Storm Clouds

Vision Quest

**~**~**~**~**~**

The final weeks of the term passed more or less normally. Nothing more was said about the Order of the Phoenix, although Harry was bursting with curiosity. He very much wanted to know exactly what Morgan had meant when she said Snape would never betray her, but he kept it to himself.

Ginny was equally quiet on the subject. Whether it was Morgan's scolding or the increasingly likely possibility that she was the next Guardian Harry didn't have a clue, as she was avoiding him as effectively as she was everyone else. Her brothers, who normally would have been pestering her, ducked out of sight whenever she passed, obviously hoping to avoid a repeat of the most recent hexing incident.

With one week left before the start of holidays the staff was actively encouraging all of the students to return home. The beautiful decorations, which Harry had grown to love over the years, where missing. It seemed that no one really felt like celebrating.

Mrs. Weasley was trying, of course. Letters had arrived for both Harry and Hermione, inviting them (and Hermione's parents) to The Burrow for Christmas. Harry could tell by her words that Mrs. Weasley was going to make every effort to have a "normal" holiday, and that angered him for some reason. How could anything be normal when his life was upside-down? When he suddenly had a wizard relative he had never known before and was expected to give some of his power to a greater cause?

But, of course, Mrs. Weasley knew none of that. It wasn't her fault, and in his more rational moments Harry acknowledged the truth in that. No one knew the entire truth except for Ginny, and he could hardly discuss his feelings with her when she was in hiding.

He couldn't even really explain why he was keeping so quiet. Normally he would have told Ron and Hermione everything, but he was reluctant to do so in this case. They have more then enough to deal with as new prefects, he told himself. Not to mention their new relationship.

At least that was his public justification. Being honest with himself (if with no one else) Harry had to admit that he was beginning to feel like something of an extra arm or leg, and about as useful. A trio suddenly turned into a duo meant change, he had no problem acknowledging that, but just what he was supposed to change into was escaping him for the moment.

All things considered, though, he was having more fun then ever before at school. Fred and George took him in as a sort of co-conspirator, and he enjoyed being a party to some of their best pranks. Even the one that landed the three of them in detention scrubbing out old, rusty cauldrons was worth it. Snape's webbed hands didn't go away for almost a week. It wasn't until the last History of Magic lesson before the end of term that his newly re-discovered spirit received its first check.

"Mister Potter, please remain for a moment after class," Morgan said, not looking up from the papers on her desk. "I require a word with you."

Ron immediately paused in gathering up his books and parchment while Hermione shot Harry a questioning look. He simply shook his head and waved them from the room. "Go on," he said. "I'll see you at dinner." When Hermione still hesitated he spoke again. "I'm fine. Honest. Just go."

Ron took Hermione by the hand and all but pulled her from the classroom. It seemed that far from being oblivious that his two best friends had indeed noticed his preoccupation. Harry silently thanked them for not pushing any of the issues.

"They're good friends, aren't they?" Morgan asked.

Harry nodded. "The best I could ever have." He moved to the front of the room and slid into an empty chair in front of Morgan's desk. "I feel bad about keeping secrets from them."

"Well, don't feel too bad. Its for their own good," Morgan replied. "For a little while longer, at least. Once things are settled you'll be able to protect the people that are close to you."

"What about Ginny?" Harry blurted out.

Morgan smiled slightly. "I didn't realize you counted her as 'close to you'." Harry blushed but didn't respond. "Don't worry, Harry. If Ginny is meant to be the next Guardian she'll be well able to protect herself. Which brings me to why I needed to speak to you."

Harry waited patiently, not speaking. Something in Morgan's manner told him that they were at a threshold, of sorts. In their personal relationship, because he felt that she was trusting him a great deal, but also one that was connected to the Order of the Phoenix. That was certainly a fact that he dreaded.

"Its time for the girls to undergo their first test as the Guardian."

Why did I have to be right?, Harry asked himself.

