"Sister Morgan?"
Jennifer did not understand why Dana suddenly mentioned Sister Morgan, but she still answered honestly.
"Sister Morgan has always been at the Fawkes Convent. Her origins are… mysterious. Some say she has connections with the Pope himself. She forges the witch hunters' weapons for the Church and trains the Hunter Knight Order. Of course, she also has her own influence within the Church. She gathers the most talented young wizards captured from various places, trains them, and then they become nuns under her jurisdiction."
Dana nodded slowly.
"So you were one of the young witches personally trained by Sister Morgan."
"Yes," Jennifer replied, her eyes lowering slightly.
At that moment, Dana was almost certain: Sister Morgan was Morgan.
The so-called nuns she trained were, in truth, members of the Avar Coven—witches reborn beneath the Church's holy façade, even though most of them did not realize it themselves.
When Dana had first met Gryffindor and Slytherin, they had already warned him that the Church was secretly capturing young wizards.
Now, it seemed clear. The one orchestrating it all was Morgan. But why?
What could she possibly be planning by training so many young wizards under the Church's nose?
And just moments ago, the Bishop had mentioned helping Sister Morgan find "that hidden family."
There was no doubt—Morgan was still searching for the Emrys Family, and that could mean only one thing.
She was still pursuing immortality.
"Jennifer," Dana asked quietly, "you said learning magic under her was painful. Do you… hate Sister Morgan?"
Jennifer's face twisted. "Hate her! She's a demon—an absolute demon!"
Dana nodded, his expression calm, his eyes cold as steel.
"Very well, then. Take me to Sister Morgan. I will kill her."
Jennifer froze, confused. "Why? Why do you want to kill her?"
"Because," Dana said, his tone as flat as death, "I have a grudge against her. She is one of the culprits who destroyed my family."
Jennifer hesitated. "She's very powerful."
"I am also very powerful."
The conviction in his voice left no room for argument. Jennifer bit her lip, thought for a moment, and finally nodded.
"Alright. I'll cooperate with you. But, Mr. Emrys… I still don't know your name."
"Merlin Emrys."
"Ah?" she gasped softly.
Glastonbury Abbey
Miss Greengrass had just finished her daily performance and returned to her underground residence beneath the abbey.
Sister Morgan's "darlings" did not live in the warm, bright rooms of the priests.
Their quarters were cold and dim, carved from stone, filled with silence.
She had barely sat down when the door opened with a creak.
An elderly nun stood there—expressionless, mechanical.
"Jennifer Greengrass," the old nun intoned, her voice flat, emotionless, as if spoken by a puppet.
"Sister Morgan wants to see you. Follow me."
Jennifer rose, straightened her robes, and followed silently.
They moved through a narrow stone corridor, the echo of their footsteps reverberating through the tomb-like air.
They passed a row of ancient stone coffins and reached a hidden passage beneath a trapdoor.
The passage sloped downward, narrow and suffocating.
The walls seemed to press in, damp with age. Jennifer even thought the old nun's slightly stout frame might get stuck between them.
The faint sound of flowing water echoed somewhere ahead.
After the final turn, the passage opened into an underground courtyard, dimly lit by glowing crystals embedded in the ceiling. Their light shimmered blue like the depths of the sea.
Under a stone gazebo stood a figure wrapped entirely in bandages—a "nun" who resembled a mummy more than a woman.
"Sister Morgan," the old nun said tonelessly, bowing her head. "I've brought the person."
The bandaged figure nodded slowly. "Sister Walton, you may withdraw."
The old nun turned and left, leaving Jennifer alone with Morgan.
"You're later than expected, my dear Jennifer," Morgan said with a dry, rasping chuckle. Her voice was hoarse and distorted, like the dying wheeze of a broken bellows—worse even than Voldemort's icy hiss.
"But you've brought me quite the surprise, haven't you? My dear teacher… Merlin?"
A surge of blue light burst from Jennifer's chest, and Dana stepped forth, releasing his possession.
He flicked a golden coin toward Jennifer. "Take this."
Then he turned to Morgan, sneering. With a single stomp of his left foot, he shattered the spatial blockade surrounding the courtyard.
In an instant, Jennifer vanished, whisked away through the teleportation Dana had prepared earlier.
Morgan tilted her head slightly.
"Oh, no. You're not him. So very similar… but not the same," she croaked.
"A genius of the Emrys family? The one who solved my teacher's riddle and inherited his magic and legacy?"
Her expression was hidden beneath the bandages, but her tone dripped with venomous amusement.
"No, no… you don't belong to this era, do you? You were summoned from the future by that old man, weren't you?"
