Title: A Pair Of Shadows
Rating: T
Pairing: Sirius/Morgana.
Setting: Post Series 4 for Merlin, G.O.F for Harry Potter. I cannot stress how AU this will be.
Summary: Resurrected and on the run, Morgana is hidden by Aithusa where no-one will find her… in a cave in the Scottish highlands 1500 years in the future. A cave already shared by another fugitive, a fugitive named Sirius Black…
21st December: Three Days before Sirius, Remus and Harry come to Grimmauld Place …
Malfoy Manor was as large and glittering as Morgana had expected. Candlelight made the diamond paned windows shimmer and the gilded mirrors glow, throwing dancing shadows on every rich tapestried wall. A large fire roared beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece, catching the sparkle of the crystal chandelier above the guests, like a soul shattered into a hundred thousand glistening pieces.
Camelot Castle had always been cold, even in the long melting days of summer and no amount of throws and tapestries had kept the chill from the stones. Malfoy Manor, however, was warm and welcoming and sumptuously decorated, full of family portraits of pale, beautiful creatures in elegant clothing and expensive jewels.
There'd been drinks in the drawing room and dancing in the ballroom, but Morgana had found herself drawn to the library, an expanse of beautiful books lining the shelves from floor to ceiling, a golden handrail and ladder leaning against the far wall. She'd trailed her fingers reverently over the spines, feeling the crackle of power beneath the bindings and the call of dark magic from the crisp pages within.
"I see you also worship at the shrine of knowledge," said a low, smooth voice behind her.
"Well you know what they say: knowledge is power," Morgana re-joined, turning with a smile and an upraised eyebrow, "and power is everything." She held out the hand that wasn't holding her cocktail glass. "I don't believe we've been introduced. Ana Grey."
"Severus Snape," he replied and kissed the back of her knuckles softly in the greeting of the Old Way. "How are you acquainted with the Malfoys?"
"On my first trip to Diagon Ally I had the unfortunate experience of being pickpocketed, but the good fortune to bump into Lucius after it had happened. He was kind enough to offer his assistance. And yourself?"
"I've been a friend of the family for years- Lucius and I were boys together at Hogwarts," Severus replied. "I teach his son, Draco, there now."
"You're a teacher?"
"Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House," he drawled. "I teach the students the subtle science and exact art of potion making, the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses. Though most of my time," he sighed, "is spent preventing the cretinous hoards from poisoning each other and burning down the school."
"It sounds a very interesting place to work," Morgana laughed quietly. "I myself was tutored at home and never experienced a school full of wizards and witches, though I have met my fair share of cretins."
"Well, if you should ever wish to visit whilst the school is still standing, you would be most welcome," he offered. "I know my colleague Professor Flitwick would be very interested in your enchantment work." He motioned to the large, sleeping, silver dragon clip keeping the elegant knot at the nape of Morgana's neck tightly in place. "An exquisite charm."
As Morgana inclined her head in thanks the dragon cracked an eye open, yawned and then rested it's gleaming, silver-scaled head back onto it's claws.
"Ah, Severus! Ana! There you are, I wondered where you were hiding," drawled Lucius, strolling into the library. "Ana, my wife is looking for you- she wants to introduce you to Calanthe Zabini and some of the other ladies I believe."
"Then if you will excuse me, gentlemen," Morgana curtsied gracefully before sweeping from the room, closing the doors behind her. As soon as the hem of her zaffre blue dress crossed the threshold she murmured a Notice-me-not charm and pressed herself against the library doors.
Snape's voice came low but clear through the wood. "You've been making some interesting friends."
"What do you make of her?"
"Old money. Old family. Pureblood. Judging by the strength and delicacy of the enchantment on her jewellery she's a powerful spell caster. Where did you find her?"
"Knockturn Alley, threatening to cut off Mundungus Fletcher's fingers."
There was the sound of low laughter from inside the room. "I like her better and better."
"You've not heard the best of it yet though, my friend," said Lucius. "What intrigues me the most is that upon our entry in Gringotts the goblins bowed to her."