**~**~**~**~**~**

Two evenings later Harry entered a special classroom just after dinner, with Ginny at his heels. It had been completely transformed; in fact is resembled a dormitory more than a classroom. There were four large beds centrally located and two comfortable wing chairs flanking the fireplace. Ginny paused in the doorway, her nervousness visible in her pale cheeks and the gnawing on her lower lip.

"Its alright, you two. Please, come in."

Until she spoke Harry had not even been aware of Morgan's presence. As was her habit she was dressed in deep burgundy robes, and their colour blended into the cherry wood walls behind her. She took a step forward and the firelight glimmered on the lenses of her glasses.

"Sit," she instructed. "The others will be here shortly."

Harry and Ginny sank onto the down comforter on one of the beds. It was a blazing scarlet in colour, and that was when Harry noticed that the other beds were similarly dressed for the other houses; green for Slytherin, blue for Ravenclaw and yellow for Hufflepuff.

Morgan, meanwhile, grinned as the pair sat beside each other. They had grown much more comfortable with each other since that evening in Professor Dumbledore's office. Part of it was no doubt a reaction to Ron and Hermione's new closeness, but some of it came from within; a bond created by the Order of the Phoenix. In this, at least, they were natural allies.

A soft knock on the door heralded the new arrivals. Pansy was first; she entered the room with her head held high but with unsteady steps. When Harry looked closer he saw that her hands were shaking slightly. She saw his glance and immediately clasped them together behind her back to still the movement. Her only other acknowledgement of Harry's presence was a shrug and an ironic grin.

Mandy and Eleanor came in just a moment later, the younger girl making every effort to hide behind her companion. Mandy kept a reassuring hand on the girl's arm as she led the pair of them into the room. She quickly noticed the covers on the four beds, and without hesitation deposited Eleanor on Hufflepuuf, then turned and sat herself on Ravenclaw.

"Well done, Amanda," Morgan commented. "Observant and quick to comprehend."

"Just like a Ravenclaw," was Mandy's wry response.

"Unfortunately its also a prized quality in a Guardian of the Phoenix. Unfortunate if you don't want the job, that is." Morgan turned to Pansy and waved towards the last, unoccupied bed. "Sit, Miss Parkinson. It may take some time to explain why we're here tonight."

Once Pansy was seated Morgan pulled out her wand. With a wave a simmering cauldron appeared on the desk, along with four glasses. Another flick of her wand and four streams of purple liquid rose up and out of the cauldron, flowing into the glasses. The potion continued to emit puffs of orange-ish steam. The four girls eyed the glasses with expression ranging from curiosity (Mandy) to outright terror (Eleanor). Morgan smiled in understanding.

"I felt the same way," was her only comment.

"Professor. . . ." Pansy began, staring at the full glasses with wide eyes. "What is it?"

"A variation of the Dreamless Sleep Potion. One that is intended to cause just the opposite effect, especially when drunk by a potential Guardian." Morgan paused briefly, then cut right to the heart of the matter. "The four of you are about to embark on a vision quest."

"A what?!?!?!" four voices exclaimed in unison.

"An ancient ritual created by the Native American Wizards of Canada and the United States. It's a way of directing the dream process toward a specific goal."

"Vision quest. . . ." Ginny mused. "Does that mean we'll catch glimpses of the future?"

"Not exactly," Morgan replied. She seemed to be groping for words. "Its difficult to explain. As I said, it's a ritual that can aim the dream process at something specific. In this case it should provide us with more clues as to which of you is the next Guardian. Of course, in the hands of a skilled reader of auspices, the vision quest can predict future events."

"And its not dangerous?" Pansy asked, her voice quivering with nervousness.

"No, its not." All four girls breathed barely audible sighs of relief. "I'm not saying that all of your 'visions' will be pleasant, but you can't be hurt. And I'll be here the entire time." Morgan stood up and with a wave of her wand conjured four objects out of thin air; objects which magically affixed themselves to the wall above all four beds. They were circular, about a foot in diameter, and had long tails with feathers and ribbons. Inside each circle was a sort of spider web, with one hole located at random. Harry and the four girls looked quizzically at their professor.

