He feels a familiar tingle as his body fills out into what he refers to as his "Young Camelot Form". He hasn't appeared as a 17 year old (or any age under 50) in over 1500 years, preferring instead to exist as middle aged, or in recent years, elderly. Merlin finds that people treat him better that way. That and he can get away with more. Both socially (sometimes he just needs to vent his snark) and magically. It is a lot weirder seeing an young man mumbling to himself in a seemingly nonsensical language than it is to see an old man doing what his neighbour's children refer to as "crazy man rambling".

He stretches out slowly, enjoying the feel of strong muscles holding him up. He had forgotten what it feels like to be young again, relying at times on the aching muscles to ground him and remind him he's alive. He quickly pushes out the thought of his typical 90 year old form as being a suitable punishment for his failures. That thought never leads to fun places and he is too busy to get caught up in the endless months of miserable reminiscing that would be sure to follow.

He looks down at himself and laughs, abruptly cutting off as the feel of his voice leaving his body is different. He had forgotten how his voice had changed with age. He tested it out more, making several nonsense syllables and reciting his favourite poem. Yes, it is quite nice to be youthful again.

He pulls himself out of his recitations to remember why he had laughed in the first place. His clothes look hilarious. He had decided some 5 years ago to roll with the name calling of his neighbours' children and buy himself some ridiculous sweaters to match the "crazy old man" persona he was viewed as. The current piece is fluorescent orange with a bright blue dragon print. It is also a knitted button down. He had paired it with dark blue paisley corduroy pants. It looks absurd. The neighbours' kid had found it a constant source of amusement and he had even overheard the mothers' gossiping about whether or not he was visually impaired in his old age. Eavesdropping on their conversations and mutterings were one of his favourite sources of entertainment. You could get away with a lot more radical fashion choices in the 21st century and he had plans to push it to the fullest extent.

Of course if he is to make a respectable first impression in the modern wizarding world, he is going to have to go shopping. Not only are the colour and material combinations startling, but they loosely drape over his body in a way that makes him appear like a coat hanger with a head. Pretty hard to be taken seriously like that.

Sneaking out the back door of his modest townhome, Merlin takes one final glance back at what has been his home for the past 10 years. It is time, yet again, to move on.

Taking his first step into the over crowded retail store, Merlin squints his eyes at the florescent lights. He is going to have to take some time getting used to his improved younger body's eyesight. The bright light is almost unbearable.

Darting past the front greeter, he approaches the first rack of clothes he deems interesting enough to be graced the privilege of clothing the body of "The Great and Powerful Merlin". He snickers to himself at the thought of the modern wizarding world becoming aware of their hero and god clothed in brightly coloured second hand muggle clothing. Perhaps he should purchase a blue and silver starred cloak to complete the ensemble.

After 15 minutes of rummaging through a random scattering of clothing roughly in his size he settles on a selection of shirts, pants, and sweaters of different shades of green black and grey. As the Slytherin head of house in year 1750, he is fully prepared to get sorted back into the house of his old friend Salazar.
The door rattles on his way out and he darts past a group of teenagers as they stare at him in a way he is unaccustomed. Spending the past thousand and more years as a middle aged man or older, he had forgotten what it was like to be sized up by teenagers. The look one of them gave him made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.

A Starbucks on the plaza corner calls out to him and he rushes in and squeezes past the line to get to the washroom. He promptly leans against the closed door and re-assess what is to be his situation. His presence at Hogwarts is mandatory, but now he is second guessing his decision to attend as a student. He initially thought that it would be a refreshing change on the boring routine his life had fallen into. Something exciting and new to stave off his boredom while he completes his mission. Of course, he had also been to Hogwarts as a teacher and they would have record of him as well as a painted likeness somewhere in the dungeons. It would be a lot easier to de-age himself and attend as a student as to not arouse suspicion. He had just forgotten what it was like to be a teenager. To be treated as a teenager. By not only adults, but other teenagers themselves. It was bad enough being significantly older than any other living sentient being, but to be assumed a child again will clearly be grating.

