Merlin served himself a large piece of steak and started eating gleefully. The journey had left him tired and hungry, and a sandwich and a single Chocolate Frog were certainly not enough to quell his appetite.
Lee Jordan, sitting opposite him, was gnawing on a chicken leg with each hand, looking quite comical.
Around them, the hall buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the clatter of cutlery. Plates refilled themselves as quickly as they were emptied.
Then suddenly, a faint chill crept through the air—subtle at first, then noticeable enough that Merlin paused mid-bite. A few students shivered. Others looked around, confused.
And then they appeared.
Ghosts drifted into the Great Hall from all directions—some rising through the floor, others gliding through walls. Their pale, translucent forms shimmered faintly in the candlelight, like reflections on water.
The hall erupted into whispers and startled exclamations.
One ghost in particular floated toward the Gryffindor table—a man dressed in old-fashioned noble attire.
Merlin recognized him immediately. Nearly Headless Nick, Gryffindor's ghost in canon.
He swallowed his bite and greeted him. "Hello, Mr. Ghost."
"I think," he said with measured dignity, "I would prefer you call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, child."
Merlin didn't even blink before obliging "Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington."
He paused, then added, "May I ask a question?"
The ghost inclined his head. "Ask away."
Merlin set his fork down, giving the matter his full attention. "What are ghosts? Are you… souls after death?"
Nick turned toward him, surprise flickering across his ethereal face.
"That," he said slowly, "is a very thoughtful question. Makes me wonder if the Sorting Hat placed you in the wrong house."
A few nearby students leaned in, listening.
"To answer you," Nick continued, "no. We are not souls. Not truly. When a witch or wizard dies, their soul… moves on. Where to, I do not know. I never went there."
He paused for just a moment, a mix of hesitation and regret flickering in his eyes.
"A ghost," he went on, "is what remains when someone is… unwilling to leave. When fear takes hold at the final moment. Fear of what lies beyond. Fear of letting go."
"I chose to remain," he admitted quietly. "Out of fear. Or perhaps foolish hope." He looked back at Merlin. "What you see before you is not my true self. It is an imprint—a shadow of who I once was."
Merlin absorbed that, his expression thoughtful.
"So it's a choice?" he asked.
Nick hesitated again before answering. "Yes, But not one made with clarity. Death comes in an instant. Fear is faster. Most who choose to remain in the world of the living regret it, in time."
His gaze drifted toward the candlelit ceiling.
"Still," Nick added after a moment, "regret is easier to bear than the unknown."
Merlin considered that. Then, almost absentmindedly, he said, "I think I'd rather face the unknown than live as a shadow."
Nick looked at him—really looked this time.
"A very Gryffindor thing to say," he murmured.
His expression shifted again, growing more serious.
"But take this as a warning, child. Knowledge of the soul is… not a subject taken lightly in the wizarding world. It is considered taboo. History is filled with those who sought it—and paid dearly for their curiosity."
His tone sharpened just a fraction. "Be careful what questions you ask. Not all ghosts are as patient as I am."
"I will, sir" Merlin said.
Nick gave a small, courteous bow—and then sank down through the table, vanishing as quietly as he had appeared.
The cold lingered for a second longer before fading.
Merlin picked up his fork again.
Despite his words, the ghost's parting warning barely stayed in his mind for more than a moment. In his opinion, knowledge didn't have a moral alignment. It wasn't dark or light—it simply was. What mattered was how it was used.
To unearth the secrets of his current state, studying souls—or more precisely, the peculiarities of his own soul—was the only lead he could think of. So not digging deep into it wasn't an option.
When he snapped out of his thoughts, he realized everyone was staring at him.
"…What?" he asked, puzzled.
"Why are you curious about ghosts?" Lee asked.
Merlin shrugged. "In the Muggle world, ghosts don't exist. Now that I've seen one, it's only natural to be curious. Oh, and passing through a ghost feels very cold, so it's best to be careful in the future."
He had secretly poked Nicholas with his finger just now and found it icy. Passing through them was probably like being doused with ice water.
That would definitely not be a pleasant experience in winter.
A girl sitting a couple of seats away spoke up. "He's right. There's nothing like that in the Muggle world." She pushed her hair back slightly. "I'm Alicia Spinnet, by the way."
Merlin nodded in acknowledgment.
"My family thought the Hogwarts letter was a prank," Alicia continued, smiling faintly at the memory. "When Professor McGonagall came to explain, they almost threw her out."
"They weren't too happy about me coming here either," she added. "Even after everything."
"My situation's the opposite," Angelina Johnson said from further down the table. "My mum's a witch, my dad's a Muggle. They knew about each other from the start. We still lived in the Muggle world, though. So this is all new for me as well."
The conversation spread naturally from there. Everyone talked about where they came from, their families, and how they'd found out about magic. When it came to Merlin, he kept it simple.
"I am an orphan," he said. "Raised in an orphanage in London."
