The Legacy of Salazar

Nightmares and Brothers

Merlin stared at the ceiling, listening to the gentle snores coming from the bed next to him. He couldn't sleep. He kept running over the conversation he'd had earlier with Snape, doubting his responses. The Professor had always been sharp, realizing when Merlin was truthful and when he wasn't. He had started to consider Snape a confidant; even if it were always painfully obvious that he would never be like Gaius. But hearing the Professor say it like a fact—he'd felt touched.

And then he'd felt guilty.

He tried to be honest with Snape as much as he could. Merlin had told him about the troll first. He'd trusted him, sent for his help when Quirrell went after the stone. But although Snape knew about his accomplishments he was also right—Merlin refused to give details. He'd told Draco and Hermione because they had already seen him like that, as something powerful and dangerous and they hadn't been scared of him. Now, Merlin didn't think he'd scare the professor—he doubted anything could really scare that man—but he was worried what Snape would think of him.

And he didn't want them to hear his use of druidic spells. He suspected that someone would recognize them, or at least attempt to research them and then he'd be questioned about where he'd learned them. That wasn't something Merlin wanted to deal with. And what if people started to worry that he was another Dark Lord, just waiting for a chance to take over? Voldemort had made everyone paranoid, and his being in Slytherin certainly wouldn't help matters. At least the Professor had understood that.

Also, he was Draco's Godfather? Somehow the Malfoy had forgotten to mention that. Merlin supposed he ought to have realized—Snape had appeared to be on good terms with Lucius when they'd met in Madam Malkin's. The Malfoy family wouldn't have gone to lunch with just anybody. Or perhaps Draco had mentioned it before and Merlin had just forgotten—it was known to happen. Merlin shook his head, his brow furrowing.

He wished he could be more honest with Snape. But so much of what he said would just be taken as nothing more than a child's word—Snape had said last year to leave adult matters to adults, and Merlin didn't think he'd change his mind now. Not when it was clear Snape actually cared about him to some extent. Merlin teased him, but he knew the Professor worried about his wellbeing. He wouldn't take it well if Merlin actively went against Voldemort again, or at least, he wouldn't expect him to.

Brilliant.

Snape had also wanted to see Merlin defeat Quirrell himself. He'd seen the disappointment in the Professor's eyes. He sighed and rolled over in bed, pulling the covers over his head. He wasn't sure how that made him feel. Gaius had never really asked for the particulars. He'd just wanted to know that everything had gone okay, and was ready to caution him about what some of his actions could entail. And Arthur—well, that was part of the reason Merlin had grown accustomed to never accepting credit.

Yes, everyone knew he'd defeated Quirrell. They even knew some of the details, as a gaping hole in the corridor was hard to miss. Only Draco and Hermione knew the blow-by-blow account, although that was sure to change at the hearing tomorrow. Anxiety touched Merlin's mind, whispering that even though they wouldn't see the memory he was still likely to cause concern among the wizarding world.

Not as much, he argued back.

He heard Silas shift in his sleep and the snores stopped. Merlin shook himself again. He needed to get to sleep. He had court in the morning. He yawned and closed his eyes, summoning images of Ealdor to lull him to sleep. He'd just started to float into unconsciousness when Silas tossed again, the action loud and feverish. Merlin's eyes opened. Silas made a choking sound and Merlin sat up, looking up over the edge of the bed.

"Silas?" he whispered, but his foster brother didn't hear him. The bedside table rattled, and Merlin stared at it. Silas had mentioned of his going to Hogwarts but Merlin hadn't considered it as anything more than hopeful thinking. Silas made another strained noise and the table shook again, causing the glass of water resting on top to spill a little.

"Silas," Merlin repeated, moving to sit on his foster brother's bed.

Silas fought with his covers before shouting, "Byron!" and jerking upright just as the glass of water on the bedside table shattered. He didn't say anything for a moment, his breathing heavy. Merlin noted with the tremor wracking his frame and put his hand on his shoulder but when Silas flinched he quickly pulled his hand back.

"Are you okay?" Merlin asked slowly. "Were—were you dreaming about your brother?" Silas had never mentioned his name before but Merlin couldn't think of anyone else that could cause Silas to be so distraught.

"What?" Silas looked blankly at him for a moment, wiping sweat from his forehead. He turned to look at his bedside table and gasped, pointing at the broken pieces of glass. "Merlin—look!" he said, the panic from before disappearing. "I did the same thing you did!"

"Congratulations, it's caused by nightmares."

"Yeah—" Silas shook his head and met his eyes. "But this is proof I have magic, right?"

Merlin raised his eyebrow. "You say that like you have other evidence." Silas bit his lip and Merlin started. "You do?"

Silas fidgeted. "I didn't want to tell you in case it didn't turn out to be true! Snape said he would check if I was on the Hogwarts roster for me, but I think he's been too busy with the Quirrell case..." he trailed off, shrugging.

"Oh." Merlin found himself smiling. "Well, I think you might just be a wizard."

Silas looked thrilled. He laughed and wrapped Merlin in a tight hug. He could actually feel his magic now that Merlin focused, he had never noticed it before but it was there. It was still slightly agitated by whatever Silas had been dreaming about, though as it calmed it became harder for Merlin to sense.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Merlin asked when Silas didn't break the hug after a moment.

"What?" Silas pulled back and looked at him. "About the other times? Well—"

"Not that—the dream. You said Byron before you woke up."

Silas went very still.

"Is that your brother?" Merlin watched him closely. He knew very little about Silas' older brother, other than he was presumed dead. He'd disappeared one day and Silas had been forced to live in the streets for a while before going to Wool's Orphanage. He could understand why Silas didn't like to talk about him—he himself avoided the topic of his family.

It was painful, to think about them.

Slowly, Silas nodded and he lay back down in bed. "Just, the last time I saw him," he mumbled. He shook his head. "Anyway, can we tell Florean? I want to tell him that I have magic!" He sat up again, his smile wide. "I'll be able to go to Hogwarts with you next year!"