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Chapter II: The Lost Kingdom

(Dumbledore P.O.V)

"Severus," Dumbledore whispered as he watched the potions master mutter incoherently, his wand swiping over the Headmaster's Darkened Hand. "Severus," Dumbledore repeated this time gaining the black-haired man's attention, "How long do I have?"

"Maybe until the end of the school year," Snape whispered, "Maybe a little less." The former Death Eater released a tired sigh lifting his wand from the Headmaster's hand, "Why would you even consider putting on the ring?" He asked with a snarl, "Why would you put yourself at risk? Especially now that he's back."

"Voldemort is not mine to finish," Dumbledore muttered, "He never has been." The elderly wizard's eyes floated towards the now destroyed ring that sat decomposing in a beaker of basilisk venom, "As for the ring, I admit that I should have been more careful. It had a certain compulsion to it, begging me to wear it." His eyes moved towards a snitch that rested on the corner of his desk, "Though, I'm not quite sure now if it was the ring that spoke to me… or something else."

Dumbledore swallowed remembering the distant call of his sister's voice, his focus forcibly shifting towards Severus, "The boy isn't ready. He'll never be ready. He lost faith in you and has gone off to train on his own, he'll never be powerful enough to defeat the Dark Lord."

"Worry not Severus," Dumbledore whispered, "Harry will succeed in what is needed of him. Though this subject grows weary." The elderly wizard put his aged hand over his blackened one, before letting out a tired sigh, "Tell me, what news do you have for me?"

"The Dark Lord has ordered attacks on random Muggle-Born witches and wizards as well as Blood Traitors, many of them being people he assumes won't cause enough stir to form a coalition against him, but enough to strike fear into the heart of the wizarding world," Snape hissed, "Though that plan hasn't been as successful as he hoped, many wizards refusing to bow due to their belief in both you and the Potter boy."

Dumbledore smiled slightly, Good, at least on that end, Harry has succeeded. Yet the grim news from his most loyal hadn't come to a close, "Another matter to discuss is the fate of the Malfoys. With Lucius being shamed, the Dark Lord has taken over their residence, but their punishment hasn't ended there. I'm certain you're aware of the Malfoy-boy's condition?"

Dumbledore nodded, Draco's Lycanthropy had been a highly contested issue between himself and the Malfoy patriarch, "The Dark Lord has offered to cure Draco's problem if he succeeds in his mission."

"That mission being?" Dumbledore asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Your assassination," Snape whispered quietly.

Dumbledore fell silent before a gentle chuckle left his lips, "Well Riddle's always been ambitious." Snape's eyes widened at the Headmaster's remark, "Listen to me Severus, it is paramount that Draco succeeds in his task, there is no reason for the boy to suffer at the Dark Lord's hand when I have already subjected myself to my death. But for the sake of his soul, it must not be him that deals the killing blow. Do what you must to ensure that Narcissa calls upon her sister to do what must be done in the end for Draco's sake."

Severus nodded as Dumbledore rose, lifting his wand, "Severus, I have one last favor to ask of you," The potions master turned to face him, "In your estimation, the Dark Lord remains unaware of the power my wand possesses, yes?"

Snape nodded, "He is unaware that your wand is what it is, but make no mistake, the Dark Lord is searching for the Elder Wand."

"Excellent, his obliviousness can work in our favor then," Dumbledore began, "Severus, it is important that this wand falls into Harry's hand when the time is right. I want you to take ownership of this wand here by disarming me." Snape cocked his head in silent intrigue as Dumbledore continued, "I plan on giving you the job you've always wanted in return for this favor. I will make you this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, but it is of the utmost importance that, though you will continue to carry your current wand, you allow yourself to be disarmed by Potter. Thus transferring ownership of the elder wand to the boy, and giving him the weapon he needs."

Snape snarled, the idea of being publicly embarrassed by the son of his childhood enemy must have made him sick to his stomach. Nevertheless, the man nodded curtly readying his wand, Dumbledore nodded and with a flick to the Potions Master's wrist, the legendary weapon left his hand falling into Severus'. Dumbledore smiled as Snape walked towards him, dropping the wand at Dumbledore's feet in order not to break the transfer of power before the Headmaster bent down to retrieve the wand he'd used for so many years, the feeling of the wand's lost allegiance making his heart sink mildly. "Thank you, Severus. Now, if you will excuse me, I'm off to find your replacement. There is only one man whom I believe is capable of filling in your shoes."

