A/N: Fair warning: this multi-chap fic is extremely self-indulgent and cliche. Still, I hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
The Resurrection of a Legend
Chapter One
When Morgan le Fay closed her eyes for the final time, she knew not what awaited her. A glimmering paradise, perhaps, or a place of eternal torment, or maybe the great absence, a void of nothingness.
With all she had seen of Magic's will, perhaps she should have known it would be reincarnation. The pain of her death faded, and then she was swimming, caressed by dark, cramped surroundings. There was the soothing rhythm of a heartbeat, and muffled singing, the latter of which soon faded.
That was her existence for an immeasurable time, but change, when it came, was swift and disorienting. She was suddenly shoved out of her sanctuary into a place of blinding light, a woman's screams piercing her ears. Calming voices tried to converse over the screams, and Morgana clung to those, though she was too frightened and confused to make sense of their words.
It was only later, when the room was serene and quiet and she was lovingly cradled in her new mother's arms, that it dawned on her what had occurred.
Panic began to well within her, but with the ease of long practice, she staved off an attack by focusing on the information afforded her by her senses: the sharp scent of sweat, her mother's soothing voice, her warm arms around her, the fiery aureole of her mother's hair as it was plastered to her skin. It was the same dark red hers had been in her first life.
When rational thought returned to her, Morgana reached for her magic, and discovered that, though present, it was much smaller and unformed, wilder than she had ever known it to be, such that she could barely discern where her internal magic ended and the magic of Nature began. She let the familiar flow of magic lull her to sleep, and her dreams were peaceful.
When she awoke, her mother was singing. "Why are there so many songs about rainbows and what's on the other side?"
Morgana babbled softly in confusion, causing her mother to laugh adoringly. Morgana had never heard the song before, though she already suspected, given the strange lights and the unfamiliar setup of the world around her, that she had not been reborn at any point close to her own time period. If years, even centuries had passed, who knew how culture had changed? It was ludicrous to think she might recognize the song at all. Her mother could even have written the lullaby herself, although Morgana doubted that. Her voice had a gorgeous tone, but it was clearly untrained.
"Rainbows are visions, but only illusions. Rainbows have nothing to hide. So we've been told and some choose to believe it—but I know they're wrong! Wait and see…"
When her mother ran a gentle hand over Morgana's fuzzy head, she decided to test her new limbs, reaching out clumsily to clutch at her mother's wrist. The woman laughed again, cooing at her. "My little Datura…"
Datura? Was that her name? She babbled a little to her mother as she considered it. Such a strange name for a baby. She had rarely encountered Daturae—they were flowers brought from over the western sea—but they were members of the nightshade family and thus were extremely toxic. Some species could be considered beautiful, she supposed, but they were more notable to her for their uses in potion-making. The plants, when simply ingested, induced hallucinations and delirium, but they were key ingredients in many potions facilitating Divination. Far-seeing potions, astral projection aides—and Sacred Datura was the main additive in her most important brew.
A strange name for an infant, all things considered.
Her mother's piercing emerald eyes glinted as she smiled down at her. "I was scared, all through this pregnancy, but no matter what happens now, you are worth it." She spoke the last few words almost reverently.
Morgana had never borne a child herself. Her life had focused on unraveling the secrets Magic held and pushing the boundaries of her blinkered society, and the only man she ever wished that kind of life with had abandoned her. She had loved her young apprentice, Mordred, as a son, but she had never faced the terrors of childbirth. She could not imagine what her mother had gone through. Even still, it seemed to her that there was more to what her mother was saying—more she had feared than just the responsibility of bringing a helpless babe into the world.
Morgana babbled a question, and her mother caressed her cheek. "Oh, my darling. I hope you never understand." Morgana let out a puff of air that greatly resembled a frustrated huff, and her mother laughed. "Such a smart girl…" Clearly, her mother thought she was reacting to her tone, not the words themselves. That was likely for the best.
The door to the room burst open with a loud bang, and Morgana shrank back, twisting her head as best she could, but her body would not cooperate well enough for her to see. The brief panic in her mother's eyes did not escape Morgana's notice, but it was quickly smothered under an amused sort of affection as she glanced over Morgana to the door.
"Lily-flower!" A deep voice, loud with excitement, trilled as the man himself bounded over to the bed, taking a stance beside her mother to peer at Morgana herself. "This is our daughter? She's perfect…" his voice trailed off, thick with awe. Morgana let out a slow breath, eyes widening. She had never heard such admiration focused on her. She knew it was simply a father's pride in their newborn child, not anything to do with her, but for once… she almost did not care. She had always sought to be recognized on her own accomplishments, but there was something to be said for the unconditional love a parent bore for their newborn child, before it was complicated by the ravages of time.
Her mother smiled, but Morgana caught the way her arms tightened around her. Was that pain in her voice? "Yes, she is, James. Meet Datura Lily Potter."
Was that entire phrase her name? Titles, she was accustomed to, and le Fay had accompanied her name occasionally, but were three names common in this time, this place? Her parents called each other by one name only, unless 'Lily' and 'flower' counted as separate names. The 'flower' part seemed to her to be only an affectionate lengthening, not part of the formal title. Perhaps only the first name of the set was used commonly.
James's calloused hand reached up to tweak Morgana's nose, and she crinkled it in response, eliciting a laugh from both adults. "Where were you?" Lily asked softly, as though she were trying to avoid sounding accusatory.
