# When Magic Remembers
## Chapter 5: The Serpent's Gift
Morgana's sacred grove was like stepping into a living dream.
Harry followed the legendary witch through pathways that seemed to shift when he wasn't looking directly at them, past trees whose leaves whispered secrets in languages he didn't recognize. The very air shimmered with magic so concentrated it was almost visible, and more than once he caught glimpses of creatures that definitely weren't native to medieval Scotland—or any time period he was familiar with.
"Your grove exists partially outside normal space," Rowena observed, her analytical mind already working to understand what they were experiencing. "How is that possible?"
Morgana's laugh was like silver bells chiming in a distant tower. "Space is rather more fluid than most people realize, my dear. When you've been working with the deep magic as long as I have, you learn that boundaries are largely matters of perspective."
They emerged into a circular clearing dominated by a pool of water so still it looked like black glass. Around its edge, thirteen standing stones rose from the earth, each one covered in symbols that seemed to writhe and shift in the filtered sunlight. The magical pressure here was so intense that Harry felt his ears pop.
"This is the heart of my domain," Morgana said, settling gracefully onto a moss-covered boulder beside the pool. "Where the old magic runs deepest, where the boundaries between what is and what might be grow thin. If you truly wish to attempt what you've described, this is where it must begin."
Aelfric was studying the standing stones with obvious fascination. "These markings… I recognize some of them from the oldest texts, but others are completely unfamiliar. How old is this place?"
"Old enough that the stones remember when the ice covered this land," Morgana replied. "Old enough that the magic here predates any human understanding of how power should work. The druids found it and learned from it, but they didn't create it. None of us did."
Harry approached the pool cautiously, extending his magical senses toward the dark water. Immediately, he felt the same deep pulse he'd learned to recognize at Hogwarts, but magnified a hundredfold. This wasn't just a connection to the earth's sleeping power—this was a direct conduit to something vast and ancient and utterly alien to human experience.
"Can you feel it?" Morgana asked, watching his reaction carefully. "The consciousness that dwells in the deep places? It's been waiting for a very long time."
"Waiting for what?" Harry managed, though speaking was difficult with that enormous presence pressing against his mind.
"For someone capable of bridging the gap between old and new, wild and tamed, what was and what will be." Morgana's eyes were fixed on Harry with an intensity that made him deeply uncomfortable. "Tell me, young wizard, what do you know of the Serpent's Gift?"
The words sent a chill down Harry's spine. In his own time, any reference to serpents in magical context usually meant either Slytherin House or something much darker. "I'm not familiar with that term."
"Few are, these days. It's one of the oldest names for a particular type of magical awakening—when a wizard learns to speak directly to the fundamental forces that govern reality." Morgana's smile was sharp as a blade. "Some call it parseltongue, though that's a crude simplification. It's not about speaking to snakes, but about understanding the language that exists beneath all other languages."
Harry's blood turned to ice. Parseltongue. She was talking about parseltongue, the ability that had marked him as Voldemort's equal, that had nearly gotten him expelled from Hogwarts, that had made people fear and distrust him for years. But according to Morgana, it was something more than just talking to snakes?
"I see the recognition in your eyes," Morgana continued, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "You have touched this gift, haven't you? Perhaps without fully understanding what it meant."
Rowena was looking between them with growing alarm. "What are you talking about? What gift?"
Before Harry could respond, Morgana gestured toward the pool. "Show her, young serpent-speaker. Let her hear the voice that sleeps beneath the water."
Harry hesitated. He'd never told anyone about his parseltongue ability—in this time period, where dark and light magic weren't as clearly separated, the revelation might not carry the same stigma it had in his own era. But it would certainly complicate things.
"Trust is the foundation of all great magic," Morgana said softly. "And what you're attempting to create will require trust beyond anything previously imagined."
Taking a deep breath, Harry extended his consciousness toward the pool and spoke in the sibilant, hissing language he'd hoped never to use again. *"Ancient one, we seek connection, we seek understanding. Will you hear us?"*
The response was immediate and overwhelming. The water began to glow with an inner light, and suddenly Harry could hear voices—not human voices, but something deeper and more fundamental. The standing stones began to resonate in harmony, their symbols blazing with silver fire.
*"Yesss,"* came the reply, in a voice like wind through deep caverns. *"We have been waiting. The time of joining approaches. But the price must be paid, the bond must be sealed, the old ways must be honored."*
Rowena staggered backward, her face pale with shock. "By all the gods… what is that thing?"
