Morgana

Harry sat with Ron and Hermione in the Great Hall with the rest of the students waiting for the feast to start. It was widely rumored that Dumbledore had arranged entertainment for the night, and everyone awaited it with excitement.

Harry leaned over to Ron. "What d'you suppose it's going to be?"

Collin Creevey heard him. "It's probably a magical creature! Maybe Veela!"

"Yeah, maybe." Ron said, in an unconvincing tone of casual boredom. However, Harry noticed that his ears had turned bright red. Hermione glanced at them, sniffed reprovingly, and looked toward the head tables.

"Who is that?" she asked wonderingly.

Harry and Ron looked. A beautiful dark-haired woman had emerged from behind the heads of house. Harry's first thought was that she looked like Snow-White. Her skin was truly pale as snow, and she carried herself like a princess.

"It is a vela!" shrieked Colin.

"Don't be a prat Collin, that's not a veela," said Fred Weasley. "You'd know right away if it was."

The woman cast a glance over the hall. She seemed as though she was looking for something.

"She doesn't look very friendly, does she?" Hermione commented.

Harry would have had to agree. The woman, beautiful though she was, had a slight smirk on her face, and her narrowed eyes seemed cold.

By now, the murmurings of the students had grown to louder pitch. As they watched, Dumbledore stood and walked over to the woman.

"He looks as surprised as we are," Ron said. "Maybe she's somebody traveling through."

The Hall became hushed when Dumbledore spoke. "My Lady," he began, with a slight bow. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence here?"

The woman drew herself up. "I am Morgana, daughter of Uther Pendragon, Queen of Camelot, and the last High Priestess to the Old Religion."

Dumbledore stepped back, shock on his face. Snape and McGonagall had drawn their wands. Morgana laughed.

"Don't be foolish. Your attempts at magic are no match for the likes of me and you know it. I am the High Priestess, and Queen of Camelot."

Dumbledore motioned for them to put their wands down. They did so, bemused looks on their faces.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"The future." She said, and she smiled. "I wish to know who this sorcerer is…a man named Emrys."

Dumbledore shook his head. "The one you seek is not known by that name by many, though he is famous in our world."

Morgana frowned. "You will tell me who he is."

"I will not. He is your destiny and your doom."

"Not if I kill him."

"Oh, you won't my dear."

Morgana seemed to be swallowing back her rage. "I will not take this lightly, old man! I shall be back in three days to receive your answer. If it is not coming, your precious students will die." She cast her hands up. "Tielka Berio lacht mailoka!" Her eyes glowed yellow.

Crack! The ceiling above them which was covered in stars cracked down the middle, a long, zigzagged scar. The students screamed and began to rush out of the hall in chaos. Ron and Harry started to join them, but were stopped by Hermione. "Look!"

They looked back at Morgana, who gave one last sweeping glance and a sinister smile before turning and vanishing in the shadows again.