James sighed before kissing Lily lightly on her forehead and brandishing a wand to transfigure the bedside table into a revolting pink armchair. Lily rolled her eyes at it, but Morgana gaped in shock. "I'm sorry, Lily-flower. I came as soon as I heard, but Albus had me staking out a shady bar in Knockturn. Moony couldn't get the message to me that you were in labor until I got back to headquarters." He rested a hand on the crook of Lily's elbow, and Morgana suspected he would have held her hand had both of hers not been occupied supporting the infant. "I should have been there. It kills me that you had to go through that with only Marlene and Sirius there to help you. Merlin knows I wouldn't let the man anywhere near my birthing bed." He smirked as he said it. Merlin? What has he to do with this?
"That's an image I could have done without," Lily laughed. "And Poppy was there, too," Lily corrected with a smile, leaning into his embrace. "It's alright, James. I know you would have been here if you had the choice."
James grimaced. "It's ludicrous to me how you call her Poppy—that she lets you call her Poppy. She'll always be Madam Pomfrey to me, the scariest matron this side of the Channel."
Without context, Morgana was unable to parse out the meaning of their words, so she let their conversation fade into the background of her thoughts, focusing instead on a new mystery.
In this life, she was not born of the wild magic, as Morgan le Fay has been. Her magic then was born from the sea, the wind, the fire, the earth. Not from her parents, who were themselves blind to the magical world. But Datura Lily Potter's father was a wizard, and likely her mother was, too. That… bothered her more than it should. She prodded gently at her magic, buried herself in its comforting waves. It felt unformed, true, but it still felt like hers. Troubled, she let out a little huff and frowned as much as she could convince her infantile facial features to cooperate. There was a statistical difference between those born of wild magic and those who inherited it. Her magic should have transformed completely with her rebirth, but it had merely reverted to a childhood state. As she aged, it would tighten and accumulate, but it would still be that of a wild-born witch. Why had she not inherited her parents' magic? Was this another gift from Magic—a way to connect her past to her present, to stay herself even though she was christened with a different name and given to a different family?
As she considered the ramifications, her parents finished up their conversation, and some time later, James startled her into a loud cry by lifting her from her mother's arms, hugging her close to his chest and humming quietly as he rocked her. Holding her securely, he spoke to Lily. "I'll set her in the crib. You should get some rest, love. I'm sure it's been a long day for you."
Lily mumbled something back, clearly already halfway into slumber, and James chuckled, whispering to Morgana. "Mummy's cute when she's exhausted, isn't she, little lady?"
Morgana burbled quietly, touched by the adoration in his tone. He truly loved Lily, it seemed. Perhaps this childhood would be kinder, more affectionate than her last.
Were it not for her proficiency in the Mind Arts, she would have perished of embarrassment the first time she needed her diaper changed. As it was, she merely sank into the depths of her mind, cordoned off the part of her that felt shame over her bodily processes as well as the part that viewed her helplessness as anathema to her very being. It was humbling, after cultivating such a reputation as a fearsome Dark witch, to be reduced to this: a helpless babe. Fortunately, the other major issue Morgana had anticipated, boredom, proved to be far less problematic. Simply put, her parents' lives were far from uninteresting. She had difficulty understanding much of what they spoke about, her experiences not having prepared her for life in this time period, but from what her parents and their visitors said, she gathered that they were embroiled in a covert war, and her parents and their friends were soldiers on the front lines—or had been, until Lily fell pregnant. Their general seemed to be a wizard named Albus Dumbledore, and from the way they spoke of him, he was both greatly admired and the subject of great amusement. The contradiction baffled her, and she wondered what sort of a man could be so respected and yet so disregarded.
Despite the state of their society, Lily and James seemed happy, doting over her. It helped that Morgana only ever kicked up a fuss when her diaper needed changing, or her mother failed to feed her promptly enough, or when something was otherwise truly amiss. She never tore them from their sleep in the dead of night with panicked wails, or bawled to the extent that she was unable to be soothed. She was a mostly placid baby, and her parents seemed to appreciate it. She got the impression that her existence was mending something in their relationship that had been torn apart by the stress of Lily's pregnancy, though Morgana occasionally noticed the odd look of pain overshadowing joy on her mother's face.
It was a couple months after her birth that Morgana finally unearthed the reason for that hidden anguish.
James had been absent all day after leaving before dawn for an 'Order mission'. The 'Order of the Phoenix', she had pieced together, was the name of the covert organization Albus Dumbledore had formed—and her parents had joined—to combat the forces of a Dark Lord whose name she had yet to hear spoken. His followers, however, seemed to be known as 'Death Eaters', a title she found rather dramatically overdone. She personally would have opted for something far subtler.
None of the family friends had visited that day, and her mother, in James's absence, had sunk into a withdrawn and melancholy mood. When she was not feeding or changing Morgana, she carried her from one room to another, either rocking the baby in silence while she stared at something only she could see or talking to Morgana in soft, sad tones. Morgana, having developed a fierce love for Lily that she had never felt for her first mother, tried her best to comfort her, but as a months-old infant, there was little she could do but babble cutely and tug at her mother's hair. When darkness fell, Lily retreated to the sitting room, clutching Morgana to her chest as she stood by the window and stared out into the night. Morgana burbled in question, and Lily began to speak.
"We're fighting to protect the ones we love. For me, that's you—" here she shifted Morgana in her arms to tap her nose lightly. "And James, and all our friends. I've sacrificed a career for this fight. My parents died in this war. Friends have died in this war. And I thought it was all so that we could make the world a better place. I believed that I was better than his followers because they hurt people when they succumbed to their darker impulses." Her voice rose when she spoke of her friends and family suffering, but it trailed off into a whisper by the time she admitted, "But I've done something unforgivable."
Morgana froze, her eyes blinking wider. Lily was so loving, so moral. What could she have done, that it tormented her so? With a small frown, she dismissed such naive notions. Even the best people were capable of hurting others. She knew that better than most.
