AN: Here I am! And I'm finally posting.

I had originally intended to cut this chapter in two while I was writing it because it seemed more pleasing to me to have an actual time pause between certain parts, but I decided against it. After all the time I wasted, plus Hurricane Maria, I thought it would be best to leave it together. Its better this way; we get to move on, finally. Let's be real, this fic is draaaaaagging on too much, so I should stop adding more chapters (even though I do plan for this fic to be long). Honestly, it's Lorcan that's making it this way (I love him, so I have gotten carried away with him). Once we move on from him we can get to the serious paring of this story, and I AM DYING to get there.

Thank you to ALL YOU LOVELY PEOPLE that left me good wishes. My family and I are fine, powering through this crisis as best we can. Things are slowly being fixed here. I still don't have electricity in my house, hence no internet, but I'll manage with what little phone signal I get somewhere. And you all are awesome and deserve cookies and rainbows and for all your favourite fics to get updated on the same day!

So yeah, this here is a mega chapter, the longest we've have. I really hope I don't write another as long as this one. It's tiring and slow and I need to get to more fun parts.

I have more to say at the end of the chapter.

Chapter 35: The dream part IV

"Excuse me, but I'm not in the mood for chatter." I told the portrait of Merlin as I left Slytherin House alone. It was a surprising thing, to leave the common room not trailing behind my dorm mates. The fact made me think I was heading for the Library or somewhere to study on my own, and it was beyond annoying to know that I was so damn predictable. However I could hardly blame myself, with the abysmal curriculum I had willingly chosen to follow. I needed routine like a drowning man needed air. "I have work to finish."

"That is precisely why I have stopped you. I am here to help you, you merely need to ask." The drawing said. Although his tone was complete filled with thoughtfulness and his normal assertiveness, it didn't stop me from letting out an exasperated sounding sigh.

My body turned around, standing face to face with the man depicted in the frame. "I have everything under control."

What my face depicted, I didn't know, but that in no way unsettled Merlin. Not nearly enough to keep him from speaking again. And he was one to always speak, he was insufferable in that way, even just looking at the dream play out it was evident, and though I wasn't as annoyed by him now as I was back at the beginning of the term, I still found his meddling tiresome. "Headmaster Dumbledore has been kind enough to share your health record with me."

"I'm fine." My words came out as if they had been practiced a hundred times, and if I remembered correctly, they were. "Though I do not understand why he would share that information with you."

The portrait of my ancestor didn't take the venom in my voice kindly. He recognized it instantly, and in a matter of a second his face close over in a manner that I couldn't help but think that reminded me much of the fact that he was as pure Slytherin as I was. "I may not be the real Merlin that once lived, but I do carry a part of him. At least that is something the Headmaster understands."

I highly doubted his words. Dumbledore was one to ever warn me about my proximity to the century old painting. Past me had enough sense to not speak back to Merlin against that topic, though I don't know if it was clear to me back then.

"And I do hold memories of life in this school. Hogwarts has always been a place of academical greatness, and I vividly remember relishing my privilege to come here, regardless of the sleepless night huddled over parchment. But what a marvel it was to sit in the common room with my colleagues and spent hours discussing all that had been learned in the were good days. As far as I've seen, Slytherin House has change much to the point that I don't recognize much of what it does. Or the things the company you keep force you to take part in." His tone was accusatory, and my gaze snapped up to him immediately. He knew of the Duelling Society and the things I was taught there. Did he know because he had once done them himself or because he had been told? Surely it didn't matter, if I was just willingly learning an art that was already in my blood. A dark art that meant he had passed down to me, in a way. Regardless of the topic of the Society, his insinuation that either the girls of my dorm or Lorcan were a bad influence on me didn't sit well at that moment. In my way of thinking, the portrait of Merlin had no right to speak ill of my friends. "Speak to Dumble—"

Whatever I had been thinking while the drawing spoke was catastrophically agitated by the sudden, but not out of place, mention of the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"I'm tired of speaking to him! All I've done since I woke up is talk to Dumbledore." And it was the undoubted truth. Even after coming to the school and evading the Headmaster at all cost, he was still one of the people I talked to the most. Though, it delighted me to think that he was now behind Lily and Peter in that regard. But past me didn't have that peace of mind, and in the confines of vision I watched an affronted expression be born in the portraits face at my stubborn words. "I won't do it."

"Do not raise your voice at me." Merlin's eyes burned with icy blue spark, as his mouth pressed together to form a thin line.

If the intensity of his growing anger was supposed to hold me back, it didn't. Whatever was going through my mind at the time was explosive to the point that I didn't care of how rude I was being or the insult I was paying to the last remnant of not only my known family, but of a legendary wizard. As much contempt as I sometimes held toward Merlin and his pestering, it didn't sit well to me anymore to be offensive to him. "I'll do what I want. You aren't a bloody person; I have no reason to do as you say."

My words visibly shook him. He tried to retaliate as fast as he could, but at that moment I happened to be faster. "Morgana—"

"There you go again, calling me that name." My voice was laced with annoyance, ever the same when he in particular called me anything but Faraday. "Are you talking about Morgana the dark witch? Do I remind you of her that much?"

He huffed; his face twisting in ways that I now knew only the mention of Morgana could produce in him. I believe he hadn't thought until then that I would have looked up the name he sometimes called me by mistake. My sudden mention of a detail about her, that she was a dark witch of all things, did not make anything better. Without a word he stood from the chair he had been painted on, and left his frame. I stared at the empty canvas for a long while, at a loss for words wondering where he had gone off to.

Before I knew it, Lorcan Mulciber was tucking a lose strand of hair to the side of my head as we sat for lunch in the Great Hall. Pleased that my normal bun hairdo was in a composed position, he turned back to his plate of food.

My own plate looked barely touched, as I noticed when my line of vision went along the table. We were sitting along an array of the most powerful Slytherins in the school, all on the pedestal of age and position as well as family situation. There were some exceptions to one or two of those matters, but the alarming bit was that I was sitting near the very top. Lorcan Mulciber was the current possessor of all the best thought of qualities to our house. Ancestry, blood purity, money, age, excellent marks and the Prefect position, and handsome looks to boot; he was grace with all. And by association so was I. No one questioned my sudden appearance in thewizarding world, or my claims of being from an ancient pure-blooded family. No one even tried to question me about it anymore. I was Lorcan's girl, and if he thought I was good enough for himself, then everybody else held no doubt that I was part of the elite too.

The thought and fact that once I had swelled with pride for it, made me want to be nauseous. If only the repulsion could ransack my body, then maybe I wouldn't feel so horrible watching how lovingly he looked at me, and how much I shared those sentiments with him.

It was only lunch time, so the table wasn't filled with the same pleasant conversation as it would happen during dinner, but the steady flux of students joining the table and leaving was enjoyable enough. My eyes, though most of the time insisted on staring on some part of Mulciber's body, did venture away from the Slytherin table. I thought of relief only when my vision scanned around the Great Hall. Particularly, I knew I ignored the teachers' table, so to not meet the eye of a certain Headmaster. That was probably the only sensible things my past self did that I could stand by. Other than that I looked around, concentrating on fellow students I had interactions with from other houses and such, sometimes lingering, most times , my eyes lingered for more than a moment on the Gryffindor table, and in that very line of vision, I could clearly make out Peter, James and Sirius.

