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.
