Chapter 5:

Breakfast was a delicious, but awkward affair.

Bacon, sausage, and ham.

What a lucky man I am.

That rhymes!

I savoured the taste of grilled meat in my mouth. It would have been the perfect moment if everybody wasn't glaring at me.

Helena was watching me from afar, her face alternating between irritation and adoration. I was probably going to have to deal with her at some point, but I just couldn't be bothered to right now.

Dumbledore, from his throne on the Professors' Table, had his eyes on me well, though his gaze seemed more curious than anything else.

Finally, the seething looks from every First Year Gryffindor on the table.

"Merlin, where were you last night?" Ron asked.

"We all woke up at some point in the night." Another boy - Seamus, I think he was called - frowned. "And all of us noticed your bed was empty."

"Merlin, we could lose points for that!" Hermione exclaimed.

I swallowed the food in my mouth. "I was sleeping."

"No you weren't," Harry said. "We all know you weren't in the dormitory. We all left together for breakfast. You weren't with us. You just walked in five minutes ago!"

"I was sleepwalking," I fibbed, taking another helping of bacon.

"Merlin, it's not entirely safe to wander about Hogwarts by yourself," Neville said timidly. "You heard what Dumbledore said yesterday night, didn't you?"

"Ah, yes. A most painful death. Where was it again? The third floor? Who's up for an expedition later?"

"You're hopeless," Ron groaned. "You're going to get all of us into trouble."

What a bunch of goody-goody-two-shoes. Where was their sense of adventure? Hogwarts was a treasure trove of mysteries and delights! It would be a shame to miss out on all that for something as trivial as sleep.

"If it makes you all feel better, I spoke to Professor Dumbledore last night. It was fun," I told them.

They blinked as one.

"And he didn't say you were in trouble?" Nevillle asked.

"I don't think so," I said.

"You know," Ron admitted, "That actually does make me feel better."

Lessons were so boringggggggggggggggggg.

With a capital B. And a capital O. and a capital R. And a capital everything.

BORING.

The subjects hadn't changed since my time, and I was surprised to see that one of the Professors hadn't either.

Professor Binns, easily the most boring person to have ever existed, was still teaching History of Magic. Except now he was a ghost, which made him even more boring, if that was even possible. Any worries that he would recognise me flew out the window when we clambered to class five minutes late and Binns was already at the board, teaching to a non-existent class. I was going to assume skiving off his lessons was going to be just as easy to do as when he was still alive.

Herbology was kind of okay, though it would be a while before we could even got to see the more interesting plants. I wonder if they had that one flower—I forgot its name—that sucked in people like a vacuum when they tried to sniff it. That was the most amazing prank on Nicholas I'd pulled yet.

If only he could get over the fact that I'd somehow "ruined his wedding".

Defense Against the Dark Arts was fairly interesting. At least the way they seemed to teach it was novel to me. Professor Quirrell was as confident as a grapefruit, but I'd long since seen through his ruse. He was a crafty one. He would keep filling our minds with stories about dark magic until we learned to recognize that particularly foul piece of energy residing in his turban. A very hands-on approach, which made me respect the man greatly.

By the time it was our first Transfiguration lesson, I was itching to spice things up.

"Sorry, Professor McGonagall." Hermione apologised as she led a gaggle of tardy Gryffindors into the room. "We were lost, and Peeves gave us the wrong directions."

McGonagall looked neither displeased nor amused. In her usual stern tone, she accepted the explanation. "Very well. I will let it slide this time, only because this is your first lesson. I do expect you all to come on time for future lessons, as well as to know not to ask Peeves for anything. You may go to your seats."

I should probably meet this Peeves ghost, I thought. He seemed like a rather likable fellow.

They shuffled into their seats, but Ron froze when he saw me already in mine. "Merlin! How long have you been here?"

Professor McGonagall answered for me. "Merlin, like any good student, came here on time. Perhaps next time you should follow him, instead of Peeves.

I gave them a big charming smile. Hermione looked annoyed. "How did you know the directions? You always arrive the earliest even though you're the last one to leave!"

