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Chapter Text

Where Do We Go From Here?
Chapter One: The Crystal Prison

Morgana glared at the crystal walls that had encircled her for the last millennia. Merlin had done his warding well, too well for her tastes. He’d spelled her in the Crystal Caves until there came a time where she felt true remorse for her actions and repented. Forced to watch her past over and over again as she stayed trapped in the cave, all the years of the world passing her by, leaving her untouched, a frozen memory in a glass case. She’d long since repented for her actions that caused the fall of Camelot and Arthur’s death, but Merlin was trickier than she had imagined.

Running a hand along her current scrying crystal she remembered that moment when she’d fallen to her knees watching her brethren persecuted by muggles, burned at the stake and chased into hiding in the 1600’s. She’d begged whoever was listening to let her out, so she could help. Not by killing, but by using her skills to enshroud the magical community in wards so tight they would never be hurt again. But even as she felt that desire to help, felt her old self, the self that had befriended a young serving boy and fought beside him and her brother and her servant for the love of Camelot return, she couldn’t break free from her prison. Realization settled in then, that Merlin had been pushed too far to hope for her redemption alone, he never expected her to succeed, he never expected her to be able to leave.

Sorrow gripped her, and she wept for ages, the world’s progress a minor footnote amongst her grief. She lived a half life even more than before as she drifted as a shade along her cage barely cognizant of the changes happening in the outside world until one night in 1938, when the present finally gripped her tight. She’d been going through the motions of preparing a sleeping draught for her nightmares when images of violent persecution, so reminiscent of the Purge during her childhood in Camelot shocked her out of her stupor. Windows were shattered as people were hustled into the streets, their faces wan and drawn out in terror as they were ushered into lines. Businesses were ransacked, and family homes demolished, all for the issue of race, of religion, of something so strange, so alien and yet so familiar. Morgana glared at the images of this night and the subsequent acts of terror, this Kristallnacht led by the words of a man so like Uther in his vehement hatred that she couldn’t ignore the world anymore.

When she turned to the magical world, to the communities that had been slowly flourishing and failing in their isolated bubbles she was again disgusted. Gellert Grindelwald had a good idea, to bring about an age of no fear, of no persecution, but his rampant violence and idealized subjugation of the muggles made her heart break. It was like looking into a mirror, a male counterpart a thousand years after her, making all the same mistakes she made, but without the Merlin there to stop him at every turn. She was on the edge, teetering between that line between madness and sanity she’d ridden so hard in her times at Camelot before she ran off with Morgause and sealed her fate, her inability to aid those dying in pain from persecution of those who had no real reason to do so beyond arrogance making her mind ache.

Watching Grindelwald burn his way through Europe she alternated her watch between his path of destruction and the slow rise of Albus Dumbledore, his former lover, to fame and glory. Once she might have equated Dumbledore to Merlin, his power and thirst for knowledge much like her former rival, but his manipulations and unwillingness to see people as they were, flaws and all, made him too dangerous. Merlin for all his faults, cared about the small people and cared about how his actions affected those around him. Though she still held anger in her heart for his betrayal in not confiding his powers to her when she needed him most, she knew he did it out of fear, not out of a desire to use her ignorance. Seeing Dumbledore skirt around the political field, teach his students with heavy prejudice against Slytherin’s, and frown upon Tom Riddle she knew he could never be the Merlin to Grindelwald’ s Morgana, not truly anyway.

On the fateful day when the former lovers battled it out and Dumbledore succeeded in winning the Deathstick, Morgana swore. Her colorful vocabulary gained from spending so much time with Arthur in her youth wide and vast. Dumbledore was cemented as a saint and hero amongst the magical world, and with the Deathstick in his grasp he was nearly as powerful as her or Merlin. Though he couldn’t practice the Old Religion, his power was immense, though his young rival Tom Riddle was quickly reaching his level through a deep immersion in the ‘dark arts’. She let herself breathe for a bit after Grindelwald’ s defeat as the world began to stabilize, magic creeping back into the physical realm.

Morgana scoffed at Dumbledore’s disdain for what he labeled dark. Magic was about intent, the Old Religion was sentient as it was magic itself, life everlasting, but this new form that wizards and witches possessed was so watered down and filtered through their little sticks that their minds were the main focus of power, making intent so important for their spell work. Though she did agree with his disgust on Riddle’s methods, horcruxes were incredibly unstable pieces of magic, chipping away at the soul, the source of magic and balance in nature was not only ridiculously dangerous, but also absurd, there were other, easier paths of immortality he could have taken. Watching the newly minted Order of the Phoenix fight Riddle’s Death Eaters, she felt the urge to act consume her again.

And on October 31, 1981 when Riddle went to Godric’s Hollow to fulfill his pathetic little prophecy by killing Harry James Potter, something changed. Watching the red-eyed wizard stalk through the house after quickly killing James Potter, Morgana felt her magic bubble and writhe within her, that pathetic excuse for a wizard she’d once pitied was going to kill a child, a baby, an innocent. As Lily Potter begged for her son’s life, Morgana pushed at the boundaries of her prison, begging it to let her magic out if it couldn’t let her out to save the woman, to save her son. A flash of green flushed across the crystal and Lily Potter fell. Snarling Morgana let loose a torrent of fire as Riddle turned towards the defenseless child. Flames curled and licked at the translucent crystals surrounding her, cracking the fragile rocks into shards, melting them down with their heat. Another flash of blinding green crossed the surface of the crystal before her. Riddle fell to the ground, leaving a crying and scarred, but alive Harry Potter. A bleeding lightning bolt, the ancient rune Sowilo cut into his forehead. Morgana felt something shudder through her as the crying child seemed to look up and catch her gaze with his, deep, killing curse emerald eyes met pale jade, and something deep within the Crystal Caves began to crack open.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: Joining the Wizarding Realm

           Cracking her neck, Morgana flexed her muscles as a tidal wave of magic rushed through her, the Old Religion returning to her veins after being so muted by her prison walls. The very crystalline walls that had encased her for so long cracking and flaking away to show a brittle rock slab shoved in front of the entrance. She assumed Merlin placed it there as a final physical barrier of her prison. It would take time to break it down until she could finally leave, but after witnessing the corruption of magic in the world from Grindelwald to Voldemort she knew now more than ever she needed to return to the world of people, to bring the Old Religion to its former glory. She knew she would never reach the ideal of a united Albion like what had been prophesied for her brother’s reign, but reinvigorating the world with the Old Religion, feeling the magic pulse in the ether, she would do anything to make that happen.

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           Hundreds of miles away, a young infant slept fitfully in a cupboard under the stairs, his dreams fraught with images of flashing green light and a cruel laugh. Twisting in his threadbare blanket, he curled in on himself, desperate to hide from the dreams. Words echoed along his young mind, soothing the jagged edges of the nightmare with the scent of cinnamon and a soft exhale of “Mummy loves you Harry.” Magic pulsed out from the child as he settled into a calmer state of sleep, his eyes flashing gold beneath his eyelids as he drew on the warmth of his parents love.

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           Glaring at the stone slab blocking her path Morgana ran through the list of spells that could obliterate the last obstacle containing her. Time seemed to stand still as she paced back and forth and years passed without her noticing until finally, she exhaled, eyes flaring bright gold as she whispered “Onstyrian, onbregdan.” The rock groaned as it slowly shifted, daylight piercing the cavern, bouncing off the crystals to illuminate Morgana in the pale light of the morning sun. Stepping forward she inhaled, taking in the fresh air for the first time in nearly a millennium. The sky was a pale grey as the sun crested over the horizon, her position at the entrance of the cave overlooking a dewy green valley that stretched out into a series of suburbs and homes signaling a very different world that what she had known.

           Magic danced along the edges of her fingertips, an old friend finally reunited in full with the High Priestess as she stepped out into the world, rejoining the remnants of the Old Religion in this new age. For all her visions and scrying of events in the world as she was locked in her cave, the feeling of the Old Religion coursing through her veins, pulsing at her return as it mingled with the pale specter of the magics modern wizards and witches commanded took her breath away. Morgana could feel the imitation magic, the chained and confined form the Old Religion had been warped into and she nearly wept; she had work to do. Freeing the Old Religion from the chokehold these ‘wizards’ placed it in and protecting that innocent boy, Harry Potter. Destiny had marked him as a figure of an ancient prophecy, Morgana knew fate would not be kind to the child unless she intervened.

          Following the threads of this new, weaker version of magic, she pinpointed a location where it seemed to culminate and grinned. Had Arthur or one of the Knights of Camelot been there, they would have shuddered, long since figuring out that the tight-lipped smirk that left Morgana’s piercing green eyes a deep shade of emerald was a signal for the worst kind of mischief on her part. With a chant of “Bedyrne! Astýre pe þanonweard!” she disappeared.

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         Several days later found her standing in front of Gringotts, after researching all she could about this hidden wizarding world for the past few days she’d decided to meet with the Goblins and see if she could open an account. Money was easy enough to come by, she’d set aside a cache of jewels and gold from her times as Queen of Camelot and from her homeless days. As a High Priestess she hadn’t needed the money but knew that she may have a use for it sometime in the future. Stepping through the doors of the marble building she smirked at the quaint warning embossed on the inner silver doors.

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

         If the goblins really had to warn against thievery in such a manner then perhaps they weren’t as well guarded as they wanted people to think, she’d learned over her isolation that intimidation tactics only worked so far. The large marble halls were impressive though, the long counters and multitude of goblins working them gave the impression of grandeur contrary to their smaller sizes.

        Walking towards the counter, she spotted a free goblin with small square spectacles dangling on the edge of his nose as he perused a stack of parchments. Striding towards him she let her power out, a looming presence of all her years and experience hovering just beyond common perception.

           “I would like to open a vault,” her smooth voice startled the goblin as he looked at her, eyes widening as he took in her aura.

           “Name?”

           “Morgana, Morgana le Fay of House Pendragon and Gorlois,” she knew that she wasn’t really of Gorlois as Uther had made a bastard of her with her mother, but she’d been raised as such and was technically the heir regardless of her true birthright, and even with her disdain for Uther she was still a Pendragon. The goblin dropped what was left of the parchments in his hands as he stared at her for a long moment.

           “You better not be lying witch, those are powerful names to drop, and trickery is not tolerated here at Gringotts.” Gesturing over to one of his fellows he had a quick conversation in a harsh guttural language she couldn’t make out. “Come with me, I am Griphook. The Director would like to speak with you.” Without looking to see if she was following, Griphook turned and walked down the corridor behind the counters. Rolling her eyes at his impudence, Morgana stepped through the small opening the other goblin had left her and followed through a newly opened door.

           Winding through a labyrinth of tunnels, she felt a shiver roll down her spine at the confined space and underground walls of rock. After so long in the Crystal Caves, open air and spaces were far preferred to this closed off existence. Griphook stopped suddenly at the end of a hall before two looming double doors of a rich ebony wood and rapped once. The door creaked open and he stepped inside, pausing to turn at her and state, “You will wait here,” before walking inside and closing the door behind him. Rolling her eyes, Morgana stood there her posture straight and wound tight like a bowstring as she waited. Running through a list of purchases she would need to make once she had the currency of this time settled, Morgana waited for several long minutes before the doors swung open and a voice snarled out, “Enter.”

           Tugging on her sleeves, she strode into the newly revealed room, marveling at the warm browns and reds that were illuminated by flickering sconces along the walls. A thick heady aroma of earth and rainwater after a violent storm curled along her senses as she took in the massive granite desk and the imposing goblin seated behind it. Griphook stood off to the side as she walked towards the goblin in charge, the green silks of her dress rustling across the floor as she walked. Noting the ornate mahogany chair pulled out in front of the desk, she gathered her skirts in hand and seated herself, aligning the fabric with her lap as she crossed her ankles and let her gaze settle on the goblin before her. A sharp grin met her gaze, sharp filed teeth bared down on her as she stared at the goblin.

           “I am Ragnök, Director of Gringotts. Griphook tells me you claim your name is Morgana le Fay.”

           “I claim nothing, my name is Morgana le Fay.” Morgana bristled slightly as the thought occurred to her that others may have attempted to claim her name before.

           “Prove it,” Ragnök replied as he held out a piece of parchment and a small silver dagger, “Cut your finger and let the blood fall to the parchment, magic will tell if you’re lying or not, witch.”

           Taking the proffered items from him, Morgana ran her hand along the hilt of the dagger, feeling the ambient magic on it. The same magic whispered from the parchment as she placed it on the edge of the desk. Holding the dagger in her right hand, she ran the tip of the blade along her palm, a thin scratch that began to well blood along the cut, the drops dripping down to coat the parchment. Her eyes flashed gold at the lingering pain as she wordlessly healed the cut before turning the parchment towards Ragnök. Words began to form from the drops of blood, her family tree sketched out along the vellum.

Uther Pendragon + Vivienne Gorlois—Morgana (le Fay) Pendragon (illegitimate)

(adopted by Sir Gorlois age 2)

           “Have I proven myself?” Morgana arched an eyebrow at the Director as his jaw twitched upon her words, his eyes fixed on the paper before him and the damning words it held.

           “I apologize,” he bit out, a grimace contorting his face at the indignity of apologizing to someone, “We do not often receive those of such noble and long-lived identities, and we have learned caution from many imposters over the years.” Nodding her head Morgana accepted the apology. “As it happens though, your request to open a vault is—unnecessary, it seems one was opened for you when Gringott first created the bank by a Merlin Emrys. It exists in the deeper caverns and has laid untouched for the past six hundred years, I have no knowledge of what lies in it.” His hand rose from the desk and twisted with a flourish as an old iron key appeared on his palm. The Pendragon crest of a curled dragon was wrought into the handle of the key, the jagged, three-pronged teeth jutted out from beneath the dragon’s claws. Taking the key from him, Morgana stood, her stomach curling at the thought that Merlin had created a vault for her, was it to spite her? Or did he do it so when she got out she wouldn’t be destitute? Did that mean that he’d always expected her to get out?

         Questions swam around her as she blindly followed Griphook out of the room and down another corridor. Torches lit the narrow stone passageway as they turned the corner and came to a cart along railway tracks. Climbing in behind the goblin, Morgana inhaled sharply as they suddenly hurtled down the tracks, winding and rushing through the underground caves, wind whipping her hair about her in a frenzy, her eyes watering at the speed, it was faster than any horse she’d ridden by far. The ride seemed to go on forever as they descended deeper and deeper until finally the cart jerked to a halt. Griphook exited the cart and stood before a massive door in the passage wall. Dragons flew across the borders of the door as the Pendragon crest stood on one half of the door, the other a series of snarled vines that ended in a gilded rose bud with a keyhole in the center. Griphook stepped forward and unlocked the door. A plume of green smoke billowed out as the door opened and Morgana felt a rush of magic sizzle through her, the Old Religion yawning as its artifacts were revealed after so long in isolation. The vault was filled with jewels and gold, much of it she recognized from her stashes across Albion.

         Sheathed and hung between two pillars was Clarent, the blade Mordred used to kill Arthur. Hissing at the cursed object, Morgana wondered why Merlin had taken it up and placed it in the vault, was he judging her for her past actions? The bracelet Morgause had enchanted for her was on a plush purple pillow a few feet away, causing her mixed feelings as she remembered her sister’s death. In her time in the Crystal Cave, Morgana had seen Morgause for who she truly was, a poisonous influence on her mind. She’d also seen Morgause enchant the bracelet with not just a sleeping spell, but an underlying compulsion to loathe everything to do with Uther and the Pendragon line. Morgause’s betrayal in that was still biting, her sister had caused the irreparable rift between Morgana and Arthur and the deep self-hatred Morgana carried for many years.

         Shaking her head to rid herself of the ghosts of the past, Morgana took the proffered money bag from Griphook, marveling for a moment at its undetectable extension charm, before filling it with the modern currency from the small piles below Clarent. Griphook took the time to explain to her the exchange rates of galleons and knuts, as well as the modern muggle currency of pounds. Pausing before the sword, she hesitated, then grabbed it and slid the sword into the bag, cursed it may be, but it could come in handy. From what she had observed of the modern wizard, they relied heavily on their wands and had little to no aptitude with wandless magic, so if she were to attack with a sword they wouldn’t know how to counter. She made her way around the vault, stopping every so often to pick up an artifact and stow it away in the bag. Morgana was surprised to see what Merlin had placed in her vault, items ranging from the lightest magic such as the unicorn horn gifted to Arthur after he completed the Labyrinth of Gedref to the coin of Necromancy Morgause had given her that she’d used to raise Lancelot’s shade from death. Gathering what she thought had the potential for use, and what held power in the Old Religion, Morgana swiftly finished and followed Griphook back to the cart.

         The journey back seemed to pass quicker than before, and soon they were stopped and headed back into the main hall. Placing the money bag into a hidden pocket of her gown, Morgana turned to Griphook and inclined her head ever so slightly to the goblin.

         “Thank you for your assistance, Master Griphook. When I return in the future I would like to meet with you or the Director to discuss making some investments in this modern age, I have been out of touch with the world and would like to become a part of it once more.” With her words, Griphook smiled, his jagged grin sending several wizards a few feet away into a mild panic.

           Bowing his head, Griphook responded, “May your return to the world be a fruitful one, for you and any future partnership you hold with Gringotts, Lady Pendragon.”

           Pleased with her success at the bank, Morgana faced down the rest of Diagon Alley and went about her business. Her mental lists shortening as she went first to Scribulus Writing Implements, picking up massive stacks of parchment and bound notebooks for her experiments and education with the new magic as well as several inkwells and quills. She then backtracked to Flourish and Blott’s where she spent several hours combing the shelves, gathering books about wizarding history, dark and light magic, as well as histories of current events surrounding the wars with Grindelwald and Voldemort. Once done she made her way across the cobblestone alley to Slug and Jiggers and Mr. Mulpepper’s Apothecary to stock up on potion supplies. Using the notes she’d made from the potions books she’d grabbed at Flourish and Blott’s along with her memory of ingredients from potions she’d made in the past, she bought out most of the current stock of each store. Once done she went down to Potage’s Cauldron shop and purchased several cauldrons. Thanking the ingenuity of the undetectable extension charm on the bags at each shop, she drifted over to the second-hand bookshop next to Gambol & Japes Joke shop to see if she could find any rare books.

         Once there though, the young witch behind the counter did little to disguise her unease with someone shopping in the store and not wanting to deal with it, Morgana swiftly exited. Her next stop at Obscurus Books ended better, she left the store with several dozen books and the promise of a pen pal with the owner, a former Ravenclaw witch by the name of Dorcas Meadowes. Passing by Madam Malkin’s Robes earlier that day Morgana had made the conscious choice not to enter after a redheaded woman with several young children headed into the store. Though Morgana had nothing against children, the threadbare state of their clothing led her to believe the robes shop wasn’t one of high quality, and she was used to high quality. She’d let much of her vanity go in the years after her first failed conquest of Camelot, she’d shed her fripperies and fine silks like she’d shed her sanity and now that she had that back she was loath to dress less. Entering Twilfitt and Tattings, clothing shop on the southern side of the alley, she was impressed by the fine velvets and silks that lined the walls. Her esteem of the shop rose when the owner stepped out from behind the glass counter and helped her pick out several sets of everyday robes, dresses, and other garments, including a few outfits that the woman insisted would be acceptable for the muggle world as well.

          Finished with the majority of her purchases Morgana made her way back down the alley towards the Leaky Cauldron when she stopped suddenly in front of the menagerie shop. Feeling a low thrum of magic akin to the feeling of the Old Religion in her veins from within the store, she turned on her heel and entered. Emerald eyes scanned the walls, ignoring the glittering garish orange shells of snails along the wall. She headed towards the avian section of the shop, stopping before a beautiful thick billed raven, its glossy black plumage and large frame making it stand out amongst the other birds in the shop. It let out a loud croak from its large bill as she approached, before it hopped off its perch to circle above her head before landing none too gently on her shoulder. Sagging at the sudden weight, Morgana stilled as the bird ran his beak through her curls, nuzzling the side of her head for a moment before taking off again with a loud croak that sounded suspiciously like Fay. Heart pounding in her chest, Morgana knew instinctively that she’d been chosen by the bird, and as a High Priestess and servant of the Triple-Goddess she knew better than to snub the goddess’s chosen messenger. Turning to the counter to purchase the large raven, she paused, the call akin to the Old Religion still echoing in her bones. Taking a step forward she walked deeper into the shop, letting her own magic out to follow the tendrils of power to its origin.

          Stopping her pursuit in front of the feline section of the shop, Morgana let a smile, a true smile flit across her face. As a girl she had played with the kitchen cats in the lower levels of the castle. Her father Gorlois used to help her chase them through the halls. He’d pick her up and place her on his shoulders as they charged after their prey. The cats here however varied and didn’t look quite like the skinny shorthaired ones she’d chased as a child. One in particular caught her eyes. Thick black fur speckled with silver spots that shimmered beneath the sconce lighting and a large white spot on the chest with large ears that folded over and a thick tail with a large tuft of fur at the end. The cat’s face was rounded and as she stepped closer, it’s eyes blinked open to reveal golden orbs nearly the same shade as her own when she casts magic. As she knelt, Morgana held out a hand for the cat to sniff. Snuffling, it blinked at her a moment before sniffing at her fingers and giving them a tiny lick.

         “Oh, that’s a surprise, we just got this girl not that long ago, we think she’s a kneazle hybrid but we’re not sure what exactly she’s mixed with. She’s about two months old at the best guess,” a staff member had walked up behind Morgana as she acquainted herself with the cat.

         “How much? For her and the raven?” Morgana asked, her free hand diving through the money pouch in her pocket.

         “Ah well we don’t know exactly what she’s crossed with and since kneazle hybrids are to be registered with the Ministry she’ll be around 15 galleons, the raven 10. They’re both unnamed and young, actually now that I think about it they arrived the same day,” halting in his speech the wizard paused and got a canny look in his eye as he took in the rich silks Morgana was dressed in, “Of course you’ll be needing food and grooming supplies as well so I’d round it up to an even 30 galleons, and you’ll need to register your cat soon with the Ministry.”

         Not even paying his words mind, Morgana nodded her head and replied, “Done,” her attention fixated on the cat before her that was slowly uncurling to climb into her now outstretched arms, she was heavy, a good several pounds signifying she’d get quite a bit heavier as she grew.

         Paying the man, Morgana left the store with her new familiars in tow and headed towards the Leaky Cauldron where she’d rented a room upon her return to the world. Nodding a head at the barkeep Tom as she entered, she made her way to the back and up the stairs to her room. Closing the door behind her she began to unload some of her purchases as her familiars settled into the new room. She’d gone house hunting the day before, but upon her survey of the vault at Gringotts, she’d found a listing of properties in her name. Searching through the bag Griphook had given her, she found the parchment with her assets and pulled it out to look. A knock at the door startled her for a moment, and she set the paper down to open the door. Tom stood on the other side with a tea tray.

         “I thought you might like some tea and an afternoon snack after your day in the Alley milady,” Tom offered her the tray and she took it with a soft smile, her eyes crinkling at his thoughtfulness. Thanking him, she closed the door and settled back down at the small desk she’d been sitting at, pouring herself a cup of tea with a splash of milk and two spoons of sugar. She delighted in the custom of afternoon tea that seemed to be so pervasive in modern British society. Nibbling on a cucumber and tomato sandwich she looked over the list of assets, searching for an appropriate home.

One Manor along the Forest of Ascetir, including the Forest of Ascetir as part of the boundary (on the condition that she keep the peace with the Fae that dwell among the trees), Ealdor Manor

Fortress of Idirsholas

Governance of the Darkling Woods (on the condition that she upkeeps the druidic shrines and keeps to oaths of the High Priestess of the Old Religion)

One Manor in the Wizarding community of Portree, Storr Cottage

One Cottage in the Wizarding community of Holyhead, The Nest

One House in London located in Borough of Islington, Number 7 Corvus Place

           Running a hand along the names and locations, some more familiar than others, she thought over which location would be the most convenient and easiest for her plans. As she plotted and thought over each angle, she settled on checking out the house on Corvus Place the next day. Settling down for the night, she felt her new cat curl into her side as she closed her eyes, her raven settled on his perch she’d placed along the windowsill. Sleep took her and with it came the dreams, flashes of visions of the time to come. A young fawn, weak and thin struggling to walk. A black dog in the pouring rain, emaciated yet snarling. A lone wolf covered in scars howling at the moon. A tabby cat quietly padding down a stone corridor. And a pale snake with red eyes slithering amongst the grass.

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           Many miles away in the cupboard under the stairs at Number 4 Privet Drive, four-year-old Harry Potter slept fitfully, his small hands covered in a thin bandage from the grease burns at his attempts at frying bacon earlier that morning. Curling into a ball, Harry’s unconscious mind wished for a way free of the pain, a way out of this hell.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: Finding a Home

           The morning saw Morgana perusing her new tomes as she ate a sparse breakfast Tom had left under a warming charm at her door. Thumbing through the text of a wizarding historian about their theological beliefs, she was amused to see the Triple Goddess renamed the Trifold Goddess and combined with the Morrígan at times. Reading about the witches who came after her and her sisters as High Priestesses as the Old Religion slowly faded into the background and new magic rose to the forefront. According to one old witch, Branwen, the new magic spread like wildfire because of its ease of use, the tool of the wand directing the power and allowing even those with a small aptitude of power success. Reading about the successes and failures of this new magic and its separation from the Old Religion - as it classified it - and those who were born within Fae, Morgana turned to her new cat with a smirk, her white spot on the chest and large body for such a young age hinted at a fae origin in addition to the kneazle; she’d bet her magic that her new pet was part Cat Sidhe, a death spirit of the fae. It annoyed her to see Old Religion lumped together with the term fae and though it did work at some points, it was erroneous to assume they were all one in the same. Running a hand through her familiar’s fur, she smiled at her purring.

           “Perhaps I should name you Macha? Does that work for you?” the cat nodded her head beneath Morgana’s stroking, a loud rumble echoing from her chest in approval of the name. Turning to the raven perched on the sill, she tilted her head and considered him for a moment before asking, “Dagda?”

           Croaking, the raven fluttered over to land on her shoulder before replying, “Dagda. Màthair.”

           Smiling at his acceptance of the name, and his own naming of her as mother, Morgana stroked the edges of his feathers, watching as he preened. While Dagda would never be considered the most beautiful of birds, his large size and sharp beak would do him well. They all sat together for a few minutes in harmony until Morgana shifted and decided to get ready for the day; she had a house to see and arrangements to make.

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           An hour later saw her striding down Corvus Place towards Number 7 in a new dress from Twilfitt and Tatter’s. Cream colored and cut at the knee with short heels and loose curls, she looked the picture of a sophisticated young woman. Stopping before the gap between six and eight, she focused her magic and her eyes flashed gold, number seven slowly appearing from beneath its veil.

           Red brick walls with black wrought iron window trellises and balconies met her gaze, an ornate kissing gate popping up along a cobblestone walkway to the large front door. The Old Religion seemed to hum in the air, a thick nearly palpable feel as she pushed past the gate to walk to the door. Stepping up to the neat mat along the entranceway, Morgana lifted her hand and said, “Aliese,” taking a half step back as the magic pulsed and the door swung open to reveal a warmly lit hallway. Sconces on the walls lit as she walked into the house, revealing hand painted portraits of the knights of Camelot. Holding back a sob at seeing the faces of men she’d killed or tortured, she forced herself onwards until she reached a door. Quickly opening it she rushed inside to get away from the eyes that seemed to bore deep into her mind. Shuddering, she shook herself and steeled her spine. She’d done the knights of Camelot wrong, she’d done Camelot wrong, but she was here now to make a change, to redeem herself, if possible.

           Stepping further into the room, she gathered it was a parlor of some sorts, books on shelves along the walls with trinkets mixed between. A small oak table sat in the center of the room between plush sitting chairs and in front of an ornate fireplace large enough to fit several Percival’s. On the table was a small cream note. Curious, Morgana walked forward and picked up the note, turning it over to reveal the words, I knew you would choose this home. -M.E.

           Rolling her eyes at Merlin’s impudence Morgana set letter back on the table and set out to explore the house. Several hours later found her in the kitchens, hands on her hips as she argued a menu with the house elves Merlin had seen to employ in her name. The head elf, Bitty, insisted on a three-meal a day plan with afternoon tea, but as Morgana’s appetite was spare since leaving the Crystal Cave she didn’t feel the need for such food.

           “But Miss Morgie, what about guests? You may be a Creature of the Old Magics, but others will need food more often than you. And you wouldn’t want to deprive us elves of our work?” Bitty ended the argument there, her wide blue eyes seemingly smirking even though her face was the picture of innocence.

            Exasperated, Morgana strode off to the library to unload her books. She’d made several trips back to the Leaky Cauldron as soon as she’d explored the house. Seven bedrooms, a grand library, a solar, a parlor, a workroom, a basement, an attic, a garden and open yard, and a kitchen made up the entirety of Number 7 Corvus Place. Dagda had taken to the vaulted ceilings with glee, croaking “Nead,” as he circled around his new home. Macha shrugged in elegant cat fashion and curled up in one of the plush chairs littered throughout the library and slept. Cracking open one of the novels she’d picked up about wizarding history of the last thousand years Morgana set herself to committing it all to memory.

            She’d been reading for an hour when a tapping at the window startled her from her task. A large brown owl was hovering at the window, a letter grasped in its talons. Getting up, Morgana made her way over to the window to let the bird in. It rushed in with a hoot and stuck its leg out for her to take the letter. Summoning a coin from her bags, she exchanged it for the letter and the owl took off. Opening the letter, she noted the seal said it was from Gringotts.

Lady Pendragon,

It has come to our attention that we erred in introducing you to your vault yesterday. There is a letter for you that has been passed from account manager to account manager over the years for you. As we were unaware of your arrival in the world, we were unprepared to give the letter to you as an account manager had yet to be named at the turn of this century. We have since fixed this error and appointed Ironclaw to be your liaison and account manager. We request you come at your earliest convenience to pick up your letter and discuss finalizing the arrangements with the Director and Ironclaw.

May your gold ever flow,

Head Goblin Steelfang  

           Setting the letter aside, Morgana puzzled over who would have written her a letter. Looking at the time, she decided it was something best suited for the morning and gathered her notes and headed off to the room she’d claimed as her own.

ᛇ ᛇ ᛇ

           Pushing through the double doors on the inside of Gringotts Morgana strode over to the Head Goblin at the front of the counters. Pulling out the key they’d given her on her last visit she handed it to him with a raised eyebrow.

           “I received an owl last night about a letter left for me?”

           “Ah, milady Pendragon, yes if you will follow me?” The goblin ushered her down the hall and through the doors. The passageway looked familiar and she soon discovered why as they ended up before the Directors office. The doors opened, and the goblin ushered her inside.

           Ragnök sat behind his desk, a pile of glittering gems in front of him as he examined each for flaws.

           “Ah milady Morgana, merry meet. When we last met we were unprepared and as such when I went back through the records of your vault I discovered this letter for you.” Ragnök’ s voice tumbled against her senses as she questioned who would have left her a letter, Merlin perhaps?

           Taking the proffered envelope from the Director, she lifted it and began to examine it for clues. There was a slight magical residue, most likely to preserve it through the ages, and a soft lilac scent that seemed eerily familiar. Flipping it around she noted her name in elegant sweeping strokes along the back. The front was closed tight with a wax seal, the signet ring of House Pendragon pressed into the dried wax. Sliding a nail under the seal, Morgana used the length to swipe through the seal, tearing it apart it a quick motion.

          Unfolding the letter, her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the handwriting from so long ago. They’d spent half her childhood writing secret messages to each other when Uther forced her to sit in on council meetings.

My Dearest Morgana,

I say dearest, because even after everything, I still love you. Merlin swears to me that by the time you read this you will be the Morgana we knew and loved. I wish we could have done more for you, shown you we cared no matter what. You must have been so scared my dear friend, discovering you had magic and having to hide it from us. I’d like to say we never would have judged you for it, but I cannot say for certain, with Uther as king life was dangerous, even for those without magic. I won’t say that fear absolves you of all your sins, for you have committed terrible atrocities Morgana, not just to me, but to Camelot. Merlin sat me down not long after Arthur died and told me everything, about himself and you, the prophecy. The darkness to his light he called you. I only wish you could have been the light to his darkness. He’s so cold now that Arthur is gone, I don’t know how to reach him. Their bond was unlike any other.

It’s been fourteen years to the day since Mordred betrayed us and killed Arthur, and I’ve done my best to reign justly in my husband’s name. Though, I fear that name will soon fade. Arthur died before we could have children. Once, just after he passed, I had hope, a child had quickened within me, but my grief and sorrow for Camelot’s losses were too great and I lost the babe. While I yearn for a child I could have called my own, my life has not been empty. Leon, our old friend married! To a Druid girl nonetheless. Her name is Bronwen and they’ve had several children. Gwaine too has a child, though he was not here to see her. He had a longtime lover that we knew nothing about! Her name was Elaine, she passed a year ago. Their daughter, Drea became my ward and I look upon her as a daughter. As the years pass, I wish more than anything that you were here with me. The lords circle like vultures, waiting to see me falter in a moment of weakness to strike. I have no heir for them, and though I rule as Queen, it is only because of my marriage to Arthur that I do so.

The Pendragon line ends when I die, and that saddens me to no end. And so, my dear friend, in this letter I write you a royal pardon, your actions were exacerbated by Morgause’s spell work and extreme duress. As a free woman, I proclaim you, legitimately Morgana Pendragon, Queen to Camelot until the day comes when an heir is born. You shall not have to wear the title of bastard any longer my dear, Uther should have done this long ago. I know that we shan’t meet again, but I wish you to know that I bear you no ill will. I cannot understand all of your actions or motivations, but I can forgive you for them. And please my dear friend, remember that. And know that I do not blame you for Arthur’s death. You may have given Mordred the tools, but he chose to betray his king, to break the oaths of brotherhood and fealty, and to kill the man who raised him up so high. My time on this earth is fading, I do not think I will live much longer. A sickness has taken me and each day I find it harder to breathe. The line of succession ends with you, but with you rehabilitating in the Crystal Caves, I know Camelot will not stay the same once I’m gone. At this point, I know that I have done my best for Camelot, and that you will honor your heritage when the time is right. I wish you all the best in your new life Morgana.

All my love,

Guinevere Pendragon, Queen of Camelot

          A tingle of power shot up Morgana’s spine as she pulled out the legal documents Gwen mentioned. Wincing, the stiff parchment sliced her finger, blood welling to the surface to drip on the paper. Her eyes flashed gold involuntarily and a weight settled on her hand. Blinking back her surprise, Morgana stifled a sob as the Pendragon signet ring lay on her finger, the heavy gold dragon bearing the weight of the world.

         Gwen had forgiven her. After everything, her dearest friend, closest confidant, had forgiven her. She knew Merlin had, for he had left her the vault, and let her escape the Crystal Caves. She’d also watched him throughout the years as he worked to found the first magical school in Scotland and then again with his subtle meddling in the Crusades. He didn’t stop to think on her often, but whenever he did she could tell that deep hatred he’d felt was gone, much as hers had faded for his many betrayals over the years.

         Clutching the letter to her chest, she let tears fall one after the other until she was racked with sobs. She gasped for air as they came, snot clogging her nose as she sobbed. Distantly she remembered she wasn’t alone in the room, but she couldn’t find it in her to care. For so long she’d lived in a fog, separate from her emotions because if she felt anything at all, the loneliness of it all would break her, she wouldn’t be able to cope alone, with no one to help.

          Gwen had legitimized her, had given her the Pendragon name, had named her Queen until an heir was born, an heir, meaning her child. Her mind was spinning with these revelations. Gwen had accepted her and loved her again and given her a name. Having a title, even if it was more ceremonial than anything since Camelot had been converted to something more useful long ago, it opened up doors that were previously closed to her. And Gwen’s comment about Gwaine’s bastard gave her an idea on her current situation in dealing with the poor child from her visions.

ϟ ϟ ϟ

         Said boy was currently washing the dishes left over from his second attempt at a full English breakfast, the caked-on grease from the bacon difficult to scrub away for his meager strength. Wincing as the hot water and soap irritated his burns, Harry scrubbed and scrubbed at the grease, teetering at the edge of the chair he’d pulled up to be able to reach the sink. Aunt Petunia had been very cross with him that morning, cuffing him upside the head because his bacon was once again burnt and the eggs too runny. Thankfully Uncle Vernon had to go into work and so he couldn’t do more than push Harry around for his failures.

         Tears dripped down from his startling green eyes as he pulled his hands from the hot water, the searing pain of the burns becoming too much. He just wanted the dishes to be clean, so he could go out into the garden and pull the weeds, the cool air would help with the pain, it had yesterday. Shaking, Harry rubbed at his eyes furiously trying to rid himself of his tears. If Dudley saw him crying he’d just start to taunt him for being a baby. He was four, almost five. He wasn’t a baby! But try as he might, the tears wouldn’t stop. He started to panic as the tears turned into loud, wet hiccups and he shook trying to contain them. Water suddenly splashed out from the sink and as he looked back to the dishes he gasped, each and every one of them was settled on the drying rack, sparkling clean.

        It must have been magic!  

Chapter Text

Chapter Four: Hello and Goodbye

            Tapping her newly lacquered nails along the kitchen table Morgana stirred the remnants of her morning tea with an idle finger. She’d spent the last few months slowly building her presence in this wizarding community of Britain. She’d researched the standards of education extensively and began to craft her backstory as the daughter of the Le Fey line (a line descended from her own blood, from a daughter it still pained her to think about) who fled during Voldemort’s first war to the Americas. She created papers and a detailed background of her parents, Vivian and Goraidh Le Fey childless heirs who’d actually fled to the Americas much like in her fictitious backstory.

However, she weaved a narrative of new parents desperate to keep a young daughter with signs of the La Fey curse hidden from Voldemort’s view. Morgana tracked down old students in Europe who’d attended Ilvermorny and modified their memories to include her. She reached out to the Headmistress and revealed her identity and received aide in fabricating a file with MACUSA on her parent’s dual citizenship as well as a birth certificate for herself. The headmistress was surprisingly helpful, though Morgana expected that stemmed more from hero worship surrounding the myth of Morgan le Fey than anything (she had read several of the histories about her and was thoroughly unimpressed by how wrong many of the historians got it).

With her paperwork and backstory in play, Morgana began to step out into wizarding society, her background as a pureblood heir of a notoriously Dark, if neutral during the last war, family instantly drawing attention. After one memorable meeting with a Posy Parkinson in Borgin & Burkes during her first voyage into Knockturn Alley, Morgana decided to move up some of her plans and using her scrying crystals carefully crafted an ‘accidental’ meeting with the more influential of pureblood ladies, Narcissa Malfoy née Black.

            Dressed in a deep green silk dress (resembling the one she’d worn so long before in the court of Camelot) she’d purchased from her first trip in Diagon Alley, Morgana stiffened her back and pulled on the mask she’d used to so convincingly ensnare countless men into her innocent lady façade. Walking through the doors of Twilfitt and Tattings she paused carefully at the entrance as the Lady Malfoy and several other lesser known ladies flitted about. Narcissa had commandeered the owner into helping her party select gowns for the upcoming Beltane Ball held by the Greengrass’s that year. Stifling a smirk at the vacuous expressions of the other ladies as they floated around Narcissa begging for scraps of her attention, Morgana walked up to the imposing woman and offered a soft greeting.

            “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear that you were shopping for the Greengrass Beltane Ball,” Morgana paused as Narcissa turned to look at her, grey eyes narrowing at the interruption, “I’m new to London having been raised primarily in the States and though I received an invitation, forgive me, but I’m not entirely sure what a British Beltane entails, let alone a Ball.”

            A single white eyebrow rose as Narcissa took in Morgana’s hesitant questioning, and a soft smile flickered across the woman’s face.

            “You must be the Lady Le Fey who has everyone all in a state of excitement,” Narcissa halted, and a quick shark like grin flashed, “Posy Parkinson had such... interesting things to say about her encounter with you.”

            “Oh yes, I should have introduced myself, I am Morgana Le Fey,” Morgana inclined her head slightly ever so grateful for her line’s history of naming children after her, “And Lady Parkinson was most... enthusiastic when we met.”

            “Hmm, that is a word for her. Well as you’re new to London, I think you should join us for the day, I can take the time to tell you what you need to know about the ball Saturday. I take it your parents educated you about our society?” Narcissa looked over and met Morgana’s gaze, her shrewd Black eyes narrowing in at the seemingly younger woman.

            “Of course, we may have lived in the States, but they never forgot their roots. I’ve been rather lost since their deaths I’ll admit,” Morgana hung her head and thought of Gorlois once more, he’d been the best parent to her, though admittedly with the absent Vivienne and the cold Uther that wasn’t much.

            “Oh you poor dear,” Narcissa reached out and pulled her by the arm, “Come join us and let me introduce you to the others while we decide on robes.”

            Letting Narcissa pull her into the gaggle of women she internally rolled her eyes at their vapid attempts to connect with her and weasel out information for gossiping later on.

            “Oh, how lovely to meet someone who attended Ilvermorny! My cousin went there, tell me, what house were you sorted into?”

            “Horned Serpent, I’m a scholar first and foremost, and though both Thunderbird and Wampus indicated they would like me among their number, I chose to further my own intellectual skills.”

            “It must have been such a travesty to lose your parents so young, how old were you when they passed?”

            “I had just turned 21 when they were diagnosed with an advanced stage of Dragon Pox, it’s been just under a year since they died.”

            “What was the culture over there like, I’ve heard the Americans are so primitive, they let mudbloods into high positions of power in their government.”

            At that, Morgana bristled ever so slightly, and decided to carefully start laying the groundwork for her first move.

            “Mudblood? What a crass term, so unrefined,” she drawled, her eyes sparking maliciously as she went in for the kill, “As an advanced society of witches and wizards, the MACUSA outlawed such words over a hundred years ago. In fact, the concept of ‘mud’ blood has been disproven so thoroughly by many of our scholars. Tell me have you read Queenie Goldstein’s “Treatise on Inheritable Magic and the Reclamation of Old Family Lines through Squib offshoots”? It’s an enlightening read, though, perhaps some may find it a bit too... challenging.” The woman who’d made the comment shrank under Morgana’s watchful gaze as she verbally eviscerated her. “Magic is such an integral part of each and every one of us, and while I do agree that some lines are superior, the invigoration of new blood first generation witches and wizards bring is desperately needed to expand our dwindling populations. Magic isn’t infinite you know, and with fertility rates down, well we don’t want to die out in the next century.”

            “Do you truly believe the situation is that dire?” Narcissa looked over at Morgana, shock barely suppressed in her eyes.

            Lifting a hand, to take a sip of tea that the owner Madame Twilfitt had brought, Morgana locked eyes with the Black witch and nodded ever so slightly.

            “Yes, I do. I’ve run the numbers myself, and the population is declining, especially in Europe. With the last two wizarding wars decimating nearly 1/3 of the wizarding blood in Great Britain alone, well if there isn’t a change soon I fear for what might happen. Magic may take steps itself to right the situation, and that never bodes well. Though I do believe we must be selective in who we chose, when the choice is between first generation witches and wizards and those who are descended from squib lines - and yes there is a difference between the two - and non-magicals, well I’d say the choice is easy.” Finishing her speech, Morgana sat back and let free the smirk that had been lingering under the surface for the past hour. The women surrounding her were shocked, and though she knew many of them wouldn’t grasp what she had said, some, including Narcissa, had thoughtful expressions on their faces.

            Inclining her head after several moments of silence, Narcissa pulled Morgana into the group, gesturing for their assistant to bring out a fresh round of dresses. As she held a swatch of deep red fabric up against Morgana’s neck, Narcissa began to pull the woman into conversation.

            “Now, while the dress you’re wearing is lovely--green is a marvelous color on you. The length is a bit, dated. You’ll have to come shopping with me sometime, it’s been so long since I’ve had someone new to dress.”

            “Yes, I did think it was a bit excessive, but the woman who helped me,” Morgana turned and shot a delicate sneer at the assistant who was running back and forth between the other ladies, “Didn’t seem too inclined to help a nobody.”

            “You are Lady Le Fey, that’s hardly a nobody, now be a dear and try this on. It’s off the rack, but it is one of their more plebeian styles as it has several options,” thrusting a cream dress in Morgana’s arms followed by several others of varying colors.

            Morgana left to try the dress on, and was immediately displeased by the tight corseting and high necks coupled with long sleeves, she’d shown more skin at Camelot. But when she came out and showed Narcissa, the other woman ooed and awed, and she was soon coerced into trying several more that Narcissa commissioned on the spot based off the original dress. The owner was in a fit of ecstasy by the amount of money Morgana handed over by the end of the purchase, and began muttering with delight as Narcissa had her rejoin the other ladies in picking out their gowns for the Beltane Ball.

            The rest of the afternoon was spent quietly settling on dresses and retiring to Rosa Lee Teabag for a late afternoon tea. The other woman quietly dispersed over the hour until it was just Morgana and Narcissa. The Black witch had been staring rather intently at her for more than thirty minutes before she finally spoke, “There’s more to you than what meets the eye Lady Le Fey, I think I would like to see what that is.”

            Smiling at the woman’s keen observation, Morgana leaned over and placed a hand on hers, “Oh I believe I’ll enjoy being friends with you Narcissa Black, you’re fascinating.”

            Blinking at the use of her maiden name over her married one, Narcissa let a slow grin slide across her face as its implications hit her: here was a kindred spirit and a woman who didn’t let men dictate her life.

            “Yes, friends.”

ᛇ ᛇ ᛇ

            With the Lady Malfoy in her corner, Morgana’s debut at the Greengrass Beltane Ball was a huge success, and she was met with no less than fifteen invitations to tea and several subtle inquiries on courting within the following weeks. As she plotted with Narcissa and took tea with several other fascinating ladies including a Madame Bones and Professor McGonagall, she began to look towards her other true goal in breaking free of her prison.

            Holding her scrying crystal she focused her power and chanted channeling her power into the stone, “Ætíe mé þá þé ic séce.” An image fluttered across the jagged edges of the crystal, a small head of wild black hair dodging a frying pan, little, scrawny legs pounding against the pavement being cashed by a pudgy boy, and a small brown, wan face with a jagged red Sowilo cut across his forehead, emerald green eyes wet with tears.  

            Recoiling at the sheer pain reflected in his green eyes, so much like her own, Morgana sat back in her chair and sighed. The poor boy wasn’t loved in his maternal aunt’s home, in fact he was treated much like Uther had treated his servants back in Camelot, if not worse because he had magic. If it wasn’t clear they were very modern, she would have thought the Dursley’s were citizens of Camelot during the Great Purge. Clenching her fist, she felt her nails dig deep into her palm, drawing blood in her frustration. She’d been pouring over books about magical adoptions and wizarding laws to see how she could gain custody of the child, but she’d had little success. It didn’t help that the Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore, frequently told the magical public that young Harry Potter was living a happy and healthy life with a loving family. It left her little room to move in publicly and little hope for allies. She confided her suspicions with Narcissa at their daily tea later that afternoon, claiming  her knowledge was a side effect of her Le Fey curse, and the other woman had given her some old tomes on ancient laws the Wizengamot had yet to repeal.

            Pulling out the ancient tome from her bag, she ran her hands along the binding and let her magic out to find any relevant laws with efficiency. She’d discovered this trick after a two-night reading binge that left her hair lank and greasy and her eyes so bloodshot she could hardly see. After looking in the mirror and crying at the sight, so similar to what she’d looked like in the full grip of madness, she quickly whipped herself into shape. Her eyes flashed gold in the present, and the book flipped open, thumping against the table as the pages fluttered to land on a passage towards the end of the book.

            As decreed by Eldritch Diggory, Minister of Magic in 1735, following the subsequent orphaning of his nephew Fleamont Jones, any peer of Ancient or Noble Blood may take on, as wards, those orphaned heirs of other Ancient and Noble Houses. The guardians of the heirs must be of incredible magical prowess, intellect, and wealth in order to care for the future of said heir and their house. The selection process of the guardian and their ward shall be done through the discretion of the families in question, without ministry involvement (except under extreme circumstances as listed in the Index, page four hundred and sixty-two, section A). The ward in question, must have no living magical blood relations or alternative guardians before a guardian can bond with them and take them in. A simple blood oath of protection in a ritual circle shall cement this bond, and unless the guardian reneges by harming their ward, be it physically, financially, magically, emotionally, or through other various means, the bond shall be broken, and the guardian stripped of their magic. See also Griselda Longbottom’s “A Wizard’s Duty to the Young and Impressionable” for further details.

            Her magic flared, and Morgana felt the Old Religion sing in triumph as she marked down the relevant passage. As the last of the Potters, an Ancient and Noble House, as well as a descendant of Ignotus Peverell and only legitimate heir of House Peverell, Harry fit nicely into what was specified of a ward. Albus Dumbledore while listed in records as his magical guardian, wasn’t eligible as House Dumbledore was neither Ancient nor Noble, so he could not contest her claim. His position as guardian puzzled her, for he wasn’t listed in the will of James and Lily Potter from what she had seen in her visions and had no connection to Harry - be it blood or magical - outside of his position as Headmaster of Hogwarts or Chief Warlock. In fact, the more she thought on it, the more her suspicions of his placement as guardian rose, and she felt a shiver from the Old Religion. Dumbledore was going to be a problem for her when she took Harry under her wing, she’d have to plan her moves carefully, though her first priority was finding him. Dumbledore had at least done well in placing the child where no one could find him. And as far as she knew, he had no one else in the magical world to care for him, considering most of her visions had him in a non-magical environment. Narcissa hadn’t mentioned any potential guardians either, much to her chagrin.

            That night Morgana tossed and turned, her dreams fevered with images of young Harry in pain. Her body was soaked in sweat, plastering her dark curls to her forehead, her eyes flashing gold beneath her eyelids at odd intervals as she slept. Visions of smoke and flame and a cold laugh interrupted her, and she felt like she was falling, falling, falling deep into a dark, unending void that continues and continues until there’s suddenly a shock of light and the descent begins to slow and there at the end of the fall, a handsome man with red eyes was waiting for her. He smirked and reached for her, and a sense of wrongness permeated the air around her. Another man appeared, he looked exactly the same but where the first’s eyes were red, his were blue, deep blue like the waters of Avalon. He felt like sin itself, everything dark and twisted that made up her being, that drew her to fighting as a child and to the darkness as an adult.

Pulling away from him and the seductive pull of the darkness around him and his twin, she reached for the boy she’d been watching. Buffeted by a sudden onset of winds she was thrown back and forth as she tried to peer through the veil the storm caused. A flash of a belt flying in the air broke through, followed by a quiet gasping sob of a child. Rage flooded through the High Priestess, and she shoved with all her power and wrath at the storm that cloaked her and with a final heave of desperation, she caught a glimpse of a street address: Privet Drive.

ϟ ϟ ϟ

            Harry’s back ached as he knelt along the dirt in the garden, his knees shaking from the pain in his back. Uncle Vernon had broken the belt out the night before after Harry’s nursery teacher Ms. Carp called home to ask about the burns on his arms. Furious at the line of questioning right when he got home from work, Vernon ripped off his belt and laid it across his nephew’s back. Petunia walked in after the first strike and stopped him, screaming “No, Vernon that’s too far!” She sent Harry to his cupboard with a glass of water and some bread not long after that. He’d huddled in the dark trying to keep from crying as pain zinged along his back. He took his shirt off and grabbed a clean one, dipping it into the water before trying to wipe away what little blood he could. Lying on his stomach, he nibbled on the bread to try and curb the pain and fell asleep to the soft white noise of his relatives eating.

            His aunt had let him sleep in a bit that morning, before waking him up to do his chores with a glass of milk and a banana. Savoring the rare fruit, he went about the list of chores his aunt gave him until he was sitting in the afternoon heat pulling weeds from the dirt.

            Petunia watched him from the small window in the kitchen as she prepared dinner for the night. Vernon breaking out the belt and whipping the boy the night before startled her. He’d looked so enraged and while she loathed the little freak, seeing those big green eyes wide with pain reminded her too much of her mother, his grandmother who’d had them first. Setting down the knife she’d been using to dice onions for the roast, she felt a twinge of guilt as she remembered who else had such startling green eyes, like an emerald held up to a light. A knock at the door startled her from her memories, and she quickly wiped her hands before heading over to answer it. Opening the door, she felt her heart stop in her chest as she took in the woman standing on her front porch. Long dark curls, a sleek black dress cut at the knees with a cream trench coat open over it and kitten heels, the woman was a picture of sophistication, and Petunia couldn’t help the wave of inferiority that ran over her.

           Morgana calmed her magic as she took in the bony, horse faced blonde in front of her. The other woman was obviously eyeing her up and down, coming to some conclusion about her status. She wanted to reach out and throttle the woman. The Old Religion screamed at her, pain and torment, loneliness and fear, everything she felt when she discovered she had magic as an adult, but it all revolved around a small child. Holding her breath for a moment, she let it out and let her magic out with it. A crackling tension filled the space between the two women, and Morgana let herself smile.

          “Hello, my name is Morgana Le Fey, might I come in for a moment to chat?” Without waiting for a response, she pushed past the woman and stepped into her home. Walking around the now stuttering blonde, Morgana made her way into the house, before stopping just past the lounge to stare at the cupboard beneath the stairs. The Old Religion screamed at her, new magic lying just underneath it as the cupboard flared with a darkness born of neglect and abuse. Wheeling on the woman, Morgana smiled again, this time taking care to show her teeth like the predator she was. “Tell me, where is your nephew?”

          Petunia stumbled at the words of the strange woman who just forced her way into her home, who was she and why was she asking about the freak? Was she the boy’s nursery teacher who’d called the other day? Or was she, one of them?

         “He’s in the garden, he—he likes to sit in the sun on the weekends.”

         “Call him in, I would like to speak with him.”

         “Boy—Harry,” Petunia yelled, “Get in here,” never had she been more grateful that her precious Diddykins was at a playdate.

         Harry hearing his aunt, wiped his hand on his shorts and stood, shaking slightly from the pain and slowly made his way into the kitchen, careful to wipe his dirty feet on the mat before coming inside. He walked through the kitchen and around to the dining area where his aunt and another woman were standing. He squinted over at the new woman, she had dark hair like him, and green eyes too, though she was really pale. Maybe she was a distant cousin come to take him to live with her!

         “Yes Aunt Petunia,” Harry looked back to his aunt knowing his hopes were silly, no one would want a freak like him, his aunt and uncle said so all the time. 

         “This woman here—”

         “Morgana.”

         “Yes, she would like to speak with you,” his aunt finished with an odd sort of shuffle and scurried away into the kitchen. The woman, Morgana and wasn’t that a funny name, looked down at him with a weird look on her face.

         “Shall we go sit in the lounge?” Morgana gestured over to the room just off the front door, the young boy looked worse than he ever had in her visions. His face was thin and pale from what looked like malnutrition and pain. He was small, for a boy nearly five he looked to be only three.

          Nodding his head, Harry followed her into the lounge before panicking when he realized she meant for him to sit on the furniture. Not only was he dirty, but his aunt and uncle never let him sit on the couch, it wasn’t his place they said. Shaking he shook his head and went to tell her, but before he could she had sat down on the floor eye level with him, gesturing for him to do the same.

          “I figured you wouldn’t want to get the couch dirty after cleaning in here earlier,” Morgana said, her heart breaking as she watched Harry’s eyes widen and shift to the side at the mention of his chores.

           Sinking down, Harry plopped to the floor and winced, the pain in his back making his eyes water. He rubbed at his face to keep the tears from showing and looked back at the pretty woman sitting across from him.

          “Aunt Petunia said you wanted to talk to me?” he asked, trying to ignore the way she seemed to stiffen at his aunt’s name.

         “Yes, Harry. I don’t believe your aunt or uncle has told you much about your parents?”

         “No. They said they were... drunks, and that they died in a car crash,”

         “Ah,” Morgana felt the urge to break out her old torturous ways just for the Dursley’s, “Well, I’m afraid to tell you they were lying.”

         “What?” Harry gasped at her words, why would they lie? And what was the truth?

         “Your parents were very brave, like warriors in your storybooks. Have you heard of King Arthur and Camelot?” Morgana paused, equating Lily and James to her brother and his knights while helpful in explanation hurt.

         “Yeah,” Harry’s eyes lit up and he seemed to glow with excitement, “Ms. Carp read to us about it last week. King Arthur was really brave and, and he fought dragons and bad guys and his knights were all cool and Merlin was there and there was magic and…” he stopped himself as he watched Morgana giggle, a small smile on her face, she looked beautiful.

         “Yes, well your parents were like Arthur and his knights, fighting the bad guys.”

         “Really?”

         “Yes, only instead of using swords, they used magic, like Merlin,” Harry seemed to freeze at that, his eyes widening to the point Morgana felt physically pained by the cuteness.

         “Magic?”

         “Yes, magic. Your parents had it, and so do you,” her voice was quiet as she said the last bit, worried about how he would take it.

         “Magic…Like when I made the dishes all clean. And when I got the books from Dudley’s birthday? And when Aunt Petunia tried to make me wear that ugly sweater and it shrank and shrank?” His voice got progressively louder and louder as he listed examples of what the wizarding world called ‘accidental’ magic. Nodding her head, Morgana couldn’t help but grin at the sheer exuberance the boy showed at learning about the magical world.

         “Yes, exactly like those things.”

         “Are you magic too?” Harry cocked his head and looked up at her from beneath his eyelashes.

         “I am, as a matter of fact. Which is why I am here actually,” leaning in close, Morgana whispered to him, “I have a secret power and it let me to you.”

         “Whoa, really? Why me?”

         “Because the Old Religion has plans for you, you’re a very special boy Harry.”

         “I am? And what’s the Old—Religiony thing?”

         “Oh yes, you are. And the Old Religion is what all magic comes from, it’s the source of life itself. It lives in everything, the earth, the grass, you, me.” Morgana laughed as Harry fumbled around for what to say next.

         “So cool,” Harry mumbled as he looked at her, magic was real and his parents were magic and so was he and so was the pretty lady, “Could you... could you show me some magic?”

