The Gathering: The New Order of Merlin Book 1

57. Baby Dragon

       When Merlin disapparated from Dumbledore's office in a cloud of black smoke and a whirl of wind, he was showing off. There was no denying it. He quickly regretted it as the castle's wards pressed against him, holding him in. They were cast to disallow anyone to apparate within Hogwarts, but they were no match for someone like him. He fought through them until he was free.

Now what? For a moment, his non-corporeal form hovered outside of Hogwarts aimlessly. It was a mistake to use this spell while in anger as now he had to expel even more effort to focus and lock down on where the house-elf's mark was. He should've done that beforehand. It took a lot of persistence, but thankfully, he was able to follow the trail.

He had just as much trouble getting through the wards of the building where the elf led him to. He regained solid form, tried to steady his breath, and took a look around. He was inside a large room, a hallway of sorts with shiny marble floors and a tall ceiling. He apparated some distance away from the elf to not alert the creature of his arrival, but to his chagrin, the room wasn't empty. A few people—wizards, judging by their robes—looked around, wondering where the wind came from. Merlin quickly ran behind a column before they noticed him.

It worked in his favor that they didn't recognize the whirl of wind as a teleportation spell. Modern wizards were only used to what their version of apparition looked like, and that was also what they set up wards against. Their ignorance of Old Magic allowed Merlin to overcome any ward. They couldn't keep him in or out of anywhere, but breaking through the wards took so much of his energy, he felt exhausted already. It wasn't a good start to his reconnaissance mission.

And he was half-dressed. He had trousers on but his top was a pajama shirt with a disco-dancing baby dragon and the words "BURN! BABY, BURN!" on it. He thought it was funny when shopping for age-appropriate attire, but now, he wished he was wearing something else, just anything other than this. No wonder Dumbledore had a hard time treating him seriously when he showed up looking like that.

He could use glamour to make his pajama appear more shirt-like but it wasn't wise to tire himself even more with difficult spells. His wand would have come in handy about now, but it sat on his nightstand where he'd left it. As much as he hated to admit it, wand magic had its use. When he felt depleted like this, he would have no problem performing wand spells. Oh, his temper really did a number on him this time. He was completely unprepared.

"Who cast that spell?" a woman who sounded like an authority figure asked the bewildered secretary.

"Men from the Department of Mysteries just passed by with a large crate," he offered, and that seemed to be a satisfiable answer because no more questions were asked.

Merlin smacked his forehead. He was in the Ministry of Magic. Oh, what a place to be found in wandless and wearing baby dragon pajamas. While he was stuck there, waiting to regain his strength, he might as well look for Dobby and his master. He snuck around, hiding behind columns and statues until he saw the elf.

Dobby stood in a corner, picking on his dirty pillowcase and quietly sobbing to himself. Merlin crouched and waited for the elf's master to claim him. Should he subdue him immediately or find out who it was and deliberate the next step with Dumbledore? He was torn in the decision. If the tables were flipped, would Dumbledore wait? Nah. He wouldn't wait.

And wasn't that frustrating. Why did it feel like Merlin was a foot soldier to the "bigger" wizard? Why wasn't he the boss? Should he assert his dominance or was he more comfortable doing the behind-the-scenes work?

Hours passed and Merlin grew tired of waiting, but he didn't want to leave—the master could come at any moment. An awful thought struck him. What if Dobby's master forgot to pick up his servant on his way out? Dobby would wait until he was called. How long would that be? Merlin's stomach gave a mighty growl, and he wondered if he should wait longer or give up for the day.