I only saw the faces of the first two; Sirius had his back to me as they sat for their meal. As always, the sight of them in the dream was a much needed breath of fresh air. But they weren't up to their normal rambunctious attitudes. They were oddly silent, shoving food into their mouth more out of habit than need or satisfaction. Peter was the only one that looked slightly more as his normal self. I was able to notice his head twitch from side to side as he too, like me, looked around. At once his mouth began to move, and whatever he said was answered by James giving a tense nod.

I wondered at them for a while, even after I was not looking at them anymore for I was paying attention to whatever Lorcan was doing to me then; an atrocious gesture like kissing the side of my head, probably. It was disgusting just thinking about it, and I was glad I could distract myself with thinking about my friends. The Marauders' behaviour seemed strange, like they were amidst the most problematic prank they were about to pull, but it wasn't long until I realized the true nature of their attitude that day in the Great Hall. Remus wasn't with them and though there could be a million reasons as to why that was, my mind went to only one. The true one. I remembered with a frightful start that the fateful day had arrived finally in the dream. Remus was suffering the coming peak of his curse. It was to be the night of September's full moon.

If I had control over my body I would had lost it. The moment I had dreaded seeing again was soon approaching, and I had yet to wake up.

My gaze returned to my table, to find Lorcan standing up. His hand levitated in front of me, waiting to be taken, and my hand seemed to waste no time in meeting it. With his support, I got up, but at the last second control over my limbs evaded my past self, and my body swayed. My free hand used the table to steady myself, while the other one clutched on to Lorcan, who held me with concern in his eyes.

His concern over me would had made my heart quiver in delight, had I not known the monster that laid hidden behind his perfect looks and blond locks. "Are you alright?"

My head went up and down, the vision swirling slightly and almost giving the impression that what I was seeing would change. But it didn't. Lorcan Mulciber remained holding me, as the me in the dream explained what she thought was wrong with her. "I'm just dizzy."

Lorcan face was pinched in concentration, as if he thought I was lying or was unsure that I had any idea of what I was feeling.

I hadn't notice that back then, but Merlin I wished I did. Maybe that way his ill treatments later wouldn't have hurt as much. Though I knew I wasn't kidding anyone. Before the night of the full moon, I could had seen Lorcan do a killing curse and thought nothing of it.

"Carrow," He called over the table and Gemma immediately stood, as if her name alone had been a command. She had been sitting close, with the rest of the girls of my year, and at the call they all looked at me instantly. Their scrutiny when it came related to Lorcan was not something I enjoyed, and even in the dream I found myself looking away as Gemma made her way to my side. "Faraday isn't feeling well. Take her to rest. I need her to be in top shape for tonight."

"I'm fine." I pressed.

"I'm sure you are, my sweet." Lorcan's eyes held sweetness; a sticky, rotten expression that went well with him as he took my hand and kissed it. "Forgive me for not taking care of you. There's still much for me to do for the initiation."

As understanding as he played to be in front of me, I knew his truest color. I saw as my head went up and down again, accepting his excuses as if he was being considerate of me, and not abandoning me for his position in the Duelling Society. His words were, I had learned all too well, poison.

But that didn't matter, as I no longer could see him. In one moment, Gemma was grabbing hold of me to help me walk away and in the other she was letting me go to sit on what even a lazy look around was enough to recognize as my bed in our dorm.

"Will you be alright?" Gemma helped me get my feet on the bed. I laid on my side over the covers, and I wonder if it had even crossed my mind to pull them over me. Probably not. But Gemma eyed up and down the length of me giving me the impression that she might have had the thought. Thank the heavens she didn't. I was all up for friendly or sisterly even, compassion, however tucking into bed would have been borderline embarrassing. Maybe she thought the same thing. Her concern genuine or forced, was replaced by something I knew better, composed imposition of responsibilities and obligations. That, even past me would agree, was better than having my dorm mate shower me with attention like a Healer. "If you don't get initiated today you won't be able to attend the Society gatherings."

If I got to chose now, I would have rather never attend the damn Duelling Society. But as I watched the dream unfold, looking at Gemma through half glazed eyes, I realized it was inevitable, just as it was the moon's hold on me that particular night.

It was different that the rest of the other occasions I had been forced under her influence; I know that now since I remember well. I try to forget most times my monthly ventures with Lady Moon, but never will I forget the strength in which I was taken that September's full moon. My controlled senses were dwindling, my eyes blurred at any given moment, and my mind seemed to try to gently tear itself away from me, and leave my body behind as an empty husk. Much like my dream down memory lane felt, only that I still held a connection with my body as it was steadily racked through the night with sensations. They made me lightheaded, drunk, almost as if sick with fever; a gentle version of the agony I knew Remus must had been feeling that very moment.

That September night, the moon took a stronger hold on me than ever; I had always had the inkling that it had to do with the fact that it was the first time I was taken over. It was a matter than even though I had tried to ignore and keep myself from over thinking, it still managed to slip into my mind and I had arrived at a certain conclusion.

That night, the very night I now knew I was about to relive, was clouded with tragedy and pain because it was the first time that my body was allowed to fully take the moon's influence.

While I was in St. Mungo's Hospital, I had begun to feel the effects of the moon two times. Those occasions had been derailed afternoons for me, consumed by disrupting thoughts and drunken moves. In both cases, I received the attention of the Healers charged with my care, and with a particular strong sleep solution, I managed to stressfully sleep the moon off without walking the dark corridors of the Hospital.

So that now, as Gemma's standing figure went from clear to blurry, I knew I was feeling the heightened control of the moon. Morgana's blood was screaming from within me, begging to get out and be burned away with cold and gentle pale rays. However, that was not to happen. I would not feel the moon's light that night, not when I believed an hour or two of sleep would better my condition so to then attend the Duelling Society.

"Sleep will help, I'm certain." I said with a nod.

Gemma gave me a doubtful expression, though I didn't understand why. What did it matter if I was well or not? She had an obligation to take care of me, and there was nothing she could do to help me in that situation. The one thing she could do was take me to the Hospital Wing, and that would mean missing the initiation. And that would most possibly mean angering Lorcan. That would be the last thing Gemma would want. "I'll wake you later."

She blurred within my line of vision, and then completely disappeared when everything went dark.

The next I saw, I was walking through the common room. Gemma held on to my arm, in what I could see beyond the haze of my drunkenness. I couldn't feel the effects of the moon, but I could clearly see them. My vision no longer blurred, the moon giving way to inner senses to take hold and highlighted my average self. Everything appeared to be in its best resolution, jumping at me to demand my attention. Gemma's Prefect badge was one of those things. It shone with bright silver light, inviting to the touch with every engraved line placed upon it.

Watching the dream, watching how Lady Moon's influence took over my blood was definitely a surreal thing.

Gemma Carrow somehow still managed to lead me when I was sure that there was no one capable of controlling me in that state. Not unless I wanted to. Maybe, I did want the Prefect to lead me away. The full moon had arrived; I knew my blood would want to feel the gentle rays. That the lingering part of Morgana inside of me wanted to play. And that meant going outside. But that September, it was impossible to do so.

