He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Horace couldn't shake the sinking suspicion that something was wrong. He and Leonide had spent the afternoon exploring Demagie, ducking in and out of shops and marveling at the statuary, while Leonide lectured him about the town's history. Despite the fun they were having, he couldn't help but notice that no one seemed to acknowledge their presence. He had assumed that Leonide would have friends in the village who would know him and want to see him upon his return from abroad; however, it didn't seem to faze him that people often whispered and pointed when he and Horace walked by. Horace knew better than to bring it up.

 

They were on their way home, having gotten ice creams, when Leonide spoke up. "What do you think of my mother?"

 

"Hrm?" Horace wiped pineapple ice cream off his nose and looked at him. "What do you mean?"

 

"I mean," Leonide took a bite of his chocolate, "Do you like her?"

 

"She's all right, I suppose. We've not had much chance to talk, though, have we?"

 

"She's very nice, you'll see," said Leonide. "I think you and she will get along perfectly."

 

Horace simply nodded.

 

"She's a good cook," Leonide added. "That ought to make you like her."

 

Horace paused. He had a point there. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I just…"

 

Suddenly, a voice calling from behind them made them turn around.

 

"Leonide! Leonide, is that you?"

 

Horace was surprised to hear anyone speaking English in Demagie, besides the two of them.

 

"Garrick!" Leonide cried, suddenly springing forward and shaking the other man's hand enthusiastically. "Oh, Garrick, it's so good to see you!"

 

The man called Garrick grinned. He was rather older than Horace and Leonide, with a shock of thinning light brown hair, broad shoulders and a friendly smile. "Who's your friend?" he asked.

 

It had become apparent that Garrick was an American. Horace regarded him curiously. He'd never met an American before, and the accent took him quite by surprise.

 

"This is Horace Slughorn," said Leonide, grinning as Horace and Garrick shook hands. "One of my colleagues from Hogwarts. He teaches Potions. Horace, this is an old friend, Garrick Wagner. He works up at the Tomb."

 

Garrick placed a hand on Leonide's shoulder. "I take credit for this. Got you into Runes, didn't I? And now look at him! How many books was it?"

 

Leonide flushed. "Three," he murmured. "With a fourth on the way."

 

Horace grinned, his confidence swelling. "He's quite a mind, our Leonide," he said proudly.

 

Leonide looked as if he'd like nothing more than to sink into the street.

 

"So," said Garrick, turning to Horace. "You're a Hogwarts man, are you?"

 

Horace beamed. "That I am. Slytherin to the bone."

 

Leonide smiled, eager to deflect the conversation away from himself. "Horace is Potions Master at Hogwarts. He's quite the brewer. The students simply adore him."

 

"Oh?" Garrick looked interested. "We might need someone with a hand for potions. Leonide, we found some interesting stelae the other day. It looks like it's about primitive potions. Would you two be interested in coming up and taking a look?" The corners of his mouth kept twitching into an uncontrollable grin; his eyes had the look of a child at Christmas.

 

"Oh, we would!" said Leonide excitedly. "I haven't been home in ages. It would be so nice to go over to the Tomb."

 

The prospect of looking at a bunch of old stelae wasn't immediately interesting to Horace, but he supposed he could try. After all, it was something Leonide would want him to try. And he did, very much, want to try something Leonide was interested in. It was the least he could do for all Leonide had put up with for him, the long nights when Horace was at some party or another, and Horace's self-admitted lack of tact in certain situations.

 

"Sounds like a plan," said Horace, hoping he wouldn't regret it.

 

**

 

Leonide had certainly been right about his mother's cooking, Horace thought, as he dug into what was supposed to be bangers and mash. It hadn't turned out exactly right (there were skins in the potatoes, and the gravy tasted a bit foreign) but it was still good enough for him to have three helpings.

 

"You two must tell me everything about Hogwarts," Mme. Allard, who had insisted Horace call her Collette, exclaimed. Horace had been content to let the conversation consist mostly of Leonide's impressions of Demagie after a couple of years away. Now here was a part of the conversation he could participate in!

 

"It's cold," Leonide was saying thoughtfully. "I never would have thought it would be cold, before I went." He smiled. "We had to use lots of blankets, lots more than I was used to."

 

Horace smiled indulgently. He remembered Leonide in the winter, throwing extra blankets onto the bed, and hogging them once he put them there.

 

Mme. Allard put some more gravy on his plate. "But you had Horace to warm you up," she said with a small smirk.

 

Horace choked on a hunk of sausage. "W-well," he stammered. "Not really, I don't think. I'm sure... I'm sure he was fine on his own."