I shrugged. "Peeves told me."

There twitch on McGonagall's lips when the students could only splutter out words in confusion and disbelief. Is that a smile? She rapped her knuckles on the board. "Come, we are already behind schedule. I will start now."

She got into a little lecture on Transfiguration, with a live demonstration of turning her desk into a pig and back into a desk again. Everybody was impressed and taking down notes (except me, of course) until McGonagall gave us a matchstick each.

"Take out your wands, everybody. You will now try to turn this matchstick into a needle. There are no incantations, no specific wand movements. It will take some time, so be patient." There was some excitement. This was the first time we would actually be using our wands. Professor Flitwick, our Charms Professor (who wasn't as charming as I thought he would be), had made our first few lessons purely theoretical.

And so everybody started pointing their fancy wooden sticks at their matchsticks and glaring at them, hoping something would happen.

"Merlin," McGonagall stopped in front of me. "Why aren't you trying? Where's your wand?"

"At home." Locked in a secure vault. I hadn't needed to use my wand in over a decade, and I sure wasn't going to break that streak for something as simple as basic Transfiguration.

She looked angry. "You came to Hogwarts to learn magic. Without your wand."

"Wandless magic," I said very seriously. "And besides, I can always just use my finger. Technically speaking, the structural breakdown for my finger does fit the requirements for a wand. There's organic tissue making up the exterior, and the blood and bones on the inside can fill the position of a core fairly well."

For a moment, she was speechless. I smiled at her. I was the great Merlin - I was never wrong. Wand-making was something I studied quite hard for. Normally, human flesh and bone wasn't potent enough to act as a wand, but like I said before, I was anything but normal.

By now, everybody was staring at us.

Her lips tilted downwards in a deep frown. She was going to scold me, wasn't she? I needed to distract her so I could prove my point.

I sent a silent and weak Incendio towards the table in front of me, and poor Neville screamed in fright when his matchstick suddenly caught on fire.

McGonagall turned, and immediately conjured some water to extinguish it.

"Professor McGonagall." I tried to fake as much innocence as possible. "I think I messed up my Transfiguration."

She turned, obviously ready to berate me. Then she blinked. Once, twice, her eyelids fluttered as she stared on my table.

She wasn't the only one.

"Oi, Merlin," Ron, who was sitting next to me, nudged me on the shoulder. "Is that a bloody palace?"

"Yes," I said very gravely. "I was picturing a needle, but it ended up like that instead." It was very pretty though. A large and magnificent chateau, with sprawling open fields and fountains that actually spurted out water. An animated Transfiguration, take that, McGonagall.

"That's Beauxbatons," McGonagall said in disbelief. "You've transfigured your matchstick into Beauxbatons Academy of Magic."

Beauxbatons? No wonder it looked so pretty and familiar.

"You went to Beauxbatons?" Hermione asked. "But that's in France!"

"Uh no," I lied. "Never been there in my life."

McGonagall glared at me. "Mister Pendragon. I don't appreciate tomfoolery and disruptions in my classes. I don't care how talented you are, but I do expect professionalism and seriousness at all times."

Oh no, she was one of those types. The strict teachers that didn't know fun even if it slapped them on the face. Like Rowena. Why was she in Gryffindor? She's clearly the reincarnation of Rowena Ravenclaw!

"But I don't need to bring a wand, right?" I asked. "Because going back home to get it and all will be quite troublesome."

Her glare intensified. "One day, Mister Pendragon, when you miscast and your finger explodes instead of your wand, I will be there to say 'I told you so'."

I shrugged. "Sure." Because Nicholas Flamel was always telling me the same thing whenever I annoyed him, but not once had he managed to say those four words.

"The rest of you, get back to trying. Merlin, I'll come up with more difficult exercises for your next lesson. For now, don't distract the rest."

I grinned. At least things weren't going to be boring for this class.

It was official. Hermione hated me. She absolutely loathed me to the core.

"It's not fair!" she complained—loudly—to Ron and Harry. "He's doing all this advanced magic and still acting so immature! It's like he's not even trying. I hate people like that, they make me feel stupid when I try my best."

"But Hermione, you actually managed to turn your matchstick into a needle," Harry pointed out.

"Unlike the rest of us," Ron grumbled.

"It wasn't a real needle," she continued, "there was a bit wood at the bottom. And did you even see what he was doing at the end of the class? He created a miniature ocean on his table and had a re-enactment of a World War Two naval battle!"

"He," I chimed in at that moment, "can also hear the three of you very well."

"Merlin," Hermione turned to face me, her face bordering between curiosity and irritation. "How come you know all of this stuff already? Have you been breaking the law by practicing underage magic?"

"Not to mention you're doing it wandlessly," Harry added.

"And silently," and now Ron, too.

I shrugged. "What can I say? I'm Merlin."

The three of them rolled their eyes, but couldn't press on since we'd reached our destination.

The Potions classroom, which was underground and near the basement, didn't have a very pleasant atmosphere.

"My brothers say that Snape is a git. He's a Slytherin, so he hates Gryffindors and he's always taking points away from us for the pettiest of reasons," Ron whispered.

Hermione looked aghast. "Ron! You can't say that about the Professors! Hogwarts is the premier magic school, I'm sure that all the Professors are reasonable and good."

Ron didn't look convinced.

Neither did Harry. "You know, I've caught him glaring at me several times during meals," he said. "I don't think he likes me."

We had all arrived in the classroom, but Severus Snape was no where to be seen, so Hermione whispered back furiously, "Harry, it's our first lesson. How can he not like you if he's never met you before?"

He shrugged. "Lots of people seem to have their own impression of me even if they've never met me before."

"That's the price of being famous, I guess," Ron sighed.

The doors slammed open and Severus Snape marched in, his robes billowing behind him. He started reading out names, and the students he called began to announce their attendance.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new... celebrity."

The Slytherins sniggered. The Gryffindors tried to applause, but a quick glare from Snape shut them down. I couldn't tell if I was going to like or hate Severus Snape yet.

"And yes, our other problem child. Merlin Pendragon."

"Right here, Professor." I waved to him.

His eyes flickered up. "The Headmaster speaks highly of you."

I beamed.

"Professor McGonagall, however, does not. I do not tolerate cheek and disruptions in my lessons, Merlin. You can be Cornelius Fudge but you will still have to sit down and shut up unless I give you permission to speak. Is that clear?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir." A small nod of approval.

I'd met men like Snape before. Dealing with him was easy. I just needed to turn off my brain and end all my sentences with 'sir'. But I still hadn't decided if I liked him.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry looked extremely lost. So did Ron. And pretty much the rest of the class. Only Hermione had her hand raised in the air, and she gave off a slightly satisfied smirk when she saw she was the only one who knew the answer.

"I don't know... sir."

Snape sneered, and then looked to the rest of the class, his eyes landing on Hermione briefly before he moved on. I could see her shoulder slump from the snub.

"Pendragon! How about you? Do you know the answer?"

Of course I did. I was Merlin.

"You get a potion, sir."

Somebody dared to giggle. Snape glared at them and the noise ceased immediately.

"What... kind of potion?" Snape asked, almost grounding his teeth.

"Tears of Aurora, sir."

Hermione's smirk grew bigger, and she straightened her arm into the air again. Did... I get it wrong?

Was Princess Aurora Sleeping Beauty? Or was it Ariel?

Snape blinked. Very slowly, his scowl was replaced with veiled surprise. "Pendragon. Where did you learn that name?"

"I... don't remember," I said honestly. I hadn't studied in centuries, how was I supposed to remember each and every book that I read?

"Five points to Gryffindor for Merlin's extensive reading," Snape said, almost reluctantly.

Hermione immediately stood up. "Sir! I thought it was the Draught of the Living Death!"

"Five points from Gryffindor for speaking without permission, Miss Granger," Snape immediately leaped at the opportunity. "And for your information, Miss Granger, they are the same thing. Tears of Aurora was the name the creator gave his sleeping potion. About two hundred years ago, it was renamed to Draught of the Living Death."

