Chapter 7: The Wicked Witch of the Chocolate Frog Card
The door out of the hexagonal room slammed shut behind Morgana and it wouldn't budge when she tried to push it back open. No going back now. She hugged her cape closer to her as she emerged into a long, dark hallway. God, it was freezing. If this just led to an old broom cupboard or something, she was going to kill Merlin.
The strange distorted echo of her heels clicking against the stone floor made Morgana feel like someone was following her. She glanced around but she could only see a few feet in any direction in the dim torchlight.
This certainly didn't look like a school for magic. The place had a gloomy, derelict feeling about it. The stone walls were dirty and cold and there was an unidentifiable musty smell in the air. She took a right at the end of the hallway as Merlin had instructed her…and found herself in yet another hallway. And there weren't any "talking portraits" on the walls as far as she could see. At the end of this hallway she went left on a whim and to her complete surprise she found herself in…another hallway. This hallway led to a winding staircase, which led to another dark, empty hallway. It was like one of her all too frequent nightmares. She was doomed to be trapped in a maze of never ending hallways until she died. She wished she were back in her bed with its silky sheets, Gwen sweetly wishing her good night. Then she remembered the candle, and the broken window, and the shattered vase. She had to get herself under control. If there was even a chance that Merlin was right about this, she had to keep going. She owed that much to herself and to him for risking his own safety to help her. She was no fool, she knew what Uther would do to Merlin if he ever found out about this. She shivered at the thought and said a silent prayer that Merlin would be alright.
Hallway after hallway passed by as Morgana's feet grew steadily sorer in her fashionable yet impractical heels. Finally, she took a left turn and stopped dead when she found herself face to face with a strange portrait. It was of a woman with frizzy orange hair who was wearing a dress covered with black cats and owls. Morgana eyed the portrait warily as she approached but the woman didn't seem to be doing anything. It looked like a perfectly ordinary, perfectly uncommunicative portrait. Feeling extremely foolish Morgana leaned in close to it and whispered, "Hello?"
The woman's face stayed frozen in a benign smile and she said nothing. Of course she didn't, she was a painting. Morgana sighed in both disappointment and relief. She must be going mad to be talking to a painting. She turned away and looked around her in the dark corridor. Was that-? Yes, there looked to be a door just ahead of her. Maybe if she could-
"Boo!"
Morgana nearly jumped out of her skin. She whirled around and her mouth fell open in shock and terror when she saw that the portrait was no longer still. It was giggling. Loudly. The woman clutched at her stomach in mirth. "Ah, I'm sorry dear," the woman said when she finally stopped laughing. "You looked so nervous, I just couldn't help myself."
"You can talk!" Morgana shrieked. "But that's impossible. How?"
"Magic, of course," she said with a tinkling laugh. "How else?"
Morgana felt even more icy fear shooting through her veins. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. She ought to get out of there and back to Camelot before something bad happened. She had been taught since the age of ten that magic only ever led to evil after all. She couldn't recall ever hearing of someone being killed by a painting, but if a painting could talk, who knew what else it could do?
Morgana began to back away slowly. The woman in the painting put her hands on her hips and looked at Morgana sternly. "Oh come on, Morgana. Be brave! Be adventurous! Maybe you'll even learn something!"
Morgana froze in place. "How do you know my name?"
"Oh, I know many things. For example, did you know that all vampires are allergic to kneazle fur? Food for thought."
"I don't have time for this," Morgana said, growing impatient. The sooner she got away from this mad painting and the tangled mess of hallways in every direction, the better. Maybe she could even find her way back up to her room before morning came. She ignored the niggling voice in the back of her head which told her that there was no way she was still in Camelot. She had thought nothing made sense before. Now, she was even more lost, in more ways than one.
"I'm sorry, my dear girl. It's just that I don't get visitors too often, you see," the portrait said. "Now, you spoke to me for a reason, did you not?"
"Yes, I - I need your help," Morgana said, remembering why she had been trying to talk to a portrait in the first place. "I've been sent to see someone. I think his name was, um, Rumbleroar?"
The woman in the painting laughed again. "Well, I'm afraid you're on the wrong planet, dear. If you're looking for him I suggest you hop on a spaceship and head to Mars!"
"Fine, if you won't help me I'll find the way myself," Morgana said angrily. She was too tired and frightened to deal with this nonsense right now.
"Wait! Is it possible you're looking for Professor Dumbledore? He's the headmaster of this school."