"Not a thing," Morgana corrected gently. "A force. One of the fundamental powers that shaped the world when it was young. And it's been sleeping here for millennia, waiting for someone with the gift to wake it properly."
Aelfric was staring at Harry with a mixture of awe and concern. "You can speak the old tongue. The language of creation itself. I'd heard legends, but I never imagined…"
*"Speak to it,"* Harry said in parseltongue, addressing Morgana. *"Ask it about the connections we seek to make."*
But Morgana shook her head. "I cannot. The Serpent's Gift is not something that can be learned or taught—one is born with it or not at all. The old powers will only speak to those they recognize as their own." Her eyes fixed on Harry again. "Which raises very interesting questions about your heritage, young Harry of Potter's Field."
Harry ignored the implication and turned back to the pool. *"We wish to connect this place to another, to create a network of safe havens that can support each other. Is such a thing possible?"*
The ancient presence seemed to consider this for a long moment. When it responded, Harry felt the weight of vast intelligence behind the words.
*"Possible, yes. But not without cost. The deep magic demands balance—what is given must be taken, what is joined must be separated elsewhere. To create new connections, old ones must be severed."*
"What does it mean?" Rowena asked urgently.
Harry translated, and saw immediate concern in her eyes. "Severed connections… that could mean cutting existing magical bonds, disrupting natural flows that have been stable for centuries. The ecological damage could be enormous."
*"Is there another way?"* Harry asked the presence in the pool. *"Some method that doesn't require destroying what already exists?"*
*"There is… but it would require a different kind of sacrifice. Not severing connections, but creating new ones through the life force of those who attempt the working. The magic would be bound to them, dependent on them, sustained by them."*
A chill ran down Harry's spine as he translated this response. "It's saying we could create the network by using our own life force as the binding agent. We'd become living conduits for the magical connections."
"And what would that mean for us?" Aelfric asked quietly.
Harry posed the question and waited for the response. What came back made his stomach clench with dread.
*"Connection. Forever. Your lives would be linked to every place the network touches, your consciousness dispersed across all the connected sites. You would gain power beyond imagination, but lose the simple clarity of singular existence. And if one connection fails, if one site falls to darkness, all who are bound to the network would share in that corruption."*
The clearing fell silent except for the gentle lapping of water against the pool's edge. Harry translated the entity's words, and saw the same horrified realization dawn in his companions' eyes.
"It's describing a form of magical parasitism," Rowena said finally. "We'd become part of the network ourselves, unable to exist independently of it. And if any connected site were compromised…"
"We'd all be compromised," Aelfric finished grimly. "It's too dangerous. The risk to ourselves, to Hogwarts, to every place we might connect—it's too great."
But Morgana was studying Harry with a speculative expression. "Unless," she said slowly, "the binding were done by someone who already carries a form of magical corruption. Someone whose life force is already partially separated from normal human existence."
Harry's hand moved instinctively to his forehead, where his scar lay hidden beneath his medieval disguise. The Horcrux was gone, destroyed in his own time, but the seventeen years it had spent fused to his soul had left marks that even he didn't fully understand. Could those marks be what Morgana was sensing?
"What are you suggesting?" he asked carefully.
"That perhaps you're uniquely suited to serve as the primary conduit for such a network. Your magic has already been touched by forces beyond normal human experience—I can sense the echoes of something that was once part of you but is no longer. If that experience has left you capable of surviving the kind of magical binding we're discussing…"
"Absolutely not," Rowena said flatly. "We're not sacrificing Harry to create our network. There has to be another way."
But Harry was already considering the implications. In his own time, he'd survived things that should have killed him precisely because his soul had been damaged in ways that made him different from normal wizards. What if those differences could be turned to advantage here? What if the price he'd already paid in his original timeline could serve a purpose in this one?
*"If one were to attempt this binding,"* he asked the ancient presence, *"what would be required?"*
*"Blood and will and the willingness to be forever changed. The ritual itself is simple—three drops of freely given blood from the speaker into each pool or spring or sacred site to be connected. But the consequences are permanent and far-reaching. Choose carefully, young serpent-speaker."*
Harry translated, and immediately regretted it. The looks of alarm on his companions' faces told him exactly what they thought of the idea.
