Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.
Thank you for your reviews! Now, just wondering, does Morgana seem a bit Mary-Sueish to you? I'm trying to not have any of those in this story, but I'd just like some feedback or suggestions. Do review, but for now, enjoy the chapter!
WARNING: Insults to different Hogwarts Houses here. Don't kill me for it - it's simply how Morgana thinks.
Morgana was still unused to her newfound freedom, and was celebrating by casting every harmful spell she knew on a Conjured dummy. Curiously, the mannequin's facial features looked very much alike to a certain Dark Lord's. Ada often hissed with approval, but she usually spent her time snoozing. Morgana had found that, armed with a wand, it became easier to cast spells, and took less energy than when she did it wandlessly. Soon, however, exactly three days after Morgana purchased her wand, it was time for her to enter Hogwarts.
A couple of days ago, on the day after she finished getting her equipment, a round cheerful man had popped by to test her. He had blond, thinning hair and a walrus mustache perched upon his upper lip. He introduced himself as Professor Slughorn. "I'm the Potions Professor at Hogwarts, and I'm here to test your abilities, Ms. Greene. Albus – that's Professor Dumbledore to you – is busy today, but he informed me that you seem to have quite the talent for magic." His amber eyes glowed with an emotion that Morgana identified as greed. Slughorn gestured towards her scar casually, eyes raking over the jagged black cracks. "I also hear you're planning to brew the Cicatrix Potion to remove your scar? It's a very complex potion, my dear, but I can see why you would want to do so…"
As the overbearing man prattled on, she read between the lines and realized that he collected students. Yes, his job as the Head of Slytherin suited him very well.
Morgana had read Hogwarts: A History by now, and she knew about the Four Houses. There was Gryffindor, for the brave (and reckless, if her instincts were correct); Hufflepuff, for the loyal (Morgana knew that too many people underestimated Hufflepuffs, and made a note to befriend some – they would make good minions); Ravenclaw, for the smart (and probably the overly stressed bookworms); and Slytherin, for the ambitious (probably backstabbing, too).
Morgana did not think she would end up in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, for obvious reasons. Ravenclaw and Slytherin were her best choice – she loved information, but she often used that information to gain an advantage over others. However, reading through the last chapter of Hogwarts: A History, her mind was made up. The chapter, House Rivalry, stated that Slytherins and Gryffindors did not get along, simply because the former were blood-purists, and the Gryffindors disagreed. As Morgana absolutely hated Grindelwald and his pureblood beliefs, she decided to try to get into Ravenclaw. A Muggleborn like her would never be welcome in the 'House of the Pure' anyway.
Drawing her mind back to Slughorn, she performed all his tasks casually, transfiguring parchment into canaries, charming Slughorn with a Cheering Charm, and so on. With every wave of her wand, the Potions Professor's smile grew bigger and bigger. When she finally cast the last spell effortlessly, he laughed merrily. "Oho, Morgana! You are quite the all-rounder, aren't you? Hogwarts would be pleased to have you inside our castle walls," he spoke, smiling. "You have all the skills necessary for your seventh year, Ms. Greene. However, the OWLs are an important part of your education, so I'm afraid we will have to place you into fifth year." Morgana nodded and saw the Professor off.
Now, she was Flooing into the Headmaster's Office using his personal fireplace. Her belongings would be Apparated separately – that included Ada. She hadn't been too happy with that, but Morgana had promised her extra treats. The Headmaster was an elderly man called Armando Dippet. He had round, awkward glasses and wrinkled skin. His upper lip sported a thin white mustache that looked like a hairy caterpillar, and he wore plain black robes. He didn't look impressive, or sound like a Headmaster at all. He hemmed and hawed while speaking, frantically searching through his cluttered desktop for papers while trying not to look hassled. Morgana didn't think much of him, and neither did Professor Dumbledore, standing in the corner tapping his foot impatiently.