"Yes!" Morgana said, feeling relieved. She thought that sounded more like what Merlin had said. "Can you tell me how to find him?"
"Of course," the woman said. She rattled off a long list of directions such as "go up the second staircase on the left but be sure to skip the fourth step" and "say 'fizzing whizbee' when you get to the ugly gargoyle" in one breath, which Morgana tried her best to remember.
"Thank you," Morgana said a bit begrudgingly when the portrait had finished.
"You're very welcome! Good luck, Morgana!" the woman said in her kind, overly enthusiastic voice. When Morgana was already halfway down the hallway she thought she heard the portrait yell, "And remember: take chances, make mistakes, and get messy!"
Morgana was not at all sure she was going the way the portrait had told her. There were many more strange portraits on the walls whose occupants whispered to each other behind their hands and pointed at her as she passed. At one point she walked by a door from which she could hear strange hissing, popping sounds and what sounded like people whispering. She hurried by as quickly and quietly as she could. She still hadn't seen another living person since she had said goodbye to Merlin. After she had been walking for about half an hour, Morgana saw a circle of bright daylight spilling into the hallway from around the corner. She began to race towards it as fast as her heels would allow her, but stopped when she heard voices. She crouched down by the wall to listen.
"-but Firenze actually isn't a bad teacher, for being a last minute replacement and all," a boy's voice was saying.
"Hmmph," replied a girl's slightly haughty voice.
"Aw, come on, Hermione! How can you judge him when you haven't even been in one of his classes?" said another boy.
"Well, it's not like he's really that different from Trelawney, is it? It sounds like he's just teaching more of the same rubbish about 'the sight' but everyone likes him because he's handsome and mysterious. You should hear the things Lavender and Pavarti say about him in the girls' bathroom. It's just ridiculous."
"And of course you would never like a teacher just based on looks," said the first boy.
"Of course not," the girl said.
The second boy faked a cough and said something under his breath that Morgana didn't quite catch.
"So, has Umbridge inspected his lessons yet?" the girl said loudly. She was obviously keen to change the subject.
"Not that I've seen. She probably doesn't want to get grass stains on her skirt," said the boy who had just coughed.
"More like she doesn't want to get that close to a dangerous half-breed," said the other boy quietly.
"You may very well be right," the girl said, a frown evident in her voice.
"What's up, Hermione?"
"Oh, I'm just worried about Hagrid, is all. I really hope the old toad's forgotten about him. He doesn't seem well enough to defend himself against her right now. Have you two noticed that he always seems to have fresh cuts and bruises?"
"Yeah, I have," said one of the boys, sounding concerned. "And he won't tell me how he's getting them."
"I wonder what he's hiding," said the other boy.
Morgana wasn't sure what they were talking about, but it did sound like this might be a school. A school for children, by the sounds of it. But should she talk to them? Even if they were children, it might be dangerous for her to approach a group of potential sorcerers unannounced.
There was a few seconds of pensive silence and then the girl gasped softly. "We're going to be late for Potions!"
"Blimey, you're right!"
Morgana heard rapid footsteps coming in her direction. She turned around frantically to look for a place to hide, and ran right into, and then through, a pale white, floating spectre. She screamed so loudly that she could hear her voice echoing all the way down the hallway for several seconds after she finally stopped.
"Pardon me, my lady!" said a startled yet courteous voice. "Are you alright?"
Morgana looked up at the ghost who had just spoken to her and gaped at him in horror. He was wearing a tall, plumed hat, fine robes, and he had what looked like a very ugly, very deep scar going almost all the way around his neck. He radiated a cold which seemed to sink into her bones. She pressed herself against the wall and sank to the ground to try to get away from him. "I-I'm f-fine," she stammered unconvincingly. She hugged her knees tightly to her chest.
"Who's there?" said a black-haired teenager wearing black robes and glasses as he rounded the corner at a run, brandishing a stick in front of him. A girl with bushy brown hair and a boy with bright red hair and freckles followed closely behind him.
"Hello, Mr. Potter," said the ghost politely. "I'm afraid I may have given this woman a bit of a fright. I think she may be in need of a pepper-up potion if one of you would be willing to escort her to Madame Pomfrey."
"I can show her the way," said the black-haired boy. He held a hand out for Morgana, who took it gratefully and staggered to her feet.
"But Harry, what about Potions?" the girl with bushy hair said.
"Don't worry about it, mate," said the red-haired boy. "We'll cover for you with Snape."
"Thanks, Ron," said the boy who must have been called Harry. "You two had better hurry if you don't want to be late."
