Merlin had a mission to complete. He'd been thinking over the issue for days, trying to work out the best time to attempt his task, and had come to the conclusion that if it was going to be done it needed to be done at night.

This meant he was going to have to fall asleep during the day.

During class seemed like the best way to do it subtly. He could wait until the weekend when it was less likely that someone would wake him up and interrupt things, but really this whole thing was getting out of control and he didn't think that he could wait that long.

He needed to break Dumbledore out of the dungeons and take the old wizard somewhere safe – the druids would be ideal, if they were willing to offer him sanctuary – before his execution date was set. Merlin had waited, hoping desperately that Arthur and Gaius would be successful in their attempt to understand the old man and his warning, but so far their efforts had been fruitless.

It was only a matter of time before Arthur labelled it a hopeless enterprise and set up a pyre in the courtyard. Merlin would not see his headmaster burn – not on his watch. He had asked the dragon – okay, ordered the dragon – to convey a message to the druids, and had set up a meeting place.

If only he'd taken History of Magic, Merlin groaned inwardly. From what Harry and Ron had told him of their experience of the subject in previous years, it would have been the ideal lesson to fall asleep in. ("Don't listen to them, Mercury, History of Magic is fascinating. In fact, I think I still have some of my O.W.L notes under my bed, wait here a moment...")

Unfortunately, things were never that easy.

Attempting it in Transfiguration was not even worth considering – Minerva McGonagall had eyes like a hawk. The professor reminded him a little of a female version of Gaius, able to make the warlock want to melt into the ground with one disapproving glance.

Care of Magical creatures was also impossible, being a class of one. (Two if you counted Fang, who seemed to enjoy following Merlin around and drooling on his shoes during the lessons.)

That left Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Herbology and Potions. Merlin struck DADA and Potions off his mental list, before reconsidering. Would Snape allow him to sleep? It was pushing it – if Harry put his head on the table and dozed off during Potions, the warlock had no doubt the boy would be spending every evening for the rest of the year in detention. It would be a huge risk – on the one hand Merlin suspected Snape had a bit of a soft spot for him, what with fussing over his eating habits and inviting him to become his (secret) apprentice; but on the other, he was a Gryffindor, and Snape had to keep up appearances for the Slytherins.

He had Charms and Transfiguration in the morning and double Potions in the afternoon. If a suitable moment didn't arise before then, he'd have to take the chance.

Of course, he was run off his feet all day. He pretended to act tired over breakfast, yawning, slumping and suchlike – but half the people in the hall were, so it didn't really go noticed.

Charms offered no chance – Flitwick had them working as a group, standing in a circle in the middle of the room for a "fun" game of 'don't let the objects hit the ground' by hitting them with quick-fire floating charms, but which ultimately turned into 'don't get hit by a flying chair' (Merlin was one of the few to accomplish this feat.) He missed break time accompanying Neville to the hospital wing and waiting for Madame Pomfrey to fix his broken nose and apply healing potion to the bruise on the boy's forehead.

He tried resting his head briefly on the desk during transfiguration when McGonagall stepped out of the classroom, but Dean was swift in delivering a blow to the back of the head with a laugh.

He spent lunch frantically writing a potions essay he hadn't realised he'd forgotten to do until Hermione casually mentioned it on the way the great hall.

Gaius hadn't hidden his disapproval last time he'd caught Merlin using emotional manipulation, taking advantage of Arthur's concern for him to make the King open up. He knew it was bad, but a little manipulation might increase his chances of success. And what Gaius didn't know couldn't hurt him...

Merlin shuffled in to the classroom behind the other students, shoulders slumped and robes pulled tightly against the cold. He sat down at his table on his own, sliding his Transfiguration textbook out of his bag and staring at the book in front of him with a confused expression for a moment, before replacing it with his Potions book. He heard a low chuckle from the front of the room, quickly disguised as a cough. Merlin lent his head on his arm as he waited for the lesson to begin.

"Quiet." Snape instructed, glaring at his class. They quickly fell silent. "Hand in your essay when I call your name. Anyone who hasn't written the twelve inches of parchment minimum I specified need not bother-" Ron gulped "— I will expect eighteen inches from these individuals tomorrow... Mr Weasley." The professor sneered nastily at Ron, who was frantically measuring the length of his essay with a ruler and – Merlin suspected from the sour expression – finding it wanting.