"Dream catchers. With a kick," she explained. "The Native American dream catcher is meant to trap all bad dreams and nightmares, and only allow the good, pleasant dreams in. These are modified slightly to make the quest easier on everyone. Each one was designed specifically for one of you four." Morgan paused for a moment to allow everything to sink in. "Well, Mister Potter and I shall leave you to get ready. Ten minutes, ladies." And with that she left the room. After a reassuring squeeze of Ginny's hand Harry followed her into the hall. The door closed behind him with a sharp click.

"So. . . .," Morgan began.

"Professor, what am I doing here?" Harry asked, not caring about interrupting her. "I mean, its pretty obvious that I am not the next Guardian, so why do you need me?"

"You need to know," she answered simply. "And stop calling me that!"

"Calling you what?"

"Professor. It makes me feel like I'm one hundred years old."

"Well, Auntie Morgan seems a bit much, considering I only learned of your existence two months ago."

Morgan grinned. "Point taken. Drop the 'Auntie' and just call me Morgan, please. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," Harry agreed. "But you still haven't fully answered my question."

"Noticed that, did you?" Morgan asked, her tone wry. "Well, I had hoped to put this off a bit, but now is as good a time as any." She took a deep breath. "I wanted you here tonight so you could see what a vision quest is like, because you'll be going through one as well."

"Now?!?!" Harry couldn't help the strangled tone of his voice. She had taken him completely by surprise.

"No, not now, but at some point in the near future. I need to determine if you are, in fact, an ideal candidate to join the Order."

"You said I was needed to reunite the blood of Godric Gryffindor to the Order's power! And now you're saying I may not be?"

"Could you keep your voice down, please?" Morgan admonished him. "There's a chance it may not be you, OK? It's a question of timing. It may be someone from a future generation; your son or mine. You need to go through the vision quest for me to be certain, that's all."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment he had thought it would be some important test of his powers, similar to what the girls were about to endure. He still wasn't happy about it, but he could deal with it.

"Now," Morgan began. "If you have no other questions we need to get back in there and start this."

Harry shook his head and mutely followed Morgan into the room.

**~**~**~**~**~**

It was almost two hours later before either of them spoke again. Morgan was sitting in one of the wing chairs, her personal copy of Hogwarts, A History open on her lap. The sound of pages turning was the only sign that she remained awake. Harry sat at a table in one corner, underneath a torch bracket, thumbing through Quidditch Through The Ages and devising a game plan for Gryffindor's next match.

The soft noises each of the four girls made while sleeping had hardly disturbed anyone, although Harry had been amused to learn that Pansy snored, occasionally quite loudly. Ginny proved to be a tosser, turner, and a kicker; it was less then ten minutes after she fell asleep that her blanket had hit the floor. Her long hair was disheveled from her almost constant movement; it flamed red against the plain white linen. He was staring at it entirely too much, he told himself, yet he couldn't stop. Best to think of something else, Harry.

It was only then, when he pulled his mind away from contemplating Ginny, that he noticed the silence coming from Morgan's corner. He watched her as secretly as he could. She wasn't asleep, but she had stopped reading. She seemed to be staring into the dying fire; its light was reflected off her glasses. It gave her an odd appearance, almost as if she didn't have eyes. This is as good a time as any to ask her about Snape, Harry thought.

"Profes. . . I mean, Morgan?"

She started out of her almost trance, turning to face him. She studied him in silence, and just when he was getting thoroughly uncomfortable under her gaze she finally spoke. "I think I know what you want to ask me," she said. "Come and sit over here by the fire. You'll be more comfortable and we won't disturb the girls." She gestured to the fire and immediately the flames leapt back to life. Harry couldn't help shooting her a look.

Morgan smiled. "I confess, I do like to show off now and again. I suppose it's the Welsh in me." She didn't say anything else, leaving it up to Harry to broach the subject.

