Platform 9 and ¾'s. Even now, all these years after the fall of muggle civilisation, it was still the location for the Hogwarts Express; it was tradition, after all, much like the Leaky Cauldron being one of the main entrances to Diagon Alley for those that disliked apparating.

The train station itself was… not what she was expecting. She'd expected rusted, broken down trains to be clogging the rails, but instead the tracks were clean and empty, the rails a gleaming silver. The building itself was like new, no wear and tear that would be expected.

She and Su passed through the brick column leading to the platform, a feeling a rushing air brushing over them; coming out on the other side, Morgan saw a nostalgic sight.

The Hogwarts Express sat upon the tracks, belching steam into the air as its dark red paint gleamed beyond the bustling crowds. The sight gave Morgan so many feelings of nostalgia she could barely understand her feelings. How long had it been since she had seen a working muggle vehicle? Far too long, that was for sure.

Families were crowding the platform; the train wouldn't set off for a while yet, so parents were grabbing as much time with their kids as they could.

"Well, Su, welcome to platform 9 and ¾'s. What do you think?" she asked, smiling at Su.

Su was looking around, eyes shining with curiosity and excitement. "It's great, I can't believe we're going to Hogwarts" she said.

Oh Morgan wished she could be that excited. Unfortunately, they would be spending eight hours on that train. Eight hours in a small compartment with - possibly- some other eleven year olds. Urgh, she was gonna end up killing someone.

A pinch at her arm, and Morgan turned her ire on Su who was frowning slightly in return. "You look like you're about to give me a really hard test. We're going to Hogwarts, you shouldn't be grumpy."

Morgan rubbed her arm, for a moment her thoughts promising vengeance with the harshest test she could imagine, before she sighed and let it go. "You're right. Well, come on then, if we're lucky no annoying brats will join our compartment." Picking up her trunk, she dragged it behind her as Su followed.

As they were about to board the train, she was distracted by a commotion at the entrance to the platform. Red robed men and women were flooding the platform, cutting a path through the crowd.

Aurors. That could only mean one thing. She tapped Su on the shoulder and they both waited a moment, watching as the Aurors took stock of the platform, one of them casting unseen spells. Eventually a male nodded and a moment later, the Minister stepped through the barrier.

Morgan's eyes were first caught by Draco Malfoy, his blonde hair slicked back and black robes immaculate. But it was his face that most caught her attention. It was turned in an arrogant sneer as he looked at the people on the platform, his nose turned up at them.

Well, Morgan was right not to judge Draco before she had even met him. He wasn't like his canon personality.

He was worse, his father being the minister must have gone to his head for him to look at everyone as though they were dirt without even knowing them.

But then, then she gave her attention to the figure next to him. Lucius Malfoy, looking regal with his perfectly straight long hair and silver robes, every inch the perfect noble. He walked with a black cane clacking with each step against the stone floor throughout the now silent crowd, his right hand gripping the top, covered by a white glove.

His one hand.

His left arm was missing from below the elbow, a fact he was not shy in showing off. A sign of his regret. As though he would ever regret actions that gave him so much power, that accomplished what she supposed was his main goal, wiping out muggles.

Morgan glared at him. She hadn't forgotten what the man had done, that was for sure. Take his son and make him watch

She shook off her anger, entering the train. She couldn't afford to let herself get so angry all the time, especially when there was nothing she could do about her anger. Let the Minister strut about like a King; she would wait and watch. And once she was strong enough, the Minister would find the ground crumbling beneath his feet.

They found an empty compartment, levitating their trunks onto the racks above. Strong, a child's body was not. Her wand still seemed to only accept the very best from her, only the most precise of movements and clear pronunciation would allow the spell to be performed.

It was annoying, but it gave her something to do as they waited for the train to set off. Strong fundamentals were, in her opinion, one of the most important things to learn. At the very least, she'd never get a wand movement wrong.

After a while, the train set off, chugging away from the station as parents waved their goodbye's. And, thankfully, they hadn't been joined by any other students. She didn't have any problems associating with young children when they got to Hogwarts, but eight hours? It was just too much time cramped together with the immature and their no-doubt awkward conversation attempts.