Snape nodded excusing himself from the Headmaster's Office as Dumbledore muttered to himself, "This would have been much easier if I had Harry to barter with, though I suppose it can't be helped, I hope that his mention will be enough of a bribe to convince him." Dumbledore stuck his blackened hand into his robe as he turned to face the now green burning fire, "Very well Horace, it's time to renegotiate your contract."

(Neville P.O.V)

Neville stood behind the table of his family's alchemy lab. He never truly had a knack for potions, but his mother had back before the first war, and his father had spared no expense developing a state of the art laboratory for her. Neville had never imagined that he too would one day spend so much time in the spacious room, but he knew he had no choice, he wouldn't like Harry down, he wouldn't let his parents down.

He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead as he stood over a potted Devil's Snare plant, a smoking beaker in hand. "Neville, wait!" Hermione called out, he turned to find the bushy-haired girl behind him holding out a pair of goggles. "Put these on, remember what happened last time." Neville nodded gratefully, putting the goggles over his eyes, his arm trembling slightly as he dropped the slightest amount of the fluid onto the plant.

He squinted watching as the plant began to coil looking as if a black hole had surrounded them, a gravitational force demanding the vines receded into a spherical form, the size of a larger than average marble. A grin of sheer relief overtook Neville's face as he reached down gripping the green sphere, "It worked, the shrinking sedative worked."

Hermione jumped up and down with excitement, and Neville couldn't help but smile, the ambitious idea had been hers after Neville had hit a brick wall on ideas of possibly making the more aggressive plants more portable for combat. Through the mixture of a high power sedative and shrinking agent, a concoction that had taken the two the better part of a month, they had finally succeeded, at least with less 'mentally active' plants. They'd managed, for example, to make a pot of Devil Snare more portable, but a mandrake had proved troublesome.

While Neville had wanted to join with his girlfriend, the word still felt strange to say, there was still the second half of the experiment that needed to be completed… The revival of the plant. Though, to his great luck, it seemed as if their little Bowtruckle, which Hermione had playfully named Druid, had the answer to that question.

Neville's heart pounded in his ears as he watched the tiny creature walk towards the spherical and subdued plant before injecting one of its leafy tendrils into the ball. Druid nodded affirmatively as Neville gazed upon the training dummy he had set just for this occasion, One, two, He whispered in his mind, before he chucked the now circular plant at the dummy and watched in awe as the plant exploded, binding the dummy in Devil's Snare dropping it to the ground.

"Yes!" He and Hermione called out with glee, the two observing the way the Devil's Snare expanded, growing rapidly over the training dummy until the snap of its wooden neck echoed through the room. "Okay," Neville whispered, "We got the expansion process down, now we only have one more question to answer, how will we recall the plant?"

Neville watched as Hermione lit her wand forcing the plant to recede from the dummy before she too dropped a bit of the potion on the Devil's Snare, picking up the now coiled ball and placing it into the freezer. He smiled as Hermione pulled her curly hair back into a tight knot and walked towards the conjured chalkboard. This time Harry, Michael, I won't need you two to always have to protect me. He thought to himself before rushing to Hermione's side, This time I'll be able to hold my own.

(Harry P.O.V)

"At least your blood-traitorous father understood this one truth," The Dark Lord's voice whispered in his mind, "The weak don't get to choose how they die… Avada Kedavra!"

"Cedric!" Harry screamed out the flash of green light transforming into a clear white as Harry's eyes bolted open, the sound of Loki hissing at the abrupt awakening echoing through the open field. Harry's body screamed with pain as he looked down at his heavily bandaged torso, the droplets of sweat beating down his face from the horrid dream.

He rubbed his hand against the newly formed gashes that littered his torso. The training under Moody had been like nothing he'd ever felt before. Sometimes, Harry wondered if the man was seriously trying to kill him, the new scars on his body acting as evidence for the idea. Yet, as he'd awoken he felt the grizzled Auror standing over him, his hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder. "You alright, boy?" It was rare, but it wasn't the first time Harry had heard a glimmer of concern within the elderly Auror's voice.

He nodded while watching as Moody handed one of the pre-packaged sandwiches they'd bought in Portsmouth. Harry had taken note of how far they'd traveled since the start of the summer, the two wizards never staying in one place longer than a day. Though for as sporadic as Moody had been in their direction, it was clear to Harry that they'd been marching towards the southern coast of England, though Harry never got an answer as to why?