        His shy question kindled a part of Morgana she’d long thought buried, thoughts of the daughter she gave away at Morgause’s bequest all those years before rising to the surface. Ruthlessly squashing her memories, she reminded herself that the past was the past and that she needed to focus on Harry now.

        Lifting her hand, she turned her palm upward and muttered “Blóstmá.” A pale white lily appeared on her palm. Harry gasped and let out a small giggle as he reached for the flower. “Go on,” Morgana urged him, “You can touch it.”

        Taking the flower gently from her hand, Harry ran his fingers along the smooth surface of the petals, they were so soft. He lifted the flower to his nose and sniffed it, the soft sweet smell making him smile and feel warm inside.

        “That’s a lily. Your mother’s name was Lily,” Morgana told him.

        “It was?”

        “Yes, Lily Evans, and when she married your father James, she became Lily Potter.”

        “Lily. My mum’s name was Lily. And my da’s was James,” this was beyond the magic reveal and the fact his parents were warriors, he knew their names now!

        “Yes, they were,” Morgana held back tears at the wonder-filled expression on Harry’s face, this little boy deserved the world and had received nothing but scorn and abuse. Twitching her fingers, Morgana felt the urge to show him more magic. Seeing a book lying on the edge of the coffee table next to them, she turned to it and said, “Oþfiel æstel!”

          Harry burst into laughter as the book slid off the table and onto the floor, it was magic! Morgana’s eyes faded from gold to green and she laughed with him, her mind running through a list of spells to try to keep the smile on Harry’s face.

            “Forbearnan.” Fire sprung to life in her palm, dancing along the surface of her skin, Harry leaned in, entranced by the way the flames flickered with each tilt of her hand.

            The sudden slamming of the front door behind them and a loud bellow of “No! None of that freakishness, we swore we’d stamp that out of him,” extinguished the flames and sent a sudden chill down Harry’s spine.

            The house became quiet, and Morgana rose to her feet in a slow, sluggish movement. Turning to face the whale of a man Harry had the misfortune of calling an uncle, Morgana drew on every breath of patience she’d learned over the last thousand years of imprisonment and arched an eyebrow saying, “What did you just say?”

            “You heard me, I’ll have none of that freakishness in my house. I want you out! It’s bad enough the boy is dumped on us, but this strangeness is too much, its affecting my family and I won’t have it,” Vernon’s face flushed as he yelled, veins throbbing along his neck and at his temple, it would be so easy for Morgana to kill him, one word and he’d be dead, but she needed him alive, for the moment.

            “Well it seems Mr. Dursley that we have some common ground,” Morgana drawled to Harry’s shock.

            “What?” The man in question blustered, seeing the woman in front of him face to face, he inwardly cursed, such beauty had to be wasted on those freaks.

            “I said we have some common ground, you want this—freakishness out of your home, and I happen to have come here for that purpose,” twisting her right hand, Morgana produced the guardianship transfer papers she’d been working on since she discovered Harry’s location, getting testimony from his nursery teacher and several others to back his immediate placement in her care. Humans and their adoption system were ridiculously complex, thankfully a few spells here and there smoothed the way for her. “I have papers here, ready for you and your wife’s signature remanding young Harry here into my custody, all you need to do is sign, and you will never see or hear from him or anyone else of our... kind again.”

            Reaching for the papers, Vernon snatched them from her hands, his small eyes bulging out as he noted their legitimacy. Storming into the kitchen he began searching for a pen, all he had to do was sign and the freak would be gone, it was the perfect solution.

            “Wait,” Petunia interrupted, wringing her hands she turned to Morgana and took a step towards the woman, “You aren’t… you aren’t going to harm him, are you?”

            “Unlike some, I do not harm children nor innocents, and Harry here is both,” Morgana snarled, her eyes shifting gold for a second.

            “Pet darling, you heard her, just sign the papers and they’ll be gone,” Vernon coaxed his wife towards the papers, his signature fresh on the pages Morgana had tabbed for them.

            “I…” Petunia looked over at her nephew still seated on the ground, his bright green eyes bouncing back and forth between the adults in the room, “Alright.” Taking the pen from her husband, Petunia scrawled her name along the dotted line, closing her eyes as she felt a wave of something resembling guilt hit her.

            With the final signature marked, Morgana quickly lashed out with her magic as the Blood Wards surrounding the home began to sag. Copying the spell work, she created a secondary illusion of the wards that would fool anybody walking by, she couldn’t have Dumbledore running over and ruining her plans so soon. Turning to face Harry, Morgana let a genuine smile cross her face, he looked so confused yet hopeful, it shook her to the core.

            “You want to be my guardian, why?”

            “As of this moment, I am your guardian,” Morgana knelt down to look him in the eye, “And as for why, because you deserve love Harry Potter, and I’d like to think I can give that to you, if you wish?”

            “But, why me?” Harry tried to hold the tears back, he didn’t want to say no but he was so confused.

            “Oh Harry,” Morgana leaned over and hugged him to her, gently holding him in her arms as she whispered the one thing she wished Uther had told her when he took her in as his ward, “You have only ever deserved to be loved.” Harry let out a small sob as he wrapped his arms around her in return and buried his head in her hair. Touched at his outburst, Morgana began to stroke a hand down his back. A whimper of pain reached her, and she felt Harry reflexively cringe away. Morgana’s mind flashed back to the visions she’d had two nights previously and knew that those visions had come true. Holding her frayed temper in check, Morgana pulled back from Harry and helped him stand up.

            “Gather whatever you would like to take with you, we’ll leave momentarily.” Bouncing on his toes, Harry broke out into a smile as he turned to his cupboard to do just that. Striding to the kitchen, Morgana snatched the signed papers from the counter and leveled a glare at the Dursley’s, “I know that you have neglected him, abused him, both physically and emotionally, and I tell you this now: I will ruin you. It may not be today or tomorrow but I will, mark my words.” Morgana laughed at the suddenly horrified expressions, Petunia bone white and close to fainting, Vernon spluttering and red, “The best part of it all,” Morgana continued, smirking at the scent of fear in the air, “Is that I won’t have to lift one magical finger, I’ll do it all without magic. You’ve made your bed you wretched creatures, and I will delight in seeing you burn in it.” Footsteps alerted her to Harry’s incoming presence and so she let out one final chilling laugh, her eyes dancing with more than a hint of madness as she leaned forward towards the Dursley’s and whispered, “Boo,” they recoiled and fell into each other as she turned away with another cackle.

            Harry rounded the corner and stood waiting for her, a shoe box in his hands and a worn rucksack over his shoulders that he nicked from Dudley. Morgana held out a hand for him to take and he eagerly grabbed ahold of it. Together they walked out the front door and into the street, Morgana guiding him to the town car waiting for them across the street from Number 4, Privet Drive. Turning back to look at the house he’d lived in for the past four years, Harry felt something rush through him—he was leaving, and felt something like... like happiness.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five: Learning to Love

           Harry leaned against the door of the car watching the streets pass by as they headed off to their new home. When he’d woke that morning all he knew was pain and he didn’t think it would ever end. And then suddenly, this beautiful woman was there telling him about his parents and magic and was taking him away to a new home. He still didn’t understand why she would want him. Even if he was magic like her, he was still a freak, why else would the Dursley’s have told him so?

           Morgana looked down at her small charge sitting next to her, his tiny frame curled into the car door as he looked out the window. She wondered if she should perform the guardianship ritual tonight, or if she should wait a bit for him to become more comfortable with her. Realistically she knew she was rushing into this, though she’d been planning to save him for years, the vision of the belt and Harry crying spurred her into action far sooner than what she had anticipated. She’d wanted to approach him slowly, get him used to her, and then offer guardianship, but she couldn’t leave him there after feeling his pain and loneliness and seeing how the Dursleys treated him.

           “We’ll be arriving at my home shortly, is there anywhere you wish to stop first?” Morgana asked, laying a hand gently on his shoulder.

           “Umm, like what?” Harry didn’t know what she meant.

           “Well if you would like we could stop for some food? Any favorites of yours?”

           “Oh. No…no I’m okay. Whatever you like is good.”

           “Harry, living with me will not be like your aunt and uncles. I will not punish you for saying what you do or do not want. Money is not an issue either,” Morgana paused as her new charge looked up at her, his eyes shining, “Whatever it is you want you may have…within reason of course.”

           “So, does that mean I can’t have a pony?” Harry’s cheeky grin sent Morgana into a fit of laughter, her rich chuckles sending a wave of warmth through the small boy.

           “No, no ponies, at least not in the London home. Are you sure you don’t want to stop for any food? Dinner will be a while off yet.”

           “Yes, I’m okay…but maybe some tea, when we get there?” He looked up at her from beneath his lashes.

           “We shall have some afternoon tea when we arrive then, and perhaps a light snack to tide you over before dinner,” Morgana looked down at his meager possessions on his lap and made a mental note to take him shopping as soon as possible. New clothes, toys, books, she took a look at his hair, and perhaps a haircut. She’d have to get a list from Narcissa of the best places to shop for a young boy, goddess knows the woman was constantly spoiling her own son with gifts.

           The car soon came to a stop along Corvus Lane, and Morgana and Harry hopped out. Paying the driver handsomely for his time, Morgana turned and took Harry by the hand, guiding him to where Number 7 lay. Leaning down she whispered the secret of the location in his ear, thankful once more that Merlin had the foresight to put the Fidelus charm on the house; it was far more powerful than most new magic spells and she had the suspicion he had created it using the Old Religion.

           Walking through the front door of what he guessed was his new home, Harry felt a wave of energy flood over him, making the hair on his arms stand up and his already wild head of hair stand like he’d been electrocuted. Magic! It had to be. He broke out into a huge grin as he reached up to smooth his hair down, grateful Morgana had taken his stuff from him as his back twanged in pain. The hallway lit up with warm sconce lights and Harry held back a gasp as he looked around, the paintings along the walls of knights in shining armor reminded him of the story she was telling him earlier that day.

           “Who’re they?”

           “Oh,” Morgana stopped and looked down at Harry, debating on telling him the truth. As she looked at his eager expression, her decision was made for her, “They’re old friends of mine, the Knights of the Round Table, of Camelot.”

           “Really? But that was so long ago, you must be really, really old,” Harry replied.

           “Yes, I am,” Morgana tried not to smile as she guided him further down the hall into her solar.

           Tilting his head as she sat him down in a chair and sent for an elf to bring them tea and snacks, Harry looked at the massive portrait hanging above the fireplace. It was of a man with golden hair, his piercing blue eyes seemed to stare at Harry and judge him.

           “Who’s that?” Following Harry’s gaze, Morgana felt her insides twist.

           “That is Arthur, King Arthur. My brother.”

           “Oh…you don’t really look alike.”

           “Yes…we had different mothers, he took after his mother and I took after mine,” Morgana trailed off as Bitty popped in and began to set the tea and snacks down, “Milk and sugar? I hope you like cucumber sandwiches.” Bitty met her eyes and set a small pot down across from the tea set before popping away.

           Harry nodded his head and accepted the cup from Morgana, savoring the warmth that seeped into his hands from the cup. He didn’t want to tell her, but the very idea of food, any food was making his stomach roar with hunger. Taking a sip of the tea, he smiled, it was just right! Picking up a sandwich from the tray in front of him his hand hovered in front of his mouth, did she really mean he could eat it, or was she going to take it away like Uncle Vernon used to.

           A pained look crossed Morgana’s face as she watched Harry stop himself from taking a bite, inclining her head to the sandwich she urged him to eat, pleased when he finally took a bite. His eyes shuttered closed as he bit into the sandwich and the look of pure pleasure that crossed his face as he chewed brought a smile to her face that she quickly hid behind her tea cup.

           They ate in silence for a while, Morgana carefully watching Harry as he put away three small sandwiches and a cup of tea. She’d have to tell Bitty to portion his dinner, so he didn’t overeat. After he’d finished his second cup of tea, Morgana decided to address the issue that had been bothering her since they left the Dursley’s.

           “Harry…” she wasn’t sure if she should try and soften her words or be blunt, after a moment of hesitation, she settled in the middle, “I know life wasn’t always the best for you at Privet Drive, I—I’ve seen it. I have visions, and I had them of you. I know your uncle hit you with his belt.”

           Harry jumped in his chair, he’d hoped she hadn’t noticed, he was a big boy, and big boys didn’t cry about their pun-ishmen-ts. He stumbled over the word as he thought it, he’d read it in one of the books he’d taken from Dudley’s second bedroom. Shifting in his seat he looked over at Morgana and she didn’t look mad…or mean, she was actually frowning?

           “I uh…”

           “Are you comfortable taking your shirt off to show me?” Morgana watched as he looked down, his eyes on the floor as he mumbled something, “What was that?”

           “I guess, why do you wanna see?”

           “I would like to try and heal it, if I can?” her hands slid across the table towards his, gently resting on his small fingers.

           “Uh…you can do that?”

           “Yes, I’m not too bad at healing.”

           “I guess…” Harry gave a half shrug and sat forward on the edge of his seat before slowly lifting the shirt over his shoulders, thankful it was one of Dudley’s castoffs and too big to rub against his back. Taking the shirt from him, Morgana urged him to stand up and turn around. His legs shook a bit as he stood and slowly turned around. Holding back a gasp, Morgana snarled internally, his back was covered in inflamed streaks of red, deep purple bruising along the edges of each lash, an imprint of the buckle was near the base of his neck. Dried blood was speckled across the surface off his back, mingling with fresh drops from his movements. Cursing under her breath Morgana mentally adjusted her plans for revenge on the Dursley’s, what she’d had planned was too light for people who treated children like this, not even Uther was that bad. Although burning them alive wasn’t exactly humane either, she mentally edited her opinion, Uther would have gotten along great with the Dursley’s.

      Conjuring a camera with her wand, Morgana quickly snapped a few photos as evidence and vanished it before he could question her. Grabbing the pot Bitty had left on the table earlier, she opened it up and dipped her fingers in the thick green paste. She’d spent the last month learning and preparing potions and tinctures from new magic books, as well as some of the ones she used to know. Spreading the paste between her fingers she reached over and began to coat the welts along Harry’s back, gently dabbing on the medicine. After liberally applying it to the affected areas of his back, she wiped her hands off on a napkin and steeled herself. Stretching her hands towards his back, she incanted, “Ahlúttre þá séocnes. Þurhhæle bræd,” her eyes flashing gold as the spell began to heal his back.

     Soon his back was clear of any injury, thin white lines the only hint that he’d been hurt before. Lowering her hands, Morgana reached over and took a sip of tea, thankful Bitty had the foresight to leave a small shot of Firewhiskey so she could spike it after healing him.

     “I’m done. It’s healed, it should be sore for the next day or so but nowhere nearly as painful,” turning around Harry beamed up at her, twisting his torso to and fro, happy at the sudden lack of pain.

     “Thank you!”

     “Now that that is done, how about I show you your room so you can put your stuff away and when we’re done doing that, Bitty should have dinner ready,” Morgana rose and held out a hand and Harry eagerly took it.

     Together they walked up the stairs just off the parlor to the third level where most of the bedrooms were. Taking him down to the room just next to hers, Morgana paused outside the door, exhaling slowly as she wondered if he’d like the room, she’d asked Narcissa for design tips, but she wasn’t particularly artistic. Pushing the door open she led Harry inside, standing awkwardly in the door as he walked around.

     Harry looked around his new room, it was huge! Way bigger than Dudley’s second bedroom, or even his first, and so much bigger than the cupboard under the stairs. The walls were a soft white, like when he mixed cake batter for Aunt Petunia. The bed took up most of the space and what wasn’t bed was shelves upon shelves of books. He walked up to the bed and ran a hand along the soft blue sheets, they felt so nice against his skin, it would be like sleeping on a cloud. The entire bed looked like the sky, a mix of blues and whites for blankets and pillows. And there were toys against the pillows! A stuffed grey wolf and stuffed white dragon. There was another door off to the side of the bed and one in between the bookshelves. Looking back at Morgana he tried to thank her, but the words caught in his throat. Swallowing he tugged on the edge of his shirt, winding his hand in the extra fabric as he peeked up at the woman who took him away from the Dursley’s and gave him such a nice room.

     “Thank you,” he whispered, managing to get the words out after a minute of silence.

     “You’re very welcome Harry,” Morgana stepped forward and gestured towards the two doors, “One of those leads to the bathroom, and the other to your closet. I’m afraid there aren’t many clothes in there so we’ll have to go shopping tomorrow, if that’s alright with you.”

     Nodding his head, Harry wandered around the room some more, comfortable in the silence between the two of them. Questions began to surface as he tried to read some of the book titles on the shelves. Cautiously, he moved towards the bed and watched Morgana as he went to sit down on it. Smiling she inclined her head at him, and so he sank deeper onto the plush bedding beneath him, sighing at the weight off his back. Reaching over to the toys, he picked up the small wolf, it looked so cool, and he felt a rush of something through him as he pulled it onto his lap before looking up at Morgana to ask her some of his questions.

     “You said that my parents were magic, and you showed me magic. But…how do people not know about it? And…and you said my parents were like knights and so they fought bad guys?” his questions had Morgana suppressing a smile, he was so—eager. She knew from the injuries she’d healed and the way he looked to her for permission for things that it would be a long time before he was truly comfortable around her, but the level of trust he’d shown in just one day, it was heartwarming. Making eye contact with him, she held his emerald gaze as she slowly made her way over to the bed and sat down across from him. Straightening her skirt, she smiled softly at him and thought of how to answer it.

      “Well, to answer your first question, magic is complicated. I mentioned before that there are different types of magic. The Old Religion is the source of all life, it lives in everything and everyone, though some like me are born with the ability to access it and control it in some ways. It is magic, but in the purest and in some people’s eyes, the most powerful form of it. New magic, or wand magic is what people primarily practice these days,” she paused and pulled out the wand she’d bought at Ollivander’s the week prior. Fingering the wood, she remembered her strange encounter with the man.

        It was her second trip into Diagon Alley after meeting Narcissa Malfoy née Black, after the woman had commented on her lack of a wand. Brushing off the keen observation with a small tale about breaking her last one in an incident involving customs, a manticore, and a very belligerent American wizard, Morgana accepted the referral of Ollivander’s and marked the task in her mental to-do list. Now as she walked down the cobblestone paths of Diagon Alley towards the wandmakers shop, she felt a curious remnant of the Old Religion emanate from it. Golden light seemed to shine through in a series of fluctuating waves as she stepped forward, a soft and warm embrace that caressed her as she stepped inside.

        Looking around the shop, she took note of the dusty shelving along the walls, boxes upon boxes stacked on top of each other. The window display was of a plush purple pillow with a singular wand nestled in the center. Taking a step towards it, Morgana stiffened as she registered the presence of another in the shop with her.

       “Hello, Morgana Le Fey, or should I say Morgana Pendragon. I have to say I never imagined I would have you in my shop,” the soft voice sent a silent chill down her spine as she turned around to see the old man behind her, eyes bright as he scanned her form. Sneering at his perusal, she felt the urge to curse him for his blatant judging, but she shoved it down as she mustered a response.

       “Yes well, I did not intend to use such a primitive source of magic, but needs must,” giving a Gallic shrug she locked eyes with the wandmaker until he nodded his head and gestured her over to begin the selection process. Muttering under his breath as the tape measurer floated around her getting her measurements, Morgana felt her power stir inside with a soft sigh.

       “Here,” Ollivander appeared right next to her with an open box in his hands, the wand inside a gleaming white oak, “try this.”

       Picking up the wand, Morgana felt her magic recoil and the wand went shooting from her hand, flying across the small shop to land beneath the shelves across from her. Glaring at her, Ollivander began to mutter even more, and thus began the two-hour venture in picking a wand. Morgana smirked as the man bustled to and from, his hands twitching at each failure, she was a High Priestess of the Old Religion, a normal wand, used to only simple new magic could never contain her power.

       After the clock marked the second hour of the search, Ollivander came out from the back door that led to his workshop and thrust a wand into her hands.

     “Here, this was made by my father when he discovered a cache of Phoenix feathers in a hidden tomb along the Nile. Different than normal Phoenix tail feathers, these were of the Egyptian Bennu breed, a phoenix older than any who have gifted us wandmakers tail feathers in the last six hundred years. They were a blue grey color, with golden tips. That’s at the core of this wand, and my father encased it in black walnut, a most curious combination.” Locking his eyes with Morgana she felt her power respond to the piece of wood in her hands. “Most curious as the black walnut is generally used for masters of good instincts and powerful insights. The wood isn’t easy to master as its attuned to even the innermost self-doubt and inner conflict. It will lose power if one practices self-deception, but if paired with a sincere, self-aware owner, it is one of the most loyal—most impressive woods, and particularly good for charmwork. Now yours here is thirteen inches, a respectable length and its supple flexibility hints at a willingness to adapt and change depending on the situations. Adding in these details to the history of the phoenix tail feathers, phoenixes are normally known for being extremely picky in choosing their witch or wizard and as such are the hardest to tame. They can offer the greatest range of magic, and with this specific type, the Bennu were associated with both creation and the god Ra as well as rebirth and Osiris. As such I can see this being particularly good at transfiguration and transmogrification.”

      Intrigued by the history, yet ultimately annoyed at the concept of being bound to a stick to produce magic, Morgana handed the man his payment and left the shop quickly. She stored the wand in a holster along her wrist and apart from practicing some minor summoning and banishing charms for ease of use, she rarely used it.

     Bringing herself back to the present, Morgana continued with her explanation.

     “Wand magic falls into several categories that often overlap, charms, hexes and jinxes, and transfiguration, and these categories are separated into different classes. Most wizards and witches in Great Britain go to Hogwarts, a school in Scotland for their magical education. Your parents went there and you will too after your 11^th birthday.”

     “Is that what you were doing earlier? Did you go to—Hogwarts?”

     “Partly, I admit I am not the most skilled in New Magic as I am mostly self-taught and got my wand a week or so ago. And no, I’ve never been to…Hogwarts,” Morgana hoped he hadn’t noticed her pause before labeling the school, if her suspicions about its true origins were correct, then she had indeed been there before.

     “When can I get a wand? Can I do magic like you?” Harry leaned forward as he thought about what she’d said.

     “You’ll get one when you turn 11 like all other practitioners of New Magic…and yes, I do believe you have the ability to use the Old Religion, there’s something about you, it drew me to you,” lifting a hand she went to run her fingers through his hair, but as he flinched at the sudden movement, she lowered it to her lap. “As to your earlier questions about your parents being knights, from what I’ve seen in my visions and the information I gathered, they were part of a secret Order during the last wizarding war in Europe, specifically Britain, against the Dark Lord Voldemort.” Trying not to scoff at the ridiculous name, Morgana watched Harry’s eyes widen at her words before continuing, “They were by all accounts, brave and very much in love, and they died protecting you. They loved you very much Harry.”

      Tears pooled at the edges of his eyes as he sniffled and curled in on himself. For so long the Dursley’s had told him that his parents were good for nothing drunks, that he was a burden dropped on them, and he had felt unloved and alone. Now this woman who came in and saved him, healed him, gave him such a cool room, and she knew about his parents. They were heroes! And they loved him.

      “I don’t know too much about your family outside of that, once we’re done getting clothes and other necessities in the next few days, I’ll make an appointment at Gringotts the Wizarding Bank to see about your parents wills and accounts,” Morgana stood and swallowed her sympathy, knowing he would see it as pity, “Now I think it is time for dinner, shall we head down and eat? You can ask more questions then.”

      Standing up next to her, Harry scrubbed his fists over his eyes before following her down the hall and down the flight of stairs into the kitchen. Dinner was spent in a give and take of questions as Harry learned more about what Morgana knew of the Wizarding World, and Morgana got a deeper glimpse into Harry’s childhood with the Dursleys. All too soon, Harry was nodding off at the table. Calling for Bitty, Morgana had the elf help her wash him up and put him in his sleeping clothes before gently tucking him into bed. Sound asleep, he curled into the wolf he’d favored earlier, a murmur crossing his lips as he did. Stepping back, Morgana blinked at the rush of water welling behind her eyes, the maternal instincts she’d buried long ago, present and rearing their head with a fierce viciousness. She would fight anyone and everyone to protect this boy.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six: Step by Step

           Holding tight to Morgana’s hand, Harry gaped at the massive white stone walls of the bank. Their shopping trips the day before left him in a nice, grey button-down shirt and creased black slacks. Morgana had cooed over how cute he’d looked when he tried them on in the store, his big green eyes wide and panicked, and she’d laughed and mussed his hair and had him try on another outfit. Today though, she guided him through an empty pub and through a magic brick wall that moved at her touch. They were going to the bank to find out more about his parents.

           Walking through the double doors, Morgana guided Harry to the Head Goblin, her hands hovering over his shoulder as she powered the glamor on the chain around his neck. Though he was so small and not easily noticed, she worried about the notoriety of the Boy-Who-Lived and she’d yet to explain that aspect of his past to him. Seeing their approach, Steelfang stepped down from his pedestal and ushered them into the back to a private room, before disappearing again, hopefully readying the inheritance test as per her instructions the night before.

          Morgana ran a hand through her hair, fingers sliding through the curls as they waited for Steelfang. Harry was bouncing from foot to foot, his anxiety clear. Watching him squirm, she felt guilty, she’d forgotten how young he truly was and while he could act his age at some moments, his maturity and intelligence often led to her forgetting he wasn’t quite 5 years old. Finally, Steelfang appeared from a hidden door, his clawed hands holding a familiar parchment and dagger.

         “Here boy, prick your finger on this and let the blood fall on the parchment,” Steelfang thrust the implements at Harry.

         Rolling her eyes at the goblin’s brusque treatment, Morgana took hold of the paper and turned to look down at her ward.

         “Would you like me to do it Harry? It won’t hurt too much, and unfortunately it is necessary to confirm your identity.”

         Shrugging, Harry took the dagger to his finger and pierced the flesh before she could take it from him, blood welled to the surface and began to drip onto the parchment she quickly slid beneath his hands.

        Blood pooled along the surface of the parchment before forming distinct lines to show Harry’s heritage.

Harry James Potter-

James Charlus Potter and Lily Marie Evans-Potter (parents)

(Lord Sirius Orion Black (blood-adopted father)

Godfather- (Lord) Sirius Orion Black

Godmother- Lady Alice Charlotte Longbottom neé Smith

Heir of House Potter (unclaimed) through patrilineal line

Heir Presumptive of House Black (unclaimed and uncontested) through blood-adoption

Ward of Morgana Le Fey of House Pendragon pending Blood Ritual

Heir of House Peverell (unclaimed and uncontested) through patrilineal line

Descendant of House Gryffindor through patrilineal line

Descendant of House Le Fey through matrilineal line

          Blinking at the results and the extensive lists of heirships and descendancy, Morgana couldn’t help the jolt of her heart in her chest at the reveal of his connection to her own house. Long buried thoughts of the daughter she’d born in her year in exile training with Morgause, her daughter whom she’d entrusted to the Druids, her daughter who grew up as the antithesis of everything her mother had stood for, her beautiful Alannah, who she’d watched from afar until the day she died. She’d married and had children of her own while Morgana was entombed, and she died long before Morgana could meet her again. Harry was her descendant though, he was of her blood, the blood of her daughter.

          Harry was overwhelmed by the words created from his blood, he was grateful he’d got extra lessons after nursery from his teacher. She’d seen his desire to read early on and helped him learn leaps and bounds beyond the kids in his age group. Seeing the words say he was the son of James and Lily Potter was wonderful, but seeing that he was connected to Morgana, his savior, by more than just the wardship papers she’d signed, but through blood, it made something swell in him, something warm and happy.

          Steelfang had disappeared after seeing the results, reappearing quickly with Ragnök to discuss what had been revealed.

          “As it is clear that young Mr. Potter here is the son and heir of House Potter, I can prepare statements of the holdings of House Potter to send to you at a later date. Would you like to visit the main vaults, the trust vault, or the ancient vaults today?” Ragnök asked, his eyes peering into Harry’s.

          “Why don’t we visit the main vaults, I would like to see if his parents left a will. We will also be performing the wardship ritual there. May I ask a question about his status as Heir Peverell? I assume his father was heir as well, why does it state it was unclaimed and uncontested?” Morgana replied.

         “Good good, follow me,” following Ragnök to a cart that pulled up along the tracks, Morgana laid a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder as the goblin continued, “For such an ancient line, more than just a simple blood test must be done to claim headship, Mr. Potter here would have to prove to magic itself that he is worthy of the status. House Peverell practiced the Old Religion, they were one of the last houses to do so and their union with House Gryffindor weaned them of such power until they became practitioners of solely New Magic.”

         “Ah, these tests have been quite, revelatory, I assume now knowing that Harry is of House Le Fey, the ward adoption ritual shall go smoothly. Do you know if his late mother knew of our shared heritage?” Morgana added, the similarity between their brilliant green orbs had not passed her by, and through her visions she knew he’d inherited them from his mother.

         “The late Lady Potter never had the blood test done so I cannot accurately attest to this, but I would hazard a guess that it is true, she was a bright witch. And yes, I do believe so,” Ragnök replied as the cart came to a halt in front of an ornate golden door.

         The door was a deep gold, burnished in flames and age, the motto of House Potter in Latin emblazoned across the top: semper humilem, semper fortis. Always humble, always brave. Morgana whispered the translation into his ear as Ragnök produced the vault key from a pocket and unlocked the massive door.

         The door swung open, revealing a large cavern filled with gold and chests, much to Harry’s surprise. He was rich! Walking into his vault, he tried to contain his excitement. Even though Morgana had bought him new clothes the day before, he’d felt guilty, she didn’t need to, didn’t have to, he was just Harry, the boy from the cupboard under the stairs, but now he could pay her back!

         Striding past Harry, Morgana ushered Ragnök in with them, saying “I would like to see the Potter’s will if it is here. I will set up the ritual in their ritual circle in the meantime.”

         Ragnök walked over to the bureau where he remembered last seeing the will as Morgana made her way to the ritual circle along the southern wall of the cavern. Her eyes flashed gold and the candles that encircled the Potter runes lit one by one. Harry gasped as he watched her wandlessly and wordlessly light the candles.

        “Come here Harry, we need to do the Wardship Blood Ritual to cement the bond and keep anyone from trying to refute it. It will also allow me to read your parents will.”

         Harry joined Morgana in the center of the circle as Ragnök walked towards them, a thick scroll in his hands that Morgana assumed was the Potter’s will.

         “Would you consent to be our witness Ragnök?” Morgana asked, her eyes narrowing in on the goblin’s fang filled grin.

         “It would be my honor, as Director of Gringotts to oversee such a ritual. It has been many years since any wizard has used the designated ritual circles in their vaults. The magic generated shall greatly strengthen the wards with you and the Boy-Who-Lived as participants.”

         “Then let us begin, Harry could you take my hands,” holding out her hands, the boy in question blinked at her, his green eyes shuddering before he laid his hands in her loose grasp. “Ego Morgana Le Fey Domus Dei Pendragon, Accipe Puerum, Harry James Potter Domus Dei Potter, Sub Meo Praesidio Magicae. Et Ego Custodire Eum, Da Ei Tectumque, Et Amo Illum Ut Mea. Testor Ego Sum, Magicae Meis In Vita Mea.” Golden light swirled around their combined hands as the magical oath took effect, the cut on Harry’s hand reopening as Morgana’s own hands began to bleed slightly, their ichor mixing in a flash of white light. Morgana’s eyes sparkled gold as did Harry’s as the Old Religion added its own blessing to the New Magic oaths.

        The wardship bond between the two thrummed with power, now solidified in magic as it was in paper. Harry looked up at his new guardian, a small smile breaking across his face as his eyes sparkled. He was wanted, really and truly wanted. Magic confirmed it. Morgana let a small smile of her own cross her face as Harry beamed up at her, his eyes twins of her own, deep green, like the rich fields of Camelot after a rainstorm. She’d heard the mutter of killing curse green eyes when the idiot Professor left him with his—relatives.

        “Thank you,” Harry’s words startled her out of her thoughts, she’d been planning her rather grisly revenge on the Dursley’s.

         “What? Little one?” the endearment fell from her lips without conscious thought.

         “Thank you, for…for wanting me, no one’s ever wanted me before…” he trailed off as Morgana gave a soft gasp before pulling him towards her in a gentle hug, her arms winding around his back as she sank closer to her level.

         “Now that the ritual has been completed, the paperwork including the documents signed by a Mrs. Petunia Dursley will be filed with the correct authorities. I assume you will want them to be buried so as to avoid rousing public speculation?” Ragnök’s voice startled them from their embrace.

         Pulling back from her charge, Morgana straightened her skirt and nodded at the Director, taking the proffered will from his hands. Sliding a nail beneath the wax seal, the Potter crest and family motto embossed within the melted red wax cracking open at the sharp edge, she unfurled the letter and felt the tingle of magic authenticating it.

This is the following Will and Testament of one Lord James Charlus Potter and one Lady Lily Marie Potter neé Evans. We confirm this will of sound minds and bodies and charge the executor of the will, one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore to execute it to the letter lest magic judge him.

I Lily Potter, leave my personal vault and all my research to my son Harry James Potter to be given to him upon his 17 ^th birthday. Our good friend, Remus John Lupin is allowed access to the research in the vault, though it shall return to the vault at the end of every month for security purposes.

I James Potter, leave my personal vault along with all family vaults to my son Harry James Potter to be given to him upon his 17 ^th birthday. Our good friends, Sirius Orion Black and Remus John Lupin are allowed access on the basis of using anything gathered for the purposes of raising Harry.

On the subject of raising our son, the primary guardian of Harry is to be his godfather, Sirius Orion Black. In the event that Sirius cannot take care of Harry, he is to go to his godmother Alice Longbottom and her husband Frank Longbottom to be raised with their son Neville. If neither of Harry’s godparent’s can take him in, he is to be raised by Remus John Lupin (Moony we love you, your furry little problem doesn’t mean anything, we know you’d do right by Harry). After Remus, Harry’s care should be left in the hands of the following people whom we trust absolutely: Minerva McGonagall and Andromeda Tonks neé Black and her husband Edward Tonks.

Under no circumstances is Harry to be left with my sister Petunia Dursley or that whale of a husband of hers. She may be my sister, but she’s long since disowned me for my magic and I have no doubt she would do the same to my son.

To our friends, Sirius we leave you access to the Potter vaults for Harry’s care, and access to his Trust Vault when he turns 11 for money for Hogwarts. We also leave you Potter Hide-away in the Netherlands, we know how much you enjoyed vacationing there. Remus, we leave you a monthly income of 20 galleons (accept it and move on, brooding over charity is ridiculous Moony), to be effected once the will is read. Peter, we leave you nothing, because if this will is being read, then we are dead, and you betrayed us you sniveling little rat (Lily dear calm down) we trusted you, not just with our lives but our son’s! Nine years of friendship, do they mean nothing Wormtail (James dear we don’t have time for this).

Lastly, Harry our darling boy, if you are reading this then we are gone, but know that it is not your fault. We love you so much, you are our darling boy and we would burn the world to keep you alive. We only wish that Voldemort had not turned his eyes towards you, if he had not we would have run away with you long before now. But Dumbledore has insisted that running will do nothing in the face of that madman’s pursuit. Live your life Harry, live it to the fullest. Be loved and love in return. Be happy our darling boy. Resurrect the Marauder glory Harry (Really James).

We love you Harry, love you beyond the moon and stars.  

Lord James Charlus Potter and Lady Lily Marie Potter neé Evans

         Oh…how curious. Morgana’s mind raced as she took in the rushed will of the late James and Lily Potter. Harry had a godfather, but for some reason he hadn’t been taking care of Harry. And there were several others in line to do so. If the will had been read before now…he wouldn’t have lived in that hell. But it wasn’t, for whatever reason the old man left it unread and that was something quite troubling. Nodding her thanks at the Director as he snapped his fingers to make a second copy, she turned to look at Harry. The four soon to be five-year-old had busied himself as she read, digging through chests to unearth necklaces and rings, heirlooms of his house.

          “Could you make a copy of this for me? And do you know if, now that it’s been read, copies of this are filed anywhere?” Morgana asked Ragnök as she joined her charge. Though she now knew there were people living better suited to care for him, she’d searched and searched for a loophole in the adoption processes of the magical world and finding the wardship clause that Gwen had used for Gwaine’s child led her to the blood ritual of protection and guardian papers she’d had the Dursley’s sign. While not being the same as adopting him, she had effectively taken him into her house under her protection and she would not be getting rid of him anytime soon.

           “A copy of the will shall be sent to you within the day, and another copy should appear in the files of the Wizengamot, but I doubt anyone will notice it right away unless a census is done of the filed wills.” Ragnök’s response startled Morgana from her observations of Harry.

           Nodding her thanks at the Director, Morgana began to search through the vault, looking for mementos of Harry’s parents to take back to the house with them. Harry meanwhile, was digging through a chest he’d found, the lid bearing a curious arrangement of animals: a stag, a wolf, a dog, and a rat running around the surface. He’d opened the chest to find a beaten-up leather jacket that smelled like fresh cut grass and Uncle Vernon’s coffee, but in a good way. He pulled the jacket into his lap and found a small white box that had been underneath. Opening the box, he gave a small gasp at the necklace that lay inside. A gentle hand brushed his shoulder and he jumped as he saw Morgana kneeling behind him, her eyes sad.

           “That’s a lily, like your mother’s name,” Morgana whispered as she reached over and pulled the necklace from its box. The golden chain was thin, and she felt it might snap under the slightest pressure, but as she ran a hand over the fragile lily pendant, she felt a jolt of magic singe her fingertips, it was no mere trinket as she had first assumed. Turning her gaze back to Harry she watched the small boy look longingly at the necklace in her hands and asked, “Would you like me to put it on you? That way you have a piece of your mother with you?”

           His head jerked twice in succession and Morgana unclasped the necklace before placing it around his neck. Before doing the clasp back up, she whispered her own form of protection, imbuing the necklace with her magic, “Scildan,” the telltale flash of gold making the Director flinch before them, it had been a long time since a practitioner of the Old Religion had been in his presence.

           Beaming up at Morgana, Harry grabbed the pendant in his hand, the word lily running through his mind. He had something of his mother’s now. A soft smile made its way across Ragnök’s face as he watched guardian and ward interact, the beginnings of their bond so fresh, yet already so full of trust and the inklings of love, even goblins could appreciate that. Reaching down, Morgana pulled the leather jacket from Harry’s lap and a giggle left her as she noticed the golden stitching along the back spelling out the name Prongs, she’d bet her wardrobe that it used to belong to James Potter. She put it around Harry’s shoulder, muttering a sticking charm with her wand in hand so it wouldn’t fall off and muttered its suspected origins in his ears. The resulting smile was so bright and innocent, she couldn’t help but let another laugh escape.

           Holding his mother’s necklace in hand, with his father’s jacket around his shoulders, Harry had never felt happier. Morgana took his hand in her own, her pale skin contrasting his light brown. He would tan deeply from all the yard work Aunt Petunia had made him do in the summer, and it always bothered him. It was just another thing that Dudley used to tease him, that set him apart from the Dursley’s.

           Sensing his darkening train of thought, Morgana tugged lightly on his hand to get his attention. As Harry looked up at her she began to rapidly form a plan to get a smile back on his face while simultaneously sketching out plans for the future based on what the will revealed.

           “Come along Harry, let’s box up what you want to bring back to the house from here and then let’s go get some ice cream, it’s a true delicacy of this time.”

           Morgana’s words did as planned, and brought a huge smile to Harry’s face, he’d seen Dudley eat heaping bowls of ice cream in nearly every color, but he’d never gotten to have any. One time, when Aunt Petunia had him washing the dishes, he’d tried to lick some remnants out of the bowl, just to see what Dudley was so in love with, but he couldn’t taste anything.

ϟϟϟ

           Sitting under the umbrellas outside Fortescue’s ice cream shop, Morgana took a dainty lick at her Death by Chocolate cone, thinking the name apt as she held back a moan at the rich flavors that exploded on her taste buds. Sitting next to her, Harry dug into his moderately sized bowl of several different flavors, starting with the vanilla and working his way to the sticky toffee pudding and salted caramel blondie. His green eyes lit up as he spooned mouthful after mouthful of each bite into his mouth, finally understanding how Dudley could go through a carton a day.

           “Careful Harry, if you eat too fast the cold will hurt your head and your stomach,” Morgana cautioned, she’d seen several redheaded children afflicted with such pains upon her previous trip to Fortescue’s.

           Slowing down marginally, Harry took another bite of ice cream and wrinkled his nose at the flavor, maybe the salted caramel blondie wasn’t the best choice to mix with the others. Pausing to take a sip of water that Morgana insisted he have, he looked around him and watched as other families dug into their dishes, children running around screaming, ice cream smeared along their faces. So this was what normal kids did.

           “Can we…can we come back here sometime?”

           “Of course, we can little one, the next time we come to the Alley to get you fitted for your robes, we can stop by.”

           “Robes?” Harry frowned a bit, he’d seen the long robes that many of the adults wore around him, they looked like they were wearing dresses, even the men!

           “Yes, the Wizarding World we are now a part of is rather…old fashioned. Which I admit is strange, not very many in my time wore robes and they seem to want to cling to that era the most.” Morgana shook her head at Harry’s grimace, she too wasn’t impressed by wizarding fashion, and the options for witches were only marginally better. When she’d gone shopping for more clothing with Narcissa the week before, she was again displeased by what was thought proper, though she kept her feelings behind her mask. What she wouldn’t give for Camelot and her ability to be a trendsetter and wear whatever she wanted! But here, she had to blend in as much as possible, for now anyway.

           “Well that’s stupid, and I already have what we bought,” Harry’s pout made her heart clench, he looked so much like Arthur when he didn’t want to do something, both stubborn mules.

           “Unfortunately for now we must blend in Harry, when it’s just us we’ll wear what we want.” Morgana’s tone brokered no room for an argument and Harry nodded, grateful that he at least had clothes that weren’t the size of an elephant anymore.

           “How about we take a small tour around the alley, if you’re done?”

           Beaming up at her, Harry jerked to his feet, making sure to wipe his face down before they left the table, Aunt Petunia used to get cross whenever he had a mess on his face. Taking Morgana’s hand, which was getting easier and easier the more he did it, he followed her out into the alley, taking in the new sights, stopping in front of a shop with a bunch of birds that squawked at them as they looked inside. Tugging on her hand, he tried to ask if they could go in. Morgana looked down at her charge and shook her head, a smile on her face as he tried not to appear too eager to go into the store. Little boys and their pets.

           As they stepped into the shop, Morgana was inundated by power, specifically that of the Old Religion. She hadn’t felt this in the menagerie where she got her familiars, but there was something here that called out to her magic. Narrowing her eyes, she felt the telltale gold flash as she tried to scan the shop to find out which bird was tied to the Old Religion. A spark of gold caught the corner of her eye as she looked around, turning on her heel she found the source. A small bundle of grey fluff in a square cage off in the corner was radiating golden energy, the Old Religion calling out to her, and to her surprise, to Harry as well, tendrils of golden light wafted over to him, draping across his shoulders in a subtle caress. Taking a step towards it, Morgana watched as the small owl turned and looked up at her, blinking giant gold eyes, far too big for the small body. All in all, it was rather…ugly.

           “She’s so cute,” Harry’s voice startled her as he took a step closer to the ugly baby owl, “Can I pet her?”

           The shopkeeper who’d previously been hanging back as they wandered, jumped up at his words and nodded his head enthusiastically as he babbled about the bird. “We just got her in, she’s a baby Snowy Owl, very intelligent branch of owls they are, that one more so, she knows when feeding time is and tries to escape. But this is the first time she’s shown interest in people, you can go ahead and try and pet her, maybe you’ll be her forever home.”

           Rolling her eyes at the man’s rather sappy tone, Morgana flicked her wrist and the cage opened. The small bird hopped to the open door and straight into Harry’s arms, burrowing her small head in his chest. The Old Religion pulsed between the boy and bird and Morgana knew that they had been marked by something greater. Pulling out her purse, she began to sort through her coins for the purchase, it looked like they’d be bringing a bit more home than just the Potter heirlooms.

ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS from the Google Translate version of Latin:

Always humble, always brave.

I Morgana Le Fey of House Pendragon take this child, Harry James Potter of House Potter under my protection of the magic is, and I have to keep him, give him shelter, and love him as mine. I have witnessed/sworn on my magic and my life.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: A New Friend, and A New Enemy

           The sun had been up for hours, but Morgana herself had been up long before it. A week had passed since she did the blood ritual to bind herself to Harry as his guardian and they were about to make their first step into Wizarding society by having tea with Narcissa at Malfoy Manor. While she knew that Narcissa was her friend, her husband Lucius Malfoy had sided with the idiot Dark Lord previously and Morgana was wary about bringing her young charge in his vicinity, but she knew Harry needed to meet more people and children close to his age like Narcissa’s son. He’d grown in leaps and bounds over the last week, slowly showing more and more trust in her and in the house elves as they all worked to make the Corvus house a home. He’d begun to show interest in learning from her as well, his reading skills far surpassing what she expected of a child at his age. She’d noted already that his verbal skills were better than most four-year old’s, and though she had talked to his nursery teacher Ms. Carp about it, hearing that her ward was intelligent beyond his age and seeing it was something altogether different. She suspected it had something to do with his isolation from most children his age, or perhaps it was because of his parents, from her research into them, both James and Lily Potter had been incredibly intelligent individuals.

           In some of the reading she’d done on child rearing, if parents started reading to children as early as infancy, it could help stimulate the child’s learning ability. Whatever was the cause, she was pleasantly surprised by his ability to learn and eagerness to, it was something that reminded her of her as a child; her father Gorlois used to read to her each night before she went to bed to ward off her nightmares.

           As she made her way down the stairs to the library, she spotted Harry sitting in his customary chair, a book in hand and his legs curled under him. A cup of tea with steam still faintly rising from the surface sat on the end table next to him. Smiling she called for Bitty and asked her to bring some light snacks before lunch and then sat down across from Harry. Studying his face as he puzzled over each word he read, his mouth sounding out ones he didn’t know, smiling at those he did, he was a joy to watch. As Bitty popped back in with a small tray of cucumber sandwiches, their go-to snack, she decided to broach the subject of his reading with Harry.

           “Harry, can I ask why you like reading so much?”

           Harry paused from his book, it was a picture chapter book detailing the adventures of siblings in a magical world. Someone had gotten it for Dudley after Aunt Petunia’s boasting of her son’s prowess in school and when he couldn’t read, forced Harry to do it for him, making him do his cousins homework and punishing him when he got it wrong. He had to teach himself quickly, and soon found he liked reading as it allowed him to escape for a little while.

           Once, a few weeks before Morgana had shown up, after Aunt Petunia took a pan to his hand, bruising it for days because he couldn’t fry the eggs properly for breakfast, he was hiding in his cupboard in pain and bored, wishing for something to take his mind from the pain. Suddenly, a loud thump startled him from his thoughts and when he looked down he saw several of Dudley’s books gifted by a neighbor on the floor. He knew they were too advanced, for Dudley or for him, but he wanted a way to stop thinking of the pain and so he started to read them. He’d learned lots of new words from them, and was excited whenever he was able to use them. It set him apart from Dudley, but in a good way. Unlike his cousin, he had a brain! Thinking on Morgana’s question, he went for the easiest answer, “It lets me escape, I can hide in a book, like in my cupboard, but books...they’re fun and bright, not like the cupboard.”

           Morgana winced at the mention of the cupboard, but was inwardly pleased he’d had the escape mechanism of the books, it was a far better method than some.

          “I can understand, after my father...Gorlois died and I moved to Camelot, I was sad all the time. One of the ways I lifted my mood was going riding with my maid, Gwen or practicing with a sword. I couldn’t do those too often though, they weren’t befitting of a lady, and so I found solace in painting, of all things. I can teach you, if you’re interested?”

           Harry thought about the paintings he’d seen around the house and wondered which were actually hers. Nodding shyly, he took another bite of the sandwich she’d set in front of him. She was always doing that, putting food in front of him, making sure he drank water and milk, and at night several nasty potions that she said would help with his growth and what his aunt and uncle did to him.

           Smiling at Harry’s shy acceptance, Morgana plotted out the evenings course. After a week of acclimating to his new life, she’d decided Harry was ready to start meeting more people of the world he was a part of. She’d invited the Malfoy’s over for dinner, in part to introduce Harry to someone his own age, and in part to gauge whether she could turn Lucius into a pawn. Though from what Narcissa had told her, the man’s empty-headed, blind ambition had him following whoever carried the biggest stick, so it shouldn’t be too hard. He was a coattail rider through and through.

           She’d talked to the House elves to make sure everything was spic and span, and gone over the menu four times. Her debate over what she and Harry would wear lasted quite a while though, as he flat out refused to wear the dress robes they’d bought. They finally settled on several nice muggle suits he could choose from that they’d bought at Harrod’s and had tailored to hold the Potter crest on the right breast. She herself was modeling a dress from Harrod’s, deep red with a high neck but open shoulders. It was very similar to one she wore in Camelot to shock the lords and ladies, though this one was even more daring with its open back and bare shoulders, completely flaunting pure blood culture, yet at the same time screaming wealth and excess. She wore a silver necklace that looped around the front of the dress, at the end of the necklace was her family crest, gifted to her by Gorlois for her seventh birthday. It bore a loose figure eight, with spirals and loops curling around the bottom half to curl into the outer edges. The one good thing Uther had done for his friend was place the symbol on his headstone upon his death. She’d been comforted every time she went to his grave, clinging to her pendant as she cried before its larger effigy. Blinking back the tears that welled up at the memory of Gorlois, she turned to her young ward and let a small smile settle on her face as his face was buried back in his book.

         “Harry, have you laid out your outfit for dinner tonight?”

         “Yes…” Harry drew out his answer as set the book down on his lap and tugged on his shirtsleeves, he hadn’t actually laid it out, he was hoping she would help him. She’d said it was a dinner to meet a friend of hers and her family, and he wanted to look good, to show Morgana that he was worth taking in.

          “Really?” Morgana arched an eyebrow as she drawled out her response, knowing instinctively that he had not. Every day she was blown away by how much Harry reminded her of Arthur and to some extent, Merlin. Taking him by the hand she led him up to his room and set to the task of picking from the four options available, oblivious to the small smile on her charge’s face as they bickered.

Ϟϟϟ

          Harry shifted in his seat as he watched Morgana lead conversation between their guests. Bitty introduced them as Lord and Lady Malfoy and their son, Draco. He was nervous before their introductions, but after, hearing that they were a Lord and Lady made him sick to his stomach. He was a freak, and they were gonna know it! He just knew that it would be awful. Picking up his fork, he pushed the roast on his plate around, his stomach tossing at the idea of eating it. A piece of bread suddenly appeared in front of him and when he looked for the source he saw the boy that Morgana had said she wanted him to befriend.

          “You look sick, your face is all scrunchy. When I’m sick, Dobby gives me bread,” Draco whispered, his grey eyes wide as Harry turned a beaming smile on the boy.

          “Thanks,” nibbling on the bread, Harry thought about what they could talk of, he didn’t know much about wizards yet, “What’s your favorite toy?” he settled on that as he knew Dudley used to love talking about his toys to other kids at nursery. Grinning at the question, Draco launched into his answer.

          “I have a dragon, he’s a Hebridean Black, they’re one of the largest and scariest. His name is Sazar, for Sazar Slytherin.”

          “Cool. Mine’s a little wolf Morgana got me, his name is Mooey,” Harry wasn’t sure where the name came from, it just felt right when she’d handed the stuffed animal to him, it felt familiar.

          “Cool,” and with that icebreaker, the two hit it off pretty well, trading their favorite things to do and funniest stories over the rest of the meal.

          Morgana smirked as she watched Harry and Draco exchange stories of their experiences with magic so far, the two boys lighting up at every sentence. Turning her attention back to the other adults in the room, she pushed down her distaste at Lucius Malfoy’s sneering visage. He’d spent much of the meal making snide comments about her ward and her uncultured upbringing in the colonies. Of course, she hadn’t been brought up in America, and court life in Camelot was as cutthroat and vicious as any other court and so she politely smiled back at his comments and held in her rage. Narcissa tried to intervene at several points, aware that her husband was not making a good first impression on her new friend, but Lucius didn’t seem to understand the concept that women could think for themselves.

          “So, Narcissa tells me you’re looking into getting your Mastery in a History of Magic both European and American, what drew you to that field?” Lucius’ drawl drew her back to the conversation.

          Taking a sip of the elven wine Narcissa had recommended, Morgana once again drew on the guise she’d worn for years as courtier in Camelot. A small smirk played across her lips as she raised an eyebrow at the Malfoy Lord’s thinly veiled judgement.

          “Well… I already have my Masteries in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I’m planning on applying for a Transfiguration apprenticeship soon, and to be honest,” she paused and bared her teeth in a feral grin, pleased as the blonde prat shuddered slightly at her expression, “We can learn so many things from our past, so many mistakes that could be avoided, if lessons were only taught properly.” There. Let the man make of that what he will, she was imminently pleased as she watched him hide behind the veneer of pleasantries, obviously already scheming. Being a board member and governor of Hogwarts, he had the ear of those who decide the curriculum at her ward’s future school, and what better way to keep an eye on him there than by filling a teaching slot on the bequest of one of their esteemed governors.

          “I think it’s wonderful you’re still so engaged in academia, it should prove helpful in your raising of young Harry,” Narcissa added, her painted pink lips pulled into a subtler version of Morgana’s smile, yet still maintaining the cat that ate the canary vibe.

          “Yes, Harry is my first and foremost priority,” Morgana looked over at the boy in question, her eyes softening as he played with Draco, the two of them creating a swiftly melting castle out of their ice cream.

          “It did come as a surprise for some, that you would so suddenly sweep in and take the young Potter boy under your wing, being from the colonies as you are,” Lucius said after a moment’s silence.

          “Yes, it came as a surprise to me as well. But I happened upon him when I was in Surrey—looking at an old property of my father’s—and seeing the poor boy, so thin and abused, well I had to act. I watched him hide from his cousin and friends one afternoon, I didn’t even know he was Harry Potter at the time, he just looked like a small child, barely older than a toddler to be honest. He was hiding under a bush and a group of slightly older boys were poking sticks at him, when all of the sudden,” Morgana threw up her hands to mimic the effect of his magic, “The sticks went flying. I knew then he was one of us, and after some digging I found out who he was and went straight to my lawyer…you know I think you know him, Ted Tonks?” the sly smile that spread across Morgana’s face as Lucius Malfoy, Head of the Most Noble House of Malfoy spewed elf wine across the table, coughing into his napkin in a hurry to hide his horrific faux pas, had Narcissa grinning into her own glass. “Anyways, Mr. Tonks helped me draw up the papers, and with some character witnesses against young Harry’s guardians then, well it was a done deal. I took in him as my ward, thanks to Eldritch Diggory’s foresight, and I couldn’t be happier for the decision.”

          Wiping his mouth, Lucius attempted to pull together his dignity, very aware that his son and the young Potter brat had caught him spewing wine like a vulgar muggle. Straightening his cravat, he leveled a gaze at the Lady Le Fey and attempted to poke holes into her guardianship of the brat. She was young and foreign, there were many better candidates for rearing the Heir Potter than her, and he was determined to get her to see it.

          “I must say, while I am impressed you got the poor child out of such a situation…it occurs to me, that there may be others, better suited to rear a child. Perhaps those with families of their own, who are blood related to the boy?”

          Morgana tapped her lacquered nails against her glass, thankful for this modern world’s attention to war paint of various forms, the blood red polish she’d selected made her feel particularly vicious and she went in for the kill with this particular victim, “Oh, you wouldn’t know…but we are blood related. Harry’s mother, Lily Potter nee Evans, was of Le Fey blood. A second cousin once removed from a squib line if I recall correctly.”

          The color drained from Lucius’s face as her words began to sink in, but it started to return as she continued talking.

          “Of course, you are right that Harry should be with family, which is why I wanted to discuss something of grave importance with you two in regards to your connections to the House of Black. Your current Heir Apparent, Sirius Orion Black III, is wasting away in Azkaban, unlawfully and most importantly, innocently—and I have the documents to prove it.”

Ϟϟϟ

           Morgana knew she’d have to move carefully in her manipulations of Lucius Malfoy after the dinner. He’d been easy to mold then, as she was an unknown to him and was therefore able to surprise him. Laying in bed that night, she pondered over avenues she could use to exploit or blackmail him; Narcissa had been a font of information about his likes and dislikes. While she didn’t love her husband, Narcissa also wasn’t uncaring towards him either, though their marriage bed had long been cold, Lucius claiming that one child was all that was needed and that while Narcissa was beautiful, her unwillingness to adapt to his tastes kept him from her bed. A smirk slid across Morgana’s face as she thought of the perfect way to make the Malfoy Lord more amiable to her plans.

           Settling back into the plush pillows Bitty had fluffed earlier that day, Morgana took a sip of her nighttime tea and pulled out the book she’d been reading the night prior: A History of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black by Phineas Black.

          The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black could be traced back through to the Middle Ages, when a knight loyal to Richard the Lionheart was ennobled during the Crusades, that Knight, Geoffrey Brice of Somerset, took the surname Black after his battle winning tactics of charming the shields and armor of his command black to blend in to the nighttime surroundings as they crept along an encampment of Moors.  

          Geoffrey Black however, was also a descendant, though very distantly and unknown to him, of Morgana Le Fey. Her daughter Alannah Le Fey had two children, a son and a daughter. The daughter, Gwenyth, married a son of Sir Leon of Camelot and continued on the Le Fey line matrilineally. The son, Alastor, married a Druid girl by the name of Cliodna, who discovered the properties of moondew, and the two created their own House of Gealach. 

          House Gealach was a prominent Irish House for two hundred years, until the grandfather of Geoffrey, Aedan moved to London in search of an English Bride with new blood to invigorate their House. He then married Elizabeth Brice of Somerset, a first-generation witch from the family, and had Henry Brice, Geoffrey’s father. Geoffrey’s mother was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin by the name of Isolt Gaunt. Geoffrey, being a second son, used his new title of Lord Black of Ravenstree, a small farming community just south of Somerset, to marry Alexia Fawley of Pagford, and cemented the new Black line with sons Ara Black, Corvus Black, and Serpens Black, as well as their four daughters Lyra, Delphini, Ankaa, and Electra, looking to the stars for names and starting a new tradition in the process.