There was a delicate but pregnant pause and when Snape spoke next even he could barely mask the surprise in his voice.
"How very interesting. Of course, I assume you've looked into her background?"
"She doesn't have one. There's simply no mention of her or her family anywhere. No history, no ancestors, no mention in Xavier's Pureblood Peerage. Nothing. It's as though the Greys have simply never existed."
"A mystery."
"An enigma."
"Be careful with Grey then," said Snape seriously. "You don't know what you might be getting yourself mixed up in. She's not a fool. Be careful it is not you who ends up on the wrong end of this."
"Why Severus, that almost sounds like concern."
"I simply urge caution. We've both experienced one too many snakes in the grass."
Lucius laughed darkly. "Rather a good thing we're both Slytherins then, my friend."
As the voices grew louder, Morgana beat a hasty retreat from the door, ducking down the nearest corridor and hurrying towards the sounds of the party. Slowing her footsteps she smoothed her dress and checked her hair, brushing a few wayward strands back. Aithusa nipped her fingers and she stroked the head of the little silver dragon comfortingly.
She would have to tread very carefully with her new found allies.
Taking a deep breath she fixed her smile and entered the sitting room and was almost immediately greeted by Narcissa Malfoy.
"Ana! Lucius found you then, we'd been wondering where you'd disappeared off to. We were becoming quite worried. And look, your glass is empty, that will never do."
Replacing her cocktail glass with another steaming with absinthe green smoke, Narcissa linked her arm through Morgana's elbow and gently but forcefully guided her further into the room.
"Come and say hello to my friends, they've been dying to meet you."
They weaved their way through the dozens of elegantly dressed guests to the other side of the room noting the Minister for Magic and several other ministry officials were here (whose faces she recognised from The Daily Prophet) and filed the information away for later use.
They came to stand beside a group of elegantly dressed women arranged on a loose circle of chairs infront of the fireplace. "Ladies, I'd like to introduce you to Ana Grey, who's recently come to stay in England. Ana, these are my friends." Narcissa gestured to a short, curvy woman with wispy dark curls framing her face. "Dorinne Crabbe."
Dorinne smiled widely, making her eyes almost disappear into the soft folds of her face. "How do you do?"
The woman beside her with severe, straight dark hair nodded tightly. "Julianne Goyle."
"Hyperia Greengrass," said a tall woman with thick blonde hair that fell to the small of her back. She gave her a cool smile. "Delighted to meet you, I'm sure."
"And finally," said Narcissa, turning to a very beautiful woman who was reclining on a chaise longue, her cigarette dangling lazily from her left land. "Calanthe Zabini, my oldest and most disreputable friend."
"She means I'm the fun one," Calanthe drawled and took a drag from the cigarette before blowing out a perfect smoke ring. "Now, darling Ana, if you don't have anything nice to say come and sit by me," she invited and patted the space on the chaise longue beside her. "I'm just longing to hear all the juicy gossip from the continent."
As Morgana sat down, Dorinne sighed and rubbed her hands ruefully across her own face. "Cissa, you never said how beautiful Ana was. Look at those cheekbones. You could cut a man's heart in two on them."
"Don't go giving Calanthe ideas," mused Hyperia. "She's quite creative enough as she is."
"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," Calanthe replied loftily, though the smirk that played around her lovely mouth said otherwise.
"Our Calanthe is a woman crossed in love…cursed," Dorinne intoned dramatically. "Each of her husbands has tragically died less than a year into their marriage."
Morgana's eyes widened. "How awful."
"Awfully convenient, you mean," Hyperia suggested, voice as sweet as spun sugar. "What number husband was the last one? Your 7th? Some sort of terrible Floo accident wasn't it?"
"Careful, darling, you're beginning to sound like that dreadful Skeeter woman," Calanthe smirked around her cigarette. "Have you ever been married, Ana? No? You don't know what you're missing. Such delicious fun. Of course it always helps if they're rich and attractive-"
"And geriatric," Hyperia suggested innocently. "Or extremely accident prone. Didn't number four cut off his own head? Or was that the second one? I was always get him mixed up with the one who exploded."
