Still don't own anything, weird dreams to the contrary notwithstanding.

Also my abscence is inexcusable. Forgive me.

Chapter 9: Scheming at Ungodly Hours

September 1st, 1991 22:10

The rest of the evening was boring to no end, at least as far as Merlin was concerned. Morgana had seemingly gotten all the fun.

Merlin's table had eventually, despites Draco's occasional growl, forgotten all tensions and began talking about more common topics that, to his relief, did not involve any Ambrose identity of his; they would occasionally glance his way and Merlin could sense they were about to ask a question, some would even open their mouths and look his way, but then they would decide against it. Even older children would glance his way but for some reason, maybe Draco, no one spoke to him. At that point and considering how the previous conversation had gone, Merlin preferred the silence.

Instead they would discuss Quidditch, Brooms, Viktor Krum's rising career, classes in Hogwarts, and the like. They jumped from one topic to the next, even if the topics had little to no relationship between each other. If Merlin was just slightly less patient it might have drove him raving mad, or just bore him numb.

"Transfiguration is the most difficult class in Hogwarts." Blaise stated. Merlin opened his mouth to comment, it was tricky yes, but there were some tricks to transfiguration. He sighed and turned away. Despite having an intake in the topic, he did not want to spur Draco, again. If the Prince Pureblood heard him, he might rear his head again.

The blond boy had been mostly quiet as well, and Merlin had to remind himself that Arthur did not like him at the beginning either so he would not despair. Though Merlin often felt a vague disappointment from Draco, he was not too happy with how things had gone. Maybe he dreaded Lucius' disappointment as well, Martin knew that Lucius would be very disappointed that he did not have an Ambrose on his back pocket, or in his son's back pocket. He was doing his best to ignore the emotions and thoughts of those around him, Morgana had it worse she was a far more skilled and talent legimens and empath than he.

He turned to the Priestess, she was listening avidly to one of the Weasley twins If she kept flirting with them he'll, honest to the old religion, pull his hair out in frustration. The Immortal felt a cold breeze, he flinched, he knew what it was before he saw it, that cold breeze he knew so well but that seemed so alien to him. Morgana probably felt it too, Immortal as they were, they were very attuned to death. Merlin found it delightfully ironic. Morgana found it bothersome.

Merlin avoided staring at the ghosts, he just did not want to see his little girl standing there.

"You are the Bloody Baron, aren't you?" Blaise asked, staring nervously at the ghost that had appeared next to Draco, who looked less than pleased by the late murderer's appearance. But then again Draco scowled so much that the leer was probably permanent by now. "That's right, young snake." The ghost responded coldly. Merlin glanced at the Slytherin ghost, The Baron still wore in death the clothes he had been fond of late in his life, the 10th century clothes of the highborn man. His hair was dark and mostly covered by a wig, his eyes were light and daunting.

Merlin sighed, he hated dealing with the Baron, he had been Merlin's student, he had known him well, cared for the boy, even Morgana had liked him, but that boy had paid him back killing their daughter. He was still stained with her blood. Martin felt a wave of disgust and turned away. He wished things had been different.

He wondered how the founders would feel about the situation... He knew how Rowena felt about their daughter being a ghost, and that Morgana wanted nothing more than to crush the Baron, she had tried to do so too, many times, and had Merlin not intervened she would have succeeded. Godric had had no fondess for ghosts in general, because they were afraid of dying and the sort… Helga disliked having ghosts in general, she never was too fond of Peeves. Salazar did like ghosts, more than he liked people "They are fascinating creatures" he would say, but he had been very fond of Helena too, Merlin had no doubt he would have exorcised her killer had he had half a chance to do so.

But then Merlin had little knowledge of what image Salazar had of the Baron, he had indeed chosen him to his house and taught him himself. Where they close? Martin did not know. He could not recall any of their interactions.

Personally, he now felt some sort of kinship with ghosts, at first he had not liked them one bit as they reminded him of the Dorocha too much; but now he felt they might know how it felt. They might just understand what it was like to linger forever... But that did not mean he did not feel anger against his daughter's murderer. He hated the man, and he wanted to exorcise him.

But he just kept it bottled in… He just could not afford to do it.

22:25

As soon as she had caught sight of ghosts, Morgana stopped talking and turned her eyes from them as soon as she could, even when children pointed, gasped and even laughed, she had every intention to avoid them. Pretend they didn't exist. She even ignored Nearly Headless Nick's demonstration. He had seen him show off his nearly-decapitation far too many times. Ghosts were just something she had to get used to again, she tended to avoid them. Entirely. And when she couldn't, well, she was quite the talented exorcist, not even Merlin could deny that.

