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Merlin - Chapter 11: A Spell To Remember
🕑 Added 2025-12-05 10:32:56 +0000 UTCDisclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
“Dialogue”
‘Thoughts’
-Author notes-
Chapter 11: A Spell To Remember
It did not take very long before things began to return to normal in the Dursley household.
“Hurry up, boy. Put the bacon on my plate already!” Vernon demanded while pointing at him with his fat finger.
“Yeah! Hurry up, you loser. I’m hungry!” Dudley tried to imitate his father’s gesture. He could not emanate the same intimidating aura, but when it came to having fat fingers, he was already there.
“It’s done, Uncle Vernon.” Harry went to the table and placed a dozen slices of fatty meat on the plate between the two.
He then went back to the sink and was called by his aunt.
“Leave that for later. Go outside and start removing the weeds. They have been growing quickly as of late,” Petunia said.
“Yes, Aunt Petunia.” Harry obeyed without complaint.
He foolishly thought that after getting his new bedroom, something had changed with his aunt and uncle, and it did for a bit, but now their treatment was returning to what it was before.
Harry could tell that something had happened a month ago that had left them scared. He saw them muttering to themselves while throwing glances at him.
They refused to give him any explanations, and Harry knew what would happen if he dared to ask.
One night, they were in their bedroom talking a bit too loudly, and Harry was able to pick up a few words through the walls. He heard the name Albus Dumbledore again.
There was something about that name that felt familiar to Harry, but he could not quite place it.
It was very unpleasant, like a word at the tip of his tongue that he could not say.
At the very least, they never took away his bedroom, so this was something he should feel grateful for, as it was a massive improvement in his quality of life.
But for some reason, Harry wanted more. There was something deep inside him telling him he was meant for more than this… that he was meant to accomplish grand things and not just do chores for this family of ungrateful individuals.
He passed by the garage to grab a pair of gloves and a trash bag before walking into the garden so he could get started removing weeds.
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“Ufff!” Mist formed from his breath. It was early in the morning and extremely cold during this time.
Unfortunately, he was already wearing his warmest winter clothes, and he was not going to get any more than this, so he got to work.
While he was doing his chores, his mind was always working on something else.
After that terrible nightmare where Merlin was betrayed by King Arthur and killed, he had not experienced any more dreams.
He truly missed his dreams. They were the only escape he had from his dull life, and now they were gone forever.
It was a strange feeling, but deep down, Harry knew that he was never going to dream about Camelot again.
However, in the same way, Harry had become aware that those were more than just dreams, and that nagging voice telling him to remember was still there, at the back of his mind, repeating the same message over and over.
As much as Harry wanted to do that, it was kinda difficult since he didn’t know what he had to remember.
He called it a problem with no solution.
“Tsk, ouch!” Harry got a bit too distracted and grabbed one of the weeds in the wrong spot.
Some of these weeds had small spikes, and if one was not careful when touching them, they would easily dig into one's skin.
He saw a small bloodstain appearing on the index finger of his thin working gloves.
This was hardly the first time it happened to him. He was more than used to seeing his own blood, but something called his attention this time.
As he stared at the small bloodstain on his glove, something occurred to Harry.
“Blood… right!” His mind got to work and followed his train of thought, finding what he was looking for.
‘A spell to recall forgotten things…’ It was something written in one of the many books at Merlin’s tower.
A sorcery capable of opening one’s mind and allowing that person to remember old, forgotten memories. It was a simple spell meant for people who had lost something and were trying to get it back.
The spell involved the person’s blood, among a few other simple ingredients.
Harry could now recall the chant of the spell perfectly, as well as the things he needed to perform it.
‘Wait… what am I thinking about? That’s crazy.’ Harry thought.
Was he really going to attempt some spell from a book that only existed inside his dreams?
If his uncle and aunt could hear what he was thinking, he would be punished immediately.
‘Besides, magic is not real… right?’ Harry wanted to say that he was sure of that.
It was one of the lessons that his aunt and uncle tried very hard to teach him. The mere mention of the word ‘magic’ would drive them crazy.
But then again, that nagging voice kept telling him to remember, and right now, this was the only method he could think of.
‘What do I really have to lose by trying?’ Harry considered it for a moment.
At worst, he was getting a beating if they found out. But all he had to do was wait for them to leave.
And Harry already knew the perfect occasion for this.
Next month was going to be his aunt Petunia’s birthday, and they always went out to celebrate at a restaurant.
Of course, they wouldn’t bring Harry along and would likely try to leave him at Mrs. Figg’s, the boring cat lady.
‘That will be my chance. All I have to do during this month is to collect a few of the ingredients I need and hide them in my room.’ Harry knew it was likely a dumb idea, but he was very excited by the prospect of performing ‘magic’.