"Eat," Moody barked out, his electric-blue eye swinging towards the back of his head, "Quickly, whatever's been tailing us is right on our ass, we need to move fast."

"Why don't we just stand and fight them," Harry whispered, "I sense them too, there's only two of them, we can take them."

"That maybe so," Moody growled, "If you were in peak condition. The way you are now, you can barely lift that wand of yours. We'll be safe to relax a bit once we reach her kingdom."

Harry growled as he looked down at his injured body. He understood why Moody was training him the way he was. Mercy and Fairness, Harry knew now first hand that those attributes weren't in the Dark Lord's playbook, and to train under those false principles would have been suicidal. Yet he couldn't help but begin to miss the nagging tone of Madam Pomfrey, as angry as Harry made that woman, her healing skills were far better than Moody's which consisted of a pain potion and bandages. Harry shook the thought from his head, turning to face his mentor, "You keep talking about this her," Harry queried in between bites, the sandwich tasting like a grand scale meal after being subjected to Moody's 'Off-The-Land' cooking, "Who is she?"

"She," Moody said as he finished his final bite, "Is the only witch I know that may be able to figure out just what the hell is going on inside that head of yours." The grizzled aurora rose, pointing slamming his staff, his eyes hovering over their drawstring sack that thanks to magic doubled as their suitcase before the nicest clothes Harry owned zoomed from the bag. With a less than cautious throw, the clothes landed at Harry's feet as the Auror growled, "Put those on," He muttered, "She won't tolerate a poorly dressed stranger in her court."

Harry looked down, forced to admit that he was looking a little shabby. His Falmouth Falcons T-shirt had been ripped to bits during their training, looking more like a vest exposing his bandages, and his jeans had nearly become makeshift shorts from the intensity of his duels. Though, he did raise an eyebrow as he looked towards his dress robes, as memories of his time with Daphne came rushing back.

I miss you, Princess, He thought softly in his mind as he lifted the robes. He swallowed the thought, You'll see her soon, you need to focus Potter. He nodded sliding his arms through the silk dress shirt but found a problem as he went to fasten the buttons. Though he'd been tailored for the robes less than a year ago, he no longer fit, his expanded chest and shoulder muscles tightly compressed. His pants had still managed to fit, but looked far less flowy as his thighs and calves had grown more bulky and firm. Progress is Progress, Harry thought to himself as he lifted his wand, expanding the shirt, pants, and robes to fit him better before turning to Moody. The grizzled Auror still looking as shabby as ever, "I thought you said she wouldn't tolerate a poorly dressed stranger."

"I'm no stranger to her," Moody whispered, "She and I share a special relationship." Harry lifted his eyebrow as Loki meowed loudly demanding his attention. He knelt down, taking the cat into his arms as he returned his glance at Moody. "Alright boy," Moody hissed, "Take my hand, we should be close enough to apparate from here."

"Apparate where?"

"Avalon," The Auror called out before with a crack they vanished.

Harry's body felt like it hit a steel barrier with the force of a fastball as he stumbled backward, groaning as he rolled on the ground. "Ouch," Harry groaned as he rose to his feet, "What the-," Though Harry's voice died in his throat as his eyes nearly rolled out of his head. Harry had seen castles before, but they had always looked so run down and old. Yet, while what his eyes were absorbing was most definitely old, the place was still buzzing with life.

Harry had fallen speechless as he gazed upon the ironclad walls, as men with chainmail armor marched along the carved pathways above him, crossbows in hand. Harry's eyes drifted towards the large drawbridge that stood lifted before them, a moat of a venomous green liquid circling the kingdom which looked to Harry as if it spread for miles. "Halt," The armed guard from atop the monumental walls, "State your business!"

"Open the door!" Moody roared out, "I have business with your Queen!"

"L-Lord Moody," The guard whimpered out, "Apologise my lord, I had no idea it was you." The guard shifted towards his fellow members, "Lower the gate you fools! Lord Moody has returned!"

"Lord?" Harry whispered out his head cocked as he turned to the Auror, "What are they talking about?"

"It's a long story," Moody replied blankly as the thundering sound of the dropping drawbridge shook the ground, "Come on boy. Follow me, and don't get lost." Harry swallowed, though his chest still felt riddled with doubt as he marched after his mentor now under the shadows of the castle walls. Faster than Harry even thought possible, the drawbridge had returned to its lifted state, and Harry began to feel his heart beat faster, for better or for worse, he and Moody were now trapped in this town.