"Are you alright, Ellaine?" Harry asked, obviously concerned over her general silence, she had been so talkative in the train… George trailed off, staring at her in doubt.

Morgana looked up, smiling softly. "I am fine, Harry."

"Well. You were saying George?" She whispered, glancing at him.

Fred stared at her. "Oh, right. Quirrell…"

She took special note of everything the Weasley twins told her, but the information she got from them was not what she wanted. It was far from unbiased, full of observations and thoughts rather than facts, and they tended to deviate. She supposed that it could not be helped. It wasn't like she actually expected to obtain the information she needed up front like that, she never did. But, at least, she now knew a bit of the professor's background. Whatever would make a teacher decide to change his career in Hogwarts? She could not remember it happening before... and ending well...

Quirrel should know of the curse on his current position. Teachers tended to last just a year in the post and there were few exemptions, mostly Merlin who had come back every alternate year during his twenty years as his last magical identity with one of Merlin's most common surnames, Andrew Anfarwol. Quirrel going into this class without apparent submission to another class next year alone told Morgana more than Fred or George did, whatever Quirrel was planning, he had no intention of returning to that post on Hogwarts next year. Considering how some teachers tended to finish after a year teaching that class, maybe he had no intention of returning at all. Honestly she was disappointed, a Ravenclaw, involved in wrongdoing... Quirrel you stupid, stupid child.

As soon as the feast was over, the Headmaster started giving directions, Morgana heard Dumbledore saying something about the Forbidden Forest, and that it was indeed still forbidden. That had never changed, Hogwarts had been built there for the forest, so that she could keep a watch on it. Also she was rather fond of the lake, but if anyone asked, it was for the forest. A forest that would remain forbidden, she had no intention of letting children get too close to the Dark Forest in it's depths or, worse even, too close to The Tower. There was magic in there that even her, or Merlin, could not completely control. Just contain. Though occasionally something would escape and become an issue...

Dumbledore spoke about Quidditch and the upcoming trials. Morgana wrinkled her nose in response, she hated brooms. She did not need them, she could fly all by herself if she set her mind to it. But brooms tended to shatter around her and they were restrictive.

Then something about the third floor also being forbidden, to all those who didn't want to die a horrible death. Morgana frowned, quickly thinking back, last time she had been in Hogwarts the third floor corridor had been barely used. There were things in there still, or they had been last time she had checked; Godric's dueling room was still there, so was the old Study of Ancient Spells class, which had been forsaken in 1876 when the class had been dropped. There was little more in there as far as she could recall, a couple of extra classes that she could not recall ever using and the hidden reliquary where she kept some of the founder's stuff: wands, some clothes, relics and the like.

What exactly was Dumbledore doing in the third floor? She had the right to know. Not only Hogwarts was hers; if he was making a play she needed to be aware of it, at least. Did it have anything to do with Voldemort? Did Dumbledore know something about him? And why wasn't she aware of it? She sighed, had she actually been out of the game so long that she had lost her touch? Well, she always did like snooping around. She could not do it now, though, there was too much attention from the teachers, they would be trying to see which students would be obedient and which troublesome… And she wished to keep her resources under the sleeve for the time being.

Morgana knew teachers, like she had once been, were too defensive at the beginning of every year, she knew that by experience, and they would be on alert. Morgana would wait. When teachers became absorbed on their work then security became lax; making a move now would be akin to foolishness. Patience became second nature to an Immortal… Most of the time, at least. No matter what Merlin said...

Dumbledore finished his small speech and began directing the Hogwarts School song, Morgana repeated Helga's song absentmindedly, thinking instead on her plans. Maybe the aforementioned trials were, apart from an annoying prospect, also presenting an opportunity. Most teachers and prefects that were free time would be watching the trials. She would have a huge gap to act uninhibited. She relished that. The timing was perfect. At least she knew what she was going to be doing that day.

Everyone ended their singing at different times, the Weasley's were the last to finish, and with a dark tone; Morgana could not help but laugh at their theatrics. "Ah, music," the headmaster said, picking at his eye with a neckerchief. Apparently not only aware, but also enjoying the whole asymmetrical tone the song was sung in. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!" Morgana grinned as she stood up, music was something she knew well…

Hundreds of students did the same. She turned to George, "When did he say the trials were due?"

"Did he not say it?" George asked, with a confused frown and tone.

Morgana grinned, "I got distracted…"

"Oh, well…" He said. "It's mostly at the beginning of the year… I could let you know when it happens, if you want…" Morgana nodded once.

