Harry Potter and the Return of Merlin: Chapter 5 (6/?)
Title: Harry Potter and the Return of Merlin
Fandom: Merlin/Harry Potter Crossover
Rating: T for slight violence and language
Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione...or at least the precursors to the relationships
Spoilers: HP - definitely through the end of OotP, since Merlin is supposed to know more than most, there may be other spoilers as well. Merlin - through the end of season 3 because I haven’t had a chance to watch season 4, so I can’t spoil it, lol.
Warnings: AU. Slight Violence and language.
Beta: the wonderful animeloveramy. I don’t know what I’d do without her.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Merlin. They belong to J.K. Rowling and BBC respectively. They have simply been kind enough to allow dreamers like me to indulge in fantasies involving their characters. Some of the text is directly from, very close to, or inspired by what J.K. Rowling originally wrote. This is simply because this fic closely follows OotP and I see no reason to pretend that I’m better than J.K. Rowling and try to rewrite it. I will try to leave an AN at the bottom when I use large amounts of the text.
Summary: When Voldemort used a spell of the old religion to regain his body, he gives Merlin the reason he needed to step out of the shadows. Disguised as a fifth year student, he goes to Hogwarts to watch over Harry and do what he can in the war to come.
Previous: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4
Author’s Note: Because it’s really long, I’m putting it at the bottom. I just want to be sure that everyone goes to look, lol.
Chapter 5
It had been hundreds of years since Merlin had seen someone have such a horrible day. History of Magic hadn’t been so bad since Harry spent most the class playing hang-man with Ron and ignoring the dirty looks Hermione was throwing at him for not paying attention.
Things had gone downhill from there.
Merlin had taken the break between History and Potions to examine the wards a bit more closely and had told the trio that he’d find his way down to the dungeons on his own. By the time he heard the warning bell ring, Merlin had a better idea of what he needed to do to strengthen the wards. He shifted the strap of his bag on his shoulder and hurried into the castle, Kilgharrah soaring after him. They garnered many looks and quite a few shrieks of horror from some of the younger students, but Merlin ignored them.
He made it down to the dungeons with plenty of time to spare and found that most of the students were standing outside the classroom. Ron and Hermione were arguing while Harry looked deep in thought. He glanced up when he saw Merlin.
“Did you find your way without any trouble?” he asked.
Merlin nodded. “It’s not exactly difficult. What’s on your mind?”
“It’s nothing,” Harry muttered, barely audible over the sound of the classroom door creaking open. Merlin filed in behind him and ended up taking a seat at an empty table near the front of the room, seeing as everyone else had already partnered up.
Snape swept into the room, shutting the door behind him.
“Settle down,” he said coldly, and unnecessarily. Everyone had already fallen silent and still. Merlin arched an eyebrow. He hadn’t spent much time around Professor Snape, not even at Grimmuald Place, but he certainly didn’t seem like a pleasant fellow.
Merlin’s frown deepened as Snape set about intimidating his class in regards to the upcoming standardized tests at the end of the year. It seemed to working particularly well on Neville, who gulped nervously several times.
Eventually, Snape put instructions on the board for the Draught of Peace, which Merlin knew to often be on the OWLs. It was also extremely simple for someone like him to brew, but extremely difficult for the average fifteen year old wizard. Setting that potion as the assignment for the first lesson, with no instruction on the actual brewing, was ridiculous. Still frowning, Merlin got to work, ignoring the curious gaze that Snape kept sending him.
Snape didn’t even speak until class had almost ended and he spent the entire period at the front of the room, offering absolutely no help. Merlin spent the last thirty minutes of class flipping though his textbook, allowing the potion to set. Glancing around, he saw that Hermione was the only Gryffindor, other than himself, to have brewed the potion correctly.
The professor swept past Merlin without even a second look at his perfectly brewed potion. As he bottled up a sample for grading, the warlock could hear Snape berating Harry for missing an ingredient and Malfoy snickering. Forcing himself not to interfere in the middle of class, Merlin walked up to the front of the classroom and set his potion on the desk next to several others. Being a biased git was necessary for Snape to keep his cover as a loyal Death Eater intact, but it was still difficult for Merlin to watch. He turned just in time to see Snape vanish Harry’s potion.
“Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion making, to be handed in on Thursday. And Mr. Lyonnesse, stay behind,” said Snape.
Kilgharrah leapt up from his place beneath the table and curled himself around Merlin’s shoulders like a shawl of some kind. They waited for the rest of the class to leave before walking up to Snape’s desk.
“Is something the matter, sir?” he asked politely.
“How is it, that you managed to brew that potion in under an hour?” Snape hissed. “I have never seen even a master complete it so quickly and so perfectly and yet you claim to have incomplete schooling.”
Merlin could have kicked himself.
Just tell him, Kilgarrah grumbled. It seems you have little other choice after that display.
“I’m waiting,” growled Snape. “We do not tolerate cheating at this institution.”
“Is it cheating to have witnessed the invention of the potion and to have brewed it thousands of times over hundreds of years?” Merlin asked contemplatively.
Kilgharrah snorted. Not the best route to take, young warlock.
Seeing the way Snape’s face paled, Merlin had to agree. Before the man could take points from Gryffindor, Merlin said quickly, “I’m not being smart. It’s the truth.” He drew his wand and twirled it in his hand until it enlarged into a staff. He struck it on the ground and light flashed through the dungeon.
“Do stop showing off and just tell the man who you are!” Kilgharrah grumbled.
“Right,” Merlin scoffed. “Because just coming out and saying that I’m a warlock who’s supposed to be have been dead for over a thousand years without somehow backing up that claim is so much better.” He turned to Snape. “You’ll have to excuse Kilgarrah. Being small has shortened his temper, though he had little patience to begin with. What I tell you cannot leave this room. Only the headmaster knows the truth. This is not something you can use to gain Voldemort’s trust.”
Snape’s eyes widened infinitesimally. “What? How--”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on the wizarding world for many years. You’ll find that very little escapes my notice. I am fully aware of the game you play for our side.”
“Dumbledore would never have told you that,” Snape hissed, drawing his wand. “Who are you?”
Knowing that simply saying, “I’m Merlin,” wouldn’t convince the understandably cautious man in front him, he opened his mind and looked Snape directly in the eye. The man jumped at the chance, just as Merlin knew he would. He pushed his memories forward, allowing Snape to see everything he needed to be convinced.
Snape stumbled backward, panting slightly. His calm, cold mask was gone and his eyes were wide with undisguised astonishment.
“How is this even possible?”
Merlin shrugged. “I’m not even sure of that. All I know, is that it is possible.”
“At least that explains how you managed to brew the potion so quickly,” Snape said dryly.
“I didn’t stop to think that a normal student would need more time to hesitate when adding the ingredients,” admitted Merlin. “I’ll try to be more careful in the future. The headmaster is the only person, besides yourself now, who knows who I really am. It needs to stay that way until the right time.”
Snape nodded his understanding curtly. Satisfied, Merlin reduced his staff to a wand once more, took the note Snape handed him excusing him for being late, and made to leave the room. He paused at the door.
“I understand that you are in a delicate situation,” he said over his shoulder. “Tricking the Dark Lord into believing that you are loyal is not easy. You have a part to play. Be sure that it does not go too far or those on your own side will doubt you and that may have unimaginable consequences.”
Snape raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He appeared to be thinking over what Merlin had said.
“If you ever need anything, do not hesitate to ask,” Merlin added. “I want Voldemort gone as much as everyone else.”
He didn’t wait to hear Snape’s answer. Merlin hoped that his point got across and that Snape realized what his actions in class, and outside of it, could do.
Merlin raced upstairs to the North Tower as quickly as possible. He doubted that Trelawney would actually take points, but he did think that she would single him out and make a fool out of him with some idiotic predictions. Having been the subject of several very real ones, he really wasn’t looking forward to that.
“Stand and fight!” Arthur shouted as Merlin sprinted past. The warlock didn’t even stop to laugh or to let Kilgharrah get a good look at the king. Though, he did hear Kilgharrah chuckle in his ear.
He slid to a halt in front of the rope ladder that led to the Divination classroom and clambered up it. Kilgharrah soared up in front of him. He heard a shriek from the room.
“Sorry, I’m late,” panted Merlin. He tried not to look alarmed by the fact that the teacher greatly resembled an overgrown insect with glasses that magnified her eyes and beads that glittered everywhere. “Professor Snape held me back.”