When his name was called he stumbled a little on his way down to main desk, placing a hand on the corner to quickly steady his balance before handing Snape his parchment with a tremor in his hand.

"Are you quite alright, Mr Emery?" Snape sneered, sharp and cruel, but Merlin could see that the sarcasm in his tone didn't match the touch of concern in his eyes.

"I'm fine, thanks." Merlin replied quietly, turning around. He could feel Snape's eyes on his back as he called up the next student, and made sure to lean heavily on the table as though needing the support as he climbed back on to his stool. Was he overdoing it?

Merlin followed the instructions on the board carefully, squinting up at them multiple times during each step instead of just getting on with things as he usually did. This, combined with his sluggish movements, meant he was far slower at preparing the potion than usual, for once not steps ahead of his peers.

The opportunity came after he had sprinkled in the willow bark flakes and stirred three times anti-clockwise. He had to wait exactly seven minutes – the time it took for the liquid to darken to a deeper brown – before adding the porcupine quills.

Merlin put his head on the arm as though waiting. He closed his eyes.

***M***

The moment he opened his eyes, the warlock sprung up from his bed. Time was severely limited.

He whispered a quick spell to muffle his footsteps as he half-ran past Gaius, before shutting the door to the physician's quarters quietly and taking off down the corridor. He hid in an alcove when two knights walked past on patrol, and made it two the dungeons in four and a half minutes flat without being spotted by anyone, feeling proud if a little out of breath.

He knew he'd probably be woken up soon, so he didn't have time to anything fancy with the guards. A simple sleeping spell was quick and efficient, and they passed out into their goblets. Anyone who found them would presume they were drunk.

Sneaking further into the dungeons, Merlin found a dark corner close to the entrance just in time.

***HP***

"Mr Emery." A cold voice brought him back to Hogwarts, and he blinked his eyes blearily, as though struggling to focus on the furious professor. "You are alive, then. How disappointing." Snape declared sarcastically, earning a few snickers from the Slytherins. "There are twenty cauldrons in my office waiting to be cleaned without magic – you can take your own along, as you have ruined today's assignment."

His ruined potion was emitting a rather unsavoury odour – he was surprised nobody had tried to wake him earlier. "Y-yes sir." Merlin stuttered, quickly packing away his supplies with shaking hands and, cringing under the professor's gaze, picking up his cauldron before walking briskly, head down, through his office door.

There was a single spotlessly clean and polished bronze cauldron sitting by the sink.

With a smile, Merlin filled it with water and began to clean his own cauldron quickly, eyes flashing gold to hurry the process along. There was a large, comfy-looking leather chair behind Snape's desk, and Merlin curled up in it, closing his eyes and transporting himself back instantly. The plan had worked perfectly.

***M***

There were forty or so minutes of the lesson left – he told himself he had thirty five, to be on the safe side.

The first thing to do was to get Dumbledore out of the citadel without attracting attention. There was only one way to do that.

The warlock whispered a spell so that the old man wouldn't wake, followed by an old religion version of the feather-light charm he had developed himself. It had taken some practice, and a couple of accidents ("Merlin, do you happen to know why my paperweight just turned into a feather?" "No idea Gaius, I'm just polishing Arthur's boots!") but he was satisfied with the end result.

He hoisted the old man up over his shoulder – he wasn't quite as light as a feather, but couldn't have weighed more than a small cat – and stuck from the dungeons.

This was the difficult part. He whispered a couple of spells designed to make the caster move unnoticed, but he wasn't sure whether it would work for a servant carrying a high profile prisoner through the empty corridors of the castle in the middle of the night. He stuck to the less patrolled passages, knocked a couple of guards out (quietly and discreetly) with his magic, and by some miracle made it out a seldom used side entrance. If he wasn't carrying an ancient, sleeping wizard he would have allowed himself a short victory dance.

Distracting the guards with the illusion of a mouse scuttling around their feet was almost embarrassingly easy, and he made it out of the gates and into the shadow of the trees in no time.

The dragon was waiting as instructed when he reached the clearing. "Be gentle with him." Merlin warned, "He is old."