His eyes scanned feverishly, watching as a myriad of shopkeepers raced towards their windows to gaze upon them. Harry had felt strange as he walked through the town square. Cobbler shops, armories, and old fashioned bakeries lined the cobblestone streets. Men and women dressed in gowns and tunics, swords hanging by their side stood in reverence of Moody, some kneeling, while others politely bowed bestowing upon his lordly greetings. It looked to Harry as if he'd just entered a land lost in time, paralyzed in the medieval era. Though nothing confirmed that more than the sight that stood before him. It was a castle that dwarfed even Hogwarts inside, the grey stone building towering over the miniature town, as purple fires lit the braziers illuminating the dark sky that loomed over the ancient marvel.

Harry's body began to tremble, the castle itself seeming to pulsate with magic so powerful that the average civilian could not even approach the gate which lay open, almost as if the owner never expected anyone to be capable of entering. The magic, if even possible, reeked with foul intent, and Harry had felt almost as if the invisible force was trying to wrap around his neck and strangle him. He pulled out his wand but Moody barked out at him, "Put that away, she's merely testing your will, if she wanted to harm you, you'd already be dead."

Harry swallowed doing what his mentor had ordered, his Kneazle trembling in his arm unable to even move under the tremendous magical pressure. Each step had felt exhaustive, the air feeling thin. They couldn't possibly have been that high up, and yet, Harry had felt like he couldn't breathe. His back hunched slightly, the rooms beginning to feel as if they were being enhanced by extra gravity, and yet Moody looked fine, as if this was nothing more than a simple walk in the park. Suddenly, however, the man stopped, kneeling before a set of double doors before bellowing, "My Queen, may I enter?"

The door swung open, and Harry had been sent flying, his body pinned against the grey masonry. Loki had fallen to the ground, meowing loudly for help, he too, now unable to move. Harry pulled his fist forward, gaining just a bit of traction before the wall pulled him back as if his body had become magnetized to the wall. What the hell is happening? Harry hissed as he turned to face his mentor who hadn't even bothered to turn and face him. Harry wanted to scream for Moody's attention, yet his voice had been silenced. Suddenly, his eyes had become forcibly drawn to the throne that was planted to the back of the room, resting atop a three-tiered staircase. Then, faster than Harry could blink, a figure, white and translucent emerged from the wall before sitting graciously atop the throne.

A ghost? Harry thought, examining the pale figure. As his vision cleared, he had begun to make out the ghost's appearance. It was a woman, a frighteningly beautiful one. Her face regal and perfect in every way, her eyes a stunning blue, and her hair a gorgeous red done up in a convoluted, cascading braid. "Moody, my love, it has been far too long since I have seen your face."

"I apologize, my queen, I had been called upon to fulfill other commitments," Moody's head rose to face the woman, "Though the time seems to have no effect on your beauty, Lady le Fay."

"Always with the formality," The ghost said with a gentle laugh, "It's the last thing I expect to hear from somebody like you Alastor. You know that you are one of the few mortals I allow to call me by my name."

"Of course, Lady Morgana."

Harry's heart seemed to sink in his chest as his eyes had become paralyzed upon the beautiful ghost. That's Morganna, Harry whispered silently in his mind, Why are we here? Why does Moody know her? Why-, Harry hadn't a chance to ask any more questions as Morgana called out with one of her own, "You know that it is always a pleasure to see you, Alastor. But tell me," Harry suddenly felt his body detach from the wall, his frame now being sent soaring towards the dark witch, hovering just before her crystal blue eyes, "Why have you brought this boy with you? You know how I detest children."

"Forgive me, my lady," Moody whispered, "But I had no other choice. This boy, Harry Potter, he's my student, and he is in need of your help."

"Your student?" Morgana whispered, cocking her head as Harry felt the witch's eyes scan him, "Handsome boy I suppose, but I recall you telling me your student was a woman. Tongs? Toms? Something like that?"

"Tonks, my lady," Moody said with a nod, "Nymphadora Tonks. It was true the girl was a student of mine in the past, but she's grown into a capable witch in her own right."

