Merlin was in a rage.


He was spiteful, furious, seeing raging red, cantankerous, bitter and exceedingly ill-tempered- and it was all because of those stupid mortals.


Not just any mortals. Oh no, Merlin adored…no, loved muggles. After all they had made thousands of dodgy films, an excess of corny T.V programmes, countless of cheesy poems and millions of exaggerated stories about his misadventures all dedicated to him. What’s not to love about muggles?


They didn’t moan about their stupidly insignificant lives to you, demand for miracles, plead for riches beyond belief, shamlessley declare they hate you, call upon you every ten seconds or question your very existence!


No muggles where much more tolerable than those absolutely loathsome magical folk.


“Merlin’s beard!”


“In the name of Merlin’s baggy Y fonts”


“Merlin’s fiery pink knickers!”


“For the love of Merlin!”


Did Merlin call upon those loathsome little cockroaches every ten seconds? Did Merlin comment on their mass (or lack when it came to those spotty teenage boys) of facial hair? Did he yell about their most horrendous choice of stinking undergarments to the world? For the life of him Merlin could not recall a single moment when he invited a Witch or Wizard to gaze upon his fiery pink knickers.


That is, if he had any.


(Merlin acknowledges your curiosity on the matter, but neither denies nor agrees with this statement: it is left to the general public to decide whether it is true or a mere falsehood. However the author would like to note that Merlin is blushing a magnificent shade of magenta at the very mention of fiery pink knickers).


Has no one taught those imbecilic magical folk that you should not use Merlin’s name in vain?


For every time a spotty adolescent or a wrinkled old hag cries out “Oh Merlin!” Merlin himself hears an extremely irritating ringing noise in the very depths of his wondrous brain. The ringing subsequently grows louder if he doesn’t tend to the situation, so it is daily -and with a heavy heart -that Merlin is forced to suffer through Wizards, Witches, Centaurs, Veelas, Goblins, Giants, Hags, Warlocks, Merepeople, Werewolves, Fairies and the occasional Bowtruckles problems.


Merlin would grudgingly accept the terrible responsibility he holds as the world’s agony aunt and general ethereal deity; if he got any credit for it. But as it is Merlin doesn’t receive any recognition for his tiresome work. He would love a title perhaps: “Merlin the Greatest Man You Will Ever Have the Pleasure of Meeting Who Most Definitely Does Not Own Pink Knickers”.


If Harry bloody Potter gets “The Chosen one”, “The Boy who lived”, “Master of Death”, “The Wizarding World’s Saviour”, “Youngest Gryffindor Seeker” and “Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award” then surely Merlin deserves one measly title too? Really, if that is too much to ask for he would grudgingly accept a molten gold statue embedded with precious stones, erected in the middle of Diagon Alley.


Merlin however is also extremely sympathetic with the taxpayer’s daily problems (having had a fair share of mortgages to pay in his day). He understands that perhaps some misers aren’t willing to devote their monthly taxes to the building of his statue in the midst of this prominent financial crisis. So if the gold statue is too expensive (after all we all have our fair share of Christmas shopping to do), Merlin would love a box of assorted Honeydukes confectionaries (please note: cauldron cakes are his favourite).


But alas I digress, Merlin has sat there nodding his head in understanding with a packet of Kleenex and a tub of “Cookies and Cream” for thousands of crying teenage girls suffering from an unjustly broken heart at least a gizillon times a day. Can he help it that they are so wrapped up in their own sad lives and there banshee-like wailing of Merlin’s name, that they don’t notice a bearded wizard in canary yellow robes sitting cross legged on their bed?


Really, small boundaries like existing in a different dimensions and time warp -therefore not being able too actually see Merlin- are far too petty for Merlin to be bothered to fix. They should be happy that he bothers to turn up at all. Isn’t it the thought that counts?


In his field of work Merlin has popped up in the strangest of places; the edge of Hogwarts Astronomy tower; at the maternity ward for the birth of Gellert Grindewald; Celestina Warback’s bedroom; a Justin Beiber concert; the middle of the Atlantic ocean; Azkaban and lastly Ronald Weasley’s bathroom.


“But that’s an invasion of our privacy you old doddering fool!” I hear you cry with fists raised in the air and ugly faces screwed up in disapproval.


Well to that I reply: screw you…and can you really blame the guy?


All Merlin does is follow the abnormally shrill ringing that resounds through his head every time one of you idiots calls him. He has no choice but to follow the sound and resolve the damm problem that caused you to call out his name in the first place.


