The Legacy of Salazar

Pepper-Up

October hit the castle in the form of a torrential downpour and frozen corridors. Even with all the torches lit and fires burning in every room, the castle felt thick with cold, as if the stone walls had developed the ability to leach warmth from the air. The cold was especially apparent down in the dungeons, where the damp caused ice to glaze the walls and their breath to form clouds of mist.

Even with a constant fire roaring in the Slytherin common room, several older students had created portable heaters and had situated them about the room. Merlin had one such heater at his table—it looked like a large stone jar, filled with blue flames that crackled every once and a while. He almost wished that an ember would fly out and burn his astronomy homework.

Or maybe he'd just chuck it in the fire and blame it on the heater anyway.

Merlin heard the telltale sound of rock scraping against rock, and turned to see Draco trudging into the common room with his broom slung over his shoulder. He looked miserable. He caught sight of Merlin and wandered over, throwing himself into the chair opposite him and leaning forward to absorb some of the warmth from the heater.

"It took ages to wash the mud out from my hair," he grumbled, and he ran his hand through his hair as though making sure he hadn't missed a spot. "And my uniform was entirely soaked through. The weather better improve before the game or I'm likely to get frostbite."

"Practice went well, then?" Merlin asked, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. They had been aching most of the day. His headache—a near-constant thing now—had settled somewhere at the back of his head, sending jabs of pain into his eyes every so often. It made concentrating on his homework nearly impossible.

Draco frowned. "Why don't they ask Flitwick to charm the stadium to repel water or something?"

"You could try asking him to charm your uniforms," Merlin said with a shrug.

Draco paused. "I could." He seemed to consider it for a moment and then sighed. "So, how are you doing?"

He saw Draco's eyes flicker down to his astronomy chart, and Merlin resisted the urge to cover it with his fingers. He did not doubt that the little he had managed to complete was wrong, and at this point, it might be better to give up entirely. Merlin yawned, throwing back his arms in a stretch.

"Terrible. I think I'll head in early."

Draco stared at him. "It's not even curfew yet!"

Merlin shrugged and stood up. Instantly, his head throbbed and his vision dissolved into blackness before receding a second later, leaving him exhausted and dizzy. Merlin's hand went to his temple, in an attempt to steady himself, his other hand resting on the table.

"Are you all right?" Draco asked. He'd gotten to his feet too.

Merlin did his best to wave him off. His eyes shifted toward a fourth-year girl seated by the main fire, wrapped in her winter cloak, holding a cup of tea, and steaming slightly from the ears. Theodore had sported a similar look just a few days ago.

"I think I caught that flu that's going around," Merlin said after a moment. Or at least, he hoped he had.

"Maybe you should go to see Snape."

Merlin blinked. "Why?"

Draco gave him a look. "To get a potion?" he said, and he shook his head. "He'll cause less fuss than Madam Pomfrey and he's closer."

Merlin had to admit, he had a point. While he didn't exactly want to smoke from the ears, he had been feeling more sluggish than usual these past few days. He'd barely done any of his homework—though not for lack of trying. Merlin hesitated only a second longer before nodding and heading out of the Slytherin common room.

He shivered in the corridor, folding his arms against his chest. No wonder everyone was getting sick—the castle was an icebox. Jolting himself to get moving again, Merlin set off down the corridor towards Snape's office, wishing that he'd thought to grab his cloak.

As usual, he didn't bother with the niceties of knocking, and instead pushed his way into Snape's office. The man in question was sitting behind his desk, a roaring fire behind him and a grade book open before him. He didn't look up when Merlin entered, though Merlin though he saw his lip twitch.

"Ah, here to turn in your homework at last?" Snape asked. He flipped the page and dipped his quill into the inkbottle. "You're two days overdue."

Merlin cringed. He'd completely forgotten about Snape's assignment. "Right...what was that homework again?"

Snape slammed his quill onto his desk. "Well, if you couldn't be bothered to pay attention in class," he spat "I hardly see why—" he trailed off when he looked up and saw Merlin standing before him. He paused then, "But perhaps this is a conversation for another time."

He must look worse than he'd thought. "I think I caught that flu that's going around."

His stomach clenched at the words—a voice in his head whispering that he'd been having these headaches for weeks now. He forced the thought away. There was no way he was still suffering the effects of the dementors. He wasn't that fragile! It was just a combination of stress and now this flu—that was all.

Snape surveyed him for another moment before nodding and getting to his feet. "I always expect cases this time of year," he said as he walked around his desk, "and stock up accordingly."

He pulled out a small vial from his cloak pocket. The contents were deep red and seemed to froth slightly. He held it out to Merlin saying, "Pepper-Up Potion will make you steam from the ears, but it'll stop the flu in its tracks."

Merlin appraised the vial for a second before downing the contents. When he'd finished, he found that Snape was holding out a second vial for him. Merlin raised his eyebrow.

"I seem to recall that you require more than one dose."

Merlin blinked. "Right." How had he forgotten that? He took the second potion, and after a moment felt a swell of heat rise to his face, steam gushing from his ears. It tickled slightly, and his entire head felt suddenly heavy with warmth.

"Thank you, sir," he said, and he started back toward the door.

"Don't think this means you're off the hook," Snape called after him. "I expect that essay on my desk before the end of the week."

"Right," Merlin said, waving vaguely back at him before stumbling into the corridor and shutting the door. It was only when he'd reached the common room that he realized that he still didn't have a clue what assignment Snape was talking about. He'd have to ask Draco or Hermione about it tomorrow. He certainly wasn't doing anything else tonight.

Blaise had taken Merlin's spot at the table, and both he and Draco waved to him as he headed toward the boy's dormitory. He waved back, tripping over his feet as he did so.

He heard Draco call, "You okay?" from across the room, though he seemed to be trying hard not to laugh.

"Oh yeah," Merlin said, giving a thumbs-up without looking at them, and headed up the stairs to his dormitory.

As it was still early, the place was deserted. Good. Merlin collapsed on his four-poster without bothering to change and fell asleep in seconds.

He was standing on the chessboard, a plume of white dust rising into the air before him. But there, within the particles falling back to the cracked marble surface, he saw him. Merlin could see his red eyes, illuminated in the gloom. They shone so brilliantly, the dust swirling around him turned blood red—until the entire room seemed to bleed.

Then a shadow fell over Merlin, and he looked up to see the knight chess-piece raising his broadsword. He brought it down, swinging hard at his head, heard the resounding crack of metal on bone—

Merlin woke with a start and winced as his head was jostled. He lay there, still as he could until the rise and fall of his chest evened. His face still felt hot, though the steam from his ears seemed to have dissipated. But when he looked past it, past his throbbing head, he felt the familiar tingle of magic at his fingertips.

Samhain had come once again.