Merlin hurried forward and handed her the pass that Snape had written.
“What is that creature?” Trelawney demanded, pointing at Kilgharrah who had curled up on Harry and Ron’s table. “It holds a dark portent.”
“That’s just Kilgharrah,” said Merlin. “He’s my familiar.”
Trelawney looked at him critically.
“You have a very strong aura. I sense that you possess the Seeing Eye. If you would take a seat,” she said mistily. “We are interpreting dreams.”
It was all Merlin could do not to snort and roll his eyes at her proclamation that he possessed the seeing eye. He’d never been much of a seer. Sure, he could use divining methods to gain hints at what might come, but Morgana had always been the real seer, not him. And really, who could possibly mistake a dragon as a dark portent?
*** (1)
“A bloody dream diary?” Ron fumed as they made their way to Defense. “As if we don’t have enough homework, we have to start keeping a bloody dream diary.”
“At least we can just make things up,” pointed out Harry.
Merlin arched an eyebrow at the blatant cheating and Harry shrugged. “It’s the only way to please her. The more misery there is, the more she likes it.”
Though still slightly disapproving, Merlin didn’t comment. He completely understood.
The three of them filed into the Defense classroom. Umbridge was sitting at her desk, dressed in a revolting pink cardigan with a little bow perched at what was supposed to be a jaunty angle in her hair. Merlin thought it made her look like an overgrown toddler.
Unsure of how the new teacher would react, the class kept silent. Hermione hurried in a few seconds after he, Harry, and Ron did and the four of them made for seats in the middle of the classroom. There were only three seats available next to each other Merlin opted to sit one row in front of them, and nearest the windows.
Once the class had settled down, Umbridge smiled and simpered, “Well, good afternoon, class.”
There were a few mumbled responses.
“Now, that won’t do,” she said disapprovingly. “You are to reply, ‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.’ Let’s try that, shall we. Good afternoon, class.”
“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,” they chanted back dutifully. Merlin couldn’t help but feel like he was five years old.
“Wonderful! Now, wands away please. They won’t be necessary for this lesson.”
There was a lot of unhappy muttering as everyone did as they were told. She flicked her wand at the board at the front of the room and the words “ Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles” appeared in chalk as if written by an invisible hand.
While a quick return to the basics after four different teachers isn’t necessarily a bad idea, I doubt that’s what she actually has planned, Merlin thought tiredly.
“Your education has been woefully disrupted and fragmented,” said Umbridge sweetly. “It seems that your previous teachers did not follow ministry curriculum and you are far behind OWL level. You will be pleased to know that we will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered and Ministry approved course for the rest of the year.”
She waved her wand again and more words appeared. Merlin raised his eyebrows at the course aims.
Understanding the principle underlying defensive magic? Well that sounds all right, even if it is more suited for a first year class, but placing the use of defensive magic in context for practical use is ridiculous. The only way to learn, no matter what age, is to actually use the magic. And really, learning to recognize situations were defensive magic can legally be used is just an excuse to brainwash the students with ministry drivel.
Merlin tried desperately to keep a handle on his magic, which was responding instinctively to his annoyance. It wouldn’t do to blast a Professor, even one that was a ministry stooge, through the classroom wall.
“Do you all have a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?” Professor Umbridge asked, clasping her hands behind her like a little child reciting lines.
Once more, the class mumbled a response and she forced them to chant an answer back like toddlers before telling them to spend the rest of the class reading silently.
Merlin didn’t even bother to open his book. He’d already read it and the whole thing was pointless. It didn’t teach you anything about how to actually use magic, or anything that might be useful in keeping yourself alive. He was waiting for Umbridge to notice his “misbehavior.”
But Hermione beat him to it. No sooner had Umbridge given the order to read than Hermione thrust her hand up in the air. Umbridge ignored her and over the next five minutes, everyone ceased attempting to plow through the monotonous drivel in front of them to stare at Hermione, whom none of them had ever seen neglect to open a book that was sitting in front of her. Umbridge was forced to address her.
“Did you have a question about the chapter?” she asked, pretending that she had only just noticed Hermione.
“Not about the chapter--”
“Well, that is the assignment. If you have other queries, we can deal with them at the end of class,” said Umbridge, smiling and showing her teeth.