"See you later," said Ron. He and the girl with the bushy hair rushed off in the direction Morgana had come from.
"I am so sorry if I frightened you, my lady," said the ghost. "Please forgive me." He gave a deep bow, and Morgana drew in a sharp breath as the ghost's head nearly tipped off his neck as he did so. He straightened up as if nothing had happened and glided away serenely.
"Sorry about him," Harry said once the ghost was out of earshot. "That's Sir Nicholas, but everyone just calls him Nearly Headless Nick."
"Was he really a, a ghost?" Morgana asked, her voice trembling. She still couldn't quite believe her eyes. She had always thought that ghosts were just make-believe. Something that women warned their children about when they wanted them to behave.
"Er, yes," Harry said slowly, looking at her bemusedly. "Here, I'll show you to the hospital wing. You'll feel better once you see Madame Pomfrey."
"No!" Morgana said loudly. Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "I mean, I feel fine. Would you mind showing me the way to see Dumbledore instead? I've been looking for him but I think I'm lost."
"Oh. Alright," Harry said. For some reason he frowned slightly when she mentioned Dumbledore's name. "Why do you want to see him?"
"A friend told me he could help me," Morgana said. She just wished Merlin had warned her about the ghosts.
Harry guided her up a flight of stairs and then another. Portraits continued to look at Morgana and whisper behind their hands. Soon, more students in long black robes began to pass by them. She noticed that a fair number of them stared at them curiously as they walked by, and she wondered if it was her or Harry who was attracting so much attention.
They walked through a corridor with windows on one side, and Morgana walked to one of these and looked out. She gasped as she beheld the beautiful campus below her. It was Camelot, but it wasn't. Having spent the last ten years of her life staring out of her bedroom window onto Camelot she would recognize the rolling hills beyond the city, the thick forest in the distance, and the grand stone towers on either side anywhere. This place had the same features, but other than that it was completely different. Green lawns and a lake replaced the lower town, and the forest looked dark and sinister, nothing like Camelot's bright woods, full of birdsong. Strange hoops and stands rose up in the distance. It was like a garden years after the gardener moved away or a familiar pair of eyes on a face which had become unfamiliar with age. Suddenly, something Merlin had said hit home for the first time. "It exists over a thousand years in the future."
Morgana was so entranced by the strange yet familiar landscape that she didn't hear Harry walk up behind her. "Er, are you alright?" said Harry.
Morgana jumped and turned away from the window. "Yes, of course," she said. "It's just, well, this place almost reminds me of my home."
"Where are you from?"
"A place called Camelot. I-I'm not really sure how I got here to be honest."
Harry's eyes went wide and he stared at her with a very peculiar expression on his face. "Did you come through a room near the dungeons?"
"Yes! How did you know?" Morgana said.
"Did Merlin send you?" Harry asked in a whisper, his green eyes narrowed.
"You know Merlin?" she said, shocked. What were the chances that she would run into someone who knew her friend? Unless Merlin had spent more time here than she had thought.
"I knew him once," Harry said in a dull voice, "but that was a long time ago. Who are you?"
"My name is Morgana. I'm Uther Pendragon's ward."
Harry looked even more shocked. "But aren't you and Merlin supposed to be enemies?"
"What? Enemies?" Morgana said with a small laugh. The idea was ridiculous. "Did Merlin tell you that?"
"Er, no," Harry said. He was looking up at her with awe and a trace of sadness. "Look, there are some things you should know. Dumbledore will - well, he might be able to help you. His office is at the end of this hallway." Harry pointed to an ugly stone gargoyle which sat inside a handsome stone archway.
"Thank you," Morgana said, but Harry was already hurrying away from her at a jog and in a moment he had vanished around the corner. Morgana stared after him in confusion, and then shook her head and started walking towards the gargoyle through the patches of dappled sunlight which the long line of windows cast on the floor.
When she got to the gargoyle, she looked up into its beaked stone face helplessly for a moment, at a loss for what to do next. Then, she remembered the very last item on the strange portrait's long list of directions.
"Fizzing whizbee," she said, praying that it would work.
To her astonishment, the gargoyle leapt aside and a staircase began to revolve upward behind it with a great scraping sound of stone against stone. She glanced upward but couldn't see where the staircase led. She took a deep breath and stepped onto the stone steps. In a moment she found herself in front of a large wooden door inside of another stone archway. She could hear two voices coming from the other side and it sounded like they were arguing.
She could hear a shrill, enraged voice say, "He's not even human, Dumbledore! Therefore he cannot possibly constitute a suitable replacement!"