"So you don't have any children then, Ana?" Dorinne cut in nervously, before spells were exchanged between the two witches. "I've a picture of my boy in here somewhere," she mumbled, rifling through her handbag. "Oh! Here it is- look," and she handed over a photograph of a group of students in their black Hogwarts' robes, playing some sort of game in a long, low room decorated in various shades of green and silver. "That's Vincent," Dorinne said pointing at a large boy with a thick neck and flat nose, hunched in a high sided chair with his back to the fire. "Gregory, Daphne and Astoria, Draco and that's Blaise, Calanthe's son." She tapped at a tall boy with high cheekbones and pursed lips, who sat contemplating the board in front of him, chin cupped in his hands. "They're all at Hogwarts. Slytherin House," Dorinne beamed, tucking the photo back into her purse. "We're all very proud."
"Lucius tells me you were home tutored?" said Narcissa, intrigued.
"Yes- my father was very protective," Morgana agreed. "Didn't want me mixing with the wrong kind."
"Muggleborns?"
"Don't- you'll make me sick." Julianne, who up to that point had been silent, put her hand against her mouth. "Don't even say the word. I feel ill just thinking about those blood traitors."
Dorinne smiled sympathetically at Morgana. "You must have been lonely though?"
"No- I had good friends, an older sister and a younger brother, Arthur, who was loud enough for three people. He was always getting us into trouble and… well. I didn't feel alone."
"Well, now you're amongst the best kind of people here," said Calanthe and blew out a perfect smoke ring, smiling. Her black polished nails glinted in the candlelight. "We take care of our own."
Suddenly the dinner gong sounded.
"Come, I'll show you all where you're sitting," said Narcissa and led her friends and the other guests into the dining room, a large oval room with a high ceiling and a polished glass table in the centre big enough to seat three dozen people comfortably.
Morgana was seated near the centre, with Dorinne to her right and Calanthe opposite. She sat down and turned to the man on her left.
"Minister," she smiled and tipped her chin graciously, "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of being introduced. An honour."
The man beamed, red dusting his cheeks. "The pleasure is all mine, my dear lady. Cornelius Fudge, how do you do?"
"Ana Grey, all the better for finally meeting you in person. I have so wanted to speak to you." She smiled, red lips shining in the candlelight. "I am sure you and I shall become very, very good friends…"
Christmas Eve…
Morgana.
Sirius had his wand to her throat. Back against the wall, the wand tilting her head back to expose her soft white skin, she could only press her hands against his chest helplessly as he mouthed words in her ear.
Morgana. Can you hear me?
The wand slowly trailed from the hollow of her throat to the swell of her breasts, and his face was so close now that his breath mingled with hers. Her hands moved up, over his heart as she conjured deadly magic in her fingers… and yet her fingers kept moving up, up to fist in his thick dark hair and pull him closer. His nose brushed hers, her mouth scant moments from his own.
Morgana. You must find us.
But she would not move first. She would not give in.
He looked at her and grinned. "Your move, love."
Come home. We need to talk.
Morgana frowned as Sirius flickered before her eyes and faded, replaced with another dark haired man whose magic crackled against her own. She flinched backwards as the walls disappeared and suddenly she was standing on wind lashed clifftops, waves thrashing against the rocks at its base. She stumbled back towards the edge, away from the boy wizard who had once been her friend.
"Merlin."
Find Tintagel, Morgana. We're waiting for you.
She shook her head and turned, but there was nowhere to go- only the sea and the emptiness of the fall down towards it. Merlin was reaching for her, even as her foot slipped and the ground and sky and everything fell away and darkness covered her vision, til only Merlin's eyes remained, fixed on hers as she fell and the whole world crumbled.
Please.
Someone slammed a door shut downstairs and Morgana bolted up from her bed where she'd fallen asleep, a book open in her lap on top of the covers. Heart racing, she swallowed down her fear and rubbed her temples to clear the dream away. It had only been a dream. Only a dream. Yet she knew the taste and smell of visions and she could not ignore the cling of sea-spray that lingered in the room. Tintagel. What new adventure lurked for her there?