"Uh, Ms. Blue – no, sorry, Greene – well first of all let me welcome you to Hogwarts. Err, yes, so now we'll sort you privately. It's one month before the students come back from the holidays, and we thought you might like to get some time to… ah, adjust. So, um, let's get the Sorting Hat…" He slipped off his dragon-hide leather chair and fumbled about on the disorganized shelves for the 'Sorting Hat'. Morgana had no idea what the Sorting Hat was, but she assumed that it was a magical Hat that would Sort her. After all, wizards seemed to come up with some very blunt and obvious names – Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them, the Daily Prophet… and the Sorting Hat. Out of the dusty shelf came a worn old hat that looked like it had been trampled on in the rain and mud.
Following Dumbledore's request, she sat on the stool as Dippet placed the hat over her head. The brim almost slipped down her eyes (it was a very big hat) and she heard a deep voice echo within her mind. Ah, you're a bit too old to be a first-year, but I haven't sorted you yet. Hello, Morgana Greene. Morgana fought the initial urge to jump at a voice talking inside her head, but she sat stiffly on the stool. Absently, she wondered if all magical hats could read minds. The hat upon her head chuckled and Morgana scowled. Sort me into Ravenclaw please, she told the Hat. Ravenclaw? But, my dear, you would make a wonderful Slytherin! You are exactly what Salazar was looking for. They are pureblood supremacists, and I am a Muggleborn. I would never fit in, Morgana argued.
True. But then, if you are so eager to find friendliness, perhaps I should send you to Hufflepuff! Morgana gave the Hat a hard, mental slap, and the fabric upon her head winced. Again, Morgana wondered if she could send mental slaps to humans. That would make life so much more convenient. Sort me into Hufflepuff and I will set you on fire and leave you to the Thestrals to feast upon. The hat laughed inside her head. Alright, Ms. Greene. But are you sure you wouldn't want Slytherin? You have the ambition and determination of a Slytherin, but you also have the intelligence and resourcefulness of a Ravenclaw. You would do well in both Houses. This is your choice. Morgana nodded firmly (mentally, of course). Inside, however, she was starting to have some doubts. I do want to do well in life. I do have plenty of Slytherin characteristics, but I treasure intelligence above all else. Plus, they would never accept me. With that last thought, the Hat coughed politely.
I believe I know where to sort you, then. Holding her breath, Morgana waited for what seemed like an eternity. The hat shouted a single word across the office. "SLYHTERIN!" Morgana gaped at the hat. "Hey! You said you would…" she spluttered as she realized the hat had never said that it would sort her in Ravenclaw. Dippet and Dumbledore looked at her, Dippet with a confused look and Dumbledore with a reassuring look. "Don't worry," he said in a soothing tone. "Slytherin is a perfectly respectable house, Ms. Greene…" Judging by the tone of his voice, Dumbledore did not agree with his own words. Morgana choked on the irony. The Leader of the Light, reassuring a Slytherin, who also happened to be Muggleborn.
The sorting hat giggled. Giggled! Morgana gave a fierce frown and the piece of headwear grinned. "Joking, silly. RAVENCLAW!" Dumbledore, although slightly put out, politely applauded as Dippet placed the Hat back in its dusty spot, still confused. "An excellent House," the Transfiguration Professor said, eyes twinkling. "I must remind the Hat not to joke around again, although the last time Alvin did that was about fifty years ago." Morgana spluttered again. The hat was called Alvin? Oh, come on!
Dumbledore turned around at the bumbling old man. "Headmaster?" Dippet blinked owlishly and hurried to force a smile on his face. "Yes, yes, well done, Ms. Blue. Now, Albus, could you lead the girl to her House dormitory?" The scatterbrained man trailed off as Dumbledore nodded. The bearded professor opened the door and clambered down the staircase, Morgana following closely behind.
"First off, Ms. Greene, welcome to Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, talking as he strode along the twisting corridors of the castle. "Ravenclaw, the House you have been sorted in, is the House for the intelligent and quick-witted. Your house colors are blue and bronze, and your House founder is Rowena Ravenclaw. As you have no doubt read Hogwarts: A History from cover to cover, I shall leave you now at your common room." Dumbledore showed Morgana to a tall tower with a spiraling staircase. At the top of the tower was a simple wooden door and a brass knocker. As Dumbledore left her, Morgana hesitantly rapped the knocker.
