She had felt it, a rush of darkness, death and love that would have baffled a younger or less talented witch. Without a moment's hesitation she had followed it, shifting through air and shadow as easily as darkness itself before she appeared in what at first appeared to be a quaint cottage. Her long black tresses spilled over the shoulders of her gold spun cloak as she lowered her hood. Ice blue eyes gazed around a quaint living room without much care.
Her eyes did however pause on the moving pictures that surrounded the fireplace. At least she was in the home of a magic wielder, even if those who now ruled Magical Britain were but shadows of those who had come before. Their dependency on twigs and the body parts of creatures more powerful than they could have hoped to be was disgusting to her royal sensitivities. The family in the portraits though was smiling obviously happy despite the civil war that tore the country asunder.
If only she had managed to overthrow her traitorous brother, then the descendent of a peasant would never have thought he was capable of usurping her control. However, thanks to the bearded idiot and her bastard brother this was the state of her father's kingdom. Broken into quarters by the people who should have been serving her and her children, the mundane humans split by political alliances and those who worshiped the old fool by blood. Her lips almost sneered at the thought of her son, the failed plan of vengeance to take the throne from his father, her brother, and return it to her.
She jumped slightly as a cat streaked from the doorway to her right and through what she could see of the dining room to the back door. Curious she moved opposite of the feline tracing its steps which lead to the foyer. A bespectacled man lay dead upon the floor his feet were bare and she saw none of this generations preferred wands anywhere near his hands. Without pity or a glance back toward his prone form, her gaze moved the stairs where smoke rolled near the ceiling.
Daintily she stepped over the corpse of the unknown man and moved upward. The very air crackled with power as she neared the top of the landing, her eyes watching for any possible attacker. As she passed the last step, she felt a ward fall over her before her ears were assaulted with a child's cries. Glancing back at the stairs she wondered if the silencing ward was placed before the man downstairs died or after before deciding it was trivial and shaking the thought away.
Her black heeled boots clacked across the floor closer to the crying child and the source of power she felt on the stairs. A door was blown off its hinges roughly halfway down the hall leading to a room covered in yellow bear in a red shirt eating from jars labeled honey. Her eyes widened as she spotted the far wall however, mostly because there was no wall. A gaping hole of splintered wood showed the street outside and the twinkling stars that danced around the full moon.
A red head lie crumbled upon the floor, as bare of foot as the man downstairs, possibly his wife. Just a foot in front of the woman was a set of acromantula silk black robes and a twig of Yew. While she personally had never met the supposed Dark Lord that filled the peasants with such dread as to make his name taboo, she had heard rumors and stories from those whom wizard-kind now deemed beneath them. The heel of her boot splintered the white wand in two as her ice-like eyes finally deemed fit to fix on the crib.
A young babe sniffled as it looked up at her from behind its bars. The obvious baby boy's raven hair was a nest for stray birds though his emerald eyes glowed with power. His chubby hands reached up toward her and just as she had over a thousand years ago she stretched her long graceful fingers down to the infant and lifted him gracefully. He weighed quite a bit for a babe and she would guess him over a year old, though who he was she had no idea. Beneath his bangs a scar had already formed from the backlash of magic she had felt before arriving shaped like a bolt from Heaven.
A crash on the stairs caught her attention and she turned, automatically placing the babe on her hip as she took in the sight at the top of the stairs. A man stood there with shallow skin and the nose of a hawk and a twig in his hand. Lanky hair that looked to be filled with pond scum hung over his narrowed blackened eyes. His yellowing teeth were bared as his eyes drifted from her to the redhead on the floor. "Who has… what have you… what have I done," he had begun snarling but in the end dropped to his knees as his words turned to near incoherent sobs. His wand rolled from his relaxed fingers as he stared at the curvaceous woman who held the child.
With a glance into the man's eyes, she as easily as tearing through wetted paper tore through the shields he had created to hide his mind. "Severus Snape, the Betrayer of Love," she said condescendingly as he gaped at her in shock. "You gave the peasant masquerading as a lord part of a prophecy and thus started the events that ended this night. You killed your great love and her true love, and nearly her child. Harry is it?"
The potion's master could only stare at the woman who had laid his greatest sin down at his feet as though it were as nothing. She had ripped his Occlumency to pieces, something not even the Dark Lord had been able to do. He felt a shudder roll through him as the woman held herself up as if she was royalty, a Dark Queen that Bellatrix Lestrange could only hope to mimic.
As the seconds ticked by he realized the woman was holding Lily Evans' son, possibly planning to take him. He moved to grab his wand, only to feel every nerve ending in his body be set alight and stabbed at the same time. It was pain a thousand times worse than anything he had felt before. "None of that now," the woman said before she silenced the greasy haired man and quietly cooed at the toddler who had begun to scream along with the man on the floor. "There there, dear heart, would you care for a lullaby?"