Kreacher popped into existence by the side of her bed, wringing his hands anxiously. "Lady Fey, there is someone here! Lady Fey must hide!" he hissed before disappearing again, drawn irresistibly by the call of his name.
From one nightmare to another, she thought drolly and pushed her ponderings firmly away. Completely awake now she pushed herself upright, swung her legs out of the bed and crept to the door, opening it silently.
From her position at the end of the bed, her dragon yawned and stretched and huffed a little impatiently. 'Morgana, where are you going? We should be hiding.'
"To see who my uninvited guests are," she hissed back.
'Morgana!'
"I am not climbing into a wardrobe like a five year old child hiding from the nursemaid," Morgana scowled. "Mrs Black said no-one would ever come here, they didn't set off my wards and I want to know why. Now are you coming or are you going to hide under the bed?"
Aithusa sighed but followed reluctantly as Morgana tiptoed silently down the stairs.
As they got closer the voices from downstairs grew louder, low and male and there were at least three of them, though Morgana wasn't close enough to be able to identify them.
Then Mrs Black woke up and started screaming.
Morgana rolled her eyes, stuffed her hands over her ears and made for the nearest room, finding herself in the library where she'd eaten her dinner only hours earlier. The room was beginning to cool as the fire had gone out and with a whispered word the flames flared back to life. She touched her empty plate and glass still sat beside a rumpled rug; clearly Kreacher hadn't got round to tidying up in here yet.
There were footsteps on the stair and she exchanged a look with Aithusa who wordlessly shrank herself and flapped tiny wings into the centre of the fire, letting out a contented purr as she settled into the centre of the flaming wood. Morgana perched in one of the two high backed chairs facing the fire and tucked her legs up underneath her as the library door swung open.
She held her breath, fingers itching with magic, skin tingling with anticipation….
"Who's there?" said a boy's voice; a voice that was young but filled with the promise of maturity and trembling ever so slightly. She heard him creep closer to her chair and wondered at his daring. "You can come out. I won't hurt you. I'm Harry."
Morgana rolled her eyes and felt faintly patronised. 'Enough of this,' she thought and suddenly appeared in front of him.
The boy took a step back even as he frowned at her. His eyes took in her simple white nightgown, her bare feet, and she felt a faint smile tug at her lips at his unabashed curiosity. He was the Boy Who Lived, recognising him from the pictures she'd seen of him in The Daily Prophet, but clearly none of his previous scrapes had taught him a modicum of caution.
"Hello boy," she said quietly, and tilted her head curiously to stare back at him. "Why aren't you afraid?"
"I've met a lot of ghosts," he replied boldly. "They appear all the time at Hogwarts."
Her mouth opened into a round little 'O' of surprise. "You think…I…" Morgana paused and re-evaluated her situation. Suddenly his lack of fear made more sense. Ghosts couldn't harm. Still, the fact he thought her a ghost and not anything more malevolent still pointed to a dangerous naivety about the world and the creatures in it. Hogwarts. What were they teaching those children?
"Yes, of course, you look like a boy used to meeting all sorts of strange things. Brave Harry Potter. I knew a boy just like you, a long time ago…and what are you doing in my house, Harry?" she asked with the slightest hint of accusation.
"My godfather used to live here," he explained cautiously, unsure if that would upset her. "I wanted to see what it was like."
"Curiosity and cats," Morgana murmured to herself. He wasn't the Boy Who Lived, just The Boy Who Wasn't Dead Yet.
"Sorry?"
A man's voice called from downstairs. "Harry?"
Sirius. She grinned and wordlessly disapparated back to her bedroom. Muttering spells, her belongings began to shrink and fly into a suitcase she threw open on the bed, as she watched from the window of her bedroom as Harry, Sirius and a man she didn't recognise finally left the house.
'Morgana, we need to go,' Aithusa said, appearing round the doorway.