She took out a red silk handkerchief, placing it on the seat beside her. The colour-change charm wasn't taught until a little later in the year, but Morgan figured their was no reason to wait. She'd already read her books to exhaustion - so had Su, though she grumbled a little about all the work - and waiting to practice further magic, well, that just wasn't her.

Morgan fully intended to be years ahead of her peers. They were children for heavens sake, if she couldn't out-pace them then she may as well quit.

"Colovaria" she said, moving her wand as described. But instead of the silk turning blue - as she had envisioned - her wand instead sneered at her and spat a spark from the tip, it somehow curling back and stinging her hand.

Why, this petulant little... This seemed to always be the problem, no matter how much the book described the wand movements, it could never quite get it right and Morgan was left perfecting it the best she could. The good news was that the wand movements were all that were holding her back. Her grasp of theory as well as her instinctual grasp on magic that she'd trained for so many years meant - at least for now - that she had yet to fail a spell once her wand deemed her movements suitable.

But, of course, that didn't stop her from getting angry. Maybe she should have Su try the spell, turn her wand a nice pink... Oh my, if the way her wand was shooting out sparks was any indication, that was a threat it didn't like. She'd remember that.

Eventually the handkerchief was a nice, deep blue and Morgan decided that enough was enough, putting away her wand for now and standing up.

"Let's go, Su" she said.

Su didn't hesitate, putting away her book and following Morgan into the corridor of the train. "Where are we going?" she asked, glancing at Morgan quizzically.

Morgan met her eyes, her smile all teeth. "To see the hero, of course."


She found Harry in a compartment with Ron, both expected and not. She'd wondered just how much would be changed by the muggles being killed and so far the answer seemed to be not a lot, for Hogwarts anyway.

The surrounding compartments seemed to hush as she prepared to open the door. Really, if they wanted to talk with the 'Boy-Who-Lived' they could just do as she was.

She opened the door and stepped inside, the two occupants turning to stare at her. She gave no notice to Ron - she had no interest in him - focusing all her attention on Harry.

Well, this was no Daniel Radcliffe, that was for sure. His hair was a black mess, curling in odd locations. The glasses were the same, covering a pair of light green eyes adorning a thin face. This... This was the books Harry Potter, not the movies.

Idly, she wondered what Hermione - an ugly girl in the books - looked like, before casting the thought aside. Even Ron looked different, his face narrower and full of freckles, his body a little taller than his movie counterpart. Huh, now that she thought about it, Draco looked the same as she expected, but she had viewed from a distance. Well, it hardly mattered anyway.

But the most striking thing, the thing that really stood out to her, was just how ordinary Harry looked.

"Err... can we help you?" said Harry, jolting her out of her thoughts. He was frowning at her, his scar peeking out from behind his fringe.

"Harry Potter..." she said, gazing at the utterly normal boy before her.

"Yes?"

She crossed her arms behind her back as she gazed at him. "How... disappointing."

Harry blinked behind his glasses. "What?" he asked, voice filled with confusion.

"You're just an ordinary boy, aren't you?" She wasn't quite sure what she had been expecting. Of course Harry would be normal, that was how it should be, but still...

A flash of anger crossed his eyes as his back stiffened. "Is there something wrong with that?" he asked.

Morgan couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped her. If only he knew... He was an ordinary boy in a world that would crush the normal, in a world where Harry Potter could no longer afford to be ordinary.. "Oh, Mr Potter" she said, a hint of mirth still colouring her tone. "Everything is wrong with that."

His lips pressed together, an annoyed frown twisting his face. "Well, I'm sorry the boy-who-lived isn't everything you wanted him to be" he said, and how tired he sounded. Perhaps this was a common occurrence?

"Yeah, leave him alone, whats wrong with being normal? And who are you, anyway?" spoke up Ron, drawing Morgans attention.

"Ah, Mr Weasley" she nodded, seeing him startle at the name. "My name is Fay, Morgan Fay, and this is Su" she indicated to Su, standing a little behind her, giving her own nod. She looked back at Harry, her voice taking on a darker tone. "And I'm not sorry, Mr Potter, but if you don't shape up, you soon will be."

