III: The Letter

Chapter III: The Letter

'Do you know what time it is, you silly bird?' Morgana muttered as she opened the window in order to let in the small red owl that was so eagerly pecking against the glass. 'Just because you're a nocturnal animal doesn't mean you have to deliver letters in the middle of the night.'

She picked up the owl, holding it carefully in both hands. The tiny bird was cold and quivering.

'Who made you a delivery owl, anyway?' Morgana asked, her voice suddenly much softer, and carefully placed the trembling owl onto her night stand. 'You can't be more than six inches tall. This letter is almost as big as you.'

Reminded of its task, the little owl dutifully stretched out its leg, and Morgana quickly untied the letter, not yet caring enough about it to check whom it was from. Her eyes were still on the little owl. It looked so cold and in need of warming up.

'Do you like chocolate cake?' she asked, beckoning towards the oversized muffin Silvy had gifted her with. She had cut off a piece but only eaten half of it. The rest was still lying on a plate.

The little owl started to hoot, flapping its tiny wings expectantly.

'I guess that's a yes.'

Morgana laughed and put the plate with the unfinished slice of cake in front of the owl. At once, it started to eat with an appetite that suggested that it had flown across half of Britain.

'Enjoy your snack, little birdie,' Morgana said and patted the owl on its red-feathered head with her left hand while picking up the letter with her right. 'Let's see what cruel soul sent you on a trip to London in this weather.'

She recognised the handwriting at once, and any trace of a smile disappeared from her face. Why would Albus Dumbledore send her a letter? Surely, this wasn't just a birthday card.

With shaking fingers, she broke the red wax Hogwarts seal and unfolded the thick, yellowish parchment.

Dear Morgana,

Albus Dumbledore

Re-reading the letter, Morgana sank onto her bed, absent-mindedly patting the owl with her free hand. A proposition? What kind of proposition could Albus Dumbledore have for her? His letter sounded pleasant, no doubt, but Morgana was wary. The last time the Headmaster of Hogwarts had had a proposition for her, he had started off by asking her what she would do if she had the means to save many by sacrificing one. It had sounded so noble. And she had realised too late that the thing to be sacrificed would be her very soul. Whose bastard child would he want her to carry this time? And why the urgency? Dumbledore had said that what he had to discuss with her was 'very important'. What was so important that she had to meet with him tomorrow?

The owl clicked her beak, and Morgana looked up from her letter. There wasn't a single crumb left on the plate, but still the little bird seemed to want more. Morgana cut off another slice of cake and placed it on the plate.

'Eat, birdie,' she said. 'You deserve it. Shame on Dumbledore for making a tiny thing like you fly all the way from Hogwarts to London.'

Her eyes returned to the letter. Dumbledore had caught her unawares back in January. When she had left his office that evening, she had not understood that she had never had a choice. He had decided about her fate long before she had come to see him. He wouldn't do that to her once more.

With her jaw set, Morgana folded back the left upper corner of the letter, signalling to Dumbledore that she had accepted his invitation and that she would indeed be meeting him tomorrow afternoon. She would have tea with him and listen to whatever proposition he had. But she would not let him trick her once more. This time, she would be prepared.

* * *

Sunday afternoons were usually quiet at Hogwarts, but during the holidays they had a peaceful, almost ecclesiastical feel to them. Albus Dumbledore found that serene Sundays were often his most productive day of the week. Far from being a day of rest, it was actually a time when some of his best ideas and plans were formed. Order out of calm, so to speak.

The old wizard was now sitting at his desk in his office at Hogwarts, scribbling away on a piece of parchment with a huge, golden quill. Fawkes, his phoenix, was snoozing on his perch, his head under his wing. The only sounds to be heard were the whirring of the strange silver instruments that adorned the room, the portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses snoozing gently in their frames, and the crackle of fire in the enormous hearth.

But then, at exactly two o'clock, there was a hiss as the flames rose high in the grate and turned bright, emerald green, announcing the arrival of a guest travelling by Floo. Dumbledore looked up from his parchment to see a red-headed witch stepping out of the fireplace, brushing ashes off her robes.

'Ah, Morgana. Perfectly on time, as usual.' Dumbledore beamed whilst putting his papers away in the drawer of his desk. 'Come in, come in. Do have a seat.'