"Your father would have loved you, I think."
Morgana's tiny mouth fell open. Her father? It was clear that Lily was not referring to James. Lily laughed softly, bitterly. "I'm not sure how well he would have shown it. And time has proven repeatedly that I'm pants at predicting his behavior, so maybe he wouldn't have loved you at all, or maybe he would have been the proudest father on the block. I'll never know," she said wistfully. "I'll never tell him."
Morgana, using her Mind Arts, committed this entire event to her memory. This confession was more for Lily's own sake than for her daughter's, but Morgana knew that she would want to remember it.
"I love James," Lily said adamantly, and Morgana knew it to be true. "I could never leave him. And I should never have done what I did." She rocked Morgana gently. "I'd regret it, if it hadn't given me you." Morgana burbled, and as she'd hoped, a brief smile ghosted over Lily's face.
"I thought about telling James. God, I thought about it so many times. But it would destroy him. And I know I'll never do it again, so what's the harm, right?" She laughed bitterly. "That's the rationalization, anyway. The truth is, I'm scared. Scared he'll leave me, scared he'll hate me… and scared he'll forgive me." Her tone implied that the last was the most terrifying of all. "And I call myself a Gryffindor… I've never deserved his devotion. Never. Even when we were kids and I hated his guts, I knew I didn't deserve that level of adoration."
Morgana clutched at her mother's fiery locks. It's never really about what we deserve, she thought, memories surfacing of brown eyes and an ever-curious brogue.
"I didn't deserve Sev's friendship, either," Lily said, gently uncurling Morgana's chubby fingers and moving them away from her hair. Who was Sev? "Severus," Lily corrected with a frown. "Or I suppose it's simply Mr. Snape to me now. We're not friends anymore, and I won't pretend that that isn't my fault, too. I just couldn't stand it—the vile friends he was making, the sickly circles around his eyes, and all that anger in his voice as he delved deeper and deeper into the Dark Arts. I couldn't stand to watch him ruin himself—become this whole other person as the clever, curious boy I met just… drowned beneath the surface. So when he called me that awful name, I just… shut him out. Until that night." The night Datura was conceived, Morgana inferred, a bit disoriented by thinking of herself in the third person.
Lily's eyes drifted back to the night sky. "I don't know what I was thinking. James and I, we'd been fighting. My parents had just died, and I was… searching for a little piece of home, I suppose. A link to my childhood. The war was escalating, more and more Muggles and Muggleborns were dying, and I had no idea how to cope. I went out with a few of the girls for a night of drinking, found myself at the Leaky."
Morgana assumed the Leaky was some sort of tavern, and she had noticed over the last few months that 'Muggleborn' seemed to be their term for wild-born witches and wizards, 'Muggle' referring to non-witches and non-wizards. That seemed somewhat oblique to her—a wild-born witch's magic was not inherited from her parents, literally not 'born' of 'Muggles'. It was granted by Magic herself. The term did not adequately describe the phenomenon. Furthermore, they seemed to differentiate between those that inherited their magic, separating them into categories of 'pureblood' and 'halfblood', the very concept of which seemed ludicrous to her.
"The girls all had homes or families or jobs to go to, and I wasn't eager to head back home to James just to be dragged into another row. So I stayed out past all my friends' leaving. Severus walked into the pub, long after dark, and by that point, I was drunker than I had ever been in my life." Lily's lips twisted into a smirk. "Which, admittedly, was not all that drunk. Not drunk enough that I couldn't have known what I was doing."
Lily sighed. "We talked, and I could tell he hadn't been taking care of himself, but for that night, he wasn't acting like the angry teenager he had been. He was more thoughtful, maybe sadder, but more… like the Severus I had known. Loved, maybe, though not the way he wanted me to. Not the way I love James." Tears welled in her eyes. "Sirius would kill me for talking like that, you know. 'You betrayed him, and you still have the gall to sit there swearing you love him?' But I do… I truly do. I haven't been a good wife," Lily admitted. "But I'll be a good mother," she vowed, kissing Morgana's forehead. "Then maybe some good will have come out of this."
Lily certainly lived up to those words, in Morgana's opinion. And it was a good thing, for not long after that one-sided conversation, it became evident to everyone, including Morgana, that Lily had fallen pregnant again. James was overjoyed, and all of James and Lily's friends teased them for it, but a few months before the birth, things changed drastically for all of them.
Morgana was finally granted the opportunity to meet the esteemed Albus Dumbledore, leader of the Order of the Phoenix. The old, bearded man dressed in the strangest clothes. All clothing from this period appeared strange to Morgana, true—she was used to flowing dresses and loose tunics, ritual robes and elaborate braids. But Albus Dumbledore's long, layered robes were an eyesore unlike anything she had seen in this life or her first. Orange and purple patches smattered across lime green robes, and the ribbons woven into his ankle-length beard were a veritable rainbow of colors.
He entered the house through the fireplace, a sudden whoosh of air and a wave of heat signaling his arrival. He coughed as he wiped the dust from his robes, though Morgana could only see it because, at the time, James was laying on the floor, lifting her above his head as she indulgently giggled for him. Lily's singing filtered in from the kitchen. "I'll send an SOS to the world. I'll send an SOS to the world. I hope that someone gets my, I hope that someone gets my message in a bottle."
James scrambled to his feet when he noticed Albus, hugging Morgana to his chest. "Professor Dumbledore!"
"Call me Albus, my dear boy," the old wizard smiled, the lines on his face becoming even more pronounced as a result. "We're not at Hogwarts anymore."
Hogwarts? What a ludicrous name for a school. And had her father—James, rather—attended Hogwarts? If that was the case, it was a wonder that none of the adults had mentioned the place by name thus far. They spoke of their school days often. Had she simply missed it?
