#*tgau

Nervousness washed over Merlin like a tempest. He felt like prey, and Rowena seemed to be the predator eagle on the Ravenclaw crest. There was something about the noblewoman that unnerved Merlin and made him question every word he said. He had never before felt so frustrated with himself.

However, as he thought about all this, he realized that it forced him to improve on his weaknesses.

"I dun' - do not - know anything 'bo - about - Charms, Lady Rowena," Merlin stuttered.

"But you said that your father taught you how to levitate objects," she reminded. Her blue robes came into his peripheral vision, swishing like ocean waves.

"Yes, that he did," Merlin confirmed. "Is that a Charm?"

"Indeed. The Levitation Spell," Rowena answered as she came to a stop in front of Merlin. "Can you tell me the incantation?"

"Levioso," Merlin replied. "Emphasis on the first 'o.'"

"Levitate that goblet over there," Rowena ordered, pointing to a table behind Merlin. "Try not to spill the wine, of course."

Merlin whirled around and settled his gaze on the silver goblet. He walked up to the table it was resting on and looked at it for a moment, painting a portrait of it in his mind. He closed his eyes, imagined the cup rising into the air, thought the incantation, and, finally, tapped the goblet with his wand. When he opened his eyes, the goblet was levitating just above his head.

He turned around to face Rowena and awaited her response. She merely stared back at him with her mouth slightly agape and her eyes wide.

"Did you - did you do that non-verbally?" she asked incredulously.

Merlin nodded. "Was I not s'posed ta?" he asked nervously.

"No, no, I just..." she trailed off, her gaze moving to the goblet, which was still levitating in the air. She swished her own wand and set the goblet back on the table before turning back to Merlin. "I did not expect you to be able to perform non-verbal magic."

"I can only do it for this spell, Lady Rowena," he replied.

"That is still very advanced magic, Merlin," she said. "No matter. We will have to focus on more difficult Charms."

Merlin felt the same nervousness wash over him. More difficult? That did not sound very good to him.

No. Steel yourself. Something told Merlin that Rowena appreciated people that took on challenges, people that attempted to conquer all. Moreover, the young boy did not want to run anymore. Not like he did on the day the wandless wizard took away his parents.

"No Charm will be too difficult," Merlin declared confidently.

A surprised smile graced her features. "Go to the other end of the room, and summon the goblet from there," she ordered. "The incantation is accio, and the wine is yours if you can keep it all in the goblet by the time it reaches you."

It was late when Merlin returned to the Slytherin House dungeons. His stomach grumbled - an irritating and familiar reminder that he skipped both lunch and supper - and he swayed from side to side as he walked, possibly due to the goblet of wine he had earned himself.

When he opened the door to the room he shared with the other wizards, he was immediately enveloped in darkness. Not a moment later, though, Merlin heard a hushed, "Lumos," and got momentarily blinded by a soft light.

"Declare yourself!" one of the boys shouted.

"Merlin. And keep quiet," Merlin answered.

The wand lowered to reveal its owner - Arcturus. He had a confused frown on his face. "You disappeared after lessons," he said observantly.

The corner of Merlin's mouth twitched with a sardonic reply, but he had quickly learned that Arcturus Black was better as an acquaintance than an enemy. "Yes, I s'pose I did," Merlin replied as he strode towards his bed.

"Where did you go?" Arcturus asked.

Merlin heard the groan of another boy, along with the ruffle of sheets as he sat up. "Wha's wif the noise?" a muffled voice asked.

"Merlin has been going on solitary escapades through the castle," Arcturus explained. "I am asking about his adventures."

"I was only summoned by Lady Rowena," Merlin replied bitingly. He did not want the Black boy spreading untrue rumours.

"What she want?" the groggy voice asked. Merlin thought it may have been Diodorus.

Merlin changed into his nightgown and slipped under his sheets before coldly answering, "Nothing."

"It could not have been nothing," Arcturus whined. "Father says that Lady Rowena is a man in a woman's body, that if any witch should be burned at the stake it is her."

Merlin ground his teeth to keep himself from jumping at Arcturus's throat. "She is trying to find out who my parents were," he lied.

"Who were they?"

"I do not know yet."

"Oh, but you must - "

"Good night, Arcturus."

Merlin pulled his sheets over his head and hoped that the other boy would take that as a sign to keep his mouth shut. He was not sure why, but the smugness and overconfidence of Arcturus Black had irritated Merlin from the first time he heard him talk. Perhaps it was his wealth, or the way he paraded it, but something about the heir to the Black fortune caused a tingling sensation to run through Merlin's fingers.

The same sensation he felt when he had used a jinx on that dead rat.

Helga kept a protective arm around the young girl's shoulders as she guided her through the darkened castle. She hoped that her three colleagues would not be too irritated about being awoken in the eerie morning by her Patronus, for she desperately needed them to be in the best of sprits for the matter at hand.

She had found the girl wandering the cold Highlands alone, ropes still binding her wrists together. Helga could not fathom leaving her, even if she knew the risk of bringing a complete stranger to Hogwarts, especially when the school was still so young.

But she could not just leave her.

"Dawdling in Dreams," Helga muttered to the gargoyle leading to the Headmaster's Office. It spun to reveal the spiral staircase leading to what used to be the study of Lord Roderick Ravenclaw.