"I'm packing, I'll be two minutes," she replied absently, watching as the trio stopped abruptly on the street, Sirius hugging Harry tightly before making his way angrily back to the house.
The front door slammed open again.
Aithusa sighed at the look of quiet glee on Morgana's face and rolled her eyes. 'You're meant to be packing, not flirting.'
"I'll be quick," Morgana smiled and promptly vanished. Apparating behind the kitchen door she watched through a crack in the wood as Sirius inched his way down the corridor, wand brandished before him.
"We both know you're here. Show yourself, witch."
She smiled to herself and apparated behind him. With a wave of her hands, before Sirius could even turn or blink suddenly he was frozen to the spot, muscles straining to move against the immobilisation spell.
Morgana wandered round from behind him and tutted. "Darling, that was too easy; hardly any fun at all. You really must try harder," she murmured, coming to stand toe to toe with him. She studied his face as Sirius glared at her. "I thought you were smarter than that, but then I suppose Azkaban addled whatever brains you might have had. Shame. Still, at least you've still got your looks." She touched his face, her hand tracing the curve of his jaw. "Oh, don't give me that scowl. I won this round fair and square. You need to learn to lose gracefully." She smirked. "Trust me; you'll be doing it a lot."
There was a sudden sound at the front door as Remus began to make his way in.
"Looks like our time is up." She kissed his cheek and smiled at the glower he sent her. "Goodbye, Sirius Black. Until next time."
Disapparating back upstairs into her bedroom, she closed the suitcase and stepped towards the fireplace. Aithusa wrapped her tail around herself and witch and dragon shared a look.
'Where are we going?'
"Somewhere I saw in a dream once."
'Morgana?'
The dark haired witch smiled reassuringly and picked her dragon up, holding her to her chest. "Come."
And then she stepped into the fireplace and vanished.
The hotel in Tintagel was discreetly tucked away at the edge of the town, modest and clean and most importantly muggle run.
A few unobtrusive memory spells and a dash of unethical magic later, Morgana had the largest room in the inn for free and the freedom to come and go as she pleased without awkward questions or prying eyes. The manager and his wife took the occasional appearance of an owl at breakfast in their stride and another generous dose of magic silenced any other objecting guests.
She scanned the morning's correspondence, a letter from Narcissa; an amusing postcard from Calanthe on her Christmas holiday; a warm note from Fudge offering to take her on a personal tour of the Ministry when she returned from her visit to her family. Her mouth curved into a satisfied grin- her connections were brewing quite nicely. Bribing the owl with coffee and thickly sliced bacon, she took her time composing her replies and then spread out the map of Tintagel on the breakfast table as Aithusa curled round her shoulders.
"Camelot could be anywhere on here," the dragon mused, huffing soft warm breaths against Morgana's neck. "Tintagel Castle itself seems a good place to start though, and it would make sense to hide a magical castle within the ruins of a muggle one. After all, Hogwarts has a similar set of constructs keeping its true purpose hidden from prying eyes."
Morgana folded the map and tucked it away again into a pocket of her dress as the manager came over to refill her coffee pot. His eyes slid carefully away from the talking dragon and the owl eating breakfast at the table, up to Morgana's face. His pupils were glazed but when Morgana mentioned Tintagel to him they sparked into awareness once more.
"I'm afraid the castle's closed if that's what you've come for," he offered jovially, ignoring the owl dunking its beak into a mug of hot coffee. "Too dangerous to open after October, weather's something awful this time of year, makes the rocks too slippy to climb up."
"So there won't be anyone around then? No mu- other visitors?"
The manager nodded and refilled the mug the owl had drained.
"Perfect."
An hour later, Morgana found herself scrambling up the muddy cliff paths towards the castle, sticking charms on her boots, head down low against the bracing wind that blasted across the headland. An eroded neck of land divided the island from the mainland, with the ruins of the castle lying on both sides of the chasm, centuries of erosion taking many parts of the castle with it. It looked desolate and eerie in the bleak winter weather, empty of people and purpose and magic.