"Harry, no," Aelfric said urgently. "The risk is too great. We'll find another way."
"What if there isn't another way?" Harry replied. "What if this is our only chance to create something that could stand against Herpo's darkness?"
"Then we face that darkness without the network," Rowena said firmly. "I won't be party to a plan that requires sacrificing you."
But Morgana was nodding slowly. "The young serpent-speaker understands what the rest of you do not. Some gifts can only be given by those who have already been broken and remade. Some magic can only be worked by those who have touched the boundaries between life and death and returned changed."
She stood and walked to the edge of the pool, her reflection wavering in the dark water. "I've seen this pattern before, in the oldest stories and the deepest magics. The one who speaks the serpent's tongue, who has been marked by powers beyond mortal understanding, who stands at the crossroads between destruction and creation. The legends call such a figure the Twice-Born."
"What does that mean?" Harry asked, though something in his bones already knew the answer.
"One who has died and returned, one who has been broken and remade, one who carries within themselves the seeds of both salvation and damnation." Morgana's eyes were ancient as she looked at him. "Tell me, Harry of Potter's Field, have you ever died?"
The question hung in the air like a blade. Harry thought of the Killing Curse in the Forbidden Forest, of the strange King's Cross station where he'd spoken with Dumbledore's spirit, of the choice he'd made to return to life and finish what needed to be done.
"Yes," he said quietly. "I have."
Rowena's sharp intake of breath was audible in the sudden silence. Aelfric was staring at him with something approaching awe. And Morgana… Morgana was smiling as if he'd just confirmed her deepest suspicions.
"Then you understand," she said softly. "The network can be created, the connections can be forged, but only by one who has already walked the path between life and death. Only by one who knows the price of true sacrifice."
"The others don't have to know the full extent of what's required," Harry said, his mind already working through the implications. "We can tell them it's a complex ritual that requires specialized knowledge. They'll accept that."
"You're talking about lying to your friends," Rowena pointed out. "To the people who trust you."
"I'm talking about sparing them the burden of a choice they shouldn't have to make," Harry replied. "This is my decision to make, not theirs."
Aelfric was shaking his head. "Harry, think about what you're proposing. You'd be binding yourself to every site in the network, making yourself responsible for their protection and vulnerable to their corruption. If even one location fell to Herpo's influence…"
"Then I'd die, probably," Harry said with a calmness that surprised him. "But the network would hold, the other sites would remain protected, and thousands of people would have a chance to survive what's coming."
It was, he realized, exactly the kind of choice he'd been making all his life. The needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few. His own safety meaning less than the safety of everyone he might protect.
Some things never changed, no matter what century he found himself in.
"The ritual itself is not complex," Morgana said, apparently deciding that the debate was settled. "But it must be done at the moment when the magical currents are strongest—during the new moon, when the barriers between worlds are thinnest. That gives us two weeks to prepare."
"Two weeks to talk him out of this madness," Rowena muttered.
But Harry was already committed. He'd spent his entire life being responsible for other people's safety, making impossible choices, bearing burdens that should have been shared. This felt familiar in a way that was almost comforting.
Besides, he'd died once before and survived it. How much worse could magical binding to an ancient network possibly be?
As they prepared to leave the grove, Morgana pulled Harry aside for a private word.
"You're not telling them everything," she observed. "About what you are, where you come from, why you're really here."
"Some truths are too dangerous to share," Harry replied carefully.
"Indeed. But consider this—the Serpent's Gift you carry, the echoes of death and rebirth that cling to your magic, the knowledge of techniques that won't be invented for centuries… these things mark you as more than just a displaced wizard." Her eyes bored into his. "You're a nexus point yourself, a place where multiple timelines and possibilities converge. Creating this network might do more than just protect a few magical sites—it might change the fundamental nature of magic itself."
"Is that good or bad?"
Morgana's smile was enigmatic. "That depends entirely on what you choose to do with the power you're about to claim."
As they rode back toward Hogwarts, Harry found himself thinking about choices and consequences, about the weight of knowledge and the burden of responsibility. In two weeks, he would bind himself to an ancient magical network and become something unprecedented in magical history.
The question was whether he would still be himself when it was over.
But looking back at the grove disappearing behind them, feeling the deep magic stirring in response to his presence, Harry found he was almost eager to find out.
After all, he'd spent his entire life being someone else's weapon, someone else's symbol, someone else's hope. