I REWROTE THIS CHAPTER AND THE FIRST ONE SO I ADVISE YOU TO READ THEM BOTH AGAIN!

Hello everyone, this is the second chapter of the story. Hope you like it, tell me what you think!

The letter is taken from 'HP and the Philosopher's Stone' while the first spell is taken from Merlin 2x12 'The Fire of Idirsholas'.

Two things, before I leave you to the chapter, the first: the mandrake in this story doesn't look like an ungly baby, it doesn't have a face or a mouth that can bite. It's simply a plant but it cries and screams, though only the people with magic can hear it (the mandrake is like the plant in Merlin and not in HP). Muggles can grow mandrake as a normal plant, but only the magical people can use it for its magical properties. The second is that, in this story Morgana is the one who invented the Animagus Potion (though she didn't call it that). She's the first recorded case of a magical being turning into an animal. (In HP canon, the first recorded Animagus is a greek wizard, Falco Aesalon, but not in this story).

- I made a video about Morgana and Tom, by the way. It's not a trailer or anything but I created the video with this story in mind. Hope you like it, here's the link(without the hyphens): h-t-t-p-s-:-/-/-www-.-youtube-.-com-/-watch?v=Wy6wsRPcnDE.

Chapter 2

THE LETTER

"Magic has no place in Camelot. It never will. Not until I take the throne."

Morgana - Merlin 4x06

Today was Dudley's tenth birthday. Morgana knew that the Dursleys would be gone all day to the zoo and, after much persuasion – threats – she had convinced them to leave her at home alone. She had something very important to do today.

Incredible, how much had changed in two years. The next day after the realization that, in another life, she had been Morgana Pendragon and that she had magic, she went to the local library to find as many books as she could pertaining to the Arthurian legends, wanting to learn as much as possible about how people saw her in that time.

The stories differed a lot from her dreams but there were some common elements. She was always painted as the villain, intent on conquering the throne of Camelot and kill her half-brother Arthur. Not that it mattered, of course. She didn't care that she was seen as evil. Good or evil, it was all a matter of perspectives.

In some stories she had been involved with Arthur or Merlin – or both of them – before they had become enemies, and those stories were not entirely wrong since she had loved them both at one point or another. None of those stories explained why she had wanted the throne of Camelot. Why she wanted Arthur dead. None of them described how magical people like her had been hunted down and killed, just for being born with their gifts. None of them seemed to realize that all she had done had been to save her kind. She had been the last High Priestess. Like her sister Morgause before her, she had had a duty towards her kind, to save them and protect them, and Merlin – that traitor to his own kind – had sided with Arthur, the son of the man who had killed thousands of magical people and that, in the end, had become exactly like Uther.

As much as Morgana hated Arthur for turning up exactly like their father, and for killing Mordred, it was nothing compared to the hatred she felt towards Emrys. He had betrayed her, much more deeply than Arthur ever did. Arthur was weak, incapable of going against his father, but Merlin had been her friend. When Morgana's dreams had caused her magic, too long repressed, to lash out, she had just wanted someone to help her. She was terrified, afraid Uther would find out she had magic and that she would be burnt at the stake like so many others. Merlin had magic, but she had no idea. Merlin could have helped her, but he didn't. And then he had tried to poison her, to stop Morgause's plan to conquer Camelot. She had thought he was her friend but he had betrayed her from the very beginning. And then, he had kept being a thorn in her side, always walking in her shadow to thwart all her plans. Until he had finally killed her.

She felt her magic bubbling under the surface of her skin, restless and angry, wanting to lash out at her killer. But Emrys was dead, just like Arthur and Guinevere. They had been dead for more than one thousand years, but she was alive. And she was slowly but surely regaining all her powers.

In fact, she was convinced that she would grow to be even more powerful that she had been in the past. In her old life, she had repressed her magic so much, all because of Uther, that it had become somewhat stunted. Sure, she had still been much more powerful than anyone else except for Merlin, more powerful than Morgause or Nimueh, the last two high priestesses before her – both of them had been taught to control and use magic from infancy –, by a very large amount, or of Mordred, who had controlled magic consciously since he was a child, strong enough that he didn't need to utter spells to control his magic, but that was just because her magic was so great, so immense, that it couldn't be suppressed completely.