           Morgana slid a marker in the tome she was reading, she’d anticipated the history of House Black would be lengthy as they were not only one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but also one of the oldest families in Wizarding Britain, but to find out they were distantly descended from her, well that was something she didn’t expect, and it solidified her desire to free Harry’s godfather from his unlawful imprisonment all the more.

Ϟϟϟ

           Sitting in his office, surrounded by portraits of his predecessors, Albus Dumbledore was inwardly seething. He’d just received an owl from Mrs. Figg stating that the Potter boy was no longer a resident at Number Four, Privet Drive. When he’d gone over to demand answers from the Dursley’s, they slammed the door in his face.

           Him! Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, The Defeater of Gellert Grindelwald, Leader of the Light, Head of the Order of the Phoenix, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Headmaster of Hogwarts.

          He’d tried to force his way inside, but the blood wards, which should have deactivated upon the boy’s removal from the home, threw him back (little did he know that a certain meddling warlock had fiddled with the wards when his female counterpart left with her new charge). Coming back to the castle, he’d immediately fired off several owls to the Ministry to find out who had taken the boy from the Dursley’s, after all he was his magical guardian as he stressed in each letter.

         The first response from the Minister hadn’t been helpful, and the subsequent responses from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been even worse. Amelia Bones’ howler nearly singed his eyebrows as she raged at him for losing the Boy-Who-Lived, and her directions to do nothing as she investigated what happened had him bristling in his chair. Whoever had taken the boy would rue the day they messed with him. He had plans for the boy. Voldemort was most certainly not gone, and as long as the boy remained at large in questionable care of a stranger, he knew those plans would never pan out. The boy needed to be meek and shy, malleable and easy to manipulate with his grandfatherly presence. He needed a martyr, and he would only get one if the boy was raised humbly, something no wizarding family would be able to do.

Ϟϟϟ

         Of course, Dumbledore didn’t know that forces beyond him were changing the game. His chess board had been wiped out, the pieces scattered across Britain, and a new game was created. Not chess, but something infinitely older and more powerful. The Old Religion was returning, its players set to take the Wizarding World by storm, because a storm was coming for New and Old Magic alike, and things would need to change for either to survive.

         Sitting back in his plush leather chair he’d liberated from a stuffy pureblood politician in Italy, Merlin placed the Crystal of Neahtid on his desk. Events had been set into motion at the turn of the century, the 1900’s marking a descent into darkness and chaos. Two world wars filled with carnage and blood, followed by a series of wars scattered around the world had fractured the fragile balance the Old Religion had been keeping with the human world. With the rise of not one, but two very powerful dark lord’s in the same century, magic was screaming out in defiance, wrathful in it’s retribution for the desecration of the world by humankind. Morgana’s escape from her prison several months before had come at an auspicious time. He’d foreseen it after the fall of Voldemort and the marking of young Harry Potter, but he had anticipated her taking a bit longer to break down his enchantments. He’d underestimated her yet again. 

         Lifting a crystal glass to his lips, he took a sip of his aged Firewhiskey as he pondered his nemesis. They’d been bound by Fate and Magic, the darkness to the light, the hatred to the love. She’d turned on him time and time again, and he’d defeat her. He’d trapped her in the Crystal Cave nigh on 1000 years before, hoping never to see her again. But now she was out and had...changed. He’d watched her rage at the murder of the Potter’s and vow to protect their son. He watched her shatter his enchantments, and ultimately break the power of the Crystal Cave in her bid for freedom. She wasn’t the cold-hearted witch he’d fought in the past, but she wasn’t the kind and compassionate woman he had loved long ago either. He’d meddled when he could, helping her on her path, but he was uncertain if he was doing the right thing. Kilgharrah had been less than helpful, the old dragon laughed at his questioning of her fate, telling him that she was still the dark to his light, but then adding that perhaps that is what the world needed. The Old Religion seemed to agree as it pulsed around her and her new ward, caressing them, bathing them in it’s presence.

          Snorting at the thought of Morgana as a savior like the Great Dragon had intimated, Merlin turned his gaze back to the maps he’d laid out on his desk. Something was coming, something that would challenge the fabric of reality itself, and he knew he’d need to reunite with her before it was too late. There were older and darker things in existence than the two of them, and those beings had started to wake, and turn their gaze to Earth. A shudder went through him, his hair standing on edge as his magic pulsed in response to his fear. He was Emrys, the most powerful warlock to walk the Earth. Morgana was Lady Le Fey, the most powerful witch to walk the Earth. But even if they worked together, he wasn’t sure it would be enough. Not even figuring in the prophecy child and his chosen family. Tapping a pen against the detailed depiction of Diagon Alley on the map before him, he traced the lines of the ink with the tip of the pen. Perhaps, perhaps there was still hope, if balance was found, if the wars stopped raging over and over, if history stopped repeating itself.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight: A Sirius Situation

            The wind howled around his cell as a storm raged on, the dreary island filled with sheets of ice cold rain that blew in sideways through the bars facing the ocean. Sirius Black shivered as he pulled the threadbare blanket around his shoulders and huddled into the farthest corner of the cell, away from the biting cold of the rain. Twenty-five years old and he’d been stuck in this hellhole for the past four years. Everyday he cursed himself for going after the traitor Peter, he should have followed his first priority as godfather and taken care of his little Prongslet, but he hadn’t, he’d followed his impulses, the Black madness rearing its head at the worst possible time. Voices echoed along the walls of the prison, and he wondered once more if he might be going truly mad, though his fellow prisoners would often fill the wing with jeers and screams, they never did so during a storm, to call out would draw the attention of the Dementors and no one wanted that.

            As he pondered over his sanity, the voices grew louder until suddenly, they were right outside his cell door. The door in question creaked open, startling him from his self-pitying huddle and as he jerked to his feet, a woman stepped through the open door. Long dark curls that fell to her waist framed a pale face with startlingly familiar green eyes, her dress was something he’d imagine his cousin Narcissa wearing all velvets and silks, and it made him wonder who this woman was. She smiled at him, lips pursed together in an eerie smirk, her eyes containing a hint of something old and fey.

            “Hello Mr. Black, I believe we have some things to discuss, if you could follow me,” the woman turned on her heel and walked back through the open door.

Sirius stood there stunned, who was she, and why was she there. He took a step forward, and then another and cautiously trailed after her, his grey eyes fixed on the swish of her dress against the mud splattered floors of the prison. Most high society ladies would be tiptoeing through the muck, disgust evident in their every step, but this woman strode as if she had not a care in the world, each step firm and purposeful, and dare he say it, graceful.

            Morgana couldn’t help but smirk as they entered a small meeting room, the Black heir’s confused puppy eyes and obedience was something she found both endearing and out of character for all she’d heard about him from his cousins. Taking a seat at the table across from him, she gestured for him to sit as their guard took up his post at the door. Folding her hands in her lap, she waited for the man to take a seat, her eyes gauging his mood as he did. He seemed cautious but alert, the Dementors hadn’t completely ruined him then. Inwardly, she shuddered at the monsters, they were the descendants of the creatures she’d unleashed when she sacrificed Morgause to the Veil on the Isle of the Blessed all those years ago. Being near them brought back all the pain, the self-hatred, and the guilt that she’d come to terms with over the years. It made her curse the idiot who’d sacrificed to the Veil and bound the creatures to this realm after she had, clearly the person had no soul, for any being with one was tortured in their presence. So caught up in her thoughts about the foul beings, she didn’t hear the Black heir’s question at first.

            “Who are you? And why are you here?”

            Startled, she looked over at him, her vibrant green eyes locking onto his steely gray gaze. There was strength behind his eyes, drained and nearly forgotten, but still there. Her eyes flashed gold, and the papers she’d had Ted Tonks draft alongside Amelia Bones appeared before them. Her lips twitched as he recoiled, whether from the gold of her gaze or the sudden appearance of the documents, she couldn’t quite tell.

            “My name is Morgana Le Fey, and as of three months ago, I am the current guardian of your godson, Harry James Potter, Heir of House Potter. As such, I had access to the Potter vaults and clearance to open his parents Will, and imagine my surprise when I found out you existed, and furthermore were Harry’s rightful guardian, innocent of the crimes attributed to you. So naturally, I decided to investigate.”

            Sirius couldn’t believe what he was hearing, her name notwithstanding, the woman in front of him was guardian of his pup, who should have been with the Longbottom’s or Moony, even McGonagall or his cousin Andromeda were named, who was this woman to have his pup? But those thoughts quickly vanished as he processed the news that she knew he was innocent.

            “How?”

            “Lily and James’ Will not only names you as Harry’s godfather, but outs Pettigrew as their secret keeper. I forwarded this information to the head of the DMLE and had my lawyer, Mr. Ted Tonks draw up some documents to get you your trial so you could be released,” Morgana felt her heart seize up in a moment of empathy at the utter devastation that wrecked the man’s face at the revelation that he was going to get out of this hell.

            “Why? Why would you do this when you don’t even know me?” his words had her hand twitching in her lap, her thoughts flashing back to her imprisonment in the small cell with Aithusa all those years ago.

            “No one deserves to live like this, but especially not those who are innocent. I am not from here, but I did my research into Azkaban, and it repulsed me. Besides, you are Harry’s godfather, and adopted father by blood, you deserve to be in his life.” Morgana cringed as the man before her began to openly cry. It had been a long time since she’d been in the position to have to comfort another adult. Tentatively, she reached out and patted him on the arm once before pulling back and letting her expressionless mask settle back into place. Hopefully that moment of awkward sympathy would be enough.

            Tears slipped down his face, streaking through the dirt and grime that had built up from years of neglect. Here was someone who had no vested interest in him, at least none he could see outside of what she claimed Harry needed, and she was working to free him.

            “Thank you, I can’t…thank you,” the words slipped from him as he sobbed in his seat, his frail form bowing over the table. He was going to get a trial, he was going to be freed. And the woman in front of him was the reason for it. Sirius didn’t believe in a higher power, but right now he was sure someone divine had intervened, there was no other explanation he could conceive.

            “It was the least I could do,” Morgana murmured in response, the broken man in front of her so painfully familiar to her own inner torment.

ϟϟϟ

            The day of the trial Morgana paced around the foyer of Corvus house, waiting for her charge to come down the stairs. She originally hadn’t wanted to bring him, to expose him to the world in such a way, but she knew she would never get a better chance to capitalize on public opinion and cement herself as his caring guardian. The last few months of living with Harry and getting to know the young boy had filled her heart with a light she’d thought long lost. His fifth birthday was fast approaching, July 31 just a week and a bit away, and she wanted the trial over and done with so they could celebrate as a family, and he could meet and spend time with the man who knew his parents so intimately. As she turned on her heel to start her rotation again, she heard the telltale thump of small feet along the stairs and soon a messy head of dark hair appeared around the corner. Three months of healthy meals and supplemental nutritional potions gave him a hint of the roundness and baby fat that children his age were supposed to have. Dressed in small dress robes, the Potter crest emblazoned on the left-hand side, he looked positively adorable. She held in the urge to coo at him as he came to a stop in front of her, a shy smile along his face as he looked for her approval.

            “You look very smart little one, you’ll impress everyone today,” she said, running a hand through his hair, pleased at how he didn’t flinch at her actions.

            “Thanks Morgana,” he blushed at her attention, so unused to positive feedback from adults even after the months of living with her.

            “Now, do you have your book you picked out to bring with you, and your toys?” Morgana asked, her own bag full of papers for the trial as well as supplemental distractions for her young charge.

            Grinning up at her, Harry pulled out the brightly colored copy of The Wizard of Oz she’d bought him the week prior. The illustrations and large font helped him puzzle through the story, his brain soaking in each new word he learned. He’d been put out in the beginning after Dorothy killed the witch, he wasn’t sure how to feel about it knowing that his mum was a witch, but the tin man’s introduction had him smiling again. The thought of a creaky metal man was funny and the illustrations had the man falling over at every page.

          Tucking that back into his right pocket on the inside of his robes, he pulled out Mooey from the left one, the small grey wolf plushie with amber eyes was his favorite and he’d taken to bringing it everywhere. Morgana beamed down at him, grateful for magically sized pockets as he cuddled his wolf for a second before putting it back in his pocket and taking her hand. She’d been slowly getting him used to teleportation, apparition and other forms of transportation in the Wizarding world paled in comparison. Clutching his hand in hers, she incanted the spell, “ Bedyrne ús! Astýre ús þanonweard! ” and they disappeared.

ϟϟϟ

            The court was filled with witches and wizards as the Wizengamot began, the Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore banged his gavel and called the court to session. Morgana shifted in her seat next to Harry in the visitor’s gallery, she knew she had allies on all sides of the court, and had the law on their side as well, but her visions the night before had her worried. She’d tossed and turned for most the night, her dreams a wash of memory and speculation of the next day, but right before she woke she had a startling vision of an old man in vibrant purple robes standing over a bleeding child. She couldn’t tell who the child was but in the pit of her stomach, she knew it was Harry.

          Ever since she’d taken Harry from the Dursley’s Dumbledore had been hounding her with owls about returning him to their charge. She had sent Dagda with a missive after the first barrage, her snarling words implying things she couldn’t possibly know, and he had finally taken the hint and left them alone (of course she didn’t know part of that was due to Dagda’s own initiative in dive-bombing the man and stealing his half-moon spectacles before croaking out a laugh and flying off). She knew the matter wasn’t done with him however, and that he would try something today, she just hoped her work with Sirius would help curry favor from him and others.

          Running her hand through Harry’s hair again, she was grateful for the anonymity that the visitor’s gallery provided, and for the small charms she’d placed in their clothing to distract people’s attentions.

          “Any new business to be brought to the floor?” Dumbledore’s voice echoed across the court, startling Harry, there was something familiar about the old man. Morgana placed a hand on his shoulder, and he held Mooey closer to his chest.

           “Yes, Chief Warlock Dumbledore,” Amelia Bones, the new Head of the DMLE and Morgana’s newest friend stood, her short red hair clashing a bit with the plum robes of her office. Morgana winced at the color, and as she looked at the ostentatious plum and yellow robes the Chief Warlock was wearing, assumed he was the reason for it.

          “Yes Madame Bones? What business does the DMLE have in the Wizengamot today?”

          “We bring forward a case of the utmost importance, a case involving a peer of ours who has been unjustly and unlawfully left in Azkaban for the past four years, without a trial. I move for a trial for one Sirius Orion Black III, Heir Apparent of House Black.” Amelia’s words had the court in shock for a moment, before pandemonium broke out. Shouts and curses went flying as people denounced her words.

           “Order,” Dumbledore banged his gavel against the stand, his voice booming across the open space, silencing the masses, “Do we have a second for the motion?”

          “Seconded,” the reporters went wild as Arcturus Black, the reclusive Lord Black stood in his seat.

          “Motion passed, let the trial of Sirius Orion Black III begin. Aurors, send someone to retrieve the prisoner from his cell in Azkaban,” Dumbledore said.

          “Actually,” Amelia raised her wand and the doors opened as aurors entered, escorting Sirius in, “I took the liberty of releasing him as per my right as Head of the DMLE and had him checked over at Saint Mungo’s before having him spend the night in our holding cells prior to this session.”

            Dumbledore looked furious through his half-moon spectacles at the woman, his eyes no longer twinkling but narrowed and nearly slit-like. The Aurors ushered Sirius into the chair in the center of the room, chains springing forward to clasp him to the seat as soon as he was seated. Harry gasped at that, confused because Morgana had told him that Sirius was his godfather, which meant he was someone who knew his parents and should have taken care of him but couldn’t because of a bad man who hurt his parents, and so he was confused as to why was he all chained up. He wanted to know more about his parents, so he hoped that Sirius would be okay so they could talk.

          Morgana watched as Dumbledore gave permission for the trial to commence, his blue eyes focused and ice cold, so reminiscent of how they were in her dream. Amelia was good at her job, setting the stage for what the public assumed happened the night of October the 31, 1981. But what actually happened was only known to a very small handful of people, of which, Morgana was a part.

          “Now that I have gone over what is common knowledge by now of the events that night, I would like to hear your side of the story, Heir Black do you consent to being administered the three drops of Veritaserum to ascertain the truth of your statements here today?” Amelia’s words once again sent the court into a tizzy, only stopped when the formidable Madame Longbottom rose and chastised them.

          “Are you not the esteemed members of this brethren, show some dignity and save the gossip for the schoolchildren and reporters.”

          Her words left a small quiet in their wake as the Aurors stepped forward and administered the dose of Veritaserum to Sirius.

          “Are you Sirius Orion Black III?” Amelia asked.

          “Yes.”

          “You were a Gryffindor at Hogwarts?”

          “Yes.”

           "Did you participate in the Panty Raid of 1975?"

           "N-yes." A few chuckles echoed across the courtroom as Sirius' attempt to deny involvement in the event brought back memories. Amelia rolled her eyes, she hadn't wanted to ask the question, but Narcissa had insisted, stating it would show his character, and work as evidence that the Veritaserum worked, as her cousin had denied being involved in the event for years. 

          “Now that we have verified that the Veritaserum worked, we can get down to business,” Morgana leaned forward slightly, her gaze locked not on Sirius, but on the Chief Warlock whose hands were shaking along the pedestal where he stood. “Were you the Secret Keeper for James and Lily Potter on October 31, 1981?”

          “No.”

          “Who was?”

           “Peter, Peter Pettigrew.”

           Silence reigned supreme as people sat in shock at the revelation that the beloved, poor little Pettigrew wasn’t so innocent.

          “Explain.”

          “We were originally going to use me, but I figured that that would be the obvious choice, and with Death Eaters already gunning for me as a Black and as an Auror, I knew there was a chance I could be captured and forced to tell. But no one would have suspected Peter, or gone after him. He was the obvious choice.” His monotone recital of the facts made Morgana cringe, from all her visions he was such a passionate and vibrant man, to see him relegated to a blank slate with no emotion was, unnerving.

          “Have you ever been associated with or wanted to associate with the Dark Lord known as Voldemort or his followers the Death Eaters?”

          “No.”

          “Did you kill those muggles in the alleyway on November the 1 st , 1981?”

          “No.”

          “Did you scream that you had killed James and Lily Potter, that you’d betrayed them?”

          “Yes.”

          “Explain.”

          “I told them to switch to Peter, I as good as killed them.”

          The crowd sighed softly at that, many faces starting to look far more sympathetic to his case. Madame Longbottom, the battle-axe that Narcissa had warned her of, was even dabbing at her eyes as Amelia ended the questioning and started to address the actions of those who had arrested Sirius. Turning to look at the Chief Warlock and the Minister, Amelia let a small smirk as Fudge began to bluster his way through his complete bungling of the case as a representative for the DMLE four years before.

            “Well I didn’t know that Crouch would throw him in Azkaban without a trial, I assumed one had been had. There was so much going on back then.” Fudge’s words had Morgana hissing in her seat, his ridiculous excuses for such a miscarriage of justice were pathetic. And that was the man in charge of Wizarding Britain.

            Amelia too was unimpressed by his empty excuses, but she knew she couldn’t push too much, he was still her boss, even if he was new to the position. Turning to the Chief Warlock, the man who’d witnessed the Will of Lily and James and knew full well Sirius was innocent, she felt a streak of rage ripple through her, she wished she could go after him for all his offenses, but he was still lauded as the Leader of Light, and at most his maximum penalty would be child endangerment and misuse of power, both of which would only land him a heavy fine and perhaps a year or less in the minimum security ward at Azkaban if she was incredibly lucky.

            “I move to call for a vote regarding the innocence of one Sirius Orion Black III,” Amelia said, her voice echoing across the court.

            “Motion seconded,” Madame Longbottom replied.

            “All those who vote guilty?” nearly thirty wands lit up the court, making Harry cringe next to Morgana.

            “All those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?” over two-thirds of the Wizengamot raised their wands, and Morgana saw Sirius sag with relief. Well over 100 wands were lit in unison promoting the Black heir’s innocence: they had won.

           Dumbledore sat back in his seat steepling his hands together as he watched the aurors release Sirius. While he was relieved his own, transgressions hadn't been brought to light regarding the Will and his knowledge that the boy was innocent, he still couldn't help but feel that there was a heavy weight hanging over his head. No, he shook himself. The Will was sealed, no one knew about his involvement. And no one would. The public had their scapegoats in Crouch and Fudge. All would be well.

ϟϟϟ

            Sitting back on his bed at Saint Mungos, Sirius twisted his hands in the bedsheets, he was meeting his godson for the first time in four years. His entire time in Azkaban, he’d alternated between extreme guilt for not being there for Harry and extreme worry for what had happened to his pup. Moony had shown up sometime right after the aurors escorted him in to be treated for any lingering effects of Azkaban -  Madame Bones had demanded he had an escort after the days events. The sandy-haired werewolf looked exhausted and exhilarated all at once as he’d thrown himself at his old friend. The two men clung to each other, tears streaming down their cheeks at the reunion. Pulling away from Moony, Sirius studied him, taking in the new pale scars against his tanned skin, green eyes flecked with amber holding a weight and age to them that they hadn’t had four years prior. But even after all that, he was there, he had come.

            “I’m so sorry Padfoot, so sorry I believed you were the traitor.”

            “I’m sorry I thought it was you,” Sirius pulled him back into a tight embrace and they sat there for awhile until the Healer came in and began a more thorough check-up than the one he’d had upon first being released. Soon they were told that Harry would be brought by his new guardian to visit. Moony sat back in a chair next to the bed, fidgeting every so often as Sirius tried to keep a whine from escaping him. Finally, the door opened and a small boy with messy black hair poked his head in.

            Sirius let the whine out as Harry walked in, his tiny frame in immaculately tailored robes with his windswept mess of hair and vibrant green eyes were painful to see. But he wouldn’t trade anything in the world not to be there. Harry was followed by the tall woman who’d introduced herself to him in Azkaban.

            “Hello,” Harry’s soft voice trembled in the air as he walked towards the man on the bed. His long black hair looked messier than it had in court, and up close he looked really pale and skinny, like a skeleton with skin stretched tight over the bones. Harry was trying to be brave, like Morgana said his mum and dad were, but he still didn’t like talking to adults too much.

            “Hello,” Sirius replied, a soft smile crossing his face at the sight of his Prongslet looking so shy, “I’m Sirius, but you can call me Padfoot. I’m your godfather,” turning to Moony in the corner he decided to introduce him too, “This is Remus Lupin, he was also a friend of your parents and is your honorary uncle, you can call him Moony.”

          At the name Moony, Harry’s eyes lit up and Morgana smirked, so that was where Mooey’s name came from.

          The man in question was watching the two newcomers to the room, his nostrils flaring as he seemed to take in their scents. His eyes flashed amber as he caught the faint scent of old blood on Harry, months old but enough to enrage the wolf. The woman’s scent also troubled him, it was old, older than anything he’d smelt before, it was the deep earth of caves he’d explored for his Defense Mastery in Ireland, it was the metallic scent of newly forged steel, it was the rich scent of a newly budded rose, it was the smooth hint steam rising from the surface of a cup of hot chocolate. It baffled him and he wanted to know who she was to have such a scent.

          “Hi,” Harry nodded at Remus, a blush coloring his light brown cheeks in a rosy hue as he ducked his head.

          “I’m Morgana Le Fey, I took over Harry’s guardianship several months ago after I found his home life... less than appealing,” Morgana stepped forward and introduced herself to Remus as Harry walked closer to Sirius.

          The godfather and godson stared at each other, memories flooding each of them and Harry, in a moment of pure impulse threw himself onto the older man’s lap. Sirius wrapped his arms around his pup and held him, and Harry knew nothing but warmth and happiness, wrapped up in memories of Sirius doing something similar when he was much younger.

          Morgana let a bittersweet smile twinge across her lips, she knew she’d never have that sort of relationship with Harry, no matter how much she wished for it to be so. Looking back at the other man in the room, she decided to engage him in conversation so the two could have their private moment.

          “Harry has a toy wolf I believe he named after a memory of you, he calls him Mooey,” Morgana’s words had Remus battling between a smile and a frown, did she know about him?

          “How’d you meet Harry?”

          “Do you want the true story, the story I tell friends, or the one the public will know?” her words were followed by a short bark of laughter.

          “Let’s go with the one you tell friends,” Remus replied, narrowing his eyes at her.

          “I have visions, much like my ancestress. I saw Harry in one and investigated. He had been left with muggle relatives who treated him worse than a House elf, and so I worked as fast as I could to find a way to get him out. And after a week, I did. No child should be left in such an environment.”

           Nodding, Remus cringed inwardly at his own childhood. While her words felt weighted, like there was more to them, her pulse had been steady and she didn’t smell of lies like most people did. Either she was a talented actress, or she was telling the truth, and based off her actions so far, he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, for now.

          “Your accent says you’re from around here, but you don’t look familiar, you didn’t go to Hogwarts did you?” he asked, his eyes tracing her face, startled as he looked into her own, the familiar green something he did not expect.

          “No, my parents moved from London to the Americas, though we visited from time to time,” true from a certain point, Morgana thought, she had after all watched both sides of the Atlantic.

          “Ah, Ilvermorny then?”

          “Mhm, Horned Serpent. Research and learning are a passion of mine,” again Morgana justified her answers inwardly, after all a thousand years in a cave left her with little else to do but read, and she’d watched many classes and students in that house over the last century to break up the monotony.

          “Ah, Mr. Black,” a Healer interrupted the conversations in the room.

          “Yes Doctor?” Sirius gave the man his best simpering grin, fluttering his lashes at the man, making Harry giggle.

          “Healer Smythe who checked you over a week ago missed a few things so we’re going to have to put you on a strict regime of nutrient potions, vitality potions, and muscle growth potions to counteract the effects of your stay in Azkaban.” The no-nonsense tone of the Healer had Sirius bobbing his head up and down enthusiastically, he just wanted out so he could spend time with his pup.

          “I also recommend a strenuous exercise regime and diet high in protein and carbohydrates to build up your fat storage again. I’ve scheduled you for weekly visits with mind-Healer Jones, an owl will find you to let you know your appointment time next week, and will deliver your potions bi-weekly. I want you back in here for a check-up by the end of July. Now you have to fill out a bit more paperwork. Other than that, you are free to go. That is, you do have somewhere to go, yes?”

          Sirius froze, he’d been making funny faces at Harry while the Healer read from the charts in his hands but at the thought of somewhere to stay, he’d jerked to attention. Turning to Remus he raised an eyebrow but the wolf shook his head.

          “Sorry Padfoot, the cottage is being rented out right now so I’m staying at the Leaky.”

          “Well I guess I could…” before Sirius could say he could join him there Morgana cut him off.

          “Nonsense, I have plenty of room for the both of you, and it’d be good for Harry to have you there, and I’m sure having people around that you know would be better for your mental health.” Morgana winced internally at the spontaneous offer, what was she thinking? She could barely manage to keep Harry from her past horrors, let alone two strangers who had a vested interest in the boy. If they even suspected her of darkness, she was sure they would turn on her, believing her to not have Harry’s best interests at heart. But her mouth continued to open and close, words spilling out in the form of an offer. It had to be Merlin’s fault, he was the one always acting so impulsively and verbally spewing others with his words, this had to be his fault, he’d corrupted her somehow.

          The two men spluttered at her blunt offer but before they could reject it, Morgana was already listing her house as the place of temporary residence for Sirius Black. Turning to them she arched an eyebrow at their gibbering.

          “Merlin she’s worse than Cissy,” Sirius muttered.

          “Aunt Cissy is the best, she gives me hugs and lets me have pumpkin juice,” Harry informed him, shocking the man.

          “What?”

          “Oh yes,” Morgana had finished with the Healer and collected the paperwork left for Sirius to sign, handing it over to him she let her magic flare slightly as she said, “Narcissa has been such a good friend to me, and a wonderful role model for Harry. She’s teaching him how to dance you know, and he and her son Draco are such good friends. It’s truly a pity she married Malfoy, otherwise I would have snatched her up ages ago.”

          Her words left Remus and Sirius gibbering once more as they imagined the cool and beautifully aloof Narcissa with the statuesque woman in front of them. Harry shifted off the bed and to Morgana’s side, taking her hand as they walked outside to wait for Sirius to change before joining them. Sirius groaned, grateful his pup was safe, but beyond frustrated at the witch caring for him who seemed to have swept into their lives like a tornado, hopping to and fro, leaving things quite different from when she’d found them. And Merlin, her and Narcissa! Narcissa may have been his cousin, but he had eyes and seeing her at the trial she was just as beautiful as she’d been years before. Shifting uncomfortably on the bed, he felt part of him acknowledge how truly enticing the two women would be together.

          Remus shook his head as he tried to clear his thoughts, Moony laughing at him in the recesses of his mind. That woman was something else. Turning to Sirius, he got a waft of the other man’s arousal and his eyes flashed amber as he snarled, “Merlin Padfoot, get ahold of yourself this is not the time.”

          “I can’t help it, it's been almost five years. And she’s hot. And we’re going to be living with her apparently,” Sirius retorted, his grey eyes darkening at the thought.

          “Yes and with Harry too, our impressionable pup, so get ahold of yourself.”

          “Fine,” Sirius said as he stood and ripped off the ugly tartan gown they’d put him in, reaching for his robes, he let a leer cross his face as he watched Remus’s eyes flash amber at his nude form, “But if she’s off limits because of Harry what about you?”

          “Behave, Sirius,” Remus snapped, looking away as the other man dressed, trying to ignore the memories of everything they’d done together.

          “Ha,” Sirius barked out a laugh, “I don’t follow commands like that, you know that. I prefer to be in charge.”

          “So do I,” Remus turned, he was slightly taller than Sirius and he used that to try and dominate the other man.

          “If you boys are done eye-fucking, Harry is down the hall and anxious to leave,” the smooth drawl startled them and they both leapt back to find Morgana standing in the doorway, an amused smile on her lips.

          “Right,” Sirius straightened his robes and grabbed the paperwork, following Remus out the door as the werewolf stormed past the witch who held it open for them.

          Laughter, clear and deep, like the bells of the clock chiming at Hogwarts carried past them as they made their way to the boy bouncing on his feet at the check-in desk, a sugar quill hanging out of his mouth. Their lives were going to be very different from here on out.  

ϟϟϟ

          Inviting the two men to live with them hadn’t been one of Morgana’s more well thought out plans, though she intended to act like it to save face. Tidying up the parlor, she called for Bitty to prepare to serve two more at the table for dinner, but as she turned around to invite them through the floo, she had a sudden rather unpleasant thought. Although she’d told Harry not to tell anyone she was the real Morgana, and was quite certain no one would believe him anyways, there were certain artifacts and relics among the house that would be out of place in any pureblood family, even one descended from her. Biting her lip, she hesitated before the fireplace, but the offer had been made and she couldn’t take it back now. Throwing some of the floo powder into the flames she stuck her head in and called out, “Alright Harry bring them through.”

           Harry appeared in the flames as she stepped back, his small hand pulling Sirius through followed by Remus. The two men straightened up as they walked further into the parlor, their eyes sweeping over everything before landing on Morgana, who smiled at them. Harry immediately bounced over to his guardian and began asking when dinner would be served. Looking down at him, Morgana ran a hand through his hair before chucking him lightly on the back of the head.

           “Manners little one, go upstairs and wash up, change if you want to out of your robes.” Harry bounded off to do just that, and if Morgana hadn’t watched him all day, she’d have thought he was on an extreme sugar high like Leon used to get when they were kids sneaking honey cakes from the kitchen. Leon, Gwen, and herself would stage ambushes on Cook and then run off with spoils of cakes and pastries, though Leon always took it to the next level by devouring everything he could get his hands on. His sweet-tooth was unparalleled in Camelot.

           “Why don’t I show you both where you’re staying, and you can freshen up. Mr. Lupin I hope you don’t mind but my house elf Bitty went over to the Leaky Cauldron and picked up your things.” Morgana strode down the hall, the two men on her heels.

           Sirius raised an eyebrow as she led them up a staircase and onto the third floor; this woman was puzzling him. She’d barely met the two of them and was inviting them into her home, letting them stay. He looked over at Remus, but the wolf’s gaze was fixed on the woman before them, an amber glaze settling over them. Gulping at the emergence of the wolf despite it not being anywhere near the full moon, Sirius knew that he wasn’t alone in his suspicions. Stopping before two doors side by side, she flicked her wrist and they opened before them.

           “Now these will be your rooms, I figured you two would want to be close to one another. Harry is a few doors down from you, and I am at the end of the hall. If you need anything, let me know, I’ll leave you to freshen up,” turning to leave she took a step down the hall before she was stopped by a hand on her arm. Looking up she saw the hand was attached to an amber eyed Remus. Magic sparked along her arm from his grasp, and she quelled the urge to shove him against the wall and launch herself at him.

           “I think we all need to have a talk away from the pup,” Moony growled, pulling her into his new room, Sirius following in their wake.

           Morgana let herself be manhandled into the sitting area in the entrance to the bedroom before pulling free of his hand and setting herself on the plush brown loveseat. The two men loomed over her, exuding an aura of menace and danger, one primal and of the earth, the other darker, and of the ether. A smirk poised itself along her lips as she watched them circle her, their suspicions blatant in their perusal.

           “You want to know why I’m so accepting of you two that I offered you a place in my home, don’t you?”

           “That would be a starting point. Followed by why you have Harry in the first place.” Remus leaned over her and growled to emphasize his point.

           Morgana sat back in her seat and pondered her options, she did not know these men, and although something told her she could trust them with Harry, she wasn’t sure she could trust them with herself. She could tell them the truth, but she knew the truth that was known to the Wizarding World didn’t paint her in the most flattering light and they’d probably never trust her completely. Or, she could tell them a half-truth…

           “I am Morgana of House Le Fey. Do you know the significance of those two names? It means that I am a true daughter of the house, one that has inherited my foremother’s gifts. I am a Seer, like I said before Mr. Lupin. And as a Seer, my visions are-persistent.”

           Sirius snorted at her proclamation, seers weren’t exactly uncommon, and after the one that prophesied about Harry he was less inclined to believe another. Remus on the other hand was intrigued, if she truly was a Seer, then it could explain the odd tint to her scent, the ancient flow of magic around her, but it still didn’t explain why she took Harry in, persistent visions or otherwise.

           “Are we supposed to be impressed by that?” Sirius asked, rolling his eyes at Morgana’s affronted expression.

           “No. I suppose not.” Morgana replied.

           “What exactly does being a Seer have to do with Harry, did you have a prophecy about him?” Remus added.

           “No,” Morgana tried not to laugh, but it was difficult, how simple men could be sometimes, “I am not a Prophet, I am a Seer.”

           “You say that like there’s a difference?” Sirius’ words carried a hint of uncertainty, he’d taken Divination as a blow off class, but thanks to his family history, he did know to put some stock in the dodgy field.

           “Of course there’s a difference. Prophets,” Morgana sneered at the word, “See the future only through a certain lens, they see one possible outcome. Their trance state is them channeling the forces of the Crone, the words of their prophecies are often rife with uncertainty and double meanings, and many of their so-called futures are merely self-fulfilling prophecies. A Seer on the other hand, sees the future as it could be, in various forms. Seers can also have visions of the past. Their powers take the form of vivid dreams and nightmares, and so they are often driven mad by their Sight. Some Seers also have the ability to see the truth behind people. I am a Seer, like the original Morgana Le Fey, I have visions, and I had several of Harry before we met.”

           The two men stood there in shock, they’d never heard of such distinctions between Seers and Prophets, but every word Morgana uttered seemed to be heavy with the truth. Remus had listened to her heartbeat and it hadn’t wavered a second, and he could smell no falsehood from her.

           “What did you see?”

           Morgana paused and blinked, before settling on the first vision she’d had of Harry, one that she hoped would invoke empathy in the two men, “It was 4 years ago, on the night before Halloween. I was still on the continent. I…I saw what happened that night. When Voldemort appeared at the Potter house. I saw James Potter try to fight him and fail. I saw Lily Potter deny the monster and stand before him in front of her son. I saw her fall. I saw him turn his wand on Harry. And then I saw a vibrant green light, and Harry crying in its aftermath.”

           Tears streamed down Remus and Sirius’ faces at her words that incited painful images of their dearest friends falling before the monster. Hearing that the woman before them had seen that, and four years later gathered custody of their pup and took care of him provided the basis for the trust they’d been wary to give her.

           “You saw that, and decided to adopt Harry?” Remus questioned.

           “Not exactly, I assumed he had family. I was still in school, so I finished my education and planned a trip to check on him. But then my parents died, and I had to settle their estates. By then two years had passed, and I had gotten sporadic visions of him, lonely but mostly safe. When I arrived in London though, I had a rather graphic vision of him that cemented my desire to at least visit him. And once I did, well I knew I had to take him with me to safety. The vile couple he’d been placed with had no business raising a child, let alone a magical one.”

           Sirius growled at the mention of the Dursleys. He remembered them from James and Lily’s wedding, they’d been loudly offensive about everything. The fat walrus had called Lily a freak and James a no-good lowlife. Remus had had to hold him back from hexing the man even as James slammed his fist into his pudgy face. Even the rat had gotten in a few blows before the Prewett brothers had escorted Petunia and her pet slug out of the reception. He knew for a fact that Harry was to go to almost anyone else, and that he was never to be placed with the Dursleys. He’d been there when James and Lily were writing out their will, hell he’d even suggested Minnie as a guardian.

           “Thank you,” Remus muttered before clearing his throat, “Thank you for looking after him when we couldn’t. I asked Dumbledore over the years many times where he placed Harry as I wanted to visit him, since the current laws prevent me from caring for him myself. Every time he would say that Harry was safe and away from any danger, and that my visits could potentially put him in it. I’m ashamed to say I listened to him and didn’t push the issue.”

           “It’s not your fault Moony, I trusted the old goat too, and look where that got me, four years in Azkaban,” Sirius reached over and pulled Remus into a hug.

           Morgana watched the two men embrace for a moment, the sight bringing back memories that she’d rather not revisit. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she ruthlessly quashed the emotions and stood, effecting a carefree air as she started to leave the room. Stopping at the door, she turned back to the two and said, “I can see you two need some time alone, there is a door that connects your two rooms so when you’re ready you can freshen up and join Harry and I in the dining room.”

           Sirius watched the door close on her, his mind swimming with the revelations she’d disclosed and turned to the liquor table along the wall. Walking over he poured two shots of Firewhiskey while blessing Morgana for having the foresight to make the alcohol easily accessible. Knocking back his shot he held the other out to Moony who took it and stared at the golden liquor. Sirius was already on his second shot when the werewolf downed his first.

           “I miss Prongs and Lilypad,” Sirius whispered, and Remus nodded his head at the statement, a similar thought running through his head as Sirius poured them both another shot.

           “To Prongs and Lily,” Remus raised his glass and the two men drank.

Chapter Text

An Interlude: Harry’s Fifth Birthday

           Morgana woke up on July 31 to the clamoring of china next to her head as Bitty popped in with her morning cup of tea.

           “Miss Morgie must wake now. It is little master’s birthday,” Bitty cried as she snapped her fingers, the curtains sliding open to reveal the grey morning light.

           Groaning, Morgana rolled over and glared at the elf from beneath the mass of black curls bunched along her head. Bitty just blinked, her wide green orbs shining as she bounced from foot to foot. Sitting up, Morgana reached for the cup of tea, sighing as her hand closed around the warm porcelain. Bringing it up to her nose, she inhaled the minty scent, before exhaling and taking a small sip. Lowering the cup, she narrowed her eyes at the overexcited house elf.

           “Please tell me you wakened our guests like this as well?”

           “Of course, Miss Morgie,” Bitty smirked before popping off.

           Morgana shifted before throwing her legs off the side of the bed and standing up. Taking small sips of her morning tea, she went about her morning ablutions. Sketching out a list of things to do that day, she laid out the cream dress she’d bought for that day. First, they had to get breakfast ready for Harry before he woke, a difficult thing to do as the boy still didn’t know how to sleep in. Slipping on the dress, she zipped it up and went to fixing her hair, the long curls matted and tangled from her night’s sleep. After breakfast, she had tasked the two resident males to distract Harry by taking him shopping or to a movie while she and Bitty finished preparations for his party. Twisting the smoothed curls into a bun at the top of her head, she slid her wand in to hold it all together. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she adjusted a curl before turning to leave.

           Walking down the stairs she ran into Remus who was clutching a mug of tea to his chest. His tousled sandy brown hair was a mess, and the bags under his eyes hinted at a rather sleepless night. Patting him on the arm in sympathy, Morgana walked in quiet companionship with him down to the kitchen. As they stepped through the double doors, they were greeted with a loud clanging noise and a muffled shriek as Sirius danced away from a frying pan wielding Bitty. He was shirtless and barefoot, his sleep pants slung low around his hips.

           “I was just offering to help make breakfast you harpy,” he yelped as the house elf chased him around the island counter. Several of the other house elves giggled from their places along the stove top, Bitty’s temper well known.

           Laughing at his misfortune Morgana and Remus made their way to the accompanying dining room to help arrange the breakfast and collection of gifts. Bitty had agreed to let them do that, but not much more. The dog animagus followed after a few minutes rubbing his tailbone. Setting down a small package on the pile Remus was arranging, Sirius walked up to Morgana with a slight glare on his face.

           “Your elf is a monster. She woke me up at this unholy hour and then beat me when I tried to help.”

           Laughing Morgana set down the vase of lilies Bitty had collected and doubled over, her giggles shaking her frame. The man’s indignant look doubled, grey eyes narrowing as his lower lip jutted out in an immature pout.

           “Well I should think getting up early is self-explanatory, and as for her chasing you, I fear she was trying to prevent a recurrence of Tuesday’s kitchen apocalypse,” Remus snickered at her words, the image of an egg splattered Sirius one of the funniest things either of them had seen.

           “I was just trying to help,” Sirius sulked off, hopefully to put on real clothes before Harry woke.

ϟϟϟ

           The breakfast had gone off perfectly: Harry had walked into the dining room around six and his eyes had turned into glowing green puddles of tears at the steaming plates of food along the table and small present pile on the back wall. The three adults standing with smiles on their faces at his shock had him ducking his head and blushing as Padfoot and Moony swooped down to gather him into hugs. He wasn’t even scared of their arms coming near, he was so happy and felt warm. Morgana pulled him into her arms after they were done, and he’d buried his head in her tummy, inhaling the minty earthy scent that always seemed to be around her.

           They’d eaten breakfast, a full English with a side of fruit on Morgana’s orders and he’d giggled when Moony bit into a piece of melon and juice had sprayed across his face and plate. After breakfast, they shoved him at the present table, stating he had to unwrap them and that there would be more later that night. Harry didn’t understand, surely just the breakfast with... family was his present. But when he unwrapped the colorful paper, pulling neatly along the seams with tape and folding the paper when he was done, much to Sirius’ loud comments about how that’s not how you properly unwrap a present. He’d gotten a book of wizarding tales from Moony, a small black dog toy to go with Mooey from Padfoot, and a set of dress robes and several boxes of Legos from Morgana. Holding Padfoo as he named his new toy to his chest, he stared at the Legos with glee, he’d always been jealous of Dudley’s. His cousin would play with them for a few days, but after stepping on them in the middle of the night, scream and throw the small blocks everywhere. Harry was forced to pick them all up and throw them in the bin by Uncle Vernon. Now he had his own to play with though, and he had so many cool ideas on what he could build!

          And Padfoot and Moony were going to take him to the zoo! Harry didn’t know what such happiness felt like before now, but now that he had it, he didn’t want to let it go. Dressed in shorts and a green polo that Morgana said brought out his eyes, he bounced from foot to foot as Padfoot and Moony walked towards him, shoving at each other as they laughed. Even though he’d only known them for a week, Harry thought they were the coolest uncles ever.

          Ruffling the messy black head of his godson, Sirius opened the front door with Remus on the boy’s other side saying, “Ready for our adventure Harry?”

          “Yeah!” Harry jumped off the front step and raced to the sidewalk, the two men in close pursuit, barking laughter mixed with low chuckles and a childish giggle as the trio disappeared around the corner, Morgana pushed the curtains back into place from the window she’d been watching them from and set to her tasks before the party.

ϟϟϟ

           Staring at the clock along the wall in the parlor, Morgana straightened her dress one more time. The guests would be arriving momentarily, and she wanted to get them settled in before Harry arrived back from his excursions with Sirius and Remus. Starting to pace along the floor, Morgana eyed the fireplace, her eyes flashing gold as she lowered some of the wards she had in place. She didn’t know if anyone would have noticed them, the Old Religion was so sparsely practiced these days, but she didn’t want to take any chances and have to answer some awkward questions. As the final ward lowered, the floo flashed green and a woman stepped through. Grey streaked black hair pulled back into a severe bun, the woman was dressed in tartan green robes, with square spectacles perched along the edge of her nose. Smiling at the woman as she dusted herself off, Morgana introduced herself.

           “I am Morgana of House Le Fey, you must be Professor McGonagall.”

           The woman inclined her head and stepped forward to take Morgana’s hand, when their palms touched, she felt a tingle of old magic in the woman. Adjusting her plans as she guided the professor to the sitting area and refreshments, Morgana knew that something was brewing within the Old Religion, something that hadn’t been seen since even before her time, she just couldn’t tell what yet.

           The floo flashed green again, and Andromeda Tonks-Black and Ted Tonks stepped through, followed by their daughter, Nymphadora. Greeting the couple, Morgana thanked Ted for his invaluable services as a lawyer in freeing Sirius.

           “Oh, I was just doing my job, and Andi was convinced he was innocent,” Ted waved off her thanks as his wife and daughter greeted McGonagall.

           The floo flashed again, and again as more of the guests filed in. Augusta Longbottom nee Rosier, and her grandson Neville Longbottom. Arcturus Black, Lord of House Black and Sirius’ grandfather. The indomitable Augusta sneered at Arcturus as he swept into a bow and kissed Morgana’s hand, and the witch made notice of the animosity between the two, it could be a problem for her down the line. As she separated them, guiding Arcturus over to his niece, Andromeda, the floo spat out another polarizing family. Narcissa stepped through with Draco, her blonde hair perfectly in place, her husband however was not so lucky. Lucius came tripping through the floo, soot staining his cheeks as he sprawled across the wooden floors. Neville laughed quietly in the corner, but Nymphadora did nothing to hide her mirth at her estranged uncle’s misfortune, her hair flaring pink and green and purple as she shook with gales of laughter. The Malfoy lord jerked to his feet and strode towards Morgana, his blue eyes narrowed at the slight grin on her face as he asked for the nearest washroom to tidy up. Bitty popped in and grabbed him by the arm, apparating away before he could protest. Morgana snickered at the elf’s obviously watchful eye on the party, before turning and warmly greeting Narcissa and Draco.

           Her arms around the small blonde boy, Morgana directed him over to Neville who peeked from behind his grandmother and gave a soft wave.

           “Draco, I’m sure you know Neville here, the other children should be arriving shortly,” Morgana left the two awkwardly standing in front of the refreshment table and headed back to her post before the floo.

           Narcissa had made a beeline to her sister while Morgana introduced the boys, taking advantage of her husbandless state to pull Andromeda into a tight hug. The two women murmured to each other before Narcissa turned to greet the other guests. This didn’t go unnoticed by Arcturus, who began to see why Morgana was so adamant that Lucius Malfoy didn’t get his hands on the Black seat after his death, and why she had worked so hard to have Sirius cleared.

           More people stepped through the floo, this time Amelia Bones, Head of the DMLE, and her niece Susan. Greeting the two redheads, Morgana repeated the process of introducing the children while Amelia went straight to Ted to discuss some dubious litigation that the Dark faction was trying to push through.

           Lucius reappeared from his trip to the bathroom, soot free but flushed as he quickly made his way to the more adult refreshments and poured himself a glass of elven wine which he quickly downed. Narcissa arched an eyebrow at his display while McGonagall coughed, and hid a smirk behind a handkerchief.

           The Greengrass family appeared next with their two daughters who joined the growing collection of children. Followed by the Abbot’s, the Diggory’s and the Lovegood’s. Little Luna Lovegood and her mother Pandora pulled Morgana into a tight embrace, much to the woman’s chagrin, as the old magic pulsed strongly between the three of them. Luna let go quickly and skipped over to the other children, shyly greeting Neville before latching onto her cousin Draco. Another flash of green flames deposited young Theodore Nott, who as his father was too busy to come entered alone, and was soon pulled into the fray by Morgana, who cooed at his wide blue eyes and stammered greeting. The Patil family stepped through after him, greeting Morgana with slight bows and a knowing smirk, the matriarch joined the conglomeration of women around the refreshment tables as her husband chatted with Ted and her daughters joined the children. The floo flared one last time as Elladora Zabini and her son Blaise stepped through. Morgana kissed Elladora on the cheek while Blaise bounded over to Theo and wrapped the quiet boy in a hug.

           The guests lounged about the parlor, adults congregated by the bar, children by the refreshments table, darting back and forth between the finger cakes and sandwiches. It had taken a while for the stiff atmosphere to melt, though some (Lucius Malfoy) still maintained it. Pandora, Elladora, Andromeda, and Narcissa congregated around Morgana and Minerva, their subdued smirks and quiet laughs sending chills down the men’s spines. Arcturus was in deep discussion with Augusta, something Lucius kept trying to interrupt much to the chagrin of the other adults. Ted was brokering a deal with Lord Greengrass who had need of a legal opinion, with Advay Patil and his wife Lakshmi listening in. Amos Diggory was boasting about a werewolf take down the previous full moon, making Morgana twitch as she contemplated murder, thankfully Amelia stepped in to interfere. Katherine, Hannah’s mother smoothed the situation over and handed Amos a glass of water, his flushed cheeks rather telling of his already inebriated state.

          Draco had taken to talking with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot while Neville shyly played with Luna. Cedric Diggory was teaching the Patil twins how to play Exploding Snap with Daphne Greengrass and her younger sister Astoria looking on. Blaise and Theo alternated between following Nymphadora around as she tried to sneak out of the room to explore the house and playing with Neville and Luna. A handful of toys was scattered across the floor around the area Nymphadora labeled the kiddie corner all the while screaming, “Don’t call me Nymphadora.”

         The guest of honor arrived amongst all this with a wide eyed, open mouthed look of shock as his godfather and honorary uncle shoved him into the room. Harry had the best time with Padfoot and Moony, after the birthday breakfast, which was amazing, they’d taken him to the zoo! He’d seen lions and tigers and leopards, which were much bigger versions of Macha, though he preferred Macha to them. The cat would curl up on his bed at night and purr in his ears whenever he was scared. Then they saw the wolf exhibit, and Padfoot had made a bunch of jokes that had Moony punching him in the arm, Harry thought they were rather silly, but then most adults seemed to be (his mind fixating on Lucius Malfoy sputtering into his soup after Morgana told him she wasn’t looking to get married). The birds had been cool too, but he thought Dagda was cooler than any of them, he could talk and liked to sing along to the music on the radio whenever they were all in the library, Morgana had taken to silencing charms rather well after the crow’s first attempt at “Fly Me to the Moon.”

         Then they’d gone to reptile house, and he got to see a bunch of cool lizards sunbathing under lamps and a friendly coral snake who told him he looked “like a very handsome speaker.” He’d spent several minutes chatting with the snake, he learned her name was Calli and she didn’t mind living at the zoo because her handler always fed her the tastiest mice and she didn’t have to hunt for them or anything. Sirius had gotten a little weird when he saw Harry talking to Calli, but he quickly shrugged it off and pulled him into a hug, cementing the fact that adults were weird in Harry’s mind. Uncle Remus had just laughed when Harry told him about Calli, his voice going rather high pitch as he said, “Of course you can talk to snakes,” before buying Harry a chocolate ice cream.

         They took their time coming home, and when they reached the front door, Sirius pulled Harry aside before the boy could step inside.

         “Harry, now I’m normally against spoiling the fun of a surprise but I agree with Morgana on this. There are a bunch of people inside right now gathered for a party for your birthday. You know some of them, but most you’ll meet for the first time.”

         Harry blinked at his godfather, people were there for his birthday? For him? But he was just Harry, just a freak. No, he shook his head at the last thought. Morgana had told him he wasn’t a freak, that Uncle Vernon had said that to hurt him because he was a bad man. Holding onto her words, he walked inside and towards the parlor. But as he went to step inside he froze, what if he embarrassed Morgana? Before he could turn around the doors in front of him opened and Sirius and Remus were right behind him, their hands on his shoulders pushing him forward.

Ϟϟϟ

          Morgana watched as Bitty brought the desserts in, treacle tart and chocolate mousse cake dominating the table, her ward’s favorites. Sipping on a glass of Pinot, Morgana watched dinner wind down. After Harry had come in, the politicking had slowed down, and the adults turned to the Boy-Who-Lived, Heir Potter to bestow their well wishes on him. The children were less formal, Luna Lovegood grabbing ahold of his hand and pulling him into a dance, their childish giggles and tapping feet to the music of Draco and Neville singing in broken Latin was her personal highlight of the night. Shy little Theo Nott had been commandeered by Susan and Hannah who took turns dancing with him with the Patil Twins fluttered about Cedric and the Greengrass girls pulled Blaise into the fold. Nym, as she was newly christened by the birthday boy, sang the Hogwarts theme song when the kids asked for another tune, and the drunken lurching and spinning about of five-year olds had even Arcturus cracking a grin. Dinner was slightly more subdued as the children focused on their food, a blend of Italian and Spanish dishes that Harry liked.

         “How’ve you liked your birthday so far Harry?” Arcturus asked as he sipped at the glass of elven wine Bitty put down next to him.

         “It’s been great! The zoo was awe-some, and Moony and Padfoot are so cool. They told me stories of my mum and dad. And Morgana threw me this party,” Harry stopped and looked at his new friends, “And I’ve made some new friends!”

         The adults chuckled at the enthusiasm in his tone, but Morgana was quiet. She knew that Harry had had little to be happy about in his young life, from her visions and what little he had revealed to her over the months. Seeing him smiling and laughing with the other children as they poured heaps of multi-colored blocks on the ground and tried to recreate what she assumed was supposed to be Hogwarts, or some other castle, was far more gratifying than anything she’d done in the past. She had made a difference in this boy’s life, but he was making one in hers as well.

         Sirius lifted a glass as he toasted his cousins, Andromeda and Narcissa were smiling demurely at him, their grey eyes flashing like his own. House Black was reunited once more, and the Wizarding World had better watch out. Setting the glass down, Sirius looked over at Harry pleased to see his pup dancing with the Lovegood girl around the table.

         “I’m surprised she managed to pry him away from the treacle tart, he’s rather partial to it,” Morgana’s words brought forth a quick bark of laughter as Sirius turned to her. He cocked his head slightly and studied the woman, her crisp dress and elegantly coiffed curls belied the pureblood gentility he’d been raised with, but her words at Azkaban and again at the hospital said something different. Her actions too, were not of a demure lady of standing, oh she was polite to people’s faces and vicious behind their backs like his cousins (he’d seen her surreptitiously high five Bitty after what happened with Lucius and the pea soup), but there was something else there, something he couldn’t quite figure out. As he went to take another sip of his Firewhiskey, leaving the two of them in comfortable silence, Moony jostled his shoulder, drawing their attention to the birthday boy.

           Harry was standing in front of Arcturus who was holding out an elegantly carved walnut box to him. A large raven with outspread wings was engraved on the lid. Taking the box in his hands, Harry felt a jolt of something sparky light up his arm.

          “In that box contains the ring of an Heir for House Black. As my Heir,” here Arcturus slid his eyes over to Sirius, inwardly cringing at the man’s wide-eyed glee as he started bouncing on his toes in anticipation, “Has named you his Heir, and from the blood of your grandmother, Dorea my sister, you are a member of House Black. And as of now,” Arcturus placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders as he called on the family magic, drawing the shadowy power through him and into the boy, “I name you Heir Harry James Potter of House Black, Secondary Heir after the Heir Apparent Sirius Orion Black III, may Magic honor my words and our House judge you worthy.”

           Morgana felt a pulse of the Old Religion in the air and she narrowed her eyes, the instinctive flash of gold providing her with a look at the Black family magic. A shadowy raven was sitting along Harry’s shoulders, sparkling with Dark Magic. She smirked at the gasps of several Light-leaning families, even if they couldn’t see the manifestation they could feel its presence. Of course, the heady power of the dark was a bit much for some, she mused as Harry’s green eyes lit up with the infusion and acceptance of House Black, although this magic while dark, it certainly wasn’t black magic. Giggling internally at her pun, Morgana smiled outwardly, her teeth bared in feral celebration as Lucius Malfoy stood in pale horror at the sight in front of him. He’d been so sure his son was to be Heir Black, even after Sirius was freed the week before, he hadn’t expected this.

           Harry could feel the power moving through him, at first like sparks along his arms, like the time he accidentally shocked himself plugging in the new electric kettle Aunt Petunia bought. But then it changed, and became softer, like a feather brushing against him, it almost tickled. A giggle crept out, followed by another and another, and he felt whatever it was laugh with him.

           Arcturus stood back from the boy with a razor-sharp grin on his face, the Malfoy Lord’s shock had made his night, though the boy’s sheer enthusiasm helped.

           “Now that we’ve started the gift giving portion of the evening, could you all gather around the sofa and take a seat.”

           Chairs sprung up around Harry as people began to follow Morgana’s orders. The presents that had been on the back wall in a pile on the table appeared before him, and with an eager “Go on and open them Prongslet,” from his godfather Harry dove in, carefully peeling away tape from each gift and neatly unfolding the wrapping paper. Sirius groaned at his godson’s lack of frenzied paper shredding but was soon smiling again as Harry unearthed present after present with a shocked look on his face, green eyes blown out wide, his pupils contracting at every turn.