When I was pulled through the portrait hole to the rest of the school, Merlin called out for me. It was a concern call for my name, one that was ignored by the girl pulling me in her haste to get to the Duelling Society. But past me did hear and recognized my name. I looked back to watch the concerned face of the most famous Slytherin wizard and tried to raise a hand. My intention probably was to make him see that all was well, and for he to not worry, however, my state it had the opposite effect. His expression was unsettling for me to see now that I wasn't as high a dirigible. Merlin had seen something in me when I turned to wave at him, something startled him as he watched me go to a point I had never seen before. But I had no time to look at the painting clearly, as Gemma pulled me down that very same corridor in the dungeon levels of the castle.

Slytherin House, all students from fourth year to seventh were gathered for the initiation ceremony on the Duelling Society. Though it was a special occasion, everybody was dressed in casual robes, loitering around and waiting in excitement for the time honoured rituals to begin. I stepped into all that as an aberration, a strange wild thing that craved only for the embrace of the moon, and obviously I was stared at.

My vision morphed their faces together as I looked at them, and when only one face came into focus, it was Lorcan's.

And his face was not kind, not even to me as he went to grab my arm. "What's wrong?"

"The moon calls." I said in a voice that wasn't mine, but yet I recognized as my own. It was one of the many weird sensations I had felt when the full moon happened. My voice, though mine, was different slightly in a way I could never fully understand.

If Lorcan noticed the difference as I did, or he was just perturbed about my anything but rational answer, he didn't say anything, at least not to me. His unkind face went from acceptable to show his girlfriend, to full blow Death Plague under a second, as I watched his gaze jumped unto Gemma. Poor Gemma was sturdy and elegant enough to keep her head held up, as the intensity of the fires of hell were unleashed on her. Watching, though I felt bad for her, a little part in me was glad that for once the stare wasn't directed at me. No, not yet."What happened, she's worst?"

Gemma's eyes darted away from the intensity of hellfire as she shrugged in frustration. She was better at handling his hate than I ever was. Then again, Gemma had been under him for far longer than I had. They, as far as I knew, had only had a courteous relationship, one business-like of which depended Gemma's position among the House. If she lost that position she would lose the power she held in school, the power she held over everyone else beneath her.

Failing Lorcan Mulciber was something to be evaded like the plague, failing him was close to losing everything. But she wouldn't do that, not that night went I was the one meant for it. "She woke up like this. Maybe we should take her to the Hospital Wing."

"There's no time for that now." Lorcan spat unpleasantly at her, almost losing face in the presence of the Slytherin horde reunited around him. It was important that his girl was in opulent state, and I wasn't. My eyes more than once concentrated on his brows, as if I was trying to count the little blond hairs that I could barely see. I only stopped when he came close again, pulling me to him to be able to speak softly to me. Though his words weren't soft. Hearing them without the haze the moon calling my blood, his words were sharp and selfish. "Listen Faraday, I need you to power through this, alright? A lot depends on this night. We have to follow tradition to the dot. You have to play your part like the rest of us. After that, I'll take you to rest."

I nodded at him like I cared of what he said when that wasn't the case. I did not possess a care in the world in that condition.

"Watch over her." He commanded Gemma, in a horrible way and left to continue his duties.

It was the night the fourth year Slytherins were going to be initiated into the Duelling Society, and I was among them. Though their faces swirled from detailed to blurry, I knew they were busting with emotions, even if past me hadn't seen. The Duelling Society was a time honor tradition of the House of Salazar Slytherin; Lorcan, Mafalda, Gemma and a score of many other people had told me so. To be a part of it was the first step into the adult high society outside of Hogwarts, it was said. Therefore, of course, no one in their right mind could even dare to think to waste such an amazing opportunity.

The initiation consisted of two parts. The first one dealt with trust within the Society and its members. We were supposed to have a member perform the two nonlethal Unforgivable Curses on us. And that was simple enough to do, hell even in my drunkenness, I could already see and hear it happening. There were leering older students walking around, looking for a fourth year to be in need of their services as they held on to their wands, but luckily none of them dared come my way.

My gaze shifted between focus and swirls, and in the midst of it all Gemma was with me.

I had no way to tell how long we had been standing there. Maybe she even was still holding on to me, like earlier. I didn't know. Past me didn't react to her presence or her touch for me to be able to tell.

"I'll do the curses on you quick, and then—" I heard Gemma say and in the corner of my eye I saw the point of her wand. But my gaze, drunken to the point of causing nausea if I could feel it, finally went into focus, and I left the sixth year Prefect calling after me. "Where are you going?"

My steps weren't flimsy or derailed; they were sure and fast as I walked between a group of students that needed no word to make way for me. They parted as I passed, my eyes set on one particular person for some reason. I don't know why I went to him, to this day I still sometimes wonder, but Regulus Black turned when he noticed me approaching, ignoring Gemma's calls. He stood with his arms crossed, as he had been talking in a whisper with his friend Adrian Flint.

"Hello, Professor." I heard myself say to him without shame.

He stood with his friend, and he looked at me uncertain for a moment, probably noticing that I wasn't in a normal state. There was profoundness twice his age in his grey eyes as he tried to figure out what to do with me. Though the me in the dream was sure and unabashed about the situation the moon's influence caused, I couldn't help but feel the mortification. There I was, presenting myself to him in such an uncouth way, and he was gracious enough not humour me. I really owed Regulus more than I could imagine. As we were, even with Flint staring at me like I was something strange, the fifth year treated me like always, a smile breaking through the normal uninterested look he sported on his face. "Need help today too?"

My vision blurred again as I nodded.

My body was slightly shaking, I could tell, as I stood within the group of fourth years once again. The first part was done, and though I don't remember exactly what had happened, the fact that Regulus still talked to me every once in a while after that horrible night was proof that everything had gone well. He had performed the curses on me, and I don't remember feeling anything. Maybe I didn't even feel a thing, I had no way of knowing for a certain.

"And now," The dungeon filled with a breath of anticipation as Lorcan spoke over all of us. From where I stood, he looked as what he was, a figure of ultimate power. "The final test of our future members."

At his words, the doors to the room were opened by Peregrine Yaxley, the seventh year female prefect and Severus Snape. I saw as he made a gesture to whoever stood outside to come in, a mean smile plastered on his pasty face. There was a wave of whispers going about, ranging from surprised confusion to muffled excitement.

I stared at the arrivals, my vision shifting and reeling, but remaining at the scene at hand.

From the doors stepping to the room in pairs, came all the Slytherin first years. They were eye-wide, shyly looking around at the congregation they had now surprisingly joined. My line of view followed their march to the middle of the dungeon. All of the children were wearing their school robes, probably hastily and suddenly awoken in the night to take part in the initiation. As I watched them, their faces so young and fresh I wondered about myself. What would I had really thought, hadn't I been under the moon that night? Would had things been the same? Or would I have done differently?

Seeing them again, seeing them in a right mind made me wish I could vomit.

"Now, future colleagues," Lorcan said, his voice carrying over the silence of the room. Face washed with light, he sported a particular smile on his face that looking at it now frightened me as he stood in his best form. I knew that smile perfectly, I had felt it directed at me in many horrendous occasions. It was a smile that brought plagues and pestilences. "You will each chose one first year, it doesn't matter which and you will perform the two curses that were casted on you. And worry not; Peregrine here,"Lorcan pointed at the Prefect, who smiled with delight at being highlighted as she stood next to him. "Is particularly good at memory charms. With her expertise, the first years won't remember a thing; it'll be just a harmless nightmare come morning."

He still sported that atrocious smile as he finished his horrifying instructions. "Off to it then."

I was dumbfounded at having to see myself in that position, at having technically, to be again in that position. With the moon's influence, I had no way to be completely certain of what my emotions had been back then, but looking through my eyes was enough. I didn't move from my spot, all I did was look around and that was indicator enough that I was stunned at the whole thing. I watched eleven year olds begin to cry at the severity of the situation they were forced into, and some fourteen year olds shaking in their school robes. The older students knew that they had to do it, they had to be part of the Society, but the younger ones held hope at this being a joke. But one had only to look around to tell that wasn't the case.

Students from the higher years looked around waiting, mixtures of expressions loitering around the dungeon. There were nasty smiles, much like Lorcan's passing around, however those weren't much, and I was delighted to see that. Behind the students sporting nasty smiles, there were serious faces, red faces and regretful faces, all hiding from the limelight. There was even a fifth year girl clutching to her friend, her face buried in the embrace.

Maybe she was taken with emotion, or maybe she had a sibling in first year. Whatever the case, when none of the fourth years to be initiated moved to choose a first year, older students pushed the younger kids to partner up, regardless of the aversion within the two groups. The initiation of the Duelling Society was going to happened, whether anyone liked it or not. And the situation was mixed, but that didn't matter.

A scared little boy was set in front of me.

Big and wide hazel eyes stared at me unmoving, taking me in, pleading with me as they shook with fear. It seemed to me like we stared at each other for the longest time.

It made me wonder, staring at the young face of a boy I knew well, what was the basis of such a task, such a tradition that required the anguish of an innocent. It was done, surprisingly, without discrimination; it went against most thought within Slytherins. I knew the boy to be a pureblood, from the Sacred Twenty-Eight no less. Yet there he was. There was no basis to it. It wasn't bigotry directed at muggle-borns or traitors or those with tarnished blood. What did it teach? The first part of the initiation made sense. I understood it to be an act of trust, of one person willingly accepting pain as a fee to be a member of a close-knit group. This task was not that.

It was simply an act of villainy, proof that we could do anything without consequence, proof that we could do terrible things. And it appalled me to think that all that were present save the first and fourth years had gone through it. Gemma, Hestia even Lorcan had gone through it. Had they really? For how long had such a villainous activity taken place enough for it to be considered a tradition? Years? Centuries? Did Merlin partake in such an action when he stood in my place?

The thought was frightening.

"I don't think I can do this." A fourth year close to me admitted to the girl next to him, who impart held on to her wand tightly.

"We have to, Johnston." She said back to him, not afraid like he was.

I had wondered, many times like those two, what would have happened to me then if I wasn't out of my own control, if the moon didn't awoke Morgana's blood inside or me? Would I have been filled with doubt or fear as well? Would I spoken up against what was going to happen? Somehow I knew, and it filled me with shame, that should it had been a normal night, one in which the moon didn't play with the remnants of one of the ancestors in my blood, than I would have tentatively taken full part of the nights activities. I would have done what was expected and demanded from me by my fellow housemates. My place in Slytherin House would be much different now, and I would still be with Lorcan Mulciber.

Suddenly, all that I knew was soon to take place didn't seem as bad as it once had, not when it meant evading pestilence incarnated.

"What is your name, little one?" I heard myself say in that drunken voice that wasn't quite mine. The sound of it made the boy jump, even when his stare had never left me.

"G-gra-graham Row-wle." The little boy shook with every syllable he spoke.

All I could think of was of sweet Graham, who said hello to me even when he could tell the older students ignored me, even when the memories of the night had been thankfully taken from him. I had sat with him for meals more times that I ever did with Lorcan, or with my dorm mates, and far more than with my Gryffindor friends. Would I have been able to hurt him? The thought, if I could feel,was chilling.

"I will not hurt you, Graham Rowle. Not today, not ever. This I promise you." The words I uttered were the absolute truth. Much like the promise I had made to Remus that night when I faced him and his friends, I knew I meant them, and that I would keep them till my dying breath.

We stared at each other, and when I heard the first child cry out in pain I moved.

There was a blur as I went, leaving Graham as I pushed people to the side with a determination of movement and step that wasn't mine. Morgana's blood, burning with the moon's influence propelled me, fished my wand from within my robes and raised it up. My arm curved differently as I held the wand and sent a jet of grey light to the fourth year that had dared begin the last part of the initiation. I had no idea which spell or hex I had used, but chains erupted from my wand, clasping themselves to the boy's wrists and ankles. The ones around him turned to look at me, my sudden action and the duelling expertise that was not mine but Morgana's, got their attention.

"Faraday," I heard someone utter softly afraid, as if with the name they were urging me to control myself. It was one of my dorm mates, I knew, yet which one I couldn't tell. I looked around, probably looking for my next target and I recognized no one. Eyes of every color stared at me standing, wild and unhinged with forces none of them would ever know of or look around brought my attention to the instigator of everything, and Lorcan standing ever still and tense, was staring at me.

"Children should never be hurt." I said to him in particular, confident and strong as I uttered what at that moment I knew was cosmic truth.

His shoulders were impossibly straight, his body looking long as he stood not too far from me, taken from the middle of giving further directions to a group of students. Green eyes flashed with confusion for a second before he took a step toward me, tentatively, as I knew I had caught him by surprise. "What are you doing, my sweet?"

"This is wrong." My voice carried out evenly and as clear as a lute, almost giving the impression that there was no other sound to disrupt me. The words I spoke seemed to carry over the room, and more than once I saw how fellow Slytherins moved to get a better look of me. And the scene I was making.

There was panic in Lorcan's expression, just a tad, as he realized exactly that. I was making a scene; a scene in front of our House, and most devastating, against him. I was going against him, and that would never sit well with Lorcan Mulciber. Unfortunately for me, I didn't know that back then, nor do I think it would have matter. Taking another uncertain step, I saw his gaze look around and when his eyes shone with hardness, he began to make his way to me faster. "Let's talk in the corridor."

Urgency laced in his voice, but not the good kind. He was commanding me, trying to hide his pestilence from emerging against me in front of everyone. After all, it was one thing to be seen as vile, and another to be seen the same toward his girlfriend.

"I will not stand idly while you hurt innocent children." I said with conviction as my vision remained sorely on him.

He came directly at me, Snape and Gertrude's cousin Gregor Goyle, among others, scrambling away from his path. Reaching me didn't take him long; Lorcan grabbed my upper arm, pulling on it as he intended to keep walking away with me. "Come with me outside."

But I didn't let him do with me as he pleased.

"Do not touch me! No man should ever touch me." It was alarming, the shrill disgust and anger with which I reacted. As he pulled, so did the me in the dream, violently detaching my arm away from him, and taking a step back. His eyes and face, when he turned back to me, were frozen. Lorcan stared back at me incredulous that I could ever go against him. And honestly, I would have stared at myself the same way. But Morgana had more to say. "I know the likes of you. You are just like him."

I was speaking of things I barely even understood now, yet that didn't matter. That I was referencing people, and by people, I probably meant Merlin, was of no consequence. The quarrels of my ancestors didn't matter, not when Lorcan stared, taking my words as his. And in the dream, I also bestowed them upon him. For months after that night, I had hated myself for the things I had said to him, wished that I could take them back, but now watching I gladly took responsibility over them and stood by them. They were the ultimate truth for me or for anyone and if I could say them again to him, I bloody would."My feelings for you give you no right over me. You are not that powerful."

As proud as I was now about the words I said in a state that was out of my control, they changed Lorcan dramatically. They were the turning point, the last straw, the step over the point of no return and Mulciber looked the part. Looking as impeccably as always and standing as every bit the pure-blooded wizard of a noble family, Lorcan was unmoving. His arms, once raised to hold on to me, were lowered to his sides. The tenseness of his shoulders was gone for the moment, and with his reaction, a perturbing silence fell upon the dungeon. Staring at him, challenging his hold on power, I could see a tempest forming in his eyes. Those green orbs that I once adored, the ones that I still sometimes looked into thinking them to be the most beautiful sight in the world, were now burning with the fires of hell at me.

"This is an honoured tradition of our House." Though a great fire loomed, Mulciber's voice was void of emotion, as he still regarded me.

"Then our House is putrid." My words resounded, unforgiving and critical and of all the things that Morgana forced me to say that night, those were the only ones I would take back. The House of Salazar Slytherin may be corrupted and brimming with malice, but that was the fault of a few. A few idiot witches and wizard that had taken power to their heads and gave our house a bad name. That was all.

A wave of murmurs erupted in answer to my words. Lorcan took a step away, stunned, but I wasn't done, yet.

"All of you are a stain to wizardkind." I looked around to all those that surrounded me. My housemates. My fellow Slytherins, who stared at me confused. They would never understand what was happening to me, much like I will never know the full capacity of Morgana's blood inside of me. Other than the fact that they were willing to partake in such an atrocious act for the sake of fitting in, they weren't at fault, not with what was happening to me. Not with what was going to happen between Lorcan and I. The spur of the moment still burning, I turned back to my boyfriend, our leader and my first love, who even after that night I adored for months. "And you—"

Whatever my next insult had been was lost as in a flash of movement; Lorcan had his wand out and pointed at me.

An astounding gasp broke through the dungeon as feet scampered, but Mulciber did not look at the students around us, like my gaze did. No, he stared at me only, with the green fires of hell in his eyes and virulent disease emanating from his presence. Lorcan attacked before the me in the dream had the instinct to raise up my wand in defense.

The shot sent me down to my knees, a circle of students edging back. Their faces jumbled up and collided against each other within my vision, an extensive array of expressions and emotions that I was incapable of pinpointing. If there was fear in them, or malice or concern or a lack of care for a member from their House, it was impossible for me to know. Mouths moved all around me; there was a torrent of voices speaking, crying out in different ways, but I wasn't able to hear them. When the curse hit me, the shock rendered me useless to all except clutching myself. I watched my body cope with the pain Lorcan had cause me, remembering vividly even with my monthly delirium, the waves of destructive power coursing through me, bruising every part they came in contact with.

When I looked back at my attacker, his wand was still pointed at me, ready to fire yet again. His eyes shone with a mix of emotion I was familiar with, hate and frustration shinning through like the light of the sun he was capable of emanating. I would see more of that expression in the coming months, and though I knew I would survive the night and the rest, I was still filled with dread. If I wasn't dead, and I would eventually wake from the dream, would I ever be able to get over my infatuation over Lorcan Mulciber?

As I watched him, a part of me feared that he would be the only love I would ever know for stupidly at that moment that was what came to my mind. Would I remain stuck on him for however long I had left to live?

Though it was a thought I had muddled over in my head for more than I cared to admit to myself, I forgot about it instantly. Still on the floor watching and waiting for another attack apparently, I saw Regulus Black emerged from behind Lorcan. I wondered why the blood of Morgana didn't react to protect me from the danger she had put me in, to the point that a boy I barely knew had to stand up for surely had nothing to fear from Lorcan. Mulciber may have been in power then, but within Slytherin House a member of the Black family could dethrone him should it be necessary. It was evident in how the fifth year placed his hand on the shoulder of the Prefect, pulling him back and saying something into his ear. But like all, I couldn't even be close to hearing what was said, and whatever it had been was ignored.

But I saw as Mulciber stared at only me, shrugging violently away the hand that wanted to stop him. He said something, and two of the older boys, Niles Burk and Ivan Rosier grabbed Regulus and pulled him out of my eye sight. To his credit, Regulus struggled against his captors as he was taken away. For that and trying to help me, as he always did, I would always be grateful to him.

Again I watched my body twist in what could only be pain as once again I was assaulted. My vision shook and a nod from Lorcan made everything worst. The gesture made Peregrine Yaxley step forward from the circle line, and with her wand also out, she fired at me.

I felt to the side, twisting on the stone floor with pain that I was glad I couldn't feel it. The last thing that I would ever want was to feel those curses on me again, burning through my flesh and bone. And that curse brought back my hearing. It began slowly, but the sounds of the room began to dawn on me, though the Slytherins weren't causing a racket. No, they whispered amongst themselves, every now and then a sob escaping from a child or more.

In that, I heard myself speak in that weird and wonderful voice that was both mine and someone else's entirely. "Thy House has fallen, Merlin; cold and corrupted."

If it was an answer to mywords, or the next planned move against me, I would never want to know, but four wands rose. If there were more, I did not see. Before they collided with their mark, me, the room shone with stunning light. Then everything went completely dark.

My eyes opened again and I knew where I was.

The room was hazy and I knew I wasn't seeing well, but there was no mistaking it. I was inSt. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. My heart quickened at the prospect of finally waking up from the dream. The reliving of my life was finished and I was still indeed alive. And maybe, just maybe, I could move on with my life. I would go back to Hogwarts, my friends and my schoolwork. I don't think there was anything I wanted more. But as my gaze cleared to perfection, I knew that wasn't the case. I had sat up yet I had no control or feel over my body, my heart had certainly not quickened, and most importantly, all that I saw was in grey and white and black.

I was still in the bloody dream.

Before I could even think straight, both in the dream and inside my mind, the room was invaded with people. Head Healer Pyek, Trainee Alessia, Dumbledore, Mr. McPhail, the office worker in charge of my case and even the Minister for Magic, Harold Minchum came one after the other. Cramped in my hospital room, I was subjected into an interrogation, one in which the Minister demanded an explanation of what happened.

He was not happy with me. "I merely ask that we extract justice from where is due. Now is not the time to protect the guilty, Miss Nolan. Not when you are concerned."

"Justice for what?" I told the man. Minchum was an old; bald under his pointy blue hat with two wispy locks of white hair behind both ears. His face had hard lines, proof of the long life he had lived, and although menacing looking, were easy to transform into laugh lines. Somehow he had managed to get into my good graces, and I think that it had mostly to do that even though he sported the old wizard look, like Dumbledore and Merlin, he hadn't a care in the world about getting into my head. His view on me was more political and as of then his method was to keep me hidden, a fact that I didn't mind.I enjoyed his company and talks on the handful of times he had visited me in the hospital before I started school. Lying to him hadn't felt too great, considering that he was paying for my education. Not he out of his own pocket of course, but his administration made sure I had everything I needed, even if it was of second-hand. The problem, at that particular moment in the hospital, was exactly what he had said; I was protecting the guilty, idiot that I was. "I was studying and everything began to hurt. It has to do with Merlin's blood knowledge."

My excuses had never been too amazing or well thought of; in the future if ever I leave the confines of the dream, I'll talk to James or Remus about giving me pointers. James's excuses barely ever worked, but they were imaginative, and I was a capable liar most times. And Remus could talk his way out of a lot of things, except obviously out Marauder mischief. I couldn't go wrong with asking for their help.

When I eventually did look up, it was to stare at Dumbledore, not the Minister. The room was empty of everyone else and the Headmaster sat on a chair next to my bed. It was eerily similar to many other occasions in St. Mungo's, in which he sat on that very chair next to me always.

"You will not speak the truth?"

I didn't say anything, how could I when everything I had accomplished in my first weeks in Hogwarts was tarnished? There was no changing what had happened, I knew that then as I know it now. Lorcan, my dorm mates, and the other Slytherins, I did not know where I stood with them or what awaited me when I got back to Hogwarts. At that moment sitting in that bed in the sodding Hospital, all I could do was maintain house loyalty. If I spoke against Lorcan, I would have to speak against Slytherin House, and I wasn't about to do that. I couldn't say anything.

"I found a journal." The change of topic had irked me when it first happened, but seeing it again I was not surprised. The scholar side in Dumbledore always won over the side that was supposed to be morally practical and responsible. From within his robes, a stunning array of rich greens and blues, the wizard pulled out a tattered book. He held it with gentle hands as he stared at it with bespectacled eyes. "It dates back to the Middle Ages, written by Herno Brangwyn, a contemporary of Merlin." I was staring at him as again I said nothing. The journal did make me curious, but whether it was the situation I was in or his interest had me looking away. My lack of interest or attention didn't belittle him. He went on with the same spirit he had begun with. "There's a curious entry on the January of 1093. It speaks of the full moon and its affinity to Merlin's apprentice."

"Merlin had an apprentice?" The words left me instantly, the topic too surprising to ignore.

"He did. Morgana was her name." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in that way of his, probably happy at having gotten my attention, just as he had intended when he revealed the book. If I could feel or see myself, I was sure I was mortified, struggling to keep my composure. "Have you heard of her?"

Though I'm sure I would have liked nothing more than to ignore the Headmaster, I was already invested. Not only had Morgana been a topic that I had been silently curious about since I first heard the name, it was also the perfect excuse to ignore what had just happened to me. I suppose it wasn't the right thing to do, to protect the Duelling Society and all its members, yet I had to do it. So, I shook my head to Dumbledore.

If the Headmaster of Hogwarts truly could see into my mind like I always thought he could, he made no indication of knowing that past me was ignoring the fact that Merlin had called me by that name before. Maybe the mind reading was part of my imagination. "She was a famous dark witch; exceptionally talented and one of the first fulltime prisoners of Azkaban."

I looked down to my hands before I spoke."Why she was sent there?"

"Much like this affinity to the moon," Dumbledore said pointing to the journal and what he claimed was written in it. My eyes lingered on it more than it was polite to do so. Having the Headmaster talk about what Herno Brangwyn wrote was fine, but having the book in my hands would have been ten times better. It took me a moment to remember that after the very conversation I was having with Dumbledore, he would loan me the same book for me to read. "It is not widely known of her attraction to Magizoology. Prominently above her numerous dark creations, is the Lycanthropy curse. She used her own blood for its making. Her involvement with a pandemic of werewolves was the main reason as to why Merlin took the law into his hands and stopped her. "

"And imprisoned her in Azkaban." I finished for him. Though I couldn't remember my thoughts on that back then, the tension of the sudden topic of Morgana being brought up was palpable. Dumbledore looked at me as if he was waiting for me to say something in particular, but what it was I'll never know. "But what does she have to do with me?"

"I find it curious, that you suffer alone an accident outside Slytherin House on the night of a full moon." Even though he had a wistfully wayward expression in his face, Dumbledore's eyes shone down on me with ice blue light. There was no escaping that stare, and in the edge of my vision I saw my hands hold on to the sheets covering my lap. "It could be nothing, of course, but why were you out after hours? Why wasn't Merlin surprised that something happened to you on such a night, when I went to question him? And most importantly, but perhaps unrelated, why does every member of your House now pretend like you don't exist?"

Clearly the excuse I gave the Minister had no effect on the Headmaster. Maybe he could read minds after all and I was only deluding myself to feel better. The me in the dream made a good effort to keep my voice even, though I had more than once notice my body shake with tension. "So you think I have a connection with Morgana because fell I sick on the full moon night?"

Dumbledore's words were sharp, not hurtful, but completely straightforward to the fact that he knew the truth and nothing I did could make him change his mind. "Do not try to mislead me, Faraday. Everybody that has come into this room knows you were attacked, the question is why you insist on protecting your attacker and lie." Surprisingly and to my immense relief he let that subject drop after he spoke. I knew why he did it, and though now it got me disgusted, I was grateful for it. To Dumbledore, the scholar and professor, Merlin and Morgana were a far more fascinating subject to talk to me about than my safety inside his school. He pointed again to the book. "This book claims that Merlin took a child from Azkaban and that he himself admitted to Brangwyn that it was a child from his own blood."

Past me stared, unmoving.

"And the only woman imprisoned was Morgana." Dumbledore seized the momentum of his narration, every syllable lanced with power. "Brangwyn claims Merlin and Morgana were lovers in addition to teacher and student." He went on, pleasantly edging in his seat even when his words were not going to be pleasant to me. "It is my profound belief, that you are the descendant of both of them. And that just as you inherited your blood knowledge from Merlin, Morgana has also bestowed upon you gifts. That being said, I require a favour of you, Faraday. I need you to tell me everything that occurred the night of the fullmoon."

No way was I going to do that. No bloody way I did that or even considered it. And honestly, after all past me had heard from the wizard it would be a surprise should I had said anything. Finding out I was related to this witch, who happened to be renowned as well, was nerve-wracking. Unlike Headmaster Dumbledore, who believe me to descend form her from speculation and research; I knew that connection to be a fact. I did have an affinity to the moon. Merlin had called me mistakenly Morgana. Presently, I could add werewolves to the mix. I had walked with one for a handful of nights, and the creature had done no harm to me. Remus had admitted it himself that he could feel a connection between us.

I didn't say anything. I don't think I was capable of it, even if I had any intention to do so. Yet the Headmaster waited patiently for an answer he wasn't going to get and as I stared at him he swung to the side, disappearing.

The scene changed and I was no longer in my usual room in St. Mungo's. The Great Hall was decorated by hundreds of different sized pumpkins, so I figured October was already underway. My vision turned lopsided for a moment, threatening to faze out, but after a couple seconds it didn't. It remained and I was able to notice that I was sitting near the edge of the Slytherin table, to the side closest to the door. One look up from my barely touched plate of food was enough for me to see that I was sitting among the first years.

Their minds had been obliviated, just as Lorcan had promised, and it was between them that I found a place to sit. Next to the boy from the initiation; next to Graham, who sat with Anne and Marcus talking about their Flying Lessons. What he thought of me sitting there, I couldn't know unless I was alive and asked him, but in the dream he hadn't seemed to bother. I was still a stranger to him then, just the weird sixth year that sat around him because she had no other place to sit. Up the table and from older year students I could see obvious glaring sent my way. I was eyed with repulsion, hate and animosity at various levels, and its effect on past me was evident. A glance to my plate, showed me pushing my food around with a fork as normal eleven year old chatter surrounded me. My vision rocked to the side, and I half expected to find myself somewhere else, but I had looked up. Meeting eyes with Hestia she mouthed something I couldn't hear or understand.