"Er, right. Sorry, sir." James shifted awkwardly.
"That's quite alright," Albus replied amiably. "It takes some getting used to, I'm sure."
"Would you like a seat?" James asked, gesturing to the couch with his free hand. "I can ask Lily to brew us up some tea, if you fancy a drink. She's already in the kitchen."
As though on cue, Lily's singing grew louder. "Love can mend your life, but love can break your heart." Wryly, Morgana considered that Lily revealed more of herself than she might like in her newfound love for that song.
"Perhaps not, my boy," Albus said solemnly, joints creaking audibly as he settled on the couch. "I come with bad news, I fear, and it concerns the two of you."
Worried, James tilted his head to call into the kitchen. "Lily! Can you come in here?" His tone was unusually serious for the typically-upbeat man, but as an adult, James Potter knew when was the time for jokes and when was the time for sober discussion.
"What's wrong, James?" Lily asked, hurrying into the living room, wiping her hands on her apron as she did so. The apron was tied loosely to make room for her distended belly.
"Prof—Albus has something to talk to us about," James said, crossing the room to kiss her cheek and tug her down onto a loveseat beside him, leaving Albus and his bulky robes the entire couch to sprawl upon. "Come sit down."
Lily glanced at Albus worriedly, keeping ahold of James's hand for comfort. Morgana could just barely see from where James held her. "Did one of our friends—?"
"Ah, no, no, my dear," Albus assured her, and Lily and James both let out a breath of relief. "It is somewhat more personal than even that."
James's expression just grew confused, but the light of panic entered Lily's eyes, poorly concealed. Thankfully, Morgana noted that Albus was too busy staring at the babe in James's arms to have caught it. "This is her, then? Young Miss Datura?"
Lily seemed ready to hex him for changing the subject, but she grit her teeth and answered, "Yes. James can set her in the playpen while we talk, if the subject will be serious."
"I'm afraid it will be," Albus answered, turning his gaze back to Lily. "Her eyes are intelligent, far beyond her age. And her magic is… well, she is quite the puzzle." Morgana's eyes widened, and she burbled inadvertently. Had this old wizard noticed her wild magic? Not many had the skills necessary to identify such things in other people. Perhaps she had underestimated Albus Dumbledore. "You two will have a brilliant witch on your hands, come a few years."
This brought a proud smile to both parents' faces, though Lily's was reluctant. James rose from the couch, telling Morgana sternly, playfully, "Now, little miss, you're going to sit there and play nice while we talk to the man with the long beard. Can you do that for your old dad?"
Oh, he needn't ask. Her lips would be sealed shut as if by magic for this conversation. If it was so important, she planned to miss nothing. She babbled a response, knowing she'd be expected to react to his tone of voice. Recently, she'd been trying to use actual words instead of merely vocalizations, but her little-used muscles had difficulty forming the syllables. A few would turn out right, but the final product would be, on the whole, unrecognizable.
With a tense smile and a quiet, "That's my little girl," he deposited her in the snow-white playpen, and she toddled backwards a little before her muscles forced her to return to a crawl. The playpen was a recent addition to her daily schedule—when she started crawling, they began to send her to this padded enclosure so that falling would not damage her. They seemed to expect her to try to climb out, but she never did. She was a baby now, and vulnerable, and though her magic would protect her somewhat, she was not foolish enough to risk her well-being on something so unnecessary. James and Sirius had seemed the most disappointed, the latter calling her a 'little rule-follower' and the former challenging the latter to a duel for her honor until Lily barged in to chide them for shooting jinxes around the baby. The bout was far from serious, but it was interesting to see that, of the traditions that had been discarded through the years, that one remained.
She crawled over to peek through the bars at the adults, though she made sure to fix her eyes rather obviously on a picture on the wall—the shadowy painting of a Grim that Sirius smirked at every time he noticed it—so that it would seem she was distracted by it, not their conversation.
Soft footsteps sounded against the carpet as James returned to his seat. "What is it, Albus?" James asked, and from her peripheral vision, she saw him reclaim Lily's hand.
"The new school year is on the horizon," Albus began. "Our Divination teacher, I'm sure you remember, recently resigned, intending to relocate to Bora Bora, I'm told, in light of the war." Lily and James shared a glance as Dumbledore continued. "I've been interviewing to fill the position, and today, a certain one of those candidates said something very troubling. My good friends," he said, peering gravely through his half-moon spectacles. "She delivered a prophecy. One that may concern the two of you."
Lily gasped. "A prophecy?"
"About us?" James added.
"Well, not as such. It concerns… a child," Dumbledore said, gaze lingering pointedly on Lily, whose hand flew to protectively hover over her abdomen.
"You think—Harry?" she blurted.
"Harry?" Albus asked, a twinkle entering his eyes. "Is that what you have decided to name him? Harry Potter? What a lovely name." It seemed a silly name to Morgana. Who'd want to be associated with a hairy potter?
"Harry James Potter," James said, a hint of a smile surfacing through the worry in his countenance. "But Albus—"
"I believe it concerns him, yes. The prophecy speaks of a baby boy born towards the end of July. That is your expected due date, yes, my dear?" he asked Lily.
"And Alice's…" Lily whispered. "My god, will they be—?"
"I have informed her and Frank of the dangers, as well," Albus assured her. "The Longbottoms have gone into hiding, and I suggest you do the same."
"Go into hiding?" James asked incredulously. "That's bloody extreme. Merlin, what exactly does this prophecy say?"