"That would be nice, thanks."

She turned back and began following Percy Weasley who had begun to bellow, "First years with me!"

It turned out she would later regret it; she would scowled at his choice of path. He was choosing what she considered the long way to the rooms, if he turned left on the tapestry of Camelot instead of through it they would be at the rooms already. If he took another wrong turn Morgana would turn right back and take a shortcut. She did not have the patience, nor the energy, to keep up with this; she had slept less than an hour the last 48 hours. Even with her magic to sustain her, she was pushing it.

When they finally got to the staircases, everybody was yawning loudly. Percy suddenly stopped, standing mere feet away from the entrance; Morgana groaned angrily. Whatever he was stopping for? She wanted to get some, any, rest. She was going on her magical energies, if she failed to rest it would take a toll on the amount of power she could muster. If there was an attack that night and she was unable to repel it singlehandedly, it would be the Prefect's fault. And he'd be acceptable casualty, Merlin would give the bad news to the rest of the Weasley's.

Ellaine pushed to the front, determined to give Percival Weasley a piece of her mind. This was taking far too much time… "Seriously, have you ever heard of sleep, you skinny slimy little bast –" She began, growling at him. She then looked up, trailing off, when she heard the sound of wood hitting wood.

Her eyes narrowed and fell. No. Not HIM.

A bunch of walking sticks were making a funny dance in midair, Percy foolishly stepped forward, and they began hitting him. It would have been very humorous if Morgana was not so exhausted, in fact, she might had found it funny two hours ago.

The priestess was so beyond herself in annoyance, and so tired, that she considered turned into Rowena Ravenclaw right there, diadem and all to spook the poltergeist. But then, she would be forced to modify the memories of all involved, and she was too tired to do that as it was, also her diadem was still a little on the lost side. But it was a matter of principle, if they all thought Peeves was afraid of the Baron, they would see the Poltergeist was absolutely terrified of Rowena. She had been able to almost incapacitate him just with one dirty look. She absolutely missed that.

There was an awful popping noise, and the tiny man appeared all wide eyes and mouth. He was floating cross-legged in the air, walking sticks in his unnaturally big spider-like hands. Morgana could recall the last time she had seen the tiny creature, perfectly, he had been annoying. As ever. She had thrown the little man into the lake as an offering for the monster, maybe she would get to repeat that. Perhaps the monster might actually keep the Poltergeist this time around.

"Oooooooh!" Peeves crackled. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped at them, and Morgana and her classmates dodged, she seethed in rage. If that poltergeist wanted fun, she'd transport him to Albania right there and then. Maybe he would annoy Voldemort to death. Or better yet, she would exorcise him; trap him somewhere, based on previous experiences she can't imagine that would be at all pleasant. She could use a new rug...

"Go away, Peeves," Percy growled. "or the Baron will hear about this, I mean it!"

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking stick on Neville's head. But they still heard him, making armors chatter as he disappeared. Morgana rolled her eyes and turned at Percy, still annoyed on how much potential rest she was missing. If Voldemort attacked and she was unable to push his forces back singlehandedly, it was on him.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," the Prefect said, as they began to advance again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects." Morgana rolled her eyes, of course not, who would ever listen to you? To her Peeves did not matter, she could handle him easily, even as sleep deprived as she currently was. "Here we are."

At the end of the corridor hung the portrait of Dawn Briggs. Morgana frowned, could a picture actually grow chubbier? It certainly looked like it. Could the portrait actually eat? What if Morgana actually painted a cake? Could the worlds inside the portrait be affected? She would have to make some research, she could not believe she had not thought of it before. It was something interesting to distract herself with later...

The Weasley prefect stepped forward, "Password?" the Portrait asked.

"Caput Draconis." Percy answered. Morgana rolled her eyes, Dragon's Head? So they still used pairs of Latin words with no logical context? Morgana mulled, it was unoriginal in 1017, it was still unoriginal in 1991. She would always prefer her method, the whole riddles and the questions, it was far more of a learning experience. This was supposed to be a school after all. Nothing wrong with making a learning experience out of everything. Once, again, ignoring Merlin's belief on the matter. He actually had the gall to critique her staircases. The staircases! They were iconic. No taste at all.

The portrait swung forward as a door, to reveal the passage and then the common room.

Oh, was she taken back… Morgana could remember talking with Lily about Severus Snape's slip. She could almost see Jocelyn Marks as they discussed the Latin class being scrapped next year. She only had to close her eyes and she could see Godric Gryffindor, and hear him tell her he wanted to place weapons in the walls on top of the furniture and the windows as decorations, while the rest of the founders and she protested. Godric's first defense was that the weapons were conveniently placed... in case Muggles ever attacked. He had gotten his way. But Morgana had magically dulled the swords, spears, and others and made them really heavy.