He could have sworn the dragon rolled his great golden eyes. Without even dignifying his warning with a reply, Kilgharrah picked the frail body up gently in the mighty talons and flew into the night. He would take him to a group of druids living far away in the mountains who had promised to care for the man. The warlock watched until the dragon was out of sight, hoping he had made the right decision sending Dumbledore to the druids. There hadn't really been any other option. Ideally he would have travelled with him and seen the Professor settled in, but he was still sleeping in Snape's office and there really wasn't time.

Realisation hit like a falling stone and Merlin gasped, turning abruptly and running back towards the citadel. He shouldn't have lingered – he was never going to make it back on time.

He had stuck back through the gates (they fell for the mouse trick again – really, Arthur needed to hire men who didn't start screaming and trying to jump into each others' arms at the sight of a worm tail to guard his city), through the streets and into the castle, before turning down a corridor to see Arthur at the other end.

"Merlin?" He called, confused.

Merlin quickly closed his eyes before continuing to walk up the passage, acting as though he hadn't heard him. He would have walked straight past him, had Arthur not grabbed him arm. "What on earth are you playing at?" The king asked, and Merlin ignored him.

"Merlin!" Arthur shook him roughly and he jumped, eyes flying open.

"I— Arthur, what— why are we in a corridor?" He asked, sounding very confused and a little distressed. "I don't remember— oh goodness, it happened again, didn't it. Last time I didn't get further than the doorway, but I suppose Gaius didn't wake up this time to stop me from wandering off – apparently I knocked over a broom..." He trailed off, tone thick with dread and embarrassment.

"Merlin," Arthur asked incredulously "Do you sleep walk?"

The warlock paused for effect. "Only occasionally." He admittedly eventually, doing his best to look mortified.

Arthur's laughter echoed down the corridor.

Merlin yawned theatrically. "Well, I'm really very tired, so I'll just be heading back..."

The king nodded and gave him a push in the right direction, still chuckling under his breath.

***HP***

Merlin woke up to find (for the how many-th time?) Snape's long nose peering down at him.

"Ah." He sat uncurled himself from the foetal position, sitting up straight in Snape's chair. "Good afternoon, Sir."

The professor's expression remained unchanged and the warlock withered, looking down at his hands and fiddling self consciously with his fingers.

"Are you feeling refreshed?" Snape asked, in his usual cold, sarcastic tone, and Merlin glanced up, trying to judge from the professor's expression whether it would be better to or not to nod. Deciding on the former, he nodded slowly.

The older wizard sighed, turning to the sink and picking up a dirty cauldron. "I need you to wash this. With water and soap – no wands."

"Erm, okay." Merlin replied, hopping up from the chair, before remembering he was supposed to be acting tired and walking to the sink at a slower pace. Snape thankfully hadn't noticed. The professor hesitated. "I need a memory of it, just in case."

The warlock didn't ask why, and Snape didn't offer any further explanation, but Merlin filled in the blanks in his head. He'd been asking Hermione questions about the current situation whenever possible – she had taken to educating him with poorly concealed glee. Merlin thought Hermione would find life as a teacher very fulfilling, with her love of imparting knowledge onto those around her, although from what she had told him that didn't sound as though it was where her career plans were headed. Regardless, he now knew all about the first wizarding war, Harry Potter, and the second rise of Voldemort.

And that knowledge, combined with the conversation he had overheard between Dumbledore and Snape when he first arrived in Hogwarts made him suspicious.

So, naturally, he had used his magic to inconspicuously investigate and yes, Snape did have a dark mark concealed under layers of clothing on his left arm.

Dinner at Hogwarts was delicious as usual. Ron was picking at Merlin for the horrific details of his detention with Snape, which was rather annoying; the warlock couldn't exactly tell him what had really happened in case word got out, but he didn't want to make up unkind lies about his teacher when Snape had been so easy on him. Luckily, Luna had appeared at his shoulder and asked if he wanted to join her at the Ravenclaw table, and, ignoring the raised eyebrows of his Gryffindor companions, Merlin had quickly accepted.

The Ravenclaw table was significantly calmer than the Gryffindor one, if you discounted the group of seventh years having a debate over some sort of spell theory to their left. The group of fifth years that Luna walked over to shuffled to make room for the pair but didn't attempt to engage either of them in conversation – they all had their heads in books.