But now, it was different. She was barely ten and she could already execute most spells that she had learnt when she had been over twenty years old, when her magic had reached complete maturity. How much more could she do this time around? How much her magic could still grow? It was a tempting concept, the belief that, in this time, she could become as powerful or even more powerful than Emrys.

But better not to linger on that hope too much. For now, all she could do was to keep learning, keep practicing, testing and overcoming her limits more and more.

In the past two years she had tried to relearn as many spells as she could, having all of her memories as Morgana Pendragon. She kept a journal of all the spells and potions she could remember, a lot of those were the ones Morgause had taught her while some she had invented herself.

And there were so many, some more difficult than others but all worth learning. There were glamour spells to change looks, to take the appearance of someone else. There were spells that transformed things into others. Spells that made inanimate objects animate. There were spells that could conjure the elements. Teleportation spells. Healing spells. Stunning spells. Everything you could think of, there was a spell for it.

The more she practiced magic and the easier it became to mold it to her will. While before she needed to concentrate deeply on her emotions – enough to be overwhelmed by deep, passionate, hot ire –, now she could control that black dot inside her and make it grow with barely a thought – cold fury (almost dispassionate, calculated), disgust, rancor, resentment and hatred, instead of impulsive anger, were enough to bring the magic to the surface.

Sometimes it grew so much that the tendrils reached all parts of her, as if her veins were filled with magic instead of blood, flowing through every part of her, enveloping her entire being, begging to be let out and attack those that would try to harm her, her enemies, to hurt them back, to torture and kill. It seemed like this black magic inside her had a mind of her own; it was extremely destructive and bloodthirsty, but it was incredibly strong as well. Morgan, every time she used it, felt like there was no limit to what she could do. If there was one, she hadn't found it yet.

However, she had soon realized that that black magic, as she called it, was different from the magic she had used to, for example, turn her teacher's hair blue when she was five, disappearing from one place and reappear on the roof of the school when she was six while she was running from her cousin, and when she had used it to regrow her hair when Petunia had cut it all off when she was four. It was almost like the two types of magic came from different places. This last one didn't need emotions to make it work. In fact, Morgana had started to learn to make it work consciously only after meditating deeply. You needed complete concentration and an empty mind to control it and, since she had gotten used to her magic responding to her emotions, having to feel nothing to make it work instead, she had taken a while to succeed. Though, she had succeeded, of course.

This new magic, which came from the dark red golf ball of light inside her, was somewhat limited. She couldn't do much with it, and she would get tired pretty easily while using it. Still, it was worth exercising with it nonetheless. For now, she could only move a few objects with her mind, summon small spheres of light, and open locks. However, the more she practiced with it and the more it grew in size. In the last year it had grew to become as big as a tennis ball, and the more it grew and the more she could do with it without getting too tired. Still, Morgan still preferred far more her black magic, which felt much more potent and wilder.

Spells weren't the only thing she practiced. She had written down all the potion recipes she remembered, and they were a lot. Unfortunately, she couldn't find all the ingredients she needed, since she couldn't leave Little Whinging at the moment, but she was making due with what she had anyway. She had even started to plant specific flowers and herbs that were used as potion ingredients and had started to grow them in Petunia's garden. Her aunt had, of course, tried to protest at first but Morgan had once again taught her a lesson. How dare a useless, pathetic non-magical being like Petunia, try to tell her what to do? Petunia was nothing, less than dirt under Morgan's feet. Morgan had needed to once again remind her of her place.

Most plants were rather common, and some other animal ingredients could be found easily enough as well like bat wings, bat spleens, beetle eyes. Others like unicorn horn or fairy wings were impossible to find. Still, sometimes she could use other ingredients in substitution that would work just as well with a few rearrangements in doses. Long hours of experiments, trial and errors were required, but she had time.

Thanks to her newfound powers, life with the Dursleys had changed drastically. Oh, the Dursleys still hated her, of course, but they were also terrified of the things she could do to them. That meant no more chores, no more starving, no more beatings. They simply pretended that she didn't exist and that was perfectly fine for her.

