Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Merlin. All rights go to respective owners.

IMPORTANT A/N — I have edited the first three chapters! (Please note that I don't have a beta for this story. I am by myself in the editing process, but I think I've managed to clean it up rather nicely.) I eliminated "head-hopping" POV, as well as fixed overall grammar errors and transitions (at least as much as I could). If you are new to this story, this won't matter too much. But if you are returning, I highly recommend rereading the first three chapters. (Also, it's been a very, very long while … I am so, so sorry!)

Interlude 1: The Tides of the Universe

Morgana anxiously paced the length of the conference room. Her father silently sat nearby; her mother had taken her sister home a while ago. They had been informed there had been other magical families at the zoo, which was rather obvious, in her opinion. There would have had to be at least two others, since Merlin and Harry obviously weren't related. Morgana had wanted to immediately go and speak with them, but the goblins denied her requests. They all had to be debriefed separately. Since then, the other families had been let go and told to go about their business.

But her father was a senior Curse-Breaker for Gringotts. Due to the Arcadia Treaty, he had been asked to remain behind until Harry woke up. Morgana had adamantly elected to stay with him. The mysterious raven-haired boy — she had to know why he had been in her dream.

That apparently would have to wait. She was currently stuck in the conference room, and was starting to regret her decision to wait at Gringotts.

The room was far too quiet. She could hear the watch around her wrist tick, tick, ticking endlessly — counting the time passing, even though it felt like the whole world was standing still. Groaning, she slumped into a nearby chair. It felt like she had been waiting for something to happen for at least a year! In reality, she knew that they had only been in the conference room for an hour or two. After everything that had happened, though, her anxiety was quickly mounting, and the familiar sights and sounds of Gringotts did little to comfort her.

"Morgana," her father suddenly said, his voice calm and steady, "he is in good hands. I'm sure we'll hear something shortly."

She rolled her eyes in response, before standing back up and continuing to pace.

That was something else that was bothering her. This whole situation was both everything and nothing like the nightmare she experienced last week — the one that had ultimately led her to talk with Harry.

Ever since she had been very little, she had nightly terrifying nightmares. The dreams — the kind she usually had — were conflicting. On one hand, she dreamt of wards failing, unquenchable fire, and shadows that laughed and taunted her; a bird caught in an iron cage. On the other hand, she sometimes had dreams of dragons and castles, a life in ages long since past. There were knights armed to the nines with shining swords and gleaming daggers, protecting a king, who was both kind and cruel.

Both visions, for lack of a better word, felt so real.

She had, on multiple occasions, tried explaining them to her parents, but they never understood. How could she explain the life-threatening terror, the feeling of her heart stopping? Being unable to move, while watching — experiencing — the same atrocities being committed over, and over, and over again? She could never fully capture in her explanations the feeling of being forced to watch it happen, all while hearing a voice in her head whispering madly away.

"Pay attention! Pay attention! Pay attention!"

She tried; she really did. But between the potions and Muggle medication her parents made her take, she couldn't ever really remember them. It all ended up in petrifying fragments with the true meaning lost. After awhile, she just did her best to ignore them. She would wake up screaming and covered in sweat; her parents would comfort her. Nothing had ever come from her dreams. Her family was firmly believed that's all they were — simply dreams — and she had almost convinced herself of that fact.

But this one had been different.

The boy in her dream — Harry Potter, of all people — was real. The trip to the zoo happened. But in her dream, it had happened differently. There was no fight between the cousin and the rest of the group. There hadn't even been anyone else there besides the two bullies and Harry. The only exhibit that had its glass disappear was the one with the giant snake.

Harry hadn't almost … almost died. There were no goblins, no rescue. Just the sound of a door slamming, and endless days of darkness.

A man — a giant man she recognized from her father's description as Hagrid — had then found Harry in an island in the middle of the sea, and had then taken him to Diagon and King's Cross. But even in her dream, that had felt wrong. There was no other way of explaining it. There had just been a wrongness about it.

Then the dream had changed. Suddenly, she was standing next to Harry in the reptile house. This scenario felt less wrong. Like Fate was showing her a better way. So she had tried to follow it.

Clearly, it hadn't gone exactly as planned. But what else had she been supposed to do?

There was something else bothering her; something even more important than meeting Harry, or discovering he was a Parselmouth. The dream had come true — at least, to some extent it did. She had never had accidental magic growing up; toys had never levitated around her, things had never disappeared. Her parents, and everyone else, had believed she was a Squib. Nothing to be ashamed of, of course. Her mother was a Squib. That had been the theory anyway, until one day her Hogwarts letter arrived.

But this … this wasn't accidental magic. It was something else entirely. Her dream had come true, which meant that she was a Seer. As the old proverb stated, "One prophecy does not a Seer make." But just thinking those words — that she was an actual Seer — felt right in a way she could never begin to be able to describe. But that also meant there was a far more dangerous future ahead of her. True Seers were even more rare than being a Parselmouth, and they weren't exactly a sickle a dozen.

She had to prepare. She had to be ready.

Suddenly, she heard the door of the main lobby bursting open. Heavy footsteps echoed off the marble floors and counters. Ignoring her father's warnings, she cracked the door open and peeked out.

The giant man from her visions — Hagrid, she reminded herself — was arguing with one of the goblins at a desk. The debate lasted less than a minute. Hagrid gave the goblin a letter, which the teller read. Apparently, it was not good news for the goblin, who snarled in anger.

The entire exchange led to Hagrid being escorted to another annex chamber. Less than five minutes later, he was leading a bewildered Harry out of the bank and into the Alley.

So much for trying to change things, Morgana thought bitterly.

She would have to do better, and to do that she had to be better. She would have to learn how to control her magic.

And she had a nasty feeling that this was barely the tip of the iceberg.

A/N 2 – To the reviewer who mentioned that Morgana has green eyes: I know ;) There's a reason for her eyes being that deep blue now.