The mood shifted slightly at his words. Lee patted his shoulder, and the Weasley twins declared they were mates for life from now on. Others threw sympathetic glances his way.
Percy Weasley, sitting nearby, adjusted his posture. "If you need help with your studies," he said, a bit stiff but well-meaning, "you may come to me."
That earned him a surprised look from Fred and George. From their reaction, Merlin realized how out of character it was for Percy to say that.
Merlin nodded with a smile. "I'll keep that in mind."
Once everyone had their fill, all the plates, now empty, vanished from the tables. The chatter quieted as Headmaster Dumbledore rose from his seat.
"Before we retire for the night," Dumbledore said, "allow me to introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—Mr. Wilson Shafiq."
Applause filled the hall.
Under everyone's gaze, a tall man with sharp features and neatly combed dark hair stood up. His robes were immaculate, not a single crease out of place. He looked more like a nobleman than a teacher.
"Thank you, Headmaster," Wilson said, his voice smooth, an elegant smile playing on his lips.
His gaze swept across the hall as he continued. "Defense Against the Dark Arts is not merely about casting spells. It is about understanding the nature of darkness—and then learning how to counter it effectively."
Merlin frowned slightly.
He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he felt there was something wrong with this professor. He made him feel… uneasy. It might just be him being paranoid though, given the history of this particular position in canon.
Wilson spread his arms, his smile widening. It was still elegant, but there was a bit more fervor in it. "Although some of you might find my teaching methods rather unconventional, bear with me as I will show you the true essence of this subject. It will all be within the limits permitted by the school, of course."
Yup. There was definitely something off about this professor.
Dumbledore cleared his throat softly, as if reminding him to stop.
Wilson smiled slightly, placed a hand over his chest, and bowed elegantly. "I look forward to seeing you all in class."
With that, he sat back down.
"There are a few other things to inform everyone," Professor Dumbledore said, looking at all the students below. "First-years should note that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits. Furthermore, Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to remind you not to cast magic in the corridors between classes. And finally, Quidditch tryouts will be held in the second week of term. Those interested should speak to Madam Hooch."
"Why can't we go into the forest?" one student whispered.
"Because it's called Forbidden," Lee said dryly, while Merlin couldn't help but take a glance at Fred and George—who looked far too interested, judging by the way they stole glances at each other, their eyes glinting with interest.
"If either of you go in there," Percy said sternly, well acquainted with his brother's though process, "I will write to Mum."
"We wouldn't!" the twins said in unison.
Their argument faded into the background as Dumbledore raised his hands again. With a gentle wave of his wand, a string of golden notes appeared out of thin air, swirling around the Great Hall.
"Now," he said, eyes twinkling, "before bed—let us sing the school song."
The result was chaotic to say the least.
No two people sang at the same pace. Some shouted, some mumbled, some clearly didn't know the words at all. Fred and George dragged their version out like a funeral march, earning a sharp look from Professor McGonagall.
When it finally ended, Dumbledore looked deeply satisfied.
"It's time for bed," he announced. "Prefects, please lead the new students to their dormitories."
Charlie Weasley stood up. "First-years, with me."
The group gathered quickly, forming a loose cluster around him. Merlin followed along without a word.
They left the Great Hall and stepped into the castle proper. As they passed through a maze of corridors, Merlin curiously eyed the many portraits hung on the walls. The figures in them whispered as they passed, some even greeting them.
After climbing who knew how many flights of stairs which seemed to be moving on their own and passing through more corridors, they finally stopped before a portrait of a rather plump woman in a pink dress.
"Password?" she asked.
"Caput Draconis."
After Charlie said it, the portrait opened like a door, revealing a circular opening behind it.
He didn't rush in, but instead turned to them and said, "You must remember the password. Only by saying it to the Fat Lady can you enter the common room. The current password is Caput Draconis."
With that, he led everyone into Gryffindor's common room.
Merlin's first impression was that it was warm and cozy. A large fireplace crackled at the center, surrounded by soft chairs and couches. The walls were decorated in red and gold, with Gryffindor's banner hanging proudly.
Several older students were sitting on the sofas chatting, and when they entered, they looked over and waved.
"Boy's dormitories are upstairs," Charlie said, motioning for them to follow him, while the girls were led away by a female prefect.
Climbing a spiral staircase, they found themselves in a narrow corridor lined with wooden doors on either side, which Merlin presumed were their dorms.
Charlie stopped and began calling out names, pointing each student toward their assigned room.
Each dorm accommodated four people. Merlin was surprised to find he was in the same room as Lee and the Weasley twins.
A coincidence? Maybe.
He was too exhausted to dwell on it.
By that point, the weight of the day was catching up to everyone. After changing into comfortable clothes, they each chose a bed without much discussion and then lay down.
The room settled into silence.
Merlin lay there for a moment, staring up at the canopy above him.
At some point, his eyes closed, and sleep took him.