Chapter 27: Powerless

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When Morgana reappeared, she was not staring at her own stone face. 

The startlingly dark shelved walls froze the blood in her veins. Below her was not the comforting familiar crunch of Northern snow, instead, the eerily familiar creek of floorboards groaned beneath her weight. 

She was not surrounded by the pine-filled smell but rather assaulted by the stench of a thousand stale potion ingredients. The dark emerald green wallpaper felt like a noose around her throat. The snake in the moving painting on the walk mocked her horror as it slithered silently in its frame.

Her breath caught in her throat as her memories of this place that had faded with the years became more vivid. Details that had faded like a distant dream returned. 

She knew this place. 

This dungeon had housed her for eleven years before she received her Hogwarts letter. She had talked to these walls, hidden in this room, lost herself in the ingredients jarred on these shelves. 

She felt cold, colder than she ever did appearing in the north. She felt empty and weak as if part of her very soul had been torn from her chest. 

Her grey eyes filled with tears as she looked at the broken pot of Pheonix ash that lay abandoned on the floor. Plates filled with food still stood stacked on the desk against the wall, forgotten for so very long. The chalk runes still decorated the floor where she had drawn them. 

Was it real? 

Was any of it real? 

Have I gone mad like so many in my line? 

She collapsed, barely catching herself on the potion's table in front of her. A few bottles were knocked over but she didn't care to look. 

"You seem troubled, Miss Slytherin... I wonder why that is?" A voice startled her enough she barked a scream. It was enough to shake her from her shocked state as she turned, wand raised to the intruder. 

"Dumbledore?" She whispered, eyes wide and crazed as she looked at the phantom before her. The long-dead headmaster stood observing the labels on different ingredients. Her wand shook in her grip still aimed at the wraith. 

"How quickly you revert to old habits. You haven't used your want in years and yet..." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes observed the wand in her hand as if it were nothing but a cheap novelty. 

"W-why? What is this? Why am I back? I-I don't understand." Morgana once again began to hyperventilate feeling the absence of the dragon bond like a stab to the heart. 

"Why should it matter? You weren't doing anything of significance there. All the power in the world... You left for the greater good, to save everyone, yet you forgot that goal some time ago... you stayed gone for your own selfish gain. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, it's in your nature." The old man's kind voice contrasted with the harsh words. 

"Of course, it mattered! I loved them! All of them! And they loved me even if only for a time! It mattered! I changed history in Westeros! I bent the unbowed! I conquered with conquerors! I made kings! It mattered!" Morgana hissed, slight parseltongue falling from her lips. 

"They could have done that on their own... You served to feed their lust and stroke their egos... I mean, if you truly thought to insight change, why not save them from destruction?" Dumbledore asked calmly. 

"The curse ripped me away before anything happened. Lord Stark already told me I do not return! Their fate is sealed there is nothing I could have done-" 

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