           Books of various fairy tales and adventures were piled in neat stacks next to him, though he was rather confused by the Harry Potter and the Battle Against the Dark series that Draco and Aunt Cissy had gifted him. Several plush toys of things called snitches and quaffles were given to Bitty who was hovering behind him to put in his room. Several people had gotten him a toy broom and kids Quidditch set, something he remembered Morgana muttering about when they’d gone to Diagon Alley the week before. And then there was the candy, heaps of Chocolate Frogs, Fizzing Whisbees, and Bertie Botts. There was even a pack of Sugar Quills, though he wanted to save those for Morgana, he knew she liked them. There was a matching dragon to Draco’s Sazar, a Herbology for Beginners from a blushing Neville, a bracelet made of twine and different shiny rocks from Luna (to protect him from the nargles, she whispered with a lisp as she wrapped it around his wrist), an enchanted comb from Blaise, a book on the achievements of Fleamont Potter (his great-uncle according to Padfoot) from Theo, and a brightly colored set of shirts from Nym that spelled out I’m With Crazy in different colors depending on who was holding them.

           He had presents! Real presents from real friends and family who cared. Harry didn’t know if he could be any happier, he was sure he was gonna explode from all the warm bubbly feelings in his tummy.  Reaching over for the last present, he picked up a small wooden box. It had no colorful dancing wrapping paper or bows that stuck to your hands like the other gifts. Curious, Harry lifted the lid and gave a small gasp. Inside was a plain golden ring, the edges smooth and gleaming. He reached in and picked it up, it was beautiful.

           Morgana recoiled in her seat, her eyes fixed on the plain gold band in Harry’s hands. Wizarding historians knew the ring as the Ring of Dispell, given to Lancelot by the Lady of the Lake. But she knew its true history. It was the ring she’d given Merlin, as a sign of her love all those years ago, before he’d betrayed her and she him. The Druids had taught her to spell it in her short time with them, and she’d put every ounce of her being into imbuing the ring with power to ward against harmful magics. She’d learned later from several spies that he had gifted it to Gwen after the Lancelot du Lac incident, stating that it was given to him by Lancelot as a final token of his esteem for the woman, and meant to protect her from further enchantment. Morgana had burned with fury when her spies revealed that to her. Her gift to him, just given away to the woman who was usurping her throne. Now with a cooler head, she realized it was Merlin’s way of protecting Gwen, but it did still hurt. Seeing it in Harry’s hands now, she knew that the meddling warlock was nearer than she had previously thought.

           Grinning at his new gift, Harry slid the ring on his index finger in front of his new Black ring. A sharp bolt of pain sliced through his scar making his stomach rumble in pain, but he plastered a smile on his face. It was his birthday and his stupid scar wasn’t going to ruin it.

ϟϟϟ

           In a deeply wooded thicket of trees along the south side of Cardiff, a shade of pure dark energy shuddered and let out an unearthly wail before fleeing deeper into the darkness.

ϟϟϟ

           Merlin felt a jolt of power run through him, signaling that the boy had put his gift on. Cackling to himself, he began to rub his hands together in glee, the world was changing, and things were about to get interesting again. Soon he would see Morgana again, and while part of him cringed at the reunion, it would be good to see someone from the old world once more.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine: Living with Canines

            Morgana hadn’t lived with anyone in over a millennia and was grateful that when Harry moved in he hadn’t affected her daily routine too much. Living with two men, and wizards at that however, turned out to be far more of an adjustment that she anticipated. That wasn’t to say it was frustrating, as Remus and Sirius staying with her did have its upsides.

           Remus offered a wonderful sounding board for her academic conversations. She’d even had him help her revise her dissertation for her History of Magic mastery on The Great Purge and Magic’s First Crisis in the Time of Camelot , though she did have to giggle and pass off how she knew so much by stating the Le Fey family kept rigorous records.

           One morning, she’d woken to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and old parchment. Sitting up, she realized she was still in the library and must have fallen asleep revising her last draft. A threadbare flannel blanket was draped over her lap, and as she looked across the room she noticed the table that the enticing aromas were emanating from. Remus was sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee in the same clothes as the night before like her. She remembered him coming in to help her with a translation of an old Gaelic text, but she hadn’t remembered either of them falling asleep. A blush colored her cheeks as she stood and made her way over to the table to pour herself a cup of coffee. Sitting down across from the sandy haired werewolf, she poured herself a cup.

         “Good morning,” her soft whisper, slightly husky from sleep had Remus raise his head to meet her eyes, his own a deep amber.

        “Morning.”

        Remus wasn’t alone in joining Morgana at her work, as Sirius would often wander by when she was brewing in the potion’s lab, keeping up a steady stream of anecdotes from his Hogwarts days, all centering around James trying to impress Lily, and some greasy kid named Snivellus. It wasn’t entirely the best for brewing, but it’d been years since she laughed that hard, so she let it slide.

        One such day, about a week after Harry’s birthday, she’d been in the lab for most of the afternoon attempting to brew Felix Felices. She’d had the potion in the works for months, but for whatever reason it kept backfiring. Suspecting it might have something to do with her powers as a High Priestess of the Old Religion, Morgana had screamed out in frustration, drawing the attention of the Grim. Poking his head in the lab, Sirius noted the black sludge in the cauldron before Morgana, the witch in question slumped over her worktable, dark lines under her eyes as she glared at the ruined potion. Her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in several days and hung lank down her back, the curls lifeless.

        “Hey now, why don’t you go shower and take a break. You look like Snivellus on a hard day...which was everyday for him, so not good for you,” walking over he carefully coaxed Morgana to stand, wincing as she snarled at him eerily resemblant of his mother in the moment. Walking her out of the lab, making sure everything was settled, he led her upstairs towards her room.

        “You know, you remind me a bit of Lily. After Hogwarts, in between missions for the Order she was getting her duel masteries in Charms and Potions and well one night when she was trying to work on a basic blood replenisher, she snapped. Starting ranting and raving about stupid dark lords and their sycophants. Her magic went wild and her hair starting sparking up on end, she looked like a ginger wookie. James made the mistake of telling her that and she hexed him so silly he was covered in green and silver polka dots for three days straight,” Sirius smiled at the memory, he had just broken up with Marlene and was back with Remus. He and James were making dinner when Lily had her fit, and after the first hex, Sirius had dove for the floo and showed up at his and Remus’ flat begging for shelter. Remus had laughed at him, and made him a cup of tea while Sirius shuddered in horror at how creative Lily had gotten over the years with her hexes. James showed up covered in polka dots crying about witches and their madness a little while later, and Remus had cuffed him upside the head and made him explain what had happened.

         Morgana laughed at the story, her eyes lightening a bit as she heard about her descendant. Lily Potter was a force of nature, one that Morgana would have delighted to have known.

         “I wish I could have met her,” she murmured as she let Sirius settle her onto her bed and pull a blanket over her.

        “I wish you could have too love,” he replied as he dimmed the lights and left the room.

          Of course, life with the two men wasn’t all bonding and quiet moments. Just the other day, Sirius had taken Harry to the zoo, and they’d come back after dinner, Harry with rosy cheeks and bright pink hair, and Sirius with a bright blue and white lightning bolt across his forehead. Remus spent the next day in the library with Harry, teaching him basic arithmetic, something Morgana had been meaning to do. The two men seemed to be replacing her in terms of importance to Harry’s life and while she was happy Harry was happy, it still stung. She wanted to spend time with him, but every moment she had free from planning and plotting, the two Marauders swooped in and stole it from her. And that’s not to mention the breakfast snafus.

          Morgana had even woken up that very morning to have a cup of tea before helping Bitty with breakfast, something she’d started doing to keep Harry from offering. But when she’d gone into the kitchen, the table was covered in pastries as apparently the two men had gotten up early and decided that Harry needed to try every pastry that ever existed. As if their repeated attempts to hijack the morning routine hadn’t been enough, Harry had taken one bite of a melted sugar cinnamon roll, and fallen in love. The subsequent sugar high had her cleaning glitter glue off the walls from his attempts to “make the portraits sparkly”. It was increasingly difficult for her to not confront them on their interferences, not to mention the larger, more serious problems living with others meant.

            Sirius’s drinking was worrying her, a glass of Firewhiskey was in his hands for most of the day. And while he wasn’t exactly a rude or irresponsible drunk in front of Harry, his behavior  vexed Morgana who saw it as a bad influence. Remus wasn’t much better as he enabled the other man, claiming that Sirius had a right to drink for a while, seeing as he was still dealing with the after-effects of Azkaban. Remus’ own demons of self-worth or lack thereof had Morgana tiptoeing around the man, worried she might say the wrong thing and send him into a depression. She’d pondered addressing his furry little issue as well, but with their acquaintance still new, she didn’t want to say the wrong thing and ruin any chance for a relationship. Not to mention that she knew Sirius would be on Remus’ side, their bond tighter than most she’d seen in this new era. She’d started to plot an intervention after the first month for Sirius, her patience wearing thin at his behavior, which was in stark opposition of the plans she had for the Black heir. He was supposed to be her ace in the hole, the connection between the older Dark pureblood faction, but his unwillingness to cooperate with anything political and his constant state of inebriation was too much.

            It all came to a head one night about a month after the two men had moved into the house on Corvus Lane. Remus was recuperating in his room after his first full moon with access to Wolfsbane, which Morgana had brewed for him. She’d given into her desire to help the man by presenting him with the potion and waved off any attempts to converse about it with an awkward laugh before disappearing into her office. Sirius however, was in the library fiddling with the radio. Morgana had at first been intrigued by the device, pleased at the musical diversity it allowed, but she was quickly becoming annoyed as Sirius had used it to plague her with endless songs about sex and women. Her final straw tipped over as he put on Queen’s “Fat Bottomed Girls” with her in the room, she was not fat thank you very much, she trained hard to stay in shape and be prepared for anything that might come at them. Harry had laughed at it, even as Morgana glared at the man’s rudeness.

    “Don’t mind the witch Prongslet, she’s just a bit cranky this time of the month,” Sirius smirked.

    “Why don’t you go up to your room,” Morgana steered Harry out of the library, sending a withering stare at her roommate and followed her ward.

     Seething at cocky grin on the animagus’ face she headed upstairs to make sure Harry was busy playing in his room that night (she’d gifted him with a set of Legos, something that she’d read about in the mundane papers as a stimulating toy for children). Satisfied with his amusement as he started building a replica of Camelot, using the enchanted painting of the ancient castle hanging above his bed as a muse, Morgana made her way back to the library, where Sirius was currently blasting “Witchy Woman” on the radio.

     Flicking her wrist at the double doors they flew open, the music drowning out the crack of the heavy oak doors hitting the wall. The music was already incredibly loud, but it got even louder as the animagus noted her entrance. Her temple throbbed as the music increased in volume, interval by interval. Her eyes settled on the radio and with a flash of gold, the music abruptly stopped. Sirius was sitting in a chair at a small table across from the fireplace, his hair up in a messy bun as he nursed a glass of Firewhiskey. Morgana settled into the chair across from Sirius and stared him down, waiting for the Black Lord to acknowledge her. After a minute, he lifted his head and met her gaze. Keeping eye contact, she reached over and snagged the glass of fire whiskey from his hands, vanishing it with a flick of her wrist.

     “We need to talk about your drinking.”

     “Oh we do, do we?” Sirius arched an eyebrow at her as he leaned back in his chair, affecting a devil may care attitude.

     “Yes, while I know you would never intentionally hurt Harry, the things you say while drunk do. I’m not asking you to stop altogether, but I do want you to monitor what you say,” Morgana stopped talking as she watched the Black Lord inflate, his grey eyes darkening to slate.

     A creak on the wood floors alerted them to Remus, who calmly sat down at the table next to Sirius, setting a cup of tea down on the table before leaning back and placing his hands behind his head. Sirius’s eyes flicked over to his old friend, before returning to Morgana.

    “I would never hurt my godson, and I drink to deal with the pain so I’m sorry if I don’t fit your picture-perfect little image.”

    “That is not what I meant in the slightest,” pinching the bridge of her nose Morgana tried to continue, “I’m just worried, you keep telling Harry you failed his parents whenever you’re drunk, that you’re the reason they’re dead and it’s confusing him. Not to mention your snarking at me, which is not exactly appreciated.”

    “Well I am the reason they’re dead,” Sirius slammed his fist down on the table, glasses shaking from the impact, “If I hadn’t suggested the switch of secret keepers, James and Lily would be alive.” He ignored the last half of her comment, it was just a little teasing. He was like that with Lily all the time in past.

    “Sirius he is five years old!” Morgana snapped, her eyes narrowing at the man, “He’s too young to understand and while he knows you love him telling him these things bothers him.”  

    “It’s better he knows the truth now, I failed James and Lily,” he stopped, his eyes looking off in the distance, wallowing in his self-pity. He knew that he had failed them, failed his pup, but he was trying to make it up to them all, it just became too much sometimes. And the firewhiskey helped.

     Morgana couldn’t contain her shriek of rage at his brooding.

     “Oh please, so you adjusted plans in an attempt to better protect them. That’s hardly a failure, I put the sword that killed my brother in his murderer’s hands. I have more blood on my hands than most people have ever wrought. I burned towns to the ground. I razed the land, and you don’t see me going around whining about it, sharing it with an impressionable young boy, no I’ve moved past it and am attempting to make amends.”  The words were at the tip of her tongue, but the two men still didn’t know of her true nature, and now was not the time to break it to them. So instead, she simply said, “You adjusted plans to better protect them, and you did it trusting in another friend. It’s not your fault. So stop blaming yourself, and take action and go to the bloody mind healers like you’re supposed to.”

     “She is kind of right Pads,” Remus interjected from across the table, he’d been silent until then but seeing his opening he decided to go for it.

    “Oh, like you have room to talk Mr. I’m a monster, woe is me, I have no job prospects even though I live without rent and have a job offer from a good friend,” Sirius snarked.

    “That was uncalled for,” Morgana said, her frown evident as Remus curled in on himself, “Yes Remus needs to further his own self-worth, but he has dealt with so much in his life. Monthly painful transformations from age four and coupled with severe stigmatization on what he was, is a heavy burden to bear. He reminds me much of the legends of Merlin I’ve come across. He dealt with many similar issues, though I do think he was less self-doubtful.”

    “Oh that’s nice, he gets compared to Wizard Jesus, and I’m told I’m demented and need to see a shrink,” Sirius rolled his eyes and slumped down deeper into his chair.

    “Yes, well if you’re going to act like such I will judge you respectively,” Morgana responded, “And this conversation has gotten off track. You’ve been here for over a month, and you haven’t gone to one of your appointments with mind-healers. Go. Talk to someone about your guilt. For Harry.”

     Sirius sat there glaring at her for several minutes, his grey eyes dark and pouring into her own vibrant green. He knew instinctively that she was right but hearing about his issues didn’t really help. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t gone to the appointments, he’d gotten ready each time, stood in front of the Floo, and then went straight to the bar in the parlor. Remus had tried to talk to him a week before, but the conversation quickly turned into a who’s the guiltiest/apology fest that had left them crying into cups of tea Bitty had placed in their hands.

     Narrowing his eyes at the glass in his hands, he shoved it away and stood up. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he started to walk out, “I’m going to go for a smoke.”

     Remus watched Sirius go, before taking a sip of tea. Tapping his hand on the table for a second, he stood to go. A pale hand reached out to grab ahold of his, stopping him in his tracks.

     “Thank you for backing me up, I know that wasn’t easy, you’ve been so close for so long,” Morgana’s soft voice startled him.

     “Yes, well I happen to agree with you here. It’s not good for the cub,” he cleared his throat as she stood up next to him.

      “Thank you, Remus,” standing on her toes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek before turning on her heel and walking away.

       Standing there in shock, Remus lifted a hand to his cheek. Though he’d purposely kept his distance from people since James and Lily died, he had missed human contact. Sirius was trying enthusiastically to make up for it, launching himself on Moony whenever he could. Morgana’s closeness was startling though, as she seemed to want to keep herself apart from others. There was a void in her eyes sometimes, a longing for something, yet absence of it at the same time. He knew that even though she’d answered their question in the beginning there was a lot she wasn’t telling them, but he’d let it slide, knowing she would reveal everything.

       Her presence in their lives, however distant she may try to keep from them, was a blessing. He’d come across her working on revising her thesis in the library and spent the next four days helping her edit, buried in primary documents and anecdotes. Sirius regularly stopped by the potions lab to offer his assistance, he wasn’t the best at potions, but he was decent at the preparation part. Of course, that often devolved into a story about the past that had the former Marauder heading straight for the bar or for a smoke outside. That very morning though, they’d gone out to buy pastries to thank Morgana and Bitty for their breakfasts, and while the house elf grumbled about it, he’d seen the small smile on her face when she thought they weren’t looking. Morgana herself had sniffed at their offering, and daintily picked at a poppyseed muffin until Harry used his ‘doe eyes’ to con her into sharing a giant cinnamon roll with him. She’d laughed and sliced the roll in half, icing smeared across her face when Harry tried to feed her a bite.

      Remus stood there for several minutes after she’d gone, thinking about the sharp turn his life had taken over the last month. The great clock above the fireplace chimed eight o’clock, startling him from his thoughts. Shaking his head, he wandered off to find Padfoot, sure the old mutt could use company after the little intervention their hostess had held.

Ϟϟϟ

       After the confrontation in the library, things between Sirius and Morgana cooled down a bit. The animagus realizing that perhaps the witch was right in her assessment that he seek help, and Morgana realizing after much reflection and a night of drinks with Amelia and Elladora, that the animagus teased and needled her to get a reaction out of her. From then on, their relationship flirted the line between cordial and friendly, Sirius’ visits to the potions lab more frequent, and Morgana’s new interest in music kindled and was brought to flame by the animagus’ eclectic tastes. Remus had walked in on the two dancing around to the dulcet tones of Steven Tyler and Aerosmith one night, and promptly walked back out as the song quickly changed to “Hungry Like the Wolf” by Duran Duran.

      Two months after Harry’s fifth birthday and the initial move in of the remaining Marauders, Morgana decided to celebrate the milestone. She had Bitty make a special trip to the market for fresh ingredients, then gave her the night off. The house elf grumbled and shook her tiny fists at Morgana for it but left her alone in the kitchen. Laying out what was needed, Morgana waited for the inevitable appearance of the Marauders and their protege. They’d spent the day at the park with Harry, visiting with Susan Bones and Neville Longbottom who were supervised by Augusta. Soon enough she heard the front door open and the wards shudder as they passed through them. Light footsteps sounded in the hallway as Harry rounded the corner and came through the open door, his cheeks lightly flushed as he skidded to a stop in front of Morgana. Laughing at his exuberance, she leaned down for a hug which he gladly reciprocated. The two men had followed behind at a more sedate pace, and so were greeted by the sight of Harry and Morgana hugging. Loudly cooing Sirius threw a hand over his heart and swooned at the sweet sight while Remus scanned the counters, his enhanced sense of smell picking out the different scents.

      Letting go of Harry, Morgana took a step back and smiled before gesturing across the counters, “I thought it would be a good bonding exercise if we all made dinner tonight. I had Bitty pre-make some things out of time constraints, but I figured we could do the rest. Homemade pizza sound alright?”

     Nodding enthusiastically Harry rushed to the sink to wash his hands as Remus walked over to the topping selections Morgana had out and inhaled, the sharp scent of fresh pepperoni and salami making him hungry. Sirius danced over to Morgana and took her hand, lifting it to his lips he pressed a kiss to her palm stating, “You are a goddess divine, how’d you know I was craving pizza?”

     Shaking her head at his words, Morgana flicked her wand down from its holster to her hand and levitated several cookbooks over to the workstation she’d cleared for Harry.

     “I have a few recipes in mind for sauce? If you want to work on those with me while the older boys,” she sent a sweet smile at the two who were bristling at being called boys, “Finish chopping up things for our toppings.”

     “Yes! I love cooking with you Mu-Morgana,” Harry blushed and ducked his head as he started to measure out the amount of ground pepper specified on the pages before him.

     Morgana twitched at the stumble before her name, surely he hadn’t almost called her? No he couldn’t have. Turning her attention back to the counter, she began to ladle some of the freshly pressed tomato paste into a bowl, hoping that the night would go off without a hitch.

     Of course that was too much to ask when dealing with the marauders, but after two flour explosions, a quickly applied burn paste due to some melted cheese, and several glasses of wine, she sat back on the couch in the parlor, Harry in the crook of her arms with a smile on her face. Sirius and Remus were covered in flour and sprawled out along the floor, the former was groaning holding his stomach because he ate too much while the latter snored away because he ate too much. Harry snuggled deeper into her arms; he was fast asleep, and while normally Morgana would have insisted he wash up as he was coated in flour and tomato sauce, he looked too peaceful, and so she let him drift off in her arms. Running her fingers through his hair, she hummed a lullaby until she too fell asleep.

“ Huna blentyn ar fy mynwes,

Clyd a chynnes ydyw hon;

Breichiau mam sy'n dynn amdanat,

Cariad mam sy dan fy mron;

Ni chaiff dim amharu'th gyntun,

Ni wna undyn â thi gam;

Huna'n dawel, annwyl blentyn,

Huna'n fwyn ar fron dy fam.” *

*From Suo Gân a Welsh lullaby first recorded in print in the 1800’s. Translation:

“Sleep child upon my bosom,

It is cosy and warm;

Mother's arms are tight around you,

A mother's love is in my breast;

Nothing shall disturb your slumber,

Nobody will do you harm;

Sleep in peace, dear child,

Sleep quietly on your mother's breast.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten: Entanglements, Friendships, and Plotting

        It was bound to happen at some point, though Morgana thanked the goddess it happened when Harry was spending the night at Malfoy Manor (Lucius was away on business otherwise she never would have allowed it). She’d noticed the appreciative looks of the two men that day in the hospital six months earlier and had given a few of her own in equal measure. Sirius had regained the weight he lost after a strict regime of potions and added to his happier outlook on life post-Azkaban, the wizard was looking downright sinful most days. His long black hair hung in waves, framing his sharp grey eyes and the stubble along his jaw. He’d taken to wearing skin tight jeans and leather jackets, deep V-neck’s underneath to show off his tattoos. She’d found herself absentmindedly tracing the one peeking out from the collar of his shirt one day, the word Mischief playing into a rather delightful fantasy. Remus was a contrast to Sirius, with short, brown hair that looked perpetually like he’d just had sex, mossy green eyes that flashed amber at odd intervals, and deeply tanned skin. Even the many scars across his face and all over his body were attractive, they spoke to how much he’d endured in life. And the button-up shirts and sweaters he wore, they shouldn’t be attractive, but on him, well the modest, gentle mannered young man look, with the wild wolf underneath, had her panting late at night.

       So, when she decided to have a late bath while Harry was away, filling the tub with bubbles and scented oils, grateful for modern hygiene practices and the invention of a soaking tub, she didn’t shy away from indulging in some of the fantasies she’d collected. The doors were locked, and she’d found a privacy spell in one of her charms books that worked wonders when she was in her office and needed the two nosy canines out of her hair.

       She’d been lounging in the water, cheeks flushed as she completed the fantasy involving a cocky animagus, a jar of chocolate, and a ravenous werewolf, when the wards began to chime, marking an incursion. The loud blaring of the wards was similar as similar as she could get to the warning bells of Camelot whenever someone escaped the dungeons, such a common occurrence that the sound was imprinted in her mind. Jumping up from her bath, she reached for her plush white towels, Bitty had perfected washing them and maintaining the fresh mint scent of the soap within the dried towels. Wrapping it around her and tucking it in under her arm, Morgana flew from the bathroom, her wand forgotten as her eyes flashed gold, trying to find what had triggered the wards. Her magic led her into the parlor in front of the fireplace connected to the floo, the green flames sparking black, as a grey smoke billowed forth.

       Two shapes tumbled through the crackling flames, and as they made to stand, Morgana acted, her hand outstretched as she snarled, “ Hleap on bæc, ” blasting them back against the wall. Waving her hand, she wordlessly cleared the smoke clouding the room, seething at the soot that stained to pristine white of her towel. Striding over to the unconscious forms slumped against the back wall beneath a portrait of Arthur and Gwen, she nudged one of the bodies, getting it to flip over to show her intruders face. A disgusted groan slid from her lips as she rolled her eyes: the face revealed to be none other than Sirius.

       Conjuring a bucket of water, Morgana splashed the two men, smirking as they jerked awake, limbs spazzing out. As Sirius tried to stand up however, his uncoordinated motions from the abrupt awakening had him careening into Morgana. With a small yelp, Morgana went down, crushed by the weight of the tall man. She landed with a sharp exhale, her tailbone connecting with the floor in a loud thump.

        “Shit, Morgana I’m sorry,” Sirius babbled as he flailed on top of her, trying to regain his balance to stand.

        Remus, who had gotten up slowly from his collision with the wall, was doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down his face as he shook, deep bellowing laughs echoing through the room.

       “Get off of me you mutt,” Morgana hissed, shoving at the man on top of her to get to her feet. Only too late did she realize her towel had been caught by the zipper of his leather jacket and was yanked free from her body as she moved. Cold air rushed along her bare form, and Remus suddenly stopped laughing while Sirius blinked slowly at the newly revealed flesh.

       A slow red blush crept up Morgana’s chest, infusing her cheeks. She damned her body’s reaction to the situation, humiliated by the sense of embarrassment, seeing it as weak and beneath her. Cocking an eyebrow, she planted a hand on her hip and leveled a glare at the two suddenly still and speechless men. “Is there a reason why you two set off the wards as you came tumbling through the floo?”

       “Ah…” Remus cleared his throat as he stepped forward, his mouth rapidly drying, “We might have had a bit to drink at the Leaky and forgotten the password.”

       “So you forced your way in?” Morgana sneered as Sirius rubbed at his head before shrugging in agreement with her statement, “For future reference, the wards would have killed anyone else who tried that. You two were lucky that I keyed your magic into the schematics so it would recognize you in case something like this happened.” Shaking her head, Morgana made to turn around and head to her room, she’d been having a perfectly relaxing bath and then the two idiots she’d fantasized about had to come along and ruin it.

       The two in question were having a hard time formulating words as they stared at the woman before them. Though they’d been inebriated as they came through the floo, they were quickly sobering from the blows to the head and wet wake up. The pale nude form of the woman in front of them also helped. They’d admired her in her form fitting dresses and loose loungewear over the months but the sheer amount of unblemished skin showing now was tantalizing. From her various remarks of how often she’d fought Merlin, Camelot, and other allies, they half expected her to be riddled with scars, but the only flaw they could see was a small star shaped scar along her breastbone. Her dark hair was dripping down her body, water droplets sliding along the column of her neck down to her small breasts and pale stomach. She had muscles they’d never noticed too, refined from some form of activity though they hardly saw her leave her office or the library. Dark grey and green bordering on amber eyes trailed down her body, noticing the contours of her body and the defined muscles of her thighs and calves. They trailed back up her legs to the curve of her ass, pupils dilating at the dip in her back and the way the water slid down it.  

       “Ahem,” Morgana cleared her throat, interrupting their perusal with a quirked eyebrow and a slight sneer, “Are you two done? I’d like to go get dressed now.”

       “No,” Sirius blurted out as Remus ducked his head muttering “Yes.”

        Shaking her head at them, Morgana summoned the crumpled towel from the floor and walked away. She’d known they found her attractive, but she hadn’t expected such a blatant lust as they studied her naked form. As she stepped into her room, she wondered what might have happened had she stayed. Would they have acted on the desire? Would she? She froze for a moment as she dried her hair, her breath caught in her chest at the thought of Sirius on top of her, Remus watching, but quickly banished it, returning to wringing the water out of her hair. No good would come of such fantasies, they barely knew each other, and the focus was to be on Harry not on her.

        Sirius and Remus were also wondering about the could haves and should haves, but in a decidedly more... productive manner. They were half-clothed, hands in each other’s pants as they worked each other furiously. Panting in Remus’s ear, Sirius gasped as he came. The frenzy to get off started by Morgana’s abrupt exit finally over, Remus buried his face in the other man’s shoulder as he groaned out his own completion. Sitting there for a moment, their thoughts mirrored each other and without having to speak, they acknowledged that living with the witch was definitely going to be more difficult from here on out.

         “I love you Moony."

         “You too Pads.”

         Their relationship in the past had been open, the two men together yet perfectly okay with the other going off and shagging random women as long as they came back home to each other. They’d tried a relationship with Marlene McKinnon, but the war claimed her before it could progress beyond sex. That was the last time they’d shared someone, and the last time they’d each had feelings for someone besides each other—until now.

ϟϟϟ

           Over a year and a half since Morgana had taken custody of Harry and Morgana couldn’t believe how quickly time had passed. Shaking her head as she stared at the calendar that marked the start of a new school year and new school for Harry, she marveled at how far their relationship had come since then. Harry, who once used to look to her for permission to eat, let alone play and do other things a five-year-old should do naturally, was now hell on two feet. His sixth birthday had come and gone in a flash and now he was starting primary school. He technically could have the year before, but she’d decided to homeschool him so that they all could cement the bonds that were forming. It had been the best decision she could have made as he blossomed into a shy but still outgoing child. She’d caught him in the attic last week, hiding among the dust and boxes of old gowns from Camelot that had mysteriously appeared. They were supposed to go have dinner with the Patil family, but Harry had decided Padma and Parvati were too mean, that their teasing about his hair and scar meant they were mortal enemies and so he couldn’t possibly have dinner with their family. It had taken everything in Morgana not to burst out laughing at that, she’d kept her lips thinly pursed as she called in reinforcements, sending Sirius and Remus up after the boy.

           Living with those two had also taken some time to adjust, but they’d been invaluable. Morgana was able to start focusing long-term on protecting Harry and maneuvering about the political minefield of pureblood society as she had built in caretakers with the two men. Sirius adored spending the time with his godson and Remus was pleased he was back with his pack and so they didn’t complain. There was another rather tense layer with them living together though, especially after the bath-towel incident (coined by Narcissa and Elladora over drinks the next night). Harry was positioned very skillfully between the three of them, and the adults were rarely left alone together for very long. Though the instances where they were, were rather memorable.

           Harry was oblivious to any tension between his guardians, happy to bask in their constant attention and love, and he embraced their rather smothering actions. Morgana had taken to walking him to the local school for his lessons every morning, the ten-minute walk filled with jokes and stories of her past. Either Moony or Padfoot would pick him up at the end of the day, they’d take a walk around the local park or go to a small bookstore across the street from the school. He’d made friends with a girl in his classes after the first few months too.

           The teacher had singled him out for family tree day when his picture showed a rather eclectic family: Mum and Da: Lily and James Potter, Uncle Padfoot and Uncle Moony and Mumgana, Siblings: Draco, Nev, and Luna. He’d painted each name with their own color, and had a rainbow under Padfoot and Moony’s names, and wrote Mumgana in bright purples and greens.

           “Harry, why don’t you explain why you drew your family tree like this?” Mrs. Engle called him to the front, her brown eyes tired under the fluorescent lights.

           Standing up from his desk, Harry scuffed his sneakers along the floor as he walked to the front. He was wearing a green polo that Mumgana said brought out his eyes, something that Padfoot and Moony said he got from his mum. He rocked back and forth in front of the class, his hands sweaty along the paper as he held it out to show his classmates.

           “So, this is my mum Lily, she’s in green cause her eyes were like mine. My da James is in red, cause that was his House color,” he moved his hand to point to the other names, “Uncle Padfoot is in pink and purple cause Uncle Moony says those were his favorite colors, and Uncle Moony is in blue and pink cause Uncle Padfoot says those were his favorite colors. Mumgana is in green and purple cause that’s what she wears a lot, well that and black. Her name’s actually Morgana, but she said I could call her Mumgana. Drake is in green and silver cause he says those are his best colors. Nev’s in red and gold and black cause he’s brave and loyal. Luna’s in blue and grey cause she’s like the sky.”

           “Harry, I meant why don’t you explain who exactly the people are,” Mrs. Engle cleared her throat and Harry blinked at her, his eyes widening in confusion.

           “Um… so my mum and da died when I was a baby,” Mrs. Engle gave a slight gasp at that, but Harry ignored her and continued, “I lived with my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon after that, but they weren’t very nice. Then Morgana came and adopted me, and with her came Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus who told me to call them Padfoot and Moony. They were friends of my mum and da. They live with us,” Harry paused and looked over at his classmates, he’d made friends with a boy named Justin, but he was now frowning at Harry and that was weird, but Mrs. Engle was nodding her head, and so he kept going, “Drake is my cousin, but he’s more like a brother. Nev is my god-brother. And Luna is like my little sister, though she’s actually Drake’s cousin. And they’re all my family.”

           Silence echoed along the classroom as the kids stared at Harry. Mrs. Engle stood up from her desk and ushered Harry to his seat. He sat back down and put the tree on his desk. He’d spent hours on it, Morgana and Padfoot helped with the painting, but no one said anything. The bell rang for lunch after awhile and Harry dug his backpack out of his cubby to get the lunch Bitty had packed for him. Pulling out the lunchbox, Captain America across the front, he turned to go sit with Justin and some of the other boys, when he noticed them crowded around his desk. Frowning, he walked over to them.

           “Hey,” he muttered, as Justin picked up his family tree, his face all twisted.

           “Why’s it all colorful and stuff, it looks like a girl drew it,” Justin wrinkled his nose, his big nostrils flaring.

           “Cause it looks cool, Padfoot helped me do it.”

           “You call your uncle Padfoot, that’s so weird, you—you weirdo,” one of the boys jeered. Justin nodded his head up and down really fast in agreement.

           “Yeah, this looks like a girlie project, are you a girl Potter?”

           Harry blinked at Justin’s sudden turn, he thought they were friends, but he was just like Piers who abandoned him for Dudley within minutes. Tears burned at his eyes, but he bit his lip, he wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t.

           “Leave him alone,” a soft voice broke up the laughter that surrounded Harry. Looking up from his feet, he saw a giant bush of brown curls in front of him. Beneath the curls was a small girl with big brown eyes and two overly large front teeth. She shifted from foot to foot, her own Princess Leia lunchbox dangling from her hands.

           “Nobody asked you Hermy,” one of the boys snapped at her, taking a step forward to knock her lunchbox from her hand. The box hit the floor and slid underneath Harry’s desk, prompting him to move.

           “Leave her alone,” Harry curled his hands into fists like Moony taught him, he had to stand up to Justin, he was being a bully, “She was trying to be nice. And you’re being mean.”

           “Aw did we hurt your feelings,” one of the boys broke off to circle the girl while the others pushed Harry into another desk.

           Harry winced at the pain in his hip from hitting the desk, he’d had worse, but it still hurt. His day had been great up until this, he didn’t get why Justin had started being mean, why he’d joined these other boys and turned into a bully. He thought that life would be better than when he lived with the Dursley’s, but it looks like there were Dudley’s everywhere. Why him? Why’d he have to deal with this all the time? Something inside him burned, it wasn’t fair. Justin was being stupid. Those boys were being stupid. And the girl was just trying to help, and they were pushing her around. His hands clenched tight and a wave of something swam through his tummy, and suddenly Justin and the boy next to him were running away, yellow liquid trailing down their legs as they raced to the bathroom. Turning to help the girl out, he gasped as she was sitting at her desk, her lunchbox open and a napkin placed on her desk. The boys who were bothering her were hiding in the corner of the room, blue and pink polka dots covering their hair…she had magic, she was like him!

         Picking up his lunchbox from where it landed, he walked over and sat down at the desk next to hers and got his lunch out.

           “I’m Harry, Harry Potter,” he reached over and held out a hand.

           “Hermione Granger,” she shook his hand before digging into her lunchbox, pulling out a juice box and began to drink.

           “Thanks for, helping,” Harry started to eat his cucumber and tomato sandwich, blinking at her wide grin in response.

           “Of course, they were being rude. And I thought your project was very special,” she ducked her head and took a bite of a carrot, the silence between the two of them broken up by the occasional crunch of carrots or slurping of a juice box.

           “Want to read a book before they all come back?” Harry asked as he finished up his lunch and was immediately attacked in a flying hug by the girl next to him. Squealing she turned and ran to her cubby, pulling out two books.

ϟϟϟ

           Hermione became a permanent fixture at Corvus house, her love of books and defense of Harry endearing her to the adults. Her accidental magic was quickly addressed by Morgana after the girl blew up a chocolate cake meant for Remus in a fit of rage at the boys at school’s treatment of Harry on Halloween. The boys at school had turned on him for his orphan status and unorthodox family, something that made Morgana’s blood boil and had her hissing things about peasants when she thought no one was listening. Halloween had been particularly nasty, as they’d gathered together to steal his candy. Harry hadn’t said anything until Hermione prompted him once they were back at Corvus house. The small girl let out an eerie shriek and glass exploded all around her, the bowl with the chocolate cake batter exploded in Morgana’s hands, coating her and the kitchen in chocolate. Hermione’s hair was sparking out, a wild frenzy of power and magic, and Morgana marked her as a secondary apprentice, after Harry of course. Remus entered the kitchen moments later, drawn by the yelling, and his eyes were subsumed by a brilliant amber as he took in chocolate covered Morgana. His attention was distracted moments later by the shrieking little witch who alternated between stomping about and hugging Harry. A few flicks of his wand and things were put to right, and Remus and Morgana sat the two children down and talked about what had happened.

     Soon after, her parents, Richard and Helen were brought into the magical fold, and Helen soon became a fixture at the monthly girls’ nights thrown by Morgana and Narcissa. What really happened at ‘girl’s nights’ was unknown to Remus and Sirius who assumed that the women just got together to drink and gossip. Sirius’ typifying of aristocratic women as “air-headed” was both annoying as woman, but also gratifying as it hid the coven’s true purpose. Though Morgana wasn’t opposed to them knowing, she also knew that they would disapprove of some of the more... underhanded methods the women used to get things done.

     Sitting in her office on November 2, Morgana had her master plan laying out in front of her. She supposed it was a bit cliché that she’d created a master plan, but after so many years of watching the Wizarding World flounder and decay, she’d decided it needed an overhaul, and who better to do it than her? She’d secreted away her plans in her secondary office, hidden by a secret door in the office she used for daily affairs. After watching several spy/thriller films with Harry over the summer she supposed she was more like the M of the Bond films and that the cloak and dagger style was actually quite fun. The chalkboard she had Bitty buy months before was wheeled out in front of her desk, her plan sketched out in chalk, she’d written it in an old Celtic dialect from her youth on the off chance anyone did discover the office. Her phase one was mostly complete, Harry had been rescued and was thriving, Sirius was freed, and Dumbledore was undermined for his failures in that department, she had a strong core group of allies in the coven, and because of that had spies littered throughout the British, French, and Italian ministries.

     Flicking her wrist at the board she watched the writing shift along the green surface, the white chalk dust floating about and rearranging itself to reveal phase two. With phase one being infiltration and subversion, phase two was a prolonged silent war, moves and countermoves over what Morgana estimated by her nightly visions, a six to seven-year period of time. Purebloods were slow to change and so she couldn’t do too much too quickly, but she knew something was coming. Her nightly visions had her waking screaming, images of blood and muck and gore emblazoned across her eyelids as she woke, she’d had to repair the windows of her rooms on a weekly basis. The Old Religion was screaming, reaching out to her nightly to warn her of something. But she could never See what. Or if she had Seen it, she couldn’t remember. She wished she had someone to talk to, but with only Harry vaguely knowing who she was, she had nowhere to turn.

     Brushing her hair out of her face, she let her eyes flicker over to the portrait hanging along the wall behind her desk. The golden frame encased the shifting image of her sister, Morgause’s glare a constant presence over her shoulder. When she’d first gone into the office, she’d been puzzled by why Merlin included the portrait when he’d arranged the house (her general confusion over his actions was also a constant in her life these days). But as she settled into her scheming, she began to realize her sister’s presence was there as a warning. Morgause had been the catalyst in her original downfall, the one to turn her away from Arthur and convince her that she was the only one who could enact positive change. Her looming presence, mute or otherwise, kept a leash on her plans, and Morgana knew that Merlin had meant for her to be reminded of her fall constantly so that she didn’t do so again. She acknowledged the benefits of it, but she knew from her long years as a watcher, that though she may have decided to fight alongside of the side of the Light, she would never be a part of it again. A loud knock at the door startled her inspection of her sister’s sneer, and she quickly stood and slid through the panel along the wall into her main office, making sure the secret door was closed before she opened the door to find Sirius standing there.

     “I’ve been knocking forever, what’ve you been doing,” he whined, his grey eyes sweeping over her disheveled appearance, her hair falling out of a bun, deep circles around her eyes of a slightly bruised purple, her borrowed Metallica shirt (from his closet!), “You look like shit.”

    “Yes, well I’ve been busy working,” she pushed past him out into the hallway only to reel back and hide behind him after seeing Lucius Malfoy at the end of the hallway, “What is he doing here?” she hissed while frantically pulling her wand from her sweat waistband and applying beauty charms.

    “Dunno, the prat said something about Narcissa needing to speak with you. I stopped paying attention after he opened his mouth to be honest though,” grabbing her arm he halted the shimmer of a glamor she’d been placing over her eyes, “Don’t, you look fine love. You don’t need to put on beauty charms for Lucius “the Prat” Malfoy.”

    “It’s not for him exactly,” she pulled her arm back, “I have to maintain a certain image.”

    “Why?” he cocked his head like a curious puppy.

     As she transfigured her outfit into something slightly more presentable, black slacks and a black blouse, she stopped and looked at him, really looked at him. His eyes were fixed on her, his arms now at his sides, his hands twitching as he let his eyes drop to the floor. Was he jealous? She let her wand hand fall and reached out to touch his cheek, her vibrant green eyes meeting his muted grey ones. “Lucius is a pawn, and as such he needs to be presented with an image of power. I personally agree with the thought he’s a prat, but he is Narcissa’s husband and Draco’s father, and we need him and his influence in the Wizengamot. He’s partially how I moved to get you out of Azkaban.”

     Sirius shuffled his feet. He loathed his cousin’s husband, and every time the man arrived at Corvus house, he seemed to flutter about Morgana, constantly praising her and giving her lingering glances. Remus told him to ignore it, that he only scented mild disgust on Morgana whenever the prat was around, but he had a hard time doing it. He’d grown up with Walburga ranting to him about how he should be more like the Malfoy boy, the perfect pureblood heir, followed by cutting curses and the occasional cruciatus. Seeing the prat fawn over the beautiful woman who’d saved his life and brought his pup so much joy irked him. Hearing her explanation helped a bit, but it also pointed out how ‘perfect’ Lucius was all over again, even Morgana had more use for him than she had for Sirius.

     Morgana, unaware of the depressed thoughts of the man in front of her, finished her charms and headed to deal with the Malfoy lord, annoyed at his presence in her home, yet again.

Ϟϟϟ

     Remus sipped at his tea and wondered again how he ended up with kid sitting duty as Harry ran past him, shirtless and covered in green and silver stripes as Draco chased after him, his hair a garish blood orange. Hermione was sitting primly across from him, flipping through an encyclopedia of magical beasts, ignoring the squirming child she was sitting on. He caught the tail end of the fight in which Theo Nott had called her a bushy-haired swot and ended up hogtied with a jump-rope and underneath the young witch. Luna was dancing along the floor, barefoot and wearing Sirius’ sparkly boa from the last showing of Rocky Horror they’d gone to the past month. There was no music, but it didn’t seem to deter the young witch. Neville was calmly sitting next to him, half asleep, or at least he thought he was half-asleep.

     Blaise appeared around the corner of a bookshelf, his normally gelled back black hair standing on end like Harry’s was. Remus raised an eyebrow as the small boy narrowed his brown eyes at the screaming duo of Harry and Draco before opening his mouth and screaming out a vicious war cry of “Revenge!” before tackling the blonde of the two and sticking a spit wettened finger in his ear. Taking another sip of tea, Remus sighed at its lukewarm state and wondered if he could leave them alone for a moment to make a fresh pot.

     “Mr. Remus sir, I have to use the potty,” large bulbous blue eyes beneath pale eyelashes blinked up at him as Luna tugged on his shirt, and suddenly all thoughts of fresh tea disappeared as the collective group of children gathered around him chanting, “Potty! Potty! we have to use the potty!” Dragging a hand over his face, he wished for a full moon to have an escape from this. Where were Sirius and Morgana when he needed them? Hopefully not off snogging in a broom cupboard like he’d caught them on Halloween. Of course, he had no room to judge, she’d caught them snogging in the kitchen the night prior. A pillow hit him in the face as Theo, now freed from beneath Hermione started bobbing from foot to foot joining in the potty chant.

      Needing reinforcements, he stood taking Luna’s hand as he called out, “Bitty, I need help,” and the house elf popped in.

     “Mr. Moony needs help?” Bitty cocked her head at him.

     “Yes, they all appear to need to use the bathroom, could you help me sort this out?” he didn’t beg, he was a grown man, he didn’t need to beg for help with children.

     “Uh oh,” the soft whisper from the boy across from him followed by a pungent odor had him groaning and wondering once more why he was left on child duty. Bitty snapped to attention and popped Theo away, leaving the puddled mess on the floor and the rest of the children for Remus to deal with.

     Harry snickered at Moony’s constipated expression, his uncle’s face drawn into a deep frown as Draco and Blaise began to shriek at Theo’s pee incident. He almost felt bad for Moony, except, well the expression on his face as he pulled out his wand to clean up potty was so funny. Especially since Mumgana had told him that she would be late because she was off maternity dress shopping with Aunt Cissy, and he knew Padfoot was upstairs sleeping. They both told him they were leaving Uncle Moony in charge because he needed the experience, though Harry didn’t quite understand that, he knew it was important for adult reasons and he didn’t question it.

     Picking Luna up, Remus gestured for the train of children ducklings to follow him to the bathroom on that floor, plotting his revenge for the obvious plot to ruin his sanity by constant exposure to children that Sirius and Morgana had obviously orchestrated.

      On the third floor, Sirius was snoring his hangover from the night before away, oblivious to his best mate’s dark thoughts as he snuffled and snuggled into the teddy bear Harry had placed into his arms hours earlier.

    Across town, Morgana browsed the racks at Twilfitt’s and Tatter’s as Narcissa gushed effusively about her pregnancy, her desire for a second child finally realized and the coven’s plan to neutralize Lucius and hers’ marriage initiated. The secondary plan of getting Remus used to children so he could eventually teach, yes things were working all according to plan.

Ϟϟϟ

    Meanwhile, across the country, nestled in a thicket of devils snare, a shadowy form opened its red eyes as a shudder went through it once more. A new power was rising, its victory on the horizon. This century would be stained with the blood of humanity. It was marching ever closer, and once it arrived, it would leave none alive. There would be no dawn for mankind. And even the shapeless, formless specter of the once Lord Voldemort sensed it. And feared it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven: The World Keeps Spinning  

Morgana wondered how long it would take the two men to figure out her identity. Over the last year and a half, she hadn’t been particularly subtle. Her command over wand magic had increased but she still tended to use the Old Religion more often than not. Harry knowing the truth, despite his young age, made her wonder about the observancy and listening abilities of their other housemates. He’d commented on her heritage, her brother, and her time in Camelot in front of them too many times to count, but they never picked up on it. She herself had made passing comments about her time in Camelot, but they’d never picked up on it, never asked questions, which left her vacillating between amused and worried about their intelligence.

Her musings were cut short as she stared at the portrait along the wall in the library. It wasn’t a regular wizarding portrait as it didn’t move, but she suspected it was more than a normal portrait. She noticed its presence after her second cup of tea as she was revising her paper on the comparisons between the muggle war in Germany and Grindelwald’s rise to power several moments before, but it hadn’t quite sunken in.

It portrayed a young Merlin, from the years long past of his earnest blue eyes and awkward ears. He was wearing his brown outfit and red neckerchief, and his pale skin had yet to carry the scars she’d once mapped out. Studying it, she could have sworn it depicted the Merlin who first appeared in Camelot, an image of him from that first day, when she’d mistaken him for Gwen, when he fought with Arthur and ended up in the stocks. The inexperienced and bumbling Merlin. Not Emrys. Not yet.

Tracing a finger along his jawline, she felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her, tingling down the back of her neck, cold pinpricks that settled in the base of her spine. For a second, she was swept back to those early years, of jokes and jesting, of journeys and campfires in the woods. Of innocence. Of ignorance. Of sweet kisses in hidden alcoves. Of full body blushes and whispered promises of forever. Of young love. Her eyes shuddered closed as she tilted her head back, awash in memories, in those moments stolen in Gaius’s chambers, the library, the stables, her chambers, the dungeons, the forest.

But just like every other time she remembered those moments; the nostalgia was swiftly replaced. A gaping hole in the center of her chest, a boiling rage that burned from her center outward. Gasping, choking for air as the hemlock settled in. Sweat pooling on her brow as Morgause held her. Merlin’s words, his betrayal echoing throughout the years.

Ϟϟϟ

She was working feverishly to get the bindings tight enough. Uther was heavy, so impossibly heavy, she wondered if his sins made him that way. If it would be better to just leave him to the mercy of the Knights. But no, she banished that thought. For all his crimes, Uther still had some good left in him. He’d cared for her after her father passed. He helped raise her. And it would destroy Arthur to see his father dead. She could hear the stutter in Merlin’s voice as he offered her the waterskin. He looked so pale, his eyes shadowed and haunted, the lack of sleep evident for those left awake. But he still looked beautiful to her. A light amongst the darkness in Camelot.

“Here,” he leaned towards her, his hand shaking as he thrust the skin at her.

“I’m fine,” she looked back down at the work in her lap, he needed it more than her.

He was the one that could carry the most weight, the one who could help more than her. Though maybe, maybe she could use her magic. Her hands shook at that, no, she couldn’t. She didn’t know how, and even knowing that Merlin knew, that he didn’t think any less of her, magic was still wrong. Still illegal. Still carried a death sentence.

“No, you have some before I finish it,” she looked back up at him, his eyes were wide, that same haunted look he’d been wearing for hours in it, the worry for her, so prominent. She quelled the urge to place a hand on her stomach, even without knowing her condition, he looked out for her health before his own, because that’s who Merlin was—a good person. His eyes were fixed on her, and she felt a tremulous smile cross her lips. This was the man she loved, the man who cared so deeply for others.

She sighed and took the waterskin, her thank you falling short, she could never express how grateful she was, how blessed she felt at being at the center of his care. Uncorking the top, she brought it to her lips, taking a deep quaff, relishing in the cool way the water slid down her throat, she hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. Lowering it from her lips, she felt him take it from her hands as she turned back to her task. A sharp tickle built its way up her throat, and she coughed, trying to clear it. It worked for a moment, but then it was back, and she coughed again, and then again. The tickle turning into a burning heat that seemed to travel up the back of her throat. His back was to her, as she coughed, and she knew he was trying to give her space, to save her the indignity of looking so ridiculous in her fit of coughs. It was ridiculous really, she coughed again, she shouldn’t be coughing, she just drank some water. Her throat was burning now, a raging inferno that inflamed her airways, her breath catching. She gasped, and gasped again, bringing a hand to her throat as she did. Why couldn’t she breathe? Why was it hurting? Was she finally falling under the spell that plagued the castle? Was this what everyone had to endure? Wait…

She heard a sniffle, and as she looked up from her lap, she watched Merlin turn around. His eyes were filled with tears, the normal vibrant blue dulled by the water that leaked out. Her own eyes widened as she watched his eyes settle on her gasping form, no. No, he couldn’t. It was impossible—why would he? He wouldn’t, he just wouldn’t. he loved her, he wouldn’t hurt her. She gasped again, as he stood over her. His face had changed, gone were those caring, earnest blue eyes. They were cold now, even as they flooded with tears. Her lover was now her executioner. She let out a sob. What had happened to make him do this? Why?

She knew her accusations, her realizations were in her eyes as he nodded once confirming it all. He bent down and knelt before her, reaching for her even as she gulped for air and sobbed. How could he do this to her? Why? Why? Why?

His hands reached for her shoulders, but she recoiled, shoving him away as she tried to scoot back. How dare he touch her? He—he poisoned her! He poisoned her and their child. How could he? How could he?

Everything was burning now, burning, burning, burning. He pulled her into his arms, into his embrace as she grasped for air, for help, for comfort, her fingers clawing at his arms wrapped around her. The world went white for a second, then black, then the stone walls around them came back into focus. His arms tightened around her as she cried. Her thoughts a jumble of love and fear and painpainpain. She felt her eyes close and darkness descend. But she could still hear him, hear his heart beating as he held her in his arms. An explosion rocked the room, and she heard the rapid beating of his heart increase, as if it was pounding against the bars of a cell door, trying to escape. She heard Morgause’s voice. A recrimination of him. And she heard his reply.

“I had to.”

She felt new arms pull her away from him, away from the confines of his embrace as her sister’s words bounced around her skull, throbbing in time with the fluctuations of fire in her lungs of her gasps for air, “You poisoned her.”

Rocking back in the present, Morgana felt the tell-tale signs of her magic rearing its head of its own accord. She could feel the flash of heat along her eyelids as they shuddered closed and knew they had turned gold. Opening them she felt her control snap, an elastic band breaking under too much pressure and magic came pouring out. Fire flared to life in the fireplace across from her, flames shooting out to lick at the mantlepiece. Glass pictures shattered in a spray of fragmented edges. The floorboards shook as a mini-earthquake rocked Corvus Lane. Her mouth opened in a soundless shriek, the pain of those memories, of his betrayal immediate and present in her bones as she looked at that image of him, at the reminder of times before.

“Morgana?” the voice was hesitant but familiar, a low husky tone that was the antithesis of Merlin’s choked out “I had to.” She turned on her heel, her eyes still burning with golden flame and she watched as Remus took a step into the room, Sirius at his heels. The two men were watching her, green eyes with amber flecks and cold silver tracking her tear stained cheeks, her trembling arms, the damage of her outburst.

“Alright luv?” Sirius’s question sent her into a tailspin of hollow laughter, her sides aching at the cold, high pitched exhalations that fell from her mouth. Alright? She would never be alright? She couldn’t be. Even after a thousand years, she could never, would never forgive him for that betrayal. And his meddling now, first the properties and notes, then Harry’s birthday gift, and now this, this portrait of him. It was like he wanted her angry with him.

“Sorry, just. Just memories,” she stood upright, straightening her spine as she pulled herself together. She couldn’t and wouldn’t let him win, not this time. Merlin had broken her once, shattered her beyond recognition, and it had taken her a long time to piece herself back together, she wouldn’t let him do it again.

“Must have been something awful to instigate that kind of reaction.”

Something awful indeed. She clenched her fists and reveled in the pain of her nails sinking into her palm, into the current moment. Merlin and her were history. And whatever game he was playing now, she would persevere.

“It was in the past. I’m fine, I just—wasn’t expecting a reminder of it. Now what can I do for you two today?”

“Well… you just had an extreme outburst of magic. We were worried,” Remus took a step towards her, his hand outstretched as if to calm a wounded animal. Morgana rolled her eyes at the comparison, his lycanthropy made him more of a wounded animal than her after all.

“Nothing for you to be worried about. I’m quite alright now,” turning to pick up her wand and fix the shattered pictures she noticed the quiver in Remus’s arms. Ah, she’d forgotten, it was a full moon that night. “Do you need me to make another round of pain potions for tomorrow morning?”

The two men blinked at her sudden topic change. Remus knew she was deflecting her own issues to discuss his and he was willing to let it lie, for now. It was still hard to comprehend how understanding she was of his condition. She revealed her knowledge of it shortly after Harry’s fifth birthday with a wave of her hand and a draught of Wolfsbane Potion, citing that it was a worthy challenge for her skills and that she’d be happy to make it for him each month. Sirius had been over the moon about her nonchalant attitude, attributing her knowledge to her visions. In fact, much of her eccentricities were attributed to her Seer abilities, though Remus did wonder from time to time, about the aura of power that she seemed to exude.

“No, I should be alright with what we have,” Remus replied, noting the slight relaxation of tension in her shoulders at his words. Sirius moved towards her, his wand out as he silently repaired the destruction. He was prone to fits of anger himself, locking himself in his room and venting his rage at Pettigrew’s betrayal, emerging hours later covered in small cuts and a thin layer of down from the ruined bedding.

“Alright,” she nodded and smiled her thanks at Sirius’ final reparo, “Will you two be okay if Harry and I spend the night at Narcissa’s? She’s getting anxious about being alone ever since the Healers told her she was a high-risk pregnancy.”

“Of course,” Sirius replied. His cousin’s neuroses during the final months of her pregnancy was well known to everyone. The women of Morgana’s burgeoning coven had taken to coming over to Corvus Place at odd hours of the day, seeking advice from the library on how to ease Narcissa’s pregnancy. He wasn’t sure why it was so risky for her, and he hadn’t wanted to ask after the cold stare Andromeda had leveled at him while ushering her sister away after Lucius had made a pithy comment about her weak constitution. That had spurred him however, into drafting the documents to annul the marriage between the Malfoy ponce and Narcissa. With Arcturus handing more and more of the Black family responsibilities to him in the last few months, he’d taken to investigating the marriage contract that bound them to the Malfoys. Finding inconsistencies in not just the financial aspects (Lucius had drawn on Narcissa’s inheritance to fund something called the Knights of Walpurgis), but also the fact that it had taken an additional five years for the man to meet the obligations of a second child, and Sirius was sure he and Arcturus would be able to get Narcissa out of the marriage.

ϟϟϟ

Harry wondered what Narcissa’s baby would look like. Hermione had mentioned that sometimes babies didn’t look quite like their parents, and he hoped for his cousin’s sake that they didn’t look like Draco. Though he was his best friend, his cousin looked like his father and Uncle Lucius wasn’t a good man. He glared at Hermione whenever she was over at Malfoy Manor, and mocked Luna, even though she was his niece. Pandora, his half-sister, was one of the nicest people he’d ever met and was really close with Aunt Cissa and Mumgana and he loved her chocolate chip cookies; they were better than Bitty’s though he’d never admit that to the elf.

He and Draco were sitting in the library, reading quietly while their tutor, Grandpa Arcturus that day, watched over them. The old Black lord was a stern taskmaster when it came to pureblood etiquette and propriety, but whenever he watched them, he would give them candies after the lessons and tell them stories about their family.

