The Untold Tragedy Of Morana Black

Prologue

'Thoughts.'                 Parseltongue                Flashbacks/Dreams

October 3rd, 1995

Hogwarts stood tall and proud in the rolling hills of Scotland, unphased by the battering winds of Autumn and the earth-trembling growls of thunder echoing from the sky. Hogwarts was a thing of beauty and comfort, even with its rain-darkened stones and cloak of vines.

Almost invisible amongst the heavy rain, Morana Black walked outside toward towering black gates, wrapping her fur-lined black cloak tighter around her shoulders. She shivered as the cold winds sliced through her drenched clothes, her boots splashing in sloshy mud. 

It took several minutes for Morana to travel across the grounds of Hogwarts. She reached the gates where four familiar people stood, hidden underneath large black umbrellas. Three women and one man waited for her, dressed in expensive clothes, and draped in flowing black cloaks. 

The white-haired woman chuckled when Morana's foot slipped in some mud, though she lowered her head and cleared her throat, looking up a moment later with an amused smile. "Morana, darling," she said in a smooth, clear voice, "it's wonderful to see you again."

"Hello, Aunt Life," Morana grumbled, stomping the mud off her boots. "I've missed you all," she said a moment later, brushing past her embarrassment. Her eyes brightened underneath the hood of her cloak as she stared at them, lips pulled into a wide smile. 

"We've missed you, too," said a woman with solemn golden eyes. "I'm afraid we haven't come for a cup of tea. We bring news - terrible news."

Morana's heart dropped as the words left Aunt Hecate's mouth, her mind freezing on one possibility. Memories played behind her glazed eyes, sending a slither of ice-cold dread down her spine. The soft clearing of Aunt Nature's throat snapped Morana out of her terrifying memories.

"It's happening, isn't it?" Morana whispered, her voice cracking with fear. "After everything I've done? But I've been doing everything right! I-I've done everything that needed-"

"Morana," said the man in a soothing voice, reaching a pale hand through the closed gates, taking her hand with a gentle squeeze. "This is not your fault, my daughter. We all knew the possibility of success was slim. You've done fabulously these last five years."

Morana blinked back her tears angrily. "But it wasn't enough," she replied harshly, gripping her father's hand with a surprising strength her deceptively frail body didn't appear to possess. "Why? Why wasn't it enough?"

"We both know how deep he has his poisonous claws buried in society," Aunt Nature reminded in a patient tone, her eyes full of sympathy for her upset niece - they all knew what this meant to Morana - she had dedicated her life to this mission. "The chances of avoiding The Great War have decreased rapidly in the last few months. I'm afraid there's not much more you can do to prevent it, sweetheart. We're so sorry-"

"There must be something I can do," Morana cried, turning to Aunt Hecate with pleading eyes full of desperation. 

Morana had seen the future and had survived through the darkest times. She couldn't go through that again. She needed to protect her world - she needed to save it. She had failed the first time to save the world, but she refused to lose this time - she couldn't.