6.20pm, Diagon Alley.

The rickety buildings of Diagon Alley loomed over Mordecai as his shoes tapped on the cobblestones underfoot. At this time the narrow streets were full of people taking a break from work, even though it was cold. Mordecai paused in the doorway of a shop to adjust his scarf before resuming his stroll down the street. It was raining lightly; for once he had had his umbrella out. Lydia had insisted.

He was on the search for fixtures for the Improper Use of Magic Office. As Head he felt that he was obligated to at least spiffy it up a little and make the place feel more...contemporary (he disliked using the word 'modern'). Perhaps Jacob didn't mind[1], but Mord certainly did. The age of the office was starting to show. Sometimes he imagined it seeping into his bones, making him feel old.

Mordecai exhaled, his breath swirling out as a frosty mist before vanishing into the cold, wet air. He looked up at the shop names and boards, noting each one as he slowly took his time to stroll along the street. The stream of people coming from different directions gently separated around him, like the waters of a river flowing around a rock situated in the middle.

Someone bumped into him just then. Mordecai turned around briefly to give the person an apology and help her pick up a fallen parcel. When he turned back to the street before him the first thing that caught his eye was the large nine-paned window to his right. He strolled over, avoiding a couple holding hands, and gazed through the thick glass. There were a variety of Muggle items, which was odd stock for a Diagon Alley shop, but Mordecai was more interested in the fact that some of it looked like what Muggle businesses were keen on these days.

Well, he wasn't the kind of person to give up a potentially good peruse in a shop, especially if it was Muggle items. Mordecai closed his umbrella, staying close to the window to keep dry as he made his way to the door.


The bell over the door jangled. Morgana looked up from arranging her stock. Sales from Christmas had left her stock somewhat depleted; the storeroom was now in a state of disarray following the arrival of part of the spring stock she had ordered to replenish the merchandise.

She carefully pushed a few of the boxes out of her path as she picked her way through the room. Once she had got to the door, she straightened out her cashmere sweater and made sure her long necklace of beads hadn't tangled up in the process of her sorting. There was a mirror hanging on the wall behind the door; Morgana made sure her hair was still in its tight bun before stepping out.

"Hello, welcome to..." Her voice trailed away upon seeing the customer. There was only one.

For a long moment both of them stood there, staring at each other. The silence was finally broken by Morgana. "...Mord?" she said, her normally deep voice a little higher in pitch, but a little hoarser.

She saw the realisation dawn on his face. He seemed to untense a little, and she knew she was right. She could not not recognise him. It had been years, but he would always be her brother. Even now she felt the urge to run up to him and throw her arms around his neck, just like they did as children and when they were in Hogwarts.

But she hesitated. The sight of him was bringing back old memories - memories she had buried deep within her subconscious in an attempt to put them behind her. It didn't help that he looked like he was about to say something in response.

"When did you come back to England?" he asked her, after a pause that went on for slightly too long. "Last time I heard, you were heading for Germany."

"I came back ten years ago." Morgana clasped her hands together, feeling herself tremble a little. "After the Second War."

"Ministry's not after you?" He seemed to be having some difficulty accepting her presence.

"No? Why would they be?" She gave a nervous laugh. "I'm just a novelty shopkeeper who has nothing to hide."

Mordecai's eyes narrowed a little. Morgana recognised this; he was doubting her. She shrugged and said, "I've worked for a few Ministries. I don't think they want to incriminate someone who is a possible spy within the criminal rings. Someone who could give them very valuable information for a cheap fee."

"And have you done that?" he asked. His voice had gone from uncertain to stern and scathing. "Information peddling one of your services now? I hope you haven't given any other information than is necessary."

"You know I take no sides," Morgana replied smoothly. "I've no interest in political affiliations."

"So you work for money, then." The disdain was very clearly meant for her. "Is that all it takes for you to change sides? I thought you were better than that."

"After Father threw me out of the house there weren't a whole lot of ways of being the better person, Mord." Morgana's voice had hardened into steel. She hated being reminded of the one event that had changed her life and pushed her down the darker path. "But I guess you wouldn't know that, would you? Spent all this time being protected by your dear government, which I might add was more corrupt than I was at the time?"

The pain that flitted across his face did not go amiss, but Morgana was angry now and had no sympathy for him. "Did you think it was easy trying to survive out on the streets, Mord? What would you have known about what drove me to steal? Don't come here and lecture me on being my moral superior when you have had no idea of the sacrifices I've had to make just to live."

"And you don't either!" Mordecai took a step forward. "You don't have any right to make assumptions about my life. Did you think it was all roses and peaches in the Ministry? For two wars? While you were enjoying your escape of Lord Voldemort, did you think about what I had to endure through those years? Did you?"

"I should be asking you that question!" snapped Morgana. "You, asking me to think of you? And why in the world would you think you deserve it, when you didn't have the guts to stop Father from disowning me? You promised you wouldn't tell him!"

"And I never did! He found your books!"

"But you could have told him that I'd done nothing with the spells!" The OPEN on the sign hanging on the door merged into a black dot before forming the words CLOSED. "You should've said that I was only studying them!"

"And you know how he's like." Mordecai lowered his voice. "You know he wouldn't have listened to me. He only believes what he sees. What could I have done to stop him, short of actually hexing him?"

"Sometimes I wish you had," Morgana replied bitterly. "You just stood there and watched him kick me out. Did you think I'd have any sympathy for you after that?"

"Then tell me what I could've done!"

