Harry Potter and the Sorceress of the Stars

"So— Mai, was it?" said Daphne offhandedly, as she carefully sliced herself a piece of roast goose. "Seeing as every time I try to ask my sister about that summer, she changes the subject or tries to muddy the waters, why don't you tell me about how you met Oleandra?"

"Can we not do this right now?" said Oleandra miserably. "Everyone's looking at us…"

Over the course of the Great Feast, students of all ages and Houses had come to visit them at the Slytherin table— despite the murderous aura emitted by Malfoy and his entourage— to ask Oleandra and Daphne what it had been like to duel Voldemort. They would have gladly interrogated the Chosen One as well, but for some reason, Harry had never shown up to the feast.

"Then, we'll use the Faraway Communication Galdr," Daphne countered. "I'll let you do the honours, since Mai's your friend."

Daphne crossed her arms in front of her and stared at Oleandra with an expectant look on her face. Realising that there was no escaping this reckoning, Oleandra brushed her fingers against the invisible runes tattooed under her ear.

"Ansuz, Wunjo," Oleandra chanted half-heartedly. "Let a channel be opened between us."

Under normal circumstances, Oleandra's and Daphne's minds were protected by the runic barrier etched into their souls. No ordinary spell could breach this defence, whether it was to read their thoughts and memories, control their minds, or otherwise compromise their souls' integrity.

Essentially, the Faraway Communication spell temporarily opened a hole in this protection, allowing their minds to escape their skulls' confines.

"A Saxon spell, eh?" Mai sniggered derisively. "That's pretty ironic."

Oleandra shot a worried look in Mai's direction, debating the wisdom of allowing a Fae of unknown power into her and her sister's minds. The last time she'd seen Mai, the girl had seemed more like her age— mature beyond her years, yes, but also full of childlike curiosity. But now, her eyes seemed colder, and her tongue was much sharper, leading Oleandra to wonder whether she was talking to eleven-year-old Mai Dulac, or the immortal Witch Morgan le Fay…

"Ironic?" asked Daphne, pouring some gravy over her food. "How do you mean?"

During Morgana's lifetime, despite her antagonistic attitude towards her half-brother Arthur Pendragon and his Round Table Knights, she had often helped Camelot repel the invading Angles and Saxons. Despite loathing each other, a one-night stand between the two had led to the birth of Mordred (making him Arthur's son and nephew at the same time).

In Morgan's twisted mind, the perfect revenge against Arthur for destroying her human family was to bear him a son, only to have that son rebel against him. Her plan had been for Mordred— and not any of her other sons, born of her union with the King of Orkney— to rebel and take Arthur's place as High King of Logres.

(As a reminder, Morgan's grudge against Arthur was completely unjustified. Arthur had never asked to be born, never asked for his father, Uther Pendragon, to beg Merlin for the Polyjuice Potion that had allowed him to rape Morgan's human mother by pretending to be her husband. That one act, that violation, had led to Arthur's birth— and shattered Morgan's once-loving family.)

However, her ambitions for the throne could never be realised if the Saxons destroyed her country, so reluctantly, Morgan had been forced to ally with Merlin and Viviane, combining her magic with theirs to fend off the Saxon raiders on several occasions. As a result, Morgan had often been on the receiving end of the Saxon Wizards' runic spells, so she wasn't especially fond of this magical discipline that originated from the stars…

"Never you mind," said Oleandra hastily, unwilling to explain all of that to her sister. "Now, relax, and open your minds to my invitation…"

Oleandra reached out a mental tendril to her sisters and began linking their minds together, but the instant Mai made contact with the network, she immediately cut the connection and recoiled away from the table as if she'd been stung.

"Mai?" Oleandra asked quizzically. "What's the matter?"

"I'm going to the toilet," said Mai abruptly, standing up from her seat. "Oleandra, would you care to show me the way?"

Oleandra opened her Mystic Eyes for a fraction of a second to ascertain Mai's intentions. Her aura was guarded, indicating that she did not mean her any harm— rather, she seemed wary of something…

Sensing the need for privacy, Oleandra escorted Mai to the second-floor girls' lavatory, and thankfully, Moaning Myrtle was nowhere in sight when they arrived— she had gone to the Great Hall for the Start-of-Term Feast with the rest of the ghosts.

"So?" Oleandra asked pointedly. "What did you want to tell me?"

Mai's face twisted into a mask of fury, and Oleandra immediately knew that the young girl had switched places with her other self.

"Are you not aware that your sister's soul has been taken over by a dark spirit, you foolish girl?" said Morgan sharply. "Who knows what would have happened to Mai, had I not immediately severed the connection!"

"That shouldn't be possible," said Oleandra, aghast. "The Magic of the Stars shields our souls from external threats."

She could count on one hand the number of times this runic protection had failed her.

"Speaking of which, did my stupid sister teach you nothing?" Morgan hissed. "I had the opportunity to take a brief look inside your head earlier, and I was astounded at what I saw— what have you done to your soul!?"

Morgan wasn't proficient enough in the runic arts to draw any conclusions from the arrangement of the runes covering Oleandra's and Daphne's souls, but her experienced Mystic Eyes had clearly perceived the pure malice imbued in the runes' magic— obviously, the protection from Legilimency and the Imperius Curse was merely a byproduct of the runic array's main purpose…

"Never mind that!" Oleandra shouted, slamming her fist against a bathroom stall. "What's wrong with my sister!?"

"I'm sorry, but your sister has been made into a Horcrux," said Morgan flatly. "At the rate its Dark magic is eroding her mind, I wouldn't give her more than a year before she's no longer your sister, and the worst part is, she would actually welcome such a release from her pain. Your sister is consumed by guilt— or haven't you noticed?"

"Wait, wait, wait," said Oleandra, holding up her hands in front of her, as if to staunch the flow of words from Morgan's mouth. "First things first— what's a Horcrux?"