Aithusa wrapped herself more tightly around Morgana's wrist as the witch spread her hands out along the lower courtyard wall, searching for any hint of magic or mystery. Merlin was long dead, along with everyone else she'd ever known so she was unsure who, or what, exactly she was looking for. Merlin in the dream had spoken of needing to talk to her but that made little sense… unless his ghost now roamed Tintagel. Morgana shivered at her creeping sense of unease. She had no wish to bump into anyone she'd known in this life or her past.
Tracing her way along the lower courtyard, she searched with her senses for any hint of magic, skimming the stone walls with her fingers as she walked round the ruins. Finding nothing, she made her way to the curtain wall on top of the crag, senses still stretched, straining for the slightest measurement of magic.
There.
Senses snagging on a tiny crack in one of the walls, she pressed her fingers against the fissure and felt an answering warmth bloom under her fingertips. The crack began to widen, stone crumbling away as the wall split open and a series of spiralling steps appeared, running down into the cliff itself, continuing into a large cavern lit by crystals reflecting the winter daylight.
Taking a breath, Morgana cautiously descended into the cave, hand braced against the wall to steady herself in the dim light. Aithusa uncurled herself from Morgana's wrist to soar in steady spirals down to the ground, wings outstretched, little bursts of flame leaving her snout and lighting up the dark, refracting in the white crystals that sprouted from the walls.
It was impossible to tell how long it took to reach the bottom but once her feet touched the floor Morgana closed her eyes against a wave of dizziness. She sank down onto her knees, suddenly short of breath, gasping raggedly as Aithusa circled her anxiously.
'Morgana? Are you well?'
The witch shook her head, panting as she felt the air around her ripple, pressing tight against her skin, hot, clammy and suffocating. Her lungs felt too tight in her chest, she needed to breathe, she needed to-
All at once the bands around her chest loosened. Morgana sucked in a lungful of cold air gratefully, calming her racing heart and trying to centre herself again as the magic protecting the cave faded away. Aithusa gently butted her head against Morgana's and the witch sat back and opened her eyes.
Merlin smiled at her. "Hello, Morgana."
Instinctively, she lashed out, sending a bolt of magic at his heart.
The wizard calmly raised his hands in defence, forming a clear spherical shield in front of him, Morgana's spell bouncing harmlessly away. "Morgana, I'm not going to hurt you."
She snorted in disbelief and sent another shower of bolts at him, raining them down until the shield was glowing with flashes of white lightening, crackling as her magic tried to find a weakness in his.
"Peace, Morgana!" Merlin shouted from behind his shield. "Please! We must talk. I have been waiting for you for a very, very long time."
Morgana shook her head, and blinked furiously at the unwelcome tears that welled. "Our time for talking passed a long time ago, Merlin, when you tried to kill me. Is that why you brought me here? To finish the job?"
"No, Morgana!" he called and the desperation in his voice plucked a tiny chord in her conscience, in the part of her that still remembered a time when she had named him friend. "No. I've had a long time to think over my life, our lives… our actions in Camelot. A lot of time to come to the realisation I wasn't always right. I made so many mistakes but you were one of the worst. I never meant to hurt you."
It felt like a physical blow and Morgana sucked in a shaky breath, hands dropping away, her magic fading as she shook her head incredulously. "You're apologising- after what you did? After what I did?" She pulled the neck of her top down to expose the scar that bloomed like a star across her shoulder. "You think sorry fixes this?"
Merlin cautiously dissipated his shield and held out his hands pleadingly. "I'm sorry, Morgana. Truly."
She shook her head and laughed brokenly. "You don't get to apologise and think everything's ok again. That's not how this works. That's not who we are. Who we were." She wiped angrily at her eyes. "Why are we here? Am I dead? I don't understand."
Merlin took a step towards her, but when Morgana flinched back he rocked on his heels and remained where he was. "You're not dead, Morgana. Neither of us are." He smiled grimly. "I'm not sure either of us can really die. But I told you I'd been waiting. Centuries, here, in Avalon."
