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No one in Hogwarts really knows how a Pendragon befriended a Dragonlord.
It's hard being a Pendragon. Arthur is one of the few descendants of the royal ancient bloodline, like the Blacks or Malfoys, but they're not about blood-purity of whatever.
But life isn't easier anyway.
The whispers follow Arthur as soon as McGonagall calls, "Pendragon, Arthur."
"Did she say Pendragon?"
"Huh. He's... scrawnier than I expected."
"Isn't his dad the traitor?"
Someone answers, "yeah! The - uh, Uther guy? The Squib?"
His skin crawls as he walks up the stage, the other first-years giving him a path through like, well, magic around him. His fists tighten around his billowing black robes that're too big for him, even though they were the smallest size on sale.
He stares at the shiny marble floor as McGonagall places the Sorting Hat over his head.
The black fabric engulfs his vision, and the comments of the kids below are drowned out by another voice.
"Well, well, well. Arthur Pendragon."
Arthur inhales slowly. He's read about this in his mother's journals. The Sorting Hat talks, and it's meant to pick a House for you to stay in. But it also has to read his mind a bit.
A bit is a lot for him.
He really doesn't want anyone seeing inside his head.
But he has to do this. He has to get in Gryffindor. He's a Pendragon, after all.
Yep. That's me, he thinks, trying to make his inner voice sound bold.
"Gryffindor's the House you want to get in, isn't it? I wouldn't expect anything different. It's practically tradition for your family, after all. Just like Slytherin for all the Blacks."
He resists a shudder. His mother did not include how creepy the Hat is.
"I take offence to that," the Hat snipes, reading his thoughts. "But what's this? Are you willing to be Gryffindor for the sake of your father, or for yourself?"
"Is there really a difference?" he mutters. He knows full well, with dread spreading in his stomach, that the Hat can see his memories. He just wants to get this over and done with.
"A large difference. Every House is for the individual, not for the destiny someone else has forced them to accept. It is your courage and nobility that will face judgement and trial where I sort you. Not your father's."
But he hasn't been very courageous and noble lately. Not when Morgana is still with him. "My... father said any House but Hufflepuff is...acceptable."
Hufflepuff is the opposite to Uther. While Hufflepuff is warm and accepting of everyone, Uther is cold-hearted and hateful towards magic.
And Arthur is here to learn magic. Oh, wizards. Why did he accept that letter?
"I see kindness and compassion in your heart, Arthur Pendragon. I also see determination and cleverness. Though I wouldn't put you in with Ravenclaw."
It takes about two seconds for him to realize that was an insult. Hey!
The Hat ruffles its brim as if laughing, ticking his forehead. "Despite what Uther desires, you are your own person. And I know you can achieve that by yourself."
Wait. Does that mean...?
"GRYFFINDOR!"
He doesn't hear the eruption of cheers from the Gryffindor table. There's a buzzing in his ears that's so great he would've collapsed from the wave of relief that crashes over him if he wasn't still seated.
"Thank you," he whispers just as McGonagall whisks the Hat off his head. Her eyes twinkle at him pridefully.
He's glad to sit down at the Gryffindor table, but most of it is relief.
He's at Hogwarts. And he'll be there for at least a few months. His father isn't here.
The Sorting still continues, and a girl gets sorted into Hufflepuff before the next name is called out.
"Emrys, Merlin!"
The buzzing returns like a tsunami, but not from relief. The hairs all over Arthur's body, the back of his neck and down his arms prickle with something primal.
Something about that name sets his teeth on edge, sets all his nerves alight.
He's never seen the dark-haired boy with the ridiculously large ears before until he walks up the stage to be Sorted. But he has heard of that name before.
Merlin Emrys is the son of a Dragonlord.
That's shocking enough on its own.
Dragonlords, if being extremely rare isn't enough, are the sworn enemies of the Pendragons. No one has seen the last Dragonlord in years, but there are rumors of a surviving son.
Arthur's tense as a wire as he watches Merlin's Sorting. His nails dig into his palms under the table as he mentally pleads, Please don't put him in Gryffindor. Please put him somewhere else, literally anywhere else.
Merlin taps his feet repeatedly on the floor. It's probably a tactic to get the Hat to get a move on, and it works.
"SLYTHERIN!"
The Dragonlord boy just won't stop following Arthur.
"Why do you hate me so much?" he pesters, somehow managing to keep up with Arthur through the crowds in the corridors. "I mean, I know you're a Pendragon - Arthur Pendragon - and that I'm a Dragonlord, but that doesn't mean we can't be friends. Hey -" He shoves his way past Arthur and stands in front of him, blocking his path to escape. "Do you even know why our families hate each other so much?"
That's... actually not a bad question, since, no, he doesn't know. But why would he tell Merlin that?