With her attention diverted the pain lessened and Severus began to move again. His black eyes fixed on the woman's free hand waiting for her to draw her wand. However, a mere flick of her wrist caused chains with links as thick as a man's wrist to suddenly shackle him to the floor, his fingers just inches out of reach of his wand. His head though slowly twisted toward her, watching her move the boy to her bosom as he listened to the words that floated from between the woman's pouted lips.
"Hush, child, darkness will rise from the deep, and carry it down into sleep, child. Darkness will rise from the deep, and carry it down into sleep," she sang, sending shudders of dread through Snape's body as he realized who stood before him, holding the son of the woman he loved and singing him to sleep. He thrashed against the chains but they barely clinked enough to make noise. "Guileless son, I'll shape your belief, and you'll always know that your father's a thief. And you won't understand the cause of your grief, but you'll always follow the voices beneath."
The woman easily stepped past his struggling form as she hummed a few bars toward the infant who was quickly fading out. "Such a diamond among the ruff," she whispered and planted a kiss between the babe's eyes as it drifted off to sleep. "He'll be powerful when he's older, if taught correctly. But this will have to go," she said flippantly as she pressed a finger to the boy's scar and drew it back, coaxing a black mist from the boy's flesh. "How crude," she sneered and flicked her finger toward Snape's back, sending the mist flying toward his chained person.
A smile played at her lips as she watched the silenced man scream in agony. The roar of one of the two wheeled machines that people now preferred over horses brought her back into the moment. Of course if she had felt the attack others would know of it. Too refined to spew forth obscenities like some preferred to do, she simply frowned in agitation before her body faded into the air as she silently vanished from the quickly waking Godric's Hollow, the toddler asleep in her arms.
Fate reeled behind the woman's actions sending ripples through the future for years to come. While it was only Albus Dumbledore's testimony that kept Snape out of Azkaban for being found at the scene of the Potter's murder, the entire community snubbed the former Death Eater. The shops in Diagon Alley refused to give him service, sending him down into Knockturn Alley for potion supplies, even after he was hired to replace Horace Slughorn as the Potion's Professor at Hogwarts. The Headmaster though could not name him Head of Slytherin however placing Professor Vector who taught arithmancy into the roll instead.
Auror Sirius Black, who had brought Snape in that horrible night, was hailed as a hero. After divulging the truth of Marauder's animagus forms and the true secret keeper for the Potters under Veritaserum, he was fined a mere hundred galleons and a country wide search for Peter Pettigrew was put underway. Though the rat was never found, Sirius found himself thrust into the role of Head Auror, squeezing past the older and more experienced Rufus Scrimgeour. After taking the position he shifted priority from finding his traitorous friend to locating his godson.
With Sirius and Albus clashing over who would be the one to take care of Harry when he was located, the frog in woman's skin, Umbridge, tried to pass many laws and regulations against what she felt were mere halfbreeds. However, with half the Marauders still alive and with clear names, the arguing Head Auror and Headmaster easily swatted down her attempts to make it illegal for werewolves to marry, breed or work, or for the Ministry to seize Centaur lands. Thus, Remus Lupin was able to open a small second hand store with a loan from Sirius, and the two remained best friends.
With teams out searching for Pettigrew and Harry Potter, it was easy enough for a taskforce of aurors to arrive at the Longbottom's home when Alice first called for them. While they arrived too late to save Frank's sanity, Neville was able to grow up under his mother's care, well away from great-uncle Algie. While his grandmother still expects Neville to make his father proud, Alice is there to remind him that Frank would and probably is proud of his son, just for being who he is.
Albus Dumbledore though was at his wits end. Between his private and public battles with Sirius Black on custody of the Boy-Who-Might-Of-Lived he was bogged down with duties to Hogwarts, the International Confederation of Wizards, and the Wizengamot. His own searches for Harry Potter had been fruitless, no matter which wizarding government he turned too. It was nearly time for the boy to come to Hogwarts and though the letter would find Harry regardless of his location, the Headmaster could not. All he had to go on was his potion master's continuous argument.
"I've told you a thousand times, Headmaster. James Potter's brat was taken by Morgana Le Fay!"
AN: I always enjoyed powerful, political and intelligent Harry stories also having him with a Harem of girls. But there are not enough Morgana Le Fay stories! I demand more, and so, for Halloween I decided to write one. How will being raised by Morgana Le Fay alter Harry's Hogwarts years? Quite a bit actually with what I have planned. Please, leave a review. Bye now.