Hermione raised her hand again. When Snape nodded, she asked, "who... created the potion, sir?"

Snape made a soft scoff and his gaze caught mine. "Why, it was none other than the original Merlin, of course."

Oh. So that's how I knew.

"Potter!"

Harry tensed up again, not having expected to be called a second time.

"Where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

The Boy-who-lived shrugged, and Hermione took the chance to shoot her hand into the air again, this time fidgeting in her seat to attract Snape's attention.

"Merlin?" Her face fell.

"In my pocket, sir," I said, pulling out polished stone.

This time the whole class burst into laughter. Snape looked furious, but a sharp glint in his eye stopped him from exploding and he steadily walked towards me, snatching the stone from my palm.

After studying it intently, he seemed almost impressed. "Five points to Gryffindor for Merlin's preparedness." He held up the object for the rest of the class to see. "This is a bezoar. It is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, and it will save you from most poisons."

Hermione turned around to face me, her expression locked in angry disbelief. What? She expected me to walk around without carrying a universal antidote? Well next time she got poisoned, I wouldn't saving her life.

"Merlin!"

Harry let out an audible sigh of relief when he realised Snape wouldn't be calling him for a third time.

"What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Uh... was this some kind of trick question? I looked around. Even Hermione looked baffled.

"They're... the same?" I ventured. "Aren't they both aconite, sir?"

For the first time I'd seen, Snape smiled. It was very slight, almost unnoticeable, but the corners of his lips had stretched upwards when he said the next words. "Good. Perhaps this class will not be filled with dunderheads like all my previous ones. Merlin, I have high expectations of you. If only," he sighed, "if only you were a Slytherin. I'd make you a Prefect right here and now."

Really? He could do that? But Prefects, from what I'd seen, were all uppity, rule-abiding, stiff people. I didn't want that hanging over my head.

There was a growl, and I could see Hermione glowering at me.

The rest of the Gryffindors, however, looked quite pleased with me. I'd gotten us a net total of five points, after all.

"Five points from Gryffindor. Mister Potter was breathing a little bit too loudly just now."

A loud groan erupted from my half of the room and Potter looked stunned beyond words.

I made up my mind immediately.

I loved Severus Snape.

Albus Dumbledore surveyed the people around him. The Professors seemed to be in a bad mood despite it being only the start of the term. He suspected the reintroduction of the Weasley Twins after a long absence from red-haired menaces probably played a large part in that.

Though according to Minerva, a new white-haired contender was catching up in the ranks of her 'most aggravating students to teach' list.

When Snape strolled into the room with his usual flair, Albus harrumphed. "Thank you Binns, but now that Severus has arrived, you can stop telling us about the Goblin War."

Instead of stopping, the ghost of a Professor simply walked out of the office, still babbling on about events that transpired centuries ago. Soon, Dumbledore realised, the contents of Binns' never-ending lectures would be classified as ancient history and they would need a new History of Magic Professor. Idly, he wondered if letting Binns go would be the trigger to helping the ghost find peace.

"So," he said, turning his attention back to his Profeesors. "How are the children?"

He was looking at McGonagall and Severus as he said this, because those two were the most vocal about problem children. Then again, most problem children came from their respective houses.

"Awful," said Minerva.

"Passable," said Severus.

For a moment, Dumbledore could say nothing. Had they somehow pulled one over him and swapped voices? Judging by the surprised expressions they were giving each other, they hadn't.

"... can I ask why?" Dumbledore enquired.

"Merlin Pendragon," they said in unison, surprising everyone in the room once again.

"He's disruptive," Minerva said.

"He's well-read," Severus replied back. "And well-prepared, he keeps a bezoar in his pocket."

She glared at Severus. "He's not. He's left his wand at home."

At this, even Severus seemed momentarily stunned. Dumbledore immediately took the opportunity to separate the fight. "Then... how does he perform magic?"