He found out years later, trying to lift a Warhammer, it wasn't even an attack. Salazar had been a bit careless with a Master level potion... The great muscled man had pulled and pulled on the hammer, screaming "Rowena!" at the top of his lungs. It had been rather amusing... until he actually managed to lift it somehow and broken a window, then it had been downright hysterical.

Percy directed the girls up the left room, Morgana climbed in first. She opened the door and walked right in. Morgana sighed, hurring to the last bed next to most right wall, she wanted Lily's bed. She sat on the soft bed, sighing half contently, half sadly... As she could still recall sitting in the very bed with Lily and talking, she could all but see her darling girl. She closed her eyes and laid down on the covers, perhaps it was her imagination, but she could almost smell Lily on the bed. She could remember those few times she had slept alongside Lily in the same bed… and she missed her so much.

Morgana scolded herself, she could not let grief define her; people could not see her grieving. It would give away far too much about herself. Eleven year-olds did not mourn long lost daughters. "That was a lot a food…" Hermione said, "Wonder who made it?" she questioned, Morgana considered telling her of Helga's house elves… But as that was a sad part of the Wizarding World she decided against it.

"Magic, duh!" Lavender drawled, while pulling forcefully on her night dress which was stuck in her luggage. "How else?" Morgana frowned. So Lavender did not know about the House Elves? But she was Pureblooded, no? Morgana opened her mouth to speak, Lavender gave a sharp tug on her dress again and the Priestess sighed.

"Be careful; you are going to tear it." She warned, standing up with a roll of her eyes; going to help her.

"Magic cannot conjure food; it goes against the laws of Gwamp." Hermione retorted; already changed, climbing in bed.

Morgana almost smiled, Hermione wasn't supposed to know that. No wonder Merlin liked the bushy haired lass. She was smarter than Morgana had expected. In fact, for a moment there, the little piece of her that was still Rowena felt a sharp bout of annoyance and jealousy. The sorting had gone all wrong! Hermione was supposed to be in HER house. She was a clear Ravenclaw.

The Priestess climbed in Lily's bed still mulling how she was going to tell off her hat for making that ridiculous mistake and closed her eyes. She, like Merlin was an early bird. Mostly. So when everyone was still sleeping, Ellaine opened her eyes, she raised her head and stared around, using her magic to enhance her vision in the darkness. She stood up, walking to the door, opening it slowly and disappearing through it.

She shifted through the staircase, climbing down as quickly and silently as she could manage. When she got to the bottom, she turned around to check that nobody was there. Slowly she withdrew her wand, "Muffliato." She said, pointing at the staircase she had come from before putting the wand back in the sheathe. Merlin and her had agreed never to use their own magic where any may see; that was why they were so adept with their wands. People could always see. Easier to explain being adept with modern magic than they having the Old Religion.

Morgana stepped to look at the fireplace, the coals were starting to die… She stretched her left hand to the smoke, and as it magically relit she whispered.

"Merlin?"

22:40

The warlock barely repeated the School song and he, like his companion, was wondering what to do of the after feast announcements. Why would they close off a portion of Hogwarts? It really had no precedent, what was in there?

"What do you reckon is in the third floor corridor?" Blaise whispered. Merlin had to wonder the exact same thing… What was Dumbledore up to?

Draco frowned, "Do not dare and go gallivanting around at night, Zabini. You'll lose us points!" He said, Merlin was almost endeared with his maturity but then it was over a competition. "Let the Gryffindors do the rule breaking." Martin sighed, nowadays Gryffindors were the ones considered to be rule breakers, but way back when, Slytherins were troublesome. Always trying to learn magic they had no claim to, cursing other students, threatening teachers, turning teacups into elephants… They were a handful. The poor teacher never drank water again...

Though Gryffindors now included High Priestess Morgana Pendragon, she made the worst rule-breaker seem tame in comparison. On another league altogether. James Potter had learned that the very hard way… The way Morgana liked best. Merlin turned to look at her as she casually picked on her teeth. He would not be too shocked if Morgana dragged him off to the 3rd floor within the following week. In fact, he may just be surprised if she didn't.

Before anytime the school song was sung and the feast was over. Merlin took a last bite, and grabbed a piece of bread before it disappeared. He normally was not that gluttonous, but it was Helga's food...

