Prologue: Moments in Time
"Baba Anya, will you tell me a story?" a little dark-haired girl asked in Russian. Morgan Fair had wild black hair and bright green eyes and had just lost her front tooth. She sat up on her bed, surrounded by her favorite stuffed animals, including Macbeth the cat. Macbeth was her favorite, despite being worn down to threads after years of snuggling in bed together.
The old woman on the rocking chair in the corner smiled. The little girl's Russian was getting better. "Of course I will, little Morgan," Anya said in English. "What kind of story would you like?" She calmly knit as she spoke to her seven-year-old goddaughter.
Morgan scrunched up her face, thinking. "One about your home."
Anya chuckled. "My home is here, little one."
"No, your old home," Morgan said, as if it was obvious. "Russia."
"All right then. Where should I start?"
Morgan giggled. "The beginning, of course!"
There was once a man in Russia by the name of Rasputin. Many know him, both as the wizard and as the man. He was fearsomely powerful, but he always wanted more.
He decided to sell his soul to the Devil so that he could gain more magic. His mother, She-of-the-Chicken-Legged-House herself, cautioned him against it, but Rasputin did not listen.
Using dark, dark magic, he tried to call up the Devil. First, he called up the Devil's son.
"Where is your father?" Rasputin asked the Devil's son.
"Farther down than you called, Two-Eyed Wizard. For a price, I can help you call him up, for he usually listens to me."
Rasputin agreed, and the Devil's son took his left eye. Using the power of the Devil's son, Rasputin tried to call up the Devil again.
This time, he reached the Devil's grandfather.
"Where is your grandson?" Rasputin asked the Devil's grandfather.
"Farther down than you called, One-Eyed Wizard. For a price, I can help you call him, for he will always listen to me."
Rasputin agreed, and the Devil's grandfather took his right eye. Using the power of the Devil's grandfather and son, Rasputin tried to call up the Devil once again.
This time, he succeeded. The Devil was impressed by Rasputin's stubbornness, and he agreed to give the wizard a great, dark power. The Devil said he would take his price later, and he disappeared back into the ground with his son and grandfather.
Now, this power that Rasputin got was the power to make others do his bidding. Very soon, he became the most powerful man in magical Russia.
"Why would he do that, Baba Anya?"
"You see, little one, even though Rasputin was a dark wizard, he was a good man who wanted to do great things. This was the only way he thought he could do those great things."
"Oh…" Morgan said, thinking. Her nose wrinkled in a frown. "But what if it wasn't the only way?"
Anya laughed. "But that's not how the story goes, little one."
"Then how does it go?"
Even Rasputin's own mother, She-of-the-Chicken-Legged-House, was impressed. She even fashioned a magical eye for her son so that he could see again.
Everyone in Mother Russia was under Rasputin's spell. Everyone, except the beautiful Czarina.
The Czarina had a husband, four lovely daughters, and a very sick son. She worried for her son night and day, and thus was not under Rasputin's spell.
Rasputin decided that this should not be so, and he made his way to the Russian court. He befriended the Czarina and her husband and started to charm them with his magic.
But he soon fell in love with the Czarina, and she him. They secretly had a daughter together.
Many men were jealous of Rasputin's power, and they tried to take it for themselves. Three times they tried, and three times they failed. After the third time, Rasputin took his daughter and escaped from the jealous men, even though he had to leave his beloved Czarina behind.
Rasputin and his daughter fled over the mountains, under the lakes, and across the icy tundra before they found themselves in the magical land where Rasputin came from.
She-of-the-Chicken-Legged-House brought her house to Rasputin and his daughter and welcomed them back into her home.
One day, Rasputin was out in his mother's forest, looking for some herbs for She-of-the-Chicken-Legged-House. On this day, the Devil decided to take his pay.
The Devil appeared to Rasputin and made another deal. The Devil asked for Rasputin's daughter as the price for Rasputin's magic. Rasputin refused and instead offered himself, for he loved his little daughter.
The Devil agreed, for he knew that Rasputin would give himself up for his daughter, and Rasputin was the better prize. He took Rasputin down below, and they disappeared from this world forever.
