Author's Note: Thank you everyone who liked and commented on my story! It means so much and I'm happy people like the idea! As always though, I own nothing, JK Rowling owns it all as do the creators of Merlin. On with chapter 2!
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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Hundred 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 millennia. 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 the 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 every 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 Jokeshop 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 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 of 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 down, 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.