Chapter 10

"Hi!"

Myrddin looked up from his morning Prophet to observe the boy grinning eagerly at him.

"Good morning, Modrot," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"Is it true your name means 'Merlin'?"

Myrddin did a double take. No-one had asked him that before. He himself had considered the irony of it many times.

"You know, I think it does," he said. "It's a Welsh name."

"I like names," grinned Modrot. "Your friend Draco, his name means 'Dragon', but it's also a constellation. I mean, how cool is that?"

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"You know his name?"

Myrddin nodded, knowing who Modrot was referring to.

"It means flight of death in French. It's very strange. Did he make it up himself?"

"Don't tell anybody," whispered Myrddin. "But his real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Riddle," chuckled Modrot. "Speaks for itself, doesn't it? Tom, that means twin. Marvolo… do you know, I've never heard that one before? It's probably a family name."

"I think so…" said Myrddin, wanting to move away from Marvolo. "What does your name mean, Modrot?"

"I'm not sure about Modrot itself," confessed the boy. "But the English version of the name means 'brave'."

"Oh really? What's the English version?"

The bell rang for the first lesson, and everyone began to leave. Modrot grinned, and Myrddin could tell it was a question he loved being asked.

"Mordred," he said eagerly. "Isn't that the coolest thing?"

And with that he scampered off, leaving Myrddin staring open-mouthed behind him.

Mordred…

Even now, the name sent a shiver down his spine. If it was the same Mordred, his Mordred… but he couldn't know, or he would have already tried to kill him. That, he was certain of.

Myrddin had had enough. It was time to wake Arthur.

XXX

"Mr Brown, a word if you will."

Arthur cringed as he was called back by the Slytherin, the silver snakes gleaming on his robes. Ron shot him a pitying look, before vanishing into the classroom.

"May I help you?"

"Walk with me," Myrddin commanded. Arthur shrugged, but followed. For some strange reason, he could not bring himself to fear Myrddin.

"I am supposed to be in Dark Arts…"

"I'll cover for you," said Myrddin dismissively. "I'll tell them I was torturing you in the dungeons or something."

"Okay," said Arthur nervously. "Are you going to torture me in the dungeons?"

Myrddin laughed, sending shivers up Arthur's spine.

"Hopefully it will not come to that," he smiled. "I only wish to speak to you."

"What do you want to know?"

"Where are you from, Arthur?"

"Worcestershire," he answered. "We live in a tiny muggle village."

"I see. Have you any brothers… sisters?"

"No. My parents were told they couldn't have children."

"But…"

"Yes, I know, I'm here anyway. 'Their miracle child' they called me."

"Sometimes I wonder if it is worth bringing children into this world of darkness."

"My dad always said: when there's life, there's hope."

"I suppose so. This way."

"Where are we going?"

"The Room of Requirement," announced Myrddin.

"The what?"

The Slytherin came to a stop in front of a tapestry depicting a scene of old. A very daft young man was trying to teach trolls to dance ballet. Arthur watched, nonplussed as Myrddin paced back and forth three times, and a door appeared.

"Inside," said Myrddin tersely, looking around for any prying eyes. Arthur obeyed quickly.

"Wow."

They had stepped into a spacious, well lit stone room. There were weapons lining the walls, swords, bows, axes, and huge shelves were filled with books.

"Catch!"

Suddenly there was a sword flying towards him. Arthur panicked, but his body responded automatically, snatching the hilt out of midair.

"What are you doing?"

But Myrddin wasn't listening, he was swinging another sword in his hand, seemingly testing its length. He held out his other hand, and his eyes flashed gold. To his dismay Arthur watched his wand fly into Myrddin's waiting fist. The Slytherin slid it into his pocket.

"Now we can begin."

Without warning he attacked the blonde, swinging his sword, only to be met with Arthur's own.

"What are you doing?" he screamed. Myrddin just grinned evilly.

"Nobody can hear you!" he taunted. "No need to be an ass about it."

"I am not an ass!"

"No, you're right, you're a royal one."

"Well… you're a… a… a clot pole!" shouted Arthur, blocking another blow.

"That's my word!"

"Dollop head!"

"Also mine… honestly Arthur, can't you come up with something better?"

"Shut up Merlin!"

Arthur froze and fell to the floor as he realised what he'd just said. With a gasp it all came flooding back. His father, Camelot, and his best friend, Merlin Ambrosius…

"Merlin?" he whispered, looking up at Myrddin. "Is that really you?"

Myrddin nodded

"Welcome back, Arthur Pendragon."

It was too much, the memories were overwhelming him. With a small sigh, his eyes rolled up into his head and he fainted.

XXX

"Gwen?"

Gwendoline looked round to see Susan looking at her worriedly.

"Yes?"

"Can you see Arthur anywhere?" she whispered. Gwen's eyes hovered over the Gryffindor table.

"No," she whispered back. "I haven't seen him all day. I'm sure he's alright."

Susan bit her lip anxiously.

"What if they've got him?"

XXX

Myrddin had seen the tell-tale signs of his friend's collapse, and had managed to catch his head before it hit the ground. After a quick examination he had determined that Arthur was merely sleeping, and sat cross legged on the floor waiting for him to wake.

Time was a tricky thing in the Room, but it he could tell it was well into the night when Arthur finally began to stir. He groaned, putting a hand on his temples.

"Merlin?" he asked dazedly. "Myrddin?"

"Here," said Myrddin gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was trampled by a hippogriff. How… I… how did we get here? We were in Camelot. I died, then I was a baby. I… what?"

Myrddin laughed at the other boy's confusion.

"We were reincarnated," he said. "It's complicated."

"More like disorientating."

"That too."

"I've got a whole other life in my head…"

"Yeah, sorry about that. I guess it's quite distracting."

"Why are you apologising? It's not your fault. You always were an idiot, Merlin."

"Myrddin," he corrected.

"Whatever," said Arthur dismissively. "The gods have been kind to us. A whole new life…"

"Yes. So, what shall we do with it?"

"That's obvious," grinned Arthur. "We need to take down the evil sorcerer, just like the old days."

"It was a rhetorical question, clot pole."

"Don't be such an idiot."