'Who knew punctuality would be a Slytherin trait?' Morgana smiled tightly, not altogether comfortable with the situation. But she took a seat opposite her former headmaster with as much ease as she could muster.

'I'd expect nothing less of a soon-to-be trainee Auror,' Dumbledore replied good-naturedly. 'Would you like something to drink? Tea? Dandelion and Burdock? Or, now you're of age, maybe something stronger?'

'Tea would be just fine, Professor. I don't drink alcohol,' Morgana answered quietly. As if she would let Dumbledore give her alcohol to cloud her judgement. Actually, she wasn't even sure if she should drink his tea.

Dumbledore inclined his head, then conjured a tea set impressively from thin air with a quick wave of his wand.

'Thank you for coming to see me at such short notice,' the old wizard began, sending a rattling cup and saucer floating over the desk towards Morgana, who managed to catch it without spilling a drop. 'I realise you must be very busy in the lead-up to your new job.'

'I welcome the distraction, Professor. Going jogging twice a day to be able to pass the physical exam isn't exactly what I call an exciting pastime.'

Dumbledore smiled at this. 'Ah, the hoops they make you jump through. Just procedure, of course. If Alastor was forced to take that test now, they'd never let him be an Auror.'

'To be honest, sir, I am more worried about the psychological test,' Morgana confessed. She didn't like the thought of some Ministry counsellor probing around in her psyche.

'Again, I'm not sure Alastor would pass that if he were in your shoes.' Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled characteristically over his half-moon spectacles. 'Although, it would be fun, I am sure, to test him. Constant vigilance.'

Morgana gave another tight smile and looked around the office. It felt like only yesterday she had last been in here, and yet like a whole lifetime had passed simultaneously.

'Didn't think I'd ever come back here,' she said quietly, watching Fawkes snoozing on his perch.

Dumbledore watched the young witch for a few moments in silence as she took a sip from her teacup. No matter what Snape thought of him, he was not heartless, and he did not like putting Morgana in yet another potentially dangerous situation. But she was perfect for the task at hand.

'Well, I can see you are anxious for me to cut to the chase and tell you why I really asked you here today,' he started.

'Yes, sir,' Morgana replied, placing her teacup back down on the desk with a rattle.

'Please, call me Albus.'

Morgana inclined her head politely. 'Albus.' Then, after a moment, 'That is weird, you know.'

'Yes, it is rather a strange name,' Dumbledore conceded. 'One of many, I'm afraid. My mother could not decide on just one name and so saddled me with no less than four forenames. I often think life may have been easier if she'd called me Brian to begin with.' He smiled benignly.

Morgana smiled back. The thought of a wizard called Brian was indeed a funny thought. 'I meant, calling you by your first name is weird, sir. Albus, I mean.'

'Well, you are no longer a student. Therefore, it would be inappropriate to call me sir, headmaster or professor,' Dumbledore pointed out. 'And we are far too acquainted for you to call me Mr. Dumbledore. Just call me plain old Albus. Everyone knows where they are then.'

'I'll do my best.'

Dumbledore smiled once more, knitted his fingers together and peered over his glasses. 'So, I was cutting to the chase, was I not?'

'You were trying.'

The old man took a deep breath before beginning, gazing at the young witch in front of him with his piercing, sparkly-blue eyes. 'The reason I have called you here is because I want to make you a proposition.'

'You mentioned that in your letter,' Morgana stated, her eyes now slightly narrowed. It was time to start being careful, then. After all, the last offer Dumbledore had made had turned her life upside down and had almost broken her sanity.

'As you may know, the Order of the Phoenix are part of an organised resistance against Voldemort.'

Morgana nodded.

'The Order needs brave, talented people, now more than ever, in order to thwart him,' Dumbledore continued. 'You, Morgana, have shown bravery in the face of adversity many times over the last year. Indeed, you directly helped the Order at great personal risk. And your very choice of career shows me that you are undoubtedly a very courageous young woman.'

'Is this a recruiting interview, Albus?' Morgana cut in. Why didn't the old man just say what was on his mind instead of covering her with flattery?

'No. There is no interview, Morgana,' Dumbledore replied gently. 'I want to ask you to join the Order of the Phoenix officially. You, if anyone, have shown me you have exactly the skills to fight against the Dark. We could not have made as much progress without your help last year.'

'Me? Order material?' Morgana almost snorted. 'A gullible young witch that fell for the first Dark wizard she met?'

