Step 7: Gain trustworthy confidants who can aid and abet your magical activities. Absolutely no evil sorcerers should be included on that list.

Keeping your magic secret is a difficult task. In order to aid in the process, you might be tempted to confide in a person or two. Sometimes this can be very helpful, particularly with steps three and four.

You must choose this person very carefully. Open-minded family members are usually a good choice. Perhaps a kind friend, or an anti-Uther one at least. However, under no circumstances, even if you've been turned into a frog or created a beast or accidentally turned yourself inside out, should you ever confide in an evil sorcerer.

Perhaps you are thinking this is foolish, as any sorcerer looks appealing when your insides are suddenly your outsides. However, I can assure you, you'd be much better living out the rest of your life as a strange creature than trusting an evil sorcerer with your secret.

Trust me.

I once confided in an evil sorcerer. At the time, I thought I'd made a new best friend. However, years later, I found out that if one of my true friends and confidants had not stepped in, well, let's just say I'd be in worse shape than I was in the first place.

Merlin climbed down from his horse, nursing his sore backside and trying not to wobble on his very chaffed legs. He moved carefully to help Arthur untack his horse, purposefully not making eye contact with the prince for fear he would assign Merlin more chores.

It was a cold, rainy night. The journey that started as a hunting trip had disintegrated in the face of bandit attacks, evil creatures, and an unexpected border skirmish that, in Merlin's humble opinion, was far less interesting than the bandit attack. As King Arthur and his knights (and of course his trusty, unappreciated manservant) finally turned toward home, the weather had pivoted from stiflingly hot to unexpectedly cool for the weeks leading up to the Autumn equinox (or Alban Elfed as the druids called it, a time that Merlin would very much prefer not to be wandering about the woods with the King of Camelot). Their journey was so painstakingly slow that even Arthur's stoutest of knights had sworn off hunting forever. Of course Merlin knew this promise would never last, but a young warlock could hope.

"If I have to spend one more night in the mud with wet socks, I'm going to give up this knight-business entirely and run a tavern. A roaring fire, strong mead and warm bread, and company that's a sight more lovely than you ugly blokes" Gwain grumbled, wringing out his sock in front of the fire pit.

"Who are you calling ugly? We've at least remembered to bath on this lovely adventure" Elyan called, grinning at Merlin.

"I've been having a bath for the last three days" Gwaine muttered under his breath as he helped Merlin find some decently dry firewood.

"It's only two days more you girl" snapped Arthur, who huddled by his horse, blowing on his ungloved hands. "Honestly, at this rate, you're worse of a sport than Merlin, who can't even start a bloody fire".

"Thanks a lot, sire" Merlin called, hands freezing as he tried in vain to light the fire. "You know, if you want to get a fire faster, some dry wood might help. Unless you don't want to step out from behind the cover of your horse, your Kingliness".

With much grumbling and name-calling, Merlin drove the whole company far enough away from the fire that he could utter a quick drying spell, then made a great show of striking the flint while he magically started the fire. Every once in a while, Merlin thought as he exclaimed dramatically as if a spark had finally caught, being magical was a great thing.

He was in unusually good spirits for the rest of the night, as Leon finally caught some game near their camp. Merlin whipped up some savory stew with herbs he found in the forest (maybe Gaius was actually teaching him a thing or two) and enjoyed a night under a rocky overhang with cheer and good company. As he finally settled down (near the edge of the overhang of course, because he was only a lowly servant after all), Merlin thought perhaps this trip wasn't so bad after all.

Merlin woke up to a particularly close clap of thunder, the wind driving the rain straight into their sanctuary. No one else seemed to be awake. Merlin, half-asleep and very cranky to have had his rest disturbed, quickly threw up a spell that encouraged the wind away from their camp. Shaking his bedroll out and grumbling, he dried it with a thought and prepared to go back to sleep. His unobtrusive spell would last through the night, and as Merlin should be one of the first awake in the morning, it would likely go unnoticed by his companions. If he'd been a bit more awake, Merlin might have noted that using magic in a dark forest in front of his anti-magic companions might have been a bad idea, but glazed with sleep and a full stomach as he was, Merlin attempted one other bit of daring magic. He turned to himself, attempting to merely increase his body temperature by a few degrees to stave off the cold and damp.

Merlin yipped in alarm, covering his mouth and glancing furtively around. Thankfully, none of his companions had been awoken by his exclamation. He looked down in alarm at his torso, which was quickly growing longer and stiffer. With not a moment to lose, Merlin ran out into the downpour. He had to get as far away from camp as possible. He needed to fix whatever his deceivingly innocent spell had done.

