The Untold Tragedy Of Morana Black

Chapter Four

Chapter Four: The Doorstep To Hell

November 1st, 1981

Privet Drive was a street of immaculate lawns and middle-class homes. The peaceful street was dark with shadows as the night seized the sky with only the towering street lamps to guide the way.

On the low brick wall of Number Four, a tabby cat waited. It was sitting as still as a statue - eyes fixed on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't flinch when a car door slammed shut in the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead.

It wasn't long before a man appeared on the corner of the street, so suddenly it was like he had appeared out of nowhere. He was tall and slim, with long grey hair and a matching beard long enough to reach the belt at his waist. His bright blue eyes sparkled behind half-moon spectacles, sweeping the street.

His name was Albus Dumbledore.

Thunderous cheers boomed around the room, the loudest coming from the Gryffindors. Dumbledore smiled contently, savoring the support many showed him, deciding to ignore those who rolled their eyes or scoffed at the reaction.

Morana and her family shared an exasperated look, not feeling the same enthusiasm as everyone else in the Great Hall. No one in Morana's family liked Dumbledore for numerous reasons that varied from person to person, but it was clear that Morana and the two Dark Lords hated the old fool the most, if the murderous glints in their eyes were any indication.

Dumbledore rummaged around in his purple cloak, looking for something. He paused, sensing eyes on him, and glanced toward the cat on the wall. He chuckled in amusement. "I should have known," he muttered.

He found what he was looking for, pulling out a device resembling a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open and clicked it, causing the closest street lamp to go out. He continued to click until only the cat's eyes were visible in the darkness. Dumbledore returned the Put-Outer to his cloak.

"Can-"

"No, Mr. Black," interrupted Professor McGonagall, knowing the mischievous man would ask for one. She dreaded to think what pranks the remaining Marauders would pull if they had such a device in their possession - she may even retire early to escape the chaos.

"Oh, come on!" Sirius whined.

He moved towards the low wall of Number Four, where he sat beside the cat in silence for a long moment. "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall," he said to the cat, a smile appearing on his thin lips.

When he turned to the cat, a strict-looking woman stared back at him. She had square glasses the shape of the markings around the cat's eyes. Like Dumbledore, she wore a cloak, an emerald one; her black hair pulled back into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"MINNIE!" James cheered loudly, sending the Transfiguration Professor an overdramatic wink. A few chuckles rippled across the crowds as McGonagall sighed in exhaustion. Some pitied the poor woman, who had put up with the Marauders for many years. 

"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said sharply. "You are not to address me so informally. It's Professor McGonagall to you." 'And always will be after everything you've done to poor Morana,' she added in her mind. She'd never forgive anyone who hurt Morana - she might even kill them herself if Tom didn't get off his arse soon.