When Helga arrived, Godric, Rowena, and Salazar were already waiting. Godric had made a poor attempt at appearing well-rested, and Rowena stood next to his desk with her lips in a taut line, dark circles under her eyes. Salazar stood on the other side of his desk, a permanent scowl gracing his features.

All three gaped when they caught sight of the girl in Helga's arms.

"You must allow me to talk, and not interrupt me," Helga started.

Godric nodded and waved his hand, although he seemed none too happy about the request.

Helga took a deep breath before diving into her explanation. "This is Tolly. I found her on the outskirts of the castle grounds. She claims to have escaped a burning at the stake because her parents are a witch and wizard. Tolly, unfortunately, is a Squib."

"What?" Salazar bellowed.

"I am not finished!" Helga shouted. The mere occurrence of the kind Welsh woman shouting was enough to silence him. "We must care for her, somehow. There must be some use for her in the castle."

"Filth like her is the reason we have these obscene muggle-born wizards, Helga!" Salazar shouted. "Why would you bring her here?"

"Because she's not filth, Salazar - she's just a girl, and she'll be burned at the stake just for being in a magical family," Helga explained patiently. "Has your blackened heart finally crumbled?"

"You drive me mad, do you know that?" he seethed in reply.

"It was rather reckless to bring her here," Godric said. "You cannot be sure that she is telling the truth."

"Look at her, Godric!" Helga pleaded. "She is frightened, cold, and helpless. We must help her."

Rowena sighed and looked at the young girl. She could not be any older than sixteen, and her mousy brown hair was thin and matted. She had streaks of mud all over her face and body.

"I wish to hear from her," Rowena decided. "What do you have to say for yourself, Tolly?"

"I - I dun wish ta cause trouble, Your Ladyship," she stuttered. "I can leave, Your Ladyship."

"Do you wish to leave?" Rowena asked.

"Rowena, surely, you cannot be considering this!" Salazar exclaimed.

"You forget that this is my castle, Salazar," Rowena replied airily. "So, Tolly? Do you wish to leave?"

"Tru'fully, n - nay, Your Ladyship," Tolly muttered. "I can help, I can! I's very talent'd at sewin' and cleanin' and I can cook barley bread easy 'nough."

"I am unsure of this, Rowena," Godric commented.

"And would you rather I throw her back out into the cold?" Helga retorted.

"No," Rowena answered. "Tolly, you will stay here, at Hogwarts Castle, under a few conditions. You must help clean the castle, as well as aid the house elves in the kitchens. You will be sleeping in the kitchens - we can place a cot there for you."

"Rowena," Salzar started as he strode around the back of Godric's desk to stand next to her. "Do not do this. She does not belong. She is a Squib."

"Salazar, you would do well to remember that anyone can be a Squib," Rowena replied icily. "You could have been one, your children may be Squibs... do not tempt Fate."

"This school will go to pieces if we let all of this filthy blood taint it!" Salazar exclaimed, his gaze moving to Godric. "We need wizards and witches like ourselves."

"We are not educating her," Helga said with a roll of her eyes. "We are simply housing her. Is a good deed beyond your comprehension, Salazar?"

"Do not make me out to be the villain, Helga," Salazar seethed.

"You make yourself out to be as whatever you wish to be, Salazar."

After two weeks of practicing the Summoning Charm with Rowena, Merlin could non-verbally summon a table from the other side of the castle.

Declaring the Summoning Charm more or less mastered, Rowena moved on to teach him its counter - the Banishing Charm.

"The incantation for this Charm is depulso," Rowena explained. "Place emphasis on the 'u.' To start, try to just send it away from you. Once you have that mastered, we will work on banishing objects to specified locations."

Rowena turned to a cushion resting on the only table in the room. She swept her wand in front of it, her gaze unfaltering, and the cushion went flying out the door. After a few seconds, she summoned the cushion back into the room and turned to Merlin with a proud smile.

"Now you try," she commanded.

"Lady Rowena, may I ask how these spells will help me win a duel?" Merlin asked. "You said tha' - that Charms would be an easier way of winning duels."

"They are," Rowena replied. "These are the simplest Charms - you cannot build a house from the roof down, Merlin. And, of course, this particular set of Charms will allow you to summon a weapon or banish an enemy's weapon. Do not fret - we will learn more useful Charms, but only when the time comes."

Merlin nodded in understanding and turned towards the cushion to work on the Banishing Charm. The Charm came easily when he had its counter mastered. All that he required was to imagine the exact opposite.

Rowena observed the boy as he banished and summoned the cushion repeatedly. Each time, the cushion flew a little farther away from him. She thought there was something endearing about his determination.

No, not endearing... powerful.

Merlin's determination had a severe edge of potency. This was a bittersweet revelation for Rowena.

The bitterness was due to the fact that he was Salazar's pupil, and not hers.

"The boy is incredible. Not only for a wizard of his age - for a wizard of any age!"

Godric raised his eyebrows skeptically and turned to Salazar. "Can you confirm this?" he asked. "He is your student, after all."

"Merlin performs as expected in my lessons," Salazar answered. "He can perform each jinx just as well as the next wizard of his age. Perhaps he catches on a little faster than most, but the strength of the jinxes he performs is not of particular note."

"Perhaps jinxes are a waste of his talent," Rowena suggested bitingly. "He excels at Charms."

"Jealousy is unbecoming of you, Rowena," Salazar replied in a venomous tone.