The atmosphere of the compartment - previously quite calm - now turned threatening, Harry and Ron both tensing up.

"Oi, whats that supposed to mean?" said Ron, glaring at her. But Morgan wasn't listening to him.

This... this was a problem. The world was already so different, she had no idea if Harry was the only one that could kill Voldemort, but if he was then this, this normal boy in front of her wasn't enough. Canon Harry was a passive boy, that wouldn't do much of anything until his feet were quite literally in the fire. Voldemort tearing down the wizarding world? Lets just go about classes like normal, shall we?

It was foolish and naive. From his first year he never showed much motivation to learn magic, even when he knew Voldemort was still alive in his first year. That kind of personality... It wouldn't survive against a Voldemort as dangerous as this worlds.

"Let me give you some advice, Mr Potter" she said. One warning, that was all she would give him. "You need to open your eyes, you need to become stronger... Or you're going to die."

She turned and left the compartment, ignoring the commotion from Ron, plans already shifting and crystallizing. Either this Harry would shape up, or...

Or she would throw him to Voldemort herself.


It was dark by the time the train finally pulled up to the platform at Hogwarts. The older students all left for the carriages while they, as first years, followed Hagrid's rough voice, shouting them to his location.

Morgan had to admit, this was a good night to be crossing the lake. The sky was clear and the stars were shining brightly, the moon a pale crescent, illuminating the calm waters of the lake.

She and Su were joined in a boat by two girls, a ginger and brunette. She gave them a cursory nod before focusing on the lake. With a shout of "Forward!" the boats began to move. Morgan relaxed in the chilly air, enjoying the soothing sounds of waves gently lapping at the boat.

Eventually, they rounded a corner and Hogwarts came into view. It was... impressive, to see the castle fully illuminated against the night sky, looking much newer than she had ever seen a castle look before. Judging by the mumblings of children from across the lake, and even from Su, it seemed her reaction was not the norm.

Pulling up to wooden docks, they were led up to the castle, enclosed by large, white stone walls. A black gate was embedded into the wall, twisted metal sprouting blooming, metal flowers. The shield of Hogwarts took up position on the centre of the gate, a keyhole in the middle of a large, stylised H and surrounded by the four emblems of the Hogwarts Houses: the lion, on it's hind legs to the left and clawing at metal to its right; the snake, set to the right of the lion and coiled, as though to strike the Gryffindor lion; the badger, placed beneath the lion and finally the raven, beak raised into the sky.

Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus. The ribbon of metal embossed with the Hogwarts logo seemed to float in empty air beneath the emblem, rippling with an unseen breeze. Never tickle a sleeping dragon...

Morgan couldn't agree more.

"Alrigh', one moment" Hagrid grumbled. Reaching into the pocket of his large brown overcoat, he brought out a golden key and opening the gate. Dramatics for the new students, no doubt the gate was open for those visiting via carriage; Morgan could see the appeal. In fact, it was probably always open usually, to allow students to visit the lake.

Following Hagrid, they were led through the gate and onto the grounds of Hogwarts. For a moment, she felt... uneasy. There was a strange feeling in the air, a certain feeling of danger, but it vanished quickly.

The entrance hall was an interesting sight. Great stone stairs led up to the left and right. Above, Morgan could spot the moving staircase shifting around, the paintings put up everywhere she could see peering at them curiously.. The other students were all in awe and-

Was that? Of course, there was no other student that would be prattling off facts in such a manner. The bushy haired girl that Morgan assumed was Hermione was chatting to an uninterested girl next to her. She seemed shabbier than she expected, but assuming she'd bought everything using the Hogwarts budget, her shabbiness made sense.

And, well, her transition from fiction to reality had not been kind. She was far from Emma Watson, with her extremely bushy hair and large front teeth. Fortunately, she was a witch and could no doubt find a way to fix that.

