Chapter Text
Merlin stared at the statue.
The statue stared back.
“Don’t mock me,” the warlock said with a scowl, folding his arms. “I know you remember me.”
The statue kept staring.
“Godrick would be ashamed of you,” Merlin tried again, “No respect for your elders. Now open up before I force you to, you useless block of stone.”
Nothing.
“Is… he talking to the statue?” One of the portraits whispered to another.
“Just pretend you didn’t notice,” another portrait advised. “He is obviously not right in the head, it’s impolite to point it out.”
Merlin fought the urge to bang his head against the wall. “You’ve had your fun. Now let me in.”
He considered just forcing his way through, but he didn’t want to mess with the enchantments on the gargoyle. It was Godrick who put them there, and it would have felt like a violation to override them. So he just waited, staring impatiently at the bird-like creature.
Then, finally, after what seemed like hours but probably was just a few minutes, the statue started to move. Merlin fought back a relieved sigh as he made his way into the office of his long-time friend, throwing his bag on the floor uncaringly. It had been a long time since he had last been here, and he had to admit, he missed the place greatly. It was unsurprising to see that Dumbledore didn’t change much; the large, circular room was still full of magicked objects making funny noises and emitting puffs of smoke, and a great number of snoozing portraits. And right in the middle there was the familiar claw-footed desk, and behind it, sitting on a shelf, was the sorting hat.
Merlin grinned, grabbed a lemon drop from the desk and popped it in his mouth as he made his way around the table.
“If it isn’t my favourite, stupid old hat,” he noted cheerfully “Don’t you look good for your age.”
“Merlin. Why am I not surprised to see you again?” The hat huffed, squinting at the approaching warlock. “And I’m younger than you, by great many years, actually. Three hundred? Four?”
“I think it’s only three,” Merlin smiled cheekily, then proceeded to poke the hat in the face.
It let out an undignified squeak, then tried to bite Merlin’s finger. When that didn’t work, it just frowned at the warlock. “What are you doing here? Besides interrupting my nap.”
Merlin made a face. That was the question, wasn’t it? Truth was, he had no exact idea. He had ideas, of course; he just didn’t have anything concrete. That letter from Dumbledore was out of nowhere and said nothing besides stating that they should meet as soon as possible. How did the wizard even know Merlin was back?
He hardly even entered the country when an owl appeared and dropped the letter in his lap.
“Hell if I know,” the warlock shrugged cheerfully, before a movement at the edge of his vision caught his attention. He turned, then beamed. “Fawkes! Is that you?”
The phoenix chirped happily, flying over to perch on his shoulder, snuggling up to his face.
“Aw, missed me didn’t you,” Merlin cooed, scratching the feathers on Fawkes’ head carefully. “You’ve grown quite a lot, you know. Or did you get reborn since? I never know for how long you live.”
The phoenix chirped again.
“Merlin! It’s good to see you again, old friend.”
The warlock blinked, frozen for a moment. The familiarity of the voice threw him back fifty years or so, back to the time he had last been here, in this castle, or more specifically, in this office.
It felt like only yesterday he had left, and yet he knew for the others it wasn’t so.
He turned swiftly and beamed at the newly entered headmaster. “Albus! It’s as if you haven’t aged a day!” His grin widened. “You don’t look a day over eighty, I swear.”
The headmaster huffed, his eyes twinkling as he made his way towards Merlin. “And you still look like you are twenty. I must admit, I’m quite envious.” He reached out, gently scratching Fawkes under the head. “How was the Amazon?”
“Bloody amazing. The magical community there is a blast, reminded me of the druids, actually, with the way they were so close to nature.” He smiled at the memory. “You know how you guys can learn to turn into animals? Well, they turn into plants. Plants, Albus.” He waved a hand, turning a few of his fingers into long leaves for a moment, wiggling them for show. “I learned how to turn into a Calathea.”
He grabbed another lemon drop, then with a wave of his hand and a glint of golden eyes he conjured two chairs and hopped into one of them. “Imagine my surprise when I came back to find out that you all went and started a wizarding war without me.”
Merlin caught the wince on Dumbledore’s face as the wizard lowered himself into the other chair.
“Care to explain?” The warlock asked, lifting one eyebrow.
When he had returned and started catching up, he was not impressed. He had only been gone for fifty-some years, and yet the world managed to turn itself inside out in the meantime, with a full-blown war and a great number of casualties. It was incredible how one man could create so much chaos and destruction.
Granted, Voldemort had been simply the last drop in the already contaminated water.
Albus was silent for a long moment, just staring ahead of himself in quiet contemplation before he pulled out his wand and waved it elegantly. Merlin could feel the magic shift in the air as a stone bowl with runic carvings levitated over to them. It was filled with a silvery substance, swirling and whirling inside.
“I’d rather show you,” the bearded wizard said, “I trust you remember how Pensieves work?”
“As if I could forget,” Merlin scoffed.
A few hours later, the warlock was still situated in the office, but he was much more sombre. Reading about the war was one thing, seeing memories of it was another. Sure, Merlin had seen wars before. Lived them, fought in them, died in them.
But it never got easier.
“So, I take it you don’t think he is gone?” He asked, petting Fawkes absent-mindedly.
Albus shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I can’t be sure, but…”
“It’s better safe than sorry,” Merlin agreed.
Albus nodded. “One of Flamel’s diaries have been stolen. I fear it may be connected to Riddle. As a precaution I’ve decided to move the stone here, where it will be safest.”
Merlin nodded thoughtfully, “That is probably smart. There is hardly any place more protected.”
“Especially if you are here,” Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling under his half-moon glasses, bringing some amount of joy back into the room.
With a blink and a consequent frown, Merlin tilted his head to the side. “Ah, so that’s why you asked for me.”
“Maybe.” Albus lifted his eyebrows. “Or maybe I just wanted to catch up with a friend who has been gone for far too long.”
“Sure you did,” Merlin grinned. “But I’ve got a feeling there is more to this meeting.”
“Maybe I have found myself wondering,” Albus allowed with a small smile, “Are you still fond of teaching history?”