"You were old enough to think for yourself, I don't need to tell you what to do!" Morgana steadied herself a bit; she had never spat words with so much venom before. It took her a few minutes to regain her composure, after which she added, "I thought you would've. You were always so confident. I thought that you would have protected me. Because you're my brother, and you always will be."

At this Mordecai looked away, closing his eyes. His expression of anger gave way to pain. "I don't know about that one."

"What? Why not?!" Morgana's voice rose in panic. "I'm still a Hollingbury!"

"Not in his eyes." Mordecai sighed, still not looking at her. "I'm not supposed to contact you, or consider you family. I haven't told anyone about you, not even my own family. I'm not even supposed to talk to you."

"Then we'll pretend we're not having this conversation, how's that?" Morgana asked sarcastically. "Father isn't here, Mord. What he won't know won't kill him."

"All secrets escape eventually," Mordecai said gloomily.

The silence that followed was deep, uncomfortable, dark. Morgana had suddenly remembered that the people she knew in her ordinary, mundane life had had no idea about her double life as a criminal. She was worried that one day they would find out. One day they would see her for what she really was. And she was afraid of that day.

She swallowed. "Right here and now, it hasn't and won't." The yearning to be part of her family once again had returned, and her heart had somehow lodged itself in her throat. "Please, Mord...let me be part of the family."

"I can't." Mordecai's voice was flat. "It won't be easy, hiding it from him. We still visit him on occasion. And you know that while he's still alive, you can't come back in on your own accord."

"Then ask him!"

"Why didn't you ask him yourself when you came back? If you've changed, why don't you show it to him that you have?" Mordecai indicated the shop around him. "Surely this would be enough for him to change his mind?"

"He won't talk to me." Morgana's voice was just as flat as her brother's. "He won't even look at me. Your point?"

"Not even a letter?"

"Mord, I've sent letters back home to him. He's never replied to them. On a few occasions the owls I sent had singed wings! He burns the letters as soon as he realises they're from me!" Her voice had now taken on a pleading tone. She couldn't remember the last time she had been this emotional. "I wouldn't be able to get his attention even with a Howler. Ever since Mother's death, his word is law, and I can't change it!"

"What makes you think I can, then?" Mordecai raised an eyebrow.

"Because to him you're still his son? Because, oh, I don't know, he lets you step over the threshold into his house?" Morgana threw her hands into the air. "You tell me!"

Mordecai didn't answer for a long time. When he finally did, he sounded distant and uncertain. "I don't know, Morgana. I really don't. If I thought I had a chance of changing his mind, I would've tried earlier on. You didn't see him after he threw you out...he was furious and ranting to me about you. If I'd so much as opened my mouth he would have thrown me out too. And then where would we be? What good would it have accomplished? Sometimes the best you can do is keep quiet and hope for the best." He looked at her sideways, as if afraid of gazing at her face to face. "And that's what I did. I hoped for the best. For you. I hoped you could find a way to gain back his favour."

"Like I said, there weren't a whole lot of options for me after that." She rubbed her arms absently. "And for your information, working for money is a lot better than working for people who just want to watch the world burn."

Mordecai shook his head. "No. I...no. I'm not going to make judgement calls on what you did back then anymore. You're right. If you've changed like you've said, then I'd have some hope for you." He looked around the shop. "But I can't trust you completely. If what you say is true, that's good. If not...how could I ever overturn Father's decision without sounding like I'm lying myself? It would give me no reason at all to have faith in your ways."

"I want to go back to having a normal life." The brief rage that had buoyed her was now subsiding; her voice was weakening. "I just want to be a normal witch, Mord. You have no idea how hard it is." She closed her eyes, bowing her head as she felt the tears come into her eyes. "I just...want to come home to my family."

Her brother still wasn't looking at her; his gaze was focused on the floor. "I'm sorry," he said. "Two of them don't even know you exist, and I can't tell them. I promised. In hindsight it wasn't a promise I should have made, but I can't go back and undo it now. If I could tell you that you were welcome to come back, I would...but..."

Morgana shook her head, swallowing hard enough to shove her heart back out of her throat for the moment. "No. I didn't expect you to say those words. It would be lovely, but I knew you were going to say that."

"I really am sorry, Morgana." Mordecai finally looked up at her, but she was the one averting her gaze now. "It's out of my hands. I can only just promise you that I'll talk to him when I see him." He turned towards the door. "That's all I can promise you now."

"I'll hold you to it." Morgana opened her eyes and looked at him, taking in his figure, his familiar stance. For a split second she wanted to just give in to her urge of hugging him. It had been too long since she had felt his arms around her, and there was no other person who could ever substitute that sensation. But she was torn - torn between doing it, and expecting his response to be one of rejection. Just like every single failed attempt at romance in her life.

"Morgana?" She looked up. He was looking over his shoulder at her.

"Yes?"

"I just want you to know that," his voice softened, "no matter what Father said, you've always been, and always will be, my younger sister to me."

And then he was gone, his departure letting in a brief glimpse of the grey rainy weather outside, leaving behind wet shoeprints and the jangling of a lone bell. Morgana stood in her shop for a while, staring at the place where he had been, before pointing her wand at the front door to lock it. Then she turned and fled into her stockroom, slamming the door behind her so hard that it bounded open again, letting the sound of sobbing filter into the shop before dwindling away.


Mordecai stood outside and took deep breaths. The amount of anxiety he had been going through was just starting to fade, but it left an aftertaste that made him feel sick inside.

The cold, wet drops of rain brought him back to his senses. He looked up at the grey sky above him, composing himself and calming down. Then, without looking back, he walked the way he came towards the exit, giving no regard to the rain as he wiped his eyes.

1.	New Face in an Old Place