They were supposed to be studying basic ari-the-met-ic but Harry had long since started to daydream. It’d been almost two years since Mumgana took him from the Dursleys and gave him this new life. He was almost seven, a very important age according to Padfoot, and he wanted to show how grown up he was to Mumgana and his Marauders.

Drake often told him about how once they got to Hogwarts, they’d learn how to make potions and cast spells with wands, but he wanted to be more like Morgana who didn’t need a wand for her magic. He wanted to do magic like that, but he didn’t know how. So, he’d come up with a plan to get one of the books that Mumgana read when she thought they weren’t paying attention. It was huge, and the cover was kinda scary, all black with red letters that looked like blood. He’d got Drake in on the plan, convincing his cousin that the book would teach them how to do all kinds of cool stuff, including kicking Lucius out of Malfoy Manor. Drake’s dad had become really mean over the last few months while Narcissa was bedridden with his little sister. He’d started snapping at Drake, telling him he wasn’t a real Malfoy and that he needed to shape up. Harry didn’t like it, dads were supposed to love and care for their kids, like in the stories Mumgana read him every night, and so he wanted to help his best friend.

Grandpa Arcturus was asleep in the armchair next to the fireplace, drool dripping down his chin as he lightly snored, making the two boys giggle. Nodding at his partner in crime, Harry slowly set his book down and got to his feet. After two years of steady meals and nutrition potions he’d shot up in height, growing six inches and looking rather tall for a seven-year-old, tall enough to reach the higher shelves when he stood on a chair at least. Signaling Drake to move, the blonde boy stood as lookout as Harry disappeared around the corner towards the back of the library with all the off-limit books. Palming the borrowed wand from Grandpa Arcturus, Harry waved it in the looping circle that he’d watched Mumgana and the other adults do when they wanted to get at the books.

He felt a sudden chill go up his spine, like he’d been dipped in a bath of ice water (like that one time when he was really sick and Padfoot and Moony had to take care of him while Mumgana was away taking an exam for her Transfiguration mastery), it was magic. Taking a step closer to the bookshelf, he felt the wards give way and started to head towards the book he’d been looking for. It was tucked in between two really dusty books, clouds of it puffing out and making him sneeze as he tugged the book out. A sharp pinching pain went through his hand as he tumbled back, the force of yanking the book out sending him falling to his butt. A sharp yelp fell out of his mouth, the pinching pain getting worse, it felt like something was squeezing his fingers tighter and tighter. Tears started to leak out of his eyes as he tried to drop the book, but his hands wouldn’t let go. This was worse than the time Uncle Vernon took a belt to his back for sneaking a glass of water in between chores. He yelped again, trying to keep quiet but it was a losing battle.

“Harry!” he heard Morgana’s distant shout, his eyes clouding over as he fell to the ground and out of consciousness.

Morgana had been working on a potion to ease Narcissa’s discomfort during the last few weeks of her pregnancy when she felt the wards on her darker section of the library go off. Disregarding it as Arcturus, she’d turned back to her potion, adding in ginger root shavings to combat nausea, when a sudden electric tingle shot down her spine, Harry was in danger. Flying down the hall, she nearly tripped over Draco who was frantically trying to wake Arcturus. Ignoring them she swept into the back half of the library to find Harry keeled over on the ground, his hand wrapped tightly around her copy of Magick Most Darke and Foul . Snarling, she let go of her magic, her eyes bleeding gold as her power washed over the cursed book, dominating it and binding it to her will. Magic thrummed through her, the Old Religion lashing out at the taint of black magic in her ward, purging it from his system, “ Yfel gæst ga þu fram þisse lichaman. Biþ hire mod eft freo. Ar ond heofontungol sceal þurhswiþan! ” The incantation fell from her lips in a flood of words, her long memory drawing on past knowledge to quickly heal her young ward.

“What happened?” the sudden gasp of Remus behind her alerted her to the presence of others in the room. Cradling Harry’s prone form in her arms, she lifted him and stood to her full height, her power flooding from her to coat the room in its heady force.

“He touched a cursed book, do not worry. I have healed him,” her voice sounded, off. Deeper, with an undercurrent of something old, something fey. Remus blinked and shook his head, her power clouding his senses. Morgana, with Harry in her arms, strode from the room, making for his bedroom with the werewolf and others on her heels.

Ϟϟϟ

“Foolish boy,” Morgana whispered as she smoothed the wild curls from Harry’s forehead, her fingers lightly touching the Sowilo scar along his skin.

“What was that?” Arcturus’s hoarse comment was echoed by his grandson as Sirius burst into the room shirtless and covered in motor oil, he’d been working on his bike when his godfather bond with Harry sparked, altering him to his pup’s state.

“Harry, for whatever reason, stole your wand,” here Morgana leveled a glare at the older Black, “And used it to slip behind my wards and steal a book from the forbidden section of the library.”

“I’m sorry,” the quiet voice of the boy in question startled everyone as emerald eyes slowly blinked open, “I just wanted to do magic like you.”

For a moment, Morgana was touched at his desire to be like her, but her anger at his actions soon won over. Leaning back, she ran a hand through her own tangled curls, it had been a while since she last brushed them or bathed at all for that matter.

“You foolish, foolish boy. If you wanted to do so you should have asked. That book, that book was most certainly not the answer.”

“I wanted to surprise you, and I’ve seen you read it.”

“Yes well I’ve had years of experience binding the dark to my will, years and years of it. And even then I know better than to just grab it. What you’ve done was incredibly dangerous Harry James Potter, and I want you to know you are in serious trouble.”

“Now wait a minute,” Sirius interjected, “Yes, he did something stupid, but he’s okay now and he’s learned his lesson, right pup?”

“No,” Morgana snapped before Harry could answer his godfather. “None of you understand how dangerous what he did was, how monumentally stupid it was.”

“You’re right we don’t, I too have seen you read that book,” Remus added.

Throwing her hands up, Morgana stood from the bed and began to pace, her thoughts running wild. How ignorant could they be, the book was the blackest and most foul, how could they not sense it, how could they not see how dangerous that was. Even she was cautious around it.

“You… you cannot possibly understand. I received that book from my sister over an age ago, and after all this time, even I Morgana le Fey have trouble controlling it’s darkness.” The words came tumbling out, her frustration at their inability to understand the danger loosing the truth upon them.

“An age ago? You’re not that old Morgana,” Arcturus scoffed, unintentionally causing the woman in question to let loose a shriek of fury at their blindness.

“No. No, you do not understand. I am Morgana le Fey and even I find that dangerous.”

“Yes we know who you are,” Remus stated slowly, his pale green eyes narrowing at the sudden tumultuous storm of power that embodied the woman before them. She was always so controlled, so purposeful, he’d never seen her so agitated or felt her power so wild, like a storm lashing at the confines of a cage.

“Stop being so willfully dense and listen to my words. I am Morgana le Fey, daughter of Uther Pendragon and Vivian le Fey, half-sister to Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King, and if I find the book dangerous, then you should as well. Harry very nearly lost his will and spirit, not even the ring Merlin gave him for his birthday several years ago could have saved him.”

Morgana, Uther, Arthur, Merlin, names of legend bounced around Sirius’ head, she was obviously touched, there was no way…

Remus felt something click in the recesses of his mind as he watched the woman before them pace back and forth, her eyes alternating between emerald and gold, the fireplace flaring to life as the pictures along the walls rattled. So much power, so much pain all in one body, one woman. It…made sense.

“Of course you are, I’ve known for some time now, you’re not exactly subtle. But you said yourself that he was fine, that his spirit was intact. He’s a boy, they do stupid things, and now he’s learned not to do this again, right?” Arcturus shrugged off her big reveal to level a glare at the small boy in the bed before them, and the boy in question nodded his head before lowering his eyes to pick at the blankets cocooning him.

“Wait what? You mean you believe she’s actually Morgana le Fey, the dark witch of the old legends?” Sirius turned towards his grandfather, surely the old man was finally showing his senility, there was no way…

Ϟϟϟ

Albus Dumbledore felt a shift, just the tiniest of shifts, but one nonetheless in the fabric of magic. Something very powerful had awoken in Britain, but he couldn’t tell if it was new, or very old. Leaning back in the plush chintz chair he popped a Bertie Botts Every Flavored Bean in his mouth, smirking as the cherry cola flavor rolled about his mouth. If a new player had entered the scene, perhaps he could gain some influence, and potentially a new ally.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve: And Comes to a Halt

           Morgana froze, she knew she hadn’t been subtle, she hadn’t tried to be, especially over the last few months. Arcturus figuring it out wasn’t surprising, so why was she so suddenly unnerved? It felt, awkward—not relieving to have it out in the open. She opened her mouth and closed it again, she didn’t know what to say, and Sirius’s reactions weren’t helping.

           “You’re all barking, there’s no way she’s Morgana Freaking Le Fey. I mean she is but not The Morgana. Right? Right?” Sirius had always assumed that her stories were veiled references to Hit Wizard work in the states. That the names Merlin, Arthur, and Guinevere were code words and names made up to shield identities. It made more sense than her being the real Morgana at any rate. But even as he pointed this out and pointed out the absurdity of her words, the animagus’s words fell as silent as the room itself, until a small voice piped up.

           “But she is Padfoot, she told me years ago when she adopted me from the Dursley’s. She’s shown me all sorts of cool magic she can do and her eyes go such a pretty gold when she does,” Harry opened his eyes, he’d been pretending to sleep, he hated when adults fought, especially his adults.

           “Harry, pup. I know it’s probably easy to believe anything, she’s your mum-figure. But this,” Sirius waved his arms around, “She’s not Morgana Le Fey, it’s impossible.”

           “Improbable, not impossible Pads,” Remus interjected, his eyes a brilliant amber as he continued, Moony has always felt a little off around her, her scent is too potent and he’s never been able to place it. “Besides, if you don’t trust her words, trust my instincts and my senses. Her heartbeat is steady and her voice hasn’t fluctuated. She’s not lying Sirius.”

           Sirius recoiled and looked from person to person, it couldn’t be true, it was just stories, stories and lies. Because if she was Morgana then that meant she had Power, Power enough to stop Voldemort in his tracks, Power that could have saved Lily and James.

           As if sensing his train of thought, Morgana intervened, “I was locked away Sirius, I spent over a thousand years trapped in the Crystal Caves by Merlin for my crimes against Camelot. I broke free only a few months before I rescued Harry from his…relatives.”

           Placing a hand on his shoulder, she hesitated, and then offered, “I can show you, if you like. I have a pensieve.”

           Harry’s head popped up again, he was annoyed that Padfoot was ignoring him. Mumgana wasn’t lying and Padfoot was being a stupid head for not believing her. But if she could show him her memories, then he couldn’t fight her on it.

           Sirius stared over at Morgana, her green eyes so eerily similar to Harry’s, she’d been helping them for the last two years without fail, never asking for anything in return beyond their support in raising Harry, perhaps he owed her the benefit of the doubt.

           “Yes, yes. Let’s hurry up and go do that, it’s getting late and I’d like to get home before midnight,” Arcturus grumbled, standing quickly and ushering them all towards the door.

           Harry made to get out of the bed only to be pushed back by a soft wave of magic, Morgana’s eyes glowing gold as she said, “No not you Harry, I can show you later. You need to rest now, and don’t think you’ve gotten out of any punishment for that stunt in the library earlier either.” Bowing his head Harry grumbled and tugged Mooey out from beneath him, cuddling the stuffed wolf close to his chest as he curled in a ball and turned his back on Morgana.

           Morgana rolled her eyes at his behavior and headed down the hall towards her office where she could hear the men congregating. The door was open before her and as she walked in she flicked her wrist to close it, effectively keeping Harry out if he tried to come and snoop. Turning to face the two Black’s standing before her desk she arched an eyebrow at Remus who was sitting quietly in the corner. The werewolf shrugged and reclined back, eager for the showdown that would take place. Letting out a huff, Morgana wordlessly summoned the pensieve from its place in the hidden quarter of her office. The shimmering silver bowl landed softly on her desk on top of papers she’d been working on involving the Auror budget that Amelia had asked her to overlook.

           “I am rather tired of your pointed questions and stubborn refusal to see the truth Sirius, and so while I will let you view my memories, I’m not going to answer your questions. I’ve hardly kept the truth from you, you’ve commented before on my stories from Camelot, just because you chose to believe they were fiction or something else does not mean I have lied, nor that they aren’t the truth,” and before he could respond she tapped her fingers along her temple, pulling them memories out and letting them gently fall into the pensieve. Jerking her head at the iridescent liquid, she motioned for everyone to dive in. Remus stood from his chair and joined the other two men, and the four of them, Morgana included, entered the memories.

Ϟϟϟ

Morgana straightened her back as the memory solidified around them, she knew they would have questions, but her ability to answer them was nullified by her very presence in the memory. Taking in the vibrancy of the colors around them, she was swept away, sinking into the past and reliving it. They would figure it out on their own.

The bandits were rallying behind their leader Kanen and Morgana felt a sudden chill grip her as she wondered, was this it, was this the end? Banishing the thought, she swung her sword, slicing through the leather padding of a man as he tried to skewer Arthur on his spear. Blood sprayed across her face as her blade cut through to his neck, but she blinked it away, turning on her heel to block the blow from the man behind her. Her senses were running wild as she twisted and swerved, her feet following a pattern that she’d learned from secret lessons with Leon in her youth. Ducking behind a hut she watched as Merlin made his way through the fighting to Arthur’s side, his face paling as Kanen tried to bring his sword down on the prince’s head. Arthur managed to step out of the way, his own sword arcing up to slash at the man’s arm and Morgana felt her breath give way, she hadn’t even known she was holding it.

Their plan was falling to pieces around them, the villagers weren’t the fighters they needed to be, and even though Arthur had tried, they weren’t going to win. Tears built at the corner of her eyes as she threw herself back into the fight, she couldn’t let these men win, she couldn’t let sweet Hunith down, she couldn’t bear to see the pain in Merlin’s eyes. With a shriek she tore forwards and took down a man who was creeping up behind Merlin, her sword meeting his skull in a violent splash of blood and brains and bone. Merlin whirled around, his blue eyes blown out to a deep black with fear, but as he met hers, they softened a bit and he let a small smile creep across his lips. All too soon the battle drew them back in, and she lined herself back to back with him and Arthur, her eyes frantic as she looked for a missing Gwen.

The sudden tornado that whipped through the air, throwing Kanen’s men about in a violent array had her rooted to the ground. That was, magic. Her eyes flitted from villager to villager, looking for who summoned the storm, for who saved them. But she couldn’t see any signs of a sorcerer. A pained cry drew her attention back to her friends and she felt her heart break a little as she watched Merlin collapse with his friend Will in his arms.

“It was me,” the words startled her and for a moment she felt her whole world seize, did Merlin just admit to having magic? But as the words continued in a choked sort of gurgle, she realized it wasn’t Merlin who spoke, but his dying friend. Walking closer to them she felt awkward, like an outsider, Merlin’s pain evident as his friend brushed off Arthur’s comments on magic. How he must have felt, so scared, so alone, yet using magic to save his village, only to end up with an arrow in chest. She didn’t know what she would have done if it had been Merlin—shaking her head she took a step closer and placed her hand on Merlin’s shoulder, her friend needed her, her thoughts could wait.

…        

            The guards had roused her from her sleep, or rather they had alerted Gwen who’s cries woke her. Striding into the throne room with naught but her dressing gown hastily donned over her shift, Morgana beseeched Uther to listen to her. Morgana felt her heart pound away in her chest as she tried to find a reason, a method to Uther’s madness.

“T reason?!”

“Yes, Morgana, treason. The blacksmith was consorting with a known enemy,” Uther’s response was so cold, so calculated, how could he say Tom was an enemy? He was Gwen’s father.

“Enemy? What enemy?”

“Tauren. The leader of a band of renegade sorcerers sworn to bring down the King,” Arthur wasn’t helping he was only making things worse. Morgana tried to get both of them to see reason, Tom was a man of Camelot, he was Gwen’s father. But he wasn’t listening.

Her temper rising, Morgana spat out her final words as she strode off, Gwen would need her now more than ever.

“You execute Gwen's father, and I will never forgive you. Never.”

            Uther was mad. She’d known it for awhile now, but as the guards dragged her along the floor behind him to the dungeons, she knew that nothing, nothing would ever change the king. He was a monster. The guard holding her threw her into the open cell and she landed hard along the straw lined stone. Holding in a yelp at the sharp pain of her hip hitting stone, Morgana lifted her head to glare at Uther. So much for him caring for her, for loving her as a daughter if this was how he treated her when she disagreed with him. A second guard grabbed her arm, yanking her to her feet as he pulled her to the cell wall, clamping a shackle around one wrist and then another, tightening the bonds until she felt the harsh pressure along her bones. She couldn’t hold in the yelp then and she recoiled as Uther stepped closer, his eyes wild, a deep black emerging from the center, his pupils blown out in rage.

“And here you will remain until you learn your lesson.

Morgana spat at him, all her years of lessons and pleasantries gone in the face of his cruelty.

“Th en release me because I've learned it already! That you care not for me, or anyone but yourself! That you're driven mad with power! That you're a tyrant!”

  She would never forgive him for this.

…

            Camelot was holding yet another tourney, and Morgana was running ragged trying to make sure that the castle was prepared to host all the visiting lords and ladies. With no Queen, Uther had tasked her with the preparations, stating that as his ward, it was her place to do so. Running a hand through her curls, she tried not to scream from the stress that was swallowing her whole. Arthur had disappeared on a hunt and was of no help either way, Gwen was running errands for her in the lower city, but after the incident with Tauren she was hesitant to push her dear friend. More than once Morgana had found herself wondering what might have happened had she gone through with the plot, if she had killed Uther… shaking her head she banished the thought, it would do her no good. Putting her mind to the task at hand, she headed down to the kitchens to speak to the head cook about the cakes she had planned for the feast at the end of the tourney.

            Turning a corner she stumbled as her hem caught beneath her boots and went face first towards the ground. Arms caught her before she could complete the fall and she found herself pulled upright into a pale chest. Tilting her head up she started to thank her savior only to meet the mischievous blue eyes of her current nemesis. Cursing herself for showing weakness in front of him, Morgana pulled herself from his arms, trying not to notice how at once she felt bereft of the brief warmth that being in them had inspired.

“Do you always have to be there when I fall Merlin? Or are you angling for Arthur’s spot as a hero?” her tongue was her greatest weapon after all, and she used it to put space between her and the manservant.

“No milady, though I do wonder why you’ve been so clumsy lately, it’s not like you,” his voice was soft and Morgana found herself drawn to look up at his face once more. He was so open, so expressive, she marveled at how he managed to survive in the snake pit that was the court of Camelot.

“I…find myself tiring very easily, I haven’t been sleeping much and with all the work to prepare for the tourney…”she trailed off, she found it easy to tell him the truth, their friendship had blossomed since the trip to Ealdor and though she tried to distance herself from him, it was becoming increasingly harder to do so.

“Are Gaius’s potions not helping? I can look into something stronger for you milady?”

            Waving her hand she dismissed his offer, it was sweet but she knew deep down that no potion or concoction of Gaius’s would be able to help her. In a fit of what she would later tell herself was stress induced whimsy, she reached out and pulled Merlin’s arm into her own, tugging the lanky man into her as she did.

“What have I told you about calling me milady, we’re friends are we not Merlin? Call me Morgana,” she laughed as he stammered and tried to cite propriety, but as he did, she noted he hadn’t pulled away from her touch.

…

            “Magic isn’t evil Morgana, you aren’t evil,” Merlin entreated her to listen, his blue eyes wide as she sobbed. The druid camp had been a disaster, Uther’s men, led by Arthur trampled along her peaceful refuge. They slaughtered the peaceful people who tried to help her, all because she left, because she was dark. If she didn’t have magic, those people would still be alive. Curling deeper into herself she turned her back to the man sitting next to her, why wouldn’t he just leave her be, she was poison to everything she touched. A hand brushed along the back of her neck, sweeping her hair away from her face. She could hear his murmurs, entreaties to listen to him, to not blame herself, but how could he know? He wasn’t a monster. She was.

…

            The Witchfinder was a monster. Morgana knew it in her bones as he leered across from her, his questions increasingly prying. As he leaned closer to her, his fetid breath of goat cheese and tainted wine she held the bile that rose in her throat in. She had to stay strong in the face of this man. Merlin had been working nightly with her on her nightmares, staying with her and talking until she fell asleep, guarding her from the darkness within, she had to be strong for him here now.

“And these dreams, have they gotten better or worse since Gaius began treating you?”

“Worse,” as soon as she said it, she knew she’d damned Gaius. Cursing herself inwardly, Morgana floundered, freezing for a moment before fleeing quickly to Merlin’s side.

…

            Tugging at her sleeves for a moment Morgana shifted her feet and then knocked at the door. Something was driving her forward, she needed to meet this mysterious woman, her very presence called out to something deep inside Morgana.

            The door opened and Morgana stepped inside, startled as the blonde appeared before her. Fighting the urge to bite her lip, Morgana gathered herself and started.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. I wanted to introduce myself. I’m the Lady Morgana.”

The other woman smiled, and Morgana felt something inside of her sing out as she replied, “I know who you are.”

Remembering the duel, Morgana reached out and laid a hand on the woman’s arm, “How is your arm. You were wounded.”

“It’ll heal soon enough,” the woman pulled away from Morgana’s touch before tilting her head slightly as she looked at Morgana, “You look tired.”

Nodding her head Morgana responded, “I haven’t been sleeping.”

 " I know for myself how troubling that can be,” the other woman reached out and adjusted a curl that fell in front of Morgana’s face.

 " Could it be that we’ve met somewhere before?”

At the negative shake in response Morgana felt her stomach sink, but it quickly settled as she added, “I’m glad we’ve met now.”

Changing the subject before she could analyze her feelings about that statement, Morgana nodded her head towards the beautiful bracelet on the blonde woman’s wrist, “That’s a beautiful bracelet.”

“ It was a gift. From my mother. Please, I would like you to have it. It's a healing bracelet. It will help you sleep,” taking a step away from the proffered jewelry Morgana wondered at the generosity of such a familiar stranger.

“I couldn’t. You must be tired. I will leave you to your rest,” turning to leave, Morgana felt rather than heard Morgause’s parting words.

“I hope you will remember me fondly.”

…        

            Merlin looked weak after the incident with the druid girl, he had cared for her, perhaps even loved her, and no one had noticed, no one had seen his pain, except for Morgana. She’d seen him brush away tears as Arthur boasted about slaying the beast. Gathering herself and pushing aside her own feelings she pulled the quiet man away from the celebrations, his soft steps following behind her as they made their way to her chambers. Shoving him through the doors she left him awkwardly in the entranceway of her room as she poured drinks for the two of them. She took a sip of her own, savoring in the honeyed mead before thrusting the second cup into the motionless man. He took his own drink, his eyes seeming to clear as he realized where he was.

"Morgana I can’t be in here! What will the guards say! Gwen,” she brushed off his words with a quick laugh.

“The guards didn’t notice us, and Gwen has the night off. I thought you could use a break from the meatheaded atmosphere and a quiet drink with a friend, was I wrong?”

“No… thank you,” he whispered, letting his gaze fall as she sat at the foot of her bed. Cocking her head she watched as he alternated between sipping at his cup and staring off into space.

  “Would you like to talk about her?”

“What!” he stammered, a light blush crawled up his neck as he tried to deny it.

“Merlin, several of my old dresses were gone after Gwen said you were in here. I don’t blame you for wanting to help her, I’m only sorry you didn’t trust me enough to ask for my aid. And I am sorry that you lost her,” she let her words trail off into the silence that embodied the room.

            For several moments she could have sworn she felt a boiling heat rise along the air, but it swiftly dissipated as Merlin sighed and sat down next to her. Tentatively, Morgana reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, and with that he collapsed into her arms, his body shaking with silent sobs.

…

            The last of the visiting nobles had Morgana sagging into the walls, her body aching from a night of dancing with potential suitors. She managed to have Gwen sneak her out before the night became too unbearable and now after finally seeing the last of them off, she could go and soak her aching muscles. A snort behind her alerted her to another’s presence and she wheeled around, her tongue lashing out as she saw who it was.

“And I suppose you think it’s amusing that they treat me like a piece of meat to be pawed and slobbered, over do you Merlin?”

“Not at all milady, I was merely thinking good riddance to bad rubbish, especially Lord Owain, I thought you were going to stab him yourself after his wandering hands last night,” falling into step with her as she headed towards her chambers, Morgana couldn’t help but wonder when it became so natural to turn to Merlin, to be in his company. Ducking into an alcove, she dug her hand into his arm and pulled him in behind her, laughing as he stumbled over his feet.

“What was that for?”

  " For laughing at me, you could have helped you know,” she arched an eyebrow as he shook his head, vehemently denying that he could have helped her.

  “I’m just a servant, they would have had my head.”

“Well you’re my friend, I wouldn’t have let them,” her heart clenched for a moment at his ill-humored joke, because those men certainly would have hurt him if he had intervened. And a world without Merlin… he was still laughing, his eyes crinkling as his grin stretched from cheek to cheek. He was ridiculous. And she loved him.

            Before she knew what she was doing and could stop herself, Morgana was leaning forward and brushing a kiss along his lips. They were chapped and rough, likely from being in the training yard with Arthur all morning and Morgana felt a flush flood through her body. She just kissed Merlin! As she went to pull back, fully aware that while she had kissed him, he had not leaned in, had not kissed back, an arm came up to caress her chin. Opening her eyes, eyes she hadn’t remembered closing, she fell into the deep blue of Merlin’s as his thumb stroked her cheek, and then he leaned forward and kissed her back.

…

            “I think Arthur’s enchanted…again,” Merlin burst into her chambers, his hair wild as he threw his arms around. Sighing, Morgana set her brush down and turned in her chair, thankful she’d dismissed Gwen for the night already, Merlin’s ability to be subtle was lacking.

“Why would you say that?”

“He’s all mooneyed over Lady Vivian, he told me it was his destiny to woo her by the end of the night.”

" And?”

“And we both know he’s in love with Gwen,” collapsing on the bed Merlin ran a hand over his face and Morgana moved to sit next to him, running her own hands through his hair in an attempt to soothe him.

“Perhaps this is him attempting to get over that? He has done more ridiculous things in the past,” she whispered, placing kisses along his neck in an attempt to distract him. There was better things to do then discuss Arthur Blockhead Pendragon’s love life after all. Merlin moved away from her lips though and sat up, shaking his head as he continued to rant.

" Yes but he’s acting exactly like when Sophia enchanted him. And he hit me! On the face,” sure enough there was a light red mark marring his cheek and Morgana felt a surge of anger flow through her, how dare he hurt Merlin.

“What do we do then?”

“I talked to Gaius and he said he’s going to look into it, I guess we just need to keep Arthur from doing anything and jeopardizing the peace talks.”

            Morgana nodded and went to place a kiss on his neck when she froze as a horrid thought occurred to her, “Was he in bed when you left him?”

            Merlin bolted from her room and she shrugged on a dressing gown before heading after him, if Arthur was enchanted, again, then Merlin might need her help.

            The sight that meets them in front of Lady Vivian’s rooms sent Morgana into a tailspin of giggles as Arthur pounded on the door, and the lady in question screeched at him to take his chicken and leave her alone. Merlin hurried to Arthur’s side as she cloistered herself in an alcove, hopefully Merlin could settle the idiot soon so they could retire to her chambers and she could explore his neck, and other parts of his body some more.

…

            Mordred was there, in Camelot. Pulling the boy into her arms Morgana held him tight, he was so young, so full of youthful innocence, it pained her to think of how Uther would snuff it out in a moment. Mordred, who was so like her, deserved better. Looking up from her embrace, she responded to the man who brought him, “Who are you?”

  “My name is Alvarr,” something about his name niggled at the back of her mind, something dark, but she brushed it aside and continued to listen, “I, too have been hunted by Uther since I was a child.”

  “You have magic?” Morgana was surprised he would openly admit such a thing to the King’s ward, regardless of her reaction to Mordred, it was suspicious.

  “ Yes, My Lady. As did my parents, and their parents before them. They were fortunate to live in a time of peace, before your king declared war on sorcery.” His words were soothing, there was someone else out there that lived just as she did, who felt the same fear she felt. A shudder went through her, and though she didn’t mark it at the time, she began to fall under his thrall.

  “I, too, have known Uther’s cruelty,” she felt compelled to respond, this was someone she could empathize with, someone who understood…

  “Magic is not a crime. It is a gift. I wish to walk free and without fear,” here she nodded her head, he was right, he was so very right.

…

            In the aftermath of Alvarr, Morgana could feel a distance between herself and Merlin. Though he claimed to understand she was under his thrall, Merlin had yet to seek her out and had left her to her own devices at night. Fed up with his evasive tactics, Morgana decided to seek him out herself. Heading to Gaius’s chambers, the physician informed her that Merlin was out in the woods gathering herbs and plants for him, and so Morgana threw on a cloak and headed out to find her wayward lover.

            Stumbling over yet another tree root, she quickly began to rethink her impulsive plan, heading into the forest on foot was a rather ridiculous thing, especially as the sun began to move in the sky and it passed midday. Cursing at herself, she rounded a particularly large tree trunk and ran smack into Merlin. Buckling under the sudden weight, Merlin collapsed back onto the forest floor and Morgana landed on top of him.

Merlin blinked at the sudden pain of meeting the ground and looked up at his attacker only to see her throw off her hood and reveal Morgana’s face. Jabbing a finger into his chest, she began to lay into him.

“You said you understood that what happened with Alvarr was a mistake, that I trusted him and fell too easily under his thrall, but you’ve been avoiding me for over a week now. Why?”

Grabbing her arm, Merlin held it away from his chest, wincing as the dull pain from her repeated jabs settled in.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately. I haven’t meant to disregard you Morgana, I just…”

“You just what? I am sorry for what happened with Alvarr Merlin, but I cannot make it right if you aren’t there to let me. I… I love you and I don’t want to lose you over this,” Morgana let her vulnerabilities out, admitting to the feelings she’d harbored for the man for far longer than she had realized.

Merlin lay beneath her stunned, he had strong feelings for Morgana, from the first day they met really, but he’d always pushed them aside, so sure that she would never return them, could never return them. Even as they started to see each other at night, and he coached her subtly on her magic he denied it. When she kissed him, he let hope into his heart, hope that it might be more than a passing dalliance for her, and to have it confirmed…

He surged upward and caught her lips with his own, coaxing her into a deep kiss. Meeting his sudden passion with her own, Morgana let her worries subside and her mind be overtaken by the heat she felt when being with him. Deepening the kiss, Merlin took a chance and flipped her over onto her back, hovering above her as she lay splayed out along her cloak on the forest floor, leaves tangling in her long dark curls, before leaning back down and trailing kisses along the column of her neck. Morgana let out a soft moan as he paid special attention to the crook of her neck and shoulder before moving downward to her slightly exposed bust. Not content to just let him explore, Morgana let her hands slide under his shirt, gliding up his back to feel the compact muscles, built from being Arthur’s servant. A smirk flitted across her lips as she managed to pull his shirt and neckerchief off in one fluid motion, exposing the pale expanse of his torso to her greedy gaze. Not to be undone, Merlin quickly found the ties on her dress and began to undo them, his nimble fingers flying through the complicated knots that Gwen painstakingly tied that morning. Freeing Morgana from her dress, Merlin marveled at her nearly nude form, a sheer shift all that was between him and her. Tugging at his pants, Morgana whined at the knot that impeded her path and her eyes flashed gold unknowingly and the material slid down his legs. Surging up to kiss him, Morgana moaned in his mouth as Merlin’s hands found the apex of her legs, inwardly chanting gratitude to her foresight in forgoing underclothes before seeking him out. Stroking Morgana into a frenzy, Merlin met her frantic kisses, teeth and tongue sliding together, pulling away only when they finally became one.

…

Everything was burning now, burning, burning, burning. He pulled her into his arms, into his embrace as she grasped for air, for help, for comfort, her fingers clawing at his arms wrapped around her. The world went white for a second, then black, then the stone walls around them came back into focus. His arms tightened around her as she cried. Her thoughts a jumble of love and fear and painpainpain. She felt her eyes close and darkness descend. But she could still hear him, hear his heart beating as he held her in his arms. An explosion rocked the room, and she heard the rapid beating of his heart increase, as if it was pounding against the bars of a cell door, trying to escape. She heard Morgause’s voice. A recrimination of him. And she heard his reply.

“I had to.”

She felt new arms pull her away from him, away from the confines of his embrace as her sister’s words bounced around her skull, throbbing in time with the fluctuations of fire in her lungs of her gasps for air, “You poisoned her.”

…

            Her memories began to slide together. Morgause tending to her raging fever after the poisoning. Childbirth months later. Handing her daughter off to the druids. Learning more and more magic from her sister. Visions of Merlin betraying magic over and over again. Returning to Camelot. The mandrakes. Setting the serket on Merlin. Betraying Uther. Betraying Arthur. The army of the dead. Cenred’s forces and Morgause. Merlin knocking Morgause back. Sacrificing Morgause to the veil. The Cailleach warning of Emrys, “ You are right to be afraid, Morgana. Your enemies will rue this day and all the destruction it brings, but you must beware. Tearing the veil between the worlds has created a new world, and you will not walk through it alone. The one they call Emrys will walk in your shadow. He is your destiny, and he is your doom.”

           Snapping out of the pensieve Morgana fell to the floor, gasping for air as the sudden onslaught of memory became too much. Scrubbing at her tear-soaked face she noted that the men were still in the pensieve viewing her memories. With a shaky hand, she summoned a glass of firewhiskey from her liquor cabinet, knocking it back and refilling it as she sat slumped on the floor. The Callieach’s warning still echoed in her ears, destiny and doom, if only she had heeded the destiny part and forsworn her revenge on Uther. She had sacrificed everything for vengeance and all it had brought her was death. Never again she swore, never again would she let her darkness consume her to such a point.

           Setting the glass down she slowly pushed herself of the ground and to her feet, she would go check on Harry while the three men relived her darkest moments.

ϟϟϟ

Sirius wasn’t sure what he expected when they dove headfirst into her memories, but watching a beheading in the ancient times as a man screamed about witchcraft and sorcery wasn’t it. Turning from his spot at the window, he stumbled back as he saw the object of the memory. Morgana’s hair was long and thick, curls trailing down her back, her dress ornate and unlike anything current fashion embodied. Remus was standing behind her, his eyes wide as he took in the murder below them. Arcturus was walking around the chambers they found themselves in, taking in the stone walls and thick drapery along a massive bed in the center of the room. A flash of movement caught the corner of his eye, and he watched as Morgana leaned further against her window pane. Leaning out with Remus shifting behind him, they searched for what had caught Morgana’s eye beyond the obvious cruelty. A young man was making his way past the crowd, a red neckerchief the only remarkable thing about him. Shrugging it off, Sirius began to wonder what would happen next, Morgana had intimated there would be many memories.

The grey wash of the shifting memories had Remus puzzled, their introduction to a magic hating Uther Pendragon confirmed much of the information he’d read about the mad king. Considering the man was Morgana’s father, Remus was starting to hold a new appreciation for her relative sanity. In fact, he mused, it made her treatise on Camelot and the use of magic that he helped edit all the more amusing, as she had taken a very straightforward and honest approach to Uther’s rule. The new memory grounded itself, and he choked as Morgana entered a great hallway, a vision in red. Her shoulders were bared, her dress collecting at the hollow of her neck, all eyes were on her as she smirked and threw her head back, a burst of laughter falling from her lips. A blonde man walked up and pulled her into a dance, laughing along with her as they spun around the room. The young man in the red neckerchief from before was standing off to the side, holding a pitcher of something, he was obviously a servant of some sort. The blonde man dancing with Morgana turned at the end of the song and called out, “Merlin!” Sirius reached over to smack Remus’ arm as the red neckerchief man stumbled forward and answered, “Yes sire?”

“Be nicer to him Arthur, he’s still new to the position of your manservant,” Morgana’s chiding voice sent the two marauders into a panic as they realized the two men were those of legend, Arthur Pendragon and Merlin themselves.

“Moony did you?”

“Yeah Pads, I heard.”

Shaking his head, Arcturus observed more of the room, his heir was acting ridiculous stumbling around at the sight of Merlin, even such a great and renowned wizard had to have been young once, it wasn’t really that startling.

The memory shifted again and they were following the blonde man, Arthur, as he strode down a corridor before entering a side chamber. The door opened behind them and they turned, seeing Morgana enter.

“Say what you like about the food, but you can’t beat our feast for entertainment.”

Confused, Sirius leaned forward, his head cocked quite like his animagus form.

“Morgana, I’m sorry, I should have made sure you were alright.”

Shaking her head, Morgana shrugged off Arthur’s response, “Disappointed actually. I was looking forward to clumping a couple around the head with a ladle.”

Remus snickered as Sirius started acting out Morgana beating people with a ladle before questioning what exactly was going on. Before the animagus could respond, Arcturus interjected, “Merlin was poisoned, I could hear the guards outside talking about it.”

“Merlin, the Merlin. Poisoned!” Sirius wheeled back, throwing his hand across his forehead in mock distress.

“Stop being an idiot, we’re missing what they’re talking about. Besides, Merlin obviously wasn’t killed before Arthur could even be king,” turning back to the conversation still going on Remus caught the tail end of Arthur’s last comment.

“If I don’t make it back, who will be the next king of Camelot? There’s more than just my life at stake.”

“And what kind of king would Camelot want? One that would risk his life to save that of a lowly servant?” Morgana paused and reached out, running her hand along Arthur’s sword. He’d tossed it on the table in a fit of rage, but Morgana knew he would need it. Picking it up, she drew the blade from it sheath, “Or one who does what his father tells him to?” holding it out, hilt first, she waited until Arthur took the blade.

“Nice speech,” Sirius nodded his head, Morgana definitely had a way of inspiring a man.

Everything shifted once more and the three men were transitioned to yet another memory. Morgana was standing in front of them in nothing but a sheer robe wrapped around what appeared to be her sleeping shift. Her hair was a wild tangle over her shoulders as she paced back and forth before the throne.

“Treason?!” Morgana’s cry had them inching forward, tiptoeing past the guards despite the fact they couldn’t see them.

“Yes, Morgana, treason. The blacksmith was consorting with a known enemy,” the king’s response startled them, from the memories they’d seen, Gwen was Morgana’s dear friend, the idea that her father would commit treason was startling. Especially after Merlin saved him from the plague!

“Enemy? What enemy?” nodding his head, Remus began to see the turning point in Morgana’s relationship with Uther. The man had little room for compassion or common sense, he seemed to react on violent impulse at the slightest hint of magic.

The back and forth between the two became more and more heated and Morgana finally spat out the words Remus had been expecting to hear, “You execute Gwen’s father, and I will never forgive you. Never.”

Sirius lashed out at Uther, his fist sliding through the shadow’s throat as the man snarled down at a chained Morgana. His friend was pulling at the manacles around her wrists, her eyes red and dripping with tears as Uther locked her in the dungeons.

“You care not for me, or anyone but yourself! That you’re driven mad with power! That you’re a tyrant!”

Morgana was right, absolutely right. Sirius couldn’t believe Merlin kept saving the man. He was a monster who locked his own daughter in the dungeons for questioning him.

“Do you always have to be there when I fall Merlin?” Morgana snapped as Merlin helped her up from a stumble. Nudging Remus with an elbow, Sirius wiggled his eyebrows and leered at the two of them.

“Oh those two definitely boned.”

“Don’t listen to her!” Remus snarled, his eyes burning amber as Morgause adjusted a curl along Morgana’s face. The woman’s entire presence felt false, even in Morgana’s memory and he was loathe to see her touch his friend.

“Could it be that we met somewhere before?” at Morgana’s innocent question, Remus cursed, knowing that her falling under her sister’s spell was inevitable, after all, he’d practically read her memoirs, even though she’d written them under the guise of an academic paper.

“I hope you will remember me fondly.” A bittersweet smile flitted across his face as he remembered how Morgana characterized her late sister as a power-hungry, biased bitch who twisted Morgana into a dark mockery of her former self.

Arcturus wasn’t sure why he had been invited to view Morgana’s memories, but he wasn’t going to question the chance to see who she was. The past few years had shown her to be an ally of House Black, but even so, knowing more of her past would be advantageous. Watching her fend off ham-handed suitors was also amusing.

The last of the visiting nobles had Morgana sagging into the walls, her body aching from a night of dancing with potential suitors. A snort behind her alerted her to another’s presence and she wheeled around, her tongue lashing out as she saw who it was.

           “And I suppose you think it’s amusing that they treat me like a piece of meat to be pawed and slobbered, over do you Merlin?”

           “Not at all milady, I was merely thinking good riddance to bad rubbish, especially Lord Owain, I thought you were going to stab him yourself after his wandering hands last night.”

Merlin’s response was amusing, and informative. As a passive witness to her past, Arcturus had gathered that the two had feelings for another, even when the boy had the flirtation with the druid girl. This memory proved it as the two leaned in and kissed one another.

“I think Arthur’s enchanted…again!” Merlin’s outburst sent Sirius into a groaning fit as he handed over the galleon that he’d bet to Remus.

“How thick can the Once and Future King be that he’s constantly enchanted!”

“Magic is not a crime. It is a gift. I wish to walk free and without fear,” nodding his head at Alvarr’s words, Remus suddenly shook his head, shaking off his agreement. Alvarr was a monster, and a manipulator. And Morgana fell right into his trap.

“You poisoned her!” Morgause’s shriek of rage had the two marauders lashing out at the phantom woman, stunners shooting through her incorporeal form. Arcturus however, was facing Merlin as the man wept at the prone form of his lover.

“I had to.”

“No,” Remus’ whisper echoed across the memory as it dissipated around them. Merlin had actually poisoned her! Why?

“Please take her,” Morgana handed the small bundle to a druid in dark green robes. Her eyes were dry, her tears had been cried out before now. The bundle shifted and a small blue eyed baby peeked out from beneath the blankets. “Her name is Alannah. I can’t…I can’t raise her. It’s not safe.”

The three men blinked and then blinked again. Morgana had a daughter.

The mandrake screams were twisted, a dark mockery of the wails that they had learned in Herbology could kill a grown man. Dark magic had shattered the plants, morphing their screams into a poisonous haunting.

“That is a brutal, if poetic way to kill Uther,” Arcturus nodded, he approved of the retribution at hand, even though he knew Merlin would inevitably save the day.

“What is it with them and armies of the dead?” Sirius groaned as Morgana and Morgause took over Camelot with their second undead army. Morgana sat in the throne with her back straight and her head held high, but her eyes seemed hollow, empty, her hands white as they gripped the edges of the throne.

“Why is she still going along with this, it’s obvious she doesn’t agree with Morgause,” he continued.

“Because she has nowhere else to go. And because she does believe, somewhat,” Remus replied.

“ You are right to be afraid, Morgana. Your enemies will rue this day and all the destruction it brings, but you must beware. Tearing the veil between the worlds has created a new world, and you will not walk through it alone. The one they call Emrys will walk in your shadow. He is your destiny, and he is your doom. ”

“Well that was terrifying, no wonder she goes full evil,” Sirius muttered.

“She shouldn’t trust prophecy at face value like that, even from a being such as the Cailleach,” Arcturus said.

Morgana was leaning over an unconscious Merlin, her tangled hair and bloodshot eyes were all they could see as she ran a nail along the prone man’s cheek. Her shack was horrifying, and Arcturus was heard muttering about going from pureblood to muggle and her obviously declining standards.

“Why did you have to stand against me? We could have been great.”

“Yes well you have taken a bit of a trip onto crazy train love,” Sirius mocked as she continued to stroke Merlin’s cheek, “And I doubt Merlin is into this kind of bondage.”

“Sirius!” Remus’ rebuke did nothing to stop the other man’s mocking though as he continued.

“I’m all for going against the family and stuff, but Arthur has done nothing to her and she keeps trying to kill him. Uther isn’t even king, not really and she’s still lashing out at him. And he’s her brother.”

“It’s not like Arthur has done anything for her cause though. However twisted she may be, Morgana has a point. Magic is still reviled and illegal on pain of death, and Arthur has done nothing to change it.”

“She’s become cruel, no better than Uther himself.” Remus shook his head as Morgana laughed at the small crust of bread tossed at Gwaine. The man had fought hard and long for his food and for Gaius and Morgana mocked him. She was becoming the very monster she reviled. He had a hard time stomaching that image of her with the Morgana who stroked Harry’s hair as he fell asleep and sang him lullabies.

“She has,” Arcturus agreed. There was a reason Dark families followed her, and it wasn’t for her loving personality.

“What happened to you Morgana?” Arthur’s question echoed what they’d been thinking, and they watched as Morgana paused, her eyes softening for a moment. “I thought we were friends.”

“As did I,” Morgana seemed to shake for a moment, her eyes locking with her brothers. But as she blinked, something hardened and her voice did as well, “But alas, we were both wrong.”

“You can’t blame me for my father’s sins,” Arthur pleaded, and Sirius nodded vehemently in agreement.

“It’s a little late for that. You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel about me and my kind. You’re not as different from Uther as you’d like to think.”

“Nor are you.” Arthur’s words were the death knell for their relationship as Morgana narrowed her eyes at him, stalking towards him like a wolf before its cowering prey.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you, Arthur Pendragon. Not even Emrys can save you now.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Sirius muttered, bitterly laughing as he was proven correct and Morgana’s power was rendered impotent.

Camlann was horrifying. Sirius wasn’t sure if it was the blood soaked battle field, or the sight of Merlin as an old man striking down scores of men like a wrathful god, but the whole event was tinged in evil. Watching as Morgana tortured the knights of Camelot to find Arthur he questioned every interaction they’d ever had. And as she stalked up to an injured Arthur and exhausted Merlin, he knew their relationship would never be the same.

“Hello Emrys,” Morgana’s eyes went brilliant gold and Merlin was tossed aside. Turning to her brother, Morgana hovered above him and began to monologue, each word more horrifying than the last, “I won’t let you die alone. I will stay and watch over you, until the wolves gorge on your carcass and bathe in your blood.”

“No, the time for bloodshed is over,” Merlin’s voice caused Morgana to turn, “I blame myself for what you’ve become…but this has to end.”

Laughing Morgana shook her head at the armed Merlin, “I am a High Priestess. No mortal blade can kill me,” her words are cut short as Merlin thrusted Excalibur through her chest.

The world seemed to darken all at once, and they heard the faded voice of Merlin say, “Goodbye, Morgana.”

“Was that it?” Sirius asked, he was confused. Morgana didn’t die? She was there with them, the memories had been abundantly clear that the woman in the memory and the one they knew were the same. Even if they had a hard time believing it.

“I’m not sure,” Remus responded, usually they would have left the pensieve with the finished memory, but they were suspended in the black, unable to see anything beyond each other. Before he could continue to question their state, the darkness abruptly shifted to a blinding white light and the three men found themselves in a glittering crystal cave.

“Morgana,” Merlin’s voice echoed along the walls, he seemed taller now than ever before. He was wearing a long robe, much like the one Gaius had worn in Camelot and was leaning along a carved staff.

Morgana blinked up at him, she’d felt the blade pierce her stomach, the cold bite of dragon forged steel sealed her mortality, how was she alive?

The question seemed to spell itself out across her face and so Merlin continued to talk.

“I healed you, and brought you here. Arthur needed to see you die for his own piece of mind, but death is too easy an escape for all the pain you’ve caused. I wasn’t lying when I said I blamed myself for what you became, but you are at fault too…” he paused, running a hand over his face and through his hair before sighing and continuing, “I thought I loved you once, and maybe that was just another one of your lies, but I can’t just let you continue to be so evil. So I brought you here, fitting isn’t it, that the place you stole my powers should be your tomb?” he arched an eyebrow, a cruel mockery of his usual gaiety.

“What?” Morgana couldn’t speak, her voice cracked like dry gravel scraping against stone.

“You are sentenced to imprisonment Morgana, for your crimes against Camelot and the Old Religion, I sentence you to a life imprisoned in the Crystal Caves until you repent your foul deeds and prove to me that the Morgana I fell in love with was real.”

Morgana tried to question him further, but she fell to the floor in exhaustion, her face pale and wan as she watched the warlock exit the cave. The three men watched her as she sat there for several long minutes, her face cycling through emotions, vacant confusion, pinched anger, and then finally, a sigh of acceptance as she leaned into a pillar and closed her eyes, and the memory faded.

           Sliding out of the memories, Sirius headed straight for the liquor cabinet to his right, his mind still submerged in the blood that stained Morgana’s hands. Remus was dry heaving into a trashcan Arcturus transfigured, he couldn’t believe that the woman they’d been living with for several years now had committed such terrible crimes, but her memories had been clear. Together the three men sat down on her office chairs in silence, their minds collecting to focus on one thought: where do we go from here?

Ϟϟϟ

           “So now you know,” Morgana didn’t look up from her book, her hands trembling against the pages as she waited for the vitriol, the verbal backlash for all her sins.

           Harry was sound asleep in the bed before them and so they kept their voices at an even tone as they addressed her statement.

           “You were a monster.”

           “Worse than Voldemort.”

           “You lost sight of any goal or strategy and became a power-hungry moron, much like Voldemort,” Arcturus’ comment had her stifling a snort, she did agree with him there, though, she did agree with all of them really, and so she said so.

           “I was a monster.”

           “And now? Why should we trust you with Harry?” Sirius asked, his eyes darting between his godson and his friend.

           Setting her book on her lap, Morgana reached over and placed a hesitant hand on Harry’s head before brushing his hair away from his scar.

           “I had a thousand years to reflect on my sins. A thousand years to watch others make the same mistakes, the same monstrous actions as I did. And it changed me, I’d like to think for the better. I haven’t been false these last few years, I just haven’t told the entire truth.”

           Remus inhaled, checking her scent for any change as he listened to her steady heartbeat, for all that she was a good liar, he was still able to catch her, from time to time at least.

           “And?” Sirius pressed her.

           “And I love him. I love him so much it feels as if I have never been whole before now. He is my son, maybe not of my blood, but of my heart. And I will kill anyone who tries to hurt him, or take him from me,” at the last part her eyes glowed gold as she stared him down.

           “Good, then I have nothing else to say.”

           “What? Aren’t you going to tell me I should stay away? That I would ruin him?” Morgana questioned.

           “No,” Remus stepped in, “We’re not. You did awful, awful things in the past. But so did we during the war. I’m not saying that you’re absolved or anything, but you’ve obviously changed. And, if I’m being perfectly honest, Harry needs you. You got him out and away from the Dursley’s and Dumbledore’s supervision. He won’t trust or love anyone else quite like you.”

           Sirius nodded at his fellow marauder’s words and then added, “Besides, you are our friend before anything else Morgana, and while I’m still having a hard time believing the truth. Not,” he paused and shook his head as she started to interject, “Because I don’t believe your memories, but because it’s just absolutely bloody insane that it all happened in the first place.”

           “Oh,” she whispered and the room fell silent.

           “We will talk about your rather abysmal political machinations back then though. You’ve improved greatly since then, but I don’t want you making any of those mistakes again,” Arcturus’ said, shaking his head as Morgana looked up at him in disbelief, “Oh like you’re the first person I know to commit heinous crimes, get over it girl, and start planning our next step.”

           Straightening her back, Morgana let a smirk slide over her face. Arcturus was right, it was time to stop living in the past. Her eyes flitted to the two marauders, she was touched they still cared, still claimed to be her friends. It was a first for her.

           “We love you Mumgana,”

Harry’s whisper sent everyone into a fit of laughter as Morgana wheezed out “I should have known you were faking it you little sneak.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen: The Board is Set

            After the exhausting journey down memory lane, Morgana threw herself into plotting out their next moves. Meeting with the coven to discuss new legislation being passed in the Wizengamot, to running around chasing Harry when he got home from school, to flirting with Sirius and Remus and the boundaries she’d placed between the three of them. Letting them view her memories had been a torturous task but it did benefit their relationship. The openness that existed between the three of them now was startling at times, reminding her eerily of her past with Merlin.

            As Harry grew, so did the rest of Corvus House. Sirius began working in earnest with his family to take back the Dark faction that had grown from Voldemort’s roots in the Wizengamot. Remus earned his Mastery in Ancient Runes and began working with Ted Tonks as a legal apprentice. Morgana though, had begun moving with the coven, reaching out to gather more women to the cause as she herself gained multiple masteries and started a tutoring program for muggle-borns straight out of Hogwarts who didn’t know where to go after graduation.

            After Harry’s eighth birthday she started to join Sirius and the Black’s in their moves in the Wizengamot and facing off against the twinkly eyed Chief Warlock. Her first real encounter with his faction though, happened away from the marble halls and on the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley.

            Luna’s seventh birthday was heralded a mass trip to the Alley with all the children so she could celebrate in with them altogether. Gathering at Corvus House early that morning, Harry, Draco, Neville, Luna, Hermione, Theo, and Blaise were pumped full of cinnamon rolls and hot cocoa by Sirius before passed into Morgana and Remus’ hands for the rest of the day while Sirius napped. Susan Bones was going to come, but had recently contracted a case of pentapox, a milder cousin to the dreaded dragon pox and so was curled up in her bed at home, though Amelia had dropped off her gift for Luna. Xenophilius and Pandora were off hunting some wrackspurt infestation in the wilderness of the Appalachians, leaving Luna to be cared for by Narcissa and Morgana in turns.

            Gathering the children towards the floo, Morgana had Remus step through first before ushering them through one after the other. Theo tripped and fell in head first shouting out “Diagon Alley”. Blaise sniffed at that display and dropped the floo powder with a casual toss of the hand. Draco rolled his eyes at Blaise’s departure and took Luna by the hand before following. Hermione coughed at the ashes in the air before asking Morgana how exactly floo powder worked, was it a chemical reaction that sparked the innate magic in the air? Neville blushed and stumbled through a thank you before disappearing in the green flames, leaving Harry alone with Morgana. Taking a handful of the gritty powder he sent a cheeky grin at his Mumgana before disappearing in a flash, the words “Diagon Alley” prompting Morgana’s swift teleportation, she hated to use the Floo Network, the soot and ashes clung to her for days afterwards.

            Arriving in a whirl of air she surveyed the gaggle of children swarming Remus before the entrance of Gringotts. Several goblins were standing guard in front of the marble building and sent smirks at Morgana as she approached. Her acquaintanceship with the Director was well known among the goblin horde as was her true identity, though they had sworn not to reveal it.

            “Settle down please. Luna has requested that our first stop be Magical Menagerie so if everyone could please stop jumping over Remus and follow along?” Morgana let her words trail off, an indulgent smile forming as Harry elbowed Draco into compliance and the two started ushering the other kids to follow Morgana down the street.

            Remus let out a low chuckle as he led the tail end of the group, his amusement at Morgana’s ability to command the children evident. He’d volunteered to help her chaperone this birthday outing purely to see her interact with the kids. After he’d been relegated babysitter too many times to count over the years, mainly because every parent had insisted Sirius was far too irresponsible and childlike to do so, he’d been craving revenge and the birthday party seemed like a perfect chance. Narcissa had mentioned she would be joining them later for tea, but until then, Morgana was the child monitor.

            The group made their way into the brightly colored shop, dodging several disgruntled wizards along the way. Morgana sneered away complaints about loudness and ill-mannered children as they walked. Following the children into the shop, she smiled as they broke off into pairs, descending on the animals with fervent excitement.

            Hermione led Neville along towards the back of the shop, the cages of kneazles and crups drawing her attention. Luna and Theo were peering into the cages of several brightly colored birds, Luna’s bright blue eyes gleaming as she stroked the plumage of a particularly lurid green bird. Draco and Harry made a beeline straight for the snake tanks, Draco’s excited bounce as they loomed over the scaled reptiles evident. Blaise led a bemused Remus into the corner to look at the owls on display, jabbering away in Italian at the man.

            “Aunt Morgana come here,” Draco’s voice drew her attention to the mischievous duo by the snake tanks and Morgana side stepped loose crup and made her way over to them.

            “Yes Draco?”

            “Look. Harry can talk to snakes!” Draco gestured wildly over to Harry who was leaning over the tank and quietly hissing at the snakes within.

            Morgana watched as a particularly large snake moved closer to the edge of the tank, its head bobbing up and down as Harry hissed at it. Closing her eyes she murmured a spell under her breath to hear what they were saying.

           “Do you like being in the tank?” Harry’s voice carried a light tone of concern, he was such a sweet boy.

           “It is tight, we need space to roam.” The snake replied, its tongue lashing out to taste at the sudden shift of power in the air. “The female beside you knows of what we speak. Ask her if you can free me. I think I would like to go home with you, little speaker.”

            “Harry, would you like to take the snake home with you?” Morgana asked. Harry lit up, his green eyes glowing as he nodded and hissed back a reply. Shaking her head Morgana ruffled his hair and added, “In English please.”

            A blush formed along his cheeks, trailing down to his neck as he shuffled his feet and responded, “Please. Nagini needs a home, the cage is much too small for her and she’s still growing.”

           Oh Harry, looking down at him Morgana felt her heart melt just a little bit more. Stiffening her back she tried to adopt a sterner tone with him, being a parent was more than just making sure he was happy.

          “What about Hedwig? Will you be able to take care of both of them and make it so neither are neglected?”

            Harry bit his lip and looked down at Nagini again before responding, “I know I can. Please Mumgana, Nagini needs me, I can tell.”

            The snake in question was staring at her, dark eyes pulling her in as her tail twitched back and forth.

            “I wish to stay with the young speaker great lady,” Nagini hissed.

            “Alright then, we’ll work out the logistics when we get home. Now come on,” Morgana flicked a finger at the cage and lifted Nagini out, grunting as the massive snake slid up her arm to rest on her shoulders. “It’s Luna’s birthday, let’s see how she and the others are doing.”

            Harry followed after her, alternating between giggling with Draco about his new pet and stroking the back of Nagini’s tail as it swung down Morgana’s back. The rest of the kids had congregated with Luna in front of a case filled with lizards. The small blonde was holding a blue iguana close to her chest, its claws were entwined with her soft blonde curls. She blinked up at Morgana her lips curling into a coquettish smile as she asked the question in her eyes before asking out loud.