"Ah Music, a magic beyond all we do here!" Dumbledore sighed, poking at his eyes with a neckerchief. "And now bedtime. Off you trot!"

Daphne rolled her eyes, standing up. "You heard the Headmaster." She stated with a sarcastic tone. "Off we trot."

A last year prefect with sharp unhomely features, dark hair, pale skin, thick neck and silvery white eyes walked through the crowd, "You first years!" He yelled, "Come with me!" They all began to follow the prefect, silently at first, whispering later and full blown yelling now.

Merlin's group turned around several times, and he was adamant he could have found a quicker, and safer - way to the dungeons. Draco was telling some of his classmates about his broom back home. While Merlin just mulled over how much he hated broomsticks, they often desintegrated in his hands. He had had some awful experiences.

"The Cleansweep is fast, but I have got to get me a Nimbus 2000." Draco said. Merlin rolled his eyes, if he wanted to, he could outspeed any broom with his magic. And his spells did not break down midair and leave him hanging from a roof, or a tree...

"But first years can't have a Broom, Draco…" Daphne pointed out. Martin was sure that would not stop Draco for a second.

Draco snorted. "I know that." Then he smiled, "I am thinking how I can get one of the House Elves I have to smuggle it in." Merlin wondered where would Draco even keep a illegal broom, they were notarized as soon as they got into the school. Merlin rolled his eyes, shaking his head, this boy should be disciplined. Maybe he should have let Morgana be teacher this year. How on Earth was he supposed to reign this child in?

"What if you get caught?" Pansy Parkinson asked sourly, "You'll be expelled." Not like the possibility would stop him, Merlin thought.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Not likely, my father is part of the Governors." Merlin frowned, thinking sarcastically: practically Royalty then. Back when Hogwarts had been founded the governors had had little power… But now they had, somehow, gotten to the top of the eating chain… Merlin did not approve. "And if they somehow manage to get me expelled," Draco continued a couple of minutes later. "There is always Durmstrang." Merlin chortled, everyone turned to look at him, Draco glared. "What?" The silver haired Slytherin asked. Merlin raised an eyebrow at him.

"They don't allow brooms for first years in Durmstrang either." As far as he could remember they only did when they were in third year and you had to present some formulary and take a test, "And their disciplinary methods are far worse than the ones in Hogwarts." He did not see Draco liking Durmstrang, he should go back in time and enlist in Lot's army in the 7th century, instead; far more enjoyable. And in occasions, safer. True, you'd probably die by Morgana's hand either way, later on... and it'd be horrible... but Morgana had something for Durmstrang she didn't have for Lot. Pure burning hate.

Merlin had certainly not enjoyed his one time at Durmstrang. Morgana had, he supposed; back then professors in Durmstrang had had the right to hex unruly students. One of them tried it on Morgana when her behavior had gone overboard, in truth he could not blame the man, Merlin too had been tempted to curse her once or twice the last week; but Morgana had not been pleased, the professor lived out his days in a magical clinic in Bulgaria irremediably convinced he was a llama.

"And how could you possibly know that?" Draco sneered. Martin opened his mouth to respond, but caught himself, he did not want to say 'I was in Durmstrang'. It would be less than ideal.

"I had family in Durmstrang, once." Merlin stated, turning around to avoid the annoying boy. His answer was weak... and he knew it.

"Ooh. Martin knows everything," Draco growled, "Do you know Ilvermony, too?"

Merlin scowled. Yes he did and he knew the founders of Ilvermony too. Morgana had been particularly close to Isolt Sayre, she had even faced, or rather, humiliated, evil Gormlaith to allow Isolt time to escape. Morgana rarely spoke about the whole issue so he was not sure what had happened, sheep were involved but other than that... he only knew Isolt had always called her Aunt Morgana. Merlin had even taught in Isolt's school for a time, when he had stayed in New York after the Scamander incident. "I –" As an Ambrose, fun times, Grindelwald running rampant and he unable to do anything...

"Here you are." The Slytherin prefect said, unintentionally defusing the upcoming argument. "Password is 'Snake Blood'." Merlin did not even stopped to consider how distasteful the password was. As a Parsel, he didn't want to think of Snakes bleeding. Everybody stared at the prefect as he walked away and disappeared. Merlin would have been very upset had he not helped Salazar when he was building his common room.

"Bloody prefects…" Blaise hissed. "What are we to do now?" Apparently the prefect had better things to do than to help his fellow students. Merlin rolled his eyes, blasted Slytherins. So very selfish.

