The Sugar Quill
Author: Swirly Head (Professors' Bookshelf)  Story: A Kiss From Morgana  Chapter: Default
The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author.

A/N This could be set in Harry’s fifth year or fourth year…doesn’t really matter, as it’s a separate event.

**

Summary: Have you ever wondered where the Dementors come from? This little tale attempts to answer that question…set in the days of the Founders Four.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Set in god knows when…well, when Salazar Slytherin was in his late twenties…my take on the Arthurian legends. And the story of the Dementors…I know that probably my timelines are completely mixed up, and Salazar & the other Founders would probably have been dead when Arthur was supposed to have reigned…but I explain all that in the story. Oh, and this is MY Arthurian mythology…She’s Morgana LeFaye, not Morgana le Fay, and, well…I’ve made it all up. :o)

***

Mirrors were a blessing. She surrounded herself with their perfect, silver edged beauty, loving each gilded frame. Here was solid silver, that she’d been offered by a baron. Here was wood, carved with serpents that winked mockingly. And she didn’t speak in riddles; the serpents winked again and again, tormenting her with their beautiful eyes. For Morgana LeFaye was a witch. Not some gibbering village infidel, not a con-woman that peddled her ware among the ignorant court knights…no, she was a witch. A witch who lived in a time when one of her kind had committed a great betrayal, the greatest.

Merlin had revealed himself to that son of Godric who occupied the English throne. Her mouth curled into a wicked smile, and she suppressed the urge to laugh. If all went to plan, Arthur would soon be eradicated from the history books. Less substantial than a legend, little more than a myth. No one would really know when he had ruled…no one would be able to remember. She was a crucial part of the plan. Changing her name from the famous LeFaye to the unheard of Malfay, Merlin had not yet discovered her in the listing of castle guests.

Tomorrow night, at the Feast of Samhain, she would infiltrate the court, and make them all love her. It was easy to make mere men fall in love. She would do it all, for him. Only for him.

Thoughts of this kind distracted her, and she sat in front of her favourite looking glass.

"Mirror hanging on my wall, who’s the fairest of them all?" she asked, smiling, already knowing the answer. This had been her morning ritual since she had come of age. Now possessing twenty years, she delighted that there had been no offers of marriage. As long as there were no other suitors, she knew that she belonged to him. The black surface of the mirror rippled, twisted to form a face.

"My lady Morgana I hear your call. You, sweet girl are the fairest of all."

Laughing, she pulled her wand from her hair, and tapped the mirror once. Unpinned, dark curls fell heavily down to the small of her back, and she carefully examined every inch of her face. Looking for blemishes, checking for lines, conscious always of the fact that her beauty was an undisputed weapon. She took pleasure in her own face, and traced her cheekbones gently with one smooth fingertip. Her reflection smirked back, and she drank in the clear blue eyes, which contrasted pleasingly with her nut brown hair and eyebrows. Still better were the rosy cheeks and full, dark lips. Her teeth were straight and normally white. Frowning at their slight creaminess, she pointed her wand

and muttered the required incantation.

That small imperfection corrected, she tapped the mirror once more, ran her fingers through her hair to loosen the curls, and began to dress. Expensive robes, made from imported cloth of gold were laid out ready on her bed. She had been awaiting this day for weeks, preparing for it even longer.

Admiring the way in which the fine material moulded to her slight frame and developing curves, she stained her lips a berry red, darkened her eyelashes. Smudging some charcoal on her eyelids, Morgana checked her appearance once more. Perfect.

With great effort she dragged herself away from the mirror, and threw on a heavy travelling cloak, in order to disguise her strange clothes. Wizarding robes would immediately mark her as different. Golden wizarding robes would mark her as someone who should know Merlin, and result in her untimely discovery. Shivering at the very thought of failing him, failing the one whom she changed her name for, Morgana left her room. A loud croak from the cage in the corner made her return.

Tutting at the large, black raven, she allowed him to perch on her shoulder as they exited the castle. "Honestly Lucien, you may have given us both away!" she scolded. Her pet merely nibbled at her earlobe, and she grinned. "I am glad you reminded me though, or I should have been lonely on the way to the Forest."