"Really?" replied a calm, patient voice. "I was not aware that any ministry decrees had been made to that effect."
"I will not accept this blatant disregard for my authority!" the shrill voice shouted. "And neither will Cornelius."
Morgana felt uncomfortable eavesdropping any longer, so she hastened to knock on the door. A second later the calm voice called, "Come in!"
Morgana pushed open the stone door and took a few steps into a brightly lit office. Upon seeing what his office looked like, Morgana immediately knew that Dumbledore must be the king of this place, no matter what he chose to call himself. Only kings lived like this. There were books everywhere on tall, stately bookshelves, a huge desk, polished to a shine, and on one wall there was a beautiful sword with rubies on its hilt inside a glass case. The chair behind the desk even looked a bit like a throne. Behind the desk, towards the back of the office stood a tall, old wizard with long silvery hair wearing half moon spectacles and long periwinkle blue robes. His posture was not bent despite his obviously great age and he looked every bit the powerful king. Next to him was a person from a completely different mold. She was short, wide, and very, very pink, with a rather unpleasant pinched expression on her face, which was currently bright red with rage.
"Pardon the interruption, Your Majesty," Morgana said with a formal curtsy. "May I please beg a moment of your time?" Though Uther had many flaws, not the least of which being his parenting abilities (or lack thereof), he was excellent at teaching how one must treat a king.
"Ah, of course, my dear," Dumbledore said, sounding surprised and a touch amused. "But in the future, Headmaster or Professor Dumbledore will do nicely enough as a form of address. Professor Umbridge, I'm afraid we will have to finish this discussion some other time."
Meanwhile, the short pink woman called Professor Umbridge was quickly purpling with rage. "I am not finished speaking with you, Dumbledore! Might I remind you that you are not the king of Hogwarts? Far from it. You are only here because the minister allows you to be."
"Believe that if you wish, Dolores," Dumbledore said, calm as ever. "But I, on the other hand, am rather finished speaking with you. I ask that you leave, and please keep in mind that it is still my office into which you are intruding."
Professor Umbridge's lips were now pressed tightly together and her face was an even deeper shade of purple, but after a moment's tense silence she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.
"Now, you wished to speak with me?" Dumbledore prompted Morgana when she continued to stare after Umbridge with her mouth open.
She snapped it shut with a soft pop and looked again at Dumbledore, straightening her spine automatically. "My name is Morgana, from the noble house of Pendragon, and I have come here because, well, because I need your help," she said nervously.
"Morgana...Pendragon, you say?" said Dumbledore, looking thoughtful. "Yes, yes indeed. I suppose I should have expected that you would enter into the picture sooner or later, but I'll admit I had rather thought it would be later."
"What are you talking about?" Morgana asked fearfully.
"Never mind, my dear girl. Just an old man's mutterings. I shall be happy to help you in any way that I can. What is troubling you?"
"I wish to learn more about, about magic. I have been taught all my life that it is evil and dangerous, and now that I have it myself, I don't know what to think. I need to know that it won't turn me into someone I'm not," she said in a soft voice. "Can you help me?"
"You have come to the right place, Morgana. This school has always been a haven for those who have nowhere else to turn. Yes, I believe you will find the answers you seek here at Hogwarts. If it is your wish, I will allow you to enroll at Hogwarts and you will learn that magic is not something that you need to fear." Morgana bit her lip and looked away. Was this what she really needed? To become more entrenched in the world of magic than she already was? What if she became nothing more than another person for Uther to hunt down and slaughter? Seeing her indecision, Dumbledore leaned in closer over his desk and smiled at her kindly when she met his eyes. "Uther cannot harm you here, Morgana. He has been dead for over a thousand years."
Morgana jumped back and looked at Dumbledore in suspicion and awe. His blue eyes were penetrating, but he continued to smile calmly. She had not realized that Uther, and everyone else she had ever known, was dead by now. It brought her an odd mixture of sadness and relief. And how did Dumbledore know what it was she feared? Unless - was it possible he was reading her mind? Thoroughly spooked, Morgana chose not to voice her suspicions in case they turned out to be true. "Y-you know of Uther?"
"Oh, yes. I think you will find that nearly everyone here knows his name. And yours. You see, in the years since Camelot fell, your names have lived on in legend. Should you choose to become a student here, you might find that your name brings you more attention than you may wish for. I would suggest that you keep your true identity secret, at least for the time being."
"But how?" said Morgana.