She did it two more times, from the other side of the table, and it wasn't until the third that I could recognized her pitch of voice, disgusted as she spoke at me. "Touch me again and I'll hex you, Far-a-way."

I was scrambling away from her as best as I could without losing face, suddenly realizing that I was standing in one of the many arch hallways of Hogwarts. My eyes centred on Hestia's hand, as she pointed her wand at me, but around her I could see we had been waiting to get into the Charms classroom. The scene had changed in a way that alarmed me, taking me completely by surprise. Scanning around her, I could see various students of other houses looking at our exchange with mild curiosity, and to the side stood Severus Snape with the rest of the Slytherin boys of our year. He gave me a spiteful sneer as his eyes went from me to Hestia's wand, and I saw myself turn abruptly away from them all.

Only to run into the middle of the common room.

It was an odd feeling to be under the scrutiny of so many pairs of eyes that I was glad I could not feel it. If my face was warm I didn't know; if my heart hammered with mortification, I gladly couldn't tell, though it must have.

Caught it what I knew was a lazy night after dinner, the common room seemed to have been in a jovial attitude just before I had randomly appeared. Students had sat in relaxed poses around the various fires around the room, and many more were huddled up in groups playing wizard games or doing homework or discussing their favourite topics. I seemed to ruin all of that by existing, or at least it looked that way. All because I stood up to a Prefect and refused to do a horrid house tradition, while I had no control over my body.

And speaking of a certain Prefect, my eyes found him immediately.

Lorcan sat in front of a wizard chest table. His opponent was one of the students that hadn't turned to stare at me, probably too engrossed in his next move to care. Unlike Mulciber. At the sight of me, he leaned back on his seat, eyes set on me only as he wore an expression that asked for challenge. I did not answer. Past me was petrified, there was no possible way for me to do anything, not when Lorcan looked at me like I had betrayed him and like I deserved all the animosity I was getting at that moment. That way, he was making sure that I wouldn't meet his challenge.

To my regret, I hurried to my dorm doing exactly what he wanted. Running away from his challenge of power.

As the door to my dorm room opened, I came face to face with someone. Mafalda was suddenly standing in front of me, and I hadn't even noticed, again that the scene in the dream had changed once more. I was holding a notebook, the one in which I normally compiled all the notes I took during Care for Magical Creatures. I kept one for every class though I normally never took them out of my dorm. "Would you review the nifflers diet with me?"

My N.E.W.T.S classes had been abysmal to get back into, and at least for a couple minutes per hour, I would lose my mind over it. I could remembered, that it was around that time when I began to sleep and eat less to the point that Madam Pomfrey had to observe me during meals to make sure I wasn't skipping. So that I had gone to Mafalda for help wasn't a surprise. I had done that throughout my first weeks in Hogwarts. Mafalda Bole was probably one of the smartest people I knew. And the pressure on me was intense, to the point that I had nosebleeds almost every day; really no surprise at all that went to her.

Sporting her most aristocratic expression of disinterest, Mafalda declined my offer by giving me her back just before she disappeared in a whiff of yellow smoke.

I stared.

Yellow smoke was coming out of my cauldron as I distinctly heard myself blow it away so I could see the liquid I was brewing. My potion, I couldn't tell which for I was sure it wasn't supposed to be yellow in the slightest, hissed and bubbled as I stirred it.

"You're doing the wrong potion." Next to me, Gemma said seemingly unperturbed when I turned to her.

A breath got caught up in my throat, loud enough for me to recognize it as an anguished grunt of frustration. One of my hands went up to my head, maybe to rest on my forehead or comb back loose strands of hair. My eyes went from my caldron to Gemma's and the ingredient she was adding to it, urgently. My free hand rested on my Potions book, which I happened to have near the middle of the table. "Which one are we supposed to make?"

Gemma did not answer, not then, not in real life, I remembered. Not even when blood began to ooze from my nose and I had to excuse myself to run to the restrooms.

My vision blurred, thinned, shifted and then expanded, stranding me in the middle of the staircase that led down to the dungeon levels of the school. I was climbing down next to Professor Slughorn, who was entangled in a very detailed praise of my academic situation. He offered McGonagall's name in a flash of words, and I remembered that night. Because I was recently out of St. Mungo's and for being my Head of House, he had accompanied me to the office of the Transfiguration teacher. We were supposed to discuss my position in school and my general performance in my classes to assess the best possible way to help me take control of the term. I was abysmally behind, and after my visit to the hospital it didn't seem like I was remotely close to getting back to my previous ascending academic position.

I don't remember exactly what I said to her, or to the Potions teacher, but I'm sure I tried to pretend like there wasn't anything wrong with me. After that, Slughorn walked me back to the dorm, as our conversation had edge over curfew.

"I'll find you a tutor if you like, dear girl. Severus or Mafalda would do nicely." Professor Slughorn went on to say, his normal cheerful self resounding under the candle light stone walls even at that hour. My gaze never went to him to see his expression; all I looked at were my feet and how they went down each step one at a time.

I didn't notice if I declined his offer before we got to the portrait, but the fact that I never got any tutoring was enough to figure out that I must have.

I gave Merlin a nod before uttering the password and thankfully he said nothing. That was probably due to the fact that Slughorn was present. Maybe I should ask the professor more often to walk me to the House, that way I could prevent conversation with Merlin whenever I was annoyed by him. Merlin's eyes were hard on me as I stared, saying goodnight to Slughorn and waiting for the painting to reveal the passage to the Slytherin common room.

More than Slughorn's presence I remembered, there was a silent agreement between my ancestor and I, one that I was sure originated from Slytherin House pride, in which we did not speak of the Duelling Society and what it had done to me.

I expected for the dream to shift again and the vision to change, yet it didn't. Going though the portrait hole, I walked into the common room to find it empty, except for one person. In all honesty, for I had forgotten for a second, I wasn't surprised that Lorcan Mulciber was standing there. It wasn't the first time he suddenly appeared, and it pained me to watch the me in the dream come to a halt at the sight of him. It would not be the last time my ill-fated luck would place him in my path. Or me in his rampaging course of destruction.

At that very moment, he was talking to Peeves. Well, chastising him, more like. The poltergeist hanged from a chandelier with his legs, not that it was really necessary, and had been caught in the act. Had it been to anyone else, Peeves would had already insulted the person trying to discipline him or blown a raspberry, but since it was Lorcan Bloody Mulciber, he hanged making faces, fighting his natural unyielding nature to dish out trouble.

"… If you want to cause mischief, Peeves, do it in another House." The Prefect said and when the poltergeist made no attempt to jump or glide off the chandelier, Lorcan assumed a dark tone. Of that I was familiar with hearing now, but in the time of the dream I had barely heard yet, and only once slightly directed at me. It was icy, riddled with disease and prepared to commit atrocious acts. "Should I get the Baron?"

That got the desired effect. Peeves stopped what he was doing and glided up to leave through the ceiling.

Lorcan turned to find me staring. Hair tied back and his Prefect badge still pinned to his school robes were indicators enough that he had just come from his last rounds of the night. The empty common room with its high ceilings and rich tapestries, radiated with Lorcan's presence, even when his eyes shone with sudden surprise and then intense stare might have been the reason why the me in the dream bolted from a petrified state.

