The Legacy of Salazar

The Empty Desk

The desk behind Ginny Weasley sat conspicuously empty. She turned around to look at it, remembered Colin Creevey sitting there, shifting and breathless like an overexcited puppy. She had been a little annoyed with him recently. He had taken to snapping photographs of everything, and his boisterous chatter had irked her but—she returned her attention to Professor McGonagall's lecture—the silence of his desk distressed her more.

McGonagall had waited for them in the common room Sunday morning to tell them the news. Somber and thin-lipped, she had explained a new curfew, urged them not to travel alone, and to report suspicious activity directly to her. But when someone shouted Merlin's name, she had shaken her head.

"Merlin Evans has been interrogated by the Headmaster and he believes Mr Evans was in no way responsible for these attacks."

But McGonagall had looked skeptical. It was clear to Ginny and the other Gryffindors that she wasn't convinced. As soon as she'd left, the common room had exploded into furious whispers and speculations on how Merlin had avoided punishment a second time... and what they were going to do about it.

Ginny swallowed thickly. She had given up taking notes by now.

Had Fred and George been wrong? Had she misjudged Merlin? Was he capable of something like this? The Gryffindors had been on the warpath Sunday, probably why Merlin had made himself scarce. But she couldn't help thinking about what would happen when they found him. And even with most of the school yelling for his head, Fred, George, and Hermione had all steadfastly refused to stand down.

She almost admired them. Well, she admired Hermione.

"Have you forgotten about last year? How he stood up to Quirrell and stopped He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Hermione had cried in the common room. "You don't know how he's stood up for me and other muggleborns, how he's tried to change the prejudices of his fellow Slytherins!"

"He's dangerous, Hermione!"

"It might've all been an act to throw us off."

"He's a Parselmouth!"

Ron especially had tried to convince her to stay away from him. "You could be next!" he had roared in her face. "Don't you care about that?"

"I think I'm safer with Merlin than with any of you!"

"Well when you get petrified, I'll be sure to tell you I told you so!" Ron had shouted at her retreating back.

Ginny thought of the time Draco and Merlin had escorted Hermione up to Gryffindor Tower and chewed on the inside of her cheek. If they were the ones doing this, wouldn't they have attacked Hermione first? And how could he have found out Colin was muggleborn? She didn't think Merlin had ever even talked to Colin. Well, he had been taking photos of Merlin during the Quidditch match—a fact some Gryffindors used to rationalize their argument—but it still didn't sit well with her.

None of it did.

Class ended without her noticing and with a start, she began to pack up her things. "He'll be all right you know," came a dreamy voice from next to her. Luna was slowly putting her things away, cocking her head slightly in Ginny's direction.

She must've noticed her periodic glances at Colin's desk.

"I'm not worried about that."

"You're worried about something, though."

For someone who's head was always in the clouds she was shockingly observant. "I'm thinking about Merlin," said Ginny as she slung her bag over her shoulder.

"So is everyone else."

"What do you think?" Ginny asked, waiting for Luna to finish packing up so they could walk out of class together.

Luna hummed. "He doesn't look well these days, does he?"

Ginny shook her head. More often than not, Merlin looked distracted, his fingers massaging his temple or strained with bruises beneath his eyes.

"But, you would think someone stressed by false accusations and personal attacks would look worse for wear," Luna went on.

It took a moment for Ginny to understand what she was saying. "So, you don't think he's the one who did it?"

"Oh, I think the Herbalist Association for the Use and Protection of Rare and Dangerous Plants are responsible—if they prove the necessity of Mandrake cultivation the Ministry will overturn their strict regulations. Do you know how lucky Hogwarts is to grow mandrakes this year? Professor Spout had to pull some serious strings. They require a very high magical content in the soil—it would kill the surrounding non-magical foliage. They also tend to kill any muggles who mistake them for wild potatoes with their screaming."

Ginny stared at her. "You think... a group of herbologists are petrifying kids because they want to grow Mandrakes?"

"It makes sense, doesn't it," and Luna gave a wistful carefree smile. "I'll see you next week," and she skipped away down the hall.

Ginny shook her head. She didn't understand that girl at all. That had to be the most outlandish theory she'd ever heard—and yet— she gave a small smile and made her way down the corridor to Charms.

She had just turned around the corner when two huge figures covered in thick brown fur leaped out from behind a pillar, hissing and spitting. Ginny gave an almighty scream, jumping a foot in the air, and one of the things fell over laughing—fur rolling on the ground.

She knew that laugh. "FRED?" She shrieked. "George? What the bloody hell are you playing at?"

"We know how distraught you were about Mrs Norris," said Fred, wiping tears from his eyes now.

"Thought we'd take your mind off things."

"THAT'S NOT HOW YOU DO IT!" Ginny screeched. But they only laughed harder, and she stalked away, the back of her neck scarlet. Let's see how hard they're laughing when I perfect my first hex, she thought darkly.

Besides—she took a seat in Charms class and as she began to pull out her things her fingers brushed against the diary—she didn't need their help. She had Tom to talk to now.