"Ah yes, Nymphadora, an atrocious name that poor girl has," Morgana said with a crooked smile, "So this boy has become her replacement, I must say, I'm intrigued." Harry swallowed as he felt the icy touch of the witch's hand glide across his face, "Never before have I seen a mortal with two magical signatures within him. And more so, never have I felt two magical signatures so strongly opposed."

"One of them," Morgana whispered, her nose curling, "Reeks of foul magic."

The witch snapped and Harry felt his body collapse on the floor, panting with exhaustion as he looked up at the floating witch. How can a ghost have so much power still? Harry gripped his wrist hoping to stop the shaking as Moody called out, "It is exactly for that reason that I have come to beg your assistance. This boy, he's destined to silence a great evil, and yet, for some reason, said evil was somehow found within the boy. He requires your help, we require your help."

"And why should I assist the boy in such a venture?" Morganna asked, "No matter what the outcome of this destined battle is, it will have no effect on my kingdom."

"Our enemy's name is Voldemort," Harry whispered out, drawing the eyes of the witch towards him, "And he is being hailed now as the greatest Dark Wizard of all time."

"I don't believe I gave you permission to speak in my court," The witch hissed, "And do I look frightened by the mention of this 'Voldemort'." Harry's eyes locked in on the witch as she lifted her hand. Without a second's hesitation, Harry's body had been slammed into the ground under the witch's magical pressure, the whole castle shaking as purple miasmic aura began to cloud Harry's mind. Ten, Fifty, no, this power is at least a hundred times more powerful than his. "If this supposed Dark Lord wants to come to claim my territory, he's welcome to try it. I've been terribly bored since Merlin died, perhaps this 'Voldemort' may be capable of providing me a moment's entertainment."

Think Harry, there has to be something you can say. Then, he heard Moody call out, "Forgive my pupil, his ignorance knows no bounds. He was foolish to suggest that someone like Voldemort could provide even the most minor threat to your kingdom. But he is not wrong on one point," The pressure surrounding Harry's body had been lifted as Morgana's focus had been returned to Moody, "Voldemort is being hailed as the greatest Dark Wizard of all time, his legend is encroaching upon your legacy, with some wizards foolishly believing he is a greater Dark Mage than you."

"Impossible!" Morgana cried out, "That's a lie!"

"You've been gone a long time, my Queen," Moody called out, "Your power here is supreme, but you've been confined to this Kingdom for all eternity by Merlin. Your name is now nothing but a legend, some in our world even ponder if you truly existed." Moody bowed deeply, "The presence of Voldemort is damaging your legacy, but one way that you could secure your name throughout history, is if you were responsible for ensuring that this imposter to your title was defeated by a mere child."

The trembling of the castle stopped as a smile grew upon the Dark Witch's face, "I see, a very interesting proposition, but I need more. Perhaps ensuring the boy's victory will secure my legacy, but what of my personal happiness, what of my boredom? You know what I want to hear from you Alastor, say it and I shall help your student."

Harry's eyes turned to the Auror as he bowed, "I swear to you, my queen, that at the moment of my death, I shall return to you as a ghost and live by your side for all eternity." Harry knew the seriousness of the vow his mentor had just taken. To become a ghost was a costly choice, to willingly give up the paradise that many believed to reside on the other side was not something most wanted to willingly sacrifice, and yet, Moody had done so without a moment's hesitation, Moody had given up his freedom for his sake.

"Very well then," Morgana's eyes fell upon Harry forcing his body to shiver, "I shall help you, boy." Morgana snapped once more and Harry fell to the ground once more being magnetized to the floor as he looked up at the Dark Witch floating above him, "Now then, let's figure out what exactly is in your head."

Harry couldn't even protest as the ghost sunk into his body, his whole frame feeling as if it had become submerged into Icy Water before his vision flashed to black. He opened his eyes finding himself at the Hogwarts Black Lake, the ghost now in full color beside him. "A rather impressive Occlumency screen, it almost put up a meager amount of resistance to me… almost." Harry turned, his jaw hanging open, the witch had broken through Dumbledore's placed occlumency as if it was child's play. He swallowed as the witch's brows furrowed, "It seems that the source of this foul scent is nearby. You must know where it is boy, don't make me waste my time."

Harry nodded, focusing on the Hogwarts Trunk that Dumbledore had instructed Harry to lock his connection to Voldemort within nearly two years ago. The trunk now forcefully being dragged up to the surface. Harry watched as Morgana walked across the water as if it was solid ground coming face to face with the trunk before in the distance Harry heard the legendary witch whisper, "I see… But to do something like this… it's nothing short of an atrocity."