Carefully closing the heavy, wooden door, she checked for any nobles before making her way silently across the courtyard. The air was thick with mist, and she could smell slaughtered meat on the crisp October breeze. Squeals from various animals, and the hearty laugh of the village men sounded faint in her ears. Heart thudding loudly in her breast, she crept behind the shelter of an abandoned shack. The owner, an old man known to all as Dummel, had passed away a few months ago. It was safe, and had stayed unoccupied due to her own interference. Casting memory wards around the hut had caused confusion amongst the Muggles, and she had been able to complete her project without disturbance.

She could breathe again. Unlocking the door was a matter of seconds, and she inhaled deeply. The familiar and welcome scent of nightshade made her nostrils flare, and Lucien dug his claws into her shoulder before launching himself to his favoured perch above the largest cauldron.

It was empty. All of her cauldrons were empty now, she had completed the Potions portion of her task days ago. Last night had been the final incantations, and today she was to deliver the finished result. Hanging her cloak on the peg behind the door, she surveyed the place she had started to think of as her own. A tidily swept dirt floor, covered in fresh straw. To one side of the small, main room was a bench, on which sat three cauldrons of varying sizes and all her Potions supplies. To her left stood a solid table, covered with all manner of books and pieces of parchment. Smiling happily, she crossed the room and ducked through the opening into the even smaller bedroom. As soon as she’d taken over the shack, she’d transfigured the bed into a pile of kindling for the fire. This room was unbearably hot, and she prayed that sweat wouldn’t cause her hair to frizz.

The fire glowed with unnatural colour. Dark green, it licked at the box suspended over its flame with serpentine silkiness. Unafraid, Morgana reached her hand into its depths and retrieved her prize. Immediately, the fire died, and she allowed herself a small jig of excitement. It had worked. It had actually worked, and at last her efforts would be recognised. She had a precious gift, of her own devising to give to him.

He would love her.

Love. That word caused such a swell of blood in her heart, brought such a ready blush to her cheek, pulled down all her cold defences so quickly that she never dared speak of it.

She hardly dared even to think it when she was near him.

Did he feel the same? She was unsure, yet remembered how his eyes often lingered on her face, how only she could remove that sly smirk and replace it with a smile of genuine delight. How those elegant hands, so strong, had held her waist gently when they had danced together, so carefully she still wasn’t sure he had been holding her at all.

And that certain sparkle in his eyes when they spoke.

Another loud caw from Lucien brought her back to her senses, and she held her arm out automatically. He settled on her shoulder, and she pulled the wand from her pocket. "Accio cloak," she said, and the cloak draped itself around her slender shoulders.

"Disapperato."

******

Darkness is an inadequate word. There are too many different kinds of darkness to number, too many that can never be described using only one word. This was restless darkness. This was darkness that swelled with the beat of a hundred hearts, darkness that was warm with one hundred wasted breaths.

In the centre of it all, his angular features highlighted by the moon’s waxing gaze, stood Salazar Slytherin.

She felt a chill finger caress her spine at the sound of his name. His name, whispered by the hundreds of onlookers, the ripple of interest that swelled in the crowd. Wizards all, they obeyed four of the youngest. If she squinted, she could make out the large silhouette of Godric, with Helga sitting beside him, their hands clasped. And Rowena. She didn’t like Rowena, had never trusted her. Fair Ravenclaw with her clever words was too great a contender for Salazar’s heart. If she ever decided to love him, Morgana thought all hope would be lost.

Unless that which she hoped for with all her soul was true. Unless he loves you, chanted the small voice in her head.

Then he began to talk.

"Wizards of England, I welcome you to this meeting place. As you all know, the other three Founders and myself have completed the construction of Hogwarts."

At this there was an almighty cheer, and Morgana sensed, rather than saw, some witches or wizards stand up and embrace. He smiled, that charming, dry russet smile, and raised his hands for silence.

"Unfortunately, before we can go ahead with this most ambitious of projects, there are certain…obstacles." He paused, and then continued in a darker tone. "One of the greatest wizards of our time has fallen!"

There were murmurs of consent, and someone shouted, "Merlin!"

"Yes. Sadly, yes. Merlin, my own teacher, mentor to all of my friends, has revealed himself to the Muggles. He has broken the first rule of our unspoken code. Already repercussions have spread and everyone wants his magic. I fear many Muggle lives will be lost in vain, and all for power…all for the

sake of this king…" he sneered the word, "…this King Arthur!"

 

Another cheer, and Morgana saw Godric smile at his cousin’s skill as a speaker. Dear Salazar. He was so clever, and that cunning made her love him all the more. The way he spoke about Muggle lives lost in vain…as though he truly cared about the Muggles…it was brilliant.

"As you know, we have already implemented a plan to erase Arthur from Muggle minds. Merlin will be dealt with kindly. We will give him fair trial…if he admits to his own guilt, and that he made a mistake, what good will it do to shame him? We hope that he can return to teach at our school of witchcraft and wizardry."

She snorted. Fair trial? Salazar’s latest scheme was to remove the older wizards, leaving the Founders Four with absolute power. Eventually, leaving him with absolute power…how devious his mind was! She delighted in it. There were further sounds of general approval, and Morgana’s pulse quickened. Those silver eyes had flickered in her direction.

"The next matter for your approval. I would like to present my lady, jewel of our country, the recently renamed Morgana Malfay!"

This time the applause was meant for her, and she composed her emotions before walking elegantly into the clearing, head held high on her swan-like neck. Lucien puffed out his breast beside her, and she tried not to appear too amused.

And then she was lost in him.

Salazar stood alone, and saw only her. She knew it, she somehow knew that to him everyone else had disappeared, and her feelings soared. That smile, the one she loved, settled on his lips. Teasing. In his eyes that reminded her of the clearest mountain lake, she saw her own reflection. Another mirror.

The reason for her mirrors was Salazar Slytherin’s eyes. At that, a bubble of laughter escaped her lips and he raised an eyebrow quizzically. She shook her head slightly and held out her hand, expecting him to twirl her round for the court’s approval. Instead he pressed his lips to her skin, and she inhaled sharply. He gazed up at her from underneath lowered lids, and grinned disarmingly. She curtseyed to him, cloak long discarded, and noted the way he drank in the golden glory of her robes.

Turning to face her audience, she tapped her throat with her wand, and tried to relax.

"Thank you, Sa…Lord Slytherin, for your kind introduction. I have been working on a project to provide…to provide protection."

She ignored the curious mutterings and laid the plain wooden box on the floor in front of her. Straightening up, she allowed herself another look at Salazar, and tried desperately to remember the speech they had rehearsed.

"Contained inside this box is a creature that I have made to serve our kind, and to guard us from those ills we wish to avoid. I present it to you all."

She hadn’t even seen it herself yet. Hoping against hope that this had actually worked, Morgana pointed her wand at the wooden box, and the crowd fell silent. She felt her neck prickle as Salazar laid a hand on her shoulder, presumably to stiffen her resolve. If only he knew how his touch melted

her so… Biting down on her lip, she summoned all of her magic and completed the spell.

"Dementia!"

Silence. For a dreadful moment, Morgana thought her worst fears had been realised and nothing would happen. Then the lid of the box snapped back, and the silence took on a sharpened quality. Air that had been pleasantly warm fell in temperature, and she shuddered violently.

It was as though all the substance that made the clouds had inverted upon itself, and Morgana felt the pressure on her body. The others felt it too, and she exchanged a slightly panicked look with Salazar. Was this supposed to be happening?

Several things happened at once. With a ear-splitting thunder crack, the box leapt into the air and burst apart in a blue fireball. Salazar yelled her name in alarm and pushed her to the ground, shielding her against the explosion. Sound disappeared from the world, and all was confusion outlined in blue. Wizards trying to scream, pushing against each other, ducking for cover. All that

filled Morgana’s mind was his heartbeat against hers, the way in which he’d jumped to keep her safe…thoughts racing, she barely noticed when the colours returned.

Slowly, they both sat up, Salazar helping her to stand. Everybody returned to their places, exclaiming.

Then there was a new silence. They were all staring at the thing which stood in place of the box. Shaking, unsure, Morgana tightened her grip on Salazar’s arm. Although she would never like to admit it, she was afraid. Swallowing her fear, Morgana stepped forward.

"What is it?" Rowena asked in a disbelieving murmur. The other three were all standing now, and Morgana waited for a moment, before realising that the question was directed at her.

"I…I call it…a Dementor."

"A good name for a demon…" whispered Godric.

Warming to the theme, aware that all eyes were upon her, that she had power, Morgana’s voice acquired a more confident tone. "I call it a Dementor, and it is my own creature. It obeys its master, or mistress, and it will bring justice."

"How?" asked a member of the crowd, incredulously.

Salazar snapped his fingers loudly, and Morgana saw someone being pushed forward from the sidelines. He rested his hand on her shoulder once more. "Here is how. This Muggle is a murderer, deserving of punishment. Show them how your Dementor works, Morgana."

"Gladly, my lord."

She walked closer to the creature, and immediately wanted to cry out in fear. For in the back of her mind she could hear voices, voices telling her that this was wrong, that the Dementors weren’t to be used for good but as part of a greater plan, that she and Slytherin would be found out, that they

would be killed, that they were traitors…

"It works…" she paused, her voice cracking slightly. Then her mind settled, and she grabbed the Muggle roughly. He seemed to be shaking uncontrollably, and she showed his face to the crowd, a strange smile on her face. "…with a kiss." Leaning down, she kissed him tenderly on the cheek, her eyes shining. As the others gasped at this show of familiarity, Morgana whispered into his ear. "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…but I must do this. For Salazar, I must…"

Standing proudly once more, she threw the Muggle at her Dementor’s feet, and pointed her wand coldly. Making her voice like ice. "Dementor! Hear my words, and mine alone! I demand you to deliver the Kiss to this mortal. Kiss him."

She forced herself to watch as fingers of death stroked the Muggle’s face. As with sudden, unnatural speed the man was brought sharply towards the hood of this beastly, unearthly thing. She heard the crack of unwilling bones, and saw the man’s body jerk without any semblance of control for what seemed like an hour before the Dementor sucked him in.

She saw the body drop like so much useless flesh to the floor.

"I present to you, a kiss. A kiss from Morgana," she finished dully, ironically.

And slowly, they began to clap.

Fools.

******

The fire crackled noisily, food was consumed in great quantities and all exclaimed at the splendour of the Great Hall in Hogwarts. Morgana herself was particularly impressed with the night sky that could be seen on the enchanted ceiling. Seated next to Salazar, they had spent the best part of the last hour picking out constellations and re-naming them. Then, he had asked this unexpected question.

"Tell me, what did you think of my speech?"

"I thought it was very good. Very clever."

"Clever?" he asked her, all wide eyes and innocence. "It was true!"

"As true as you make it," she said sourly, avoiding his look.

"Sweetest Morgana…you doubt me. You doubt that what we plan is for the best," he whispered knowingly.

"No…no, I just…"

"You just what?"

"I just don’t know if this is right, anymore," she finished in a weakened voice. "After today…that thing, I made that thing…it must have been Darkness, Salazar. It cannot have been good," she said, with a harsh snake’s hiss, desperate for him to understand.

He caught her chin with his hand, and forced her to look at him. The sounds of merry makers fell away, and she felt hypnotised. "I need you to trust me."

Angry at falling under his spell, again, she pulled back. "Why, Salazar? Why must I trust you? Why do you need me at all? You have the other three…why do you want…" here she lowered her voice to hiss at him. "…why do you want the power to yourself?"

He sighed, and scratched his head. "I am ambitious. I am ambitious, but you must believe me, Morgana. You must believe me when I tell you that I only want to use my powers for good, for what I trust in. I don’t think the others use it wisely…you know I think that. I used to think you thought it too…"

"I do. You know I do. I just don’t understand why you need me. Why you…why you trust me with all of this."

He found her hand, and gripped it tightly, earnestly. She felt her heart flutter, and he fixed her in his gaze. Mirror, mirror tell me who you love…

"Morgana. You aren’t stupid…in fact you are the cleverest girl I know." He saw her eyes shift in Rowena’s direction and he injected a scornful tone into his voice. "Oh, Rowena. Books, and words…you are clever with your soul. You are cunning, and witty, and you know me. Surely you know why I need you so?"

She shook her head dumbly.

"Because I’m in love with you, idiot girl. I love you," he repeated softly. And with that, with their foreheads touching, she brought her lips to his and paused. "I love you too."

They kissed. He began softly at first, then pressed harder, more hungrily. She responded, and it was the sweetest feeling of joy in her breast. The feeling filled her entire body, until her soul was dancing with the wonder and rightness of it all. Drawing apart, they felt the eyes of all upon them, and

Salazar stood, triumphant, holding her close at his side.

"Ah, let you all know I am in heaven! For a kiss from Morgana is worth more than all the other passions in this world or the next. A kiss from my own dear Morgana, and I truly have power over all."

And they embraced, and they clapped, and outside the door stood a figure cloaked all in black, longing for one thing.

A kiss from Morgana.

//
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