He pushes past Merlin. "I don't care. Now stop delaying me to my next class, Emrys."
"Our next class," he corrects, waving his timetable in Arthur's face. It's highlighted in an explosion of neon colours and little doodles of dragons. "Defense Against the Dark Arts! It's sort of my favorite, you see. It's pretty dangerous being a Dragonlord, especially since it's not exactly a secret. Although, I guess being a Pendragon isn't really simple either -"
"Emrys?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you please." He glares. "Shut. Up."
Merlin opens and closes his mouth, thinking better of what he was about to say. His silence is a blessing and Arthur quickly slips inside the classroom and chooses the seat at the very back.
To no surprise, Merlin sits there too.
"So, why do you hate me?" Merlin whispers ten minutes into the lesson when they're supposed to be taking notes on disarming spells, and Arthur wants to snap his quill in half.
"I don't hate you."
Merlin starts to smile.
"I really hate you."
Merlin frowns.
Arthur sighs. "You keep following me around, and we're not supposed to be friends."
"Why not? Because of the old rivalry -?"
"No. Not really." That's not his own reason, anyway. "I'm not supposed to talk to you."
If Merlin knows what's good for him, he'll shut up and go back to taking notes. Arthur isn't meant to talk to him, and his goal to go through school without talking to anyone would be so much easier if everyone else would just leave him alone.
Merlin scratches his forehead with the end of his quill. "Uh... What?"
He's been talking too much. He ducks his head and keeps writing notes. A part of him feels bad for snapping, but... a Pendragon doesn't apologize. A Pendragon is strongest alone.
Merlin doesn't know the true reason he's pushing him away. He doesn't know what Uther might do if Arthur 'integrates' with other people of magic. And Arthur really does not want to find out what his father will say if he befriends Merlin of all people.
"We can't be friends," he mumbles, and the rest of the lesson concludes without either of them talking.
Arthur's job is simple. Study, keep his head down, and somehow figure out a plan to survive the summer holidays, but Merlin isn't making it easy.
Honestly, he doesn't want to be mean. But being cold and unwelcoming works on the rest of his classmates, but something must be wrong with Merlin's survival instincts. It's like he's trying to get Arthur riled up.
Out of all their classmates, Arthur is the one Merlin picks as his partner in crime.
"You want me to what?" he says, because Merlin cannot be asking this of him. Especially not when it's almost curfew.
He glances side to side, but no teacher shows out of the shadows behind the flickering candles. All the people in the portraits are asleep, or he hopes they are asleep.
Merlin cradles the bundle of blankets to his chest as if holding a newborn child. "I just need you to distract anyone who tries to stop me saving Aithusa."
"Aithusa?"
Merlin shuffles his feet, then he hesitantly peels back the blanket to reveal the shiny surface of a silvery shell. "She's still unhatched, but if any teachers find out they'll confiscate her. And then she'll be sold to whatever evil organization trafficks innocent magical creatures."
The last part comes out like he says it all in one breath, ending with a sharp gasp for air.
Arthur just stares. He points to the bundle in Merlin's arms. "That's... a dragon egg."
"Yeah. Weren't you listening?"
"And you want me to smuggle it out."
Merlin shrugs. "Well, technically, I'm smuggling her out. But - here's the thing -" He lowers his voice to a whisper. "You've got a clean record. Plus, you're a quiet kid. If you get caught, just say nothing."
This is breaking the rules. Breaking the curfew is bad enough, but helping Merlin sneak out an illegal dragon egg? That's against the law.
If Uther hears about this...
Arthur's starting to feel tenser. The longer he stays out, the more likely it is to get in trouble. "I - I'm not sure. If we get caught..."
"Arthur, please," Merlin begs - actually begs. Arthur never thought he'd see the day when the cocky, animated Slytherin begged. "This isn't for me, it's for Aithusa. And my father. He..." Sadness glazes over his eyes. "He always said that it's a Dragonlord's duty to protect the dragons, even if we risk our lives for them."
"Said?" Past tense.
Arthur's no Ravenclaw, but he isn't stupid. Merlin isn't just doing this because he's a Dragonlord. "He's not...?"
Merlin looks down at the egg, clearly avoiding his gaze. "He, uh, died when I was little."
Arthur doesn't know what to say.
"It's okay, though!" Merlin's quick to reassure, a cracked smile on his face. "It happened a long time ago."
Arthur studies him. He certainly doesn't sound like it's okay. It suddenly hits him that Merlin's probably the only person his age he's ever had a conversation with, and the only person to relate to on any level; grief is a topic he's familiar with. He sighs. "When do we start?"
Merlin's eyes light up with a spark of mischief. "Just follow my lead. I've got the perfect plan."
"My mother died when I was born," Arthur says while they're walking without looking at him.
Merlin's perfect plan proves to be imperfect.
