Merlin approached the small kelpie slowly, each step careful, afraid that any sudden movement might scare it away.
But the little creature didn't retreat.
Instead, it watched him with curious, intelligent eyes, its head just above the water's surface. Merlin knelt near the edge of the lake, lowering himself to be closer without looming over it.
Up close, he was amazed.
Its green hide shimmered faintly beneath the sunlight, water sliding smoothly over its form. Thin strands of aquatic plants tangled in its mane, and its eyes, bright and alert, held far more awareness than any normal animal's.
He swallowed, then spoke softly.
"You're… really beautiful, you know that ?"
The kelpie seemed to like that.
It let out a light, cheerful whinny and began swimming in small circles, sending gentle ripples across the lake. Merlin smiled, feeling his tension ease.
Slowly, he lifted his hand, hoping, just maybe, to touch it.
The moment the kelpie noticed, it darted back slightly and spat a splash of water straight into his face.
"Hey !" Merlin shouted, half surprised, half laughing.
The kelpie answered by splashing him again.
"Oh, so that's how it is ?" Merlin laughed, wiping water from his eyes.
Encouraged, he stepped into the lake, the cold water reaching his knees. He scooped water with both hands and tried to throw it back—but the kelpie was faster, more agile, splashing him from every angle.
A full-blown water fight broke out.
Merlin failed spectacularly at retaliating, laughing as he was soaked again and again. The kelpie whinnied happily, clearly enjoying the game far more than he was.
When they finally stopped, Merlin stood there completely drenched, clothes clinging to him, hair dripping, but smiling wide, breathless with laughter.
The kelpie grew still.
It watched him for several long seconds, as if weighing something unseen.
Then it swam closer.
Merlin froze, afraid even breathing might scare it away.
The creature sniffed him carefully, circling around his legs in the water. Then it stopped directly in front of him, lifting its head to look straight at his face.
Its gaze felt… deep.
As if it were looking past his skin, past his thoughts—straight into his soul.
Slowly, Merlin raised his hand again.
This time, the kelpie didn't pull away.
It leaned in, sniffing his fingers once… twice. Its ears flicked, and its eyes softened, as if he had finally memorized his scent.
Then, suddenly, it blinked, as if waking from a trance.
With a sharp snort, it turned away, splashed him one last time, and dove beneath the surface of the lake, disappearing into the dark water below.
Merlin stood there in stunned silence.
Soaked. Cold.
And completely confused.
"…What was that about ?" he murmured, staring at the rippling surface of the lake as it slowly grew still once more.
—-
Merlin's days slowly settled into a rhythm.
In the mornings, he helped his mother however he could—fetching water, grinding herbs, organizing bundles of dried plants, delivering remedies to neighbors who knocked quietly at their door. He listened more than he spoke, learned by watching, and carried himself carefully, already understanding that being noticed too much in that village was never a good thing.
Whenever he had free time, he returned to the clearing by the lake.
There, alone, he trained.
At first, progress was frustratingly slow. He practiced lifting small stones from the ground, focusing on control rather than strength. Sometimes one would rise shakily into the air, wobble… and drop. Other times, two or three would float for a few seconds before clattering back down.
Directing them was even harder.
No matter how much he concentrated, most of his attempts ended with nothing more than basic levitation. No elegant movement. No precision. Just floating.
Still, he noticed something important.
Meditation helped.
The more time he spent sitting quietly, breathing, untangling his thoughts, the easier it became to feel that inner warmth, the same sensation he had felt when he stopped Callum's branch. Over time, he began to think of it as "mana," borrowing the term from countless games and stories from his past life.
When he rushed or forced it, the mana felt wild, unstable.
When he was calm, it flowed.
Slowly, steadily, he learned to let it move through him instead of fighting it.
His relationship with the kelpie changed just as gradually.
What had once been a shy, cautious creature became something closer to a companion. Now, whenever Merlin sat at the lake's edge, the kelpie surfaced almost immediately, gliding toward him with familiar ease.
Merlin would smile and reach out, gently stroking its cold, scaled skin.
The kelpie loved it.
It would let out a pleased whinny, leaning into his touch, sometimes circling him lazily in the water as if showing off. Merlin laughed every time, warmth blooming in his chest at the simple joy of it.
Eventually, he gave the creature a name.
"Leith," he said one afternoon, testing the sound aloud. "It means 'running water.'"
The kelpie responded by splashing him lightly, as if in approval.
Merlin had begun to suspect they were somewhere in Scotland. The landscape, the lake, the rolling hills, everything looked like something you'd find by searching on Google Images.
Even the way people spoke, it all felt familiar in a distant, half-remembered way. It was hard to be certain, though. The village had no map, no records worth speaking of.
That didn't surprise him.
After all, he and his mother were among the very few who could read or write at all.
As trust grew, Merlin and Leith began swimming together. The kelpie would sometimes wrap a strand of its mane around Merlin's wrist, anchoring him in place as it swam faster through the water.
Merlin learned that lesson the hard way.
The first time it happened, he hadn't been ready, and swallowed a painful amount of water when Leith suddenly accelerated. He surfaced coughing and laughing while the kelpie circled him in what could only be described as smug amusement.
After that, Merlin was more careful.
He always made sure no one else was nearby. He never stayed in the water too long. And he never, ever let his magic show where it could be seen.
Until he knew exactly when he was, and who he was, it was far too dangerous.
Sometimes, drifting on his back in the lake, he wondered.
Was he THE Merlin ?
The Merlin of legend ? The one tied to magic, kings, and myths that echoed even into the Harry Potter world ?
Maybe or maybe not.
Hogwarts might not even exist yet.
The uncertainty kept him cautious.
As the sun dipped low, painting the sky in warm shades of gold and orange, Merlin floated on the surface of the lake beside Leith, the kelpie's head resting nearby, half-submerged.
For that moment, everything felt peaceful.
He had a home.
A mother who loved him.
Magic awakening within him.
And a friend unlike any other.
And Merlin cherished every second of it.