Only A Boy

What Was Lost

"Mr Evans, stop gawking and follow me. You'll have plenty of time to observe the wonders of the magical community after we get your allowance."

"Right, sorry." Merlin shook himself and rushed to catch up with the spectral bat, weaving through the crowd of shoppers as he stared around the alley.

To see a magical community thriving and flourishing like this, well, it made his chest feel warm. Though he had one strange memory of the Hogwarts Founders appearing in his room, he couldn't remember living in Albion. He couldn't remember a time where people lived happily with magic. And though there were two worlds now, split by a curtain, he didn't worry about discovery. Silas had accepted him wholeheartedly, and he was sure the Ministry wouldn't allow knowledge of magic spread.

It was a rare comfort.

Thwack.

Merlin collided with something and stumbled back, rubbing his forehead. "S—sorry!"

"Watch it!"

The woman he'd hit stalked off, Merlin shouting another apology after her. It wasn't like he'd meant to hit her – she'd stopped abruptly in front of him! He sighed, rolled his eyes, and looked ahead.

Oh no.

Where was the bat?! Merlin blinked and tried to stand on his tiptoes. He really missed his height. He couldn't see over the heads of the people in front of him, and Snape's back had vanished from view. What kind of a guardian was he? Did he even notice that Merlin had been caught in the crowd? He jumped and thought he saw that oily-head go round the corner. Feeling a little panicky—it wasn't like he had any idea where to go—he tried to catch up. Pushing his way through the crowd, muttering apologies to the people he bumped, he came around the corner breathing heavily.

And the professor was nowhere in sight.

"Brilliant. Just brilliant."

He'd gotten lost. He didn't even know what their destination had been. Obviously to get money, but he didn't recall the name of the place. Scowling, annoyed that he'd been left behind, he started walking again. He kicked the ground, pebbles skidding.

"You lost, kid?"

Merlin didn't even have to think about his reply. "No," he shot back, turning to look at the shop owner. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor was written on the sign hanging above him. He stopped, considering as he looked from the sign to the man standing near the door. If Merlin were to guess, he was older than Snape—his brown hair was streaked with silver, his beard and moustache however were still rich brown and neatly trimmed. He wore a violet waistcoat decorated with golden moons, a chain trailing out of his right pocket. "Actually—have you seen a really tall bloke with black oily hair, a hooked nose, and robes like a bat?"

The man—Florean, Merlin presumed—laughed. "That sounds like Professor Snape."

"Yeah! Him!" Merlin broke into a relieved smile. "So, you've seen him?"

Florean nodded. "Headed right on down the street."

Merlin swallowed. "Do you know where?"

"I didn't speak to him, kid."

"Right." Merlin heaved a sigh and ran his hands through his hair, messing it up. Well, that didn't help him in the slightest.

"First time I've ever heard of someone looking for Ol' Snape." The man looked thoughtful, leaning against the wall of his shop. "What d'ya need him for?"

"He's supposed to be helping me get my school supplies," Merlin said through gritted teeth. He shook his head. "Apparently, we were getting my allowance but I'm still allowance-less."