'Older and more experienced witches have fallen for the charms of Lucius Malfoy,' Dumbledore replied calmly, graciously ignoring the muscle that twitched in Morgana's jaw at the very mention of Malfoy's name.

'Are you telling me I am to be trusted?' Morgana asked hoarsely. She didn't trust herself these days, let alone anyone else putting their trust in her.

'I trust you implicitly, Morgana,' Dumbledore answered, once more peering over his half-moon spectacles. 'I know you have what it takes. You would not have chosen to become an Auror if you did not believe you were strong enough to take on the challenge. And I would not be asking you to join the Order if I did not think you were ready for it.'

Morgana absent-mindedly toyed with the hem of her robe. Part of her knew that what Dumbledore was saying was true. And joining the Order would give her the chance to vanquish her demons. But the other part of her still resented the old man in front of her for what he had put her through last year.

Dumbledore, however, could see that the young witch was torn in making her decision.

'I realise this is a shock, Morgana,' he said quietly. 'You do not have to give me your answer straight away. You have much to think about. Please, take as much time as you need before giving me your answer. I want you to think it through carefully.'

But Morgana could not stop her suspicions getting the better of her. 'If I join the Order... IF... What would you want me to do?' Dumbledore had asked awful things of her before. Why should she think she would have it any easier this time?

'Each Order member is asked to do things related to their own line of work or their strengths,' Dumbledore replied calmly. 'Mostly, this involves collecting information. We have members from all aspects of the Wizarding world and the Ministry. Knowledge is power, after all.'

'One would think that Slytherins wouldn't be the first choice for the Order,' Morgana commented cynically.

'Well, one could think that. But you know as well as I that to judge a whole group from the behaviour of a few individuals in that group is morally wrong. We are lucky enough to be blessed with one brave Slytherin in the Order. I am hoping with you joining we can double that total.'

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled as he saw the flash of comprehension in Morgana's eyes.

Snape was in the Order, of course. How could she have forgotten? As much as she hated to admit it to herself, joining the Order seemed more appealing knowing that her former Head of House was also a member. Working alongside him in the Order would make them equals, something they had never been before. Maybe he would look at her differently now.

Morgana took a deep breath. 'I'm honoured by your offer, Albus, and by your trust. I'll think about it.'

Dumbledore smiled graciously. 'Thank you, Morgana. That is all I ask of you. This is your choice and your choice alone.'

Morgana nodded. 'Was there anything else?'

'Just to wish you the very best of luck on Monday, not that you'll need it.'

'Oh, I'll need a lot of luck.'

Morgana rose and was already on her way to the fireplace when she stopped suddenly. 'Sir... Albus, I mean? This might seem odd to you, but...'

'Go on...' Dumbledore encouraged, his fingers once more knitted together.

'Would it be alright for me to make a detour to the dungeon before I go? I kind of didn't want to be here at the end of term and didn't really say goodbye to the place properly.'

The old wizard smiled kindly. 'Of course, Morgana. Take your time. The Slytherin common room is not sealed over the summer. You should be able to enter without a password. Do you know your way to the kitchens from there? You can use the fire in the kitchens to Floo home afterwards.'

'Yes, I do know the way to the kitchens.' Morgana laughed. 'Don't tell me you don't know how many times Charis and I nicked some food from there for a midnight snack!'

Dumbledore looked innocent. 'I don't know what you mean.' His lips twitched with a playful smile.

Morgana could not help but grin. 'I'll be in touch, Albus. Whatever my decision is.'

'Very well. Take care of yourself, Morgana. And thank you for hearing me out.'

He watched carefully as the young witch left his office, closing the door quietly behind her. The wheels were in motion. And Dumbledore already knew what Morgana's decision would be.

* * *

Morgana rolled her eyes at herself as she – out of sheer habit – laid her hand against the cold cellar wall and opened her mouth to give the password that would allow her to enter the Slytherin common room. Dumbledore had said that the wards weren't activated during summer.

Indeed, she was granted access without the password, and moments later, she found herself standing in the dungeon-like room that had been her home for seven years. There was the green leather sofa which she had spilled ink on in her first year, and on the shelf behind it, the skull she had once let drop onto Crabbe's head, pretending that she'd had a sneezing attack while practising Levitation. Everyone had laughed then, even Crabbe. The idiot had thought that everyone was laughing about Morgana's inability to levitate a skull. He had never understood that people had been laughing at him.

