Once upon a time, before the world was conscious of itself, Death had created for itself a child of convenience and consequence. Her name was Morgana and whoever became a Master of Death would become hers, as were the terms of her existence. Having conscious thought worthy of a Ravenclaw she did not, could not accept this so when Merlin, who had ulterior designs on her, came to be a Master she refused to do his bidding. This resulted in chaos, chaos that would last on the battlefields for many years. Desiring a child, but knowing that it would fall into Merlin's hand, she cast a spell. Her son was born a Morgan Squib and he was free from Death's curse. When Merlin and Death found out they were furious, but decided not to kill her son. They had better plans. All subsequent children would be born male and without magic until the conditions for another Master arose. That girl, the indicator that the time was ripe, would endure the sufferings they wished on Morgana. She would serve the Master without any ability to resist. Morgana was devastated when she found out and, after Merlin's death, she made sure to scatter the Hallows once again and hoped that fate would never bring them together again. Little did all of them know though, the dark magic had made an impact on the intricacies of the line's genes. Genetic material would jump around behaving atypically causing mayhem to the girl's future chances.

Centuries ago scholars who dedicated their lives to the study theorised that such a child would naturally be a monster. Her dark magic would be all consuming, destroying even her own mother. The scholars all agreed to make it difficult for such a conception to happen. They assisted with entrenching and hiding the Morgan sons away from the Magical World and kept their secret documents far up North where no one would find them. They let the curse become a rumour, which they allowed to fall into obscurity and soon an incomprehensible falsehood of the truth. To help keep their secret a secret, they formed the Guild of Morgan accepting only the best secret keepers in the world to oversee the Morgan Squib line. Centuries later an intelligent pureblood would gain entry to the Guild. His daughter would marry into the influential and shady Andor family, which was also good at keeping secrets. Of all her children Anna stood out for embodying her family's motto of excellence. Anna, who was obsessed with the notion, had a certain penchant for research. It was at her grandfather's place where she discovered a secret she was desperate to know. Her research took her around the globe and eventually Oxford University in London where she met Stephen Morgan. By that time her obsession had morphed and grown; all caution was thrown to the wind and she eloped with him thinking that she could prove the scholars wrong. This did not work.

On a dark and devastatingly cold evening Stephen Morgan only heard one sound above the storm that raged outside: his wife, Anna's yells as she fought through child labour in the maternity ward of St Bartholomew's Hospital. Nurses and doctors rushed around frantic about the severe condition of their patient whose contractions were speeding up in time with her heart rate. Stephen was still trying to accept that it was too late to operate, that it would be fatal to both mother and child. He didn't give a damn about the child, that monstrous abomination sucking the life out of his perfect wife; rather he wished that anything could be done to save his dying wife even if it meant aborting their daughter. Through her agony Anna had reached out to Stephen and gained his attention her sweat drenched red face having an expression of utmost desperation. His eyes widened in joy hopeful that she would finally agree with him on the child.

"Stephen?" she had managed to pant out.

"Yes, love," he replied eagerly.

"I think it's true, the Morgan Squib line curse, and I don't have enough time," her face crumpled in pain. "My sister, contact her, she will know what to do when the time comes."

"It's all right, love, everything will be fine," he tried to reassure her.

"No, Stephen," she looked around madly. "I made a mistake. If this ever gets out, if anyone knows who she really is-"

"Anna, look at me," her eyes met his and they softened.

"Oh, Stephen, my amazing and incredible Stephen," her other hand reached out and cupped his face. "I love you."

It was in his stupefied state of wonder and horror that he felt it, a slight tick somewhere in his head as if a neuron had misfired. His wife's lovely face scrunched up and doctors and nurses rushed about. A towel was collected. A snip was registered before his wife's final scream of agony was silenced. His child was gently placed in his arms and a nurse led him away while Anna Morgan's body was wheeled to the morgue. The paperwork regarding her death and the birth of their monstrous child was completed in a hazy daze by Stephen, who held his child as her dark brown eyes blinked in amazement almost as if it knew what was happening. On February the thirteenth, nineteen seventy-nine Anna Morgan (nee Andor) was murdered by the birth of her daughter, Stella Ari Morgan. Far away in an abstract land Death grinned as he let Anna move on, revenge on his obstinate daughter would be sweet.