"Wandlessly," said Minerva. "And silently."

"He's talented," Severus immediately cut in.

"Reckless," Minerva argued back.

While the two bickered, Dumbledore shuddered. A first-year... doing advanced magic wandlessly and silently? It only cemented his suspicions. This was no Tom Riddle. This wasn't another Voldemort in the making. Merlin wasn't a lost child in need of guidance.

He did not know what string Cornelius Fudge had pulled, or what corners of the Earth the Minister had scoured to find the unexplainable phenomenon that was Merlin Pendragon. All he knew was that he'd greatly underestimated the Minister's foresight.

He'd done a little digging. He'd hit a bedrock of red tape, security restrictions, and tempered records very quickly. Merlin Pendragon's sudden inclusion into Hogwarts reeked of Ministerial intervention. Because of the timing, he had no doubt that Harry Potter was at the centre of this all.

"The situation has become a bit more complicated," Dumbledore admitted. "Needless to say, I do not think Merlin is an ordinary student."

"But he is still a student," Minerva emphasized. "Special circumstances or not, there are basic rules and expectations that have to be met, if not for his own learning, then for the sake of the others'. Young Miss Granger will feel as if all her diligence is for naught if we allow him to get away with his lackadaisical attitude."

"Does anyone else have something to say?" he asked. The other Professors chose to remain mum. "Severus?"

"Transfer him to Slytherin," the Potions Professor requested. "You will be doing us both a favour."

He had no power to do such a thing, but for the sake of the moment, he leveled a look at Minerva. He could see the gears turning in the woman's head. She was considering it.

"No. Merlin must stay in Gryffindor," she decided. "You will spoil him rotten in Slytherin, Severus. Even if Hogwarts can teach him nothing of magic, as his House Head, I will ensure that he at least learns to be a fine young gentlemen."

Severus said nothing.

"Well then," Dumbledore said. "For anybody teaching Merlin, I want to know every single thing he does in your lessons. I have no idea what Cornelius is thinking, but I can't let such a fascinating child walk through our halls without getting to know him."

Pandemonium.

"That's not a real sky," Ron poorly mimicked Hermione's know-it-all tone. "It's just an illusion."

"It's supposed to be!" Hermione screamed. "The book said it's just an enchanted ceiling. It's imaginary!"

"I'm not sure about you, Hermione," Harry tried to say as calmly as possible. "But all this rain landing on me feels very real."

On cue, a bolt of lightning struck the table, cooking a pile of steaks well-done and the students around covered their ears before the ensuing thunder boomed.

"This is all Merlin's fault! Look at him! He's completely dry!"

Of course I was dry. I knew the water-repelling charm. Also, I'd set up the miniature storm such that I was its eye, because the last thing I wanted was for rainwater to dilute this amazing pumpkin soup in front of me.

Rain pelted down in the Great Hall. The ceiling displayed dark, ominous clouds, streaks of lightning running through them occasionally. Many students had carried their plates and crawled underneath the table to eat. Some of the older ones had cast repellent charms to escape the rain. Dumbledore had conjured a seemingly endless supply of umbrellas, which were now slowly floating towards the tables.

I could see the amusement that flooded his features. I doubted this had ever happened before. The teachers, on the other hand, looked livid. Snape was scowling. McGonagall looked as red as the apple—never mind, it exploded in her hand. Quirrell seemed to look up at the sky nervously, his lips moving in prayer.

"Stop blaming Merlin for everything, Hermione!" Ron shouted. "Maybe you're just wrong this one time!"

No, she was absolutely right, but I wasn't going to confess to the crime just for her sake.

School was getting boring fast. Without any learning to be done, Hogwarts was really just a trial for me to amuse myself for an entire semester. Summoning a thunderstorm during dinner and watching everybody go nuts could only do so much to alleviate my boredom.

Perhaps tomorrow, I would go and explore the Forbidden Forest.

A/N: This fic is now my guilty pleasure. It's something I write when I'm taking a break from my other commitments. So while updates might be sporadic, chances are low of it getting abandoned.