Ah, true Slytherin spirit, Morgana thought with a sneer, wondering for the umpteenth time if the Slytherin common room had ever seen true friendship among its inhabitants. She, for one, sure hadn't.

During her first two years at Hogwarts, Morgana had rubbed along with her House mates just nicely. In fact, she had enjoyed the competitive attitude in her House and been encouraged by it to always give her very best. And only once or twice had anyone ever mentioned the topic of blood status. It had not seemed that important. But that attitude had changed when Draco Malfoy had come to Hogwarts. The little ferret had brought a huge, very old-looking book with him and had presented it to the entire House on his very first night. The book had contained family trees of the most ancient and esteemed Wizarding families. He had showed off his own ancestry and then carefully examined his House mates, one after the other. Those who hadn't been able to prove that their line was just as old as the Malfoys', or – even worse – couldn't prove their pure magical descent at all, were sneered at and told to sit down. That night, a clear line had been drawn in Slytherin House, a line that separated purebloods from the rest. Morgana, of course, had held a place on the 'proper' side, the pureblood side, but she had never liked her new status. She had not been brought up with the luxury of a pureblood home. She had not been taught the same values as the likes of Malfoy. And so she hadn't cared. But her attempts to make friends with her other House mates, the half-bloods and the Muggle-borns, had been met by sneers from the purebloods and suspicion from the others. And so she had learnt to keep to herself, silently ignoring the snide remarks and fearful looks.

All of a sudden, Morgana couldn't remember why she had wanted to visit the Slytherin common room. The place held not a single good memory and was best left forgotten. There were better places to visit. The Astronomy Tower, for example, or the Room of Requirement, where she had spent many hours with her best friend. But once Morgana had left the Slytherin common room, her legs didn't carry her up the stairs, but deeper into the darkness of the dungeons. Outside the heavy oak door that led to Professor Snape's study, she finally fell dead in her tracks, almost expecting the door to be ripped open and Snape to come striding out, chiding her for loitering outside his office. But Snape wasn't there, of course. He certainly had better things to do than hang around at Hogwarts during the summer holidays. And so the door remained firmly shut.

Morgana sighed and let herself fall against the cold stone wall, closing her eyes for a moment. Had Snape been there, she would not have known what to say to him anyway. It would probably have been awkward to see him, considering that Morgana had never said goodbye to him at the end of term. He would have deserved a goodbye, she mused now. And a thank you for all he had done for her. But Slytherins were awful at expressing their gratitude, and they were even worse at accepting it. No, she wouldn't have said thank you had her mentor been here now, Morgana concluded. And she wouldn't have apologised for not having said goodbye either. But she would have asked for his advice. Merlin knew she needed it.

She had stepped into Dumbledore's office with the conviction that she would listen to him, listen only, and then tell him that she had no intention of doing anything for him ever again. She had done enough, suffered enough and lost enough. But somehow, Dumbledore had managed to confuse her, and she was now actually considering his offer. After all, the Order of the Phoenix were fighting the Dark Lord. And the Dark Lord had to be defeated.

But what would Dumbledore make her do for the Order, Morgana wondered. He had talked about each of the Order members being given tasks that were related to their line of work or their strengths. He couldn't have any need for her in her role as an Auror, Morgana thought. He had Moody and Tonks. Surely, that was enough. As for her strengths, what kind of strengths did she have anyway?

Dumbledore had also said that Order members collected information. What kind of information did she have access to? She had no influential friends, no contacts, nothing. Who would she spy on?

Morgana pushed herself off the wall, shaking her head. She was worthless for the Order, in her opinion. Dumbledore must know that, too. So maybe, him inviting her was a kind of atonement, a way for him to say that he was sorry for what he had put her through?

Frowning, Morgana started walking. Suddenly, she did not want to be in the dungeons anymore. She wanted to be outdoors and breathe fresh air, let it fill her lungs and empty her mind. And she wanted to talk to her best friend.

Her hand went to her throat, and her fingers closed around the silver star on her necklace, despite her knowing that the charm wasn't working anymore and that Charis would not heed her calling for her. But somehow, the mere knowledge of Charis wearing an identical necklace gave Morgana comfort. Not long now. Soon, Charis would come to London, and Morgana would be able to pour her heart out. Now she could only hope that she would have the courage to do so.