Morgana had not quite become accustomed to the propensity of witches and wizards these days to invoke Merlin's name. It confused and irritated her, to hear him spoken of so often, and so like a deity.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches," Albus recited to James and Lily's horrified gasps. Morgana gave up the pretense of staring at the painting in favor of gazing at Albus Dumbledore, searing every word into her memory with magic. "Born to those who have thrice defied him. Born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."
This was the first indication Morgana had that Magic might have sent her here for a greater purpose. She was to help her brother defeat a Dark Lord? That was quite the turnabout from having been a Dark Lady herself, albeit not one who waged a violent war against her people. Or perhaps there was more to it than at first there seemed. Morgana quickly shelved those ideas for later examination, opting instead to listen further.
"Nonspecific, I know," Albus said softly. "But I have done the Arithmancy calculations personally. I have reason to believe that this prophecy will be relevant soon, and in Wizarding Britain."
"So the Dark Lord…" Lily said, an agonized breath leaving her lungs. "It's him."
"Voldemort," Albus agreed, finally saying the name. Voldemort… she blinked. Just one name, when most in this time had at least two. What did that say about him?
"You've always been the bravest of all of us, sir," James said faintly. "None of us even say the name anymore."
"Now, now, I'm far from that, my boy," Albus said demurely, and suddenly Morgana understood why people both admired him and viewed him as something of a coot. "I'm afraid I'm just a silly old man trying to make the world a little better."
James laughed, but Lily's face showed nothing but her terror for her family. "He'll be after us," she said, and James's smile faded. "After our baby."
"Only if he knows," James protested.
"He knows," Lily stated grimly. "Not to be disrespectful, sir." She fluttered a hand towards Albus. "But you hoard information like a niffler hoards shiny things, and there's nothing more sensitive than this. If he didn't already know, you wouldn't be telling us."
Though by all rights he should have been insulted, Albus merely looked saddened by her words.
"Does he?" James asked him tightly.
Albus sighed. "I'm afraid so. Not… not all of it. Voldemort's agent only managed to overhear the beginning of the prophecy before he was caught. But he knows enough that he will be hunting you."
"Merlin," James said, slumping against the loveseat. "This means no more Order missions, then. If we even set foot in Diagon Alley…"
"It'll just be us and the children, in hiding, and for how long?" Lily added despairingly. Until this war is over. Until either you or Voldemort are dead. No one said the words.
"You may be allowed the occasional visitor," Albus attempted to reassure them. "So long as we remain cautious about it."
This was little comfort to them, it appeared. A few minutes later, an alarm sounded from the kitchen, and Lily left to remove the casserole from the oven. The three adults talked all through dinner, James feeding Morgana baby cereal and some mashed bananas without his normal routine of making silly faces to elicit giggles from her. She hypothesized that the fact that she was drawn to react as a baby would in such circumstances was a byproduct of the magic used to reincarnate her. She suspected it would manifest differently as she grew older and the gap between her mental age and her physical age narrowed. If her suspicions proved accurate, she would always retain the memories and talents gained in her former life, but her maturity and hormones would be influenced to an extent by her physical age.
Unfortunately, that also meant she would have to endure the madness of puberty twice. It was also a blessing, however. Right now, her body was so underdeveloped that her thoughts were mostly governed by that of her adult self, and that was all that was needed. It was hardly difficult to act like a baby. But, were it not for the magic, she would eventually be a five-year old with the mind of a fully grown witch. That would not be so easy to hide, and quite frankly, she would feel like a lecher interacting with others of her physical age. But if she was correct, when her brain developed further, the magic would stop compensating, and she would act more childlike. She would remember being an adult, but her brain, hormones, emotions, and maturity would match her physical age.
Magic truly never ceased to astound her.
Night had fallen by the time Albus Dumbledore departed from the Potters' house. A course of action had been decided. The Potters would nominate a secret keeper and invoke the Fidelius Charm to keep them hidden. Morgana had some familiarity with that spell, having considered it when devising the protections she would place on Avalon. She had discarded it, however, because its use was utterly asinine.
That was, perhaps, a tad bit harsh. The spell had some appealing qualities. It was nearly impossible to break or circumvent, for instance. But the risks of the spell outweighed the benefits by far. For one thing, casting the Fidelius Charm on a domicile, for instance, severely limited the scope of other enchantments one could place on said domicile. Many protective charms reacted violently with, or were negated by, the Fidelius Charm. Most blood wards and heritage protections would lie dormant on a domicile protected by Fidelius, so a castle, say, hidden by Fidelius would not lose the protections accumulated over generations of a singular hereditary line governing it, but those protections would not be able to activate until the Fidelius was removed.
Furthermore, even the mechanics of the Fidelius left much to be desired. Since the Secret-Keeper could not be a person living under the Fidelius themselves, it required an additional person in whom the people seeking protection must place their complete trust, and people who were so desperate as to totally erase their location from the collective memory rarely had the luxury of extending that kind of trust. Even if they could find a reliable Secret-Keeper, if that Secret-Keeper were to be found and killed, the secret would transfer to any individual in on the secret that was not living under its protection, so they would have to place an extraordinary amount of trust in those people, as well. Otherwise, the instant the Secret-Keeper died, they would be forced to abandon the Fidelius altogether.
Knowing this, Morgana had to retreat into her Occlumency to stave off the fear and dread that threatened to overwhelm her. Were she capable of communicating, she could have suggested at least six alternatives without a second of thought. The Tarnished Ward, for instance, which required only talent and a blood sacrifice under the full moon.
But she was an infant, and there was nothing she could do. Having heard the prophecy, and possessing something of a pessimistic outlook, Morgana suspected her parents would not live to see it unfold.
In a rare moment of her infant body overwhelming her mind, Morgana burst into quiet tears, sniffles attracting her mother's attention. "Oh, baby, what's wrong?" Lily asked worriedly, hurrying over to peer into the playpen. Seeing nothing to explain the baby's sudden upset, she hoisted Morgana into her arms, above her pregnancy bump, and rocked her, murmuring in a soothing voice. Wrapped in her mother's arms, Morgana wept for her family's future.
The visits from friends and family dwindled. Mary Macdonald's death cast a pall over the Potter house. Although she had not been particularly close to James or Lily, she was a classmate and a fellow Order member, and her murder by Death Eaters served to remind them that any of them could be next.
With help from Sirius, Lily cast the Fidelius Charm over the house, entrusting their secret to a mousy man named Peter Pettigrew. Though James called him one of his closest mates, Morgana had seen little evidence of it save the fondness in James's voice when he spoke of their school days. While Marlene McKinnon, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin were all staples around the Potter house, Peter rarely visited, and unlike those three, he never gave Morgana anything more than a cursory glance. He never seemed especially fond of Lily, either—though considering what Lily had confessed to her, Morgana supposed it was possible his instincts might not be so far off the mark.
After the Fidelius settled, visitors were less frequent. Sirius, Marlene, and Remus still stopped by occasionally, but they all bore signs of intense stress. Remus, who had always seemed a little worse-for-wear, now had more dark circle than he had eyes, and his skin was sickly pale around the full moon. His shoulders were constantly hunched over as though he were being hunted, and his voice was strained. Sirius was his usual jovial self, most of the time, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes that only intensified as the weeks passed. Marlene's frazzled appearance during her visits spoke volumes; the normally meticulously composed woman would show up with orange hair barely brushed, clothes thrown on, and only faint traces of makeup adorning her face.
Lily and James were haunted by fear for themselves and their unborn child. The threat of the prophecy overshadowed their every action, and the stress of being cooped up made them snappish. They were constantly fighting, though Morgana tried her best to distract them whenever an argument became too heated. As a result, her speech and mobility were improving by leaps and bounds. When she showed she was able to walk and form words, albeit not reliably, her parents broke from their melancholy to celebrate the milestones. Sirius brought some levity to the household when, seeing her stumbling steps, he immediately nicknamed her Bambi. The adults laughed, anyway, but the reference merely confused Morgana. Regardless, she smiled at the affection in his voice.
True to the prophecy, Harry James Potter entered the world on the final day of July, and Lily and James wept that he had not waited just one day longer. Lily's water broke in the early morning, and Sirius kept Morgana company as Marlene delivered the baby. In a twist of fate Morgana found endlessly interesting, James was present for this birth, the birth of his trueborn child, as he had not been for hers. He held Lily's hand through the pain, and when the screams faded, Morgana toddled into the bedroom, Sirius's hand holding hers in support.
When they reached the bed, Sirius scooped her up and held her where she could see the newborn. He was fuzzy and pink, with a full head of messy black hair and pale blue eyes that she viscerally knew would soon darken to a piercing green.
"Datura," James told her proudly. "This is your brother, Harry."
"Harry," Morgana repeated. "Brud—" her clumsy tongue slipped halfway through, and she was forced to try again. "Brother." She reached out and took the infant's tiny hand in hers. "Pwo—" It slipped again, but she continued stubbornly, determined to offer them some peace of mind. "Protect." She would be there for him, even if fate ensured that his parents could not.
Awe flickered over the adults' faces, and Sirius smoothed his hand over her short red hair, pressing a kiss to her temple. "That's right, Bambi. Protect him." His voice was rough.
Lily began to cry softly, and James slipped an arm around her, quiet tears in his eyes, as well. Marlene silently waved her wand over Lily and the baby both, her lips pressed together grimly. Morgana recognized the spells as routine postnatal medical scans.
Marlene left not long after, but Sirius stayed the night, gifting Lily and James a single night of sleep by tending to Harry when he woke screaming. Morgana was a light sleeper, so she woke each time her brother did, and she laid in her crib, staring blankly into the dimly-lit room as she brainstormed ways to fulfill her promise to her family. She felt a protectiveness for Harry Potter fiercer than she had ever had for anyone else. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders, but if she had any say, he would not have to carry it alone.
The downside of their first child being the placid Morgana was that James and Lily were not remotely prepared for how trying a baby Harry would be. For the first month, he cried incessantly, waking them several times a night with his panicked screams. Even later on, he cried far more frequently than his sister ever had. When his teeth began to surface, he wailed like a banshee, and he gnawed on everything: stuffed animals, toys, furniture, people. He had a particular fondness for biting Padfoot's ear, and the dog-who-was-really-a-man shied away from playing with the baby in his Animagus form until that phase had passed.
The real trouble, at least for Morgana, began when, not long after he finished teething, Harry started to show signs of accidental magic. This led James and Lily to realize for the first time that Morgana had yet to reach that milestone herself. Predictably, they panicked, and Marlene had to calmly reassure them that there was no indication that their daughter would be a squib and that she was likely just a late bloomer.
Meanwhile, a guilt-ridden Morgana was forced to watch it all, wishing she could grant her parents some peace of mind but not having the slightest idea how to fake accidental magic. She had the talent for wandless magic, of course, and she could likely still do it even with an infant's magical core, but she feared it would still be rather obvious she was performing actual spells rather than affecting the world through uncontrolled bursts of sheer willpower. So she simply refrained from using any detectable magic at all. And so her parents fretted.
When Harry was eight months old, the Potter family received tragic news. Morgana laid on her stomach on the carpet of their living room, passing a rubber ball back and forth with Remus as he taught her a children's rhyme.
"One, two, buckle my shoe," he instructed with the utmost seriousness.