Merlin stops himself when he realizes that his breathing has become fast and laboured. He had worked himself into a panic. It is not often he gets to go through a new experience (he likes to think that after over 1500 years he has seen and done it all), but he had never attended school as a child. Of course he thinks of all humans a children, still so young, fresh, and most of all inexperienced, but he had completely overlooked some details of this adventure. Glancing at himself in the mirror he is spooked to see his own reflection. It is like stepping back in time. Perhaps if he is to open the bathroom door, Camelot will be on the other side. But it is just a delusion. He slaps cold water on his face from the sink to bring him back to the present.

Changing into his new clothes feels like the start to a new chapter in his life. He has peeled away the old bitter man and stepped into a new version of himself. My old self he corrects.

Feeling mentally shaken and ready to get moving, he leaves the café and apparates to the train station.

Loud is the first and only thing he can process for the first minute of appearing at the station. The train is squealing, parents are shouting for their children, kids are running around yelling things at their parents' and each other. Heartfelt goodbyes are shouted from a distance as the students are filling into the train. He realizes belatedly that no one else seems to be apparating into the station and are instead materializing as the run out of a wall. He gets a startled look from the small child closest to him, oops. Thankfully it appears that only the one kid has witnessed his impossible act. The child seems to be about 6 or 7 years old so thankfully his cover had not been blown. He makes a mental note to be more careful and observant.

Still taking time adjusting to his new surroundings, he makes a break for the train when he realizes that almost every student has already boarded. He had stood frozen for a full 10min as the presence of so many magic folk in one area is something he had forgotten the feel of. The air is almost buzzing with magic.

His luggage with his new bags of clothes are heavy as he realizes that he forgot to put a featherweight spell on them in his haste to escape his reflection in the Starbucks bathroom. Good thing his younger body has more strength. Of course he could always push his magic through his limbs to give them an inhuman level of power and strength, but he was always prone to clumsiness and didn't want another incident. He had broken through a brick wall when stumbling trying to regain his balance he had leaned into it too much. That had been difficult to explain away.

He bumps one of his bags into a girl in the narrow hallway while lost in thought. She glares at him, sticking her nose in the air and storming off. Now that was a reaction he was used to. Her behaviour and posture reminds him of the stuck up noble women at court.

Thinking that perhaps it might be possible to forge a new persona for himself, one that is, as his neighbours' kids say 'cool', he stubs his toe on air and realizes that is unlikely. As much as it would be refreshing to be seen as someone intelligent and sure of themself, he is still far too clumsy. It is not as if his long life had not afforded him comfortability in his own body, but more like the universe was angry that his immortality and immense power defied all the rules of nature and was punishing him. 'Solid patches of air' as he liked to call it. He is still not quite sure why it happens, but although it can be terribly frustrating, it also provides him with a sort of excitement in his life. Some element of unpredictability. 'What will Marvin trip over next' had even became a game for his past colleagues at one of the schools he taught at. Some of the students had gotten involved, and initially thinking they might take fate into their own hands and cause him to trip on purpose, they quickly realized that it was unnecessary. He stumbled at least once every single day without fail. In the early 1930's he decided to test the theory and kept a tally. The accuracy was uncanny.

Finding an empty compartment, he quickly closes the door and sits down. He sorts through his bag looking for the second hand Hogwarts robes he stashed in their after their hasty purchase from a wizarding family he had run into in the food market a week ago. That had been an unexpected encounter after he had just finalized his plans to attend the school. Destiny in action again, or just chance? Merlin has given up questioning the coincidences of his life. He hastily changes into them, rolling up the sleeves slightly as to hide the fact they don't quite cover the length of his long arms. Now he is ready to face the castle again.

He doses for a while staring out of the window as the train takes off with a painfully loud screech. The sky is clear and bright today, reminding him of the blank canvas that is his new life.