Rasputin's daughter was left alone with She-of-the-Chicken-Legged-House, who raised her like she raised Rasputin.
When Rasputin's daughter came of age, She-of-the-Chicken-Legged-House offered her a choice. She could stay in the magic forest forever and become as powerful as her grandmother, or she could go see the world, even though she would lose her magic.
Baba Anya sat back in her rocking chair as Morgan stared, wide eyed. It was a new story for Morgan, one that Anya hadn't told in many, many years. She'd only heard it when she was a young girl, and she made up much of the story for Morgan.
Morgan's face scrunched up again in confusion when she realized the story didn't really have an ending. "What did Rasputin's daughter choose, Baba Anya?"
Anya smiled at her goddaughter, her eyes twinkling. "How do you want it to end, little one?"
"Hey, Mum? I got a weird letter in the mail! Say's I'm invited to some school for witches and wizards!"
"Interesting. I haven't had a head this interesting to sort in years," the Hat's voice said in Morgan's head.
'Hope it's not a problem,' Morgan thought at the Hat.
"Not at all. It makes the job interesting. I have been doing the same thing for a thousand years now."
Morgan laughed a little. She'd sat under the Hat for a few minutes now, longer than any other first years so far.
"Well, you have the brains for Ravenclaw, but you also have the drive to use your knowledge. How Slytherin. The bravery for Gryffindor is there as well, but you'd rather think of yourself first, then others. Obviously not a Hufflepuff. In that case, I have no choice but to put you in…"
"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat shouted out.
"Good luck in there. You'll need it," the Hat thought to her one last time as Professor Llewyn took it off her head.
Morgan walked over to her new table, slightly nervous but brimming with excitement.
"All right you lot, you'll go through our usual initiation ceremony, and then you'll be full members of Slytherin House. I'm Taggert McTaggert, your seventh year prefect. Ophelia over there is Head Girl this year, and she's got more important things to deal with than your pathetic problems."
The seventh year prefect for Slytherin was big and bulky. Morgan's first friend at Hogwarts, Evera, said that he was a beater for the Quidditch team. Morgan just nodded, as if she had any idea what Quidditch was.
"'Phelia, can you bring over the box?"
"Fine," the Head Girl said, pulling out a box.
"You'll each pull out a stone snake from this box. The color of the gem it holds in its mouth is the same color as the stone over your room. If you freak out, you're not a real Slytherin."
She held out the box to a boy at the start of the line of first-years. He reached inside and shrieked like a little girl.
"Oh, did we mention that they're enchanted snakes?"
Morgan glanced at Evera, who glanced back at her. The box came around to the two of them, and they both reached in at the same time.
Their snakes matched, and Morgan grinned. They held onto their snakes until Ophelia brought the box back around.
"Nice to know there are two first-years who aren't complete pansies," Ophelia said as she passed the two of them, smirking.
"What do you mean you're a Mudblood, Morgan!" Evera shouted. It was Halloween. Morgan had pretended that she knew what she was doing this far, and her grades said the same thing.
"Mudblood?"
"Muggleborn! You didn't tell me!"
Morgan shrugged. "I didn't think it was that important. My Baba says that it's not who your parents are, but what you with yourself do that's important."
"Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me, Morgan?" Evera said in disbelief.
"Oi, you two, shut your mouths!" Taggert yelled at them from across the common room. "I can hear you screeching like banshees."
"Morgan's a Muggleborn!" Evera yelled back.
The entire common room stopped and stared at Morgan.
"Um… oops?"
"Are you sure you wish to change Houses, Miss Fair?" Professor Llewyn asked her once again. "I'll only allow you to change Houses once."
Professor Vex laughed. "I'd like to keep her, because she's the best hexer I've seen among the firsties. Did you see what she landed McTaggert in the hospital wing with?"
The deputy headmistress glared at the head of Slytherin house. "That's what I want to prevent, Gallus. Now, Morgan-"
"I'm sure," Morgan said.
"Perhaps Hufflepuff will accept you more."
"Traitor."
