Cursed: The New Order of Merlin Book 2

7. Bad omens

Merlin settled back into the student routine like a pro, keeping his head down, not drawing attention to himself. Everyone but McGonagall fell for his acting. Everyone but her didn't care. He felt her eyes on him whenever she was in the same room. As the Deputy Headmistress, she had every right to be suspicious of him—he would be surprised if no one was—but it annoyed him that Dumbledore still hadn't told her. The old wizard couldn't possibly deem her untrustworthy, so why the secrecy? Did his age affect his judgement? Merlin had to keep an eye on his aging friend. No one needed a powerful wizard turning senile on them.

Worries about Dumbledore's age were on Merlin's mind as he collided with another student in the hallway.

"Sorry," he blurted, but then blanched when he saw whom he'd walked into. Why did this always happen to him?

"Watch it!" Draco Malfoy snapped, pushing Merlin away from himself. Any normal person would've stumbled back in that situation, but Merlin, of course, had to lose his balance and fall on his behind.

Malfoy's lips curled in disgust as he stood over him. "And stay down. That's where you, Gryffinlosers, belong."

"Still picking on people younger than you, Malfoy?"

It was Harry that came to Merlin's rescue this time. While the two boys exchanged death stares, Merlin scrambled up. There was a silver lining in this humiliation, he told himself. As embarrassing as his lack of coordination was, at least he didn't have to fake looking powerless.

Malfoy gasped and pointed behind Harry, "Oh, look. Dementor!"

Harry didn't even flinch, but Malfoy laughed as if his trick had worked and walked away with his chin raised.

"Thanks," Merlin said, fixing his scarf.

"Notice how he forgot his arm sling," Harry gritted out. "He's been faking an injury. Hagrid's first teaching lesson didn't go well due to Malfoy's own fault, but of course, they'll take his snobby word over Hagrid's or mine. I hate this world sometimes."

They walked together and Harry vented out his frustrations about Malfoy and worries about what would happen to Buckbeak, Hagrid's hippogriff, and confusion over what Arthur had said. Merlin's head turned to him so fast, his neck painfully cricked, but apparently, Harry was only talking about Arthur Weasley, Ron's father, whom he'd spoken with before coming to Hogwarts. Of course, he was. Who else could he have been talking about?

"What exactly did he say?" Merlin asked, hoping Harry didn't notice his reaction.

"He said that no matter what I might hear, I shouldn't look for Sirius Black. Why would I look for a convicted murderer? I feel like there was something he wanted to tell me, something important I should know. Who else do you think would know this?"

Merlin shrugged but died a little inside. Harry deserved to know his own history. It was wrong of Dumbledore to hold everything back from him, but Merlin needed to stick to the plan and remain on his best behavior, so he said nothing.

"Who are we talking about?" asked Ron as he caught up with them.

Harry answered, "Your dad and his cryptic warning."

"He didn't tell me anything at all. Always the last to know..."

Harry ruffled his hair and it stood up even messier than usual. "That and the Grim, it's all so... I just wish this could be a normal school year, you know?"

"What grim?" Merlin asked.

Harry and Ron shuffled uncomfortably.

Harry answered timidly, "Professor Trelawney thought my tea leaves looked like The Grim. I'm not sure if it even looked like a dog's head."

"Bad luck, that is," Ron said, looking at Harry as if he'd drop dead at any moment.

"Stupid superstition," said Hermione, suddenly standing next to Ron.

Ron jumped and shrieked, "Where did you come from?"

"Honestly, Ron. Could you be any more blind? I've been walking with you for ages. Harry, there is nothing to worry about. There's no such thing as bad omens. Right, Merlin?"

Three pairs of eyes were on Merlin.

"Bad omens are more than just superstitions," he told them, "but seeing a black dog doesn't necessarily foreshadow death. It could just be an ordinary dog."

"See?" Hermione said triumphantly. "Merlin agrees that Trelawney's a nutcase."

"I didn't say that. I've never even met her."

She continued, "And that closes the case. Stop worrying, Harry, and Ron, stop making it worse by playing to her nutty fortune-telling."

"You don't think much about Divination, huh?" Merlin asked.

She pursed her lips. "I've yet to see proof that any of it is real."

"Then why'd you take this class?" Ron asked.

"As little evidence supports it, it is a branch of magic. I don't ignore any branch of magic. What does Old Religion say about Divination?"

"Divination is real," Merlin answered, "A true Seer is rare, but most wizards and witches can prompt visions, but it's easy to misinterpret them."

"Guesswork," Hermione said. "That's what I thought."

Merlin said nothing more. His relationship with visions was very rocky. Prophecies had a sick sense of humor. Harry's prophecy wasn't even specifically about him until Voldemort decided that it was. If Voldemort hadn't heard about the prophecy, he wouldn't have taken action, and he wouldn't have made the first part of it come true. Harry's parents would've still been alive and history would have taken a very different turn. But as rotten luck had it, Harry's prophecy had a second part to it. The worst ordeal was still up ahead. Would he get to reach adulthood before the time came? Would Merlin really be able to help if Harry's fate had already been decided?

"Why are you looking at me?" Harry asked.

Merlin looked away. "Sorry, I was lost in thought."

Whatever future may come, Harry was safe now at Hogwarts, and Merlin had nothing better to do anyway. He might as well stick around, protect Harry, and see how this prophecy business played out.