AN: A new HP fic. Just couldn't help myself. This will be very different and exciting. The Morrigan is a very interesting, ancient Irish deity I recently read up on and here we are.

Warnings: underage sexual situations, violence, blood and gore, promiscuity, obscure magics, lots of Irish and Celtic mythology. Read at your own risk! And enjoy!

Rose hoped her sobs could not be heard through the cupboard. Again, her uncle had hit her. Again her aunt had thrown poisonous words at her and her parents. Again her cousin had grinned throughout her ordeal, relishing in it. She could never defend herself. What would she even be able to do if she tried? She knew, at only ten years old, she stood no chance against her uncle. Sometimes, she wanted to hurt them back.

And sometimes, she just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up.

Like now.

Her wrist and face hurt.

Lost in her thoughts, she had accidentally burnt Vernon's breakfast. He, of course, had gotten angry because of it and grabbed her by her wrist to backhand her. Not once. It never was once with her uncle when he got really angry with her.

She wished she could hurt him back. Just one time.

Rose wondered for how long she would be kept locked away this time. She hoped it wouldn't be too long. Being stuck in here was horrible. It started to smell, she got really hungry and had to really use the loo.

A yawn escaped her. She felt tired. She reached up to turn off the cupboard's light and turned to face away from the door. Closing her eyes, she wondered if she'd be lucky this time and not wake up. Her dreams were nice sometimes.

She'd like to just dream forever.

Her eyes snapped open. She was wide awake and knew that something felt different. Her face didn't hurt and neither did her wrist.

That wasn't it, though. Those things had happened before.

No, what was different was the dream she had had. Steel clashing, her vision tainted in crimson, the dull thud of bodies dropping – it scared her. Never before had she had a dream quite like this.

And now she was awake. She wanted to go back to sleep, to forget about the real world, about her aunt and uncle and cousin. But now, she was worried that she'd dream that dream again. Rolling onto her back, she stared at the cupboard's ceiling, which was nothing but darkness. She didn't know if it was already morning or if it was still night. Her eyes were still heavy, so she felt it safe to assume that it wasn't morning yet.

Before she knew it, sleep took over once more.

Three days had passed and Rose had been allowed out of the cupboard again. She was glad too because she was thirsty, hungry and really needed to use the loo.

And, after she was 'presentable' again, everything returned to the way it used to be before she had burnt that breakfast. She couldn't decide whether that was a good or bad thing. Slaving for the Dursleys did have the advantage of helping her focus on her tasks instead of other things and days tended to feel shorter that way. She certainly didn't mind that one bit.

'Normal' didn't last for long, however.

One evening, while washing the dishes, a sharp caw startled her. She turned to look towards the kitchen's window and was surprised to see a raven or crow – she was never sure with those – sitting there on the window sill and looking at her. It really felt like it was staring straight at her. Then, a moment later, a second one joined. Then a third.

Rose blinked several times to make sure she wasn't just seeing things. Sure, it was nothing too weird to see a raven or crow on a window sill, but three? And all three of them were sitting still, looking straight at her. She was sure that that wasn't normal. Curious, the dishes forgotten, she walked closer to the window. The birds didn't move their gazes from her, not even for a moment, and, once she got closer to the window, her jaw nearly dropped all the way to the floor. Outside, on the Dursleys' lawn, on their tree and on their car were countless of these black birds and all of them appeared to be looking at her. And then, as if on cue, she could see them all open their beaks for a single, deafening caw and –

Rose gasped, her heart racing a mile a minute. She looked around and realized that her hands were soapy and that she was holding a plate, standing in front of the kitchen sink, washing the dishes. She turned towards the window and there was nothing.

She furrowed her brows. Had she just imagined it? Had she just imagined all those ravens or crows outside? Was she losing it?

"What are you doing, girl?!" her aunt suddenly asked, nearly making her jump in surprise. "Why haven't you finished yet?!"

"I-I – there were…" She trailed off. What would it even matter? No matter what she said, she wouldn't be believed. No, before she'd be believed she'd be beaten again. She knew these people, these degenerates. Leeches. Maggots.