"One, two, bucks… buckle mah… my shoe," she repeated dutifully, smiling a little as the ball rolled to a stop beside his shoe.
"Good," he praised, rolling the ball back. "Three, four, knock at the door."
She grimaced, certain that this would be the hardest yet. Remus chuckled at her disgruntled expression. "Shr...Three, four, knox...knock at the door." She threw the ball a little harder at him in retaliation for his amusement at her expense. This just caused him to laugh harder. "Unct…Uncle Moony!" she huffed, and his laughter subsided.
"Sorry, Datura. I shouldn't have laughed at you. You're trying very hard and you're doing well." He seemed genuine in his praise, but Morgana had to resist rolling her eyes. To think, at one point, she had ruled a realm, been the most feared witch in Britain. Now, she was struggling to speak a coherent sentence.
Remus began to recite the next verse, but Sirius interrupted him by stepping out of the fireplace. "Moony," he said, voice rough from grief. Clearly, something was amiss. "Where are James and Lily?"
"In the bedroom with Harry," Remus replied, maneuvering to a standing position, concern on his face. "What's happened, Sirius?"
"Marlene," Sirius said shortly, patting Remus on the shoulder as he breezed by to step into James and Lily's bedroom. His behavior spoke volumes about his state of mind. Reeling, Remus stared blankly after him for a few seconds, then turned to Morgana, who was too shocked to pretend she had not understood. Marlene McKinnon was a healer. She was so full of attitude and compassion and life. And now she was gone.
"Datura…" Remus began uncertainly. "Do you…"
In lieu of answering, Morgana toddled over to Remus and hugged him around the knees, burying her face into his leg.
He rubbed her back soothingly. "We'll be alright…." Morgana could tell he was not sure he believed his own words.
Grief-stricken voices filtered in from the bedroom, but Morgana blocked out their words, not interested in compounding her own sadness.
That growing feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach told her that Marlene's death was just the prelude to a series of further tragedies that would come to pass.
More Order members perished over the next few weeks, but thankfully none that were so close to the Potter family. Lily and James were worn down by grief and fear, but they stopped arguing and started clinging to one another instead. They endeavored to be cheerful for their children, which manifested itself in many ways.
For one, they found a stray cat and took it in, in the hopes it would provide Morgana with something of a playmate, she assumed. But Morgana, who usually adored cats, loathed the feline with a vengeance. She had never before been on such even footing with one. She could not recall encountering any cats in her first childhood. Likely she had, but time had allowed the memories to slip away. But now, she was toddler-sized, and the cat was rather large and affectionate, so she found herself being bowled over very often when it tried to rub against her. And it always seemed to happen the instant whatever adult was supervising her had turned their back.
The first warning that something was amiss the day of October 31 was the cat's disappearance. James and Lily merely wondered about it in passing, assuming it would show its furry face eventually, but Morgana began to fret. Cats had senses beyond those of humans, even, sometimes, magical ones. If it sensed disaster… She stuck close to her brother that day.
Every time she could—that is to say, when her parents turned their backs or left her unattended for more than a few seconds—she added protections to Harry and his crib. Though only after reaching out with her magical senses to realize, to her utter astonishment, that no one had bothered to put any in place. Were they placing all their faith solely in the impenetrability of the Fidelius Charm? Idiots, Morgana thought angrily, with all the love in her heart.
She wove all the barriers around the crib she could, a well as individual protections over Harry. The most potent, most reliable protections required either time, rituals, or sacrifices, and she had access to none of those, so they would be frustratingly ineffective if this Dark Lord deserved his title, but they would likely thwart any of his goons. She laid as many wards as she could, but her magic was not what it used to be, and she eventually exhausted her store. Lily laughed at her indulgently when she climbed into Harry's crib with him and laid her head down wearily. "Tired, sweetie?" she asked.
"Yes…" Morgana muttered. "Sleep."
Lily laughed again, and walked over to smooth a hand through Morgana's hair. "Take a nap, then. We'll still be here when you wake up." Apparently her mother had noticed her anxious energy throughout the day.
What if you aren't? Morgana thought as she drifted off to sleep.
When she awoke, it was to screams. No light filtered in through the window, and Morgana thought with dread, Samhain night. I should have known! If he seeks to complete a ritual with Harry's death…
She clutched her baby brother tightly. Lily yelled downstairs, voice shrill with fear, "James?"
From the front room, they heard, "Lily! Take the children and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" There was an explosive crash, and Morgana recognized it as the front door blasting inward.
"Avada Kedavra!" came the hissed spell, and Morgana was momentarily hopeful, until she heard the cackling that clearly had not come from her father, and knew who had been the victor of that battle. Why that spell? Morgana thought in the part of her that was not sick with grief and terror, not for herself but for her family. She had already died once—another time would not be much different. It's too kind for such a vicious Dark Lord. An instant, painless death? There are so many more spells he could have chosen to kill with. She supposed she should simply be grateful he had not suffered.
"James!" Lily screamed with a visceral agony that Morgana suspected she herself would never know. Lily quickly stood before the crib, blocking it with her body as the dreaded Dark Lord appeared in the doorway. He was cloaked in black, but his dark red eyes pricked at Morgana's memory. The name of a ritual ghosted through her mind, but it was gone in a second.
"Not them!" Lily gasped, brandishing her wand. "Not my children! Please—I'll do anything—"
"Stand aside," the Dark Lord ordered in his sibilant voice. When Lily made no move, he repeated impatiently. "Stand aside, girl!"
But Lily muttered under her breath, wand waving, and Morgana recognized an old spell, ancient even in her time. She did place protections, Morgana realized. This was her plan.