            “Do you think I could have him? His name is Archibald and he likes long walks in the park and curling up with a cup of tea.”

            Morgana turned to Remus who was standing next to her, raising her eyebrow at the girl’s rather, eccentric outlook. The werewolf shrugged and shook his head, Luna was definitely Pandora’s daughter.

            “Your parents gave me the go ahead before they left so as long as you’re sure you can provide…Archibald with a good home,” Morgana’s voice trailed off as Luna lit up with a loud squee and began dancing around her friends, swinging Archibald around like he was her dance partner.

            “Yes, yes he will. I will love him and care for him and hunt wrackspurts with him. And he will be my squishy,” smooshing the iguana next to her face Luna squeed again as its tongue flicked out to lick her cheek.

            “Goddess save me from overly excited children,” Morgana muttered as she headed to the counter to pay for Nagini and Archibald.

            “Miss Morgana,” a soft voice called from behind her as she settled a stack of galleons on the counter. Turning she was met with several other eager faces as Hermione held out a flat faced orange kneazle, Theo held a wriggly black and white crup mix, and Blaise had a small horned owl perched on his shoulder. Sighing she turned to look at Remus for support, but the man had deserted her to the kids’ side and was helping Neville pick out an owl while Draco cuddled with a kneazle kitten.

            “Oh bloody hell,” Morgana hissed under her breath before digging into her money pouch and forking over the allotted amounts for each animal. The menagerie owner smirked at the growing pile of gold on the counter and Morgana quelled the urge to hex the smug man.

            Ten minutes later found the small troupe walking out of the menagerie, each child clutching their new pet close. Deciding to send the pets back to the house for Sirius to care for when he woke up, Morgana had them gather together in a circle and with a flick of her wrist, each animal disappeared, with the noticeable exception of Nagini who hissed at her and tightened her grip on her shoulders at the thought of leaving. Resigning herself to the snake’s presence, Morgana let her be, pleased as Harry alternated between talking with Luna about their new pets and hissing with Nagini.

            Making their way down the alley the group followed Luna’s plan for the day and ducked into the sweets shop next. Remus was rather eager for that trip himself, his chocolate stash for the next full moon had been greatly depleted the prior week, when Morgana on a three-day bender of studying the inheritance laws of Wizarding Britain rose from her study and went on a rampage in the kitchen, devouring everything sweet in sight. Sidestepping said witch, he made his way over to the chocolate section, his chocoholic disciples of Blaise and Draco following in his wake.

            “They don’t have any Belgian chocolates,” Blaise sniffed in disappointment.

            “No but they do have those Swedish truffles your mom brought for your birthday,” Draco replied, proffering the ornate blue box to the other boy.

            Snickering at their elitist tastes, Remus loaded his basket with a variety of cheaper milk chocolates, before indulging in some of his favorite Parisian chocolate bars.

            “Remember, only one box today, so pick wisely,” he stated between mouthfuls of samples the store clerk held out to him. Being a regular was rather nice.

            Mumbling their understanding the two boys went back to bickering over the quality of Belgian chocolates over Swedish.

            Morgana was observing the rest of the children, Hermione at her side as the daughter of dentists chirped about how too much sugar was bad for your teeth.

            “And if you don’t brush regularly, you can get cavities which are little holes in your teeth which are really painful,” Morgana shushed the young girl gently as Neville was turning a rather alarming shade of puce.

            Luna, Theo, and Harry were staring at the stacks of Sugar Quills and Fizzing Whisbees, trying to pick between the two. Luna herself already had a small selection of Chocolate Frogs in her basket as well as a deluxe edition of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. Theo had selected a few Licorice Wands for himself while Harry had snuck in a box of Blood Pops to prank Morgana with.

            The bells at the shop doors chimed as a slew of new customers entered the shop. Turning from her watchful gaze over the children, Morgana watched as a gaggle of redheaded children entered the shop followed by a plump witch in threadbare robes, obviously their mother. Two identical boys sidled up past Morgana and Hermione, nodding their greetings before they made a beeline towards the Licorice Wands and Blood Pops. A trio of increasingly older boys politely made their way towards the Sugar Quills, smiling and joking as they introduced themselves to Harry and Theo, Luna lighting up as she recognized the young girl trailing behind them. A younger boy shoved Draco aside as he was walking towards the counter with his purchase in hand. Draco tripped over a display stand and landed face first against the ground.

            Rushing forward Morgana helped Draco up, checking for any injuries as she did, her brow creased as he inhaled shakily holding his wrist gingerly up for her inspection. Her eyes flashed gold and confirmed that it was sprained. Turning on her heel she pulled Draco to her side as she stalked down the boy who pushed him, causing him to trip. He looked close to Harry’s age and had a spattering of freckles along his nose and a curious smudge of dirt along his cheek. He was blithely ignoring her as he grabbed fistfuls of chocolate frogs in his hands.

            “Excuse me, I believe you owe Draco an apology for shoving him,” Morgana said, narrowing her eyes as the boy scoffed at her.

            “He’s just a Malfoy,” the boy sneered, eerily resembling Lucius.

            “Excuse me? That’s uncalled for and incredibly rude,” Morgana’s voice rose, drawing the attention of the rest of the shop, including the boy’s mother. Her raised voice also drew the attention of Nagini who’d been dozing beneath Morgana’s curls. Unwinding so she could look out at everyone, she yawned showing her fangs, and the boy screamed.

            “It’s a snake! A slimy snake. Mom!”

            Oh the naïve prejudices of children, Morgana cursed internally as the boy shrank away from her, his eyes bulging in fear. The dumpy witch she’d correctly assumed was his mother pushed her way forward, knocking into Remus to get to her child. Running her hands over his face she cooed at the boy.

            “Oh Ronnie are you okay?” she sent a venomous stare at Morgana, “That woman and her snake didn’t hurt you did they?”

            “Hurt him? He ran into my charge and sent him sprawling to the ground, I’ve never met a more ill-mannered child before,” Morgana snapped. The other redheaded children had gathered around them and were snickering at the description of their brother.

            “My Ronnie would never do such a thing,” the woman snapped.

            “Well he did, and I saw it. Draco deserves an apology.”

            “So what if I did, he’s just a slimy Malfoy. Dad says they’re all rotten,” the boy replied, glaring over at them.

            “Ron, that is not something we say,” the woman reprimanded her son before pulling herself up and glaring at Morgana. “I apologize for my son’s words, but you shouldn’t have such a dangerous pet in here, it’s scaring the children.”

            Arching an eyebrow, Morgana looked around the shop and the only child that looked remotely scared of Nagini was standing right in front of her.

            “Thank you for your apology, but he really does need to apologize himself for shoving Draco, not you,” Morgana replied, she wouldn’t let this bigotry stand.

            “Ronald, apologize,” the woman snapped at her son, reaching out to smack his ear when he glared mutinously at her.

            Shuffling his feet, the boy looked up beneath his orange bangs and muttered, “Sorry.”

            Draco huffed and cradled his wrist tighter to his chest, and Morgana felt her ire rising. What kind of parent raises a child to be so rude, so incapable of sincerity?

            “You okay Drake?” Harry appeared at his friend’s side, his green eyes glowing with concern.

            “Yeah, I’ll be alright Harry,” Draco muttered back, and the redheaded boy’s head shot up.

            “Harry? As in Harry Potter? What are you doing with this slimy snake?”

            “Excuse me?” Harry drew himself up to his full, rather short, height and glared at the boy in front of him.

            “Harry Potter, oh Albus has been so worried about you,” the plump witch suddenly moved forward, reaching out to ruffle Harry’s hair. Morgana snarled and snatched her wrist before it could come close to Harry, no one touched Harry like that without his permission.

            “Do not touch my son,” she snapped, her power seething beneath her skin. Nagini hissed in agreement, coiling around Morgana’s shoulders to face the short witch.

            “Your son?” the woman asked recoiling as Morgana glared at her.

            “Yes, my son. I adopted him years ago, he’s mine,” Morgana said. Harry leaned into her side, his warmth cooling her anger a bit.

            “And you are?”

            “Lady Morgana le Fey,” Remus stated as he walked up behind Morgana, placing a hand on her shoulder in a show of support.

            “A Dark Witch then,” the woman snapped, and Remus growled low in his throat his eyes flashing amber.

            “Morgana is a good person and you have no business judging her or intervening in her guardianship of Harry.”

            “I do if she’s unfit,” Molly replied and her children began to shuffle awkwardly behind her, wanting to be anywhere but there.

            “I am most certainly not unfit. His previous guardians were, and I saved him from them,” Morgana said, her eyes glowing a light gold.

            “So you admit to stealing him!”

            “No! I legally adopted him; his previous guardians signed away all rights. All the paperwork is filed in the Ministry, and I do not have to justify myself to you or anyone of Albus Dumbledore’s ridiculous party.” Morgana turned on her heel and sent a stack of galleons and knuts to the counter before gesturing for the children to follow, she was done with the conversation, done with the prejudice.

            “Bye Ginny,” Luna hugged her friend for a second, “Your mom should really get her head checked out, the wrackspurts have really gotten to her.”

            “Excuse me,” Molly blustered and tried to go after Morgana as she led the group out of the shop, but her eldest son intervened.

            “Let it go Mum, you’re out of line and you know it.” The taller boy tugged his mother along, pulling her away from the confrontation, and her other children followed along like a gaggle of squabbling ducklings.

            Standing there for a moment Morgana tried to control her breathing, dimly she noted Remus gathering up the children and getting their purchases out of the way. She knew that she’d be facing opposition for who she was and for her adoption of Harry, but it still hurt, especially since part of her still felt, lacking. She’d caused so much destruction in her time, so much pain…a sharp jerk of her arm followed by a warm body colliding into her leg startled her from her thoughts. Looking down she saw Harry wrapped his arms around her torso from one side as Draco attacked her from the other.

            “She was rude and out of place Mum,” Harry muttered before burying his face in the folds of her robes.

            “She’s a Weasley, they’re all ill-bred,” Draco added.

            “She’s very strict, mum and her don’t get along too well, but Ginny’s nice,” Luna piped up from behind them, smiling as Morgana inclined her head at her.

            “Thank you, children,” she said, wrapping her arms around the two already hugging her. “Now let’s finish up Luna’s birthday celebration, shall we? We have that reservation at Florean’s in an hour and I know Luna you wanted to hit Flourish and Blott’s?”

            Luna bobbed her head up and down in affirmation and a slight high pitch squeal came from the back of the group where Hermione stood. Leading the children out of the shop and down the road towards the bookstore Morgana felt the tension in her neck dissipate slightly. She knew she’d have a migraine later from getting so riled up, but for now, with the children, everything was alright.

Ϟϟϟ

          A stack of papers teetered on the edge of her desk as Morgana whipped through her study, her hair flying about her head as she gathered together the documents she’d need for court that day. After Luna’s mostly successful birthday party eight months prior, Morgana had been besieged by owls from the Light side of the Wizarding World questioning her parentage of Harry. Sirius helped the best he could, using his status as Harry’s godfather and blood-adopted father to help mitigate some of the cries, but his reemergence as a Black was a strike against him in the eyes of many, Molly Weasley was one. The ill-timed meeting with the plump witch in Diagon Alley during Luna’s birthday had sparked a low level feud between the housewife and Morgana, one that Morgana was quickly becoming annoyed with, especially as she prepared to bring forth a new Bill to the Wizengamot suggesting that muggle-born families be alerted to their children’s magic sooner, and the children themselves integrated into the Wizarding society.

            The coven had spent the last few years creating various charities and organizations that pooled together funding to create a magical primary school, one that Harry and friends were to be enrolled in the following year. This new bill would have muggle-borns introduced to magic and integrated at the first incident of accidental magic. The sensors that the Department of Improper Use of Magic used would be copied and a new Department for the Integration of New-Bloods (Morgana’s term) would be created using the donations that the coven had been gathering. Morgana spent the previous night rehearsing her speech with Harry and the Marauders, gauging their reactions to see how best she present herself. She hadn’t spoken like such in public in a very long time and had been having rather severe flashbacks to her times as Queen of Camelot, where her reign had been darker than not. Harry had suggested she wear her green robes rather than black to negate any “scary Morgana” vibes, stating that the green also looked pretty and matched their eyes.

            Touched at his forethought, Morgana had pulled out a thick satiny set of robes, the same emerald green that she and Harry shared. They were adorned with black stitched runes along the sleeves that spelled out wisdom and cunning and the hem was trimmed with the Pendragon crest, a subtle nod to her hidden title as Lady Pendragon. Looking at the clock nestled amongst trinkets Harry had made for her in primary school, Morgana cursed at the time and summoned all her necessary papers to her before disappearing in a whirl of air.

            Reappearing before the great doors of the Wizengamot chambers she inhaled sharply before pushing her way through her head held high and back straight. Murmurs echoed through the hall as Augusta Longbottom finished her introduction of Morgana and the new topic at hand.

            “Holding four Masteries in Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and History of Magic, Lady Morgana Le Fey is here to introduce a new bill regarding an earlier integration for muggleborn witches and wizards into our society. I yield the floor to her.”

            Inclining her head at Augusta, Morgana strode to the stand in the center of the chamber, the rows upon rows of spectators looming about her sending her stomach into a fit. Muscling down the anxiety that squirmed within her she arranged her papers neatly in front of her and began.

           “Thank you, Regent Longbottom, for that lovely introduction. I am pleased to stand before my fellow witches and wizards of the Wizengamot today. I would like to start by addressing the rumor that I am the guardian of one Harry James Potter.” Morgana’s eyes narrowed at the brightly dressed Albus Dumbledore in his seat as Chief Warlock. “I am in fact his legal guardian, I adopted him several years ago after stumbling into him in a rather unfortunate situation. His previous guardians were unfit for raising a magical child and willingly signed over custody, you can find all of the paperwork filed here in the Ministry.”

         A feral grin lit across her face as Dumbledore bristled from her words and the whispers around her increased. “Now, to the matter that brought me here today. As many of you know, I was not raised here in Britain, but I have quickly learned to call it home these past few years. In adopting Harry, I’ve been immersed in the rich culture and history that we possess as we learn it together. It’s been truly a blessing.”

          Pausing she smiled and let the murmurs settle before continuing, “However, it’s come to my attention that there is a severe lack of education for our young ones. Of course, families can self-teach their children or hire governesses, but I’ve found that to be a cold and less influential environment for children. And so, I enrolled Harry in muggle primary school.”

         Enraged shouts filled the room as men and women took to their feet.

        “How dare you!”

        “Filthy muggle lover”

        “Disgusting betrayal of our bloodlines.”

        Morgana waited for it to die down, a smirk dancing across her lips when everything finally subsided.

        “Yes, it is a startling move, one that I was hesitant to make. But I couldn’t give Harry the full breadth of knowledge that a child would need, and the socialization the muggle primary schools allow for children is incredibly beneficial to their growth. I’ve included several studies done by both magical and non-magical professionals alike,” she flicked her wrist and papers floated out to the stands. “And it was a good decision. Harry began interacting with larger groups of children and was learning more and more by the day. His friends in our world, often expressed jealousy that his lessons were so varied.” She let out a soft laugh before continuing. “Imagine my surprise however, when Harry upon attending school, befriended a young muggleborn girl, completely ignorant of her powers, her status as a witch. Naturally, I had to remedy that.” Morgana let her eyes flicker over to the spectator stands where Hermione was seated with her parents, her cheeks flushed as she was singled out.

         “After discussing options with several other esteemed members of the Wizengamot, I reached out to her family and brought them into the fold. It’s been two years now, and the young girl has flourished in our world, attending magical lessons with Harry and several other children. Together they are shaping a new path for their generation, one that I wish to champion and speak for amongst you all here today. Muggleborns are integrated into our society the day they turn 11, not before and not after, not even if they’ve experienced significant magical accidents. This is not only detrimental to their own learning, but ours as well. How are we to expect them to embrace our traditions, our values if we do not teach it to them? That is why I propose that we introduce these children far sooner into our society, integrating them in at the first signs of accidental magic, and enrolling them in the first ever magical primary school. There they will be taught our histories and our traditions, taught about the foundations of magic, that way they are fully prepared for Hogwarts once the time comes. That’s not the end of what I am proposing however.” Lifting a finger to forestall any interruptions, Morgana continued. “I propose that we enroll our own children into these schools, so that they may learn side by side with their new peers and that we may create a new world, one of equal understanding and balance.”

          The entire Wizengamot erupted into action, men screaming abuse at Morgana even as others shouted their support for her. The women had a more subdued response, their eyes calculating as they looked down at the witch before them.

          After a while the fervor died down and a man stood in the furthest reaches of the stands. Marking Lord Nott, Theo’s father Morgana waited patiently for what he had to say.

          “How do you suggest we finance this new school of yours Lady Le Fey?”

          “Thank you, Lord Nott. Over the last few years, I and many like minded witches have been puzzling over this very thought and have come together to form a coven.” Silence reigned as people stood and sat in equal measure, bound by shock. There hadn’t been a coven, a formal coven in over two hundred years. “Together we drafted this bill and together we raised the money necessary to fund the school I’ve proposed here today. We’re ready to donate it for the cause as soon as the bill is passed.” And not a moment before Morgana thought as several faces lit up with greed in the crowd.

          “Who would staff your fantasy school?” another voice echoed from behind her.

          “I have a list of potential instructors, I attached it to the proposed bill, including a financial analysis of what the school would cost and how much revenue such an endeavor could potentially bring our nation. Think of it, ladies and gentlemen, Wizarding Britain could be the first nation to have a government backed magical primary school. The notoriety we as a country would gain with this move, well it would be spectacular.”

           Heads began to nod and Morgana felt a vicious glee rise within her, they were listening. And she didn’t even have to resort to less than savory measures to get them to do so.

          “And what of Hogwarts? Would the children go there then? I wouldn’t want to see any of our precious children led astray to go outside of Britain for their schooling,” Albus Dumbledore had finally entered the arena. But Morgana was ready for him.

          “But of course they would attend Hogwarts, it’s the oldest and longest lasting magical school in the world. It’s historical value and prestige is momentous. I cannot think of why they wouldn’t go there.”

          “But you cannot guarantee it can you? What’s to stop you from continuing on with your school and usurping Hogwarts?”

          “Chief Warlock, I would never,” Morgana shook her head and lowered her eyes to her platform, “Hogwarts is an institution, we would never challenge her. We merely wish to bolster the education of the children, so that once they reach Hogwarts, they’re all on equal footing. Is that so against your beliefs that you would challenge this?” The old man’s eyes glinted dangerously as Morgana blinked up at him, drawing him off of his pedestal and onto the ground with her.

          “No, that is not what I am saying. I’m merely worried…” his voice trailed off as Augusta interrupted him.

          “Oh stop being so contrary Albus. Lady Le Fey may not be in your political party but her idea is a sound one and I for one am interested in reading her little proposal.”

           Dumbledore leaned back in his seat his lips pursed in a visible frown as Augusta prompted the flood of Morgana’s Bill into the hands of each member of the Wizengamot.

           “Thank you Lady Le Fey, for bringing us your bill. We shall review it and come to a decision by the next session,” Amelia’s voice rang across the chamber, making her presence known.

            Stepping back from the platform, Morgana turned on her heel and headed out the door. Her bill was in the hands of the Wizengamot, she’d said her piece, now she just had to wait and hope that the machinations of the coven behind the scenes had been enough to pass it.

Ϟϟϟ

            Harry was still asleep, but she was sharing her morning tea with Remus and Sirius in the lounge. The two men had spent the previous night battling Remus’s more lupine side and looked a little worse for the weather. Carding her fingers through Remus’s short curls Morgana sipped at her tea, luxuriating in the softness of the curls along her fingers and the weight of Remus’s head in her lap. Sirius was laying against her, his head nestled in the crook of her neck as he lightly snored.

            A loud croak preceded Dagda’s arrival as the large raven swooped in through the open window and dropped a note on her lap before winging up onto his perch in the corner of the room. Reaching over Sirius, Morgana set her tea down and ran her nail under the Longbottom seal along the seam of the note. Flicking the letter open a full-throated laugh fell from her lips as she read the simple message from Augusta.

            The Bill finally passed, though the idiots took long enough. Time for phase two. Tea is at three, Andy’s bringing the whiskey.

            Time for phase two indeed.

Ϟϟϟ

            Bright blue, purple, and pink rubber ducks floated along the gently ebbing current of the lake. One by one they bobbed past Morgana as she stood in the center of the water. The skies over head were cloudy, rain clouds pooling together threatening to open up and pour down onto the world below. Bending at the waist, Morgana dipped her hand in the water watching the rivulets sluice off her hand and back into the lake. Lifting her head at a sudden noise behind her, Morgana turned and fell back into the water in shock. Lounging on a giant yellow float, hair down to his shoulders and a strange goatee, skin lightly tanned and with a martini raised in a toast to her was Merlin.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen: Horcrux Hunting 

           Morgana reeled back as she woke, her head slamming into her headboard. Her nightmare revealing a foreign presence in the house, foreign yet familiar. She blinked and rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she registered who it was that had breached her wards. Merlin. 

           She’d been having the damn rubber duck dream for months and now, now he chose to appear. She could feel his presence near. It’d been so long since she’d felt his immense power. Merlin. Emrys. Of course Merlin would appear as such, on Harry’s tenth birthday. He always had spectacularly shitty timing. 

            Getting to her feet she threw a dressing robe on and headed downstairs. A light flickered in the library and she made her way down the hall and into the room before she could question her judgement. The doors opened before her to reveal the warlock lounging before a roaring fire sipping at a martini.

             “You’re an unmitigated arse.”

             Merlin nodded and gestured for her to sit across from him. A glass of wine was already waiting for her.

             “Today, you had to show today. After everything over the last few years and you pick today?” It had been a long an emotionally draining day already, and seeing Merlin here after all these years, it hurt. 

             Deep blue eyes blinked up at her, he looked older there, in those eyes, age weathering them to illuminate the long years they both had lived.

             “Today was the best day to do so. You collected the last horcrux, your plan is in motion, and I am here to help,” he said.

            “I’ve been restructuring the Wizarding World and getting it ready for its reveal to the larger world, not to mention the subsequent darkness that follows, for the last five years. What the bloody hell have you been doing?” Morgana arched an eyebrow at Merlin as he shrugged and reclined along the couch a martini glass in hand.

             “Oh you know, little of this little of that. I spent several years working with the Flamel’s you know.”

             “Doing what?”

             “…creating the perfect Pina Colada.”

             “You absolute idiot. It’s a wonder how you managed to defeat me at every turn in Camelot.” Morgana threw her hands in the air, how could the great and powerful Emrys be this, this imbecile. No, she corrected herself, not an imbecile, just an idiot, something she’d known for a long time.

             “Well,” Merlin paused and sat up before continuing, “You were a bit mad back then, it made fighting you a lot easier.”

             “Oh well if that’s it.” Morgana rolled her eyes and sank down into the armchair across from him, rubbing her hands over her eyes. “Gods, this is all fucked.”

             “Yep,” Merlin toasted her words and knocked back the rest of his martini. His eyes flashed gold and the glass refilled.

             “Do you know what’s coming? My visions have been less than helpful.”

             Merlin watched her, debating his words as he sipped at his glass. He’d spent the last millennia watching over the world, a silent gatekeeper guarding it from forces that would harm it. But his time as such was coming to an end, a new age was dawning, and if Morgana couldn’t see it just yet, he couldn’t be the one to tell her. 

             “No, not really. I’m not a seer like you, most of my information comes from traveling and scrying,” he paused and took a breath before continuing, “I’m old Morgana, it’s getting more and more difficult to keep at this struggle, to keep the balance.”

             “You’re not the only one who’s old Merlin. I am, as a point of fact, older than you,” Morgana sighed and conjured another glass of elven wine, sipping at it before adding, “But I know what you mean. Before I rescued Harry, life in the caves was so stagnant, so painful. I thought about… you know?” 

            She had thought about taking her own life, and for far longer than she imagined Merlin had. Back when Morgause had asked her to sacrifice her. Back when she had to give her daughter up to the Druids. Back when she was told she would never be a knight and the best station she could hold in life was as a wife to a lord. She had tried, once or twice in her times in the cave, when the world seemed dark and her past even darker, but the magic that made her who she was saved her from herself.  Depression had long been her silent companion, one that had controlled her motives more often than not in the past, but one that had been recently eased by Harry’s bright presence in her life. 

             “Yes, me too. Downsides of being immortal, there’s no end, just a continual existence.”

             “I’ve tried talking to Remus and Sirius about it, but they’re so young. They can’t imagine why I’m so tired. I love them, I love Harry, and they keep me going through those dark moments, but sometimes...” 

             “Sometimes you just want it to end?” Merlin nodded, a grimace sliding over his face as he thought of his long years of waiting for Arthur’s resurrection.

            Depression and isolation his constant companions even as he traveled the world and made new friends and allies. He’d become flippant, eccentric, irreverent, to battle the tides of misery that attacked him on a daily basis, much like Morgana had in embracing her inner sarcasm and bitchiness. Oh wait, she’d done that years ago, before he’d interned her in the Crystal Caves. Brushing aside those thoughts he watched the woman in question as she alternated between sipping at her wine and staring off into the crackling flames in the fireplace.

            He’d imagined their reunion often throughout the years, wondering if they could ever return to the way they were before everything happened, before Morgause, before the Fires of Idirsholas. But as they sat together in silence, drinking and pondering over their long lives and the depression that haunted the both of them, he knew it couldn’t be the same. She needed to bond with Remus and Sirius, their vitality and mischief giving her light that he couldn’t provide anymore. She needed Harry and his youthful innocence to mother and guide. She needed them; she didn’t need him. And… he didn’t need her. He wasn’t sure what he needed, but he knew it wasn’t with her, not after all this time, not after all they’d done to each other.

Some things couldn’t be forgotten. Some things couldn’t be forgiven.

            It was quiet between them, a silence that echoed throughout the space. The darkness and the light bound together by fate and destiny and all the things they railed against in their youth. Merlin Emrys and the Witch Morgana.  

            The silence stopped as Merlin coughed and rubbed at the back of his neck, his cheeks turning a light red from the awkwardness of the motion before asking, “So how did you get the horcruxes anyways?”

ϟϟϟ

Diary:

             The Malfoy library was a cavernous expanse of floor to ceiling bookshelves stocked with books. Magical ladders floated along the aisles, stopping whenever someone got too close. That someone primarily being Harry and Draco who were wreaking havoc through the library after Arcturus’ latest lesson on the House of Black. Perusing the shelves, Morgana scanned row upon row of books, she was looking for a book covering the second Punic War and the influences of the magical community of Rome on the battles. She already had several books, but the author’s bias against the muggle side of the war annoyed her and she craved a new voice. Laughter bounced along shelves as Harry and Draco made mischief on their own.

            Setting her stack of books on a side table, she let her mind wander, the Old Religion reaching out from her to caress the pages of each book around her, searching for one that sparked in her mind. Harry had been thriving in his lessons with Arcturus, the shy young boy she’d picked up from the Dursley’s nonexistent as he launched into spirited debates with Arcturus over the nonsensical names of House Black. His friendship with Draco was a boon to his self-esteem, and when Neville was added into the mix, the three were mischief makers extraordinaire, often bringing tears to Sirius’ eyes. A loud shriek filled the library as said mischief makers began to near her corner.

            Morgana snickered as Harry ran through the aisles past her, his hair bright purple and pink as he chased his cousin. Shaking her head at the early mischief between the two, she let them be. Who was she to question the camaraderie between young boys, only the gods knew how Arthur’s prankster nature as a child with his friends changed to a bullying one as an adult, though she blamed Uther herself. Settling down into an armchair to keep an eye on the boys, she summoned a book from a nearby shelf and began to read. A loud bang sounded from behind her, sending her book flying before she could read the first page.

            A soot covered Harry appeared around the corner limping, followed by a singed Draco. Arching an eyebrow at the disheveled duo, Morgana waited for them to explain. Harry broke first, his limp disappearing as he toed the ground, his eyes downcast for a moment, before looking up at her and blinking, widening his eyes to make the familiar green stand out even more.

             “We were just playing, but we might have bumped into the section of the library that Aunt Narcissa said was Lucius’s and then it was all BOOM,” he waved his arms around and Draco nodded emphatically behind him, “And then we came to get you.”

             “Let me get this straight, you were playing and bumped into a bookshelf that then exploded?” Morgana stood quickly, the Old Religion was suddenly screaming at her, as a foul taint began to surround the two boys. Eyes flashing gold, she felt relief shudder over her as the taint proved to be topical and harmless. A thin black line wove around their shoulders before disappearing back where they’d come from.

             “Um, Morgana. Are you mad at us?” Harry blinked up at her.

             “No, I’m not mad. Just please,” Morgana reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, loosening some of the soot that had settled along his soft black locks, “Be careful when you play. Malfoy Manor isn’t as safe as Corvus Place little one.”

             “Okay, we’ll be safer!” Harry bobbed his head and took Draco’s hand before running off towards the kitchens.

             Shaking her head at Harry’s impertinence she took a step towards where they’d come from, reaching out with her senses to follow the trail of black magic that hovered in the air. Eyes burning gold she strode down the hallway and turned a corner, entering the warded area where Lucius kept his... darker collection. Rolling her eyes at the realization that Harry had once again broken through warding on yet another restricted area, Morgana waved her hand and sent a pulse of her power through the warding, not bothering to break them down, just opening them enough to pass through. The cream walls shuddered as she slipped beneath the twisting snares of ward magic, a cloud of dust wafted over her as she stepped into the alcove, the lights dim, casting a dull orange glow along walls.

            A black and grey peacock was splashed along the back wall underneath a sconce light and Morgana held back at giggle at the rather ostentatious image. The trail of magic wound through the air and ended at the corner of the bookshelf along the wall, diagonal to the tail end of the peacock. Stepping closer, Morgana felt her stomach rebel, a wave of heat winding in the pit of her stomach, churning acid and bile. It felt vaguely familiar, akin to the magic she’d wielded to raise Lancelot all those years before. Reaching out she pinched the innocuous black book between her fingers and pulled it away from the shelf.

            The binding felt fragile against her hands and as she ran a purple lacquered nail along the faux leather. Turning the book in her hand, she flipped it to the back and her eyes widened exponentially as she took in the name T.M. Riddle .

Riddle.

Voldemort.

She’d stumbled across his first horcrux.

            She’d spent ages in the caves watching Riddle, his prowess in magic so akin to her own when she was his age. But when he split his soul that first time, using his accidental murder of Myrtle Warren to create the diary in her hands, her heart had been crushed. Ripping his soul asunder so violently, and so opportunistically had horrified her and reminded her of her first moment using such vile magic, cursing Uther with the mangled mandrake root. Riddle had weakened himself tremendously, both in mind and body doing such a ritual so young and it had twisted him into the being that Voldemort was by the end of the war. But she had a plan. A plan to adjust the board a bit and give her side an incalculable advantage. Holding his horcrux in her hands, Morgana let a smile curl along her unpainted lips. Lucius Malfoy had unwittingly placed the next step of her plan right in the palm of her hands. She’d pity the Malfoy lord for his stupidity, but it was rather common for him after all. 

Ring:

           Morgana had been having nightmares for weeks straight, her sleep tormented by the image of a beaten woman, a cackling man, and a flash of pure green light followed by the slumped forms of several people. Putting the pieces together, she recalled her vigilance of Tom Riddle’s early life and realized her visions were pointing her towards the murder of his father and grandparents. His life had never been a particularly happy one in the orphanage, from the forced attempt by the matron and a priest to exorcise him to the rampant bullying by the other children. She’d watched as he confronted his father and grandparents about that, about their sheer negligence in his upbringing. When he killed them for admitting to knowing he existed and doing nothing, she’d agreed. Abandoning a child to such conditions was beyond cruel and though he’d used the murder to create another horcrux, she hadn’t viewed the act itself negatively. 

             After finding his diary and confirming its identity as a horcrux, she’d been searching for his others, knowing that he’d made many, but unclear as to what exactly each were or where he’d hidden them. With the knowledge of his paternal family’s murder in mind though, combined with the image of his beaten down mother and laughing uncle, she had a hunch as to where the next horcrux might be.

             The next day she set out to find it, kissing Harry on the cheek as he tumbled down the last two steps of the hallway, his eyes bleary as he blinked up at her. Remus and Sirius were at the door to see her off, each offering her a curious look as she brushed their questions aside with a simple, “I’ll explain later.”

             Apparating away at the entryway of Corvus House, she suddenly found herself standing in front of a rundown old house in the brisk cold of the early morning. The Gaunt Shack. Her lips curled as she thought of how a once proud noble house had fallen so far to have to live there. Even her shack during her exile days in Camelot was better than that. Leaning to the side the black wooden boards of the house seemed to be barely holding on, the latent magic of the Gaunt family decaying as the years went on. It left a foul odor in the air, sulfur mixed with the scent of rot. The grounds were covered in dead leaves, brown and shriveled coating the loose dirt along what she could tell used to be a pathway up to the house.

             Tugging on the Old Religion, Morgana’s senses lit up with dark magic; layers upon layers of it were caked over the property. Snakes appeared in her periphery, drawn to her sudden presence and with a snap of a command she sent them scattering, “ Nædre forgripe .” Taking a step closer to the ruin she focused her magic deeper, bypassing the old wards which crumbled at a flick of her wrist, and searching for the newer ones. A thin silver sheen lit up along the front door and Morgana let out a low whistle at the vicious blood curse Voldemort had placed there. 

             Pulling out her wand she began to pull it apart piece by piece as she walked to the door, unraveling the silvery curse until all that was left was a pile of pale threads along the doorway. Stepping over the magic she walked into the house and focused again for the dark, rather specific taint of soul-magic that horcruxes contain. It was easier now, after holding the diary in her hands, she had a sense for the blackness that was a horcrux, one that she wasn’t likely to ever forget. 

             Inky black spirals of magic crept up from the floorboards in the center of the front room, reaching out to her. Batting them away she crept closer and knelt down above the floor. Her robes sank into the thick layer of dust coating the ground and she flinched at the thought of how dirty they would be by the end of this. Unsheathing a dagger from her wrist she pried a board up from the floor and felt a sudden tug at the center of her being. A small black box lay innocently amidst the dust and grime, untouched in its simplicity. Reaching towards it, the pull grew stronger, an impulse building to pick it up and open it, and reveal what’s inside. Shrugging with a certain sense of irreverence that came from being immortal, Morgana followed that impulse and picked up the box, opening it as she went to stand.

             A gold ring lay at the center of the mystery with a black square jewel at its apex, a thinly scratched symbol of a circle inside a triangle, bisected by a line. It seemed to call to her, a soft caress of dark magic against her own. It wanted her to put it on. It would help her in her plans. It was made to be hers.  Her hand hovered over it for a second before she blinked and recognition of its identity settled in.

             Of course Tom Fucking Riddle made a Hallow into his horcrux. Whatever compulsion spell that lay on the ring was tossed aside by Morgana’s sheer amusement at how clueless and idiotic Riddle had been in making the ring into a container for his soul. The Hallow wasn’t what legend said it was of course, it couldn’t bring back the dead, but it did have a tie to them. A tether to the other side, that when invoked could call upon shades of those formerly living. 

              Death had cursed his gift to the second brother however, a curse that wreaked havoc on any who would dare to use the ring to spite Death and raise their dearly departed. If used in such a way, the shades drawn forth by the power of the ring would be compelled to urge the one who called them closer to death, regardless of whether it was their time or not. People who’d used the ring over the years had been driven mad by the ghosts of their former loves, and one by one they’d taken their own lives. And Riddle had bound his soul to such a thing.

              Shaking her head at his lack of foresight or investigation into the trinkets he used as containers, Morgana banished the curse he’d placed upon the ring with a flash of golden eyes before shutting the lid to the box and pocketing it. Perhaps Riddle’s shortsightedness could work in her favor, she mused, she’d been looking for a way to fix his mistakes and having a Hallow anchored to his soul could prove to be a hidden boon. Tiptoeing through the dust and grime of the house, she exited the last home of the Gaunts and disappeared, her thoughts already on the next stage of her plan.

Locket:

             “Voldemort made horcruxes? Horcruxes—plural? He ripped apart his soul and stuffed it inside a bunch of trinkets and you’re hunting them?” Remus’s questions echoed about the room while Sirius just stared at Morgana, her revelation stunning him to silence.

             Nodding her head at Remus Morgana laid out the two horcruxes she’d found over the last two years. The two men looked at the diary and the ring looked back up at her and blinked.

             “And you haven’t destroyed them yet because?” Sirius croaked out.

             Tapping her nail along the cover of the diary Morgana paused and gathered her thoughts, how to explain to them the benefits of her plan and negate any negative reactions the two men might have. A sigh fell from her lips as she realized regardless of how logically she laid it out, they would have justifiable reservations and so she just went for it.

             “I’m not going to destroy them, I’m going to use them,” lifting a finger she halted their immediate responses and arched an eyebrow until they stopped and allowed her to continue. “You need to remember, I’m not some simple witch stumbling into this out of nowhere. I am over a thousand years old and I have watched the wizarding world for all those years. I saw what Tom Riddle was as a child and then as a young adult, I watched him make these mistakes,” here she paused and gestured at the horcruxes, “and turn from the path of greatness to one of madness, much like I did in my youth. I’ve been having visions over the years of a growing threat to our world, and it does not stem from him, or from the existing shade of Voldemort though that does still pose a threat. And yes, I do see them as separate beings. Tom Riddle as he was pre-horcrux would never have committed the mass genocide and spilling of magical blood that Voldemort perpetuated. He wasn’t good by any means, but he also wasn’t so wantonly addicted to carnage like Voldemort.”

             “So what, you’re going to resurrect Voldemort? Is that what you’re saying?” Remus sputtered.

             “No,” Morgana shook her head and laid her palm fully along the diary. “I’m collecting his horcruxes and intend to fuse them back together, I’m going to resurrect Tom Riddle, the man separate from Voldemort. Voldemort as he is now after Lily Potter’s sacrifice is a ruined form of what he once was and could never fully reintegrate with his horcruxes. However, the horcruxes themselves, if unified and…purified could result in the undamaged resurrection of Tom Riddle. I warned you that there’s a growing threat for the magical world, and Tom Riddle will be key in facing that threat. He is powerful, incredibly so. And he is intelligent, we will need him in the days to come. He is the lynchpin of uniting the factions of the Wizarding World, dark, grey, and light. With him we get the dark, we already are the grey, and I foresee us coming to a compromise with the light.”

             The two men sat in silence staring at her as they pondered over her words, Voldemort had been the scourge of Wizarding Britain for the last thirty years. He’d maimed, murdered, and molested his way into a position of ultimate terror. He’d killed Lily and James, their dearest friends. But…if what Morgana said was true? How could she even think that Voldemort could be helpful though? He was a monster. But Morgana was Morgana, she saw the future, in all aspects. If they couldn’t trust her who could they trust?

             “What happens if you resurrect Riddle and he turns on you?” Sirius asked.

             “If that were to happen, I’d kill him. I would never jeopardize Harry’s safety and if it looked like he was going to hurt him, Riddle wouldn’t even have a chance.”

             “How would you do it? Resurrect him that is?” Remus added.

             “Collect his horcruxes and pull them from their objects, add them to a potion and then wait and see. Part of it is up to him whether he’s willing to unite with each aspect.”

             “What happens to the Voldemort that’s still out there?”

             “He’d be separate from the newer incarnation since he wouldn’t be part of the ritual."

             “Do you know where the other horcruxes are?”

             “Vaguely. There’s actually one at Grimmauld Place Sirius, I felt it when we visited last week. And…there’s one quite close, outside of these that is. It’s not a technical horcrux, more of a fragment of a soul, but it counts. Voldemort never intended for it to be created, but he didn’t intend for many things that happened that night.”

             Sirius bowed his head before lifting it and meeting Morgana’s steady gaze, “It’s in Harry isn’t it? The scar?”

             “Yes.”

             A low keening sound fell from Sirius’s lips as Remus growled, his eyes amber as he stood abruptly and began pacing back and forth.

             “You can remove it, safely?” His pup was in danger, his poor pup who’d already seen more pain and darkness in his young life than most adults saw in their entirety. 

             “Of course,” Morgana bristled at the wolf’s harsh question, “I would never hurt Harry, and having a piece of a broken soul inside of him isn’t healthy. I know how to remove it. I can do it today if it would help your peace of mind, but it’d alert the horcrux inside which might fight back. I have a plan to nullify it and keep it unaware so that it won’t hurt Harry, but I need to other horcruxes first. The ring he received years ago for his birthday will help, it has a powerful enchantment on it that will keep his mind free from any taint of the horcrux.”

             “What do we do now?”

             Morgana paused for a moment; she wasn’t sure where to go from there. She’d expected more arguments, more back and forth, she expected them to lash out, not to be rational. Shame crept along her spine at that thought, she had thought herself better than them for being able to see things logically, and that was neither true nor accurate. Their emotions guided them yes, but they could be rational as well. She didn’t deserve them, deserve their friendship, their intimacy. Shaking her head to dispel her thoughts, she focused on the task at hand, getting the next horcrux. Leveling Sirius with a look she asked, “When was the last time you talked to your house elf Kreacher about your brother?”

             He blinked and shook his head at her, looking for all the world like a stunned puppy for a moment.

             “Never, why?”

             “You should ask him about Regulus and his death. Tell him you want to help.” Morgana didn’t offer any more than that and waited as Sirius fought with himself for a moment before standing to leave.

             Turning to Remus now she watched as the werewolf processed everything she’d told them over the last hour. Calling for Bitty, she had the elf deliver some tea and chocolate to draw the man back into the present. Waving a chunk of chocolate under his nose she let out a small giggle as his pupils suddenly dilated and fixed on the chocolate in her hand. Snatching it from her, he shoved it in his mouth and chewed slowly, savoring the taste. Once done he locked eyes with her again.

             “What do you need me to do?”

             “Tell me,” she said, stirring her tea in a clockwise motion. “What do you know about the Cauldron of Arianrhod?”

Ϟϟϟ

              Sirius was frozen as Kreacher wailed and sobbed about his poor Master Regulus. His brother had turned traitor on Voldemort in the end and had gotten himself killed for it. Pain gripped his chest tight as his mind wandered back to the early days of hiding in the library with Regulus from their mother. Of sharing biscuits over cold tea when she would forget about them and they convinced Kreacher to feed them. Of Regulus huddling up against him at night after Wahlburga raged and cursed at them for being insolent whelps. Of comforting each other after rounds of the Cruciatus. Of being brothers. The war had done a number on their relationship but if he was being honest with himself, which he had to now, the divide had started when he went to Hogwarts. He abandoned Regulus to don the red and gold of Gryffindor House, abandoned his little brother to forget the lessons of bigotry cursed into them during their childhoods, abandoned his little brother for a new brother in James. Tears pooled from his eyes and he let out a howl in time with Kreacher’s: he’d failed his little brother.

             The locket gleamed on the table in front of him as he sobbed, the gold catching his eyes at an odd angle as a new sense of purpose settled itself within him. He would do right by Regulus in the end, he would make sure his sacrifice wasn’t in vain. Morgana might be certain that her plan would work, but he would be there waiting in case it didn’t. He owed it to Regulus. 

Diadem:

             Meeting with Minerva to discuss the passing of Morgana’s bill in the Wizengamot was the perfect cover she needed for gaining entrance to Hogwarts to seek out the horcrux Riddle had hidden there. She’d left the house that morning and teleported directly at the front gates, waiting for her friend to come let her in. The early morning fog had settled over the green grass, grey clouds dusting the dew dropped blades. Shifting from foot to foot, Morgana tightened her cloak around her shoulders, the heavy fabric shielding her from the morning chill.

             “Morgana,” the Scottish witch she’d been waiting for called out to her from behind the wrought iron gates. With a wave of her wand, the gates opened up to Morgana and the other witch quickly pulled her into a hug. “I cannot state how excited I am that our bill passed. It’s finally gotten those idiots on the Board to listen to some of my suggestions for reform.”

             “I’m glad,” Morgana replied as Minerva let her go and gestured for her to follow.

             Walking behind her, Morgana took in the view of Hogwarts as they hiked up the crest of the hill from the gates. The massive castle pulsed with magic before her, both Old and New. The old grey bricks of the towers burst through the low layers of fog around them, shining in the pale morning sun. Making their way through the large double doors of the entryway, Morgana shivered as the ancient wards of the castle slid over her, embracing her in a warm hug.

             “I’ve got to meet with Filius and the other Heads of House to go over some adjustments to the Quidditch schedule this year, if you don’t mind?” Minerva asked after a moment of silence. They were standing in the Great Hall and Morgana’s eyes were fixed on the cloudy skies of the enchanted ceiling.

             “Go ahead, I’d love to explore a bit,” Morgana replied, ideas flying through her head as she thought about how she could replicate the founders’ ingenious uses of magic.

             “Good, good. I’ll meet you back here in an hour. I trust you’ll be able to find your way?” there was a knowing glint in the other woman’s eyes as she said that, and Morgana began to wonder how much she suspected.

             “Of course. Now go, have a good meeting,” Morgana said, waving her off.

             As the Scottish witch disappeared from the Great Hall, Morgana let a sigh fall from her lips as she let her head fall back, the magic around her pulsing and caressing her in equal turns. It felt familiar, like Camelot of old or perhaps the Isle of the Blessed. Seeped in deep magic, old magic, the very foundations of the castle were teeming with remnants of the Old Religion while the air was suffused with new magic. With a flash of gold eyes Morgana turned and began to set out towards her true mission of the day, finding the next horcrux.

             Taking a right turn, she ascended a staircase only to stumble as it began to move. A curse fell from her lips as the stone stairs creaked beneath her, landing with a dull thump as they connected to the next staircase. Round and round she went through the castle, tripping over trick steps and running into false doors, a sense of mischief clinging to each mishap. Hogwarts was playing with her.

             A laugh tumbled from her lips as she finally made it to her destination, the hideous tapestry that marked the Come and Go Room winked at her as she did. With a shake of her head she began to pace back and forth, wishing for the room of all hidden things. A door appeared at her third turn across the floor and she opened it, stepping inside the room. Waves of magic greeted her, new magic and the Old Religion mingling with the dust and decay of all forgotten things. Inhaling the power, Morgana strode through the room, her eyes a brilliant gold as she traced the winding dark tendrils of black magic that marked the horcrux. There, atop a particularly precarious stack of musty books, was a dirty bust. The horcrux was laying on top of it, gleaming silver despite years of tarnish and age.

           A diadem. The diadem actually. She remembered watching Rowena create it, curious at the magics the woman wrought together to create insight and wisdom. The diadem didn’t bestow instant knowledge but rather broadened and opened the mind so that the bearer could access all the knowledge they had within them. And of course, like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum because someone else wanted his toy, Tom Riddle perverted it and stuck a shriveled-up section of his soul inside. Clucking her tongue at his idiocy, Morgana picked up the deceptively fragile headdress and slid it in a hidden pocket of her robes.

           Turning on her heel she left the room without a second glance, some things that existed there were better left forgotten, and instinct told her that she shouldn’t linger. Retracing her steps, she made her way through the castle and back to the Great Hall to wait for Minerva. As she rounded a corner and reached the doors that led into the hall she jerked to a halt. A man stood before the doors, decked out in garish lime green and purple robes with shooting stars dashed along the hems. Albus Dumbledore. Current bane of her existence. She’d been surprised when the man had usurped Merlin’s place as such, but then her relationship with Merlin had never been quite so subtle. It had always been big gestures and screaming matches. Straightening her back Morgana strode forward a tight smile forming on her face as the man turned to face her.

           “Lady Le Fey, what brings you to these hallowed halls?” Dumbledore asked his head cocked slightly at her approach.

           “I’m visiting with Minerva to go over some of the changes that the primary school would enact for our children,” she replied.

           “Ah, a noble venture. I hope you don’t think I was against it, I was just worried that day about what might happen to students bound towards Hogwarts. I wasn’t sure what to think of your plan since I’d known nothing of it,” Dumbledore said, his thinly veiled hints at wanting to be in the loop aggravating her. 

           Sighing internally Morgana knew that her times of dodging and evading the old coot had come to an end. 

           “Perhaps we could meet over tea to discuss what the school will be teaching?”

           “I’d love that my dear,” he replied, his eyes twinkling at her in such a way that had to be artificial. 

           “I’ll send a letter soon to set up a time,” Morgana tried not to gag as Dumbledore nodded his head and smiled at her, the nausea at having to deal with the old manipulator was getting too great. Stepping past him she pushed her way into the Great Hall and tried to center her mind on her meeting with Minerva and the success with the horcrux. Dealing with Dumbledore could wait for later. Of course she wasn’t to know that that interaction had sparked an even greater curiosity towards her in the old man, that her presence in Hogwarts had given him a taste for her magic and provided a new avenue for him to research, to meddle. 

The Cup:

             Of all the horcruxes, Helga Hufflepuff’s cup was the one Morgana detested the most. She wasn’t sure why, although if she had to guess it was because Riddle had entrusted it to Bellatrix. The mad Black sister had simply placed it in her vault adding no extra enchantments or security protections, blindly trusting in Gringott’s reputation for security. All she had to do to get it was alert the goblins to the presence of such dark and twisted magic in their vaults and get Sirius and Arcturus’ signatures as Heir Black and Lord Black respectively and Chief Ragnök had practically tossed the goblet at her. She’d tried not to laugh as they cursed Bellatrix and Voldemort, marking the two as enemies of the Goblin Nation for trying to hide such a dark object in Gringotts. 

Harry James Potter:

             Harry was playing in the garden outside. Bitty had recently gone through and weeded the grass with vicious glee, leaving it soft and free from crabgrass and dandelions, the latter of which Harry was violently allergic to and prone to loud, theatrical sneezing when near. Morgana was reclining in her chair, the pale rays of an English summer bathing her skin. She wouldn’t tan, her porcelain skin resistant to all forms of color except red when in the sun, but she enjoyed the heat from the sun and the way it sunk into her skin and stayed with her throughout the day. Zooming about on his Junior Nimbus 1800, Harry practiced his dives as Sirius cheered him on from the sidelines. Remus was standing before the grill he’d insisted they install the summer before, tongs in hand as he turned the massive steaks they were to have for dinner that night. Bitty was away visiting her cousin who was ill, leaving the cooking and cleaning to the residents of Corvus Place for a few nights. Narcissa was off with Draco and her infant daughter Cassiopeia in France for the weekend, her separation from Lucius in its final stages. It felt like the calm before the storm.

             Morgana’s dreams were plagued with visions of a never-ending void, a darkness that destroyed all life in its path. She was haunted by visions of Harry falling, his small body contorted in pain, scar split open and bleeding red. And Merlin, standing over her, Excalibur in hand. The last she knew was a memory, but with her growing awareness of his nearing presence her mind was tormented by their mutual past. Shaking her head, she dispelled her dark thoughts; today was to be a day of rest and joy. It was Harry’s tenth birthday. He was growing up so fast she mused, watching him dive at Sirius, weaving around the taller man’s attempts to wrestle him off his broom.

            She’d started to see the taint of the horcrux in him lately, after handling the others it was hard not to notice. Confiding the truth of the ritual to rid Harry of the horcrux to her co-parents had been a difficult task however.

           “Basilisk venom? You’re going to use basilisk venom?” Sirius fell back into his chair, his face ashen as the news hit him. Remus shook his head repeatedly, he couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t. It was deadly, everyone knew that. 

          “He is, unintentionally, but he is a horcrux. That means normal rituals won’t suffice. Basilisk venom can destroy a horcrux therefore it’s perfect to remove one”

         “Can you use it safely?”

         Bristling at Sirius’ implications Morgana snapped back, “I am the High Priestess of the Old Religion, I could do such a ritual in my sleep. Harry is pure of heart and an innocent; the foul taint of this soul magic is at odds with his own which will make things easier.”

        Grabbing a glass of firewhiskey, Remus knocked it back in one go, his eyes as amber as the liquor. “What do you need us to do to help?”

        “And how quickly can you get it done?” Sirius added standing and putting an arm around his fellow Marauder’s waist, drawing on his strength.

        “His birthday should suffice, he’ll need time to recover and doing it in the summer before school starts would be best.”

        The two men nodded, faces drawn and pained as they did. It hurt to think of such dark magic living inside their boy. Harry had pulled them from the darkest places in their lives, brought them together in a way no one else could have. He was the glue that tied them together, that brought Morgana into their lives. They would fight to protect their Prongslet.

         “Can’t catch me,” Harry called out as he shot above Sirius’ head, his laugh trailing behind him.

         “Slow down you little bugger,” Sirius yelled, choking down a laugh as Harry turned around to stick his tongue out at him.

         “How about both of you knock it off and get over here. Food’s ready,” Remus said. Standing up from her spot on the lounge chair Morgana made her way over to the grill, the scent of pepper and freshly grilled steak luring her in. A soft smile grew on Remus’ face as he watched her take in the table he’d set, the gingham place-settings a quaint contrast to the usual silk embroidery that Morgana often used. Harry moved forward like a whirlwind, his tousled black head dipping under Remus’ arms to take his spot at the table next to Morgana. Sirius looked like he’d just been through a mud puddle, the side of his face smeared with dripping mud and dirt. A snort burst out from Morgana and Remus held in his own chuckles as he waved his wand over Sirius and vanished the mess.

          After everyone took their seat at the table, Morgana lifted her glass of elven wine and proposed a toast.

          “I would like to raise a glass to the reason we are here today. Harry, I couldn’t be more proud of you. You’ve come such a long way from the boy I took in five years ago and I am honored to call you my ward, my son.”

          Harry caught unawares as he snuck a sip of his pumpkin juice froze at hearing Morgana’s words and his eyes began to fill with tears. Ducking his head, he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand as he heard Padfoot and Moony echo Morgana. He was so happy they were his family. Sniffling into his cup of pumpkin juice he felt a wave of sleepiness settle over him and he was unconscious before his head hit the table with a soft thump.

          Jerking to his feet Sirius leaped to his pup’s side, checking his vitals before turning to Morgana with a glare, “You couldn’t have waited until after dinner?”

          “No.” her voice was cold, and her emerald eyes had narrowed at him as she drew a vial from her pocket. “Now stand aside, I must do this quickly.” Seeing Harry prone on the table, seeing him so vulnerable and knowing she caused it killed her. No mother should ever have to do this, but she had to, to save him. 

          Remus opened his arms and Sirius fell into them as they watched Morgana approach Harry’s unconscious form. He looked smaller than he had in a long time, his vulnerability reverting him back to how he was when they first met.

          Pulling a small silver athame from the belt about her waist Morgana tilted Harry’s head back and brushed his bangs from his forehead before lightly tracing the tip of the blade along his scar. Then, she uncorked the vial in her other hand and dipped the tip of the blade inside, coating it in a thick viscous fluid. Inhaling sharply, she sent a prayer to the Goddess for wisdom and guidance in the moment. And she began.

          Digging the athame into the wound she began to chant, “ Yfel gaest, ga thu fram thisselichaman. Bith hire mod eft freo. Ar ond heofonutungol sceal thurhswithan.” Harry shook in her arms, his back arching in pain at the intrusion of the blade against his flesh. Tears slipped down Morgana’s cheeks as she watched him writhe in her arms, but she kept going, dragging the blade through the scar. Her heart trembled in her chest as he shook, his pain tugging at her maternal instincts, her love for him. But she had to keep going, she had to see this through to the end, to protect him. 

          A black cloud began to emerge from the opened wound. Lifting her free hand Morgana curled it, ushering the smoke to her palm before banishing it into a vial Sirius held out to her. Her hands started to shake, exhaustion settling deep in her bones and she dropped the athame onto the table. Remus stood and grabbed a glass of clear water that Morgana had set next to Harry’s place at the table and gently pressed it into her hands. Trying not to drop the glass, Morgana lifted it over Harry’s open scar and poured the water along his head wincing as the wound began to hiss and bubble, the dark magic residue slowly purging itself from Harry’s system. 

          Tilting her wrist Morgana poured more and more of the water along his cut, muttering under her breath, “ Ic hæle þina þrowunga .” The wound began to mend, flesh melding together until all that was left was a bright red imprint of the healing scar, the water having washed away all the blood. Flicking her wrist, Morgana dried Harry and set the glass down before turning and gathering the athame and vial and banishing them to her room. Slipping her hand into her pocket, she pulled Merlin’s gift to Harry for his fifth birthday from her pocket. Sliding the ring gently along Harry’s finger once more she felt the magic sink into her ward, healing the cracks along his mind that the horcrux had created, forming barriers to protect him from further incursions. Taking a proffered glass of wine from Sirius Morgana drank deeply before nodding at the other two to revive Harry. 

          As Harry started to wake Morgana sank into her chair once more, the bone deep tiredness from the ritual had her blinking blearily as Harry started to giggle and apologize for falling asleep before dinner, his naivety and innocence at what had transpired breaking her spirit just a little bit more.

          She had succeeded. Harry was horcrux free, the cost of the ritual spending her magic and wounding her heart at having to hurt her boy. The next step of the plan could continue, but it would have to wait, for now, she told herself. Harry came first. 

Ϟϟϟ

          “So one part luck, three parts cunning? Sounds like you,” Merlin said after Morgana finished her tale.

          “At least I have luck with my plans, I seem to remember an awful lot of making it up as you go when it came to your planning in Camelot,” Morgana sneered at him before absentmindedly sipping at her wine. At this rate she was going to become an alcoholic, these idiots were driving her to the bottle.

          “I won didn’t I?” Merlin smirked and arched an eyebrow at her and she couldn’t refute it.

          Grumbling under her breath she watched Merlin as he stared into the fireplace for a minute. The shadows of the flames licked his cheeks, highlighting the sharp edges and showing the deep bags beneath his eyes.

          “You look like shite. Get some rest, I have several guest bedrooms you know.”

          “I do know, I am the one who organized this house for you after all,” Merlin replied as he stood to his feet, stumbling a bit as he tried to cover a yawn and set his glass down at the same time.

          “Go, you look horrible. And I need some sleep too after that horrifying dream you sent me. I never wanted to see you on a rubber duck. Why’d you do that? And for months at that?”