 

Leonide looked at him quizzically. He instantly regretted what he had said. He certainly hoped Leonide wouldn't be cross with him.

 

"It's rather warm here," he continued nervously. "Bet you don't get much snow."

 

Leonide sniffed. "No, we don't." Then, his features softened. "I did like the snow," he added. "I did like the snow."

 

**

 

As they were getting ready for bed that night, Horace once again considered that Leonide's mother might not be as truly comfortable with them as she let on. After all, that conversation at dinner had been their most awkward interaction yet.

 

"You're being ridiculous," Leonide said, when Horace had confessed these fears. "Can't you just let it go?"

 

Horace pretended to be examining his nose in the mirror. In reality, he was examining his moustache, which was making pitiful progress. He'd been working as hard as he could at it (this was his second day not shaving there), but Leonide hadn't even noticed it yet! "I'm trying," he said finally, unsure as to which he was referring.

 

Leonide sighed and began undoing his robes. "Well, at least you seemed to like Garrick, which I'm glad for. Garrick is my oldest friend." He folded his robes neatly and dropped them into the hamper.

 

Horace blinked at him in surprise and tossed his shirt on the floor. "He's your oldest friend?"

 

Leonide pulled his nightshirt on over his head and said, "Yes, Horace, he is." He knelt and picked up Horace's shirt, which he tossed into the hamper, too.

 

Horace came over and put his arms around Leonide. "Then I'm very much looking forward to meeting him properly," he murmured.

 

Leonide smiled and kissed Horace on the jaw.

 

"I'm sure we'll have fun. I had no idea you'd be interested in old stelae!"

 

"Oh, I'm sure I am!" said Horace, with conviction. "I haven't much experience with them, but if you like them… why not?" He undid his trousers and, without prompting from Leonide, tossed them into the hamper.

 

**

 

That night, Horace couldn't sleep. He didn't want to shift a lot, so as not to awaken Leonide. They were lying close together, but Horace wasn't sure if this was because the bed was small or if Leonide really wanted to be held. He still had the distinct feeling that Leonide was cross with him. He propped himself up on his arm and watched him sleep for a few minutes. He loved watching Leonide sleep.

 

Leonide...

 

He knew in his heart he ought to be nicer to Leonide's mother, but it was so hard. It was difficult for him to get used to the idea that she didn't mind them. On one level, he recognized that he ought to be glad that Leonide had someone he could trust. But on another, some part of him couldn't help but be a little bit suspicious.

 

Briefly, he envisioned telling his own mother about Leonide. He winced. She'd probably throw him out on his ear. Not that he didn't want to tell her. He wished he could tell everyone!

 

He placed his hand lightly on Leonide's waist. Leonide stirred and murmured something inaudible, but did not wake.

 

Horace smiled fondly. Leonide was so beautiful. It felt odd thinking it, but nothing else seemed to fit. He sighed. He had often felt very odd lately.

 

The past seven months with Leonide had been the happiest time of his life. He had always felt a little lonely, and Leonide's implicit revelation that he had had difficulties making friends as a youth had strengthened his feelings toward the other man, even if Leonide seemed uncomfortable talking about it. Horace desperately wished he could think of some way to show Leonide how he felt.

 

He felt a tightness in his chest. He didn't want Leonide to leave; he thought of that every day now. He swallowed. He was reasonably sure that what he was feeling was love. He knew he didn't want Leonide to leave, and he knew he wanted nothing more than for Leonide to be happy. Thankfully, he had reason to suspect Leonide was happy being with him. But was it love? How would he know? Horace knew for certain that he had never been in love before, but he also knew for certain that he had never experienced such strong feelings before. He wished there was someone he could trust to talk to, but there was no one he trusted more than…

 

"Oh, Leonide," he whispered, blinking furiously, trying desperately not to cry.

 

"Mm?" said Leonide blearily. "Whazzwrong?"

 

"Nothing," said Horace, feeling somewhat embarrassed. He kissed Leonide gently on the temple; Leonide smiled contentedly.

 

"Hold me?" he asked, snuggling closer to Horace.

 

"Of course," said Horace, drawing him closer. Leonide looped his arms around Horace's waist and nuzzled at his neck.

 

"I love," he began, and Horace felt his stomach constrict, "moments like this."

 

Horace stroked Leonide's hair, and after a few moments, he dropped happily back off to sleep. Horace stayed up considerably later, finally letting his eyes droop just before sunrise. The entire time he lay awake, he was rehearsing three simple words.