Rowena's eyes fluttered shut and she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. When she opened her eyes, she fixed Godric with a determined stare and said, "He could be a master enchanter if I had the opportunity to teach him more, Godric. However, it is quite difficult when this can only be done in private lessons in the evenings."

"What are you suggesting, Rowena?" Godric asked.

"That Merlin is to be moved to the house of Ravenclaw," Rowena replied.

"Are you raving mad?" Salazar bellowed.

"Salazar!" Helga scolded with a mortified glare. She turned to Rowena with a huff. "Do you not remember what I told you about Merlin, Rowena?"

"Of course I do, but - "

"Then leave this matter well alone," Helga interrupted sternly.

Rowena turned to Godric with a helpless expression. "Godric, surely, you must understand."

"If I am to be honest," Godric started, "I do not believe you should be giving him special lessons at all."

"What?" Rowena exclaimed.

"I am glad you see it my way, old friend," Salazar said with a pleased smirk.

"Do not mistake me, Rowena," Godric said. "I understand that the boy is gifted in Charms, but he is Salazar's student and it is therefore up to Salazar to educate him. I do not want students believing that we practice favouritism at Hogwarts."

"It is not favouritism - "

"It is," Godric interrupted.

"Salazar will never teach him the Charms I intend to!" Rowena exclaimed.

"Oh, he will learn the Patronus Charm, eventually," Salazar commented dismissively, "but why waste time learning the Baubillious Charm when one can simply use a Blasting Curse?"

"How can we unlock the potency of our students if your 'old friend' is so stubbornly ingrained in his ways?" Rowena asked challengingly.

Salazar observed his colleague with a sense of victory. Rowena had always been excessively competitive and hubristic, and he revelled in the joy of seeing her so flustered by the mere fact that the situation did not model her desires. He had tried once, in their youth, to teach her how cunning could get her anything she wanted, but the proud Ravenclaw had dismissed his efforts.

It seemed that the past was punishing her, and Salazar could not be more pleased.

"Very well, Rowena, I will try to appease you," Godric said, pulling Salazar out of his musings, "if only so you may quiet yourself."

"How do you plan to appease me, Godric?" Rowena asked icily.

Godric smirked. "Well, if you were any other woman, I would gladly show you."

"Your chivalry is astounding," Rowena snarled sardonically.

The corners of Godric's mouth twitched, his smirk faltering for a moment, and Salazar could not help but think that his friend was ill-prepared to handle Rowena's temper. "If you so deeply desire to teach Merlin, then you must offer these lessons to every student," Godric started, "and the rest of us must do the same."

Any traces of joy on Salazar's face immediately disappeared. "I must be hearing incorrectly, Godric," he snapped.

"No, you are not," Godric said pointedly. "You will provide your lessons in Potions and that Dark Magic you insist on teaching to the rest of the students if they so wish to learn. All of us will teach our specialties to every student. Of course, our own students will be required to attend our lessons, but the rest of the day would be up to their desires."

"How do you plan to organize this, Godric?" Helga asked.

"Each of us will teach the students of our house for two hours every morning," Godric explained. "After that, we teach another house for two hours. For example, I will teach Rowena's students, Helga could teach Salazar's students, Rowena may teach my students, and Salazar may teach Helga's students. Then we repeat this twice more for the other two houses of students we have yet to teach. Simple enough?"

"This is not necessary, Godric," Salazar commented.

"I understand that you think your lessons are sufficient, but - "

"No," Salazar interrupted sharply. "I merely do not wish to teach the mudbloods. Why is it that every single time we are in this room, you all seem to be defending the scum under our boots?"

"Salazar, we have discussed this at great length," Godric said sternly. "If a man has magic, he is a wizard. That is the end of that."

"The whole point of these houses - "

"Was to appease your picky nature," Rowena interrupted coldly.

"I think I am the only one justified in calling people picky," Helga commented as she gave Rowena a pointed stare. She turned to Godric and said, "You, as well, are exceptionally idealistic in your selection."

"Idealistic? I would hardly - "

"Godric, please," Helga interrupted. "All of you make me sick to my stomach. Our goal was to educate wizards and witches, not to exclude them because of their origins and personalities. I quite like this plan, as I am quite certain that none of you would ever teach your students a damned thing about magical plants and animals."

"What would be the use?" Salazar muttered.

"Ask me that the next time you borrow dittany for your foolishly earned injuries," Helga snapped as she glared at the dark-haired man.

"Helga is right," Rowena said quietly. "We must rely on each other to make up for our shortcomings, even if we do not wish to admit that they exist."

"Very well," Godric agreed with a nod. "I will make the announcement to the students when we are breaking our fast tomorrow."

Helga smiled gratefully at Rowena. "Now then, would anyone like some honeyed wine?"

Merlin stood up without a moment's hesitation as soon as Salazar declared the lesson of the day over.

Ever since Godric's announcement that students could learn from the other professors, Merlin had been eager to explore the facets of magic left untouched by Salazar and Rowena. After lessons with Salazar, the students of Slytherin House could learn from Helga Hufflepuff. According to her quick description in the morning, she taught of the many uses and properties of magical plants, as well as the taming of magical animals.

Most of the students in Slytherin House scoffed at Helga's introduction, which Merlin found strange. Surely, they were in the school to learn. What would they learn by scoffing at new ideas?