Dana didn't answer. He had no patience for her riddles. With a flick of his hand, he sealed the surrounding space once more, trapping them both. Then he raised his wand, unleashing a devastating Avada Kedavra.
The curse shot forth—but struck an invisible barrier and dispersed harmlessly.
A shimmering web of ancient symbols flared briefly in the air.
Dana frowned. He recognized it instantly—a defensive magic array used by his ancestor, Merlin himself.
"Don't be so hasty, young man," Morgan said with a chilling smile. "You are, after all, my teacher's descendant. There's no need for hostility. We could… talk."
"I know who you are," Dana said coldly. "And given that, I see no reason to talk. You just need to hand over your soul."
As he spoke, he slammed his right foot into the ground. Runes of violet flame spread rapidly beneath his feet, crawling across the courtyard like a living serpent. The air trembled as his magic surged, hammering against the defensive array.
Morgan sighed softly. "What a pity. I was looking forward to getting closer to you… perhaps even having a child with you."
Dana's expression remained stone. The runes brightened; the barrier began to crack.
Morgan continued in a voice laced with mock sorrow.
"You were sent here by the old immortal, torn from your own time. It must be lonely, mustn't it? Are you homesick? Don't worry—I'll send you back."
Dana's brows knit tightly. He accelerated his assault on the barrier, pouring his power into the earth until the stones quivered.
But Morgan had already begun to chant. Her voice was a whisper of fate.
"Tempus sine vestigio, fatum est inordinatum…"
Time without trace, fate disordered…
Dana's eyes widened. Divination!
A forbidden art that could only be awakened by the Cambion bloodline.
His magic far surpassed hers, but he knew at once the danger. Morgan didn't need to overpower him—she only needed to tamper with one thing: his presence in this timeline.
Dana did not belong to this era. Merlin's spell had anchored him here, but it was fragile.
If Morgan's Divination rewound his fate to its rightful place, that anchor would snap—and he would be erased from this time.
He couldn't let her succeed.
With a roar, Dana unleashed everything. Magic surged through the runes like lightning. The ground cracked.
Two seconds later—
Pop!
The defensive array shattered.
He thrust both hands forward. Ten spells burst out simultaneously—fire, lightning, shadow, force—all crashing toward Morgan.
A colossal shield materialized before her, catching the barrage. Though the spells tore and ripped at it, the barrier held long enough for her to continue chanting.
"How impressive," Morgan said through the smoke, her voice tinged with admiration. "This level of magic is nearly identical to my teacher's."
From the haze, she emerged transformed. Two blood-red wings—fleshy, pulsing—unfurled from her back. They wrapped around her body like a demon's cloak, oozing faint light.
Spreading those wings, she smiled with sinister delight.
"Divination has been activated. Mr. Emrys, it's time for you to go home."
Dana didn't hesitate. He launched another wave of magic—but his spells passed through her body like smoke, dissolving into the rock walls beyond.
Morgan laughed softly. "It's useless, Emrys. You and I are no longer in the same space-time."
The crystals above flickered, the air rippling with distortion.
"In a moment," she whispered, "you'll return to where you belong."
Her tone softened, almost fond. "You didn't expect me to use Divination, did you? Fusing with a demon's bloodline isn't easy. Demons are rare in this world—rarer than phoenix feathers."
She stepped closer, her translucent form glowing faintly as she looked upon Dana's face.
"You, child, have caused me no end of trouble. I abandoned a base I'd nurtured for centuries because of you. And now, I've used Divination—a spell that will weaken me for years. What a waste… all because of you."
Her eyes glimmered beneath the wrappings. "Oh, and Jennifer Greengrass… such a genius. Such a perfect vessel. I truly regret using her as bait to lure you here."
She sighed with mock tenderness. "I never expected you to be so adept at charming people. Ah, but of course—you're a descendant of the old immortal, and you carry succubus blood in your veins. No wonder."
Dana's jaw tightened, magic swirling around him in waves of fury. But his body had already begun to blur.
The Divination was taking hold.
"Go home with peace of mind, child," Morgan murmured. "Ah, but Jennifer betrayed me. I can't let her off so easily…"
She tapped her chin playfully. "Hmm… what should I do with her? I'll think about it slowly."
Then, she looked up abruptly. Her voice rang clear and sharp.
"Oh dear, your time is up—and I still haven't decided how to punish Greengrass. Never mind. If she's still with you when next we meet… you'll see."
Dana didn't hear the rest.
Morgan's voice faded into the collapsing air. The world around him twisted, colors spiraling into darkness.
She was gone—only the whirl of the time passage remained before him, the same as when he had first arrived in this era.
And as the vortex consumed him, his last sight was that flickering blue light beneath the gazebo…
the mocking glow of Morgan's Divination, fading slowly into silence.
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