"Welcome, new students" spoke McGonagall, distracting Morgan from her observations. "I am Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress and Professor of Transfiguration. In a moment, we shall enter the great hall. You shall stand quietly until your name is called, at which point you shall be sorted into your respective House." She looked over them, assessing them as the chatting students quieted. "Very good. Now, follow me." Turning, she opened the doors to the great hall, the children following.

For a moment, Morgan hesitated. This... this was where everything would truly begin. Where she would determine if she could rise to the greatest of heights, or fail like so many others no doubt had. Throughout all of history, how many had tried to accomplish what she wanted; how many had failed to accomplish what she wanted?

Well, she would just have to seize the small chance she had.

She stepped forward and into the great hall, beneath its star-strewn ceiling. Had she not known otherwise, she might have thought their was no ceiling, so complete was the enchantment. The rows of students were lit by floating candles, hovering high above as they watched with barely concealed boredom, in some cases.

Morgan took stock of them before turning her eyes onto the staff table. From Quirrel to Snape, they were all there. But what caught her attention wasn't the way Snape was staring unhappily at Harry, nor the fact that Quirrel was actually present, despite all the changes to the world.

No, her eyes were fixed upon Albus Dumbledore, sitting at the centre of the collection of Professors. And, most noticeably...

He was old. Her thoughts whirled, uncomprehending. Albus Dumbledore was old, in an age where age was defeated. His smile was small and his eyes were twinkling as he watched them walk forward between the long tables, but it didn't change what he was. Old.

Morgan wanted to laugh, wanted to scream, wanted to do something. For their was only one conclusion she could think of.

Albus Dumbledore had given up. The white beard, the wrinkles... He was waiting for death. Perhaps their were other reasons for it, but she didn't think so, nor was she inclined to hope so.

She was alone. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she had acknowledged that Dumbledore had likely done everything he could to stop the genocide. During the moments when her rage had cooled enough to allow her to think objectively, she accepted that he would have done everything he could, even if he failed. And she'd expected that he would continue to do all that he could. No matter how much she hated him, no matter how much she wanted him to burn, she had thought that he would be fighting with his full might, both alongside and against her.

But no. That frail body itself was a sign that he wasn't doing all he could, not anymore. Rather than take up the strength of youth in the fight against Voldemort, he chose this- this! He knew Voldemort was alive, yet he still...!

Their was no rage within her mind, as she had expected to feel. Just a sort of incredulous disbelief. Voldemort sat but a few feet from him, separated from resurrection by only one small stone. The wide-eyed, innocent children were sharing a room with the greatest monster to ever exist - assuming he was there, anyway - and...

And only Morgan stood opposite, ready to stamp him back into the dirt with everything she had. Albus Dumbledore was defeated, broken. Harry Potter was a mere boy, unaware of the dangers lurking the world.

And she was alone.

She tried to wrench herself away from her fatalistic thoughts, tried to remind herself that there was no way Albus Dumbledore would just give up and that maybe he just liked being old, when another absurd thought knocked her off-centre.

If Voldemort were to return this year, wasn't Lucius Malfoy the only thing standing in his way of all Britain? Would he give up his power to Voldemort? She doubted it.

What an utterly absurd world she was in. If there was any consolation to all of this, it was that Snape still looked like Alan Rickman.

She watched as students were sorted, not noticing any discrepancies from the books. If this was how things were going to be, then very well. If Dumbledore had consigned himself to uselessness, if he refused to use his full might to bring down Voldemort, then she would just do so herself. Already she was discarding Dumbledore from her plans. She could no longer trust the thought that he would be capable of stopping Voldemort, even for a while.

But, even still, she found herself smiling. Dumbledore was broken? Very well. Harry Potter was an ordinary boy? Why not.

She would still win.

McGonagall called her name, eyeing her uneasily as she stepped forward, an eerie smile on her face.

This is where it all starts. Watch, Voldemort. Watch, Dumbledore.

Watch my rise.


Well, there you have it. Dumbledore isn't completely out of it yet, he'll still try to stop Voldemort, it's just that the weight of 6 billion people has broken him pretty badly. I'll probably have the hat tell Morgan her thoughts about him are right next chapter.

I'm trying to keep people close to their canon personalities, although there's likely to be small differences and I may end up getting it wrong.