To her surprise (she was getting surprised a lot now, she'd have to practice being stoic more often) the eagle knocker came to life. It's beak clacked together and words flowed from its mouth, although no bird should have the ability to speak, as they didn't have teeth. "If you have it, you want to share it. If you share it, you don't have it. What is it?"
Morgana gaped, then remembered to be stoic and closed her open mouth. A riddle was the password? What sort of security system was that? Anyone with a brain cell could enter!
Morgana told the knocker so, but it didn't respond. Apparently it was only charmed to ask riddles, not answer questions nor listen to constructive criticism. Perhaps it only answered to teachers. She'd have to investigate. Answering the riddle, she quickly started to unravel her train of thought, leaving her more confused than ever. The answer is a secret. So, does that mean I don't have it anymore? It being the password or a secret? Wait, what? The password is a secret. But I just shared it. So is it still a secret? But secrets can be shared too, and that doesn't change reality. Or maybe it does. If a secret is the password, then what's a secret? Or is the secret to a secret a secret? What am I even talking about… Am I going insane?
Deciding not to answer that last question, Morgana stepped through the wooden door that had just opened, making a note to herself to try to make the knocker's riddles better. Or more of a secret. She shut the door behind her and grinned at her new surroundings.
The Ravenclaw Common Room was a large circular room with two bronze staircases twisting their way upwards on the opposite sides of the tower. The floor was covered in soft, midnight blue carpet, and there were magnificent wide windows around the room. They were draped with blue and bronze silk, and the wide domed ceiling was painted with stars. The back of the common room was occupied by large bookcases that towered over Morgana. She passed the beautiful statue of Rowena Ravenclaw and clambered up the staircase leading to the girls' dorms.
Inside the large room were four, equally large poster beds, decorated in blue and bronze, of course. Morgana chose the one closest to the window, which also happened to be the one closest to the bathroom. She took out her trunk from her pocket, un-shrunk it, and lugged it to the front of the bed. Taking out her wand, she cast complex wards on her bed and belongings, including a nasty curse that made any intruders lose their eyesight for a week, before leaving the dorms to explore Hogwarts.
After a month, Morgana was used the castle, with it's constant changing staircases and secret passageways. They happened to be very good for avoiding Professor Slughorn, who seemed to be on a quest to bring Morgana to his club. The 'Slug Club' as Slughorn had pompously informed Morgana, was a society dedicated to brilliant protégés (not to mention people with connections). When he had magnanimously tried to invite her, she had politely declined. Now, however, he was still chasing her down, so Morgana had to take drastic action, leaping behind tapestries and ducking into alcoves.
Morgana had come to love Hogwarts in the short amount of time she had come to the castle. It seemed to be alive, and was full of constant surprises. She spent her days wandering the grounds and discovering passages. She found one that led from the potions cabinet to the Slytherin Common Room, one behind a statue of a humpbacked witch that went to Hogsmeade, one that curiously led from the Charms classroom to a broom closet, and many more.
However, the most interesting thing about Hogwarts was the mysterious room on the seventh floor. The Come and Go room. Morgana had wanted to know more about Hogwarts, and had gone down to the kitchens to ask the House Elves. The small creatures were cautious of her at first, but when she casually complimented the food they cooked, they suddenly became very forthcoming. One little elf, who was called Tibby, had told her about the room. "We is calling it the Come and Go Room, miss. It is at the seventh floor and we is using it for whatever we is wanting, miss." This had perked Morgana's interest. "It turns into whatever you want?" The elf nodded eagerly as she thanked it. Morgana was quite glad of the room – it had provided her with plenty of reading material and school equipment.
It was also the perfect place to begin brewing the Cicatrix Potion. Morgana had already set up her equipment and her brewing stand, and she had spent her valuable gold on several ingredients. Thankfully, Slughorn was in the know about her potion and gave her access to the Potions Cupboard. The Cicatrix was a very precise potion, requiring specific amounts of ingredients to be added in exactly 20 seconds after each other. Morgana had carried out the first part of the potion, and all she needed to do now was wait for it to mature. She couldn't wait to get rid of this scar – she had never fully appreciated how easy it was to influence people with good looks.
Now, exactly 28 days later, it was time for the school to open its gates once more.