Whatever the answer was to that question, it was beyond Merlin's understanding. He yearned to learn more, to master more magic.

As Merlin reached the ground floor of the castle, he stopped in his tracks. Students were milling about the entrance hall, creating an entangling crowd of people trying to find their way. Suddenly, a blonde boy in scarlet robes appeared in front of Merlin.

"Good morning!" he greeted cheerily. "You are Merlin, correct? The boy that can speak to snakes?"

Merlin simply nodded and returned to searching the crowd for a way out of the castle and outside. Helga's lessons were often held on the edge of the forest on the castle grounds.

"My name is Cadogan Lynch," the boy continued. "I was selected by Gryffindor, you see. That's why my robes are scarlet!"

Merlin looked back at the boy. "That's impressive," he said monotonously.

"You should meet my friends!" Cadogan exclaimed. He turned to the crowd and waved his arms frantically while shouting, "Mabon! Aldreda!"

A few seconds later, two people appeared at his side. One was a tall and lanky redhead with a very freckled face and brown eyes. The other was a short girl with short, frizzy brown hair and scars on the skin of her tanned face. Her grey eyes were almost milky in contrast to her brown skin.

"This is Mabon Weasley," Cadogan introduced. "He is a muggle-born - very hard for them out in the real world, you know?" He paused and turned to the girl. "This is Aldreda Mercer. She is a half-blood."

Merlin nodded at them kindly, but his eyes remained focused on the girl. "Yer the one that cut off the thief's arms. That true?" he asked.

Aldreda shrugged and answered, "I hacked at the bone a few times, and then gave up. So not really true."

Merlin felt a combined surge of fear and admiration. And maybe a bit of jealousy. He wished that he had had that much courage when his parents were in danger.

"I should introduce you to some of the Hufflepuff House students," Cadogan decided as he grabbed Merlin's arm and led him into the now dispersing crowd of people.

"I really mus' get to Lady Helga's lessons," Merlin said.

"Nonsense - this will only take a moment," Cadogan replied before coming to an abrupt stop in front of two boys in yellow robes. Pointing to the one with long red hair and the beginnings of a moustache, he said, "This is Hengist Abbot, and this," he moved his hand towards the other boy, shorter and with black hair, "is Aeron Longbottom."

"Nice ta meetcha, Merlin!" Aeron greeted.

"Cadogan, I've got mah lessons," Merlin grumbled as he wrestled his arm out of the boy's grip. He forced a smile at Aeron and Hengist, "'Twas nice meetin' ya, too."

Merlin turned to leave the castle, but Cadogan followed right behind him. Once he caught up with the dark-haired student of Slytherin House, he said, "We should spend time together, Merlin. I think we would be great friends."

"Do you not have other lessons to get to?" Merlin asked irritatingly.

"Just Lady Rowena's lessons," Cadogan said dismissively. "She will not mind if I am late."

He will be in for quite the surprise, Merlin thought to himself with a trace of amusement.

"So, what do you say to my proposition?" Cadogan asked as the two came to a stop at the edge of the forest. "We could be great friends, Merlin."

Merlin nodded, if only to appease the boy. "Quite the plan," he said.

"Fantastic! Have a great lesson, Merlin!"

Cadogan turned to run back towards the castles, his robes billowing behind him. The boy nearly ran straight into Lady Helga as she was heading for the forest, but the woman did not seem offended. She merely laughed jovially and waved at the boy as he continued to run past.

Merlin did not know what to think of Helga's immense kindness. It was comforting, and it was she that he had to thank for bringing him to Hogwarts, but he found it difficult to see the benefit in being so optimistic and jovial. She was a soft-spoken woman, and it was a wonder that no one had taken advantage of those two particular traits - amiability and femininity.

Then again, being a powerful witch probably helped.

Once she reached the edge of the forest, Merlin realized that there was only one other Slytherin House student attending Helga's lesson - Merwyn Yates. The boy was very unnerving for Merlin, and so he tried to avoid being around him. It seemed, however, that it could not be avoided in that instance.

There was Arcturus Black, standing at the front of the crowd with an overconfident smug. The child was irritating at best, but Salazar knew quite a lot of the Black family to be convinced that he would make a brilliant pureblood wizard. After all, their motto was toujours pur.

Then there were the Greengrass twins - Agatha and Solon. It was a wonderful rarity to see twins in his lifetime, and rarer still for them to be so starkly different as the twins before him. Agatha had olive skin and long midnight black hair, while Solon had short, white blonde hair that almost blended with his alabaster skin. They were the best dressed of the crowd, of course. Nothing but the best was to be expected from the Greengrass family.

Those of lesser note were Diodorus Nott, Annabella Burke, Merwyn Yates, and Richard Smithson. They came from known pureblood families, but they were working class families, and Salazar really only took them under his wing out of pity. Although, Salazar was mildly impressed with the cunning that fourteen year-old Richard exhibited - even if he was a bit dim for his age.

And, last but not least, there was Merlin. He was standing at the back of the group, his face void of expression. He was dressed in the same forest green robes that Salazar had provided to all eight of his new students, but he seemed uncomfortable in the garb. Salazar expected great things from him, as the only parselmouth in the group.

"There are benches and chairs scattered around," Salazar continued, gesturing around the common area of the dungeons that would house his students, "as well as tables, should you need to write anything. We will be teaching you how to read and write, of course. The fireplace is there, and please, do not bother the - "

"Is that a mermaid?"

