Callum stumbled through the front door of his house, sobbing.
His face was swollen, his nose still bleeding, streaks of dried blood mixed with dirt along his cheeks. His clothes were rumpled, one sleeve torn, hands shaking as he tried, and failed, to wipe his tears away.
At the table, his parents froze.
They had been in the middle of their meal, wooden bowls half-full, steam still rising.
"Callum ?!" his mother cried, standing so fast her chair scraped loudly across the floor. "What happened to you ?"
His father, still seated, narrowed his eyes immediately, scanning his son's injuries with the trained instinct of a village guard.
"Who did this ?" he asked sharply.
Callum sniffed loudly, his lower lip trembling.
"Merlin," he said, voice breaking just enough to sound convincing. "He just… attacked me. For no reason."
His mother's face twisted in fury.
"That boy ?" she snapped. "That little freak ?"
She rushed to Callum's side, cupping his face gently despite her anger.
"He hit you like this ? Unprovoked ?"
Callum nodded quickly.
"He just…went crazy," he said. "I didn't even do anything."
His father didn't respond immediately.
Instead, he leaned back slightly, fingers tapping against the wooden table.
"Did Merlin do anything strange ?" he asked slowly. "Say anything unusual ?"
Callum hesitated.
Just for a moment.
"No," he said at last, shaking his head. "Nothing."
Because admitting the truth, admitting that Merlin had stopped the branch, would mean admitting he had started the fight.
The man exhaled quietly.
Then, to Callum's surprise, his father's shoulders relaxed.
"Good," he said flatly.
Callum blinked.
"…Good ?"
His father stood up and walked over, placing a firm hand on his son's shoulder.
"Listen to me carefully," he said, voice low and serious. "You are to stay away from that boy. Do you understand ?"
Callum stared at him.
"What ? But he—"
"Stay. Away," his father repeated.
His mother looked between them, utterly confused, and furious.
"What are you saying ?" she demanded. "Our son comes home beaten and crying, and you tell him to avoid the boy who did it ?"
She crossed her arms.
"You're a man. A guard of this village. Do something about it."
Her husband turned toward her slowly.
"No," he said. "We forget this ever happened."
Her eyes widened.
"Forget it ?" she snapped. "Why ? Why are you acting like a coward ?"
That word struck deep.
"SHUT UP !" he shouted suddenly.
The room went silent.
Callum flinched.
His mother froze, shocked.
The man dragged a hand down his face, breathing hard, frustration clear in every movement.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he said hoarsely. "You don't know anything."
He turned away from them, staring at the far wall.
"I knew Merlin's father," he continued, his voice quieter now. "Before he left. I saw him do things."
His hands trembled slightly.
"Things that will haunt me for the rest of my life."
The color drained from his face as memories resurfaced, memories he had buried deep and never spoken aloud.
The woman opened her mouth…then stopped.
She had never seen her husband like this.
Never pale.
Never shaken.
Callum stared at his father in silence, fear slowly replacing his confusion.
No one spoke after that.
The house was filled with a heavy, suffocating quiet.
And for the first time, Callum understood something instinctively.
Whatever Merlin's father was…
It was something his father was truly afraid of.
—-
Merlin sat on the edge of the bed, legs dangling, trying very hard not to move.
His mother stood in front of him with a small cloth soaked in a strong-smelling herbal mixture. Every time the fabric touched his skin, his body betrayed him, he flinched and trembled, teeth clenching as a sharp sting spread across the bruises on his arms and face.
"Tss" he hissed softly.
Freya sighed, though her touch remained careful.
"I turn my back for barely a moment," she said, pressing the cloth gently against his forearm, "and you already find trouble."
Merlin frowned.
"It wasn't my fault," he said quickly. "They were—"
Before he could finish, she cut him off without even looking up.
"You're lucky," she said firmly, "that I need you to help me gather herbs in the forest. Otherwise, you'd be grounded for a long time."
Merlin winced as the cloth touched a fresh bruise.
"…I still don't get why you can't go by yourself," he muttered. "You know the forest better than anyone."
Freya paused for just a second, then resumed treating him.
"A woman who makes medicines at home is one thing," she said calmly. "A woman who makes medicines at home and walks alone into the forest is another entirely."
Merlin tilted his head.
"You went before," he said. "You said so."
She nodded.
"I did," she replied. "When your father was still here. I could go then. When you grow older, it'll be the same."
Merlin fell quiet.
The room filled with the soft crackle of the hearth and the faint scent of herbs.
"…Mom ?" he asked carefully.
"Yes ?"
"Who was my dad ?" he asked. "And… why isn't he with us anymore ?"
Freya's hands stopped.
The cloth hovered in the air for a moment before she slowly lowered it onto the table beside her. She took a breath and sat down next to Merlin.
"His name was Mahad," she said softly.
