The Legacy of Salazar

The Journey Back

"Still got that headache then?"

Merlin stopped pinching the bridge of his nose and looked up at Florean. Kings Cross breathed around them, trains staggering to a halt while others pushed out of the station. But busy as the station was, the storm of witches and wizards trying to board the Hogwarts Express needed to stagger their passage through the barrier between platforms nine and ten. The unofficial queue that had formed strolled down the platform, pausing to appraise the train schedule, and looped back up to where one could slide into the barrier—or run into it, as seemed to be the fashion among younger students.

When Merlin didn't reply right away, Florean reached for his forehead, as though intending to feel for a fever. The motion startled Merlin, and he jerked back—shaking his head as color touched his cheeks. Florean had been behaving increasingly paternal since the court case, and Merlin wasn't sure what to make of it.

"It's fine," he said. "Just didn't get much sleep."

Florean held his gaze, a frown still lingering about the corner of his mouth. Well, Merlin wasn't lying—he had stayed up most of the night talking with Silas. The primary school Florean had enrolled Silas in had started today as well, which although exciting meant he couldn't come to the train station to say goodbye. They'd said their farewells at the flat of course, but it still felt strange without him. And sure, Merlin felt confident he'd left Silas in far better hands than last term, but he still would've liked to spend more time with him. Summer had gone by far too fast.

"Hm—well, if it gets any worse go see Madam Pomfrey," Florean said as they circled the barrier and came to a stop right beside it. "Or Snape," he added as an afterthought.

Merlin nodded once, avoiding his eyes. He'd hoped that whatever damage the dementors had inflicted would've healed by now—instead, it felt as if a pervasive cold had settled in his bones. Every morning brought the same soft pressure wrapping around his temples and settling behind his eyes, hands that increased their vice-like grip as the day wore on. But he could handle a little discomfort. The pain was bothersome but bearable, plus he didn't want to deal with the whole dose situation a trip to the infirmary would inevitably result in.

He probably just needed a little more time to heal.

"Right." Florean cleared his throat, straightening his striped orange and cream waistcoat. "It's our turn." He gave Merlin another lingering glance before striding toward the barrier, pushing the trolley with Merlin's trunk toward it—which was feather-light but of course the muggles didn't need to know that. Merlin followed him, and together they vanished from sight, to reappear on a packed platform featuring a brilliant red steam engine.

Florean consulted his pocket-watch. "Ten minutes," he said, "plenty of time." He tapped Merlin's trunk with his wand and it rose a few inches off the ground. "There, that's easier to maneuver. Just tap it with your wand when you get to a compartment." He pushed the trolley off to the side where an array of them was stacked against the wall, waiting for the careful return to muggle London.

Merlin almost laughed. Having told Hermione, Silas, and the twins about his fake wand he'd almost forgotten he hadn't told Florean. And speaking of—he still needed to tell Draco. It just hadn't felt right, putting something like that in a letter. He glanced around now, wondering if Draco had arrived yet, but didn't notice his blond hair amongst the crowd.

"So, I guess this is goodbye."

Merlin turned back to Florean. The man seemed awkward, fidgeting with the golden buttons of his candy-colored waistcoat, coffee-brown eyes crinkled in sheepish affection.

"Thanks," Merlin said, scratching the back of his neck. "For everything," he added, and he smiled.

Florean stared back at him and then threw his arms around him in a tight hug. Merlin froze, startled. Would Florean really miss him that much? Maybe the sight of Merlin bleeding in Dumbledore's memory was still fresh in the ice cream connoisseur's mind. He was just wondering if he should pat Florean's back when he pulled away. He ruffled Merlin's hair, messing up the untidy strands even more.