Sweat dripped from his brow as he grew hotter and hotter, the rain steaming when it touched his skin. Soon he had to lean on the trees for support, but they would no longer take his weight. The world grew uncomfortably sharp until he could see the veins of a leaf from fifty meters away. His shoulders itched and his arms seemed unusually unwieldy.

Finally, Merlin determined he'd ran far enough and curled into a ball on the muddy ground, shielding his head from the suddenly overwhelming world with his arms. After what seemed an eternity, the pain ebbed away enough for him to sit up. Except that was unusually difficult to do without his arms on the ground. Spying a nearby lake, Merlin hobbled toward it, hoping to get some clarity. His eyes widened when he saw his reflection stare back at him.

"Well. I suppose this makes sense" Merlin ground out, eyes blinking and brain activity momentarily suspended.

"I'm Emerys, the mighty warlock of legend. I've fought monsters and sorcerers and the prat's dirty laundry, I can certainly figure out how I turned myself into a bloody dragon!" Merlin grumbled, then winced as his voice carried much further than he'd intended.

"Oi there mate, no need to wake the whole bloody forest" an offended voice appeared from what seemed to be Merlin's tail. Merlin turned around to face the intruder, trampling three trees and nearly decapitating the man in the process.

"Who are you?" Merlin demanded, his voice sounding much more intimidating as a dragon. Upside of accidentally turning into a dragon: his royal pratishness wouldn't dare tell him to muck the stables. Downside: he'd try to kill him on sight. Merlin was weighing the pros and cons of death vs. mucking the stables when the man cleared his throat, "Oh mighty warlock, it seems you have a predicament. Might I offer my humble services to your greatness?"

Merlin narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the man. His voice sounded familiar and his words were far too sweet for someone who'd just happened upon a warlock/dragon in the middle of the woods on a stormy night. Logically, Merlin wondered what the man was even doing out so late in the rain and cold. However, some foreign part of him preened at the praise, reveling in his own magnificence.

Merlin settled for a disgruntled "Hmph" as a reply, lowering his head to get a closer look at the man. "I recognize you. You stole something from Camelot, and escaped from the dungeons on the eve of your death".

The man bowed dramatically, "I'm glad to hear my reputation precedes me! My given name is Alvarr, your humble servant my lord".

Merlin's heart sank. Of all the sorcerers to run into in his time of need, the man who sparked Morgana's rebellion was unlucky. Then again, Lady Luck did enjoy tormenting Merlin, so he wasn't even surprised at this point.

Perhaps sensing his suspicion, Alvarr hurriedly continued, "Though my reputation may be a bit out of date, of course. I was foolish in my youth, conducting my rebellion as a mere bandit. However twisted I believe Camelot is, I should not have targeted innocent souls. My few years of isolation have become a vessel for self reflection. However, the hour is late and your need seems dire, my liege. Please, allow your humble servant to assist in your recovery. I'm sure your wayward magic, oh don't look like that good sir, it happens to the best of us! I'm sure it will be able to be reversed in a jiffy, so long as I know the intent of the spellwork at hand. Pray tell, why did you cast such magic?"

Merlin the dragon almost felt embarrassed to divulge that he wasn't attempting anything grand, just a small bit of magic to keep away the cold. Merlin the human just wanted to be human again, so he told man everything (except the bit about the King of Camelot and his dashing knights sleeping soundly in the forest nearby, he wasn't a fool thank you very much). Alvarr just tutted, a strange sound coming out of a young, roguish man. Merlin almost expected him to take off his cloak and reveal a grandmother or perhaps Gauis hiding under Alvarr's facade. However, no such thing occurred and the sorcerer quickly found the solution to the problem.

"Ah yes, are you ready to be human again?" Alvarr asked, the circle drawn and words ready to be recited.

Merlin hesitated, and for the first time doubted trusting such a man to reverse his magic. He would be revealed once he returned to himself, a man that Alvarr would surely recognize and not be particularly pleased to see. However, there was no one else around. The very few people who knew that Merlin was more than meets the eye were either dead or too far away to be of any use at all. Merlin hesitantly nodded. He needed Alvarr. He'd just have to trust him. There was no other choice.