Rose stopped.

"What's the matter with you, girl?" Petunia asked, however, it was clear from the suspicion in her voice that the question wasn't asked out of worry.

Rose looked at the plate in her hand and, for the briefest of moments, wondered how satisfying it would be to break her aunt's precious porcelain right over her head.

"Nothing, Aunt Petunia. I'm almost finished."

After all, it wouldn't do to tell her aunt that she was feeling like she was going crazy.

That night, Rose awoke again with a gasp. She took a shaky breath and sat up. She looked around – not that she could see anything in this tiny, dark, dingy, bloody cupboard – and tried to relax. The haunting whispers of a woman still rang loud and clear in her head.

'Come' she had said. 'Come and join me'.

A part of her – a part which obviously was completely nutters – wanted to follow it. But where would she even go, even if she suddenly began to listen to ominous voices from her dreams? How could she even leave the cupboard, considering her aunt never forgot to lock her up before going to sleep, just in case she decided to raid the Dursleys' precious fridge in the middle of the night? How would poor Vernon and Dudley survive if she – the unwanted orphan, the freak, the runt – would eat all of their food away?

She shook her head. Again, her thoughts drifted off in such a weird way. She probably really was losing her mind. Who could blame her though? While those two fat sacks of meat upstairs stuffed their faces multiple times a day she was barely allowed to eat enough to stop the worst pangs of hunger. It made her angry.

"Come child. Leave and come – join me."

"I'm really losing the plot," Rose whispered wide-eyed. Did she really just hear that voice from her dream while awake? What was going on?!

"Come."

She leaned against the back of the cupboard, pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Maybe it would go away if she just ignored it?

She waited, still wide-eyed and shivering, listening into the darkness.

"Ignoring my signs was foolish already, child, but ignoring my call is a death wish. Your fate is in my hands. COME."

The moment the voice spoke its last word, the door to her cupboard was ripped from its hinges, the wood crunching as it broke. She then heard the muffled voices from her uncle and aunt and the heavy, angry stomping sounds of her uncle's footsteps followed by the rattling of a door. He then was shouting angrily and, from the sound of it, hitting the door. If she had to take a guess she would say that he was locked in his own bedroom.

"Who are you?" Rose asked and immediately felt silly because there was no one around aside from her angry relatives upstairs.

"Someone you should listen to if you want to be free and powerful."

She did want to be free, most definitely. And powerful? Yeah, that'd be a nice extra, no doubt. To be free and strong enough to defend herself from people like Vernon? How could she say no? But what if all this was just a fabrication of her mind? What if she was just finally going crazy? Maybe one of Vernon's hits against her face had finally damaged something up there. It would make sense, wouldn't it?

"Follow my crows, child. Follow them and see for yourself. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain."

The voice had a point, to be fair. No matter what would happen to her once she would…'follow the crows', it certainly would be better than another day of slaving away for...for this family.

"Indeed. You, Rose Potter, are so much more than they let you believe. Now come. My patience is not eternal."

Swallowing thickly, Rose crawled out from the cupboard and got up on shaky legs, looking left and right down the entrance hall. The front door opened by itself, inviting her to her freedom. She honestly wasn't sure what to do. Should she go through the door – which opened by itself – and risk it? Or should she let her life rot away under the Dursleys' cruelty? She stared, biting her bottom lip. She then pinched her arm as hard as she could, making her eyes squeeze shut and herself whimper in pain. She stopped and looked around and was both relieved and scared that nothing had changed – she was still in the Dursley's entrance hall, the door to her cupboard was still ripped from its hinges and on the ground, the front door still opened. Her legs still shaky, she walked towards her freedom. With every step, she imagined Vernon's screaming and shouting to be drowned by a broken down door because he finally managed to get out. She imagined him right behind her, grabbing her by the cuff of her shirt and dragging her back inside. It made her walk faster.

The moment she stepped outside, it felt like she was able to really, genuinely breathe for the first time. Gone was the feeling of her suffocating under the Dursleys' thumb. Taking a deep breath, she couldn't help but smile. This was it. Rose Potter was going to be free.