"You didn't exactly make Slytherin welcoming for me."
"Shove it, Fair."
"Up yours, Nott."
"Hey, Mum, can you tell me who my dad is?"
"Maybe next year, Morgan."
"That's what you always say."
"That is one ugly cat," Evera drawled, looking down at the stray that had somehow wandered into Hogwarts.
Morgan bent down to pick up the black cat. "He's not that bad."
The cat was missing an ear and an eye, and the rest of his body was covered in scars from fights. He was clearly thin and probably had fleas.
"Of course a Mudblood like you would like a mangy mutt like that, Fair."
"The term 'mutt' is for dogs like you, Nott." She walked away, the cat in her arms. Pausing for a moment, she turned around.
"And his name is Macbeth."
"Shove it, Fair," Evera snapped back.
"Up yours, Nott," Morgan snarled in reply.
"Is that kid in a wheelchair?"
"He better not get sorted into Slytherin. He'll be eaten alive."
"Does that wheelchair have legs?"
"I think those are paws…"
"SLYTHERIN!"
"What's a pathetic wimp like you doing out here for Quidditch tryouts, MacLeod?"
"Ah play Keeper. Kellis is gone. Why not?"
"I don't want a guy who's scared of owls on the team."
"An' Ah daenae care, Juno."
"You better not fuck this game up, MacLeod."
"Ah think yer lousy Chaser skills'll do us in."
"Fuck off MacLeod. You cost us the game."
"They didnae bloody score! The bloody Quaffle ne'er passed me!"
"You distracted Young when the Snitch was right under his nose!"
"Not mah fault tha' yeh didnae score a point! Gettin' points is yer job!"
"It's still your fault, you owl-phobic freak!"
"Your OWLS came back, Morgan. O's in Defense, Charms, and Transfiguration. EE's in Herbology, Potions, and Muggle Studies. T in Divination. Mind explaining to your Muggle mum what these grades mean?"
"Means I should probably go with the Auror route once I graduate. And Trelawney is a horrible teacher."
"Naeh bad grades, Tam, boot yeh didnae get a good one in Defense."
"Ah kno, Logan. I waern't plannin' on bein' an Auror."
"Yeah, boot Da'll nevar let yeh help 'im."
"Nae sure if Ah care any more, Logan," Tamris MacLeod said, absentmindedly petting his dog on the head.
His older brother grabbed his shirt and yanked him close. "Yeah, yeh care, Tamris. Yeh better care, laddie. Or Da'll hear from me."
"The professors have reviewed your evaluations, Alice. You'll be allowed-"
"Mickey, please."
"Mickey. You'll be allowed to take NEWT level Charms, Potions, and Herbology. You'll have to remain in second year levels for everything else."
"I believe that's suitable for my range of talents, Headmaster. If you'll excuse me, Professor Nikolayevich asked for my assistance in setting up for his classes next year."
"You can call him your father when you're not around other students, Alice."
The boy in the wheelchair stared at the Headmaster. "Fathers raise children, Professor Carmichael. He sired me, nothing more."
"Reynard, how soon can we start with the plans? I'm growing impatient here."
The blond man rolled his eyes. "I've told you, sir. They'll start when they start, which is soon enough."
"I hate waiting."
"That's the Gryffindor inside you, sir."
"Fuck Hogwarts Houses. They're a stupid, outdated system of sorting one type of puke from other types of pukes."
"Sir, Hogwarts is a well-respected establishment. You and I both received excellent educations there, as did most of our men." The blond clenched his jaw to prevent himself from rolling his eyes once again.
"I still hate the system."
"Well, that's why we're working to change it."
The black-haired man sighed. "I suppose you're right, Reynard."
The blond looked down at his papers for a moment. "If it makes you feel better, we have influences high up in every Ministry department, and we even have the Senior Undersecretary working for us willingly."
"Hogwarts is the true goal. Remember that, Reynard."
"Well, it should please you then that I'm now the Charms professor there until Flitwick returns from his… 'sabbatical.'"
The black-haired man grinned. "That pleases me greatly, Reynard."