Merlin did not pay much attention to the complaints, he just stepped forward to the wall a couple of feet from him, "Snake Blood." The wall slid soundlessly, and revealed the rocky walls of the Slytherin common room. He just climbed in, ignoring Draco's questions of how he had known which wall was it. He did not feel like elaborating. It was late, Draco was annoying and Merlin was tired.

Blaise froze and turned at Draco, "Maybe he does know everything."

Draco scowled in response, hissing at him to "Shut up, Zabini."

Merlin smiled. His most prevalent memory in this place was with Salazar, it had been the very first year of Hogwarts… They had been sharing jokes and sharing stories, it had been the first and one of the few times he had heard Salazar laugh. He remembered helping Salazar choose the furniture, how Merlin himself had chosen the carpet. He was suddenly smiling at old forgotten jokes, thinking just how charismatic Salazar could be. He still missed the Parsel sometimes. Slytherin was rough around the edges, he decided, but he was alright.

The children walked in after the Immortal. Some stared around the room with awe on their eyes, most looked awfully pleased with themselves. Looking as if they had built the room themselves. something that Merlin as Hogwarts' main architect, took issue with.

He looked up and saw the potions on the chimney. He thought of Cygnus Black, Sirius' great grandfather; he had managed to spill one of those potions despite how high it was and it had smoked the place up. "So which door is it?" Draco asked, staring at both in mild annoyance. All of the kids stared at the doors with scowls and yawns. "Martin?" He turned to him, and Merlin almost said 'the One in the Left' but he caught himself. He could say that he got lucky with the wall or something, but he could not explain how he knew the door.

"The founders made it that boys cannot open the girls' dormitory." Merlin stated. "Try to open the door, Draco?" Malfoy froze, staring at him almost in confusion. He could probably take a leaf out of Hermione's book and say he read it in 'Hogwarts: A History'. Though he did not expect them to believe that.

"But…" Malfoy protested. Looking at both the doors scornfully.

"But What?" Merlin responded stoically. Draco probably didn't want to try, should he get it wrong... "Does everybody open the door for you?" Draco scowled. Blaise chortled in amusement. "Spoiled Boy?" Daphne grinned, obviously amused.

Draco frowned, "I was going to say you do it." Malfoy said, "You gotta be used to it." Then he frowned, suddenly realizing how awful that comeback was. Merlin rolled his eyes.

Merlin grinned. "Why? You are a boy, right, Draco?" He asked calmly. Everyone laughed.

"Idiot." Draco answered, rolling his eyes.

Martin raised his eyebrows, "Prat." Then he flinched, He knew it was senseless to act this emotional, Arthur was dead. Merlin wasn't. He went back to the chimney and threw a log into the fire.

Behind him Draco pulled on the wrong door and everyone laughed. Blaise grinned, "Well, no point asking if you're really a boy, now, Malfoy." Draco shot him a dirty look, Merlin walked and opened the other door as Malfoy snarled at Zabini. Lot of work for him, Draco may be nastier than Arthur was… He needed some shut-eye.

September 2nd, 03:22

Merlin was laying in the bed, asleep when he heard it. "Merlin…" He flinched and stood up, looking around, it was so dark that he could barely see the door. But he saw a tuft of silver blonde hair in the bed next to him.

"Draco?" He asked in a whisper. But the boy snored in response. Merlin laid again in the bed, thinking that he had imagined it… Also Draco would never call him 'Merlin', it was all a trick of his exhausted mind. Why had the brat chosen the bed next to his? Merlin was almost disturbed at the possibilities. He decided spelling spells were in order.

"Merlin!" The warlock shot up in the bed, he turned to Draco anxiously, who was screaming for him? He'd ruin it all!, the boy was snoring softly. He sighed in relief, thanking the goddess they all seemed heavy sleepers. He would not expect otherwise, rich kids…

"Merlin!"

He climbed down his bed, sneaking to the door, opening it and cursing when it screeched, Draco tossed once and Merlin gasped. The other boy mumbled something underbreath but then fell asleep again, snoring. Merlin sighed in relief.

He slipped through the door, walking outside the room and closing the door. "Merlin!" the voice said again, and Merlin hissed. "I am coming! I am com-" Not seeing where he was going, he forgot about that column in the middle of the common room. He hit the rock with force and fell to the floor, a little annoyed, but mostly stunned.

Merlin blinked from the floor, if that did not wake his new Housemates nothing would. He suddenly remembered suggesting to Salazar a column be built in the middle of the circle. He regretted it more than anything…

"Merlin!" The voice repeated. The warlock groaned in annoyance, whoever was calling him, he'd cast something creative on it. He felt up his nose, it was not bleeding, or broken, but still… It hurt.