Arthur wants to hit him over the head with one of McGonagall's ginger biscuits, but that would be hard with said teacher sitting in front of them. He settles on glaring instead.
"Illegal possession of a dragon egg? In the hands of two first-years, too." She looks like she's going to start breathing fire.
"The two of you out of bed after curfew?" Her nostrils flare furiously. "I already gave you two warnings, Emrys. As for you, Pendragon, I expected better."
Arthur stiffens. He molds his face into an expression of stone, shielding the churning anticipation inside. He's been caught before, but this...
Yeah. This is pretty bad.
McGonagall exhales and pinches the bridge of her nose, where her spectacles should be. She looks strangely younger without them. "Usually, breaking the curfew will be punished by a few House points taken away, except as the law is involved in this case..."
She folds her hands together on the desk. Merlin and Arthur glance at each other nervously. "Twenty points will be taken from both your Houses. You will both be given detention for a week -"
"A week?" Merlin gasps.
"Cleaning the dungeons."
Well, that doesn't sound so bad -
"For Professor Snape."
Merlin curses, and McGonagall threatens to take away another five points if she hears him say it again.
"And I shall be writing to your parents about this."
Arthur's head snaps up, but she gives him her signature look that says everything is done and said, and she shoos them out of her office and sends them back to their dormitories.
If it wasn't already still and quiet, the empty corridors are downright eerie now. Arthur and Merlin's footsteps are the only sounds that echo faintly.
On a day when Lupin's sick - again, Snape takes the lesson. Very conveniently on the day after Arthur and Merlin's first detention with him where Merlin had tried to use magic to clean the dungeons and had let his cockiness get to his head.
Snape had not been amused. Neither had Arthur.
It must be his personal revenge that Merlin and Arthur are forced to be the first to fight the Boggart.
Arthur's Boggart transforms into Uther.
Even though he was expecting that, he doesn't move. His mind goes blank. He thought he was free from his father, at least until the break.
Whispers break out again behind him. The professor looks lightly stunned, but like everyone else, Arthur has the task of facing the Boggart.
Uther wears his Muggle clothes, even though Squibs sometimes do wear cloaks and robes. His hands are bare of anything that would be perceived as a weapon but clenched like large white rocks.
Arthur knows the look of fury before Uther even opens his mouth.
Arthur has heard it all before. He's used to it. He just didn't think he'd have to hear it all again in Hogwarts, where he was meant to be free.
Hogwarts, however, is not meant to hear what Uther... yells.
Arthur doesn't watch as the class stares, or as Uther's abuse echoes around the classroom. All of their classmates are either covering their ears or are listening in stunned muteness.
Eventually he raises his wand and casts Riddikulus!
Uther's voice cuts off like he chokes on his own tongue, and then he collapses to the ground and doesn't move.
The professor inhales in shock... And Uther snores.
The class bursts into an almost shaky laughter, but Arthur turns away.
Merlin looks like a ghost in their next detention together. All grey and still.
Snape hasn't arrived yet, so they have no way inside the locked dungeons. Well, actually they can just alohomora it open, but both of them silently agreed to simply wait it out. Let Snape take the blame.
They're just sitting down against the stone wall. Arthur sits in a cross-legged position, his hands clasped around his wand which he continuously mutters Lumos to conjure up the bare minimum of a light source.
Merlin, on the other hand, seems perfectly content to either sit in the dark, or let Arthur do all the work.
Almost hesitantly, he reaches out a hand to Arthur's shoulder, but he turns away - a little too quickly than intended. The dungeons feel extra constricting in the darkness, and it's as if Uther's voice still echoes around the place.
"Arthur -?"
"It's nothing," he snaps.
Because it's really nothing. His father isn't breaking things. He isn't hitting or touching Arthur or Morgana in any way. And he has a reason for... being that way.
It doesn't matter that Arthur stays at school during Christmas because he doesn't go home to a warm, smiling family. And every time Uther's attention is on him, he can't act out in any way, or else he'll be on Uther's bad side, and the only way to escape that is to do exactly what he wants.
"Really?" Merlin's still talking. "Because it sounded like your father just blamed you for your mother dying."
Arthur freezes so abruptly he drops his wand, letting it clatter to the floor, plunging the dungeons into complete darkness. His hands are suddenly clenching.
Merlin stops too, and he inhales sharply in realization at what he just said. "I'm sorry -"
Arthur stands up quickly, already breathing in fragmented breaths. He keeps his eyes trained forwards even as they brim with tears and he can't see anything. At least Merlin can't see him either.
"Uh, I really can't see a thing right now, so - give me a sec..." Merlin fumbles around before whispering, "Lumos."
Arthur turns away as a faint glow illuminates the dungeons from Merlin's wand so Merlin can't see his face. He paces the dungeons rapidly, hands itching to tear his hair out or punch something. Gods, Merlin knows about that part of his life. Why did he tell him his mother died?