"This is Avalon?" Morgana spat sceptically. "A cave under a Cornish castle?"
Merlin shook his head. "No, this is merely one of the gateways to it- a sort of backdoor. But it was the only place I could contact you from." He gestured to the crystals on the walls. "Telepathy was never my strong point, but the crystals amplify thoughts and allowed me to reach you when you slept." He grimaced. "The only problem was I had to wait fifteen hundred years for you to reappear."
"Oh, poor Merlin," Morgana snapped. "Trapped in Avalon for such a long time all by himself. Were you lonely, Merlin? Did you feel isolated? Afraid? Alone? Because that's how I felt in Camelot all the time! You knew what was happening to me; you could have helped me." She wrapped her arms around herself protectively and glared at him. "Instead you abandoned me, just like everyone else."
"I know and it was wrong. I should have been braver, I should have protected you, but I was a coward and I was selfish. I failed you." Merlin ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I failed everyone."
Morgana pursed her lips and leaned back against the wall as Aithusa watched them both warily. "What happened after I left?"
"War. Everyone took sides and in the end we all lost. Camelot fell, the kingdom crumbled and Arthur…Arthur was mortally wounded." Merlin took a breath. "By Mordred."
Morgana closed her eyes and sighed. "But he was just a boy. They were both just boys."
"I sent Arthur to Avalon," Merlin swallowed, "his wounds were great but he has a greater destiny yet to fulfil. He sleeps now in Avalon and will only wake when the kingdom needs him."
"And Mordred?"
"I was too late. He was already dead by the time I got there. I'm sorry."
Morgana shot him a sceptical glance and folded her arms. "I know. You're always sorry. But I don't believe you've been watching over Arthur for fifteen hundred years, waiting for him to wake up and for the chance to apologise. Why did you really want to see me?"
"Your own destiny is almost upon you," Merlin explained. "Even now the wheels are being set in motion."
"My fate is my own, Merlin," Morgana rejoined harshly. "There's no such thing as destiny, no matter what you think."
He made as though to move closer but Aithusa's warning rumbled stayed his feet. He glanced from witch to dragon and looked imploringly at them both. "There's not much time so you must listen carefully. Beware the serpent speaker. He'll offer you the world, Morgana, but give you nothing but blood and ashes. He's going to be reborn and nothing can stop that, but you must save the boy."
"What boy, Merlin? Merlin?"
But as suddenly as he'd come the wizard had disappeared.
Morgana put her head in her hands. "This is all such a mess."
Suddenly she doubled over as a vision hit.
Night. A graveyard. A thin, pale man rising from a cauldron. His eyes gleamed red in the white pit of his face and he held out a pale, clawed hand towards her. Behind his smile his tongue was forked and he smelt of bones and dead things.
"Join me. Join me and I shall give you your heart's desire, Morgana. I know what you want."
And she took his hand as he placed a crown on her head and brought her hand to his mouth. He pressed his cold, lipless maw against her skin and kissed her hand and smiled.
"Whatever you wish."
And then he bit down on the ball of her thumb and tasted her blood.
Morgana stifled a scream as the vision left and she was wrenched back into the present.
"There was a man," she began hoarsely, as Aithusa wrapped herself round her shoulders. "Born from the inside of a cooking pot, pale as bones and thin like hunger. He had a slit for a nose and…" she swallowed. "He asked me to join him and I did. And then he bit down just here," she said, running her fingers over the smooth, unblemished skin of her right hand. "And then the vision ended." She shivered. "His magic was cruel. He used all his spells for pain and his own desires. There was nothing loving in him at all. And still…he was power and hunger and I wanted what he offered even as I wanted to run." She pressed her fingers against her throbbing temples as her vision blinked white and then returned, white spots dancing behind her eyelids. "I'm all right, it's just that was the first vision I've had in months and it was much stronger than the visions I saw when I was in Camelot."
'The sooner we are back the sooner you can rest,' Aithusa rumbled sympathetically. 'Let's go back to the hotel. A large pain tonic and some sleep and then we'll scry for the boy you're meant to save, whoever or wherever he is.'