I tried to hurry away to my dorm. Though I made it to the door, a hand griped my own as I went to turn the handle. My stare was down, I could see with grey and white detail as his large hand covered my own, his veins bulging as pressure was most likely applied to my hand.

Cornered and pinned to the door, Lorcan made me look at him. The action had been violent; I remembered well how he had gripped my shoulder to push me back. The shoulder would pain me after, since he had pushed it forcibly against the stone wall next to the door.

"I'm waiting for your apology." His words were acid dripping from his mouth and unto my face with nothing in between to help me protect myself. Though his expression was not to its full evil capacity, it was still alarming to see how close he was to it. I would not wish Lorcan's hate on my enemy, so obviously the last person I wanted to suffer it was myself. "I'm sure being the center of ill attention in our House is not pleasurable, and I'm a generous man. Apologise, come back to me and it'll be like nothing happened."

Though it hurt, and at that time all that I wanted was his forgiveness, I didn't do as he asked. It was evident in my mind that I had to keep the pretences of what had happened. Dumbledore and his questioning had been a sort of example to me. If I spoke the truth, it would have to be the whole truth, and to Lorcan there were things I was ordered by the Ministry to not tell. Basically, my connection to Merlin, and now Morgana was out of the question. And if I did tell Lorcan, I relented because of the force of my infatuation with him, it would lead to questioning. And questioning would leave me to have to reveal it all, if I wanted to fix what had been broken during the initiation of the Society. And regrettably, I didn't have all the answers to that. Explaining to Lorcan would require every answer, and even with what Dumbledore told me, no one would understand.

Regardless of my feelings, of wanting Mulciber back as my boyfriend or to have the respect of my fellow Slytherins, I couldn't bring myself to talk. Lorcan and the rest of my House could never know that what I did that night was involuntary, caused by the remnants of my dark witch of an ancestor in my blood. Hell, the way my luck worked they might have even started calling me dirty-blooded."You sent me to the hospital. Something did happen."

The tone of my voice was soft, hurt and accusatory as I looked down to our feet. Lorcan's feet edged closer to me, and I suddenly looked up. He had grabbed my shoulders, his eyes intense hellfires as a second later he shook me. The shock of his violent behaviour was still new to me, and I whimpered. That only made him angrier. "You went against me, against the rules of our House!"

"Hurting children is not right!" A sob escaped me, as my eyes shut to escape the reality of what I was living. Poor me held on to that fact, to that explanation of hurting children to justify my actions, when it fact it didn't matter. In my heart I knew that the only reason I had taken action to protect the first years was because of my delirious state during the full moon. I remembered that past me wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth, pledge myself to him so long as he would forgive me, but I couldn't. I had to keep the secret, as much as I believed I love him.

Lorcan, though I couldn't see him since dream me had close my eyes, didn't appear to be fazed by my point. He spoke to me with cold indifference, as if I was a stranger he had to instruct in the ways of our House. And the truths in his words were enough to make me want to get sick. "We all had to go through it. Slytherin students have done this for years! Who are you to change our traditions?"

"I am no one."

"Am I no one to you?" Suddenly, his voice was as sweet as pudding, and my eyes fluttered opened. Though he still had a hand on one of my shoulders, his face had softened, and the intensity of his eyes had gone back to normal. Like before the initiation. "You did this, but my feelings haven't changed, have yours?"

I said nothing and Merlin's beard, I wondered at how I was able to do it.

"Apologize," Lorcan said sternly, determined to get me to do it. "Explain yourself and everything will go back to the way it was, I guarantee it."

Past me might have considered doing as he said, in the time we had been together, he had always managed to get me to apologize. If it were me now, I would have ignored him simply for the fact that he was demanding my apology. However, the me in the dream knew that asking for forgiveness would also require an explanation, and that I wouldn't do. Not to the Minister himself, not to Dumbledore and not to Lorcan Mulciber. And so my eyes left the nasty expression inches from my face, to stare at the other side of the common room.

It made me wonder, how many times I would end up doing just that in the hopes that Mulciber would lose interest in tormenting me. It never worked.

I don't know what he saw in my face, but it was enough to bring the green fires of hell back into his eyes. Though this time he didn't shake me, he slammed his hand unto the door, hitting the spot next to my head. The sound rippled though the silence of the rest of Slytherin House, but if someone heard, they deliberately chose to ignore it, not that it mattered. The force of his blow and the vibrations of the door made me jump, my eyes returning to his as he yelled. "Say something!"

The only answer I had was a whimper.

"How could you do this to me?" There was an alarming side to his voice that I dared not take into consideration. All I had saw and noticed was in the past, and the titbit would not change my mind about Lorcan, yet I could had sworn I heard defeat in him. The thought was alarming, and unnecessary. After he spoke, Lorcan let go of me, his arms hanging limp on his sides and he turned around. Without a look back, he went into his dorm.

A sob left me and then another, filling the common room as I slipped to the floor. It wouldn't be the last time I would cry because of Lorcan Mulciber, but certainly, I would never again cry for the lost of the relationship we had. Dark days awaited me after that night, and it would be a while before I allowed myself to ignore my feelings in favour of other activities. Mainly studying for class, or researching Merlin, and eventually becoming friends with Lily and the Marauders. A long while seemed to past as my cries echoed in the common room.

It wasn't until I suddenly looked up that I realized that my sobs were not sobs anymore, neither were they mine. At some point, the sound of my crying had died out and immediately after became the laughter of the wind.

The darkened corridors of Hogwarts ended to reveal the gentle cold light of the night and I knew Lady Moon had me under her effects again. My naked feet, hidden under the hem of my white nightgown, left the security of the stone floors of the castle. Black grass danced to the wind's laughter as the moon beckoned. She shinned brightly over the landscape of the Forbidden Forest, as I stood, swaying out on the grounds of Hogwarts, watching.

I floated in the spot for what seemed the longest time, and I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the scenery. Even with the limited colours between white and black, the Forest looked as stunning as ever. However, I attributed my contemplation to the fact that it was the very first time I was seeing it. With the pure rays of the moon touching my bare skin, taking hold of me completely for the first time, I'm sure that even in that drunken state, I needed a moment to come into my own. My most intimate self was finally free, and the possibilities as to what to do were endless. However, I didn't need much initiative on what to do. The option was taken from past me, but I didn't mind.

A sound had broken through the wind, distant, yet strong. It was the howl of a strange creature, calling unto the moon, falling prey to her, much as I had.

Without a thought or hesitation, I glided down to the Forest. To the creature that called.

AN: And we've come full circle.

I hope this compensated for the hype I built of 'September' since the first chapters. This was in my mind from the beginning so maybe it might not seem as severe as it should be, but I found it to be alright.

There will be no more flashback chapters. If there should be anymore, it'll be in a long while, I'm guessing. I have a couple of plot holes that I haven't filled, so if needed I'll fill them in with flashbacks. However, that wont happened any time soon, as far as I'm into the plot. My original plan for this flashback was to put it all in two chapters, and now see what I've done. I have more than 33,000 words written. I'VE GONE F**KING CRAZY!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this four parter. I took long to get here and post but here we are. Now, on to what happened to our girl after her fight.