"I was a fool to think I could ever stay away from you as a kid. Just a taste of temptation and you'll have its sweetness on your lips forever."
Draco Malfoy and Estelle Vaile were allowed to care about each other once. How long can you ignore the...
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❝Show those pureblood brats
what you can do❞
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Chapter 31
Druid Bootcamp: Beware Explosions
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Friday, June 24th:
I've learned three things this week: the most accurate recount of Merlin's life, the sounds of the sea are blissfully wonderful, and Gaius, as clumsy and goofy as he behaved, was a slave to his research. Mondays and Wednesdays are committed to research and translation of runes. Tuesdays and Thursdays will be magical training. Fridays will be focused on magical creatures or field trips to places like stone circles and ancient forests.
On the first night of research, I fell asleep with a stack of untranslated runes on my lap on the sofa. Turnip snored on the carpet next to me, enjoying the warmth of the fire, and the distant crashing of the waves. There were so many spells, cultural practices, folktales, and rituals carved into the stones.
Even though they were merely etchings of the runes, my fingers buzzed as they ran across the language only I could read. I felt important, like all those years being pricked and pinched led me here. They couldn't dream of translating these ruins, just me. Not Draco, Not Uncle Jasper, Not Daphne, Not Pansy, Not Theodore, Not Blaise... Only me.
The story of Merlin was not as I expected. Merlin was... young when he died. Early forties or late thirties, from what Gaius had gathered. Apparently, the idea of him being an old man was because he would use magic to appear older while dealing with other kingdoms to gain respect. Few people would listen to what a twenty-something had to say about kingdom politics and wars.
After the Catholics ambushed the last of the Druids during a holiday celebration and massacred almost everyone besides Merlin's pregnant mother and a handful of elderly high priests, Merlin had no choice but to study magic at Hogwarts. He was.... a Slytherin with dreams of uniting the muggle and magical worlds and creating a world of peaceful coexistence. Just like the druids, but on a much larger scale. The druids were wonderful people. It was a noble dream.
Long, long ago, the druids would gather and celebrate the holidays and culture that died alongside them in their genocide. They were the last inklings of the forgotten, ancient magics. Their magic was similar but different from modern wizardry. The legends claim their bloodline descends from the people of Albion, the birthplace of magic. 'Child of Albion,' was what the sorting hat called me all those years ago. It is why only druids can read ruins and perform their magic. The key to unlocking this branch of magic is only found in our bloodline. No way around it.