 

**

 

Not having had much sleep would take a toll on him that day, Horace knew. Leonide most likely attributed his silence at breakfast to nerves, or lack of sleep, he wasn't sure which. One thing for sure, Horace was happy to get out of the house and into the warm sunshine of the late spring day.

 

Leonide seemed extremely excited to be introducing Horace to his childhood home, and his high spirits soon lifted Horace out of his foul mood, as, he reasoned, Leonide couldn't really be cross with him, or else he wouldn't be acting so happy-go-lucky.

 

"I'm very pleased you're taking an interest in the Tomb," Leonide was saying, as they walked up the high street. "I honestly didn't think you'd be interested. I thought you were just humoring me."

 

Thinking it would be uncharitable to let Leonide know he had in fact just been humoring him, Horace merely smiled and said, "I've always been interested in Ancient Runes, you know that!"

 

"Yes, but do really know anything about the Tomb?"

 

Horace opened and closed his mouth, trying to collect his thoughts. "No," he said finally.

 

Leonide smiled. The explaining-things glint was back in his eyes. "You do know the story of Merlin, don't you?"

 

Horace closed his eyes, trying to remember the last time he'd gotten a Merlin card with a Chocolate Frog. "Of course I know the story of Merlin!" he finally said. "Everyone does. He was King Arthur's mentor… he did wonderful things to advance the cause of Muggle rights!" (Horace remembered there being something like that on the frog card.) "But wasn't King Arthur a Muggle?" he asked.

 

"He was," said Leonide. "That was Merlin's intention. He wanted there to be a close relationship between the magical and Muggle worlds. Or, at least, he dreamed of that as the ultimate future." He paused. "I don't think either society was ready for it, they probably still aren't, but…" He trailed off.           

 

"But what about the town? Why did he found an all-magic town if he wanted to have relations with the Muggles?" Horace suddenly found that he was genuinely curious.

 

"That's what I was getting at," Leonide explained. "Merlin did want a close relationship between the two worlds—when the Muggles were ready for it. He was instrumental in the separation of the magical and Muggle worlds, he didn't believe that it was good for Muggles to know about wizards until they were 'ready.'"

 

"But what about the Statute of Secrecy? That wasn't passed until ages later."

 

"That was because lots of people back then didn't necessarily agree with Merlin. Horace, Muggle-hunting was still legal. Everything was still legal. Merlin was instrumental in planting the seeds of modern wizarding government, just as he was instrumental in planting the seeds of modern Muggle British government.

 

"Muggles back then, King Arthur's court included, were highly superstitious. It wasn't hard for Merlin to ingratiate himself among them and have them take him for a wizard. He appealed to their notions of what a wizard should look like, and it was easy for him to use their beliefs to get what he wanted, which was a stable system of government for the Muggles. He wanted to prove to wizards that the two societies could live separately."

 

Horace had to interrupt. "But if he was so concerned about keeping apart--?"

 

"He felt he needed to give them a 'nudge in the right direction,' so to speak. He intended to leave them to their own devices once he'd got them on their way, as he did."

 

"But isn't that unfair?"

 

"No more unfair than what Salazar Slytherin wanted to do." He watched Horace's sharp intake of breath, and then continued. "It was a different time, Horace. Lots of wizards, particularly in Britain, don't believe Muggle/wizard relations really deteriorated until the rise of Christianity precipitated persecution of anyone who seemed suspicious. What they don't realize was that on the continent, wizards like Merlin advocated seclusion from Muggles because they didn't want to be subjected to their requests for miracle cures and other such things. Like it or not, Horace, the Muggles outnumber us and if they really wanted something from us, they could take it, even back then. Merlin's opponents advocated taking hostile action against the Muggles, while all Merlin wanted to do was to separate from them."

 

"But if he was here, how did he wind up in Britain?"

 

"He eventually left because the people around him didn't agree with him. They weren't ready for his ideas, apparently. There's a reason Merlin is far more well-respected in Britain than he was elsewhere. He was basically run off the continent and sent off to live with the Muggles and the barbarians." Leonide chuckled at Horace's expression. "He essentially created the dual societies we know today in Britain himself. It took the rest of the world far longer to see the light and follow Merlin's lead, but Demagie and the surrounding area has always considered ourselves to be Merlin's territory."

 

Horace shook his head. "I didn't know it was all that old."

 

"Well, it's really not," said Leonide helpfully. "It was far from complete. There was no education system in place, here or in Britain—even Beauxbatons is younger than Hogwarts. All Merlin really wanted to do was show that Muggles could get by all right without wizards—though they had him, of course, so the point is fairly moot. The time period remembered as Camelot is one of the rare light points in the Muggle Dark Ages, and it was all one wizard's laboratory experiment. Unfair by our modern standards, yes, but not to him."