Should he be the bumbling idiot he was pegged as in Camelot, or should he be a star pupil? Perhaps he could make himself to be a role model for the impressionable students and try to help them to a good path? Merlin thinks his options over and settles for just seeing how things play out on their own. Of course he will have to dumb himself down and act as much a teenager as he can manage as to not arouse suspicion and blow his cover. He needs to fully assimilate. One of the many setbacks to immortality is having to stay hidden. Disaster would strike if he were discovered to be the real Merlin, a god among the wizarding world thought to be either dead or just a myth. He is almost a religious figure at this point. He would never be able to go anywhere or do anything without being bombarded with questions, expectations and accusations for the rest of his painfully long and indefinite existence. Not to mention when Arthur rises, it would make life very difficult for him. Merlin is very intelligent and wise, both naturally, and because of his long life, but Arthur is the one who should make the decision about the revelation. He was the strategic thinker between the two of them. And once outed, he could no longer roam freely. He prefers to remain a shadow of himself, and be perceived as a normal human to others. Truth be told, leaving it up to future Arthur is his way of putting it off.

Startled out of his ponderings, he looks up to see the door slide open to reveal a student peering into the compartment.

"Hey, uh, mind if we sit with you? The other compartments around here are full of giggling 11 year olds". A tall redhead boy absolutely covered in freckles walks in without waiting for an answer and sits down across from him followed by an excited looking girl with volumus brown hair who looks to be the same age.

Before Merlin can wonder if they are in his year the girl speeks up.

"Are you the new student?" When she asks, Merlin notices the boy was looking at him with a surprised expression.

"New student?!" Is that even possible?" He shouts at her, Merlin's presence momentarily forgotten.

"Well, seeing as I'm sitting here on a one way trip I should hope so." Merlin speaks up for the first time. The boy turns to him as if surprised he is sitting there.

"Well it's never happened before that I know." The boy squeezes his eyebrows together clearly pondering something.

The girl addresses him and gives him a stern look. "People do transfer sometimes Ronald, it's uncommon, yes, but not impossible." She turns back to look a Merlin. "Sorry about that, please excuse his lack of introduction. I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Ronald Weasley-"

"Ron." The boy, Ron, quickly corrects.

Merlin takes a moment to adjust to the sudden onslaught of having company. "I'm Maldin Ambrose, pleasure to meet you." Merlin gives the name of the alias he chose to put on his Hogwarts transfer papers. Going by a fake name is more natural for him at this point than using his real name.

"So where were you before Hogwarts?" Ron leans forwards in anticipation of tales from other secretive wizarding schools.

"Oh, I was homeschooled. I just moved to the UK and figured I might as well experience what going to a school is like for my final year." Merlin has thought about every possible question he could be asked and had plotted out a very in-depth backstory for himself. This is his standard procedure for starting a new life and he has had plenty of practice lying.

"Oh! You're in your final year as well! Ron and I are both seventh years, so we'll be classmates!" Hermione seems excited about the idea, as the prospect of a new student means new information and a possible friendship.

"What house do you think you'll be sorted in?" Ron acts like this is the most important question in existence. Merlin looks at their ties and just now notices the Gryffindor colours. They might have classes together, but they certainly won't share a dorm. Merlin wonders whether or not the house rivalries have died out since he taught at Hogwarts. It wasn't so bad then, just rather annoying, and by the time he left that it was almost gone.

"Oh I'm not sure really." Merlin isn't quite ready for any possible confrontations and the way Ron had asked the question makes him suspicious. He still needs time to adjust.

"Well Gryffindor is the best house, obviously. But Ravenclaw is alright I guess. No one really thinks great things of Hufflepuff-"

"That's not true, Hufflepuff is as fine a house as any. The students are kind and very supportive. They have many traits to be proud of Ronald, just because-"

Ron interrupts Hermione this time with an exasperated sound.