Rose Potter was going to be her own person and no one's chattel.

Her nervousness all but forgotten and not caring about her oversized pyjamas and bare feet, she kept walking out to the front lawn and there, in the darkness, she could just about make out a crow. Upon seeing her, it turned its head towards the general direction of the playground before flying away with a gentle caw. With a shrug and nothing else to go on, Rose started walking there, wondering what she was getting herself into. There was little to no chance for her to go back to her relatives. Her uncle and aunt had made it clear – more often than necessary – that she hadn't been wanted by them. The feeling, thanks to their efforts, was more than mutual. Privet Drive had never been her home and never would be. It had been a prison she wanted to forget. So, this opportunity, if she wanted to call it that, was all she had.

All she could do was hope that the voice's promises would be kept and that she would really become free and powerful.

The walk to the playground was over quickly and she had not encountered any more crows on her way. Rose wasn't sure if that meant that she was on the right track or completely off the mark. Nevertheless, here she was – in the middle of the night in the deserted playground.

On one of the benches, barely visible, she saw another crow. This one pointed its beak towards the forest just behind the playground, causing her to swallow. A ten-year-old girl walking into the forest this late at night? It was like she was asking for trouble. But what did she have to lose? There was no way the Dursleys would ever take her back – not that she wanted them to. If she were to die in there, in the forest, she just hoped it'd be over quickly. There wasn't much for her to hold onto anyway.

Steeling her nerves, she started to walk towards the forest. She had a feeling her feet would look terrible soon and couldn't help but chuckle after imagining walking with dirty feet around Petunia's house. Just the faces she'd make would've been worth it.

A few steps into the forest, however, and her random thoughts made way for silent exclamations of pain because of all the twigs and other things hurting the bare soles of her feet. The crunch of dried leaves and the snapping of twigs were the only sounds she was hearing – aside from her hammering heart. With every step, it got darker and, sooner than she would have liked, the little bit of illumination provided by the moon was gone as well. The forest was a lot thicker than she would have expected. A forest like this certainly didn't seem like something they'd like having around in Little Whinging.

"Because we are in Ireland, child."

Rose's eyes widened in shock and she tripped, falling face-first into the dirt. "Ow, ow, ow…" She looked around, rubbing her sore nose with a hand. Quickly realizing that looking around in utter darkness didn't do her any good, she just spoke into the forest. "What do you mean? How can we be in Ireland? Who are you?"

"Just a bit further. You are almost there."

Not having any other choice, Rose kept on walking, her brows furrowed and her arms wrapped around herself.

"Do not adopt such a pitiful posture in my presence."

Again, Rose's head whipped around, trying to pinpoint where that voice was coming from, but it just sounded like it was coming from everywhere.

"Stand up straight."

Rose did so without realizing it.

"Now you may step before me."

A sudden light appeared right in front of her, blinding her in the darkness of the night. Covering her eyes with an arm, she could hear steps approaching and then, suddenly, there was a pair of hands on her arm, pulling them from her face.

"Finally we meet, Rose Potter."

"W-who're you?" she asked, her eyes tightly shut, though it didn't help much; the light was blinding her still.

"Oh, I am so many. Some say I am but the title of Badb, Macha and Nemain – or Anand. Some think I am one of the sisters Ériu, Banba and Fódla. And again, some think that all these names are sisters to each other." The voice chuckled and Rose could feel a hand stroke her cheek. It was oddly warm and cold at the same time. "One name has been constant, however. Or is it a title? Maybe it is both. Whichever it is, you may call me Morrigan – and I am all of them."

Rose felt even more confused than before. "I don't understand…" She wished she could look at the woman but was afraid she'd actually go blind because of the light.

"I know you humans have lost your touch when it comes to your gods and goddesses – especially those as old as I."

Rose couldn't help but open her eyes to the light. To her surprise, it didn't blind her. "Gods?"she asked, barely above a whisper.

"We have a lot to talk about, Rose Potter. After all, our fates are tied, it seems. You and I...we...are one."

And then, there was nothing.