Merlin listened closely.
"He was kind," she continued. "Attentive. Loving. Strong. Brave."
Her eyes softened as she spoke.
"We married shortly before I realized I was pregnant with you. He was…mysterious," she admitted. "But I didn't care. I loved him. And he loved me."
She looked down at her hands.
"One night, he was different," she said. "Nervous. Sweating. He said he needed to leave for a while. That he would come back soon."
Her voice lowered.
"The next day, men came to the village asking about him. They stayed for two days. Then they left."
Merlin swallowed.
"…What do you think happened to him ?" he asked quietly.
Freya shook her head.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "Many things could have happened."
She looked back at her son.
"But I chose to stay. To take care of you. Instead of chasing someone who likely didn't want to be found."
Merlin hesitated.
"…How did that make you feel ?"
She was silent for a moment.
Then she spoke slowly.
"It was hard," she said. "Very hard at first."
She reached out and gently brushed Merlin's hair back from his forehead.
"But I do what I love," she continued. "I take care of my son. I make medicines that help people. And I wouldn't trade this life for anything in the world."
Merlin leaned slightly into her touch.
His chest felt warm. And heavy.
Whatever his father had been… whatever secrets surrounded his disappearance…
Merlin knew one thing for certain. This woman in front of him had chosen him.
And that meant everything.
—-
Merlin left the house with a small leather pouch tied at his waist, the familiar weight of it tapping lightly against his hip as he walked.
The forest greeted him with quiet sounds, leaves rustling, distant birds calling, the soft crunch of earth beneath his boots. As he searched for the herbs his mother had asked for, his thoughts kept drifting back.
To the moment the branch had stopped in mid-air.
To the warmth that had rushed through him.
'If this really is the Harry Potter universe…' he thought, fingers brushing over a cluster of leaves as he identified them, 'then that had to be magic.'
He gathered the herbs carefully, tying them into small bundles and slipping them into his pouch. Eventually, his wandering brought him to a small clearing.
From there, the lake spread out before him.
The water was calm, reflecting the sky like polished glass. On the far horizon, he could see the village, tiny rooftops clustered together, thin trails of smoke rising gently from chimneys as fires burned inside each home.
It was peaceful.
Too peaceful to ignore the questions burning inside him.
"…Alright," Merlin muttered. "Let's try this."
He raised his hand toward a few loose stones scattered across the ground and focused as hard as he could.
Nothing.
Not a twitch. Not a tremble.
"…Of course," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "That'd be too easy."
He closed his eyes and tried to remember.
The knot.
That feeling deep in his stomach, unraveling. The warmth spreading through his body.
He stacked a few stones into a small pile, then sat down cross-legged in front of them, facing the lake. Slowly, he straightened his back and rested his hands on his knees.
He closed his eyes.
He breathed in. And listened.
At first, there was nothing but the wind, the distant water, his own heartbeat.
Then…something else.
A faint spark.
So small he almost missed it.
Merlin focused on it, gently, carefully. The spark grew.
Warmth began to flow through his veins, spreading from his chest down his arms, into his hands. It wasn't overwhelming,more like a steady heat, controlled, waiting.
It wanted to go out.
He exhaled.
And let it go.
The heat lessened, but didn't vanish. It stabilized, like a cup of water slowly overflowing while being refilled at the same time.
Merlin opened his eyes.
Three small stones floated in the air in front of him.
His breath caught.
"…No way."
Slowly, hesitantly, he rotated his hand.
The stones began to spin clockwise.
He turned his hand the other way.
They reversed, spinning counterclockwise.
A grin spread across his face.
"YES !"
The moment he shouted, everything went wrong.
The stones shot off violently in different directions.
One slammed into the ground, leaving a small crater. Another struck a tree, biting deep into the bark. The last skipped across the lake's surface before sinking beneath the water.
Merlin jumped to his feet, heart pounding, not with fear, but excitement.
"I'm not crazy," he breathed, laughing softly. "I really did it."
The branch. The magic. The kelpie.
He was almost certain now.
'Ninety-eight percent,' he thought grimly. 'I'm in the Harry Potter universe.'
That… wasn't exactly comforting.
Especially considering when this might be. And he still had no idea what year it was.
Lost in thought, Merlin barely noticed the sound at first.
And hearing a soft whinny, he froze.
Slowly, he turned toward the lake.
Near the water's edge, just above the surface, a head emerged.
A horse's head, but not quite.
Its skin was a deep green, slick and wet, strands of kelp-like mane drifting around its face. Intelligent eyes watched him calmly.
Merlin's eyes widened.
"…You came back," he whispered.
The small kelpie lifted its head a little higher, water dripping from its mane, watching him with quiet curiosity.
Merlin's heart raced, not with fear, but awe.
Whatever this world held…
It was already far more magical, and far more dangerous, than he had ever imagined.