He staggered back to his feet, he touched the pillar and kept walking next to it, he touched the wall and kept walking. He ended up hitting a chair, and nearly tripped on it, he yelped in pain and annoyance, and cursed; then sighed.

He climbed over the chair, feeling rather sheepishly, he had been good sneaking around once upon a time. He then shook his head. Of course… he had forgotten to enhance his sight, he had not used his magic to see! Feeling even more sheepishly, he bit his lip, he was irredeemably out of any practice. If Arthur was alive now he would have been assassinated already!

The wood in the chimney had died some time ago. But he could still see it. A couple of centuries back it had been Gubraithian Fire, but after it had spread during one spark during school hours, Salazar himself had deemed it wise to magically fire-prove the room shortly after it happened and though Merlin thought that was enough, the founder decided to make it a normal set of flames, too. The rest of the founders, save Morgana, who had not used it to begin with, had also forbidden Gubraithian flames.

But there was something on the fiery remains, some sort of dark smoke was coming out of the fireplace, that had definitely NOT been there when Salazar had made the room… or after. It had not been there earlier that night, or rather - judging by the light: late, yesterday.

Merlin stepped forward looking at the shape in annoyance and curiosity. At first glance it would have seemed as if someone had spilled those potions again, but he could feel the old religion in there and that worried him.

Every time he became just a little active all remains of the Old Ways did too. He remembered the last time, back in his time as Marcus Ambrose, Dumbledore's friend; he had used a lot of the old spells then, drawn a lot of attention. In response a small Serket had sneaked into a muggle café in London, looking for him; causing quite a the end it had all ended in flames; suffice to say Morgana was involved, so fire made perfect sense.

Before that, while trying to replicate a ritual, but he had somehow botched the words. And a Dorocha had come to visit promptly, it had killed everything in Morgana's garden and she was unamused. The creature didn't last long it consumed itself shortly after. Morgana's nagging however had lasted to the day.

And she was no saint, her experiments were never tame. She was involved with Volcanic activity all over the globe. He wasn't entirely sure how… but she was.

It concerned him quite a lot now. What was this ghostly thing? He had never seen one of it's kind.

It turned, "Good night, Merlin." It said, taking a heavier shape. Merlin groaned and rolled his eyes.

Morgana. There was no mistaking her, though the edges of her face seemed rather smokey, it waved away and reformed, but remained in essence the same. He stared at her in some fascination, was this form of outer body projection something she had been working on?

"So this is the Slytherin common room?" She asked, having never been in Slytherin; she had never been in the common room, not even as Rowena. Then she scowled, "It is so very dark and muddy." For one fleeting awful moment Merlin thought she had died somehow and returned to haunt him. But then he felt her life force was strong still.

"What are you doing here, 'Gana?" Merlin hissed. He was very, very annoyed. She had awaken him needlessly after 48 hours of no sleep and he needed rest if he was to deal with all the anxious, angry snakes in the morning.

Morgana grinned, "I am not actually here, Merlin, dear." She stated. Then she looked at the windows, raising an eyebrow with that snobby look. "Thank the goddess, windows into the lake… Oh, Salazar, what were you thinking?" She said, shaking her head in derision. "I bet the place stinks of humidity." Merlin snorted.

"It does not!" He exclaimed, scandalized. That was his idea, it was wonderful, and he had executed it himself! She shrugged staring at the window and shaking her head, again... She didn't look much impressed, Merlin opened his mouth to remind her of the enormous ego statue she had in her own room. But thought it over and growled, "Alright – Scratch that." He said, breathing deeply. He was too tired to actually lose his temper. "What do you want?"

"Before we do that," Morgana said, floating to sit down on the couch nearby. "Are you not forgetting something?" Her question was accompanied by her soft teasing tone. Merlin stared at her, he knew her best – for a millennia, and he could not understand her.

"No, I would not think so." He answered with a scowl. He wanted to be done with her as soon as possible so that he may get some rest.

"If you say so, Merlin." She stated, waving him off. "Just keep in mind, they cannot see me..." She pointed at herself. "…but the snakes can hear you." Merlin froze, maybe it was for the best if they did not see him spluttering with his head inside the fireplace – might send the wrong message.

"Fine." He said, barely lifting his wand. "Muffliato. Repellum Muggleton."

"Is Repellum Muggleton not too much?" Morgana asked stoically, "They are not stupid Merlin, with nowhere to go but the common room. Were are they to go?" Martin scowled, she was right. He hated when she was right…

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Dear me, I just follow your suggestions Morgana." Then added coldly. "And besides, there's no one awake at this ungodly hour." It was a comment meant to annoy her, pure sarcasm.