Suddenly, all eight children rushed to one of the windows overlooking the depths of the Black Lake to try to get a look at the merperson peering into the dungeons with blatant disgust. Salazar could sympathize.

"Ahem."

The chatter stopped abruptly and all of the children turned to face Salazar, who now had a very displeased look on his face. "As I was saying, do not bother the creatures of the Black Lake."

"Why is it called the Black Lake, sir?" Arcturus asked with a smug smirk. Salazar did not doubt that the insolent child thought it was named for his family.

"Because it is believed to be bottomless," Salazar replied stoically.

Arcturus's smirk dropped. "Is - is that true?"

Salazar raised an eyebrow. "If you keep interrupting me, you will be able to find out," he answered. "Now, what was I saying? Ah, yes, do not bother the creatures of the Black Lake. The wizards' rooms are up those stairs, while the witches' rooms are up the opposite stairs. You will find two spare sets of forest green robes on your bed, supplied by the house elves, along with fresh parchment, quills, and ink. Please do not use the parchment unless you are asked to do so by a professor. Now, are there any questions?"

Annabella stuck up a shaking hand. Salazar nodded towards her. "How will we wash our robes?"

"There are baskets at the entrances of your rooms," Salazar explained. "Place your soiled clothing in there and the house elves will have them washed within the day. Anyone else?"

No more hands went up. Salazar gave them all a curt nod and exited the dungeons. The portrait did not even fully swing shut behind him when he heard the room erupt into chatter. With a roll of his eyes, Salazar strode down the halls and far away from the noise.

"Is it true?"

"Speaking to snakes - what a gift!"

"Can you show us?"

"There isn't a snake around, you insipid girl!"

"Maybe he has a pet snake!"

Merlin could felt his eyes widen as the room filled with more and more questions about his skill - or gift, as some called it. Questions that he could not really answer. Questions that he had asked himself. Each word was like a slap on his cheek or a hit on the head.

He wanted nothing more than to escape the rambunctious crowd and hide in his bed. A real bed. He still struggled to believe that. It was what Helga had promised him when she found him trying to break into the kitchens of a pub, and the soft-spoken Welsh woman did not seem like a liar to Merlin.

The boisterous chatter seemed to divert from questioning Merlin to the now bickering Greengrass twins. Merlin took the opportunity to run up to the wizards' rooms and escape the noise. He ran into the first room and shut the door behind him, leaned his back on it with a sigh of relief.

"Ah!"

Merlin shakily drew his wand and pointed at the silhouette in the room. The person slowly stepped forward, and the light revealed it to be Salazar. Merlin lowered his wand and gaped at the towering man.

From the moment Merlin had seen him, he knew that Salazar Slytherin was a powerful and ambitious man. His black hair was cut short in the Roman fashion that was often mocked, yet the nobleman wore it proudly. His beard was equally peculiar - almost like a sharpened point of obsidian. And yet, Salazar Slytherin had the most evident grace out of all of the Founders sitting at that floating table. Godric had been too boisterous for Merlin's taste, and Rowena attempted to exhibit a man's grace, which only clashed with her woman's grace in a very confusing way. Helga, meanwhile, emitted the aura of a loving mother, and that made it difficult for Merlin to look at her like some godly being.

Salazar, on the other hand, was a marble statue. Stoic and not a fibre of his being out of place. And, most certainly, not someone that would bend his knee for the comfort of others.

"I - I thought you left," Merlin stuttered out.

"I did," Salazar said in agreement. "This castle has many secrets."

Silence filled the room and made Merlin feel like his ears were ringing.

"I must discuss some matters with you, Merlin," Salazar started. "You must know that you are an extremely special boy."

"No."

Salazar raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"I'm jus' a boy, sir," Merlin replied meekly. "There isn' one special thing 'bout me."

"Well, we will have to work on that horrid accent of yours," Salazar agreed, "but you have more potential than any of the children in that crowd."

"I do?" Merlin asked cautiously.

"Yes, of course. Let me see that wand of yours," Salazar said.

Merlin handed him the wand and twirled it between his fingers. His eyes trailed across it as if he was attempting to memorize every groove. He gripped it with his left hand and wielded it, aiming at a wall. A bright light burst out of the tip and shattered a lantern. Then, Salazar swished the wand again and the lantern was repaired. With a small frown on his face, he handed the wand back to Merlin.

"Very interesting," he said. "Wood of oak, phoenix feather core. Very rare, and very powerful."

"Does it matter?" Merlin asked as he eyed the wand warily.

Salazar's stoic demeanour faltered for a split second before he coldly replied, "Of course it does. The wand makes the wizard."

Merlin looked from his wand and into Salazar's eyes. "M' father was killed by magic from a wandless wizard, though. He was more powerful, even without a wand."

Salazar was silent for a moment, his mind scrambling for a proper answer. "Wandless magic is archaic," he finally said. "While some wandless wizards are strong, they can only do so much without a wand. You are powerful without a wand, Merlin. Imagine what you can do with one."

The wizard makes the wand, not the other way around. Always remember that, son. That was the first lesson his father had given Merlin, but the young boy wasn't sure if he would win an argument with Salazar.

"What's so special 'bout me?" Merlin asked.

"As a parselmouth, you have the world at your fingertips," Salazar answered. "Once you improve that skill, sharpen it like a warrior's sword... anything will be possible for you, Merlin."