It is here that Merlin feels he is justified to confide in you that one family in particular overuses his name: those bloody Wotters.


What kind of name is Wotters? Weasleys and Potters combined to sound like a dodgy canned vegetable of questionable sources- most commonly found in an old people’s home. (Merlin anxiously reminds you to keep his snide gossiping to yourself, after all even powerful deities need to abide by the data protection act passed in 1998. Nobody wants their customers dirty laundry aired in public).


 It is not just their ridiculous name that infuriates Merlin, oh no: it’s their confounded flair for dramatics.


Only yesterday Rose Weasley had an emotional breakdown in the Hogwarts Great Hall. That mentioned Merlin’s name a total of thirteen times. He safely assures you that she has inherited her father’s knack of Merlin themed expletives and the infamous Weasley temper (if the banging migraine Merlin had afterwards is anything to go by). She is almost as worse as James Sirius Potter.




James Sirius Potter is the bane of Merlin’s existence. Merlin never knew that insufferableness could be hereditary but those Potter’s proved him wrong. James Potter the second’s toeraged-ness must stem from his grandfather who was the equally as annoying James Potter the first.


 Merlin clearly remembers the nights he would wake up with a pounding headache all because of James Potter. Whether it would be confessing his love to the fiery Lily Evans in a poem (Merlin’s personal favourite being: “My love for you is a great as Merlin’s shiny white conditioned beard”) or provoking her legendary red-head temper and starting a raging rant.


Lily on many occasions would run up to her dormitory in a James Potter induced rage and end up screaming into her pillow: “MERLIN WHY DO YOU HATE ME? WHY IS MY LIFE SO MISERABLE? IS THIS SOME SORT OF SICK JOKE? DO YOU FIND MY PAIN FUNNY MERLIN?! YOU SADISITC CREEP!”


Merlin shudders at the horrific memory and painfully informs me that he had to down a packet of aspirin before he could think clearly again.


Not only does James Sirius Potter infuriates everyone he meets, struts around like he owns the very earth, creatively uses many Merlin themed curses, cause trouble at every turn of a Hogwarts corridor but he also dares to insult the name of Slytherin!


We would now like to share with you a quote from the arrogant eleven year old James Potter: “Slytherins are slimy little gits who deserve to be locked up in their own common room. If you want a job done never pick a Slytherin, they’ll only mess it up. I’m telling you, you can never trust a Slytherin with anything! Even if it’s picking up milk from the corner shop, they’ll just slither off to make horcruxes and plot world domination over a plate of custard creams and earl grey tea!”


Merlin would icily remind foolish James Sirius Potter (and all the other discriminatory members of magical society) that he himself was in Slytherin.


(Except he can’t because of that itty-bitty barrier of different dimensions and time paradoxes we touched down on before. Remember that? No? Oh well maybe another time).


Anyways, Merlin would really love to smack that ignorant Potter in the face with a fish (he has reserved a meaty tuna for when the anxiously awaited opportunity finally arises). Who do these witless witches and wizards think they are? They demand Merlin’s constant ear to moan into and his sagging shoulder to lean on but don’t respect his own Hogwarts roots?


Oh no they instead decide to conveniently forget that the greatest wizard of all time (Dumbledore who? Sorry I think you have the wrong number) was in Slytherin.


To sum it all up all Merlin is asking for is a little respect…


That and maybe a better pension scheme, a significant rise in his monthly pay, a fancy title or two, a pair of fluffy slippers (his current ones are all worn out), the execution of James Sirius Potter (and if that’s do-able then Merlin would like to add Rose Nymphadora Weasley, Ronald Billius Weasley, Dominique Weasley and little Lily Luna Potter to the death list), a down payment on his hefty mortgage, that molten gold, jewel encrusted statue we mentioned earlier, a brand new younger Mrs Merlin (after all, he does get a bit lonely up there) and it would be quite selfish for you to forget his box of Honeydukes confectioneries.


Let’s not forget Cauldron cakes are his favourite.







SO here I am with this fluffy one-shot. Did you guys like it? Was it bad? Was it too confusing and pooey? Was it actually funny? I’ve never really tried anything like it before and I thought it was a funny idea but I would really love to hear your feedback and opinions to improve!


If you have time the review box is down below ;)


Disclaimer: nothing you recognises belongs to me whether that be Merlin, Harry Potter or the privacy act of 1988 :D I’m just borrowing these lovely words

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