Morgana feigned surprise. "Is it me to blame that you follow orders perfectly?" She exclaimed, smiling alluringly. "You have served people before, haven't you?" Merlin raised his eyebrows at the pointed piece of humor.

"Alright, what is it you really want?"

"What if I say 'you'?" Morgana asked, raising her eyebrows. Merlin rolled his eyes and the Priestess chuckled, he was more than accustomed to Morgana's aggressive flirting. "We agreed to discuss things of consequence as soon as possible, Mer." Morgana reminded him, with a cold, serious tone. "Don't you remember?"

"I remember." Merlin amended, in a grumpy tone. "And yes we did. But wasn't that tomorrow?" Morgana raised her eyebrows.

"No."

Merlin sighed, "Can it be tomorrow?"

"No."

"Can we do it halves, we discuss a couple of hours today and tomorrow we…" She rolled her eyes..

"No." She stated "Sit."

"Fine," he scowled, taking a sit, and asking: "What do you want to talk about?" though he had an inkling of what she wanted to discuss… he remembered how their magic warned them of Quirrell; how she had flinched. She wasn't one to accept putting 'her' students at risk.

"Quirrel." She stated, Merlin sighed and nodded knowingly.

"Can you not wait until tomorrow?" He asked again, more seriously, Merlin was really tired and so, he suspected, was she. She had to be insisting because of the excitement of finally being fully involved. It had been nearly five centuries since they had done this with a purpose. They had of course been involved before, Morgana had dueled and defeated thousands of Dark Lords, Merlin had founded the Ministry. But they had chosen to do that, this time it was different.

"No." She protested, narrowing her eyes at him. This time they were being called to intervene, it was rather exciting... half as excitement as it was frustrating and twice as it was tiresome, but thrilling all the same, "You felt his darkness as well as I did – The man is corrupted." It was true that Merlin had not felt so much dark magic surrounding a single person in a decade or two, but they had Aurors now...

"You think he is involved." Merlin stated, if he was involved then it had to be worse than just a professor gone astray. The stuttering professor would be not a budding Dark Lord, but in league with the last. The one who killed James and Lily. He frowned.

"I know he is." Morgana stated. "He was there, Quirrel, in Albania." Merlin mulled, Albania, supposedly 'The Darkest Forest in the World'. In truth he considered the forest of the Dark Tower, deep inside the Forbidden one to be the true Darkest forest in the world. But he had to admit the one in Albania was pretty dark, too. Morgana believed Riddle was there, too... She had her sources about that and Merlin rarely doubted her sources... well almost rarely. He still wasn't sure what had happened in that volcano in Sumatra. But that was more of her lying than having bad sources. Still, he knew not to take all of Morgana's words as truth...

"What is your source?" Merlin questioned. As Quirrell had not been in their radar but just two hours ago, he failed to see how Morgana would have obtained the information that Quirrell had gone knocking on Voldemort's Forest so quickly.

The Priestess shrugged, "Fred and George." Merlin's mouth fell, and he shook his head incredulously. "They mentioned vacations in Albania." Merlin sighed. Albania had always been bad news... even before Voldemort. There were werewolves, basilisk's, acromantulas, he even heard a tale that sounded like the Questing Beast. The reporter who'd seen it had died when a branch fell on him... sounded legit. But...

"The Weasleys?"

"Right, you are." She answered, standing up and gliding to the table in the end of the room. "Mmmh. Salazar's table…" She felt it up. Merlin stared at the smoke version of his friend. "I remember when he had this made… wouldn't fit through the door, he had a fit..."

"Morgana, they are children."

"Salazar?"

"Fred and George." He scowled.

"I trust their information," Morgana said, raising her eyebrows from behind the table and floating back in front of Merlin. She shrugged again. "as limited as it is." She floated to the bookcase, she stretched her hand and almost touched a book. "Animus Incanto?" She hissed, "Salazar said he lost this book… Never gave it back to me. Bastard."

"Fine, you want to scheme?" Merlin mumbled with a frustrated tone, "Lets Scheme."

"You make it sound so crass, Merlin…" Morgana laughed, sitting down on the couch. Merlin sighed, sitting down heavily.

"Oh, and Mer…? When we are done..." The High Priestess of the old religion said, "Return that book to me."

Thank you, this is it for the time being. Wouldn't blame you for abandoning the story if you did. I wrote this ages ago... But life got, let's say, exciting. Or rather let's say "in the way". It was not too nice on me... karma, probably.

Point out any mistakes if you see them, please...