The hours spent at school, which were extremely tedious for her since she was years above what the teachers taught her, she spent writing in her journal modifying the recipes of potions to create new ones with the ingredients she had at her disposal. Potion-making was another talent of hers, just as healing magic and human transmutation.

One of her favourite spells was an ageing spell of her own invention – a variant of a spell Morgause had taught her –, a very complex transmutation spell that altered her appearance and turned her into an old woman, the same one she had used to pretend to be princess Mithian's maid. She was already able to perform it but she couldn't hold it for long period of times like she used to in the past, not yet at least. It was extremely painful though and she still hadn't found a solution for that. She was also working on modifying it somewhat, so that she could control the number of years she wanted to add to her age – sure, looking like an old woman was a useful disguise but it would be even better if she could look like the adult version of herself as she looked in her dreams.

Her talents in potion creation and brewing, and her deep understanding of human transmutation, had allowed her, in her old life, to invent the process – which consisted of a potion and a spell – , which was extremely complex and time-consuming, to turn into an animal at will. In her old life she had acquired the ability to turn into a crow at will, though only after escaping from Sarrum of Amata. It was an ability that she had oftentimes used to spy on her enemies but she still hadn't liked how vulnerable her form had made her feel, so she didn't use it very often. Still, she was determined to relearn how to transform into her animal form once again.

One of the plants she had started to grow in Petunia's garden was the mandrake. A few months ago, the mandrake had grown to full maturity, and she had spent the last month with a mandrake leaf inside her mouth (she had stuck it with a spell to the roof of her mouth). Now it was finally time to brew the potion that would allow her to turn into her animal form.

Fortunately, the ingredients for the potion were all easily found. The leaf needed to be put inside a crystal phial and left to be struck by direct moonlight. She had already collected a teaspoon of morning dew, which she had taken from a place untouched by sunlight or humans for more than a week. The chrysalis of a death's-head hawkmoth as well, she had found in a corner of the garden a few months ago. She had kept it under a stasis spell that had preserved all its qualities and that would stop the chrysalis from hatching. The last ingredient and the one that had been easier to obtain, was a strand of her hair.

After all the ingredients had been added, the potion needed to be put in a dark, undisturbed place until the next thunderstorm. If done correctly, the potion would turn a blood-red at the instant lightning first strikes during the next storm. If the weather forecast was right, the next thunderstorm would happen in only three days. More than enough time to prepare the potion and let it rest.

In the next few days, once at sunrise and once at sundown, she kept repeating the spell: 'Gewixle sáwolberend innan deor' and she kept on practicing her magic while waiting impatiently for the right time to drink the potion.

When she finally drank the potion, after repeating the spell one more time, she found with great surprise that she had two animal forms and not only one. One was, of course, her crow form, the other was what she recognized as a phoenix, though this one was completely black. Very fitting form if there ever was one. Morgan smirked in satisfaction and then transformed in her crow form first. The first transformation was always the most painful one but no matter, it would soon pass. She flew around her room a few times, just to familiarize herself with the feeling of being a crow, once again, and then she returned to her human form. She took a few deep breaths, waiting for the pain to pass, and then she transformed once again, this time concentrating on the details of a phoenix. Soon, she felt her body change again, much more painfully than when she had turned into a crow. She screamed, afraid if she didn't keep going, she was going to be stuck half in animal form. She fought through the pain and finally, finally, after long moments, the pain disappeared and her body shifted once again. She was much bigger than her crow form and even flying felt somewhat…heavier. She felt strong in this form, powerful. Her vision was perfect, she could see in even more details that she could as a human. Everything was brighter, more intense. Even her hearing was more acute. It felt amazing.

Unfortunately, she couldn't fly out the window like she wanted to because it was still day outside and her phoenix form wasn't exactly inconspicuous. She would have to wait until tonight.

She returned to her human form and smirked in satisfaction. Yes, everything was going according to plan. It would still take time to return to be as powerful as she was in her old life but she was getting there very fast. In a few years' time she would be more powerful that she had ever been. And then, she would try to find others like her.