"Is tha' what I'm called?" Merlin questioned. "Parselmouth? Persons tha' can speak ta snakes?"

Salazar nodded. "I am one, as well, and it is an amazing gift. People will call it a skill, but only the best of wizards are gifted with this skill."

"So you can teach me?" Merlin asked eagerly.

"I will be teaching you a lot of things in these coming years, Merlin," Salazar confirmed. "That brings me to my most important point. In your time here at Hogwarts, people will attempt to steer you in the wrong direction. You should not let them, Merlin. You are a strong, powerful wizard, and you should not allow yourself to be brought down for the benefit of others."

"I should try ta be selfish, then?"

A faint smile graced Salazar's stony features. "No, Merlin. You must be selfish."

Merlin walked down the staircase with heavy steps and prayed to whichever deity happened to exist that they would not swing around for the third time that morning. His stomach grumbled in agreement.

He nearly let out a sigh of relief when he placed his foot on the main floor, but he was cut short by another body hurtling into his back. Merlin stumbled forward, then swiftly turned around to face his attacker. It was a tall, gangly boy with a crooked smile on his face. He was dressed in the royal blue robes of house Ravenclaw.

"Can you believe it?" the boy asked. "They's feeding us, too. I woulda taken to books long ago if I knew that! Mah name's Uric, by the way."

Merlin nodded faintly as the boy sped into the Great Hall. He followed after him, and was shocked to see four tables taking up the previously empty room. Each long table was covered in a cloth to resemble the house colours. Merlin made for the table with the forest green cloth.

He sat down next to one of the witches - Annabella, if he remembered correctly - and across from Arcturus. There was a bowl of cooked barley in front of him and... Merlin's eyes widened considerably as he took in the small burgundy slab resting on top of the gruel.

He could not remember the last time he ate meat, but he was quite sure that it was from a squirrel his father had caught, and the strip of meat in his bowl of barley looked a lot more fatty.

"Barley and pork," Arcturus said with a trace of disgust. "Is this what one must suffer through for a good education?"

Pork? Merlin continued to gape at his bowl. He had never before seen actual pork. His parents never had enough money for that, but if Arcturus was right...

Merlin did not waste another second. He grabbed his spoon and dug into his meal before it could disappear. He noticed Arcturus watching him with a grimace in the corner of his eye, but Merlin did not particularly care. They came from different worlds, and he was not about to stop eating the most amazing meal he ever had for the sake of justifying his animalistic behaviour.

As Salazar led his students out of the Great Hall to begin lessons, Merlin could not help but admire the structure of the castle. It was enormous and very sturdily built. It felt as if every stone held some magic in it, and most of the walls were covered in talking portraits. The portraits were mostly of Ravenclaws, according to the plaques, which Merlin found curious. He resolved to ask Salazar about it, if the opportunity presented itself.

The group entered a room in the dungeons of the castle. Salazar wordlessly waved to the tables and chairs around the room and the students took this as an order to take their seats while he took his place at the front of the room. Each table had a clay jar with a lid in the centre.

Salazar did not even pause before starting his lesson. "Today, we will be studying a particular jinx. Can anyone tell me what a jinx is?"

His question was followed by silence.

"Of course you cannot," Salazar continued with an unpleased edge to his voice. "It is a form of Dark Magic. Jinxes are minor Dark Magic. Hexes, which we will touch on soon, are moderate. Curses, which we will learn about a little later, are the most severe form of Dark Magic. Does that make sense?"

The students nodded collectively.

"First, the Stinging Jinx," Salazar started. "The incantation is mordeo, with an emphasis on the first 'o.' The key to jinxes is to keep your movements decisive and firm. Now - "

Salazar pulled out his wand and swished it. As soon as he did that, all of the lids on the clay pots rose to the ceiling, and the objects inside floated out. The objects were rats - very large and likely dead, but seemingly preserved - and they each came to land in front of a student.

"Practice your stinging jinx on these rat corpses," Salazar ordered. "Remember: mordeo. Decisive and firm."

Merlin looked around at the students at his table. Merwyn had a peculiarly pleased expression on his face, Annabella was turning an interesting shade of green, and Diodorus had inched away from the table. Merlin returned his gaze to his rat.

The thing was grotesque, but he had seen plenty of rats in his short life. Dealing with them was necessary when stealing from pubs was the only way he could get food.

Merlin stood up from his seat and backed away a few feet. He firmly wielded his wand toward the rat and shouted, "Mordeo!"

A white light shot from the tip of his wand and hit the rat, causing it to jump slightly, as if the magic jolted some reflex. Only a few seconds later, its skin began to bubble and swell around a red scorch mark.

"Very good, Merlin," Salazar praised from behind the boy. He looked towards the rest of the class. "What are you all waiting for? The spell will not come out of your wands without your magic."

Merlin sat back down at the table as Salazar moved away from him and milled around the room. There was a strange tingling sensation running through his fingers. He itched to pull out his wand and try again. Another rat, another spell, another target.

There was something about magic that made it simultaneously frightening and addicting for Merlin.

Once every student had successfully performed the spell, Salazar dismissed them and allowed them to go to the Great Hall for lunch. Merlin was pushing his chair in when Rowena Ravenclaw strode into the room. He hung his head and started to walk out of the room, but stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I am here for you, child," Rowena declared as she removed her hand from his shoulder. She looked up and her gaze met Salazar's. "Surely, Salazar, you do not mind if I steal Merlin away for a mere moment. Only to give him some advice on his practice."

