The Legacy of Salazar

Memory Curse

Merlin stood on the Dueling Club platform, royal purple cloth beneath his shoes. He could feel the eyes of a hundred silent faces watching him, but he refused to shift his gaze. Standing in front of him was Gilderoy Lockhart, dressed in violently red robes, and bowing with a single extravagant sweep of his arms. Merlin saw the way Lockhart's hand tightened on his wand, a manic glint in his forget-me-not eyes, and acted. With a jerk of his wand, Lockhart flew back in a high arc, crimson billowing about him, and landed with a shattering thud on the other end of the platform. The ends of his robes drifted slowly to the ground, like party streamers. And then, the fabric shifted, oozing in a slow river of blood, until it stained Merlin's shoes.

"Murderer."

It began as a whisper, a soft chant until the crowd was yelling, screaming it into his ears.

"MURDERER!"

Merlin clamped his hands over his ears and ran, ran into the entry hall and out the front doors. He ran until he was deep within the Forbidden Forest, blackness encroaching upon his vision. And as his pace slowed, he heard a voice light with laughter that brought him to a staggering pause.

"I don't think Rowena will ever forget that one."

It was his voice.

Merlin backtracked, following the sound of muted chuckling, and broke into a clearing where two people sat around a crackling campfire. It was him. Though he was older, imposing with silent power. He could see it in the fine blue robes he wore, not at all like his days as a servant. But, he was still relatively young, his hair still dark, the hem of his robes stained with clay-like mud from the road. Opposite him was a man he recognized as Salazar Slytherin. He was leaning against a piece of deadwood, his dark robes tinted with green and gold. Like Merlin, he had dark hair but it was longer and well-kempt, even here in the middle of the woods.

Salazar laughed at the other Merlin's comment before the sound tapered off and his green eyes darkened. "Everything's changed."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean now that King Arthur has legalized magic again. I saw a child in the town we passed, openly playing with a magic ring—no doubt gotten it from his parents. He'd amassed a crowd of villagers, all admiring the image of a dog he had created with water from the well." Salazar paused and shook his head, looking troubled. "A little over a year ago they would've dragged him screaming to the pyre."

"We fought hard to get here," Merlin said, slowly.

"Indeed." And Salazar paused again before leaning forward and bringing his hands together. "But, what about the hundreds of druids and warlocks who were burned at the stake? The villagers play nice with us now, but they were once our executioners. Are we expected to just forget it ever happened?"

The scene began to swirl with blackness, but Merlin strained to hear Salazar's words.

"Where is the justice?" Salazar went on, now getting to his feet. "I know children that have watched their parents murdered before their eyes, and parents who've had to bury their children. And while they nurse their grief, the murderers walk free."

Murderers.

Murderer.

His head was splitting. The scene dissolved before his eyes and Merlin woke with a start. He was standing in the middle of the common room. He managed to grab the back of one of the black couches before his knees gave out beneath him, his breathing fast and shallow. The pain, so sharp and intense before, melted away and in its place came the fogginess of the headache potion.

He'd never sleepwalked before. Perhaps it was a side effect? He'd taken a dose last night to help him sleep.

Merlin shivered, his bare arms prickling with Goosebumps and staggered over to the fireplace. He sat down in front of it, staring at the flames as the heat danced across his skin. Maybe he should mention it to Snape in the morning—or maybe he should stop taking the potion at night. It probably wasn't meant for sustained use like this. His eyelids drooped, and before he even registered falling asleep, he felt someone shaking his shoulder.