“I have a question about the course aims,” said Hermione.
Umbridge’s smile became fixed and her eyebrows raised.
“And your name is--”
“Hermione Granger.”
“Miss Granger, what question could you possibly have about the course aims? They are perfectly clear if you read them carefully,” said Umbridge, false sweetness dripping from her words.
“I noticed that nowhere in the course aims does it mention that we’ll be using spells in a practical setting. Isn’t the point of Defense Against the Dark Arts to learn how to defend ourselves?” asked Hermione.
Merlin had to hand it to her. She was rather brilliant.
With a soft, silvery laugh that sent shivers down the spines of every person in the classroom, Umbridge replied, “Why, I can’t imagine why you’d ever need to use defensive spells in my classroom, Miss Granger. Surely, you don’t expect to be attacked in class?”
“You mean, we’re not going to be using magic at all,” gasped Ron.
“If a student wishes to make a comment, they must raise their hand, Mr--”
“Weasley,” Ron said, thrusting his hand into the air. But she promptly turned her back on him and ignored him. Harry and Hermione had their hands in the air as well. Umbridge glanced at Harry for the briefest moment before turning to Hermione.
“Was there something else, Miss Granger?”
“While we may not be attacked in class, isn’t it true that the only way to really learn spells is to perform them? Isn’t that the point of the whole class?”
“As you are not a ministry approved education expert, I do not see how you could know whether that is ‘the point of the whole class’ or not. Wizards far more experienced than you have approved this curriculum. It is entirely risk free.”
“Not if we’re going to be attacked--” Harry objected, but Umbridge cut him off.
“Hand, Mr. Potter.”
She ignored him when he did and instead turned to Dean, who had his hand rasised.
“But Harry’s right. If we’re attacked--”
“I repeat, you are not going to be attacked in my class,” Umbridge smiled superiorly.
“No but--”
“I do not wish to criticize the way this school is run,” she said unconvincingly, “but you have exposed to some very irresponsible teachers, not to mention dangerous half breeds.”
Merlin felt his blood boil. There wasn’t anything wrong with being a werewolf and Remus Lupin was one of the most honestly decent people he’d ever met. He was saved accidentally giving himself away when Dean said hotly, “If you mean Professor Lupin, he was the best we ever had--”
“Hand, Mr. Thomas. As I was saying, you have been frightened into believing that you are going to be attacked at every turn.”
“No we haven’t,” Hermione said.
“Your hand is not up, Miss Granger. It is my understanding that my predecessor performed illegal spells on you.”
“Yeah, well he was a nutter,” grumbled Seamus. “Mind you, we still learned loads.”
“Your hand is not up,” said Umbridge, sounding like a broken record. “It is the opinion of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge is sufficient for you to pass your examination, which is the point of school. And your name is?” She turned to Parvati, who had raised her hand up rather tentatively.
“You mean we’re not going to be performing the spells until it’s time for the OWLS?”
“If you have studied that theory that will be more than enough,” Umbridge trilled.
“What good is theory in the real world?” demanded Harry.
She laughed. “This is a school, not the real world.”
“School is supposed to prepare us for the real world,” said Merlin speaking for the first time.
“Hand, Mr...”
“Lyonnesse,” Merlin said sharply, continuing quickly so that she couldn’t ignore him. “And my point still stands. The purpose of school isn’t just to prepare us for a test, it is to prepare us to survive. Just knowing the theory isn’t good enough. I can read all the theory I want on chess, but that doesn’t mean I can beat a master on my first try.”
“We are talking about spells, not chess, Mr. Lyonnesse,” said Umbridge through her teeth.
“The idea is the same. By your claim, anyone here could pick up a book on the theory of Old Magic and perform spells worthy of Merlin after simply studying theory and that is not possible. And,” he continued, never looking away from her, “while it is unlikely that we will be attacked in your classroom, it is possible that we will be attacked outside of school and it is your responsibility to ensure that we can handle ourselves.”
“Who do you think would want to attack children?” Umbridge said with the air of someone who thought it was just too absurd consider.
“Let’s think,” said Harry sarcastically. “Maybe....Lord Voldemort.”
The class went silent and Merlin cursed under his breath. He had the feeling Umbridge had been waiting for Harry to do something like that.