For a moment during Merlin's great dragon scheme he'd thought, Wow, breaking the rules is kind of fun. And Merlin's probably the first closest thing he's had to a friend.
But then they'd gotten caught, and Snape was their detention supervisor, of all teachers. The guy must have an aura of bad luck around him, because things just had to get worse whenever he's around.
"Hey." Merlin steps up to him and Arthur whips around. The Slytherin seems... sad? Concerned? It's an unfamiliar expression that somehow gets under Arthur's skin. "Hey - you okay? I didn't mean to -"
"Why do you keep talking to me?" he bursts out so fiercely Merlin takes a step back. "We're not friends, I'm not even supposed -" He cuts himself off. "What part of that do you just not understand?"
Merlin looks down. His wand flickers a little, making the shadows dance around the dungeons eerily. "I..." He sighs. "I'm sorry. I just... thought it'd be nice to finally have someone that would - I could relate to, I guess."
Arthur stares at him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
It probably comes out a little too rash, as Merlin grimaces and rocks back on his heels, hesitating. "Uh... It's just...It's not easy being a Dragonlord, you know? I kind of figured you're in the same boat, being a Pendragon. I mean..." He scratches his neck. "Isn't your family one of the ancient royals? Something about being the bloodline of nobility and courage?"
This is very weird. "Did you...read up on my family history?"
Merlin flushes. "I, erm..."
"Maybe you should've been in Ravenclaw."
"Really?"
A smirk comes upon him almost against his will. "No."
"Prat."
To his surprise, a laugh squeezes out of his throat. He doesn't laugh very often. It feels strange, like... freedom. He holds out a hand. "Wand."
Merlin hands it over and he casts Lumos. He leans back against the dungeons. "Don't believe everything you read in books," he mutters. "My ancestors may have been the rulers of Camelot, but it doesn't mean they're all so great today."
"Your...father?"
Arthur grimaces, and his hand tightens around his wand. Well, no point covering it up now that literally their whole class knows, and probably the whole school too, with how fast rumors spread. But this is a chance that he gets to say his side, since he hasn't spoken to anyone else in the school except for Merlin, even though he can count the number of interactions they've had on one hand, which isn't a lot.
"Yeah. He's a Squib. That much is true."
"He's really..."
"Blames me for my mother passing away?" He rubs his arms, even though it's not cold enough to feel chilly. "It's been a habit of his since I was old enough to talk back. It's his favorite tactic when I think I can rebel in any way."
Your mother died to bring you to this world. And this is how you ruin her sacrifice? By disrespecting your father?
Merlin winces through his teeth. "Sheesh."
"Oh, and he also had an affair. And threatened to pull me out of school if I talk to you."
Merlin looks like he's eaten too much at the Feast and wants to throw up. "That is... so wrong."
"Tell me about it."
"He really threatened you?"
Arthur traces circles into the air with his wand, letting the glowing tip run in shapes that smear across the darkness when he moves it fast enough. He bows his head. "He hates magic. Since my mum died, I guess. He blames it on magic." It's lucky he didn't become a Obscurus. "He still believes in the old legends, about how our families are enemies."
"Maybe that's all they're all. Just legends."
"Maybe." Arthur hums. "Your turn. Tell me about your family."
"Oh, um..." Merlin fiddles with his wand, almost dropping it when he tries to spin it. "Well, you already know my dad passed. My mother's my only family left."
He taps his chin with his wand. "There's Gaius, though. He's my neighbour. I've known him since I was little and he's kind of like my fairy godfather. My mother's a Muggle, and he taught me magic."
"I thought we weren't supposed to learn magic before school."
Merlin's eyes glint in the wandlight. "We're not if they find out. Plus, being a Dragonlord comes in handy. Apparently, I've got too much power to make my Trace silent. It's practically been going off in the Ministry ever since I was born."
Arthur stares at him a little. Merlin's really that powerful? He wouldn't have been able to tell. All he sees is a lanky kid with ridiculously large ears.
"People are afraid of me," Merlin admits. His voice goes quiet. "I don't really think anyone here wants to be buddies with me for the sake of friendship. It's just Malfoy who's trying to suck up to me. Well, it was. Until I hexed his robes."
"I don't even want to know."
Merlin chuckles. "Good choice."
Snape still doesn't show up. They've been waiting for the better part of an hour, and both are fed up. Not that they're complaining about not having to clean up the dungeons.
"Alright, that's it." Merlin stands, stretching. Sitting against a cold stone wall is not the comfiest of places. "If Snape slipped on a banana peel and died, that's on him. I'm going to bed."
"Seconded," Arthur agrees, heading off in the opposite direction. Just because they're friends now does not mean he's getting caught walking with Merlin like they're actually friends. "Good night."
"Night."