She wondered if the dreams she had been having lately, of an ancient castle – not Camelot, or any other castle she knew –, had something to do with it. In her dreams she would find herself sitting in a small boat with other people – other children – dressed in black robes though she could never distinguish their faces, that was floating together with many others on a great lake. It was night and the only lights she could see were those that illuminated a beautiful castle. Then the scene would change and she would find herself in a wide hall, there was a hat that could talk – it was singing something in her dream but she couldn't hear the words – and many other people with long, dark robes. There were five tables in the room, long and one next to each other except for the smallest one, which was above the others, on a platform, just behind the stool with the talking hat. She remembered the ceiling, open into the night outside, or maybe just charmed to look like that. And floating candles, illuminating the place and banners hanging from the ceiling of different colours and depicting different coat-of-arms. Everything was beautiful and magical and it filled her with a sense of peace and wonderment.

She knew that they weren't simple dreams. She knew that they were those kinds of dreams, the dreams she sometimes had of the future. She had been a seer in her old life and she was one in this time as well, it seemed. What was odd was that usually her dreams were filled with devastation and death, or things she didn't want to happen but that would usually happen anyway, no matter what she would try to do and stop it, like the many times she had dreamed of Guinevere becoming Queen of Camelot, or that terrifying dream of Emrys walking in the middle of a corpses-filled battlefield. This dream was pleasant, which was strange but welcomed nonetheless. If she could only figure out what it meant though.

Another year passed and soon it was three days before her eleventh birthday. Her powers had increased even more in a year's time and she could execute about 70% of the spells she could do in her old life. She had once again the dream, the one about the castle, but this time she also dreamt about a letter addressed to her in yellow parchment and green ink and closed in purple wax with a seal bearing a coat of arms: a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake surrounding the letter 'H' – those same coat of arms which were depicted in the banners of the hall of the castle she kept dreaming. She didn't know what to make of it but she knew that something was going to happen that day.

She went down the stairs and to the kitchen and completely ignored her aunt Petunia who was sitting at the table, sipping her tea. Both Dudley and Vernon had already left, the first had gone somewhere with his friends – probably to torment some poor kid – and the second had left for work. She started to prepare breakfast for herself before sitting down at the table to eat.

It was in that moment that she heard the distinct click of the mail slot and a flop of letters falling on the doormat. She didn't know why but she felt compelled to check the post today so she did.

What she found was completely unexpected. It was a letter, a letter that looked exactly like the one in her dream. She lost no time in opening it and what she found written inside, turned her world upside down and yet, somehow, set it to rights at the same time.

The letter read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

A school for magic. Morgan had been accepted into a school for magic. The fact that such a place existed in the first place filled her with joy since she had seen first-hand how magical people had been persecuted in the past. Maybe the world had changed in one thousand years. Maybe magical people were finally free to use magic without fear of being killed for it.

But no, it wasn't possible. The non-magicals probably didn't even know that magic existed, let alone that there was a school for magic. The magical people were still in hiding, it was obvious.

Morgan checked the second page with the list of Hogwarts supplies and wondered first where she could find such items and second, what the purpose of a wand was.

A second later she realized that Petunia had somehow known all along that she was a witch because, though fearful of her abilities, she hadn't been surprised by the fact that she had those abilities in the first place. That meant that her mother at least had been magical too. After all she knew that magical abilities were hereditary, though there some rare cases of people born with magic whose parents were non-magical. In her old life her mother had been magical and both her and her sister had inherited their magical abilities from her.

Morgan decided that the best thing to do was ask her aunt what she knew.

She returned to the kitchen and showed her the letter. Her aunt, like she was expecting paled and said nothing. Morgan, tired of her silence, said, "care to explain? We both know that you knew I was a witch. That's why you and your family treated me like dirt since the first moment I ended up on your doorstep. So, tell me, was my mother a witch too? Is that why you knew that I would be one too?"

Petunia grimaced before answering, "yes, you are a freak just like your mother and father were. My family was a perfectly normal one until Lily received that damn letter. Our parents were so proud but I recognized her for what she was. Abnormal."

"Careful, dear Aunt. Don't forget who you're speaking with or I'd be more than happy to remind you." Morgana said with a chilling smile on her face. She noticed, with satisfaction, Petunia shivering in fear. With a false sweet tone, Morgan asked, "tell me, then. How did my parents die? Because I can't believe that magical people like them died in a stupid car crash."