Dippet had sent her King's Cross Station, to board the Hogwarts Express. "It'll be good for you to make some friends, Ms. Blue," he said dismissively. "It's tradition," he added. The headmaster was adamant in following tradition, so in his book that was reason enough. Morgana had no choice but to Portkey into London and board the scarlet engine among the mass of students. Making her way along the train as it gained speed, Morgana finally found an empty compartment and sat down.
Soon after, the door slid open once more, and Hufflepuff boy came in, pulling his trunk behind him. "Oh," he said, surprised. "No one ever uses this compartment except me and Fiona. But," the boy added quickly. His eyes wandered over her scar and Morgana groaned mentally. Once she had her old looks back, she would be able to influence people a lot more. "It's alright. You're welcome to stay." Morgana raised an eyebrow, but the Ravenclaw didn't notice. How rude, she thought. Saying 'you're welcome to stay' when I was here first. The boy heaved his large trunk onto the racks and sat down. He smiled hesitantly. "So, hello. Uh, my name's Robert. Robert Boot." Morgana nodded. "Morgana Greene."
They sat there in awkward silence, until the door slid open again. A young girl, a Ravenclaw this time, bounced in. "Hello, Rob!" she said brightly. "And hello to you too. I don't think we've met. I'm Fiona Boot, this guy's sister. It's nice to meet you. Mummy says its rude not to talk to people in the same room but its also bad if you talk to strangers. So, … Oh how rude of me, I've forgotten your name! What did you say it was?" Morgana blinked – the girl had said all of this in one short breath. "My name's Morgana Greene. Pleasure to meet you," she said neutrally.
"You're a Ravenclaw as well! What's that scar on your face? Looks like it hurts a lot, did you get cursed on your first day? Oh, sorry, it's rather rude of me to ask – you don't have to answer if you don't want to! But it's nice to meet you, Morgana – can I call you Morgana? Ms. Greene sounds so formal, you know," squealed Fiona. Morgana groaned internally as the brunette prattled on, preferring to observe her surroundings. The Hufflepuff, Robert, had a small button nose and messy mousy brown hair. He was evidently very shy. His sister, Fiona, was the complete opposite. She had the same dull green eyes and brown hair, but her personality was outgoing and friendly. Really, she was amazed that the girl was not in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. The scales rubbing on her arm told her that Ada was annoyed as well. Morgana smirked as a sudden idea sprang to mind.
Noisily, she unwrapped Ada from her arm. Fiona froze and shut her mouth with an audible clack. Robert seemed less affected, but he still had a look of fear on his pale face. "A- a snake!" squeaked Fiona. Her tanned skin grew pale and her freckles were suddenly very visible. She edged away from Morgana. Ada hissed at her happily and bared her fangs. The girl leapt away from the beautiful, deadly snake.
Morgana widened her eyes innocently. "Oh, I'm sorry," she purred. "Do snakes scare you? I shouldn't have brought her out then, my apologies. This is Ada – she's a poisonous, magical snake. Her venom can kill in seconds." If possible, Fiona's face grew paler and she stammered. "I… It's al-alright. I- I'm just scared of s-snakes. Ah…" The Boot siblings ran out of the compartment, lugging their trunks behind them. Ada hissed happily, watching them go. "You should have cursed her the minute she stepped in," Morgana mused. "No, no need to scare people the first moment you meet them," replied Ada. "You need to make connections." Morgana chuckled dryly. "Know-it-all reptile," she grinned. Ada stuck her pointed tongue out her and slithered back into the bag, insulted. Morgana smirked unrepentantly.
Peace and quiet at last.
Making Morgana evil is really fun. *cackles madly* Review please, next chapter is up when 30 people click the button/review. See you then. :)
Next time:
George turned and grinned at Fiona. "Someone's got a crush," he teased. Fiona's face was a splendid tomato red and protested. "Hey! It might be true, but almost every girl here has a crush on him! I mean, who wouldn't!" George grimaced but sighed. "It's true," he told Morgana. "The guy has perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect behaviour – I'm not kidding!" he said at her skeptical face. "All the girls just adore Tom Riddle."