"We have a Herbology test tomorrow." Luna explained.

Merlin frowned. "Should you be revising too?"

His friend just smiled, peering other the shoulder of the girl sitting next to her. "I'd look at Chinese Chomping Cabbages, if I were you." Luna told her seriously. "Do you know how to draw one?"

The girl scowled and sighed. "Don't be ridiculous, that's not going to come up." She angled her book away but Luna's friendly smile didn't fade, although Merlin thought he caught a glimmer of sadness in her eyes.

He reached forward to help himself to some potatoes, frowning at the sight of Luna's empty plate.

"I'm waiting for desert." She explained, and he rolled his eyes.

"That's not healthy at all. Here." He put a couple of roast potatoes on her plate, followed by a spoonful of vegetables. "Eat that, at least."

Merlin was worried for a moment that he might have annoyed Luna, but the girl turned to him with an unreadable expression, picking up her fork. They ate a few mouthfuls in companionable silence before she spoke.

"Mercury," She pronounced the name oddly, as thought the word felt wrong in her mouth. "I was wondering, what is the unicorn's name?"

He paused. "How do you know about that?"

Luna considered her answer for a moment. "She felt like you."

The warlock almost smiled. There had been enough signs, but this was a definite confirmation of Luna's connection to the old religion. The more time he spent with her, the more he sensed it – the familiar, elemental feel to her magic.

"Eiddwen." He told her with a gentle upturn of the lips. "She came to you?"

Luna nodded. "I was visiting the threstrals."

"I haven't had the pleasure of encountering those yet." The warlock admitted, and Luna looked thrilled.

"I'd love to introduce you." His friend enthused, "They really are beautiful creatures; very gentle."

Merlin couldn't help but grin at the girl's enthusiasm. Her excitement was infectious.

"I'd be honoured." He told her grandly.

Desert had arrived and Merlin was tucking in to a thick slice of chocolate cake (Luna only had one piece this time) when a scene in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

A small Gryffindor – perhaps a second year – had walked up to his friends in the red house and presented Harry with a small roll of parchment, which Harry had scanned before hurriedly stuffing it into his robe pocket. The warlock watched as his friend leant forward to whisper to Ron and Hermione. Ron looked a little annoyed; Hermione looked excited.

Harry was missing from the common room that evening, and both Hermione and Ron had acted very suspiciously when he asked them why, neither able to give a straight answer. Merlin decided this was probably something he should investigate, so after a couple of games of an unfamiliar and rather violent game named chess with Ron, who was a very good player but not a very good teacher, Merlin retreated to their dorm, pretending to feel tired. After the little scene in Potions, neither doubted it.

The warlock sat cross legged on his dorm bed, curtains drawn.

He closed his eyes and concentrated, searching the castle for Harry's semi-familiar presence. If this were Arthur he would have managed it in a second, but Harry took a little more effort. It didn't help that the castle was full of magical teenage wizards – indentifying his magical core was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

He found it eventually, and to his surprise, it was accompanied by Dumbledore's. Apparently, the two were engaged in some sort of secret meeting.

Merlin wondered if the headmaster was teaching him some sort of skill. He could only presume this had something to do with the war with Voldemort, in which Harry obviously had a key part to play. In any case, both were safe and there was no need to worry.

***M***

"One more thing, Merlin." Arthur had instructed, stiffly, once the evening candles had been lit and the manservant was hovering by the door, angling for a dismissal. He wanted to get back to Hogwarts early, if possible.

"I need you to prepare two overnight packs for tomorrow, for Elyan and Guinevere. You can collect the food from the kitchens and prepare the horses in the morning before you serve breakfast."

The manservant bowed and quickly made his departure.

Gathering the supplies they would need didn't take long – a tent, mats, blankets and cooking utensils were soon stuffed into two saddle-bags, ready for the following day. Merlin carried them to Gaius' chambers and dumped them in the corner of the main room so that he didn't have to walk halfway across the castle to pick them up the following morning.

A/N – Sorry I haven't updated for a while :( thank you so much for your reviews, they're very encouraging. For those who have asked – yes, I do plan to finish this story, and I promise I will, though it may take a while :P I've already written the ending and it would be very sad if I never got to post it, so hopefully that will keep me motivated. Love you all.