Ch488- Honest
“What do you mean we don’t have a plan?” Hermione frowned at him, arms folding across her chest.
Harry chuckled at her reaction. “Exactly that. We don’t have a plan. We’ve got too many moving pieces for a single neat strategy. If we try to script it, it’ll fall apart the first time someone sneezes at the wrong moment.”
Tracey, still sprawled sideways in her chair, gave a lazy wave with her biscuit. “Brilliant. Our great leader admits he’s winging it.”
Harry shot her a look. “Winged it through a maze with a Manticore. Worked fine, didn’t it?”
That drew a few laughs, but Hermione didn’t relax. “Harry, this isn’t a Quidditch match. You can’t just improvise your way through a war.”
“Who says I’m improvising?” Harry said, straightening. “I’ve spent the all my life pulling threads together. It’s not about memorising a script, it’s about knowing the players. That’s where we win.”
Neville shifted on the arm of the sofa. “What did you learn?”
Harry nodded. “Right. First piece, Nicholas Flamel. Or as he’d prefer you to remember him, Merlin.”
The room went dead silent. Blaise actually stopped mid-sip of his drink and stared.
“Merlin?” Fred said finally. “As in the beardy bloke every magical swears by when they stub a toe?”
George chimed in. “The one with the chocolate frog card?”
Harry grinned. “That’s the one. Nicholas has been wearing masks for centuries. Merlin was just one of them."
Hermione’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “That... no, that can’t—”
“Oh, it can,” Harry cut in, clearly enjoying the disbelief. “I’ve seen enough to know it’s true. He didn’t just live through history, he wrote himself into it. When people think of magic itself, they think of Merlin. That’s how deep his game goes.”
Pansy leaned forward, eyes sharp. “And Flamel’s just been wandering about for centuries, brewing potions and pretending he’s harmless?”
“Exactly,” Harry said. “Except harmless isn’t the word I’d use. Nicholas has more layers than Gringotts.”
Susan frowned. “Wow.”
“And here’s the part that’s going to rattle you more. “Perenelle?” Harry paused, grin widening. “Morgana.”
The noise that followed was anything but quiet. Ginny nearly choked on her tea. Hermione made a sound like she’d swallowed her own notes. Hannah muttered, “Bloody hell,” under her breath.
Astoria raised her hand slightly as if she were in class. “Wait. That Morgana? As in Morgana Le Fay?”
“The very same,” Harry said smoothly. “Nicholas, Merlin and Perenelle, Morgana. Lovely couple, really. Still together after more than a thousand years. Try beating that for relationship goals.”
Tracey dropped her biscuit onto her saucer. “We’re sitting around planning a fight, and you’re casually announcing that two of the biggest names in magical legend are married and alive?”
Harry shrugged. “Thought you’d like some colour in your evening.”
Hermione was rubbing her temple now. “You’re telling me we’ve been quoting Merlin and Morgana in magical theory essays, citing them as history, and they’ve been alive this whole time?”
“Exactly,” Harry said. “And before you ask, no, they weren’t saints. Legends never are. Nicholas has spent centuries pulling strings. Morgana’s been quieter, but don’t think for a second she’s just been sipping tea and knitting scarves. Both of them have long games we’re only brushing against. But they aren't outright evil either.”
The room stayed hushed for a beat. Then Neville asked, “Please tell me this is all?”
Harry’s grin sharpened. “Not even close. You know how Dumby always been a step ahead, always has that twinkle like he’s hiding something? Well, he was. Quite a lot, actually. Because the Dumbledore you all know—” Harry paused, letting them lean closer “—isn’t alone in that body.”
“Not alone?” Susan repeated.
Harry nodded. “Two people. One body. Dumbledore and Grindelwald. Both crammed into the same shell, taking turns at the wheel.”
The outburst was instant. Draco sat forward, swearing under his breath. Ginny’s eyes went wide. Cho nearly dropped her cup into Cedric’s lap.
“That’s impossible,” Hermione said quickly, but her tone betrayed doubt.
“Impossible?” Harry echoed, tilting his head. “We’ve all seen a ghost talk to us, portraits holding memories of the dead, a Diary that held a soul. And you’re drawing the line at two wizards sharing a body?”
Hermione’s cheeks coloured, but she didn’t argue.
Pansy gave a short laugh. “Explains a lot. Half the time Dumbledore acted like he was playing chess with sweets, the other half he had the look of someone ready to burn the world.”
