The Time Curse (Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon Fanfic)

Prologue

A pot of phoenix ash knocked onto the floor in protest of the harsh movements as the young witch flitting about the potions lab of Slytherin Manor. Plates still filled with food sat forgotten, stacked on the desk against the wall. The house elves insisted on bringing their mistress three meals a day even if she forgot to eat them in her flurry of maddened innovation. They had served the Slytherin house for centuries and were well accustomed to how their masters got when focused on a project. 

The eighteen-year-old, witch shook off her exhaustion as she stirred the potion counter-clockwise until it turned black, just as she had predicted. 

Morgana Slytherin would never admit to being a good person. She wore her pureblood title like a suit of armor, basking in the dark arts like a shield. She insulted people in parseltongue, just to scare them. She was ambitious and cunning, her silver tongue had gotten her out of many tough situations. She was the epitome of a dark lady to those who didn't know her. But in truth, Morgana cared for her people. She felt their pain and grief as if it were her own. 

The Second Wizarding War had not been kind to those with dark cores and caring hearts.

She had been betrayed, she had seen the distrust in people's eyes as they looked at her. After all, she was distantly related to the dark lord himself. She recalled the horrors of her second year, how a basilisk was released into Hogwarts, and a message in blood named the Heir as the culprit. All kind eyes turned wicked against the twelve-year-old girl, simply because of her last name. Even after Ginny Weasley admitted to the whole thing, no one trusted her again, not completely anyway. 

She had watched friends die. She had watched classmates grieve their fallen comrades. The second Wizarding War had brought havoc to the magical community, extending past the borders of Brittain. 

 Morgana had lost her parents during the first wizarding war. Now her found family was either dead, escaping to the muggle world, or too traumatized to function properly. She was completely alone once more. 

But she didn't have to be. 

For months after the final battle, Morgana had been researching and experimenting with Time magic. Not the use of a time turner, but the ability to walk through time and change events. 

She had combined a few rituals, using her brilliant mind to manufacture something entirely new. If she could stop the war from ever happening if she could best Voldemort before he ever rose to power if she could just get it to work... She could save them all. She could end her people's suffering. She could stop the madness before it starts. 

Harry Potter could still have his parents. Draco Malfoy could live happily. The Black family could survive. 

No one would ever know what she had done. No one would ever know the tragedy she saved them from, but that was okay. 

Because Morgana would never admit that she was a good person, but she really was. 

There was nothing keeping her here. She was okay with fading into nothing as long as she fixed her broken world. She had magic, she had resources, she could do it. 

The potion finally turned a glittering black, just as it was supposed to. She filled a vial with the liquid, careful to not spill any. The potion was to ensure that even if the timeline changed, her memories and existence would stay intact. 

She placed the vial to the side and began drawing out the necessary runes to act as the coordinance for exactly where and when she wanted to go. She was very selective about the chalk used as well as the placement of where she drew the runes. 

The moment the last line was drawn, she prepared herself. Her Auror robes were fastened, her black dragon leather gloves were in place, her wand was in its holster on her thigh carefully hidden beneath the flaps of her uniform. She placed the delicately written farewell letter on her desk so that someone would find it if they ever came to look for her. 

She took a moment to ready herself. The words she had heard so many times before echoed through her head like the steady beat of a drum, "for the greater good."

It was a risky spell, one that would be difficult to replicate if anything went wrong. Time magic was like trying to bottle lightning and turn it into water. It was chaotic and unreliable and most importantly, you could not go forward in time since it was always changing, only back where events were set in stone. 

It was risky and stupid, but honestly, she had nothing left to lose. 

For the greater good... Even dead that old man Dumbledore was still playing with her head. Maybe this is what she had to do, the penance she had to pay for all the pain her ancestors had caused. 

Morgana didn't think she was good, but she hoped she wasn't evil either. She had spent her entire life trying to overcome the dark stereotypes that came with her name. She wanted so desperately to escape from the shackles of her family's past. 

Doing this, going back and fighting a battle that had not yet started... maybe a small part of her hoped to earn that freedom, to earn that separation from her dark history. Dumbledore had always encouraged her to strive to be good. He implied that she had to earn the trust of the light every time she was excluded or cast aside. As a little girl, she believed him, as an adult she still kind of does. 

She could do this. 

She could do this for the greater good...

In one swift motion, she drank the black potion, her face scrunched in disgust at the bitter taste. She stepped foot into the Rune circle preparing for the spell. "SSSSHIIIYYYAAHASSSSS... SHHACHIISAHASSSSS... SHIYYAHATHSIHETHHHHH." She began to hiss, the parsel-magic taking shape around her. The runes from the floor began to glow, floating into the air like flattering leaves falling from a tree. 

The runes attached themselves to her skin, sinking in to create black tattoos on her pale skin. With the final guttural hiss, she was dragged into the void. 

It was loud and chaotic, she felt as if she was being pulled in a thousand directions before being smooshed back together. She felt the fires heat and the roar of a dragon echoed through her bones and then all she saw was black.