The Legacy of Salazar

A Dragon's Concern

Merlin's return came as something of a shock to most students. They gawked at him as he strode through the corridor, speculating in urgent whispers that nonetheless carried over to him.

"Merlin's back?"

"I thought he'd been arrested—"

Someone had turned his disappearance into a wild story of a midnight arrest—he'd dueled two Aurors at once apparently. Of course, all of Slytherin knew what had really happened thanks to Professor Snape, but they had been disinclined to share. Which was why a flurry of confusion followed Merlin his first day back. But for once, he didn't care. He didn't hunch his shoulders or cringe as he heard Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan shout after him, and even smiled at the soft-spoken Ravenclaw first-year with snowy hair when she asked what had really happened. His mind was clear. His head didn't hurt. He wasn't perpetually tired. He could think and pay attention in class with a stunning clarity he didn't even know was possible.

The first night back in the common room, Daphne Greengrass had come up to him with a warm smile. "You look well, Merlin."

"That's what happens when you finally get a curse broken," and he smiled too.

"I forgot you knew how to do that," Pansy scoffed, but her words didn't hold the same bite they normally did. She came to stand next to Daphne and tossed her short dark hair in a flippant manner. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

"Did I really look that bad?"

"Well, now it's really obvious," Blaise said with a sneer. "I'd forgotten what you looked like when you weren't imitating a corpse."

"Stop exaggerating," Draco said. "If it was that bad, someone would've done something about it before."

"Someone should've anyway," came Daphne's voice, soft and clipped.

"It's all right," Merlin said, getting to his feet. "It was partly my fault too, I mean, I ignored everyone who told me to go to the Hospital Wing," he laughed.

"Yeah, all it took was for you to sleepwalk out of the dorms," Blaise said, rolling his eyes. He sighed, and leaned back in his chair, putting his feet on the table in front of him. "Of course, the Heir went silent after you left, blast him."

Merlin snapped his fingers. "That explains why the Gryffindors look equal parts gobsmacked and furious," he said.

"As if there was anyone for him to petrify anyway," Pansy said, folding her arms. "Every muggleborn within Hogwarts went home for the holidays."

"Everyone went home," Theodore said. "It was just Higgs and me, and a handful of Ravenclaw sixth years."

But there was just no rationalizing with the Gryffindors, for the next morning it'd taken all of ten minutes before someone shouted, "Bloody Hell, what lie did you use to weasel your way out of this one, Evans?"

Merlin sighed and grabbed the pumpkin juice. The only way to clear his name would be to catch the Heir of Slytherin. He knew Snape would hate that idea—leave it for the adults, and all that. But considering that the Heir of Slytherin had a large snake at his disposal that could somehow petrify its victims, Parseltongue would be a necessity. He didn't think he could control the snake himself—he would try, of course—but it would be useful against the Heir.

After all, he'd already fought Tom Riddle once.

Unlike the rest of his classmates, he already knew who the Heir of Slytherin was. The Bloody Baron had told him how Tom Riddle had opened the chamber fifty years ago, killing one student in the process. And, if there was any reason why he'd come to this time period in the first place, he was willing to bet that it included defeating Lord Voldemort. But the Dark Lord wouldn't pull the same move twice and possess someone. Dumbledore would be keeping a careful eye on that front. So how was he, a mere vapour, controlling the snake?