“Exactly,” Harry said. “That wasn’t mood swings. That was who happened to be in charge.”
Fred leaned back, exchanging a look with George. “Merlin’s alive.”
“Morgana’s alive.”
“And Dumbledore’s a two-for-one.”
“Not bad for a week of research,” Harry said, deadpan.
Tracey shook her head in disbelief. “So what, you’ve been running about chatting up Merlin and playing tea with Grindelwald in disguise?”
Harry smirked. “Something like that.”
Daphne sighed for a solid minute before saying, “And what does this mean for us? You wouldn’t be telling us all this unless it mattered.”
Harry’s smile eased into something sharper. “It means the board’s bigger than we thought. Voldemort is not even a pawn at this point. Merlin, Morgana, Dumbledore, Grindelwald, they’ve all got their own angles. We’re not following a single plan because theirs don’t line up. Our edge is that we don’t have to play by their rules.”
Neville gave a short nod. “So instead of one plan, we’re the spanner in everyone else’s works.”
“Exactly,” Harry said. “Let them try to out-think each other. We’ll slip through the cracks and land the hits that matter.”
Hermione sighed, though there was less fight in her voice now. “That’s… reckless.”
“Effective,” Harry corrected. “And more fun.”
That earned another ripple of laughter, the tension breaking just enough.
Luna piped up suddenly, looking entirely pleased. “If Merlin’s alive, does that mean he’ll want his chocolate frog card back? I’d like to keep mine.”
Harry chuckled. “You can keep it. Doubt Nicholas cares much about trading cards.”
“Good,” Luna said serenely. “I like the way he looks a bit cross-eyed on mine.”
The room dissolved into more chatter, everyone throwing out their own shocked remarks, but Harry kept watching them with that same small grin.
The storm was coming, yes, but he had his friends here, sharp, capable, and just mad enough to follow him through it.
And if Merlin, Morgana, Dumbledore, and Grindelwald thought they were the only ones playing at legends, well, they were in for a rude surprise.
Harry let the chatter settle before speaking again. “There is more,” he said, letting the pause hang. “I am a Champion.”
Fred rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You’re the best.”
Harry chuckled. “Not like that.” He waved a hand, and the air beside him rippled. A man appeared, tall, suited like a proper butler, silver hair combed neat, sharp blue eyes taking in the room.
Everyone went still.
Harry grinned. “Meet Nigel.”
Nigel gave a small bow, voice smooth and polite. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”
Hermione half-rose from her seat. “Harry... what is—”
“You always wondered if I was a cheat,” Harry said, tone light but sure. “Truth is, I was.”
Tracey whistled low. “Bloody hell, Potter. You’ve been hiding a butler ghost this whole time?”
“Not a ghost,” Harry corrected with a faint grin. “Something else. He’s been around since I was a kid. Teaching, guiding, nagging.”
“Mostly nagging,” Nigel said evenly.
Daphne leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “And you’ve kept this secret for how long?”
“Long enough,” Harry said simply. “Nigel’s... complicated. Not something you shout about in the Great Hall.”
George pointed at Nigel with a shortbread still in hand. “So you’ve been cheating at everything since first year?”
Harry snorted. “If I was, do you think I’d have bothered nearly dying every term? Nigel doesn’t hand out answers. He… gives me the means. The rest’s on me.”
Nigel inclined his head faintly. “Master Harry understates. He has achieved much without my assistance these past years. I merely... tidy the edges.”
Fred leaned back, muttering, “That’s even worse than a ghost. He’s got a personal cheat sheet in a suit.”
Angelina elbowed him. “Oh, shut it. Half the Quidditch pitch thinks Harry’s been blessed by Lady Luck anyway. This explains more.”
Hermione was still staring, sharp eyes fixed on Nigel. “What exactly are you?”
Nigel’s expression didn’t shift. “I am Nigel. That is sufficient.”
“Evasive,” Hermione snapped.
“Accurate,” Nigel countered.
Harry laughed outright at that. “Don’t bother, Hermione. I’ve been trying to get a straight answer for years. He’s not keen on labels.”
“Convenient,” Blaise drawled, though his eyes stayed sharp.
Harry shrugged. “Call it whatever you like. Cheat, secret weapon, imaginary friend in a suit. He is Magic’s Servant.”