Slowly, they climbed out of the cave and into bright streaming sunshine. Blinded, Morgana held up her hand against the light as Aithusa shrank and scrambled up into her hair. Squinting, Morgana began to pick out thick green grass, flowers swaying in the gentle summer breeze and dozens of muggle adults milling around in the castle ruins, as screaming children dressed as knights ran around waving swords in the air. There were picnic blankets and the smell of coffee and sandwiches and candyfloss. The snow, rain and mud had gone and now the castle was full of holidaying families.
Morgana frowned. "I don't understand. It was winter when we left. We've been down there no longer than an hour."
'Times moves differently in Avalon, even in the gateways,' Aithusa breathed deeply, shaking her head back and forth as if to taste the currents of air. 'I believe we have been gone…perhaps half a year.'
"Half a year?!" People were looking at her she realised. Smiling nervously she turned away and began to scramble down the castle paths. "Half a year?" she repeated more quietly. "An hour in Avalon and I've lost six months?"
Aithusa huffed. 'It's the land of the gods and the dead. Time is meaningless there.'
"Then we've already lost too much time. I need the books in Mrs Black's library." She shuddered. "That demon of a wizard needs to be stopped from rising if he hasn't already done so."
'Merlin said you couldn't stop it, remember? But you must save the boy.'
"And I say what I said to Merlin- I don't believe in destiny. We save the boy and stop the wizard."
'Do you have enough energy to disapparate?' Aithusa clung tighter to Morgana's hair. 'We need your belongings from the hotel and then we can go to Mrs Black's library and hope Sirius hasn't planted any nasty booby traps for us in that house whilst we've been away.'
"Let's see, shall we?" said Morgana and apparated….into Diagon Alley.
She stumbled against a wall and slumped down into a gap between two buildings, back propped up against the rough brick. A wave of nausea rolled over her.
"Sorry, must be more tired than I thought," she panted before rolling to the side and heaving.
'Avalon is dangerous for the living, it drains too much of your energy- rest here.' Aithusa clambered down from Morgana and scrambled off further down the alley.
Morgana leaned her head back against the coolness of the brick. She was too tired even for a notice-me-not spell, settling for pulling her cloak further over her and hoping she blended in with the alleyway walls. Hoping no-one would look down here as they passed.
Aithusa returned with a copy of The Daily Prophet between her jaws and she spread the paper out before them on Morgana's knees.
"23rd June. You were right," Morgana read through bleary eyes.
'The last TriWizard task is tomorrow, the Minister is announcing a new tax, Calanthe Zabini is possibly engaged again but nobody's sure…but there's nothing in here about the wizard you saw or even a hint that anything dangerous is going on,' Aithusa read, skimming the pages and turning them with her clawed paw. 'We still have time.' She looked over at where Morgana was now lightly dozing against the wall and nudged her with her nose.
"Hmm?" Morgana blinked herself awake. "Sorry, I'll apparate us to Grimmauld place."
'Apparate now and you're going to splice us in half,' snorted the dragon. 'We're both exhausted and need food, rest and somewhere quiet to scry. The Leaky Cauldron is next door; we can rent a room for the night and plan in the morning.'
Half asleep, Morgana nodded and within five minutes dragon and witch were ensconced in a quiet backroom in the inn, where Morgana promptly collapsed on the bed and was instantly asleep. But the visions would not stop now they had found her again.
"Join me. Join me and I shall give you your heart's desire. Morgana. I know what you want."
The snake faced man smiled coldly and kissed her fingertips, his sharp teeth pricking drops of blood from her skin.
The blood rolled down her hands, over her wrists and into the cauldron they both stood in and Morgana laughed and laughed, feeling the weight of the crown on her head.
"Whatever you wish is yours. Just do as I say and you will be a queen."
Dark clouds rolled overhead as the blood continued to flow, spilling over the cauldron and out into the graveyard.
Out into the graveyard where Harry was screaming.
And a boy, with grey eyes like a storm at sea, lay dead.