"I'm sorry, and if its really none of my business just tell me. It won't stop me from being curious, but I won't ask again, I promise." The words came out in a great rush, causing Morgan to smile slightly.

"You want to know about Professor Snape and I."

Harry coughed and looked slightly sheepish. "More or less. . . ." His voice trailed off.

Morgan laughed. "I think more rather than less, Harry." She sighed as Harry sat in the chair opposite. "This isn't going to be easy, either for me to tell or for you to accept. I long ago promised myself, however, that I wouldn't lie when directly asked. So now you've got me just where you want me. Only question left is where to begin."

"Are you in love with him?" Harry blurted.

Morgan looked genuinely shocked. "WHAT?!?! Is that what you think this is about?" Harry didn't exactly nod in response, but he didn't shake his head either. Morgan laughed. "I forgot. You're fifteen years old and think everything between boys and girls and men and women comes down to being in love."

Harry bristled at her condescending tone. "I may be only fifteen, but I know a few things about that. You don't have to speak of me as if I were a blundering idiot."

Morgan quickly stopped laughing. "Oh, Harry! I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I meant that it's a shame that we lose that innocence and certainty when we grow older, that's all. It would be nice if it was always about being in love or not. It'd be much simpler, at least." She shook her head. "No, there are other bonds that can exist. Debts of friendship." She glanced at her nephew and saw the look of confusion on his face. "All right, to the beginning, then."

"My first year at Hogwarts was something of a nightmare, Harry. I already knew about who I was and what I was destined to become. I had a tremendous amount of difficulty controlling my power at times; I would go way overboard on the toughest spells and bungle my way through the easiest ones. I was also utterly hopeless at Potions." Morgan paused there as she stared into the fire, lost in a memory. Harry held his breath, not wanting to disturb her train of thought.

"The Potions Master at the time was a bit more understanding and forgiving then Professor Snape. He took me aside and arranged for me to be tutored by the best potion maker amongst the students.

"Snape," Harry whispered.

Morgan nodded. "Even then he was a genius at it. For all his interest in the Dark Arts, then as now, Severus has always been a brilliant brewer. He hates it, though. Always has. His father was a very powerful wizard who scorned potion making as a 'woman's art'. It wasn't easy for him to deal with his only son being so good at something he detested, so he spent quite a bit of time trying to beat it out of him."

Harry's jaw dropped in surprise. "Snape's father. . ." He swallowed hard. "Beat him? Physically?"

Morgan snorted. "Physically, mentally, emotionally. Any way he could think of. The Snapes are a very ancient, pure-blooded family, and Sev's father never let him forget it. He grew up believing that no matter what he did he was going to fail the family. By the time I met him when he was sixteen he was already bitter and cynical beyond belief."

"But he agreed to tutor you, didn't he? He can't have been all bad."

"He enjoyed the opportunity to have a Gryffindor in his debt, I think. That and lording it over a first year student, of course. And despite being ashamed of a skill his father scorned he did like to show off." Morgan grinned. "It didn't last long, however. He made me extremely angry during one session, so I, ummm, used my wandless magic to transfigure his puffpod seeds into venomous tentacula seeds, and. . ."

Harry grinned. He could well imagine what the result of such a potion would be. "So, did his tentacles sprout from his head or his backside?" he asked, struggling to contain his laughter.

"They grew from his shoulders, and were nearly four feet long before he figured out how to stop it. But that's not the point. I don't know what it was - maybe having been bested by a first year Gryffindor - but after that incident he was a hell of a lot nicer to me. And he helped me so much. I never would have made it through first year potions without his help.

"You became friends," Harry said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes, we did. Just friends. I suppose its possible that he had a thing for me, but it never went anywhere. And we stayed in touch after he graduated." Morgan paused and an uncertain look crossed her face. She glanced at Harry from the corner of her eye, unnerved to find his rapt attention focused on her. She took a deep breath and plunged in. "Harry, what I have to say next is probably the ugliest chapter in my reletively short life, but you need to know the whole truth." She paused again before the words spilled out. "I almost became a Death Eater."