          “I thought it was funny,” Merlin shrugged and followed her down the hall towards the guest suites.

          A door opened in front of him and Morgana resisted the urge to shove him inside as he grinned at her. He was ridiculous. Ducking his head, he rubbed at the back of his neck before murmuring a soft good night and disappearing into the room. Shaking her head at Merlin’s appearance and the events of the last few months, years really, she turned on her heel and went up the stairs, sliding into Harry’s room and settling into the chair across from his bed and closed her eyes. She needed to be near him that night. Remembering the ritual of removing the horcrux that day had shaken her. Seeing him bloody and in pain, she never wanted to see that again. But in her heart of hearts, she knew she would. Life was full of pain and darkness, and unfortunately for Harry, it seemed to circle him more than most. 

         Slipping into a light doze, Morgana barely noted the arrival of Remus and Sirius who enlarged her chair and settled in on either side of her. Their warmth drew her deeper into sleep, a contentedness taking over as their little family was fully together. And for once her dreams were light and full of laughter. A large black dog chasing a green eyed boy. A scarred man wrapping his arms around her waist. A blue eyed warlock raising a toast to her with a martini glass in hand. A small infant in the arms of a blonde witch. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen: The Resurrection of Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr.  

             It was time. But even as Morgana began to plan, things began to get in the way. Merlin had disappeared after their late-night chat, leaving a single note to explain where he’d gone.

             Morgana,

             You’ll need help if your plan succeeds, I’ve gone to collect some. Be warned, Kilgarrah says the portents have changed. As the darkness rises so does the light. And with you on neither side your path is going to be long and rough. I’ll be in touch.

             Merlin

             After the events of Harry’s birthday, Morgana had spent the following days in a fugue state, her emotions muted to keep the pain of having to hurt Harry to save him at bay. Merlin’s sudden appearance and disappearance doing nothing to help. Sirius and Remus had taken turns bringing her out of her rooms to eat and bathe. They’d tried to get her to engage with Harry, but she’d shied away from those attempts. It all came to a head when Harry had confronted her one night a week after his birthday.

             “Did I do something wrong?” Harry’s question startled her. She’d been sitting in the lounge staring at the crackling fire for hours. Her mind had been lost in the past, alternating between her dark deeds in Camelot to her recent interactions with Harry in dealing with the horcrux. She couldn’t get out of her own head and kept equating the two acts, slowly convincing herself that she had meant to hurt Harry, that hurting him was all she could ever do. His question drew her back to the present and she was immediately hit with a new wave of guilt, this time for neglecting Harry and leaving him to question their relationship.

             Reaching out she made to run her fingers through his hair before aborting the gesture and pulling her hand back to her lap. She shouldn’t touch him, her hands were covered in blood, in darkness.

             “No Harry, it’s not you…I, I’ve been having issues lately with my past and it's all hit me at once,” she replied, wincing as he curled in on himself at her aborted gesture.

             “But why won’t you talk to me, you know I’m here for you Mumgana.”

             Morgana’s heart broke at that, at the tremble in his voice, the self-recrimination so eerily familiar to the running narrative inside her head for the past few days.

             “Oh Harry. It’s I who is supposed to be there for you,” forcing herself upright she pulled him into a gentle hug, her hand stroking his head as she did. “Forgive me little one, I have hurt you, I keep hurting you. I don’t want to continue to do so.”

             Pulling away from her embrace she was met with the tear-filled stare of her ward as he took a step away from her.

             “Is that what this is about? Padfoot and Moony told me what you did on my birthday with the horcrux. You saved me!”

             “I hurt you Harry,” Morgana shook her head at him, how could he see her as such. She was a monster; she always had been and always would be.

             “No you saved me. You saved me from the Dursleys. From Voldemort. From Dumbledore. You’re my mum. And you saved me. You did bad things in the past but you’re not like that anymore. I know what you’re like and it’s not that. You’re my hero.”

             “Harry.”

             “No. You listen to me. You saved me and saved Padfoot. You got Aunt Cissa out of her marriage with Lucius and you helped her have Cassie. You’ve helped people. You’re my mum and I love you. The past is the past.”

             Staring up at the young boy standing above her slumped form, Morgana felt a surge of pride flood through her. This was her son, this sweet and naïve boy who protected her and cherished her so ferociously. The warmth that accompanied the pride began to beat against the dark memories that held her in their grasp the past week. She bowed her head as she became overwhelmed by the dueling emotions and she felt a pair of arms encircle her in a tight embrace. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she began to inelegantly sob, snot clogging her nose as she buried her head in Harry’s shoulder.

             “You’re a wonderful mother Morgana. You brought us all together as a family and we love you for it. What Harry said is true to an extent, the past is the past. You’ve shown us your darker side and we don’t hold it against the present you, and neither should you,” Sirius’ voice sounded above her shoulders and another set of arms wrapped around her from behind.

             “I’ve caused so much harm, it's hard to see a way forward, a way of redemption,” she choked out.

             “You don’t need redemption, it’s a stupid concept anyways. Focus on your love for Harry, for us. We love each other and nothing else matters, whatever happens next will happen,” Remus stated, his quiet voice filling the room as he leaned over and brushed a kiss along her forehead.

             “We’re a family. You and me, Padfoot and Moony, Aunt Cissa, Drake and Cassie. Grandpa Arcturus. Neville and Luna and Hermione. Aunt Minnie. All of us, together,” Harry said, and Morgana felt something inside her settle into focus, and her Sight cemented his words. They were a family, and she would get through the darkness with them. Together.

             Standing Morgana returned the embraces offered to her full force and pressed a chaste kiss to Sirius and Remus’ cheeks. She was Morgana Le Fey, and she would persevere.

Ϟϟϟ

             “I’ve missed our talks Cissa, I’m glad you’re back in London,” Morgana said, taking a sip of her tea as Bitty fussed about Narcissa and her daughter.

             “I’ve missed them too,” Narcissa replied before dismissing the busybody house elf. The two women settled into companionable silence as they drank their tea, until Narcissa finally interrupted it.

            “You’ve been getting closer to my cousin and his boyfriend I see,” Narcissa smirked at her as she adjusted baby Cassiopeia in her arms.

             The five-month-old gurgled and blinked at Morgana, her clear blue eyes the only thing she inherited from her father. With a head of wild, pure Black curls Cassie was a true Black much to Narcissa’s glee. After her intimate rendezvous years before with Morgana, she’d enticed Lucius back to her bed purely on the purposes to conceive a child. After several further miscarriages, she’d finally managed said child in Cassie and soon after the Healers declared it a perfectly healthy pregnancy had her grandfather maneuver Lucius into signing divorce papers. Since then, Narcissa had spent the rest of her pregnancy abroad in France with Andromeda, returning to have Cassie amongst her family and friends in the old Black Manor. Named after her great Aunt Cassiopeia, Cassie was the apple of the Black family’s eye and had three doting older brothers in the forms of Draco, Harry, and Neville respectively.

         Blinking sharply, Morgana finally registered Narcissa’s comment and to her horror began to blush.

“Nothing’s happened. I mean nothing’s happening. I mean, oh you,” she glared over at the blonde as the other woman burst into a fit of giggles.

        “I’m curious,” Narcissa choked out between giggles, “How are they in bed? I imagine the wolf is quite gentle unless it’s a full moon and Sirius has always been rather passionate in everything he does.”

        “Stop it, stop it,” Morgana huffed her cheeks a bright red as she swatted at her friend.

        “Tell me did you start the affair before or after Harry turned seven and started staying with me more?” Narcissa continued, her eyes gleaming at the embarrassed form of Morgana.

        “We have not had sex Narcissa!” Morgana blurted out.

         “But you want to?”

         Hanging her head in defeat Morgana nodded once.

        “With them?” Narcissa clarified.

        “Yes…and with you,” Morgana admitted.

        “Darling, I’d love to continue our affair but you and I both know that physical lust is all there was between us,” Narcissa placed a hand on Morgana’s shoulder as the other witch looked at her and met her gaze.

       “Yes, but.”

       “No but’s. You’re trying to deny yourself a fuller relationship with them. And yes, I know sex isn’t everything, but it would take your relationship to the next level. The three of you have become stagnant the last few years and it hurts to watch.”

       “What about you Narcissa? I love you too,” Morgana replied.

       “Yes and I love you. But I’m not in love with you and vice versa.”

       “Cissa I…”

       “Stop making excuses, I know you Morgana. You want them and they want you, have for years ever since that towel incident you told me about. The three of you would make a lovely triad if you tried for it.” Narcissa shifted Cassie and tried not to sigh at the poleaxed expression on Morgana’s face. She’d tried for years to subtly manipulate the three into expressing their feelings, but it’d never worked. The blunt approach she’d decided to take now seemed to have the exact opposite effect than she desired. Trying to soften her approach she squeezed Morgana’s shoulder and continued. “After divorcing Lucius I’ve never been happier. You helped me confront my feelings about my late husband and our relationship, as well as my own sexuality. I just want to do the same for you love.”

       “I do care for them, love them even. But to let myself love them like that…” Morgana trailed off, her mind inevitably winding its way back to a time when she had let herself love a man that way.

       “You’ve been burned in the past, I know. I gathered as much when you didn’t make a move after the towel thing, but you know that ignoring your own feelings or desires isn’t helping things either. I should know, I repressed my love of women my entire life and lived with Lucius for years in quiet despair.”

       “Narcissa,” Morgana’s heart broke at the sad look in her friend’s eyes. She had tried so hard to free Narcissa from the blonde prick’s clutches and let her be free to love whom she wanted. Knowing that Narcissa was free and happy with her children meant the world to her, and she’d thought perhaps, the two of them could have a relationship. But even as she’d thought that she knew it was an idle, empty fantasy. Narcissa was her dear friend, but she wasn’t her love. And the two of them were far too similar to be able to maintain a long-term relationship.

       “Stop that,” the other woman swatted at her shoulder, “I’m happy now, deliriously so. Do you know how many truly gorgeous women have fallen over their feet to be with me lately? Scores. I’ve had quite a few affairs these past few months and I’ve loved it. I’m enjoying my life and I want you to do the same.”

       “I’m happy you’re happy Cissa. Truly I am, I just don’t know how to be happy for myself. Not like that. Relationships are messy and difficult, and I don’t want to ruin the happy balance we have now, especially not with Harry involved.”

        “A compromise then,” Narcissa interjected, her eyes flashing in her excitement, “Harry starts Hogwarts next year yes? Talk to them and ask if they’re willing to wait, which I bet they are since they have been already.”

        “I don’t know…” Morgana hesitated, her feelings were a jumble, she wanted love like that so badly, but if it failed it could ruin everything they’d built. Harry’s words from the week after his birthday came to her then. They were a family already. They had been one for years and would continue to be one regardless of what happened. “I’ll do what you suggested. I’ll talk to them.”

        “Wonderful, I just want you to be happy Morgana, you know that yes?”

        “I do, and I’m eternally grateful for your love and friendship.”

         Narcissa threw back her head and laughed, a full-throated belly laugh rocking her frame and causing little Cassie to moue in annoyance.

         “I should hope you are,” Narcissa replied, earning a wry eye roll from her friend.

         The two of them sat quietly for a moment until Cassie began to fuss in her mother’s lap and start to cry. Taking her daughter’s cue, Narcissa stood to take her into another room to change her, neatly side-stepping a red-faced Sirius and contemplative Remus who were slumped against the wall outside the lounge. Adjusting her crying daughter in her arms, she made eye contact with her cousin and said, “I’d go in there now and discuss it with her, don’t give her time to change her mind.”

         With that, she turned and left the two men to their own devices, they’d either take her advice or they wouldn’t but she’d played her card and it was up to them now. As Narcissa left, Sirius straightened himself up from the wall and ran a hand through his hair, before turning to Remus and arching an eyebrow at the other man. Remus blinked at him and shook his head trying to clear his thoughts before gesturing Sirius forward, he would follow his lead in this. Tugging on his shirt collar, Sirius shoved one hand forward and pushed the doors to the lounge open and walked inside. Morgana was sitting with her back to the door, her gaze turned towards the fire which crackled and flared between blue and gold flames, her magic palpable in the air.

         “Morgana,” Sirius started to say, but stopped as she turned to look at them. Her eyes were wide and red rimmed, but her pupils were blown out. She stood to her feet as she took them in and began to stride towards them. Remus stood next to Sirius and placed a hand on his shoulder as Morgana neared them, steadying the other man.

          Morgana reached out to Sirius and ran a hand along his jaw, cupping it before pulling him towards her and capturing his mouth with a kiss. He met her lips eagerly and quickly took control, fisting a hand in her hair and pulling her hard against his body. Nipping at her lips he smirked into her mouth as she gasped, allowing him to slip his tongue in her mouth. Not content to let him lead completely, Morgana licked into his mouth, curling her tongue around his and drawing a groan from him and a subsequent groan from Remus. Pulling away from Sirius, Morgana turned to Remus and the wolf pounced on her, pulling her mouth to his even as he left her in Sirius’ embrace. Remus kissed differently than the other man, but she enjoyed it, nonetheless. His lips were slightly chapped, but the roughness sent a thrill down her spine as did his aggressive manner of chasing down and forcing moans from her. He thrust his tongue in her mouth and scraped his fingers through her curls. Sirius held her up as her knees began to shake at the furious assault the werewolf was making, stroking a hand up and down her back as he did so. The three began to separate after a long moment, breathing heavily as they did. Taking a step away Morgana cleared her throat and began to speak.

         “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time now. But…”

         “But we should take it slow and see how things go,” Sirius replied, his eyes soft as he looked her in the eye.

         “Yes… how?” Morgana stopped as Remus started to speak.

        “We overheard your conversation with Narcissa, and we agree if we jumped into things, it wouldn’t be good for us or for Harry. So I propose we start slow and see where it leads us.”

        “We could go on some trial dates, together or maybe one on one.”

        “You two have thought a lot about this.”

        “Yes well, we’ve had a long time to think about it,” Sirius said.

        “I should have acted sooner.”

        “We all should have acted sooner,” Remus added.

        “But we’re acting now. And in the spirit of honesty, I’d like to say I’ve loved you both for a long time and I’ve wanted to act, but I’ve been afraid to.”

        “After what happened with Merlin, we don’t blame you, and to be honest ourselves, we were afraid to try with you as well. It took a long time for us to get to a healthy place and acknowledge our feelings for you,” Sirius said reaching over to tuck a curl behind her ears.

        “Emotions are hard, and relationships even more so,” Morgana added brushing a kiss along Remus’ cheek as she turned to sit back down in her seat. Sitting along the couch next to her, Remus and Sirius called Bitty to bring them another round of tea and they began to discuss their relationship status.

        “First things first, what do we tell Harry? And when do we tell him?” Morgana asked causing Sirius to facepalm as Remus let out a low groan, they hadn’t thought about Harry’s reaction.

Ϟϟϟ

        A month after Harry’s tenth birthday and several days after Morgana’s conversation with Remus and Sirius about their relationship, she borrowed an owl and sent a letter to Dumbledore inviting him to tea. Setting the meeting at The Jasmine Dragon, a charming tea shop that had just opened up in Diagon Alley, run by an older man and his nephew, Morgana began to plan. She knew Dumbledore wasn’t going to play the game the way she expected, the way she was used to. The old man had spent years playing the role of the wise old leader who fought for the Light and all that was good in the world while working behind the scenes as a ruthless and manipulative schemer. Having the meeting in a public place would hopefully help her keep her temper in check as she knew he was bound to press many of her buttons. The owner of the tea shop had become a kind friend of hers since its opening, his quiet words of wisdom and charming cup of jasmine and chamomile tea had been a boon, especially as the horcrux hunt came to a climax.

         Post-hunt her life had become both easier and harder as she started her final plans for the resurrection of Tom Riddle, so fitting the meeting with Dumbledore in had been difficult and stress inducing. Getting to the tea shop early Morgana set up shop in her traditional corner seat, her front facing the doors. The owner’s nephew grumped along and gathered her order, his face set in a deep frown when she informed him who her guest would be that day.

        “That meddling old man, he’s worse than Uncle,” tilting his head, the boy stared at her for a moment before adding, “If you want, I can add ipecac syrup to his muffin, he always orders it when he comes by. It should shorten the meeting if nothing else.”

        Morgana let out a short bark of laughter, eerily reminiscent of Sirius and shook her head at his suggestion. She’d had a few conversations with Uncle over the last few weeks over his nephew’s past and it sounded like his father had been worse than Uther, and he didn’t have the benefit of Arthur as a sibling growing up. Bowing his head at her laughter, Zuko walked away as a light flush coated his cheeks. Setting her wand along the table Morgana began to run through her list of supplies to pick up at the apothecary after the meeting. She’d placed an order months before for feathers of a fallen dove and the blood of an unclaimed vampire that had just come in. With her mind on the coming errands she almost missed the entrance of her guest, almost, but his ostentatious fuchsia robes with orange and yellow rainbows had her eyes bleeding before she recognized their owner. Inclining her head in greeting Morgana wordlessly pulled a chair across from her out with her magic for him to sit.

        “Ah Lady le Fey, good to see you. Lovely place, they have the most scrumptious chocolate lemon muffins,” Dumbledore said as he sat down, his glasses sliding forward on his nose a bit as he did.

        “Yes I’ve found I adore their chamomile tea, and the ownership is quite trustworthy as well.” Zuko swept by with a tray of drinks and snacks in hand a slight grimace on his face as he took in Dumbledore’s robes.

        “Yes they are at that. Now, I’ve found myself wanting to speak with you for quite some time… Your guardianship of young Harry has troubled me for several years. You took him from his aunt and uncle whose care I placed him in after his parents’ murder and it was crucial for his protection that he stay there,” taking a sip of the tea Zuko slipped down in front of them as Dumbledore locked eyes with Morgana.

        “The blood wards, yes I noticed those, rather weak for a protection ward if I can be honest with you. There wasn’t enough blood there to tie Harry to the family - my wards are far stronger and have the added bonus of not abusing him,” Morgana narrowed her eyes at him, a glare forming as she thought of Harry when she’d first collected him from the Dursley’s, the welts on his back, the terror in his eyes.

         “Abuse?” Dumbledore coughed, spraying crumbs along the table as he stared at her.

         “Yes, abuse. If you had cared enough to pay attention to your former charge, you would have noticed it. They were terribly unfit guardians and they lashed out at him for everything, for just existing.” The air in the tearoom started to thicken, a crackle of tension erupting from around Morgana as the Old Religion cried out at the injustice done to its young son.

        The two of them sat there for a minute, Dumbledore silent and blinking at her his shock at her words and the pictures he saw in her head. Morgana tightened her mental shields after letting him in to see the effects of the Dursley’s “tender” care towards Harry. He had to see that his manipulations had consequences. That there was more at stake than his chessboard of moves and countermoves. That there were real people involved.

         “Harry has real friends, a loving home, and a real chance at life. I don’t know if you intended for him to have a lackluster childhood, but that’s what he had and worse. Now, is that all you wanted to talk about? I was under the impression you wanted to discuss the new primary school for our children,” a slight smirk slid across Morgana’s face as she turned the conversation.

         “I…yes. I did want to discuss the school with you, but young Harry’s safety is my concern as well. While I’m displeased that Petunia did not heed my wishes regarding his care, I still think he would be best placed with his family behind the blood wards.”

         “Better placed than with his godfather and uncle? Better placed than him being in a nurturing and loving home with access to family and friends? Better placed with muggles who are not only ignorant to our world but entirely intolerant of it,” Morgana spat out, her anger rising again at Dumbledore’s inability to see beyond his crooked nose.

         “My dear, you are young and obviously care for young Harry, but you cannot see the larger picture. It is in his best interest to be raised away from his fame and from those who might try and hurt him, and I’m afraid,” he paused for a moment. “Well, I’m afraid of the damage that’s been done to him under your care.”

         “Damage! Damage. How dare you,” Morgana snarled, her fingers sparking, itching to set his stupid beard on fire. “I came here to meet with you in good faith and all you’ve done is critique my guardianship and tell me that Harry would be better off with his abusers. You’re an ignorant, blind old man who can’t see beyond his own twisted plans. We’re done here,” getting to her feet Morgana stood over Dumbledore, he looked smaller somehow, beaten down by her words. She just hoped he stayed that way. Sweeping out of the shop, she made brief eye contact with Uncle from behind the counter before turning the corner and heading to the apothecary.

          Dumbledore sat at the table, his plans for the day to talk the Lady le Fey into turning guardianship over to him shot. He had planned on convincing her of the dangers of Voldemort still on the loose, something a woman who grew up in the States could never understand. Seeing the abuse that Harry had suffered at the Dursley’s in her mind had startled him though, he hadn’t expected it to be that severe. It threw him off his game for a moment and he’d messed up his chance at convincing her. Now he would have to wait until Harry started Hogwarts in a year to see if his plans in getting the Chosen One in place against Voldemort would still be viable. The prophecy said neither could live while the other survived and he knew that he was the only one who could guide him along the way to defeat the dark lord. He was the only one with the knowledge and the experience. Voldemort would come back and Harry had to face him, and once the prophecy was fulfilled, he would step in and defeat Voldemort once and for all. Young Zuko interrupted his thoughts with a loud cough as he reached over and took the empty plate and cup away from him. Shaking his head at the impetuousness of the youth of today, Dumbledore stood and swept the crumbs from his robes before setting off, he would fix this somehow. Perhaps starting with getting the Wizengamot to investigate the legality of Morgana’s guardianship.

Ϟϟϟ

             After her failed meeting with Dumbledore, Morgana threw herself into her plans for the resurrection. She spent her days and nights going over the Arithmancy equations with Remus while Sirius scoured the Black family library with his aunt Cassie’s help to find a copy of Magic Moste Evil to double check the ramifications of unifying the horcruxes. Harry spent his days with Draco and Neville and Hermione in school, their teachers Andromeda and Lakshmi sending Morgana daily updates with how they interacted with other children. With only a year left before Hogwarts their start at the new primary school would be a good start at socializing the children with all different backgrounds.

             Neck deep in preparations for the ritual, Morgana smiled as she skimmed the weekly update from Dromeda detailing Harry and Draco’s union at taking down bullies Goyle and Crabbe who tried to push Hermione into the dirt. Setting the letter aside she turned back to her notes on the ritual and felt a weight center itself in her stomach. It was time. The new moon was dawning, and the Old Religion was beckoning.

           Sending her wrist flicking towards her room she felt her magic begin to pack her bags for her trip. The resurrection would take place beneath the new moon on the Isle of the Blessed, the very place she’d once defiled with the sacrifice of her sister. She knew this new ritual would be the very antithesis of her previous one, a ritual of rebirth from the darkness rather than darkness tearing through the light. Her bags flew through her bedroom and into her solar, landing at her feet. Gathering up her notes and the few tomes she would need for the ritual she tucked them away in her leather messenger bag that Sirius got her for Yule the year prior. He’d stitched in protective wards and added the image Dagda along the front for her.

           Picking up her bags she set off for the library where she knew Remus and Sirius were camped out, the latter studying for his Mastery in Transfiguration. Minerva had offered him an apprenticeship for the following year so he could be near Harry when he started school. Poking her head in she felt a smile slide across her lips as she took in the pair cuddled along the couch, books scattered across the floor.

           “It’s time. I’m leaving now. Give Harry my love when he gets home from school.”

           Remus stood from the couch and walked towards her, his eyes solemn as he pulled her into an embrace, pressing his lips against the crown of her head.

           “Be safe,” he said.

           Sirius wrapped his arms around her back and added his own wishes, “Good luck.”

          “Love you both,” Morgana replied, tears burning in her eyes as they stepped back and let her go, they knew what she had to do, and weren’t going to stop her.

          Heading back down the hall she turned on her heel at the front door and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Ϟϟϟ

         The Isle hadn’t changed in the thousand years since she’d been there. Mist curled along the Seas of Meredor as she magicked the rickety wooden boat across the waters. The mist parted as she neared the shores, revealing the outline of a man. The Old Religion pulsed to the beat of the waves as the boat was propelled out of the water and onto the beach. Steadying herself from the rough landing Morgana made to stand but stumbled, her footing sending her face first towards the dirt. Before she could hit the ground, strong arms caught her and pulled her to her feet. Looking up she met Merlin’s crooked grin with a slight glare of her own as she huffed and pulled her arm away from him.

         “What are you doing here?”

         “I thought I’d come and help out, keep an eye out for any unsavory beings that might try to come out with all the magics you’ll be channeling tonight,” Merlin replied, seeming unconcerned as she drew herself to her full height to stare him down.

         “I can take care of myself you know. I am a High Priestess of the Old Religion, you’re just a warlock.”

         “True, if you don’t want me here, I’ll leave,” Merlin offered, hesitant as he gauged her emotions, her green eyes flashing between annoyance and endearment.

         “You’re an idiot, but I guess an extra pair of eyes couldn’t hurt the ritual. Come along then, we don’t have much time and we need to get started,” turning on her heel she headed towards the center of the isle where the archway between the living and the dead existed.

          Similar to the one her studies into the Department of Mysteries held, this arch existed solely from the early practices of the priests and priestesses of the Old Religion. She’d perverted it years before when she’d sacrificed Morgause to call forth the Dorocha; now she hoped to heal the wound she’d left in the magic by pulling together the broken parts of Voldemort to remake Tom Riddle. Winding her way beneath the broken-down stone halls, she could feel the echoes of the past in the fortress. Once it had been a place of life and magic, but it had been a ruin for far longer. Perhaps after the ritual she and the coven could come here to practice their magic and rekindle the Old Religion into a new life. She dismissed that thought though, she had to focus on what was at hand. A screech lit up the night air as a wyvern flew overhead, its scaly form startling Morgana and adding a sense of urgency to her movements. Turning to face Merlin she asked, “Can you do anything about them? And set up some wards, I need to get started and can’t be interrupted when I do.”

          “Can I do something about them,” Merlin scoffed and shook his head, “I’m a bloody Dragonlord, and she questions my ability to handle a wyvern.” Stalking off he let out a series of guttural snarls that sent the wyverns into a tailspin of flurried wings as they struggled to get away from the grumpy warlock.

          Shaking her head at his ridiculousness Morgana summoned her notes for the ritual from her bag and began to lay them out on a stone outcrop across from the altar. Muttering she ran through her checklist as she pulled ingredients from her bag, starting with the cauldron she’d put in stasis for the last week, the potion she’d made for the resurrection a pearlescent white beneath the charm. Tweaking the ingredients of the Draught of Living Death, she’d enhanced it to create a Draught of Rebirth, from the added blood of an unclaimed vampire, feathers from a fallen dove, tears of an innocent soul, and petals from the Mortaeus flower, the new potion had been a stroke of genius for her. Setting the cauldron down before the altar she summoned the horcruxes to her one by one laying them along the stone slab. Diary, Locket, Ring, Diadem, and Cup. The one she’d torn from Harry long since faded, not able to survive without the host it’d clung to that dark Halloween night.

          Tossing her hair over her shoulders she began to weave a crown of winter roses along her brow, the frost blue blossoms chilling her from the head down as she finished her crown. Wincing as a thorn pricked her thumb, she pulled her hand from her head to watch the bead of blood well up along her finger. An ill omen at the very start. Unease settled in the pit of her stomach and she reached out to the Old Religion sighing as it bolstered her and swept away her nerves. Pulling her thumb to her mouth she wiped the blood along her bottom lip and put the wound out of her mind. Pulling her ceremonial robes from her bag she stripped down to her skin before putting them on, the undyed cotton rough yet welcome along her soft skin. Runes were stitched along the hems of the robes, a task she’d given to a surprised yet pleased Sirius weeks before, his eye for stitches and embroidery something people often overlooked. As she pulled the sash around her waist tight, she felt Merlin’s presence reappear along the edges of the room.

          “Are you ready?” he asked, tilting his head to take in her new appearance.

          “Are you?” she shot back before turning to face the altar, her magic flooding through her, tingling at her fingertips, ready to be unleashed.

          The air seemed frozen, no breeze, no breath beyond that which they created. The wispy veil between the living and the dead appeared before her eyes as the skies opened up to reveal the pale moonlight of the new moon.

          Dispersing the stasis spell along the cauldron, she pulled a cup from thin air and dipped it into the pearl colored potion, using the Cup of Life once more, to create rather than destroy this time. Lifting the cup to her lips she began to murmur, “ Ón luaithreach a thit, glaoim ar chumhacht na nDéithe an spiorad a thógáil ó na rudaí seo agus é a dhéanamh go hiomlán arís. ”

           Continuing to chant, Morgana poured the potion from the cup along the horcruxes that lay along the altar. Smoke rose from the horcruxes as the potion hit, the mutilated parts of Tom Riddle’s soul rebelling against the call of rebirth from a foreign source. Pushing her power forward Morgana invoked the power of the Old Religion again and again, sweat beading along her brow as she drew upon her power deeper than she had in a long time. Her knees began to shake minutely as she pushed past wave after wave of darkness that began to erupt from the horcruxes. Tendrils of inky black lashing out one after the other at her, beating back against her magic, the perversion of the dark clinging to the fractured soul of Riddle. Wetness coated her upper lip and she tasted the metallic tint of her own blood flowing from her nose. The veil snapped into focus, becoming corporeal as the Old Religion screamed in triumph, the soul of Tom Riddle rising from beneath the blackness, sewing itself together. Her arms began to sink, lead weighting her bones as exhaustion settled in deep but she pushed past it and continued her chant.

            A body began to form along the altar, a tall, pale skinned male, naked in its rebirth. A bright light shone through the veil, only to be tainted by shadows that pooled along the edges of the altar. The corruption of the horcruxes making themselves evident on the newly reformed soul; even with his new start Riddle would never be able to rid himself of the mistakes of the past, not fully at any rate. Light clashed against the dark once more, and Morgana felt herself sink into the shadows, her strength fading as she tried to keep the veil open and channel the magic that was bringing Riddle to life again. Her eyes shone a brilliant gold as she was racked with a sudden series of visions, the first time she’d ever had a waking vision. Startled by the onslaught of potential futures, Morgana’s attention strayed from the veil, and in her momentary lapse, she missed a slithering form that slipped between the veil and into her world.

            “You’re almost done Morgana, you can do it,” she could hear Merlin’s words, however faint they were against the roaring of her own blood in her ears as she pushed and pushed her power to the limit. And then, the body before her began to stop glowing, the flush of life, of blood rushing through the veins and a chest inhaling and exhaling, and she let her power go, ending her chant and closing the veil with a final shudder that had her collapsing to the ground in a dead faint.

             Merlin Emrys watched as his old nemesis pushed herself beyond Life and Death, calling upon powers that only he previously had possessed to stitch together the soul of a dark lord and bring him back to life. Her back was straight even as her body shook from the effort of maintaining the spell. He admired her strength, her determination to succeed, to snatch the life of Tom Riddle away from the jaws of death. She had changed so much from their time in Camelot. Back then she would have resurrected Riddle to be her minion, her puppet in darkness. Now, however, she was doing it for the balance, she was doing it as a true High Priestess of the Old Religion, righting her wrongs as well as Riddle’s. A hiss fell from his lips as he watched the corrupt form slither through the veil. That was going to be a problem. Wincing as Morgana ended the spell and hit the ground, he hurried over to her and began to mutter a healing charm over her shuddering form; he’d gotten somewhat better at them after a thousand years of practice. Sitting her upright with her back against the altar he quickly backed away and left to check the wards he’d placed around the room to make sure nothing could interrupt them and so that no one could sense the power surge from Morgana’s magic. He knew she’d be pissed if she knew he’d seen her, let alone helped her in such a weak state. Morgana’s pride was as unchanging as stone, though the reasons for it did evolve over time.

Ϟϟϟ

             Morgana flew forward, her eyes snapping open as her body went from unconscious to awake in seconds. Ragged gasps tore from her lips as her head ached, her skull pounding like the warning bells in Camelot. Everything ached, from her toes up to her scalp. It hurt. But she had done it. She had succeeded. Pushing herself up from the ground she groaned, her age never more present than in that moment. Standing up she turned and faced the altar, taking in the fruits of her magic, the newly resurrected form of Tom Riddle Jr. His body was shaking, likely from the cold. She thought about summoning clothes for him for a moment but thought better of it. When he woke, she wanted him disconcerted, and with her as weak as she was at the moment, he had to be kept off balance. Summoning a Pepper Up potion from her bag she downed the concoction, wincing at the heat that spread suddenly and violently through her body. Running a hand through her hair she attempted to straighten herself up and make herself look less like death. Riddle shifted on the altar, jerking slightly as he started to wake up. Taking several steps back she drew herself together and drew her game face on, it was time.

            Waking up was a slow process, one that he didn’t fully understand. It was like being submerged in water for years, watching a fractured view of his life above the water. He saw himself becoming more and more unhinged, joining the pureblood agenda, murdering hundreds, working in a pawn shop of all things. His plans for life at sixteen had been obliterated by the madness that came with fracturing his soul. And then he was shattered, broken from his already cracked fragments and scattered into a million million pieces before being suddenly jammed back together, forcefully and painfully at first, but then it began to ease and he felt warm, and whole. That feeling lingered for a long time as his mind slept, until finally a very real chill filled him and he began to awake to a human body, together but for the part existing as Voldemort in the forests of Albania. He felt air flow in and out of his lungs and parts of him that were cold, colder than he would like. He opened his eyes and took in the world for the first time in fifty years with a whole soul.

            Sitting upright he froze, his gaze centered on the woman standing before him. Her hair was a mass of wild black curls, crowned in blue roses. She had blood smeared along her upper lip and chin and was wearing white ceremonial robes that fell off her shoulders. She was fey and wild, and he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

            “You’re awake.” Her words startled him; he’d never heard a voice that rich with power.

            “Who are you?” he asked.

            “I am Morgana le Fey, daughter of Uther Pendragon. I am the one who brought you back to life.” She walked over to him her eyes flicking up and down his body as she did.

            “Morgana le Fey died over a thousand years ago.”

            “Sure, and then I didn’t. Immortality is a fickle thing Tom, you of all people should know that. A smirk settled across her lips and he felt a shiver run through him, one completely unrelated to his bare form. Reaching over she grabbed his arm and before he could react, they were gone from the place of cold stone and in a warmly lit library, a crackling fire in an ornate fireplace across from him.

            “There are far smarter, saner ways to achieve immortality you know,” Morgana trailed her hand along his pale shoulder, taking in the shuddering form of the newborn man beneath her, “Ways that don’t split your soul, your power, or your sanity.”

             The man in question flinched at both her words and touch, his skin sensitive from the ritual and his mind fractured by the onslaught of memories that it entailed. He hadn’t known such magic was possible, but here he was in the flesh, proof that it was.

             “Why? Why did you resurrect me?”

             “Hmm, I suppose you do deserve an answer,” Morgana paused as she finished her circuit around him, pleased at how the ritual had gone. He was as she remembered from her visions so long ago in the Crystal Cave. Dark hair tousled and hanging loosely along a pale face, chiseled with a strong jaw and the deepest blue eyes she’d seen since Merlin himself. And a firm, toned body with strong, lean muscles and a rather—ahem impressive girth. She held back the blush as her eyes flicked down then back up to his face, she was Morgana Le Fey of House Pendragon not a blushing teen girl for the Goddess’s sake. Drawing herself together, she decided to tell the truth, or a version of it at any rate. “You had such potential you know, power, intelligence, charisma for days. And then you ripped your soul into chunk after chunk until you devolved into a monstrosity of magic, an affront to my very being. So, I guess one could say I was just righting the atrocities you committed to magic, as is my due as High Priestess of the Old Religion.”

             Shaking his head, Tom Riddle Jr., for that’s who he was now, not Voldemort - he knew that even if he didn’t know anything else about this situation - slowly got to his feet, his muscles tensing slightly as he did, unused to movement as they were. It couldn’t be just that, there had to be more. He could admit now, after seeing the memories of his time after making the locket horcrux, how far he’d fallen. He had no sense of purpose beyond world domination through bloodshed and violence. He’d destroyed more wizarding families than he cared to count. And for what? To be defeated by the blood magic of a witch far smarter than he could have perceived at the time. All to kill a small infant based on the dubitable prophecy of a drunk, heard only in part by a spy. How far he’d fallen indeed. So why bring him back? Or rather, parts of him back? He knew that he wasn’t whole, not completely. There was still that piece missing, the piece that had truly become Voldemort. But the others, the earlier pieces, those had been merged together to form what he was now. Why?

             “You’re not the first dark witch or wizard to fail to look beyond themselves, to fail to see their own shortcomings,” her soft whisper startled him, and he turned to see her seated in a plush armchair that she must have summoned. Her hair hung limp around her shoulders which sagged down as if a heavy burden rested across her pale collarbones.

             “No, I am not. But still, I am…uneased by how short sided I truly was,” he replied, unsure of who else she could have referred to. She was the great lady, the dark witch Morgana Le Fey. All Slytherin’s held her in high esteem, for she had seen the wickedness of muggles and fought against them.

             Sensing his train of thought, Morgana let out a short laugh, pained and winded before locking eyes with the man before her. If he only knew, but then…she studied him for a moment, perhaps he could.

             “You do know that I am not a pureblood?” she phrased it as a question to gauge his response to her words. He didn’t disappoint, with a slight flaring of his nostrils and shift of his feet, he leaned closer to her.

             “You’re not?”

             “Of course, I am not. My father,” she scoffed at the word, “Uther Pendragon was as muggle as they come, and the purveyor of the Great Purge against our kind. And my mother, Vivian was, what do you call them… a mudblood.”

             She was effectively a half-blood, like him, but without the pedigree of being a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, though she was a predecessor of his own ancestor by several hundred years. But her power, he could still taste it in the air, like lightning and fire, an ashy yet earthy flavor that lingered even now, long after her spells had been cast.

             “Yes… but what does your heritage have to do with my mistakes? With your resurrection of me?”

             She flicked her hand, and he took a step back as her eyes flashed a brilliant gold before settling back to the vibrant verdant he was rather enthralled with. A vase of water appeared next to her, along with several cups. She reached over and poured two glasses and after raising one to her own mouth, gesturing with her free hand for him to take one. Stepping forward at a measured pace so as not to overdo it on his new limbs, he reached out and picked up a cup. Lifting it to his nose, he sniffed for any obvious signs of poison, and not finding any, took a cautious sip. Clear and fresh water, flooded his mouth and he suddenly started gulping it down, draining the cup of every drop. Taking a step back he felt power flood into him, his muscles stopped trembling and his mind became clearer, more focused. Cocking an eyebrow at her he asked the silent question.

             “Water from the Cauldron of Arianrhod, it cleanses the body and mind. And was actually an essential ingredient in restoring you, but I digress,” setting the cup down, she steepled her fingers in her lap and continued, “I committed many crimes, against muggles but also against magic herself. I was a High Priestess of the Old Religion, but I was blind to its true purpose, to its true wishes. I fought against Emrys, as was foretold. But instead of acting as his balance, the dark to his light, I took it too far. I raped the lands, slaughtered the people, anyone who was against me, who had magic or not, was killed. I engaged in kinslaying, in oath breaking, I perverted nature,” she paused and gestured loosely to him, “Much as you have done. And for my crimes, I was locked away. Forbidden to interfere in the world, left only to watch how my actions poisoned it. Albion never came to be because of me, and because of that our world is fractured and divided, leaving us open and weak prey to those stronger.”

             “The muggles.” He nodded, the wizarding world was at their mercy with their far superior numbers and weaponry.

             “No, you mistake me,” Morgana stood and stepped towards him, “The muggles have never been the problem, but part of the solution. There must be balance, between us and them, between the light and the dark. Only then are we strong, as a world united.” Morgana felt an echo of a thought in the back of her mind, her visions during his resurrection were just out of reach, hidden behind some veil her mind created, for what purpose she wasn’t sure.

             Frowning, he thought over what she had said, but surely she couldn’t mean there were threats outside of their own world? That there was life beyond just Earth? “You’re not suggesting?”

             “No, not suggesting. Telling you. There are other things in the universe, beings of power far greater than any here. And divided as we are now, we are utterly at their mercy.”

             “Who? What? What are they?” he fired at her; what possible threat could make Morgana Le Fey suggest that they unite with muggles?

             “I do not know. I know only what I see in my visions at night and what Merlin has hinted at,” she was suddenly right in front of him, he could see the shimmer of variegated greens in her eyes as she looked up at him, “There is a threat, a shadow looming over us. And I need power, lots of it. And you have that and more. We could be great allies, Tom. If you would open yourself up to it.”

             “I’m not opposed to such a union, but…I need time. I have much to think on, besides your,” his lip curled up in a sneer, attempting to right himself and draw the mask he’d perfected so long ago back on, “Vague words of shadows.”

             Morgana shook her head, though she knew instinctively he wouldn’t immediately agree with her, he was a man after all, she had hoped for something to go off of. But no matter, a wicked smirk of her own slid into place, he had no one else to turn to, for most of his former servants, were now her allies, or dead.

             “Time is such a funny thing. I have lived for a thousand years and could live for a thousand more and never have enough of it to do what I need to,” she paused, watching as he narrowed his eyes at her wordplay, “But I am not your enemy, I am not Dumbledore. You can have your time, I will be in touch.” Lifting her hand, she motioned to the pile of clothes she’d gathered for him to wear post-resurrection. Following her prompt, he picked them up and disappeared behind the door to change.

             Left sitting there as he dressed, Morgana thought back onto her preparations for the ritual. Ever since that first vision of a young Tom Riddle, she’d known that his fate would be intertwined with her own later one. Seeing his subsequent rise and then fall, she knew that his shade would rise again, more twisted and monstrous than before, but that if she could get to a horcrux, there might be a chance to save Tom Riddle. And she had, or at least, she had started to. A fresh start for him, just as Harry had been hers, she only hoped he would take it.

Ϟϟϟ

    In the forests of Albania the newly arrived shade of Voldemort shrieked in pain as what was left of its soul fled its ruined spirit. What remained was pure dark magic with the memories of Voldemort. 

Ϟϟϟ

    Alone on the Isle of the Blessed, a dark form shuddered into being. Spirit made into flesh and it smiled, the time for the dominion of death had come. 

Chapter Text

Halloween Special

     “It’s the day we lost James and Lily,” Sirius wasn’t looking at her, his head buried in his arms as he mumbled at her.

            “Harry deserves a normal childhood as much as possible while he still can Sirius. I understand that this is hard for you and Remus but its important, his teachers have pushed that home several times,” Morgana replied, pacing in front of the fireplace, her skirts swirling as she walked.

            “I know, I know. It’s just rough, they should be here doing this with him.”

            “In a perfect world they would be, but the one we live in is hard and we have to make our moments count, moments like tonight,” placing a hand on his shoulder, she raised the other one holding the costume she’d picked out and held it up to him, “Now go put this on, Remus said he was finishing up with Harry’s in a few.”

            Taking the costume from her Sirius let out a low groan at the lace at the cuffs before setting it aside and starting to strip right in front of her. Morgana blinked at the sudden display of skin, her eyes tracking the smooth expanse of his chest, his muscles flexing as he flicked his shirt off to the side. Her eyes hovered at the crease of his hips, her lips parting at the slight trail of hair that was revealed by his low-slung pants. Heat flushed her cheeks and she whirled around, and her face from him.

            Sirius stuck in his own head, didn’t notice her distraction and started muttering about the costume she’d forced on him.

            “Who am I going as? Some poncy lord from years gone by? Who wears this much hosiery? Why am I even wearing hosiery? What are we dressing up as again? Didn’t Harry say something about Robin Hood?”

            Stifling a laugh beneath her hand Morgana turned back around to see him fiddling with a leather belt around his waist. Clad in brown tights and a long brown and black tunic with a leather vest on top of that he looked very fitting for the nights theme.

            “Yes. But he was inspired by that Robin Hood: Men in Tights movie you and Remus were watching last month. He found it hilarious. So, you and Remus are Little Jon and Blinkin, Remus is Little Jon, you’re Blinkin. Harry is Robin and I’m Marian,” Morgana gave a little flip of her hair and with a twist of her wrist it spun out into springy orange curls much like the character from the film.

            “I’m the blind help who sits on the privy all the time? Why couldn’t I be Robin and Harry be King Richard or the Sheriff?”  

            “Be lucky I didn’t dress you up as Latrine,” Morgana snickered.

            “So cruel, you’re always so cruel,” Sirius threw his hand over his head and swooned.

            Pushing past him, Morgana grabbed the portable cauldron Harry would be using for candy and shoved it in his arms. Spells curled around her arms as she started up the wards for the night, weaving them through their costumes and again through fabrics. She’d already spelled Harry and Remus earlier, knowing that Sirius would take a minute of convincing.

            Heading downstairs, she cackled at the tiny Robin Hood Harry made, he was standing on the edge of a chair, a small bow pointed at Remus who was bowed on the floor, chocolate smeared at the corner of his mouth.

            “Chocolate thief! Our lawlessness must be for the benefit of the people, not ourselves,” turning as he saw Morgana and Sirius at the end of the hallway, “Come, we must away. We have bounty to steal from the Sheriff tonight.”

            Wiping at the chocolate from his mouth, Remus held out a hand to steady Harry as he hopped off the chair and onto the floor. Looking over at the two other adults his eyes flashed gold as they swept up and down their bodies, taking in the way the gold dress clung to Morgana’s chest and Sirius’ legs in the tights.

            Bouncing up and down Harry flew out the doors and down to the road where the party was already waiting for them. Hermione had her hair pulled up in a set of intricate curls wreathed in flames, dressed as Persephone. Draco was in black as Hades, their unintentionally coordinated costumes causing Morgana to coo internally. With it being the pureblood kids first Halloween trick or treating, Morgana had organized a group outing for them all. Hermione had shared her limited knowledge on the subject and together they had cobbled together that night. Blaise was dressed as Adonis, Neville as a Bear (for reasons unknown to her), Luna was the Sun, Theo (who’s father had to be tricked into thinking was coming over for a ritual) was Merlin, complete with the long beard. Amelia Bones was dressed as Rowena Ravenclaw and was the additional chaperone with Narcissa at her side dressed as the Lady of the Lake. Susan was dressed as a Badger and Hannah as a Hedgehog. The Patil Twins were dressed as Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, Hermione’s introduction to Disney movies sparking a deep fascination for the girls.

            “Okay candy brigade, we have quite a few houses to hit and no time to spare. Let’s go!” Taking Hermione’s hand in his he peeled down the path with a maniacal cackle.

            “Oh dear,” Narcissa drawled as Draco reeled back looking angry at the fleeing pair, “I think it’s best we follow.”

            “Ah young love,” Sirius cooed after his cousin as the rest of the troop marched onwards.

            Linking her arms in between the two marauders Morgana pulled them along after the swarm of children who started up the chant of “Candy, chocolate, candy and chocolate.”

            “Happy Halloween, I hope this one helps ease the pain this day brings,” Morgana whispered before pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks.

            “It’s helping for sure,” Remus replied.

            “The kids are the best part,” Sirius agreed, a smile playing on his lips as he watched Harry simper up at an old woman, his eyes wide as she placed an extra handful of candy in his cauldron.

            Harry was having the best time. His friends were running around with him, they were getting candy, Padfoot and Moony were smiling and not sad and sitting in the dark like they were last year. And Morgana had agreed to do his Robin Hood theme, and he made an excellent Robin. He’d even practiced with the bow in the yard earlier and hadn’t hit Macha or Dagda once!

            “Don’t eat too much candy, you’ll get sick,” Hermione fretted as Draco shoved his sixth candy bar in his mouth.

            “But it’d be worth it,” Draco muttered through the candy, smearing a bit of chocolate on his nose as he rubbed at it.

            “Not if you’re puking your guts out,” Neville snickered as Blaise and Theo nodded solemnly.

            “I just want to hit one more house, we’ve hit like twenty and got a ton of candy, then we can go back and hang out, Morgana says your parents aren’t coming to get you until 9,” Harry said.

            “We can play with my new Wizard’s chess set,” Draco cried out earning twin groans from the Patil twins.

            “Or we could watch that new Disney movie?” Susan asked.

            “Yeah we could do that,” Harry tripped over a stone only for Hermione to catch him, shaking her head as she did.

            “Oh Harry,” the soft smile on her face as he beamed at her before turning to Draco and pulling him into a half hug tugged at Morgana’s heart. They were all so precious together, so young and so happy. She only hoped it would last.

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen: Plotting and Scheming  

Tapping her nail against the table as Merlin poured over her notes from the resurrection, Morgana fidgeted and then finally asked the question that had been on her mind for many years now.

             “Merlin, what enchantments did you place on the Crystal Cave to keep me locked in for so long?”

             Pausing from his perusal, the man in question looked up at her and blinked twice before setting the papers down and replying.

             “A great many, some I learned from Kilgharrah, others I found in books about the Old Religion. I had to be sure you wouldn’t escape. You were mad Morgana, you killed and killed and kept killing and wouldn’t stop.”

             “I did though… I did escape,” she pressed.

             “Ah well…” he rubbed at the back of his neck, a sheepish expression crossing his face, “I planned for that you know. I had visions of my own when I was trapped in the cave before Camlann, and I saw you escaping, saw you bringing light and magic back to the land, but I knew you would need time, and a lot of it to change before then. So I added in a little loophole to the enchantments to where if you felt a change of heart and desired to escape not for yourself but solely for the benefit of others, to help others, the enchantments would weaken.”

             Morgana stared him down for several minutes her mind racing through the complexity of the magic that he must have wielded to manage such feats before it came to an abrupt halt.

             “Merlin, it took me over three years after witnessing the Potters’ murders to escape. Three years of Harry being tormented by the Dursley’s.”

             “Yes, that was a rather unforeseen consequence, I ah… might have overpowered certain aspects of the wards,” Merlin coughed and looked away from her.

             “Merlin,” she tried not to snap, she really did, but knowing what Harry went through while she was trapped made her angry and reminded her that she had yet to act against them yet. Merlin had cost her precious time with her son, time that she had admittedly squandered when she first got out under the guise of acclimating herself with the modern world. While she admitted that it was necessary to research, prepare, and scheme to gain guardianship of Harry legally, a part of her loathed herself that she hadn’t just swept in and stole him away from the minute she escaped the Crystal Caves. She could have…

             “I know Morgana I know, believe me when I realized that you couldn’t get out right away, when I realized what you were trying to do and for who, I wanted to help. But it wouldn’t be right, you had to do it on your own, you’re strong, stronger than you know. And whatever you’re beating yourself up about, you know it wasn’t your fault,” he said, laying a hand on hers, stopping her from gouging her nails any deeper into the table.

             “What do you know, you didn’t see his wounds, you didn’t wake up in the middle of the night with his panic attacks, you didn’t…”she broke off, her voice catching as a sudden flow of tears welled in her eyes before breaking down her cheeks. Her Harry had been so hurt.

             “Morgana. You cannot blame yourself for that, it was not your doing. You saved the boy, brought him home with you in such a way that no one could take him from you. You’ve loved him and raised him well. You’re his mother and his guardian,” Merlin replied his hand reaching up to swipe away her tears. It was so unlike the Morgana he had known in those years battling her for Camelot, but it was like the Morgana he had once fallen in love with, so long ago.

             “But I do, I think I always will. It’s hard Merlin, so very hard to see someone so pure and full of love as Harry, to know that he has been hurt and to know that I’ve been the type of person who would have hurt him back when I was still…unhinged.” Morgana turned away from Merlin, of all the people who had met her over the years, he should be the one to understand, to see what she was trying to say. He knew her darkness so intimately after all, knew the depths that she could sink to, but she didn’t see understanding in his eyes, compassion yes, but not understanding.

             “Morgana,” Merlin started but was stopped as the woman in question rose and began to walk away from the table.

             “I’ll leave you to my notes, I want to check on our guest.”

             Oh Morgana, Merlin thought. He had wondered over the years, after learning of Alannah’s existence, if raising their daughter might have brought her away from the madness she had fallen into, away from the self-doubt and the fear she’d lived in for so long. But seeing her now, happier than she’d been in a long time with a son she loved with all her heart, he wasn’t sure. Alannah had been a symbol of their love yes, but she’d also been a sign of his betrayal, something that he could tell still held sway over her. He’d crossed her first, and it was something she would never forget.

Ϟϟϟ

             Tom was having a hard time adjusting. He told himself that was understandable considering he’d been separate parts for half a century only to be jammed together in an excruciating ritual, but really it stemmed from how—nice Morgana was. She fluttered about him each day after resurrecting him, giving him potions to nurture his new body, checking on his mental health as well as physical. All the stories he’d read about when he was a boy at Hogwarts had never painted the dark witch as this—compassionate.

             Sitting in an armchair he looked out at the view beneath him. Thick, tangled branches of dark green leaves far as the eye could see lay below him. At best guess he was in some sort of fortress in the middle of the woods somewhere, the where of it escaping him though. He’d left his rooms twice, making it as far as the first floor where the kitchen before his new body collapsed from exertion. He was furious at himself for such a weakness, even more so since his host had found him there and picked him up herself and carried him back to his room. Since then she’d been curiously absent appearing only to give him his potions before disappearing. He didn’t know what to make of her, or of the situation he found himself in. Stuck in his head he almost missed the first knock at the door signaling her arrival. Straightening himself in the chair he smoothed a hand over his hair before calling out to her.

             “Come in.”

             The door opened and revealed Morgana clad in simple grey and white robes that made her seem younger than he’d seen her before. Her eyes were strangely red rimmed and something in his snarled at the thought of her crying.

             “How are you today Tom?” her voice cracked a bit at the end as she closed the door behind her and made her way to where he was seated.

             “I am well,” he replied, cocking his head slightly as she sat down across from him, “And you milady, how are you?”

             “I am,” Morgana paused and summoned a tea set with a flick of her hand, grateful that Bitty almost always had one ready to go for her. “I am uneased. You have been here for a week now, yet you have yet to approach me about my plans for the future, something I was sure you would want to address.” She skillfully brought the conversation back to him, she had little time to talk with him before she had to be back at Corvus Place, Harry was performing in a play at the school that night, something Andy had co-written with her aunt Cassiopeia about Morgana’s past in Camelot. Not knowing the script Morgana was a little worried as to what the play exactly entailed, and Harry wasn’t sharing anything beyond the endearing enigmatic smiles he seemed to have picked up from Arcturus.

             “Well I have to admit I am curious, what are your plans for me?” Tom smirked at her evasion of his question and the way she moved the conversation back to him.

             “Nothing. I have no plans for you, or rather, I have no plans set in stone beyond one.” Morgana paused to take in his reactions, the slight stiffening of his back, the way his jaw settled, he didn’t believe her; good. Leaning closer to him she let a seductive edge into her tone as she purred out, “How would you like to help me bring down the Ministry and send Albus Dumbledore to his knees?”

             Tom’s eyes flashed red and Morgana knew she had him.

             “How?”

             “By showing the world how corrupt the ministry is, how ineffectual they truly are, and how black Dumbledore’s soul is.”

             “Sounds easy,” Tom leaned back and let a smirk cross his face, “what would you need me for?”

             “Dumbledore ruined you, he set in motion the creation of Voldemort. I gave you back yourself, now I ask for your help in ruining him, you know him better than most still alive, you’ve seen behind the mask he wears, and I need that, I need you. You’re powerful too, as powerful or more than him, and the Wizarding World knows it. I can’t reveal myself to them yet, but your presence either overtly in their faces or subtly behind the scenes will work wonders to undermine him. He’s entrenched in the ministry, his old gnarled roots buried deep, and I intend to see them burnt out one by one, cauterizing the wounds he leaves to be healed over by something new.”

             Tom watched her as she spoke, her green eyes glowing brighter and brighter as she went on. Killing curse green, he mused to himself. He could sense her power in every word she spoke, in every breath she took. Here was a woman who could obliterate him with one word, and she was calling him powerful and asking for his help. He wasn’t so egotistic as to not see that she was stronger than him, but nor was he inured against such flattery. He was curious, so very curious. She could undoubtedly do it without him, so why go to all the trouble in collecting his horcruxes and resurrecting him?

             “I’ll do it. But I expect something in return.”

             Morgana narrowed her eyes at him and felt a shudder in the Old Religion as he spoke.

             “What do you want?”

             “Answers and aid. Maybe not now, or even a few days or weeks from now, but one day, I want answers and assistance in whatever I need,” he replied.

             “And you will have them. When I decide.” Reaching over Morgana held out her hand, palm up waiting for him. The world seemed to freeze for a moment, breath frozen along the air and then he reached out and took her hand. “A bargain is struck, and a pact is made. I vow not to harm you or seek others to harm you and in return you will swear not to harm me or mine or seek others to do so. Do you accept?” Her eyes were a brilliant gold, sparking and flashing with power that Tom had never felt before, but was instantly enamored with.

             “I do.”

             The Old Religion pulsed between the two of them and swept through Ealdor Manor startling Merlin from his perusal of the documents several floors below them and making the warlock cackle with uncontrollable laughter at the knowledge that the dark had joined the fight against oppression. Magic such as he and Morgana was neither light nor dark but both, and so far their allies were predominantly light and neutral leaning, they needed Tom Riddle for the balance that he brought, and now they had him. He just wasn’t sure what having Tom Riddle on their side would bring.

             Breathless from the vow Morgana took a second to compose herself before she stood and headed towards the door, gesturing for Tom to follow her.

             “Come along now, it’s time we leave this place.”

             Following behind her, Tom felt his curiosity rise again, where would they be going?

Ϟϟϟ

             “Can you at least tell us who you’re playing tonight pup? I’m dying of curiosity here,” Sirius whined as Harry finished up the last of his homework for his practical maths class. Aunt Dromeda as Draco had taken to calling her had assigned a light load for the night in the face of their play’s premier. He was excited, it was his first time acting in front of a crowd outside of their classes and his entire family would be there. Especially Mumgana.

             “Well you know what they say Padfoot, curiosity killed the dog animagus,” Harry teased his godfather, laughing as Remus snorted into his cup of tea at Sirius’s dramatic flailing about.

             “I’m wounded pup, truly I am.”

             “Come on Harry, go get ready and leave the old mutt to his whining,” Remus said, ruffling his pup’s hair as the boy ran past him to do as he said.