"Oh, I think it will be easier than you imagine. With so many students filling these halls, you shouldn't have too much difficulty blending into the crowd. You might choose to go by Morgan, or Mary-"
"Morgan," Morgana interrupted. "I think I could get used to that."
"Excellent!" said Dumbledore, beaming at her. "May I take that to mean that you have accepted my offer and wish to become a student here?"
"Yes," Morgana said determinedly. "I have come too far not to try."
"Then I wish you the best of luck, Morgana. If you would please step this way, we will get you sorted into one of Hogwarts' four houses. I believe it will be best if you enter as a first year, because, forgive me, but I believe you may have trouble learning the more difficult spells being taught to the older students given your lack of previous magical education."
At first, Morgana bristled at the jab at her pride, and was just about to retort that she was perfectly capable of learning whatever this school could throw at her, thank you very much, but stopped when she met Dumbledore's eyes again. He was still smiling serenely, his face wise and marked by experience. She could not help but see the wisdom of his words.
"Alright," she sighed, and she followed the old wizard to a bookshelf near the back of his office. He gestured to a wooden stool and she sat down warily, folding her hands in her lap. Dumbledore took a very old looking hat down from a shelf and rubbed a bit of dust off of it. Morgana jumped nearly off her chair when a gap near the rim of the hat opened and seemed to give a wide yawn.
"Don't be afraid, my dear," Dumbledore said tranquilly. He lifted the hat above her and brought it down onto her head. It was slightly too large and fell over her ears. She looked up at Dumbledore quizzically when nothing seemed to be happening. Then, a deep voice boomed in her ears, and she clapped her hands over them.
"My my," the voice said. "I see that someone has been manipulating the space-time continuum again. Will they ever learn?"
"What do you mean?" Morgana asked it fearfully inside her head.
"I mean that you, as possibly the most infamous witch in all of magical history, really do not belong at Hogwarts in the 20th century. But I forget myself. I am only a hat, after all. If you wish to destroy the world as we know it, I cannot stop you. I exist only to sort students into houses, and that is what I must do for you."
"I'm not going to destroy anything!" Morgana shouted at it angrily.
"That is what they all say," the hat replied with a heavy sigh.
"What who says?"
"Never mind, Morgana. I only hope that I, and indeed, the whole world, is wrong about you. I know exactly where to put you. May you find friends there, and not enemies. I daresay you have enough of those to be getting on with."
"SLYTHERIN!" the hat boomed out loud.
"Very good," said Dumbledore, although he did not sound particularly pleased and there was a small crease between his eyebrows. "I thought as much." Morgana got shakily to her feet. "I will call the head of Slytherin house and have him escort you to your new dormitory."
"Thank you," Morgana said, her mind still spinning from what the hat had said it thought she would do.
Dumbledore nodded soberly. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Morgana Pendragon."
Harry sprinted as fast as his legs would allow him down many flights of stairs, hurtling towards the dungeons. Not only did he not want to be any later for Potions than he had to be, he was also burning with the desire to tell Ron and Hermione who it was he had just brought to see Dumbledore.
It had been four long years since he had last seen Merlin. Back in first year, when the memory of Merlin's lessons was still fresh in his mind, he had tried to tell some of his fellow classmates, including Neville and Seamus, that he had met Merlin. This proved to be a mistake, however, because no one would believe him and somehow the story that Harry Potter had gone loony managed to spread throughout the school before their first year at Hogwarts was over. It would have been so much easier if he could have just shown them some of the magic Merlin had taught him, but he still wasn't able to do any of it outside of Merlin's presence. The taunts he had received from Malfoy had been unbearable when he had heard the rumors. In the years following that incident, his mind became too preoccupied with school and fighting against Lord Voldemort's rise to power to think very much about Merlin, and he had slowly begun to think of Merlin and Camelot as something like a childish dream he had once had. But he had never forgotten.
Recently, as Voldemort grew more powerful and the wizarding world stubbornly shut their eyes to the truth about his return, Harry had begun to think about Merlin more and more frequently. Harry had even once thought to hold DA meetings inside the room where time was frozen, and he might have done it if not for the problem of getting back through the door afterwards.
He especially thought about the promise he had made to himself so many years ago, after Merlin had been forced to stop teaching him. As his mind returned to his promise to not live with prejudice again and again, an impossible idea and the beginnings of a plan had begun to form in Harry's mind and refused to leave it. Ron and Hermione had both told him that it was a mad, dangerous idea and that he should forget about it, but now that Morgana was here, Harry could not help but consider it once again. After all, if it worked, it could change everything.