"To do something like what?" Harry called out.

"This is no average dark connection, boy," Morgana whispered, "It's something far more foul."

The feeling of Morgana leaving his body had felt as if he had been pulled in half, the ghost looking down upon him as he panted, desperately trying to cling to consciousness. "Hm," Morgana said glancing down upon him, "So you managed to stay awake, fascinating."

"My lady," Moody called out, "I take it that you saw the darkness within the boy, the presence of another magic."

Morgana nodded raising her translucent hand to her chin, scratching it in intrigue, "It's a truly sickening case, not even I would sink to such a level of impropriety, but it seems as though the connection you share with this 'Voldemort' is far more complex than I first assumed. It is not just your minds that share a link, but your magical cores, and judging by the incompatibility of your magics, I can see that it wasn't done willingly."

"What-," Harry said trying to stand, his whole body still trembling from Morgana's vacation of his body, "What does that mean?"

"Tell me, boy," Morgana said coldly, "Have you been informed of the two aspects of life within a wizard?"

"The life force and the magical core," Harry replied curtly earning the smallest grin from the dark witch.

"Correct," Morgana said, "I'm impressed boy, I took you for a much dumber mortal than you appear to be." The witch tilted her head glancing down once more at Harry's battered body, "In the simplest terms, you have another magical core dwelling within you, and due to its lack of compatibility with your natural core, the two are at war with one another. Your own magical ability is being stunted by the other's presence, yet the foreign core is without a doubt far greater than your own. Which is why, I would wager to bet, that in moments of crisis, it is this secondary core which takes control. Am I correct in this assumption?"

Harry swallowed, he remembered the hazy feeling when he'd found himself face to face with the Horned Serpent during the first task. He remembered the words of his mentor after the ritual in which he claimed that whatever was inside of his had almost killed them. His silence had been enough of an answer for the Witch who grinned sickeningly, pleased at her deductive ability before Moody replied, "I hate to admit it, but that is the case, my lady." Harry watched as Morgana turned to face Moody, "It is why we have come to you, we are looking for a way to remove the foreign core."

"Removing it is not possible," Morgana said curtly, forcing even Moody's jaw to drop as the Dark Witch circled him. "Well, I mean, I could kill the boy, that would remove both cores in theory as each are bound to the boy's life force, but I assume you wish to keep him alive." Moody nodded confirming Morgana's assumption as she sighed, "Then I suppose the only other way would be to merge the two cores into one, with the boy's original core consuming the foreign one. Though with the foreign core being much more potent, that too seems unlikely."

"So the options are that you kill me, or I possibly die trying to encompass the portion of Voldemort's core that's within me?" Harry whispered out. The ghost turned to him nodding simply to confirm his theory as Harry continued, "Okay then, how do I go about absorbing his core?"

"Perhaps I misunderstood," Morgana said calmly, "I was under the impression that you wanted to live? Attempting to merge your cores would be suicide."

"I won't die," Harry replied, his glazed-over eyes looking intently upon the red-haired ghost. "All my life, I lived for one purpose. To become strong enough to kill the man that murdered my family. I wasn't strong enough when we first met, and because of my weakness, he killed a man that I admired and an elf that I loved. I will never allow that to happen again, and getting his influence out of my head is the first step I can take to securing that goal."

The witch's eyes widened as Harry met her gaze, "If I die during this merging process, that just means that this was as far as I was meant to go. All I know is that if I die before trying everything I could to even out the playing field between him and me, I'll never be able to face my father and mother on the other side."

The witch's crooked smile grew at his words as a joyous cackle left her lips. "You certainly are fascinating, student of Moody. I pegged you as a Merlin type, trying to get stronger to selflessly protect the realm. Truthfully, helping those hero types makes me sick to my stomach. But selfish revenge," The witch's eyes glimmered with joy, "That's a motive I can get behind." Harry glanced up at the wish who called out, "Harry Potter was it?" Harry nodded softly, "You've piqued my interest. I will indeed train you to overcome your foreign core, the training will be intense, and you may die, but seeing as that doesn't seem to be an issue for you, I greatly look forward to the experience. It's been a while since I've had my own little crow."

