The Gathering: The New Order of Merlin Book 1

67. Just a Merlin

       The following morning, Merlin knocked on the door of the girls' lavatory and poked his head inside.

"Anyone here?"

No one answered so he went in. It was the most depressing public lavatory in the castle, complete with yellowed tiles, chipping paint, and faucets missing knobs. And it was haunted.

The ghost called Moaning Myrtle floated above her usual toilet and quietly sobbed. "Another boy," she complained and prepared herself to launch at him.

Merlin wasn't looking forward to the cold feeling of a ghost passing through, so he plastered a pleasant smile on. "Myrtle, but I'm here to see you."

"You are?" Her stance completely changed from an aggressive, vengeful spirit to that of a shy, flirty girl.

"Of course. There are no other pretty teenage ghosts in this castle. Who else could I be looking for?"

He tried to sound genuine but his smile was hard to maintain once he heard snickering coming from the last stall.

Myrtle curled her hair on her finger while smiling shyly and then her face contorted into a vicious snarl. Her mood swings were frightening.

"You laugh because you're jealous," she screeched, looking in the direction of the stall where the snickering got louder. "No boy could possibly visit the ugly Myrtle. I'm a girl too! Even if," she sobbed, "a dead one."

She floated in circles under the ceiling while wailing her sobs. Her shrieking intensified until, with a high-pitched scream, she dived into her toilet, splashing Merlin with the water. His only consolation was that these toilets were never used. At least he hoped so.

With the ghost out of the way, he walked up to the last stall and pushed the door open. Three amused faces looked up at him, and seeing how wet he was, roared with laughter. He pulled out his wand and tried to remember a spell that was safe to use in front of these kids. He hadn't used verbal wand spells much before coming back to Hogwarts. His memory was like a giant cabinet with many drawers. He had to close some drawers to access others. He couldn't keep them all open at the same time or the cabinet would lose balance and fall over, which he guessed would be equivalent to losing his mind. The drawers containing names of wand spells were so rarely used, they were covered in cobwebs and rat droppings, but it was about time to clean them up and shuffle inside for something useful.

"Targeo," he said the spell, and the water dried off.

There was no more space for him inside the stall, so he stood outside with both hands braced against the stall's walls. He was amazed that the three of them fit in there, or that they wanted to squeeze around the toilet at all.

"How's the stewing going?"

"Perfectly," Hermione answered and stirred the lacewing stew.

He craned his neck to inspect the mixture. The color and consistency were good. He had been monitoring her to ensure she followed the recipe and didn't create a poison by accident. The potion's potency would greatly depend on the brew's quality. Thankfully, this young witch was a perfectionist.

"It looks great. You're really good at this."

Hermione's cheeks blushed a vivid pink, and she cleared her throat. "About the missing ingredients."

"I'll get them. You can count on me."

"We could create a diversion to help you," she offered.

Ron smiled wickedly. "We're making a Swelling Solution next Potions. Let's put Filibuster fireworks in Crabbe's cauldron."

Harry sniggered while Hermione nodded in agreement. Were these kids crazy?

Merlin said, "You are all mad. That's going to cover everyone in boils!"

"Snape has an antidote, I'm sure," Hermione dismissed him.

"No way. I'm not getting innocent kids hurt over this. Believe me, he doesn't care enough to lift a finger to help a student in need. I wish you had been there when I was bleeding in front of him."

Hermione immediately looked up with concern in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he smiled at her. "I'll get even. Don't worry."

"Get even?" Harry asked jokingly. "Who can get even with Snape?"

Merlin changed his expression to the mask of absolute lethal sincerity. "Do you doubt the Legendary Merlin?"

Ron chuckled. "You're not THE Merlin. You're just a Merlin."

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

Merlin snorted and crouched down to their level. "Alright, a Ron, if that's what you wish to call me."

The trio joked around in the toilet stall, and Merlin's eyes lingered on Harry. There was still an important question he didn't ask the boy—how Harry knew to show up in that hallway on Halloween, but he couldn't ask yet. He felt like he was at a trial period—his friendship and trustworthiness hadn't been tested yet.

He didn't know yet how he was going to sneak past Snape to break into the locked storeroom, but he was resourceful. He'd broken into Gringotts bank in the past without the goblins figuring it out. He could handle this task easily. It was time to show them what kind of Merlin he was.