             “Old. I’m not old,” Sirius pouted making Remus shake his head and return to the paper in front of him. “Does this look old to you?” Whipping off his shirt Sirius ran a hand up and down his torso to his face, wiggling his eyebrows as he did.

             “Sirius put your shirt back on, we have a guest,” Morgana said from the doorway, but not before she let her eyes wander over the tattooed muscles exposed before her a leer flitting across her face.

             “A guest? Who?” Sirius asked, tilting his head at her in a mirror image of his animagus form.

             Stepping away from the doorway, Morgana ushered Tom into the room wincing as the temperature dropped several degrees as her lovers realized who he was. Though they’d supported her plan in theory, seeing the man who murdered James and Lily Potter in person was a different reality.

             “My name is Tom, Tom Riddle. And you are?” The monster said, his voice nearly human but for a strange sibilance underneath. It rankled the two canines and made them even more hostile. They had agreed to give Morgana’s plan a chance but if he continued with his false veneer of politeness they would snap.

             Sirius stepped forward, his eyes darkening as he seemed to become more feral, unconcerned with his shirtless state in the face of a threat, “Sirius Black.”

             Remus was only slightly more contained as his eyes burned amber and he stood, growling out “Remus Lupin.”

             “Ah, I vaguely remember you. My memories from my time outside the horcruxes are a bit scattered. I should apologize, I think for my actions against your loved ones, I was not whole,” Tom ducked his head and affected a shier mien than what Morgana anticipated, and she held back a snort as she interrupted him before the two launched themselves at the former dark lord.

             “Of all the people you’ll meet these two are the least likely to fall for that, be honest and upfront with them.”

             Straightening, Tom smirked his face and he slid back into his normal state of being. The two men across from him exchanged a long glance before backing off from their offensive stances and giving him a grudging once over.

             “He’s prettier than I expected. He looked half monster last I saw him,” Sirius muttered, and Remus nodded his head.

             “Less snake-like now.”

             “His hair is ridiculous, like who has hair that smooth and straight.”

             “Pads you spend an hour on your hair in the morning.”

             “Not the point Moony.”

             “True, I did expect him to be taller though.”

             “Yeah he does seem to be a bit short.”

             The two Marauders continued to go back and forth, their insults getting louder and more outrageous as they did. Turning to arch an eyebrow at Morgana, Tom asked, “Are they always like that?”

             “Yes, always,” Morgana replied.

             “Must be tiring.”

             “You have no idea.”

             Footsteps sounded down the hall and a messy head of black hair appeared in the doorway before hurtling towards Morgana.

             “Mumgana,” Harry cried, happy to see his mother after only seeing her so sporadically the last few weeks. “Are you home for good?”

             “Yes little one, I am,” Morgana replied, running her hand through his hair as she did. Her eyes met Tom’s and sent him a silent message. Harm him and I destroy you. Make him cry and you’ll wish you’d never existed.

             Pulling away from Morgana’s arms Harry blushed as he took in the stranger’s form standing next to her. Taking a step back he bowed slightly at the man and introduced himself.

             “Sorry for my inattention. My name is Harry Potter, can I ask for yours?”

             “Well met young Harry Potter, my name is Tom Riddle. Pleasure to meet you.”

             Reaching out Harry grabbed onto the outstretched hand in front of him and gave it as firm of a shake as he could.

             “Pleasure to meet you too.” Turning back to Morgana he dropped his pureblood etiquette and began bouncing from foot to foot, “Come on Morgana we have to go or we’re going to be late.”

             “Go where?” Tom asked and Harry turned to him and Tom got the full effect of the boys’ green eyes, so eerily similar to Morgana’s.

             “To the play of course. Aunt Dromeda spent so much time on it and I’m in it. We can’t be late!”

             “Well now, we should get going then,” Tom replied, ushering everyone towards the door much to Sirius’ chagrin. Pulling on his shirt the marauder muttered angrily as he followed a silently laughing Remus out the door.

Ϟϟϟ

          Harry bounced back and forth between the curtains and backstage his anxiety spiking as the start time drew nearer. Andromeda has put a lot of work into the play, making it as historically accurate as possible for something based off a myth. He was worried though, for it was based on his Mumgana, though no one would know it. And he was worried that she wouldn’t like it, that it might hurt her. But another part of him, the part that guarded his dreams at night ever since the horcrux removal whispered it would be okay. That they would be okay.

         “Harry calm down and stop running about, we’re going to start soon and Professor Tonks needs to adjust your glamors,” Hermione said, shaking her head as her friend rolled his eyes at her only to be confronted by Draco.

         “Hermione is right, calm down. It’s just a play,” Drake said.

        “Easy for you, you’re not the one playing Merlin,” Harry snapped, running a hand through his hair as he twitched.

        “She won’t mind Harry. Now calm down before the blubbering hummdingers get a hold of you,” Luna added, her glamors already cast. Her blonde hair was gone, replaced by thick black curls, she was to be playing Morgana while Draco played Arthur and Hermione played Guinevere. Neville was Will, Merlin’s childhood friend. Blaise was the only one of them not excited at this role though, claiming that being cast as the wise mentor figure for Merlin was an insult to his good looks.

        “Come along everyone, we start in ten,” Professor Patil called out right as Aunt Dromeda appeared and began to wave her wand about Harry’s head.

     “Oh I think I might be sick,” Draco turned a sickly yellow as he stared at the curtains, earning him a swift hug from his cousin. Luna upon seeing Draco pale, launched herself on him and tugged him into a tight hug.

     “Get off Luna,” Draco tried to shove her away, embarrassed at the sudden affection.

     “Nope, you need a hug,” Luna replied smiling as Harry gave her a thumbs up from the sidelines, his normal messy hair flattening to a strange swoopy style.

     “Places everyone places,” Susan called out, taking her role as Andromeda’s assistant very seriously.

     “La la la la, me me me me,” Theo ran through a series of vocal exercises Hermione’s mom had taught them, his role as narrator making him the first person who would cross the stage.

     “Alright, we start in Five, Four, Three, Two, One,” Andromeda flicked her wand at the curtains which they opened on Theo who stood center stage staring out at the audience.

      Clearing his throat, he began.

      “Our tale begins long ago, long before the Hogwarts four, before magic as we know it existed. It begins with a world at war against the very heart of magic, the Old Religion. Our story begins with a young boy whose name would go down in history. A young boy who had yet to know his true destiny. A young boy named, Merlin.”

       Here Harry stepped onto the stage, dressed in a brown leather jerkin and pants, looking so much like the Merlin of her youth that Morgana had a mini heart attack.

      Theo continued oblivious to her panic.

      “Coming from a small town on the borders of Camelot, Merlin was unused to city life, unused to the strict policy against magic that the King Uther Pendragon put in place.”

       Here Ernie MacMillan walked out his head held high and chest puffed out.

      “But Merlin learned quickly and soon found himself in the service of the prince, Arthur.”

      Draco sauntered out a smirk on his face as he waved at the audience.

      “While the prince wasn’t yet the man legend would come to know him as, Arthur held promise. New to the world of Camelot, Merlin quickly befriended a young servant girl, called Guinevere, called Gwen by her friends.”

        Hermione strode out, a basket in her arms as she went to stand next to Harry.

        “And through Gwen, young Merlin befriended the woman who would be his greatest love and his most fearsome enemy, the Lady Morgana.”

        Luna skipped out, ignoring Andromeda’s groan at her actions, to stand next to Hermione.

        “Together with his new friends, Merlin began to enjoy life in Camelot, though he had to hide his magic from everyone, except for his uncle, the King’s Doctor, Gaius.”

        Blaise stomped up onto the stage, a glare on his face as he shook his finger at Harry. Morgana held back a laugh as Blaise managed to pull off Gaius’s eyebrows of doom.

          “The four went through many adventures together to protect Camelot and the life of its prince, Arthur.”

          Draco bowed and a smirk settled on his face as he pointed at the crown on his head.

         “But there was one adventure that truly made them friends, that tested their bonds, and showed them to be true.” Theo stumbled a bit over the words, Andromeda had tried to make them simpler for their age, but she had a flair for the dramatics that couldn’t be contained.

         “Merlin’s mother, Hunith had come to Camelot, pleading for aid from the king as bad guys threatened her home. The king refused and Merlin decided he would go home and protect his mother and his home.”

         Harry as Merlin walked over to stand by Hannah Abbot who was playing Hunith, tugging at the bottom of his coat as he went.

        “But he would not go alone, for the Lady Morgana saw the king’s refusal to help as very rude and decided that if he wouldn’t do anything she would.”

        Luna cleared her throat before walking over to face Harry and Hunith as she pulled out a sword and said, “We’re coming with you,” gesturing to herself and Hermione.

       “What do you mean?” Harry took a step back and frowned.

       “You’re going to need all the help you can get. I can mend armor and sharpen swords,” Hermione said coming to stand on his other side.

       “And I can fight,” Luna added.

       “But you can’t. Why would you?”

       “If it was the other way around, you would help us. You already have, you’ve saved my life,” Hermione said.

       “We owe it to you. Both of us,” Luna added before impulsively pulling Harry into a hug making the audience coo.

       The three of them ran off the stage and left Draco and Ernie and Blaise who shared a look and shrugged before walking off to the other side. Shaking his head at them, Theo continued to narrate.

       “Gaius made sure his nephew was well prepared for the journey.”

       Blaise’s voice echoed throughout the hall, “Are you sure you don’t want an extra blanket?” Followed by Harry’s response of “It’s okay really, I’ll be alright.”

       Luna led the group out back onto the stage and flounced to a log that appeared and sat down and began to weave a daisy chain. The others followed and sat down next to her and  Hannah began to speak:

      “They shouldn’t be here. Especially the Lady Morgana. Isn’t she the King’s ward?”

       “Not that it you’d know it. She’s the only person I know who isn’t frightened of him,” Harry replied.

       Theo started to talk again, “The group settled in for the night, sending Merlin off to gather firewood where he runs into a familiar face.”

       Harry stood up and walked away from the log only to run face first into Draco.

       “I’d ask you for money, but I know you don’t have any,” Draco said, and Harry jumped back in fake shock.

       “Arthur!” Harry cried out and pulled Draco into a hug making the audience coo again.

       Theo snickered and continued talking, “The group made it to Merlin’s hometown and save the villagers from the bandit and Arthur started to teach the villagers how to fight.”

       Draco brandished a sword about to and fro and Harry narrowly dodged getting clipped by the end. The villagers, an assortment of their classmates milled about and pretended to train, stumbling into one another and tripping over their own feet. Poor Neville face planted into the ground after Luna gave a particularly vicious twirl of her wooden sword that he narrowly dodged. Morgana couldn’t contain the grin that crossed her face at their actions on stage, it was a bittersweet memory for her, one of the first times she acknowledged her growing feelings for Merlin, but seeing it acted out so purely by the children, it eased any pain it brought up.

      The training montage ended as Harry and Draco settled down to sleep on the floor.

      Draco was mocking Harry as Merlin for sleeping on the floor before asking him why he came to Camelot. Harry’s response had Morgana clutching at her chest, the longing in her boy’s voice carrying the echoes of the past.

     “I just didn’t fit in anymore. I wanted to find somewhere that I did.”

     “Had any luck?”

      “I’m not sure yet.”

      Sirius had been watching the show with an air of amusement but at those words he straightened himself in his seat. It was like his pup was channeling an 11-year-old Sirius from when he first started at Hogwarts and was desperate for connection. Looking over at Morgana he could see the same longing in her eyes, the same desire to belong. Remus shifted next to him and reached over to entwine their hands, squeezing as the play continued on and Theo narrated a rather impressive fight scene where the children managed to flail about on stage in a way that made sense.

     Tom Riddle wasn’t one for introspection, but after the last few weeks of his new life he figured he had earned it. Seeing the young form of his downfall echoing his own sentiments of a lonely childhood made him wonder if perhaps there was more that connected him to the boy, to this world. He’d set himself apart from everyone for so long, the bullying he received at the orphanage had started his isolation, but the mocking and sneers of his first years at Hogwarts, where everyone assumed he was a mudblood and treated him accordingly had proved to him that he would never belong with them, nor did he want to. He had ruled them at a distance with fear and power, and yet…and yet seeing the child now, and looking to the woman next to him whose eyes shone with similar sentiment, perhaps he’d been wrong to make such judgments at such an early age.

     Harry hadn’t been this excited in a long time. He loved acting, and Mumgana had cried and hugged him and laughed and cursed Merlin for some reason after his performance. They’d come back to Corvus Place for an after party and all his friends were running around hopped up on candy. He was sitting quietly for a moment in the corner, taking some time for himself though. Being on stage he hadn’t been Just Harry, he hadn’t been Pup or Little One, he’d been someone else, and it was freeing. He loved being all those things for his family, but the freedom of the stage or being someone else was great. And being Merlin, well that had been awesome. He liked that Merlin wasn’t some titan of magic, Merlin was awkward and anxious and wanted friends just like him. Ever since Mumgana had saved him from the Dursley’s he’d felt warm and safe, he’d started to belong, but sometimes…he still heard the word freak in his head, still felt the cold of the cupboard under the stairs. He belonged in his new home though, fit in with his friends like Drake and Nev and Hermione and Luna, just like Merlin had with Arthur and Gwen and Morgana.

     Shaking his head at his confusing thoughts he laughed at the sight of Padfoot pulling Mumgana into an impromptu dance as Moony snickered in the corner. Mumgana’s new friend Tom was standing off in the corner, their celebration’s making the man alternate between sneering and smirking. He wasn’t sure what to think of the new man, Mumgana had seemed nervous when they met, and Padfoot and Moony were really, really angry, was Tom Mumgana’s boyfriend like Charlie Weasley was Nym’s? He hoped not, he was really looking forward to Padfoot and Moony becoming his dad’s, he’d been planning it for years now. He wanted his family to stay together forever and what better way than if his godfather and uncle married Morgana? Then no one would be able to separate them, and everyone could be happy.

    “Harry come on and tell Hermione I made the best Arthur,” Drake called from across the room, drawing Harry’s attention away from the adults. Making his way over to them, Harry dismissed his worries about Tom and Mumgana, he’d figure out what was happening later on.

Ϟϟϟ

     Remus shifted from foot to foot, they’d decided to talk to Harry about their relationship with Morgana the day after the play, but Sirius was late, and he was getting anxious. His pup was reading in the corner of the library, calm after the previous day’s excitement but he himself was full of nerves that for once had nothing to do with his time of the month. Moony was anxious too, he wanted his pup to favor his choice of mates and kept prodding Remus to say something and start the discussion. Picking up his cup of lukewarm tea Remus sipped at it and coughed at the bitterness of the leaves that had steeped too long. Setting the cup back down he thought “fuck it” and went over to kneel in front of Harry, Sirius could play catch up when he got there.

    “Harry, do you have a moment to talk?” he asked.

    Looking up from his book Harry tilted his head slightly to take in the form of his honorary uncle/father figure. Moony seemed, awkward, his hair was all messy and his face was red. Putting his book down on his lap Harry nodded his head and waited for his Moony to continue.

    “I know you’ve probably noticed some shifting dynamics lately, between Sirius, myself, and Morgana, before she left to bring Tom back that is,” Remus paused and waited for Harry to acknowledge his words which he did with a soft smile. “Anyways, we talked and we wanted to bring it to you before we go any further but the three of us love each other, and well…we are going to be together, like a couple, but with three…and we just wanted to let you know that we love you and no matter what happens between us, we’ll always be there for you. Nothing is going to change the fact that you’re our pup,” he stopped as the words caught in his throat, never had he more wished that Lily and James could be there at that moment to both support him but also to be there for their son. Harry was looking up at him with such open, emerald eyes that embodied such innocence yet such knowing, and he felt like he was bollixing up the entire conversation.

   “Remus is right little one,” a soft voice said from behind him, startling Remus as he hadn’t noticed Morgana’s entrance. She swept up next to him and pulled Harry into a gentle half hug before turning to look at Remus with such a warm expression he felt Moony turn over in his head and practically whine.

   “We love you pup, and while we love each other and are going to start dating, after you leave for Hogwarts, we’re always going to put you first…do you have any questions for us?” Sirius added as he walked into the room from his position in the entryway.

    Harry shifted in his seat to look at his three guardians. He was trying so hard to keep from wiggling about with joy, it was finally happening! But he had to keep his cool, he had to be mature like Hermione said he should be when this happened.

    “I’m happy for you all, and I love you,” the whisper left him, and he couldn’t quite contain the squeak at the very end as he said I love you.

    “So no questions?” Morgana asked her eyebrow quirked in disbelief.

    “No, none that I want answered. You’re grown-ups and that sort of kissing stuff is gross…but I do want to know who Tom is and why you left for so long to take care of him?”

     Morgana shifted away from him slightly, debating whether she should share the full truth with him before deciding that yes, there wouldn’t be any secrets, secrets had damned her in the past, and she would not be like Uther.

    “Tom…Tom is Tom Riddle Jr. He is Voldemort as he should have been. I used his horcruxes that I collected and brought him back, reformed, and mostly whole. He is going to help us in our fight against Voldemort and the other darkness in the world.”

    Harry froze, the pretty man who had smiled at him and patted him on the head the previous night after his performance was the man who killed his parents. Why would Mumgana? He stopped that train of thought, he trusted his mum, he knew she saw things that no one else could, she had a plan, and if Moony and Padfoot were alright with it, he should be too. It hurt though, the thought that the person who killed his parents had taken his Mumgana away from him so long. She’d been gone for weeks. To help Moldie Shorts. Ugh. His head hurt. Rubbing at his eyes he looked up at everyone and froze, Mumgana looked like she was about to cry and Padfoot and Moony were looking at him like they used to when he was younger and remembering the Dursleys.

    “Is he gonna hurt anyone?”

    “No little one, I won’t let him hurt any of us. He’s sworn not to. I’ve made him take several oaths to such effect. I wish it hadn’t been necessary to be away so long, but the spell took much out of me and I had to make sure that it worked and that he was not…Voldemort. Because he’s not Harry, he is what Voldemort was before the horcruxes stripped him of his sanity, of what little compassion and morality he had. I know it might be hard to understand and we can discuss it if you want, but I’ve seen how instrumental he will be in the future for us,” Morgana reached out and brushed his hair away from his face and he leaned into the motion.

     “I…not now. Later maybe, can we just,” Harry’s voice broke and he was swept up in a three-way hug between his guardians. Wrapped up in their arms, he felt warmth spread down his body and he knew that no matter what, they would always be there for him, Tom Riddle or not.

Ϟϟϟ

     Merlin stood before the mouth of the cave, his latest conversation with Kilgarrah troubling him. The Great Dragon had seen a great darkness appear where none had dwelled before and had blamed Morgana for it again. Scrying into a crystal he’d nicked from the caves centuries ago he tried to focus his magic to see what Kilgharrah was talking about, but the crystal remained blank. The dragon had intimated that the darkness had centered around Morgana’s ritual with the veil between the living and the dead and Tom’s resurrection but all his research regarding the matters hadn’t revealed anything out of place. Shaking his head, he dismissed Kilgarrah’s warnings, there was nothing there, save the dragon’s dislike for Morgana, ever present even these centuries after Camelot. Kilgarrah could hold a grudge like no one else and Morgana’s bond with Aithusa angered the older dragon. He was trying to stir dissent between the two titans of the Old Religion and Merlin wouldn’t let him, not again.

Ϟϟϟ

     Albus Dumbledore sat in his office giddily going through the Hogwarts response letters for this new year’s batch of students. The positive replies from the Weasley’s, Patil’s, Bones’, and Abbot’s meant that the Light would have a strong showing in first year’s class. He’d received Harry Potter’s response earlier that morning, brought in by a snowy white owl that hooted disdainfully at him before dropping the letter on his head and disappearing out the window. The boy had responded politely, stating that he was looking forward to coming to Hogwarts and was excited to be taught by his “Aunt Minnie.” Briefly Dumbledore wondered if Minerva would notice that several of the first-year responses had been redirected to him, but he dismissed that thought. He’d given her the task of rounding up several new professors as well as reviewing their curriculum for the new year and she’d been running around in a frantic manner ever since. No, Minerva wouldn’t be bothering him over this, it was a trivial thing anyways and he doubted she would care much anyways. He was headmaster after all.

     Now his plans were starting to come into fruition, although the boy’s adoption and subsequent rearing by Black and that foul Le Fay woman had thrown a bludger into his initial plans, this coming year with Harry under his watchful eye would see things mended. He already had several tasks in mind to gauge the boy’s power and temperament and had carefully maneuvered several pawns to ensure the boy made the right sort of friends at the start of the year. The Weasley boy for starters, would keep him from the Dark and guide him down the path of righteousness. He would be sorted into Gryffindor for sure, and that would most definitely cause a rift between him and that damnable Le Fay (he conveniently forgot that the woman had never actually been to Hogwarts and therefore wouldn’t have any stereotypes against particular houses, in his mind she was a Slytherin through and through).

     His most faithful pawn, Severus, would be sure to instill a deep dislike for all things Slytherin by his treatment of the boy. He didn’t even need to manipulate the man; he knew his deep loathing of James Potter would do it for him. The newly returned Quirrell with his very obvious parasite Voldemort would be a significant detriment to the boys’ defense skills and he’d be able to gauge how deep the connection ran between Voldemort and the boy, the prophecy had to be maintained after all. The Wizengamot would slowly start to fall back to the Light after his new proposal through his puppet Arthur Weasley regarding muggles and the introduction of muggleborns into society as soon as their magic was detected. It was similar, to what he knew from his conversations with Minerva, her coven was working on, but with the provisos that the children be removed from their muggle parents and placed entirely with Light families as guardians. He couldn’t have the muggle world influencing them too much, and he knew indoctrination into the Light needed to happen early so that the children wouldn’t question certain traditions too much or try to learn more about the wizarding world on their own.

     He was the Leader of the Light after all and their new minds needed to be sheltered and brought to his, their, way of thinking sooner than later. Though his ill-thought out union with Gellert in his youth had gone awry he hadn’t changed his stance that muggles were inferior to wizards, he’d just adapted it. The Wizarding World were sheep and they needed him to guide them. The Light was the only way to do so. The Dark had too many traditions and practices steeped in dark magic and blood purity that he couldn’t work with or manipulate, while the Light embraced him with open arms for his defeat of Gellert. They listened to whatever he had to say and never questioned him (barring recent dissenters in the form of Augusta Longbottom and Amelia Bones that is, but they were women and he knew that women were often fickle minded). Their new leader in Morgana Le Fay was a misguided American who was far too Dark and far too outspoken to be taken seriously and would soon be beaten back by the traditionalists in the Dark faction. He was looking forward to that to be honest. Yes, it was all coming together rather nicely now.

Ϟϟϟ

      Not for the first time since he’d traveled to Albania, Quirinus Quirrell lamented his idiocy and blind acceptance of the Dark Lord into his life. The parasite on the back of his head was leeching his magic and his life and he hadn’t had a proper wank in months because the thing kept him from holding an erection with its sharp barbs and caustic comments about the uselessness of sex as anything but a manipulator. He was frustrated and pent up and had no outlet. And now he was supposed to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, a subject he barely managed to get Exceeds Expectations in and didn’t even hold a Mastery for, all because the Dark Lord convinced him to apply. Dumbledore must have been truly desperate to hire him for the position and now he had to sit through hours of meetings with Minerva McGonagall as she ripped apart his lesson plans and critiqued him for every choice he made. Sitting across from her at their third meeting in two days he felt like Avada-ing himself for his life choices. Things were much easier when he was just a nobody muggle studies professor who kept students ignorant of the true world.

     “Quirinus are you listening to me. Stop daydreaming and pay attention, I said you shouldn’t introduce first years to the disarming charm until after you’ve taught them the basic ethics of dueling,” McGonagall snapped at him, glaring when he rolled his eyes and noted down her comments. His life was officially the worst.

Ϟϟϟ

      Voldemort wished once more that a stronger wizard had crossed his path in Albania those past months. Quirrell was an idiot of the highest order, controlled by his base emotions and weaker than his cannon fodder Death Eaters. He missed his old body, with its power and strength and ability to strike fear in all. But his old body had been destroyed by the Potter brat, a boy barely old enough to walk had obliterated his body and sent his spirit screaming in the dark. Soon he would have his revenge, soon the boy would face him, and he would know pain. 

Ϟϟϟ

      Arcturus watched as the younger generation twirled around the solar of Corvus Place, his heir flirting outrageously with the wolf and the eternal witch. Six years ago he was staring down oblivion, his family line all but extinct with only batty Walburga left alive and Sirius in prison, leaving the male line bereft. Now he had a strong heir courting two strong matches, and Narcissa had shown herself to be true to her Black blood, not the Malfoy’s, and the family had reunited, not once, not twice, but every month for the past six years discussing their role in the Wizarding world. He was old, not that old for a wizard, but old enough that he could feel it in his bones. He wondered how life would have been different if it wasn’t for Harry, his heir’s heir. A bright boy who made him long to hold his own children one last time. Or Morgana, a woman who terrified and inspired him in equal regard, who had brought them all together. 

     A smile settled over his face as his idiot grandson turned into his animagus form and let Harry launch himself on his back. Too many emotions for one night. Shaking himself, he gave them all a small wave before heading to grab his coat, a drink at the Leaky Cauldron would keep the feelings at bay, and he could always keep an ear out for gossip to help the Black family cause.

Ϟϟϟ

    The loud knocking at the front door had the members of Corvus house stumbling out of their rooms the next morning. Harry’s hair was a mess of tangles and curls, a shorter version of Morgana’s mane which she simply tossed over her shoulder as she tied her dressing gown. Sirius barely shrugged his on as he tugged his pants further up his waist, Remus on his heels fixing the neck of his hastily donned shirt. Tom was on a lower level and was already standing at the front door when they got there, his shirt and pants a simple white and black combo, but immaculately buttoned and straight, the only sign he’d just woken up in the red tinged glare he wore. 

    Nodding at Tom, Morgana stepped past him to open the door, her eyes blinking at the harsh daylight. A man and a woman stood before her, and it took her a second before she recognized them.

    “Aurors Shacklebolt and Moody, what can I do for you?”

    At the word aurors, Tom melted into the background and disappeared around the corner while Sirius and Remus pushed Harry behind them and stepped forward.

    “Sirius Orion Black, Heir of House Black lives here yes?” Shacklebolt said, ignoring Morgana’s question.

    “I’m here, Kings. What’s the problem?” Sirius replied. 

    “Your grandfather, Lord Arcturus Black was found dead last night at the Leaky Cauldron. Our investigation is undergoing, but as his Heir you were to be notified,” Moody said.

    Sirius stood there frozen, Arcturus was dead. His grandfather, was dead.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seventeen: Hogwarts, Finally. 

               Harry sat bolt upright as a smile spread across his face. It was September 1; he was going to Hogwarts. Throwing himself from his bed he tripped over his slippers and stumbled causing Hedwig to ruffle her feathers and glare at him.

             “Little speaker what are you doing?” Nagini hissed at him from her nest among his sheets, her head tilted slightly as Harry kicked at his slippers.

            “It’s Hogwarts time Nagini! We’re going to go to Hogwarts!” Harry replied.

             Shaking her head at his exuberance Nagini twisted and then lowered her head and fell back asleep as Harry began running around the room trying to remember where he set his clothes for the day. He’d asked Bitty for a simple breakfast that morning, knowing that they’d be running late since Padfoot and Moony were terrible at waking up on time. Tugging his maroon sweater over his head while holding his glasses in one hand he ran down the hall.

             “Wake up! Wake up! It’s Hogwarts day!” he shouted as he ran down the hall.

             A messy head of brown curls poked out from the room Mumgana shared with his uncles as Moony blinked sleep from his eyes. 

             “Harry its eight, we have time, calm down.”

             “We don’t want to be late though. Come on, we have to get going,” Harry replied as he continued down the hall and to the staircase towards the second level with the kitchen.

              Shaking his head at Harry’s enthusiasm, Remus smiled and turned back towards his bedroom where Morgana was already dressed and trying to convince a bundled-up Sirius to move.

             “Move Sirius, your godson wants to have breakfast with all of us before we leave,” she said, jabbing him with her fingers in his sides. 

             Sirius popped his head out of his burrito of blankets to glare at Morgana as she continued to poke at him, his hair sticking out at all sides as he did. 

             “I’m up, I’m up. Knock it off.”

              “You’re only up if you’re moving, Pads,” Remus chuckled as he headed towards the bathroom to get started for the day, ignoring the rude gesture Sirius threw at him as he began untangling himself from his blankets. 

              Ignorant of the childish actions of his guardians, Harry was already halfway through his first cup of tea as they all trudged into the dining room. Bitty was standing over him with an apron around her neck that had the words, “World’s Best House-Elf” emblazoned in emerald green across the middle. 

             “Master Harry needs to slow down, or he’ll get sick,” she scolded him, waving her spatula at him as she did. 

             “I am,” Harry pouted up at her, widening his eyes as he did. 

             “That no work on Bitty,” she replied, shaking her head as she did, her ears flapping. 

             Harry shrugged and grinned back at her before turning towards the food arrayed on the table and dishing up a plate of bacon and eggs for himself while Bitty tried to subtly add pieces of fruit to it. 

             “Morning Bitty, thanks for breakfast,” Remus yawned as he sat down and took the cup of coffee the house-elf proffered to him. 

             “Of course Bitty makes breakfast, it’s a very important day for the young master,” with a fond smile at Harry, Bitty disapparated back to the kitchen.

             Settling down at the table Morgana picked up a piece of toast and began to nibble on it as Sirius laid out the plan for getting to King’s Cross.

             “We’ll be apparating there at 10 and we’ll meet up with Narcissa and Draco. The Granger’s said they’d be driving and that they’d meet us there and we know Augusta wanted to get there early with Neville on the off chance he wakes up on time.” Sirius had taken a much more hands on role in parenting Harry after Arcturus was killed several months before. The Black Patriarch’s murder had rattled him and woken him up to how important it was to live in the moment, and he’d started teaching Harry about the history of their House and House Potter. He was sad that those lessons had to come to an end now that Harry was heading off to Hogwarts, but the Wizengamot was about to reconvene and he had to take up the mantle as Lord Black. Things were changing for everyone and he was determined to be serious about life from here on out. 

              Morgana smiled at Sirius as he detailed the next few hours to everyone. They’d already discussed their plans the night before, but the fact he felt the need to go over it again so seriously showed how much he’d matured over the last few months, or years rather. He’d come a long way from the stubborn man who’d refused to see a mind healer when they first met. She was proud of him, proud of the way he’d taken up his heritage as a Black while maintaining his Gryffindor pride and courage. He was set to take up his historical seat on the Wizengamot in several weeks while Remus was taking over her research into the Old Religion as she started her next plan of attack. Tom, well she wasn’t sure what he was planning on doing exactly. The former Dark Lord was rather reticent on sharing details of his plans with her just yet, something she attributed to her rather harsh denigration of his past plots. 

              Speaking of the man, she smirked as he wandered into the dining room, his hair perfectly styled, and his shirt and trousers pressed and unwrinkled. Sitting down next to Harry he fit in quite well next to her wild ward who was gesturing about with a spoon as he told his uncles his plans for the train ride. Her smirk widened as Harry turned and greeted Tom, her boy had all but adopted the man as a third uncle, surprising everyone, but none more so than Tom himself who still expected Harry to hate him. 

              “Morning Tom,” Harry chirped at him, his green eyes wide as he smiled up at the older man. 

             Tom tried to hold back his smile but failed rather spectacularly; there was something about Harry that made it impossible not to care for the boy. He had an unfailing kindness in him, something that Tom had never seen before and wanted to never fade. He knew though that the boy was heading into the lion’s den, and Dumbledore would be there ready to manipulate him like the rest of his pawns. He wouldn’t let the old fool have the satisfaction though, he’d ruined Tom’s childhood, he tried to ruin Harry’s early on, but he wouldn’t let him do any further damage. The boy’s past with the Dursley’s was exactly the sort of cruel malfeasance that he expected from Dumbledore, and Tom was excited to join in on the coven’s vengeance upon the horrid muggles - he’d promised Morgana his aide in that endeavor very early on in their acquaintance. 

              Pushing past thoughts of stringing up the muggles and hitting them with the Cruciatus, he turned his attention towards breakfast and let himself get pulled into the mundane shenanigans that filled Corvus Place.

            Soon it was time to head off to King’s Cross, and Tom broke off from the group, heading to his rooms to study for his Mastery in Potions that he was determined to get. He couldn’t quite get out fast enough and found himself roped into a hug from Harry who all but tackled him.

            “I’ll write every week. I want to hear what you and Remus discover in those old texts Mumgana had in her vaults,” Harry promised as he wrapped his arms around the older man’s waist. 

            Patting Harry awkwardly on the back, Tom replied that he would and warned Harry to take care of himself at Hogwarts.

            “You’ve built yourself a strong group of allies over the years, but Hogwarts is different than that little school you went to. There are witches and wizards from all backgrounds, and you need to broaden your horizons. You’ll be separated from your friends in different Houses. Don’t do what I did and limit yourself to your House, be smarter than that, and be wary of Dumbledore. He’s been quiet for too long and I know he will seek to influence you since you’ll be directly under his nose.”

            “I know, and I will Tom. Thank you,” Harry replied before turning to join his guardians to apparate to the train station. 

            The four of them appeared with little fanfare on Platform 9 ¾ at one after ten o’clock and quickly set out to find Narcissa and Draco. The former Lady Malfoy was seated on a bench not far from the train, her young daughter in her arms as Draco paced back and forth in front of her. Seeing Harry, he lit up and ran to greet his best friend, his grey eyes shining as he began to babble in excitement.

             “Can you believe it? We’re finally here,” he said. 

             “It’s going to be totally awesome,” Harry replied with a laugh as Draco hugged him before turning back towards his mother and sister.

            “Are you sure you and Cassie are going to be alright mother?”

             Narcissa shook her head at her son’s worry, her face light and unburdened after so many years of living in shadow with Lucius. 

            “We will be my little dragon, now is your time to shine.”

            “Mum,” Draco kicked at the ground, his cheeks flushing as his mother began to chuckle at him. 

            Morgana and Sirius sat down next to Narcissa, Sirius quickly stealing Cassie from his cousin and covering her face in kisses, barking out laughter as the little girl squealed and giggled in his arms. Remus shook his head at his mate’s antics and watched over Harry and Draco with a fond smile as the two boys began to animatedly detail the epic game of exploding snap they were planning as soon as they boarded the train. A familiar yell drew everyone’s attention down the platform where they saw Hermione come rushing towards them, her bush of curls flying behind her. Her parents were walking at a steady pace to reach them, their calm a direct contrast to Hermione’s manic energy as she flew into Draco and Harry’s arms, babbling a mile a minute about all the books she’d been reading.

             “Did you know that there’s books about you Harry? There’s one called “The Rise and Fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named” and it says you defeated him with dark blood magics,” she barely managed to catch a breath as she blurted it all out.

             “Yeah I’ve read it. It’s all a load of rubbish, Mumgana tried to have the publisher’s pull the books for factual inaccuracy but they didn’t listen to her and said they were protected by freedom of the press.” Harry said, rolling his eyes as he did.

             “I thought the book was pretty funny,” a voice said from behind them and they all cheered as Neville’s face appeared next to Draco. 

             Pulling him into a hug Hermione beamed at the other three, content that they were all together at last. 

            “If only Luna was old enough, then everyone would be together,” she said, her voice wistful at the thought of the airy blonde’s absence.

            “We’ll all be together at Hogwarts soon enough. Now come on, we have to get our stuff on the train, Blaise and Theo already have a compartment picked out that will fit all of us and I’ve already seen Susan and Daphne,” Neville said, tugging on Harry’s arm to get the children moving. Together they all gathered their trunks and marched towards the train, leaving the adults to gather the rest of their belongings and follow.

            “They’ve already forgotten about us,” Sirius pouted as he held Hedwig in front of him.

            “They’re excited, remember how you were at that age. Their adventures are just beginning,” Morgana reminded him, her eyes glistening with tears as she thought of the paths before her young ward and the strengths of his friendships. 

             “I’m proud of all of them,” Narcissa murmured and Helen Granger burst into tears, prompting Remus to pull the woman into his arms for a hug. Augusta met them on the train, her eyes wet too as she motioned them towards the compartment where their children had congregated. Already they were laughing and joking about their journey just beginning. Entering the compartment, the adults quickly put away the cages and miscellaneous belongings while their children began their goodbyes.

             Draco pressed a kiss to his little sister’s head as his mother hugged him tight. Hermione got trapped in a hug between her parents, her hair the only thing visible. Neville lightly embraced his grandmother only to be pulled into her tight grasp as she kissed the top of his head. Harry wrapped his arms around Morgana and buried his face in her middle as Remus and Sirius pulled the two of them into one big embrace. 

              Pulling away from Harry Morgana wiped her eyes as the Marauders whispered their goodbyes to their Prongslet before he turned to say goodbye to her. 

             “Be safe and be happy little one, and know that I am always with you, as are your parents. We love you Harry,” Morgana whispered as she bent down to meet his emerald gaze with her own before leaning forward and kissing his forehead, imbuing no small amount of her own powers of protection on the boy. 

             Turning to pull Sirius and Remus onto either arm, Morgana left the children to their compartment and to their own paths. 

             Harry grinned at Draco and pulled out Nagini from her resting place in his sweatshirt pockets, placing her on his lap for optimum pets. 

             “We’re going to have so much fun,” Draco said his grey eyes alight with mischief as Hermione shook her head and pulled out a book, she wanted no part in whatever pranks the boys had planned.

              “So many pranks,” Neville whispered, laughing as Blaise who’d been silent until then rolled his eyes at them.

              “As long as they’re not directed at me, I don’t care what you do. Just don’t be stupid, that’s all I ask,” the boy said before turning towards Susan who walked in after the adults left to ask her a question about her aunt’s new policy on repeat minor offenders. 

               Theo said nothing as the three demons began their plotting, preferring to do as Hermione did and read quietly. While he’d like to help with the pranking, he wasn’t one to instigate anything and would rather wait for them to come to him for his help. 

              The compartment was relatively quiet for some time, only the occasional excited yelps from Draco could be heard, mainly when he said something stupid and Neville or Harry walloped him. A couple hours had passed, and it was nearing lunchtime when the doors opened and revealed the identical faces of the Weasley twins.

              “Look here Fred, looks like we’ve just found our favorite new little firsties,” one of the redheaded twins said, his eyes dancing with unholy mischief.

              “Looks like you’re right George, but then it’s been a few years since we’ve last seen them, maybe they’ve lost that cool factor,” the other replied.

              “We’re plenty cool,” Harry shot back, standing up to glare at the older wizards.

              “We’ll see,” Fred said as he smirked down at the first years.

              “Prank war, week one. First ones to get a score of ten out of ten wins,” George added.

              “Who’ll judge?” Neville asked as he stood up next to Harry.

              “We need someone impartial but with a sense of humor,” Draco said.

              “Our friend Lee could do it,” Fred offered but Harry turned him down.

              “If he’s a friend of yours he won’t be impartial.”

              “I’ll do it.” Susan and Hermione said it at the exact same time, startling everyone in the small compartment. Hermione had put down her book and was sizing the two groups up while Susan had pulled out a piece of parchment and started to list down a set of guidelines.

              “We need a set of rules. Starting with nothing that can hurt anyone. Nothing illegal. And nothing that gets anyone into serious trouble, including but not limited to, more than one detention and suspension from school,” Susan said as she began to list out her ideas. 

              The two groups agreed and signed her hastily drawn up contract, the twins excited to prank people and to see what the younger kids could come up with. Harry and company were just excited to start up the Marauders next generation and live up to Sirius and Remus’ stories. 

              The twins left after Susan finished up the guidelines of their little war and Harry started to think of the first prank they would pull. Draco had suggested using one of the spells Remus had taught them that would change the color of people’s robes. The lunch trolley came by soon after and between splurging on candy for everyone and getting actual lunch to eat the group contented themselves with eating. Nagini had found her way around Harry’s neck and had settled her head in the hollow of his throat as he finished eating and turned towards a noise outside the compartment. There was a knock at the door soon after.

                “Come in,” Harry called out, lifting a hand to pet at Nagini in thanks for her warning. 

                A young man with dark hair that covered the side of his face ducked into the apartment. Lifting his head to meet Harry’s gaze his hair fell back revealing a horrifying burn scar across the side of his face, skin twisted and bright red, the edges of his eyes compressed to the point where his pupil was barely visible. 

                “Hi, um. I’m Zuko, my Uncle said I should come and greet you. He’s friends with your mother,” Zuko lifted his hand in an awkward wave.

                “It’s nice to meet you Zuko, I’m Harry and these are my friends, Draco, Neville, Hermione, Blaise, Susan, and Theo,” Harry replied as he gestured over to his friends. 

                 Draco nodded his head at the older boy, his eyes darting back and forth from the scar to Harry before he finally blurted out, “You’re the son of the Fire Lord, right? From the Fire Nation islands in the south of Japan?”

                 Zuko flushed and nodded his head, twitching slightly at hearing his father’s title. 

                “Yeah, I’m his son. Or I was before Uncle and I were exiled. We uh…haven’t been back in years.”

                “You’re a Gryffindor by your tie, right?” Hermione piped up, her eyes flicking between glaring at Draco’s insensitivity and curiously looking at Zuko, “What year are you?”

                “Fifth year. Are you looking to be a Gryffindor?” a small smile slid on his face as Harry pulled Zuko down to sit next to him and join them.

                “It’s between that and Ravenclaw for me. I’m just not sure which house would be the best fit for me,” Hermione confessed.

               “I’m between Gryffindor and Slytherin myself,” Harry said, “Mumgana is a total Slytherin which shows they’re not like the stereotypes people say but my parents were Gryffindors.” 

                “Both are good houses. Uncle often reminds me that while the houses are sorted by different character traits, we all have different facets to ourselves and we shouldn’t try and narrow ourselves,” Zuko said as he took a chocolate frog from Neville.

               “That’s really good advice,” Susan replied after a minute of silence from everyone.

               “Well I’m going to be a Slytherin,” Draco boasted earning a series of slaps from Harry and Neville and giggles from the girls.

                “The day you’re cunning and clever is the day my mother settles down and stops marrying,” Blaise muttered, shaking his head as Theo covered his mouth to stifle his laughter.

               Unfortunately, Draco had caught Blaise’s words and took extreme offense. Launching himself at the other boy with a war cry the two wrestled on the floor. Harry tried to pull Draco off Blaise only to end up with an elbow to the stomach and so he joined them wrestling. Zuko was torn between stepping in and helping and just watching them with silent laughter but the decision was made for him when Hermione stood up and with her wand out. 

               “Rictumsempra,” she snapped, her wand flicking from boy to boy, hitting them with the tickling charm stopping the fight. Their faces went bright red as they shook with laughter, tears forming at the corner of their eyes.

               Sitting back down in her seat she stowed her wand in her sleeve and went back to her book, muttering the word boys as she did. 

               The rest of the train ride went smoothly as Zuko stayed and fielded questions about classes and professors from the kids. He vacillated between amused at the questions and wildly concerned. 

               “What’s Aunt Minnie, I mean Professor McGonagall like?”

               “When do we get to start practicing spells?”

              “Do we get to do any flying besides the flying lessons?”

             “Do people get seriously injured in practical lessons? What’s the ratio of dismemberment to permanent spell damage?”

             “Do people ever die from not using their magic?”

             “Do you trust the headmaster?”

             At the last one Zuko frowned and shook his head, Albus Dumbledore had been against his enrolling in Hogwarts from the beginning. Citing that the child of a warmongering Fire Lord would bring nothing but darkness to Hogwarts. The board of governors had overruled him and Zuko had been allowed to attend but he’d never forgotten the headmaster’s stance on him. 

             “He’s a paranoid old man with delusions of grandeur and self-importance. He defeated one Dark Lord over fifty years ago and he thinks that he’s the only one who can lead the so-called ‘Light’” Zuko made finger quotes as he said the word before making a rude hand gesture and cursing under his breath in his mother tongue.

             “Awesome, so you’re totally on our side then,” Harry said.

            “Your side?”

            “Yeah the anti-Dumbledore side. We’re small now, but we’ll grow in number and then Morgana will kick him out of the Wizengamot, Hogwarts, and the ICW,” Harry’s words were animated and he practically vibrated in his seat as he talked about their plans to ruin Dumbledore. He knew the man’s role in placing him with the Dursley’s and his role in keeping Sirius in Azkaban. While he would normally give the man a second chance, since everyone deserved at least one, Dumbledore had been rude to his Mumgana, and that was a line he crossed that he could never come back from in Harry’s eyes. 

              “I am honored to be on your side then,” Zuko smiled slightly at Harry, the younger boy’s enthusiasm was infectious, and he couldn’t help but get swept up in it.

              “I knew you were a rotten egg, but this just proves it,” a voice said from the compartment doors, drawing everyone’s attention to the newly arrived Ron Weasley. Flanked by two boys, one with soot along his forehead and short brown hair and the other tall, with skin just barely lighter than Blaise’s.

              “You don’t know anything Weasley, butt out,” Harry replied, glaring over at the boy. He remembered him from their encounter years ago and he didn’t look upon his interruption fondly.

             “Yeah well I know you have to be a dark lord in training, look at the company you keep, baby Death Eaters and Fire Nation scum, all murderers in the making,” Ron said back, his face red as his voice began to rise.

              “Ron you said we were just going to introduce ourselves, maybe we should go,” the brown-haired boy said, tugging on the redhead’s sleeve as he did.

              Looking at Harry and then looking behind him, Ron gulped as he saw the group of people he’d been insulting with wands drawn and in their hands. 

             “Yeah whatever, come on Seamus, Dean, we should go get ready.” Turning on his heel he stomped off, not seeing the apologetic looks on his companions faces before they followed behind him. 

             “Well he was unpleasant,” Hermione snapped as she shut her book.

             “Stupid Weasley,” Draco sniffed.

             “What’s his problem?” Zuko asked, raising his one eyebrow.

             “Dunno, he’s just always a prat when we see him,” Harry replied, glaring at the door.

            “Not even at Hogwarts yet and you’ve made an enemy,” Susan shook her head as she grabbed Hermione’s arm, “Come on we have to go get changed, we’re almost there.” 

            The girls left to go get changed and Zuko followed soon after to go get his robes and change himself. The boys all shrugged and pulled their robes out and started to get dressed, they were almost there. 

           The train pulled to a stop, and they all clambered against each other to get off. A loud voice shouted on the platform drawing their attention. 

          “First years, first years over here.”

          “Shall we go?” Hermione asked, jerking her head towards the congregation of first years at the end of the platform. 

          Nodding his head, Harry walked after her as the others just shrugged and followed. As they reached the end of the platform, they all came to a halt as they took in the form of a massive man holding a lantern aloft as he called for the first years. He was huge, bigger than anyone Harry had ever seen before with wild dark hair and large dark eyes, he was smiling as he met Harry’s gaze.

         “Come along then Harry,” he said, his voice a rough burr as he reached to pull Harry under his arm. 

         Hermione ducked her head as Draco sneered at the man and pulled Harry away from him saying, “What do you think you’re doing?”

        “I was just trying to guide Harry to the boats, I’m Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts, it’s my job,” the man replied, his rough voice sounding softer at the end, a touch of hurt in his words. 

        “How did you know who he was?” Neville peered up at the large man, his blue eyes widening as Hagrid started to laugh.

        “He looks just like his da, doesn’t he? Except for the eyes, he’s got his mum’s eyes,” Hagrid replied, making Harry cringe while the others pulled him along, away from the exuberant man. He felt weird, everyone always seemed to know who he was, and even though Hagrid seemed nice, it was a sign of what was to come in Hogwarts, he just knew it. Following his friends to the boats he stepped into one behind Draco, his mind off in a cloud as he worried over the future. 

        “Everyone in?” Hagrid’s voice boomed across the slew of boats bobbing on the water, jarring Harry from his reverie, “Right then—FORWARD.” 

        The boats moved as one, gliding across the dark waters of the lake. No one spoke as everyone took in the sight of Hogwarts looming along the horizon, it towered over them as they sailed closer and closer to the cliff it was built upon. 

         “Heads down everyone!” Hagrid yelled as the first boats reached the cliff; everyone followed suit, bowing their heads as the boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. The waters carried them through a dark tunnel, which seemed to take them right under the castle until they reached an underground harbor where the boats came to a stop. Clambering out onto rocks and pebbles Harry tripped over a wet stone, catching himself by grabbing a hold of Draco’s back, earning a glare from the blonde. Hagrid stood at the end of a passageway, a lantern illuminating the way as they came out onto smooth, damp grass beneath the shadow of the castle. 

         A set of stone stairs led up to a huge, oak front door, which Hagrid lifted one giant fist to and knocked three times. The door swung open, revealing a slightly smirking Minerva McGonagall. Bright emerald robes made her black hair stand out all the more and her glasses seemed to sparkle in the candlelight. 

        “The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid.

         “Thank you, Hagrid. I can see that,” she replied, making Harry snicker as Draco burst into a fit of giggles. 

         Hagrid shuffled off as she pulled the door wide, letting them see the massive entrance hall. The stone walls were lit with flickering torches, the ceilings reaching higher than Harry could imagine as a marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors. Following McGonagall across the flagged stone floor, Harry could hear the droning of the rest of the school, hundreds of voices overlapping each other. Instead of entering the main hall though, McGonagall showed them into a small, empty room off the hall. They crowded together, Neville peering around to look at everyone while Hermione seemed to vibrate with pent up excitement. 

         “Welcome to Hogwarts, the start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you can take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into Houses. The Sorting is an important ceremony as your house will become something like your family within Hogwarts. You have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your dormitories, and spend free time in your house common rooms,” here she paused and leveled an eyebrow at Harry and his friends who had long resigned themselves that they would be in separate houses.

          “That is not to say that you cannot befriend people outside of your House, in fact, interhouse friendships are encouraged. The four founders of the Houses were great friends. The houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each of them has a deep and rich history attached not just to the founders, but to each member, and you will add your own stories as you go. While you’re here at Hogwarts, you will earn points for your House, in lessons and outside of them, while any rule breaking therein and out will cost you house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points wins the house cup, a great honor that carries into the next year. I hope that each and every one of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”

          Looking at Harry and his friends again, McGonagall let a real smile cross her face, lightening her eyes and taking several years of stress away. 

          “The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you freshen yourselves up as you wait. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.” She left the chamber as Harry swallowed down another laugh. 

           Everyone began to talk amongst themselves nervously and Hermione started to pester Draco to tell her how they would be sorted. Morgana hadn’t told them anything of what to expect, mainly Harry suspected, because she had never been to Hogwarts, but also because she claimed she wanted them to have the full experience. Everything seemed to be coming together, he was finally at Hogwarts, he had his friends with him, and with Aunt Minnie on his side, Dumbledore wouldn’t know what hit him. 

           “Do you think they’ll make us perform any spells?” Blaise glared over at Theo and Neville who were whispering back and forth about the sorting.

          “It’s a hat, idiots. We put on a hat that tells us what house we go to, it’s not a test of anything. It’s just a tradition. Mother said the hat is sentient and can read our thoughts,” Blaise said.

          “Well that’s anticlimactic,” Draco muttered as Hermione sighed and wrung her hands.

          “I don’t like the idea of something reading my thoughts,” Harry frowned, after all his lessons with Mumgana, and before her Grandpa Arcturus, he knew that he shouldn’t trust anything that wanted access to or could get into his mind. 

         “It does seem a bit suspect, what does a hat need with our thoughts?” Hermione asked, her head tilted as she began to run through several ideas. 

         “It’s tradition,” Blaise shrugged and glared over at several people who shrieked as a group of ghosts floated through the chamber, “Tradition is a big thing in the Wizarding World, if you haven’t learned that yet, you’re hopeless.”

        “We know, it’s just frustrating that we have no say,” Harry replied, frowning as the door opened again and McGonagall stood before them.

        “Move along now, the Sorting Ceremony is about to begin. Form a line and follow me,” gesturing with her drawn wand she stood there until everyone started to file behind her. Getting in line behind Draco and Hermione, Harry felt his stomach sink at the thought of facing the crowds of students. He could hear the whispers as they started to file into the hall, people murmuring his name until it got louder and louder and he could hear everything. 

        “Look its Harry Potter.”

        “I heard he was raised by an American.”

        “He looks so small.”

        “He survived a Killing Curse.”

        “Can you see his scar?” 

        “Who’s he standing next to?” 

        “There’s no way he’s going anywhere but Gryffindor.” 

         Wincing as the whispers got louder and louder the deeper they got into the hall, Harry tried to duck his head behind Neville who was just a hair taller than him. Seeing that, Hermione reached out and grabbed a hold of his hand, squeezing it in her own as she did. Draco grabbed the other hand, his face pinched as he glared down the offending hall. 

         With Hermione on one side and Draco on the other, Harry tried to breathe slowly, in and out of his mouth. He knew that Aunt Minnie was saying something, that there were several first years moving to and from the front of the hall where he’d glimpsed a worn hat sitting on a stool, but he couldn’t focus on that. He could barely focus on his breathing. He knew abstractly that he was famous, it was a very tangible part of him, but Mumgana had always sheltered him from this, this madness. He was a baby when Voldemort attacked him and killed his parents. Even Tom said there was nothing too special about him, that it was his mother’s blood magic invocation that saved him. But people didn’t know that, and he doubted they’d believe it, Mumgana said the Wizarding World were sheep that followed Dumbledore blindly to the slaughter. He tried to keep himself from shaking, he had to keep it together, it was his first day, he was stronger than this, stronger than these sheep who wanted to unnerve him.

         “Granger, Hermione.” He felt Hermione’s hand leave his own before hearing her named called, drawing his attention back to the Sorting. Looking around the hall, he saw Susan Bones sitting in a sea of gold and black; she’d been sorted into Hufflepuff, and Hannah Abbot was sitting next to her. 

        Hermione looked so small sitting on top of a rickety old stool, the old hat settling deep over her eyes. She seemed to fidget in place, her hands twisting along the folds of her skirt. He knew what house the hat would pick, even if Hermione had been waffling between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor earlier that day. 

       “RAVENCLAW!” the hat called out and Hermione pulled it off with a bright flush crossing her face as she set it down before running off towards the bronze and blue table. 

       “Well that was a given, girl reads more books than Uncle Remus,” Theo muttered, glaring at Blaise as the boy mouthed the word ‘uncle’ at him. Theo spent most of his time over at Corvus Place when he wasn’t at House Zabini, his father had washed his hands of raising his son and basically given him to the other families to deal with. 

      “What do you want to bet the hat isn’t even on a second before Drake’s sent to Slytherin?” Harry asked, trying to change the topic to keep Theo from getting unsettled. 

      “That’s a fools’ bet, I’d rather bet on which house Nev’s gonna get in,” Theo replied.

      “Oooh, it's definitely between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, depends on whether Nev values bravery over loyalty,” Blaise cackled, rubbing his hands together. 

        Neville glared at the two of them before heading off towards the Sorting Hat as McGonagall called his name. He knew what house he’d be sorted into; the others were just being ridiculous. The hat barely sat on his head before it was screaming out, “HUFFLEPUFF.” 

        “Loyalty it is then, that’s nice to know,” Harry muttered, earning a smirk from Draco before the blonde sauntered up to the hat as his name was called. 

        Just as Harry predicted, the hat was barely on Draco’s head before it called out, “SLYTHERIN,” earning an even wider smirk from Draco and a giggle from Hermione amidst the sea of blue as Draco’s tie turned green and silver. 

       Their little friend group was whittling down as more and more names were called to the sorting. Theo ended up in Ravenclaw along with Hermione. Parvati Patil was a Gryffindor, while her sister Padma was sorted to Ravenclaw and sat next to Hermione, obviously grateful for a familiar face. Harry rocked back on his heels as Aunt Minnie narrowed her eyes at the crowd, seeking him out. As her eyes alighted on his own green ones, she called out his name, “Potter, Harry.” 

       The hall went silent as he walked up towards the stool. He knew that this moment, while immensely important in some respects, was ultimately meaningless. Mumgana had told him no matter what house he was sorted into she would be proud, and while Padfoot joked that he’d disown him if he was a Slytherin, he knew his godfather was being ridiculous when he said that. He didn’t really care where he went, he just wanted it to be his choice, not some stupid hat’s. 

       “ So, you think I’m stupid ?” a voice whispered in the back of his head, startling Harry, he hadn’t even realized that the hat was on his head. 

       Wincing Harry tried to deny it almost immediately, but then decided better of it, why should he be polite to a hat that was digging around in his head when it had no permission to do so?

       “ No permission eh? All the permission was given when Godric and Rowena enchanted me all those years ago. I’m the Sorting Hat, I’ve sorted thousands of Hogwarts students and I’ll sort thousands more, just because you’re the ward of Morgana le Fey and the Boy-Who-Lived doesn’t mean you’re special. You’re just a boy, and I think I know where to place you.”

       What did that mean? Harry shifted on the stool, his feet dangling over the edge swinging back and forth. Before he could think of a response, he felt a strange surge of magic flow from the hat and into him as the hat called out, “GRYFFINDOR.”

       Pulling the hat from his head, he winced at the roar that erupted from the red and gold table. While he was ecstatic he was in the house of his parents, of the Marauders, of Aunt Minnie, he knew it was going to be a difficult transition, for the other side of his family was most definitely made of Slytherins. Walking over to the table he sat down between the Weasley twins, the two boys grinning broadly as they clapped him on the back.

       “Welcome to the lion house little Harrykins, glad to have you here,” one twin said while the other gave him a crooked thumbs up.

       “It’s good to have you here Harry,” Zuko said as he leaned around the twins to smile at Harry who smiled back, it was hard not to, Zuko’s face was so seldom happy, it inspired happiness in those around him.

     “Thanks guys, I can’t wait for the prank war now. It’ll be even easier getting at you when we share the same house,” Harry let out a wicked grin as the twins cackled in response and Zuko slowly shook his head. He knew that Blaise would go to Slytherin, leaving him the only one in their immediate circle in Gryffindor, having Zuko and the twins on his side would help his transition into a new house without his family.