“Mr. Potter, I would thank you not to spread lies in my class,” Umbridge hissed. “Ten points from Gryffindor and let me make something very clear. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has not returned from the dead, as you have been told--”
“He was never dead,” said Harry heatedly. “I saw him! I fought him!”
“Detention!” Umbridge screeched triumphantly. “That is a malicious lie. The Ministry guarantees that you are not in danger from a Dark wizard. If you have any fears outside of class, do come and see me. I am here to help. If you will kindly continue reading, Basics for Beginners on page five.”
Harry stood, shaking from head to foot. “So you’re saying that Cedric just dropped dead?”
The room couldn’t get anymore silent.
“Mr. Diggory’s death was a tragic accident and nothing more,” said Umbridge with finality and unconvincing sorrow.
“It was murder,” Harry said slowly and forcefully. “He was murdered on Voldemort’s order and you know it.”
Umbridge’s flaccid face went blank. “Come here, Mr. Potter.”
He seized his bags and stomped up to her desk. She handed him a note that she had written and smiled at him. “Take this to Professor McGonagall.”
Harry nodded stiffly and all eyes followed him out of the room.
“The Dark Lord has not returned, no matter what lies Mr. Potter is spreading,” Umbridge said, her voice a fraction less breathy and girly. “You are in no danger.”
Unable to take it any longer, Merlin rose to his feet, his hands balled into his fists as he struggled to keep hold of his magic. “Whether Voldemort has risen or not, it’s rather sad that people the likes of you can’t find anything better to do than demonize a young boy who witnessed the death of a friend. But I suppose that it’s more important to make sure that the Ministry saves face rather than deal with the possibility that an old threat has returned.”
“Mr. Lyonnesse, you have been given quite the opportunity to complete your education after the woeful circumstances under which your parents raised you. Don’t waste it,” Umbridge said, her eyes flashing.
“If you think a thinly veiled threat like that is enough to frighten me, I suggest you think again,” he laughed. “And if you think that you have any real control over this school, I suggest you get your head checked.”
Ron just managed to stifle a snigger. Keeping her face carefully blank, Umbridge said, “Detention, Mr. Lyonnesse. My office at five o’clock.”
“It will be my pleasure.”
Merlin sat back down and stuffed his Defense book into his bag, pulling out his History book as he did. Maybe he could get a little work done.
“Mr. Lyonnesse,” Umbridge called. “You are not to be doing any other work in the class. If you have finished chapter one, please move on to the next chapter.”
“I’ve read the entire book, Professor. Would you like to test me?”
A sly gleam appeared in her eye and she began firing off questions on the most minute details to trip Merlin up. He answered them flawlessly. After the theory behind Old Magic, this idiocy was easy.
Merlin successfully wasted the entire class on showing Umbridge up and the best part was, she couldn’t punish him for that.
Author’s Note: I have lots of stuff to cover, so bear with me here, because it’s all rather important.
The poll in FF.net is down. It was a tie between “no, not at all” and “yes, as soon as possible.” Since I also had several votes for “yes, over christmas,” I’m taking it as a yes. Normally, I’d wait until I had a clear winner, but I’m writing several chapters ahead and I need to make a decision. I’ve actually had several well thought out reviews and messages telling me why Morgana shouldn’t come into the story and I am taking them into consideration. I really do have a very good reason for why she won’t be evil and why she’s immortal, too, but I don’t want to give it away. Because of the concerns that have been expressed, I’ve decided that she will have a small part in this fic. I am planning to write a sequel that deals with HBP and possible DH (they might get separated, don’t know yet) so if the way I portray her isn’t well received, she’ll be gone. If everyone likes it, she’ll have a larger part. Hopefully, this will make everyone happy.
Just a heads up. If I don’t explicitly say that something didn’t happen or happened differently from the book, then it happened. This fic is primarily from Merlin’s POV and though he will change things a bit by his presence, many things, particularly at the beginning are going to happen as they did in the book. I see no point in rehashing what we know happened. If I ever confuse you by doing that, let me know, and I’ll try to explain.
(1) After the page break, this chapter was heavily influenced by the Ootp. I did change some of it around to fit with what I was writing, but the situation happened very similarly to the book and I saw no point in trying to change what Rowling wrote better.
Next: Chapter 6