Just as the incantation was complete, Voldemort's spell left his wand. "Avada Kedavra."
He stepped coldly over Lily's limp body to examine the children in the crib. "Foolish Mudblood," Voldemort said as he flicked his wand through the air, casting all sorts of diagnostic spells. "Impressive wards," he noticed, a hint of admiration in his voice. "It will not be enough to save you."
Morgana glared at him fiercely, incantations running through her mind. Aquam ligno, she cast silently and wandlessly through the wards, and all the water in his body began to move at her direction. She forced him backwards before he could react, but he cast the counterspell after scant seconds of tortured muscles spasming, before she could enact his death.
"Mollia nervos," he hissed to cancel her spell, then cast a powerful barrier to protect him as he prised the wards apart. Baby instincts momentarily plaguing her, Morgana pouted in frustration, but she quickly pulled herself together, peppering the shield with barrier-breakers. Unfortunately, the barrier was too powerful for most of the spells she was able to perform with her reduced core. She could feel herself tiring as he slowly, meticulously took apart the wards one by one, and she stopped her spells, waiting for the inevitable breach of the barrier, saving her energy for one last strike. She prayed Lily's sacrifice worked, for it seemed less and less likely that Morgana would be able to fend him off herself. Finally, he canceled the last of her protections.
Before he could raise his wand, she struck. Venena anguis, she incanted. A serpent formed of darkness materialized from her fingers, slithering through the air, smoke curling from it, and it bared its fangs at Voldemort.
He laughed. One of the Darkest spells there was, painful and nearly impossible to block, and he laughed. He hissed coldly, and she realized with a cold fear that she had gravely miscalculated. He's a Parselmouth.
The snake stopped, then turned on her. She hastily cast the little-known counterspell, and the serpent vanished. Voldemort seemed surprised, laughing again. "I have heard of accidental magic occasionally taking the form of a recognized spell, but this… You will grow to be a talented dark witch, I'm sure. If I allow you to live."
She had no more magic left to resist as he traced his wand across her face, and doing something so asinine as biting his hand and stealing his wand would be only a stopgap measure. So she did nothing, glaring at him fiercely.
"It seems a waste, to deprive the world of such talent. Perhaps I shall train you up, raise you to follow in my footsteps."
She scowled, and he cast a freezing spell over her. She was unhurt, but she could not move her limbs. It was stronger than a petrificus totalus, which she could have countered, had she possessed the strength.
"For now," he continued. "I shall deal with your prophesied brother." He lifted her frozen body out of the crib with a simple wingardium leviosa, turning his attention to Harry. "Avada Kedavra," he hissed, brandishing his wand, and Morgana prayed with her whole being that Lily's sacrifice worked.
Apparently, Magic was listening, for Voldemort's body disintegrated in a blast of power that bombarded her senses. Harry began to wail in his crib, and, the petrifaction having worn off with Voldemort's death, she sighed in relief. Harry was still alive, though he seemed to be in some pain. She climbed back into the crib, soothing him with a hand on his cheek and humming under her breath. Tears pricked at her eyes as she passed her mother's cold body on the floor, and she let them fall as she examined her brother for wounds. With dread, she noticed the scar oozing blood on his forehead. Sowilo, she translated. What could it mean?
Hugging her brother tightly, she waited for someone to discover them.
As it turned out, she was not left waiting long. Her and Voldemort's duel must have taken quite a while. Someone must have discovered that Peter was either dead or a traitor, because she heard vicious cursing mere minutes later as a person barged into the house.
"James!" Sirius's voice choked. "I'll kill him for this," he swore, and she heard footsteps as he made his way to their bedroom. "Lily…" he said, anger prevalent in his voice, though Morgana heard the grief threatening to overwhelm it.
"Padfoot," she said tearfully, hating to see him so torn up.
"Bambi!" he gasped, relief and surprise on his face as he hurried to the crib. "How are you still alive? Is Harry safe?"
"Yes," she said, and something loosened in his posture.
"Thank Merlin for that," he sighed, and for once, Morgana felt nothing at the mention of his name, merely focusing on her grief and the adrenaline flowing through her. "What happened, Bambi?"
"Mummy pr-protect," she explained. "She protected us." But he killed her. Tears poured down her face even faster. "Padfoot…"
"I know, Bambi," he said, scooping her up. "I know." Tears welled in his eyes, as well, grief winning out.
"You're safe now," he whispered, kissing her on the forehead, then lifting Harry into his other arm. "What's this scar?" he asked in alarm.
"H-he tried to hurt Harry…" she attempted to enunciate the words. "Mummy protect," she repeated. "Spell gave him the scar, and the man…" She gestured, trying to find a word that it would not be suspicious for her to know.
"Disappeared?" Sirius guessed. She nodded, burying her face in his chest. "I'm proud of you, Datura. You've been strong." He checked one of the dresser drawers, pulling out the bag Lily had packed with supplies months ago, just in case: diapers, bottled water, clothes, dried food, baby food, formula for Harry, a first aid kit, money, and some other essentials.
"Protect Harry," Morgana replied simply, and Sirius attempted something approaching a smile through his tears.
"I'm taking you and Harry someplace safe," he said, shouldering the bag and carrying them through the house, angling their faces away from their parents' bodies. Morgana snuck peeks anyway, needing to see her parents one last time, even in death. They had loved her and cared for her, even if not for as long as they would have liked. That was more than she had in her last life, and she had loved them fiercely in return. She decided then and there that she was no longer Morgan le Fay. Her parents had named her Datura Lily Potter, and through loving her, they had changed her. They may not be there for her anymore, but some part of them would live on through her and through Harry, and she would take that name in remembrance of them.
Datura buried her head in Sirius's chest and wept.