Before their argument can fully take off, Merlin decides to figure some things out. "What about Slytherin? I've read that they are a good house."

Ron shoots him a horrified look. "…not sure those are the words I would use mate." Hermione looks uncertain. Merlin isn't sure if it was uncertainty about Slytherin being a good house in agreeance with Ron, or uncertainty at what Ron was implying. "Slytherin's are nasty gits. Prejudiced deatheaters in training if you ask me." Hermione was silent.

Merlin is saddened and alarmed at the venom in Ron's voice. It seems the house rivalries are severe indeed. He wonders if it was the rise of this new dark wizard that spurred the old hate to come raging back in stronger force than ever before. He would certainly have his work cut out for him. He hopes this won't cause too much a problem for his future. Not that he isn't used to being hated and feared. He contemplates whether striking a friendship with these two would be worth it at the moment, if they will just turn around and hate him the moment he gets sorted. Perhaps they will realize that the house is not all bad once someone they know gets sorted there? Is it worth the hassle?

"I don't really see how an entire house of students can all be evil." Merlin wonders if they will pick up the bone he threw them.

"The world is full of bad people. It's lucky for us that the school sorts them all into one contained house though. Keeps it easier for the rest of us to live in peace in our own dorms. Very fitting that their dorms are in the dungeons. It's like old Salazar Slytherin knew that's where they all deserved to be." The redhead seems pleased by this declaration.

"I'm sure they're not all bad people." Ron shoots Hermione a look, "I mean, there are a lot of mean ones though. And they are the loudest."

"It doesn't make sense for an entire house to be like that." Merlin doesn't think anything he says at this point will make a difference.

"You're right, nothing about Slytherin makes sense." Ron's proclamation is the deciding factor for Merlin to keep his mouth shut on the topic for the time being.

Hermione does a quick topic change sensing a possible conflict. "So, where are you from, and what's it like being homeschooled?"

"I was born here, but my family moved to Canada 7 years ago," He does a lot of traveling, forging a new identity in each place. Canada was the place he had lived last. "When my uncle passed away, I moved back here and decided to attend school to finish my education. Although I'm not sure how necessary it is considering Gaius (my uncle) was a very strict teacher. I probably know enough about everything to not have to attend any school, but I want the experience. And to get my official NEWTS. Might be a bit tricky to find work without it." Of course the real reason he is at Hogwarts is because he had seen himself there in a vision in his last stay at the crystal cave. The cave only ever shows him visions of the future that are very important and tie in with his destiny, so here he is.

"Are there not any wizarding schools in Canada?" Ron looks dumbfounded.

"Oh, there are! I just lived up north and it's not very densely populated so I would have had to go to school very far away from home."

"What's it like over there?" Hermione seems very interested.

"Cold. Very very cold. But pretty, and the people are nice." He thinks of his neighbours' kids. Perhaps nice was the wrong word. Merlin was never bothered by them, quite the opposite in fact, but nice is a bit of a stretch. At least for them.

"I'd like to travel when I'm done school. Do research and study abroad." Hermione pulls out a heavy looking book from her bag. "Historical Places of Magic explains all of the major wizarding world historical sites and I think I could learn a lot from visiting them. Have you traveled to anywhere outside of Canada or the UK?"

"A couple places, yeah." Merlin is intentionally vague. The conversation flows similarly for the remainder of the trip and Merlin slowly works up his excitement the closer they get to Hogwarts. It has been too long since he was last here. So many great memories. He looks forward to making more.

By the time they reach the school grounds Merlin is completely hyped up. Noticing this, Hermione and Ron tell him some of the fun things that go on at Hogwarts. Ron rambles on about quidditch right up until the point where they exit the train and Merlin get his first glimpse of the castle in centuries.

With Ron and Hermione momentarily forgotten, Merlin gazes up at the structure. The castle never fails to amaze him. There has never been a place Merlin feels more at home than here behind the walls of Camelot's grand castle.