It felt like his stomach had turned to lead. For a moment all Harry could do was blink; the shock of her words was that intense. His brain simply refused to process it. "A. . . A. . ." He couldn't say it. His tongue refused to cooperate.

"A Death Eater, Harry." Morgan pushed a hand through her hair and sighed. "I told you it was ugly. You have to understand that there were so many things in my life that I was fighting against at the time. I was rebelling against being the Guardian, I was angry with my grandparents for pushing me in a direction I didn't want to go in, I was enraged with James for. . . Well, you name it and I was mad at him for it." She sighed again. "Severus wasn't stupid; he could tell that I was angry and dissatisfied with a lot of things. He played on that, convincing me that it was all because I wasn't receiving my due as a pure-blooded wizard, and God help me, at nineteen I was just dumb enough to believe it. I fell neatly into the trap."

In the pause that followed Harry found his eyes irresistably drawn to Morgan's left forearm, where he knew the Dark Mark would be. She noticed, and pulled up her sleeve to expose an unmarred expanse of skin. "How?" Harry asked.

"It didn't take. The power of the Order prevented it."

"B. . . But. . . You're alive!"

"Don't sound so upset, Harry," Morgan said, her familiar grin returning. "Yes, I'm alive. Severus saved me. Voldemort was angry beyond belief; I think he desperately wanted a Griffith in his ranks. Sev convinced him that my heart simpy wasn't in it yet. Claimed he'd straighten me out and that I'd return. Two years later everything fell to pieces, and I finally came to terms with being the Guardian of the Phoenix. That doesn't cancel out my debt, however."

"A life debt," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's your bond with Snape. And if he ever did anything to betray your trust the debt would be cancelled. That's it, isn't it?" When Morgan nodded he went on. "So you're depending on his self-interest in all of this? We're expected to count on Snape's selfish desire to keep you in his debt to protect Ginny? And the others?"

"Is that what you really believe, Harry? I expected you to have a better understanding of the process, since you're one half of a life debt yourself." Morgan's voice was angry and her eyes flashed with a sapphire flame. "You know that my intentions are just as important to all of this."

Harry was just as angry as his aunt, and responded in kind. "The life debt between Ginny and me is none. . ."

An ear-splitting scream rent the air, and both Harry and Morgan froze. Pansy, Mandy and Eleanor all jerked awake; the sudden release from sleep leaving them scared and confused. Morgan moved to soothe the three girls and bring them back to full awareness. She was two steps from Eleanor's bed when the scream sounded again. She spun around.

"Ginny. . ." she breathed.

Harry reached her a split-second before Morgan. Ginny was thrashing about on the bed, apparently in the grip of a powerful nightmare. Soft sounds of distress escaped her lips as she tossed and turned. One arm thrashed out, hitting Harry in the face and knocking his glasses askew. He grabbed the arm that had hit him and pushed it back to the pillows, heedless of any pain he might cause. Morgan held Ginny by the shoulders and was shaking her hard enough that her teeth clicked together, but she didn't wake. She started to calm down, however, and Morgan released her grip on Ginny's shoulders.

Just in time, it turned out. Ginny screamed again and then jack-knifed into a sitting position. Harry's hold on her arm was still tight, but she threw him off with tremendous strength, so much that he was launched halfway across the room. He scrambled to his knees as fast as he could to see what was going on.

Ginny sat bolt upright on the bed, her eyes wide and her expression a mask of unrelieved terror. Harry opened his mouth to say something to her, but Morgan grabbed his wrist. She shook her head emphatically before helping him to his feet. She approached the bed, Ginny's eyes following her the entire way. It was the only sign of life she exhibited.

Morgan had reached Ginny's side. "Ginny?" she whispered, sounding oddly tentative.

Ginny blinked twice, her eyes riveted on Morgan's. She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead the cry of a phoenix echoed through the room. When it died Ginny slumped back onto the bed, her eyes wide and staring.