Merlin looked back at his mentor, who was standing in the middle of the room now, cold and stony gaze fixed on Rowena. The young boy could not help but notice how Salazar did not move to greet Rowena like men were expected to greet noblewomen - a small curtsy and a kiss on the hand. He wondered if this was because of Rowena's attempt to exert leadership befitting of a man, or if it was for another reason entirely.

"No, of course not," Salazar replied cooly. His eyes moved to meet Merlin's. "Remember our discussion, Merlin."

Merlin nodded meekly. "Yes, sir."

"Come boy," Rowena said to Merlin as her hand rested on his back and guided him out of the room. After they turned a corner, she asked, ""What have you been learning under the supervision of Slytherin?"

"We did a simple jinx today, but he says we're ta learn some hexes and curses, too," Merlin answered.

"Did you enjoy the lesson?" she asked kindly. When Merlin looked up at her, though, her gaze held a mischievous glint.

"That depends," Merlin replied vaguely.

"Oh? On what?"

"On what the professors want me ta be speakin' of their classes."

Rowena laughed airily. "You are a very smart boy," she decided. "I want you to speak the truth. There is nothing that I value more than the truth."

Merlin paused, thinking of a proper answer. "Truthfully, Lady Rowena, there's not much exciting 'bout the jinx," he said. "There's no one we can be throwin' 'em at, and I wouldn' want to, really. Even if I had to, there mus' be easier ways to win a duel."

"Well, Merlin, there are easier ways," Rowena said in agreement as she stopped in front of a room. "I wish to teach you, if that is appropriate."

"As long as it wouldn' be against Professor Slytherin's wishes, then I s'pose I'll learn,"

And yet, she was anything but thankful. In fact, her compliance to his and Godric's plan came with several conditions, one of which was enlisting the aid of Helga Hufflepuff as a founder of the school.

Salazar did not doubt Helga's import as a founder of Hogwarts, as they had decided to call it. She was a natural educator, and had been teaching witches and wizards in an abandoned pub, or something of that sort, for many years. In fact, the jovial witch was the most knowledgeable in the field of education of the four of them, and the remaining founders had much to learn from her.

No, it was not Helga's import that Salazar doubted - it was her values.

The witch wanted to educate everyone. If she found a child in a muddy ditch that could make flowers appear in her palm, Helga Hufflepuff would do everything in her power to turn that filthy muggle into an all-powerful witch. It absolutely disgusted Salazar. The rare obscenities of the muggle world that possessed magic were just that - rare and obscene. In Salazar's opinion, they were not meant to be accepted by anyone - muggle or magic - but to perish until none remained. They were a dark spot of chaos on the face of an orderly world.

Of course, Godric's boot would have found his bottom if he terminated their arrangement with Rowena, and the founders had to reach a compromise, because it was not only Salazar that was picky with his students.

Rowena was, as she ever was, extremely pompous and hubristic in the matter. She felt that only the most intelligent of children deserved to be taught. After all, as Rowena had put it, what purpose was there to wasting valuable time on an idiot by birth?

Salazar had taken the opportunity to assert that pureblood wizards and witches were likely the brightest, which caused Helga's features to contort into an irritated glare.

As for Godric, he was as impetuous and hotheaded as always. He believed that only the bravest children should be taught magic. There was nothing more disappointing, as Godric had argued, than a wizard or witch that was too scared to put his or her skills to use.

So that was how the four witches and wizards had compromised to educate who they preferred, separate from the other founders. The students would be in separate houses, living in separate parts of the school, eating at separate tables. Even in classes, there would be no more than two houses present in one room.

Salazar was not pleased. There were still muggle-borns in his school.

"Salazar," Godric hissed at him. "Pay attention."

Salazar left his thoughts behind him and returned his attention to the crowd in front of him. They were huddled together like scared animals, staring up at the four adults with a mix of admiration and fear. Most were about eleven years old, while some of older ages were scattered amongst them. The four founders were sitting at a levitated table at the farthest end of the hall. Salazar spread out the rolled parchment on the wooden table and read the first name.

"Morcant Ahearn."

The boy was skinny and covered in mud. He could barely speak proper and coherent English - a common trait amongst muggle-borns that had begun to explicitly stand out to Salazar. The frail boy flinched each time one of the adults spoke.

It was no surprise to Salazar that he was picked for the house of Hufflepuff.

Going through the list was insurmountably dull. Salazar had found a few students that were pure of blood, some that were extremely ambitious to master magic, and a very cunning fourteen year-old. Yet, to his dismay, there were no parselmouths.

He should not have been too surprised at that. It was a rare gift to be a parselmouth that very few were born with. Usually, it had to be inherited. It was rarer still to find a witch or wizard that was the first parselmouth in a family.

"Aldreda Mercer."

The girl that stepped forward was small and covered in unbecoming bruises and scars. Her brown hair was violently shorn short and matted beyond belief. Despite all this, she stood the tallest out of all of the students, even those that had already been sorted. Her arms hung stiffly by her side and she looked Salazar directly into his eyes when he called her name. Salazar figured her to be only about twelve years of age.

"Tell us, girl: who are your parents?" Salazar asked.