Alvarr started chanting, the words sparking an incurable itch in Merlin's belly. Slowly, he felt himself returning to his traditional state. At one point, Merlin could have sworn he heard Alvarr add a clever bit of magic to the ceremony, but he was so focused on retrieving the pair of pants set out for him that he didn't think anything of it. Finally, he crouched on the forest floor as the fantastic and handsome human Merlin. He quickly dressed himself, noting that he'd have to search on his way back for his wayward neckerchief. When he looked up, pant secured around his waist, Alvarr was staring at him almost greedily. The look passed so quickly, however, that Merlin determined he'd imagined it. He did have an overactive imagination after all, or at least that's what Gaius muttered at him whenever he created a helpful experiment (or ghastly abomination of science and magic as Gauis called them).

"Hurah, sire, you've been returned to your natural state. I must say, you're much younger than I imagined. Yet you look familiar. Might we have met before?" Alvarr tilted his head questionly while erasing any sign that magic had been done in that place.

"Er, no, I don't think so" Merlin stuttered, "Though I travel quite a lot, so it's possible we've crossed paths before".

Alvarr nodded slowly, seeming to accept this answer, before gesturing toward the path of cracked trees and smoldering grass. "Would you allow me to escort you back to your campsite?"

Merlin knew it was a bad idea, but he was beginning to rather like this reformed Alvarr. He reminded him of a well-mannered Gwaine. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt, if it's no trouble to you".

Alvarr chuckled good naturedly and wasted no time providing Merlin an apple as they walked through Merlin's inadvertent destruction. They chatted for a long while, particularly of the difficulties of growing up with magic and the most hilarious situations their magic had gotten them into. Merlin couldn't help it; he was growing quite fond of the man.

When they got close to where Merlin remembered making camp, he turned toward the nearby stream and shook hands with Alvarr. "It was nice to meet you, Alvarr. Thank you for your help. I hope we meet again, under better circumstances perhaps".

"Oh, I'm sure we will" Alvarr chuckled, shaking Merlin's hand in a rather delighted manner, "For we are bound in ways neither of us know".

Merlin blinked, surprised at these strange words, but Alvarr didn't seem to take them seriously so Merlin didn't either. He went off in the opposite direction once Alvarr had cleared the hill, taking a complicated trail back to the knights' camp. Settling into his damp bedroll once more, Merlin determined he would never thoughtlessly perform magic again, though part of him was pleased to have a new, albeit unusual, friend.

In the woods, about a mile away, Alvarr grinned to himself, stopping once again at the stream, though quite a ways north of where he'd left the warlock. Emyrs. Merlin. Oh yes, he remembered the strange, meddling manservant of Prince Arthur. Snooping, sniveling creature, calling the guards on Alvarr and making a nuisance of himself. Somehow surviving the ambush he'd set for the prince and his mighty men. Oh how he loathed them, the crimson-caped buffoons. They were so much less than him, yet thought they were so much greater. Alvarr would teach them the errors of their ways, oh yes. Of that he was certain.

Particularly since his scrying, which revealed a place and a time to be this night, brought him to the legendary Emrys. The boy's power must be great, if he was able to unintentionally transfigure himself into a great dragon. Alvarr hastily spun a story of self reflection and redemption when the warlock looked affronted at his colorful reputation; the thought of playacting that horrible, weak character nauseated Alvarr but he made himself, for this was an opportunity he would never gain again. For when he released Merlin from his unintentional spell, he slipped one in of his own, one that would allow him to wield the power and body of this great wizard. And, to Alvarr's delight and surprise, he was Merlin, the delightfully naive and trusting servant boy. The gods were looking out for him tonight, because this man, this boy he held sway over was in the position to murder the King in his sleep and bring Camelot crashing to the ground.

Alvarr pulled out his mirror, watching Merlin lie down next to the cursed spawn of the devil Uther. The river bubbled almost angrily, but he drew its water nonetheless, preparing the incantation that would make him master of this frail boy who held so much power. He opened his mouth to speak, only to choke as if an unseen hand was wrapped around his throat. His eyes bulged as a ghostly woman rose out of the river, bubbles swarming angrily around her.

"You are foolish, mortal, to attempt to control and deceive one as powerful as Emyrs." The woman's voice was not her own, but a chorus of many. "Do you not think Emrys has friends in these woods, who care and look out for him? This river, whose water you poison with your foul magics, comes from the Lady of the Lake. And she does not suffer enemies of Merlin".

A year later, Merlin still had no idea what became of Alvarr. He never saw nor heard from him again. Funny. Usually when Merlin showed his magic to unexpected friends, they tried to kill him.