"They didn't. They were killed," Petunia admitted reluctantly.

"Killed? By whom? And why?" Morgan asked surprised. She didn't particularly care about them since she had never known them but she wanted to know why someone had targeted her parents specifically.

"I don't know why. Only that the person who killed them was some very powerful dark wizard named Voldemort. I think there was some kind of war in your world and they were enemies."

"Ah, so they were causalities of war." That made sense to her. She had been in a war too and casualties were inevitable. "However, you don't know what this war was about…"

"No." Petunia said coldly.

"Okay, I'll find out somehow. So, back to the letter, tell me, where do I find these supplies listed here?"

"There's a place called Diagon Alley, in London. The entrance is through a pub called the Leaky Cauldron."

Morgan smiled. "For someone who doesn't care about my world, you certainly know a lot about it, do you?"

Petunia didn't answer and Morgan didn't expect her to. "Good. Can you show me how to reach this Diagon Alley?" Petunia nodded.

"Okay. Another thing, what is the wand for? I don't understand…"

"You need a wand to cast spells. Or, at least, my sister needed it. She was a freak but not even her could do the things you can do."

"Nobody can do the things I can because nobody is as powerful as I am. Though, wait, does this mean that most people can't cast spells without a wand?" Morgan smirked in satisfaction. "That's interesting."

She found this discovery weird since in her old life magical people hadn't needed a wand to cast spells but maybe things had changed in more than one thousand years. Morgan decided to keep her abilities hidden for the moment. First, she needed to learn as much as possible about this new world she was about to enter or she would be at a disadvantage and if there was one thing she hated, was being weak, or at least seen as such. If casting spells without a wand was seeing as extraordinary, she would keep these abilities hidden until she knew how best to use them to her advantage.

Once Petunia explained how to reach Diagon Alley and Morgan had forced her to give her enough money to buy what she needed, she left the house and reached a blind alley a few meters away. She checked that nobody was passing by before concentrating on where she wanted to go. Though she had never seen the Leaky Cauldron, she had once gone with her aunt to London and they had walked through Charing Cross Road, the street where the Leaky Cauldron was located. She had decided that that was the perfect opportunity to use the teleportation spell she had learned just the other day. It was the spell that Morgause had taught her in her last life and that her sister had used to take her away from Camelot when Merlin had poisoned her.

"Bedyrne ús! Astýre ús þanonweard!" She enunciated carefully. A few seconds later the small tornado she had created swept her away and made her appear in the alley she had visualized in her mind.

Once in Charing Cross Road she started to walk, trying to find the pub that, according to Petunia, was hidden from non-magical eyes. After a good ten minutes of walking she finally saw the old, woody sign that read 'Leaky Cauldron' and smiled.

Inside the pub a few odd-dressed people were sitting at various tables having breakfast. Morgan looked at herself and decided that – to not attract attention – she needed to change her clothes. All the people in the pub in fact were dressed in long robes covered by cloaks. She searched for the toilets and spotted them just a few feet away in the corner. She walked quickly without being noticed and checked that nobody else was inside before saying in a whisper "Gewriil orel hééwen," while concentrating on what some witches in the pub were wearing.

Her jeans and t-shirt immediately changed into an emerald green robe with a narrow waist and flowing at the hips, that reached her feet, and that was covered by a dark green cloak closed with silver claps. She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. She looked like a proper witch now, similar to the Morgana that she had been once upon a time. The person that she wanted to be again.

She left the bathroom and went straight for the bartender behind the counter. Petunia had told her that to reach Diagon Alley someone with a wand needed to open the passage in the brick wall located at the back of the pub. And to do that, she needed help.

Once she explained the situation to the bartender, whose name was Tom, he was more than happy to help her. Morgan observed intently when Tom brandished his wand and touched with the tip of it the wall bricks in a particular order. A second later the archway to Diagon Alley was in front of her. Morgan thanked Tom and then started to walk, looking around herself in awe. She had never seen a more magical place. Everything around her was simply brimming with magical energy. Everything was bright and colourful and for the first time in her life, Morgan felt like she had found a place to belong.