When Harry arrived at the door to the Potions classroom, he opened it as softly as he could and tried to sneak around the students busy brewing what looked like a very complicated potion involving taproot and sheep eyeballs without alerting Snape to his presence. Unfortunately, Snape resembled a bat in more than just appearance. Harry was certain that he could use sonar as well. Snape descended upon him in an instant, black robe billowing out behind him and knocking a glass jar from someone's desk, where it shattered.
"Potter!" Snape hissed. Half of the class stopped what they were doing to watch Snape do what he did best. "Are you under the impression that I allow my students to wander into class whenever they please?"
"No, Professor," Harry said through gritted teeth, "but I thought Ron and Hermione told you that-"
"I don't accept excuses for students to skive off my class. Especially when said student doesn't even discuss the matter with me himself."
"But Professor, I was just-"
"No excuses, Potter! You will receive no marks for today's lesson and I want a 14 inch essay on my desk tomorrow about the correct preparation of the Draught of Illusion." Snape gestured to the long list of instructions written in cramped handwriting on the board.
Harry, shaking with anger, only nodded.
Snape turned away and then, a smirk on his face, turned back and said, "And 20 points from Gryffindor for your tardiness." The Gryffindor side of the class let out a collective groan and several Slytherins snickered.
"Clean up this mess, silly girl," Snape snarled at the shy Gryffindor girl whose jar he had smashed as he made his way back to his desk at the front of the room. Harry sat down in the empty chair at Ron and Hermione's table with a groan and made to take a roll of parchment out of his bag to begin Snape's essay.
"Was that woman from the hallway all right, Harry?" Ron asked him in a whisper.
"Oh! Yeah," Harry said. For a moment he had completely forgotten that he wanted to tell Ron and Hermione about Morgana, his mind was so full of anger at Snape. He relayed Morgana's identity and what she had told him in a whisper so that the people at the surrounding tables couldn't hear him.
"Bloody hell, Harry! First you meet Merlin, and then you meet his arch-enemy!"
"But the thing is, she said they weren't enemies. And she didn't seem evil at all," said Harry. He hesitated, and then added, "I think she could really help to make that plan I told you about go more smoothly."
"Oh no, Harry," Hermione said, dawning comprehension and worry on her face. "You're not still thinking about that, are you? I'm telling you, it's a really bad idea! And the Morgana Pendragon out of the history textbooks would never agree to it."
"You don't know that!" Harry said impatiently.
"You don't know anything about Morgana, though, Harry! Why would you trust her with this?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"She seemed like a good person, is all. I could tell she was sincere. Think of how much more impressive it would be if she were behind me on this."
"Maybe, but just think about it, mate," said Ron. "Morgana is supposed to be one of the most evil witches who ever lived. Haven't you seen the chocolate frog card? And besides, what you're planning is illegal!"
"Like we've never broken the rules before," Harry shot back.
"But this is different!" Hermione said, looking stricken. "You're trying to change the very nature of wizarding society."
"For the better," Harry said vehemently.
"It's not up to you to decide that," she said. "Look, we'll talk about this later. Snape's watching us rather closely."
Harry looked up and saw that she was right, Snape was staring at them, a look of deepest suspicion and loathing on his face. Harry sighed and went to work on his essay, although he really didn't know where to start, having missed the first part of the lesson. He would have to borrow Hermione's notes later.
Ron and Hermione just didn't understand. Why couldn't they see how much better off the world would be if they followed his plan? The chance for this kind of global change only came about once in a lifetime, and now that Merlin's world was open to them, that chance had come. His friends didn't seem to understand how how much damage the separation of entire groups of people had done throughout history, all the way back to Merlin's time. If Voldemort was going to be vanquished once and for all, they would have to stand against him as a people united. Because this wasn't just the wizards' fight, and it wasn't just the wizards he was threatening. It was everyone.
A/N: Hello everybody! I'm sorry this chapter is so late. I got insanely busy with end of the year projects for school and didn't have much time to write. I hope this chapter was worth the wait, though!
After careful consideration, I have decided that this story is going to be friendship only. Sorry to anyone who was hoping for Mergana. I have also changed the summary because I wasn't happy with the old one, in case anyone was confused. Just thought you ought to know. (*faints*)
By the way, Fanfiction was not letting me reply to reviews for a while there, so I'll just say thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter here. Thank you all! And thank you to the people who followed/favorited the story as well. You guys inspire me to write!