 

Horace frowned thoughtfully. It was actually interesting. "So, when he died, he was buried here?"

 

"Ah!" Leonide's eyes lit up; this was clearly the part of the story he liked best. "He isn't dead! At least, that's not how the story goes. You have to realize that we know very little of Merlin's life to be absolute fact—basically, everything I've just told you is the only thing really acknowledged by most wizarding historians. Everything else is pure legend. And the legend says he isn't dead."

 

"But he's got a tomb!" sputtered Horace. "How can you have a tomb and not be dead?"

 

Leonide smirked. "He's asleep. He's waiting. It's said that Merlin will awaken when the Muggle and wizarding worlds unite once more. Of course, he must have meant more unity than we have now; the heads of states of most members of the Muggle League of Nations have made contact with their respective magical governments." He sighed and twisted some of his hair around his finger. "I'd like to think it will happen one day."

 

Horace wasn't sure what to say to that. He and Leonide had never discussed politics; he had never given much thought to Muggle relations himself, and up until now, he hadn't thought Leonide had, either.

 

Horace hadn't been paying much attention to where they had been walking, so engrossed was he in Leonide's story. They were suddenly interrupted by a shout from about fifty yards ahead.

 

"There you are!" cried Garrick, striding down the hill toward them. "I was wondering what you were getting up to. I was about to send a search party."

 

Leonide grinned. "No, we're here as promised."

 

Garrick merrily clapped him on the back. "Well, come on! We've got a lot of work to do, or at least you have. I've been staring at these damn things for weeks and I can't make heads or tails of 'em. Thought maybe I'd give you a shot now that I've got you all up here." Garrick was now leading them back up the hill. It was quite a steep hill, and the path was just a trail where some of the fallen leaves had been cleared away by walking feet.

 

Leonide quickened his pace, a look of anticipation on his face. Horace smiled inwardly, glad to see him so excited.

 

The path began to wind precariously as it snaked up the hill and Horace quite lost track of it at some points; there were stretches were they were simply walking right through knee-high piles of leaves. Horace got the distinct impression that if he hadn't been with someone who knew the way, he would have gotten hopelessly lost.

 

He was beginning to get winded after the long climb, and was relieved to see the path snake once more around an enormous cluster of boulders revealing a cluster of shabby-looking wooden buildings.

 

"Here's our research station," said Garrick by way of introduction. He led them over to the largest of the cabins, released the wards with a quick, complicated series of motions with his wand and opened the door. "Home sweet home."

 

He flicked his wand one more time and an overhead light came on, revealing a workroom with four long tables arranged in a square. The shades on the dusty windows were spelled down. No outside light entered the cabin after Garrick shut the door and reapplied the wards.

 

Wondering what all the security was about, Horace turned his attention to the contents of the room. Three of the tables were loaded with books, scrolls and pottery shards, while the fourth was covered with a drop cloth.

 

"Only Arnie and I know about this for now," said Garrick, gathering the edge of the cloth in his hands. "And now you two…" He paused. "Leonide, I'm… I'm glad I'm getting to show these to you."

 

Leonide smiled, clearly touched. "Whatever you've found, Garrick, I want to see it. And if you think I—we—can help you, I'm sure we will."

 

What Horace thought he had mistaken for hesitation clouding Garrick's face was instantly replaced by a grin of anticipation—he clearly had a natural gift for showmanship. "I always believed it was out there," he said. "I nearly lost my curatorship for it."

 

Leonide gasped. "C'est impossible…"

 

"But it's real. I found it. It's here." Garrick whipped the drop cloth off the table. Two enormous stone stelae lay in front of them, covered with carvings. Each stela was divided into thirty or forty boxes. The inside border of each box was composed of pictures of various plants and animals. Runes were written in vertical lines in each box's center.

 

Leonide seemed at a lost for words. "It's not… it can't be…"

 

"Oh, but it is, old friend! It is." Garrick was grinning.

 

Leonide reverently crossed the room and touched it lightly. "The Liber Atavus," he whispered.

 

"The what?" asked Horace.

 

Both Leonide and Garrick looked at him as if he had three heads. Leonide still had the awed expression on his face; he didn't even pause to admonish Horace for not knowing anything.

 

"What is it?" he asked again in a smaller voice.

 

"The Liber Atavus," Leonide repeated. "Horace, this is Merlin's personal Potions manual."