Harry swallowed as Morgana grinned, "Follow me, boy, it is time to appropriately treat your wounds, I will not have a student of mine dying from something as pathetic as blood loss." Harry growled, pulling himself from the ground. His arm covered his freshly scarred abdomen as he stumbled behind the levitating witch, Moody in tow.

It had felt as if Harry had been walking for miles, constantly heading lower and lower into the gloomy castle, the purple fires igniting at every torch Morgana passed. "Hurry it up, boy" Morgana called out, lifting her hand, blowing a door open. His throat had become tight as he gazed upon the view he'd been led to. It looked almost like a pool, yet the water was a murky green rather than a pristine clear or vibrant blue. Acidic bubbles looked as if they were forming along the liquid's surface, and the pool itself reeked with death.

"What is this place?" Harry whispered.

"Her healing chamber," Moody replied for the ghost, "Essentially a pool of ancient elixirs said to be able to treat all physical wounds."

"How do you know that?" Harry whispered, "How do you know any of this?"

"I've been in there before," Moody's face tightened, "During my younger years." Harry turned to face the Auror, but Moody quickly brushed him off, "A story for another time. Point is, this bath here should heal your wounds but don't get too excited, the process… let's just say it stings."

Harry shivered slightly at the thought, for Moody to call anything even remotely painful had made his heart drop to his stomach, his eyes set upon the green waters. "Well, boy," Morgana spoke, "Your mentor vouched for the waters before you, did he not? Go and get yourself cleaned up, I don't like having my time wasted."

Harry sneered, the look on his face possibly even putting Snape's to shame as he began to take off his robes, his bandaged body exposed to the two magical beings, only his boxers remained to protect his modesty. He turned facing Moody once more before turning back to the bubbling water. Each step had felt as if gravity had been pushing down on him with one hundred times the normal pressure. Carefully, he dipped his foot into the water, and instantly, he'd felt as if his body had been lit ablaze. He bit his lip desperate not to let out a scream as he dropped his other foot into the water.

I can't show weakness, Harry chanted in his mind, I need her help, and she only helps those she respects. Harry's body submerged even further, his body screaming for him to leave, but he didn't, instead, against all reason, Harry walked further into the pool, involuntary groans of pain now escaping his lips. Harry's eyes had grown wide as his body trembled with pain, though as he shifted, he saw that Morgana stood just at the rim of the pool her finger-pointing downward.

You've got to be kidding me, Harry thought to himself, but the look of impatience growing on the Dark Witch's face made Harry certain that she wasn't joking. Harry tilted his head upwards, taking a long and shaky breath, before with a silent prayer to any god that would listen, he threw his head below the murky surface. Harry had felt like his body had been dunked into a pot of boiling oil as he screamed, unable to move beneath the bubbling green water. Though, as his eyes opened, he watched as the scars that lined his body began to grow pale, no longer leaking with red blood but rather being a lighter variant of his own skin tone.

He placed his hand to his rib, he was certain Moody had bruised it during their training, and yet, the bone felt as if it had been reset and treated. Harry had continued watching as his scars sealed one after the other, before finally, he had to come up for air. His eyes met Morgana's, the witch watching him questionably as she snapped, conjuring a rope for him to grab. Harry did so, pulling himself from the boiling waters, his body pulsing. Morgana stood above him, glancing down at his forehead, "Fascinating," She whispered, "The waters should have forced your scars to shut, yet this one," The ghost said rubbing her finger over the jagged lightning bolt, "This one remains open."

"This scar was given to you the day this Voldemort attacked you," Morgana spoke, "Am I correct?" Harry nodded confirming the ghost's suspicion, "Ah I see, so this scar is the epicenter of the foreign magic in your body." The witch lifted her index finger, a purple flame encompassing her fingernails, "I will be testing a theory of mine, prepare yourself."

"Prepare myself for-," Harry hadn't even a moment to finish the sentence before the witch placed her burning finger into his scar. Instantly, Harry roared with agony, his eyes rolling back into his head as the witch's finger turned within his scar, before suddenly, out of nowhere, a black aura began to form around Harry's body. "Stop!" A mangled voice called out from Harry's throat, a voice he hadn't recognized, "Stop!"

The witch pulled her finger out, as Harry fell to the ground panting, "Excellent." Harry heard Morgana distantly whisper, his body writhing in pain, "Moody, bring the boy to one of the servants' chambers. His training will resume when he awakes. After that, come find me, we have much catching up to do