"My mother's name was Jocosa, and she was a witch," Aldreda replied with unexpected confidence. "My father's name was Elric, and he was a muggle merchant. He kept her secret."

Salazar leaned back in his seat and whispered to Rowena, who was sitting next to him, "This disinterests me."

"Of course it does," Rowena replied with a light sigh. Then, she asked, "Where are your parents now?"

Salazar was not surprised that Rowena was interested in the girl. She spoke nearly perfect English, for a girl that originated from a clearly impoverished family.

"Dead. Killed by thieves in our home," Aldreda replied, her face stony. "They tried to kill me too, but I managed to cut off the arms of one of them with my father's knife, and ran with my mother's wand before the other could do anything."

In the corner of his eye, Salazar saw Godric sit up, his interest piqued. "What have you been doing since then?" he asked.

"Living day by day," Aldreda answered. "I have faced more than my share of thieves in that time, I'm afraid."

Godric stood up. "Then let those days end," he declared with a booming voice. Salazar rolled his eyes. His friend had such a mood for theatrics. "You are now welcome to the house of Gryffindor, Aldreda."

"Very well, next up," Salazar started as Godric sat down. "Merlin."

A small, skinny boy dressed in rags stepped forward. His hair was black as pitch, yet his skin was pale and ashen. Every part of him, from the way he stood to the way he hung his head, expressed fear and uncertainty, and yet his childish features were set in a determined frown.

"We don't seem to have your surname, boy," Salazar observed. "What is it?"

"I don't have one," the boy replied.

Salazar raised an eyebrow. "Do you not have parents, or grandparents, boy?"

"I used to," Merlin replied quietly.

Salazar grimaced. There was no way for him to confirm his blood purity now. "Well, who were your parents then, Merlin?" he asked, more so out of formality than interest.

"They was a wizard and a witch, sir," Merlin replied. "But they was killed by another wizard."

At least both parents were magic. That showed some promise to Salazar. Yet, he remained disinterested. For all he knew, they might have been muggle-borns. He could see Rowena's mind working harder than it ever did before, and he decided to stay out of her path. She was an unstoppable force when she set her sights on something.

"I suspect, then, that you grew up around magic," Rowena started. "Were you taught anything?"

"Yes, madam," Merlin replied. "My parents were teachin' me magic before they was killed. My papa always let me use his wand."

He pulled out the worn wand to show them, and held it as if he was a practiced wizard. "Very good," Rowena praised. "What are your skills, then?"

"Makin' things float, I can do that, as well as turning rocks into birds," Merlin answered. Suddenly, he grew uncomfortable before adding, "I could do somethin' that my papa and mum couldn't, too, and they thought me special 'cause of it, 'scept I'm not too good at it, madam."

"What's that, then?" Rowena asked. Her eyes gleamed with interest. Salazar had to keep himself from yawning.

"I can speak to snakes, madam."

Immediately, Salazar sat forward. He could feel Rowena's searing glare. "What do you mean, boy?" Salazar demanded.

This had certainly piqued Salazar's interest. None of the children before Merlin were parselmouths, and here stood a boy that was likely the first in his family, an even greater rarity in itself.

"When snakes hiss, it don't sound as hissin' to me, sir," Merlin answered. "And when I try talkin' to snakes, my tongue forms hisses, not words. They understand, and they like me."

"Rubbish!" a boy in the crowd shouted.

"Silence!" Salazar demanded, raising a hand. "That is very impressive, Merlin."

Suddenly, Salazar felt the nails of a hand digging into his arm. He looked to his right to see Rowena's angry complexion. "This child is mine, Salazar," she hissed.

"He's a parselmouth, Rowena," Salazar whispered back.

"You cannot even confirm his blood purity," Rowena argued. "He is an intelligent wizard, for his age, and belongs in the house of Ravenclaw."

"I can't possibly imagine a wizard of filthy blood being bestowed the gift of speaking parseltongue."

"I eagerly await the day that you are proven wrong, Salazar."

Salazar's face morphed into a glare to rival that of stubborn Rowena. "I demand that Merlin be placed in the house of Slytherin," he growled.

Rowena let go of his arm, but kept her eyes fixed on him. "In that case, I demand that you all leave my castle."

Anger bubbled in Salazar's veins, even though he knew Rowena well enough to know that she would never follow through with that threat. "You mad - "

"Salazar, Rowena, please," Helga interrupted. Salazar's angry stare turned to her.

"Don't tell me that you want the boy, too," Salazar hissed.

"Nothing of the sort, dear friend," Helga answered. "I would not get so sharp with me, if I were you, as I am supporting your cause."

"Helga, what do you mean?" Rowena asked, her gaze turning frantic as she looked at Helga.

"Rowena, the house of Slytherin has half the students of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and a third of Hufflepuff," Helga explained. "Merlin will be in this school, and you will likely get the opportunity to teach him something, but it only seems proper that we allow Salazar this boy. He cannot help that he is so prickly and unfriendly."

Rowena's glare softened and she returned her attention to Salazar. "Very well, then," she said quietly.

Salazar nodded in satisfaction, ignoring Helga's jab, and stood up. "Welcome, Merlin, to the house of Slytherin."

An ambitious smile spread across the young wizard's face. "I am honoured, sir," he replied.

Salazar took his seat, the remnants of his victory smile still gracing his sharp features. He had never before met a child that shared his skill of parseltongue, so it brought expected joy to the experienced wizard.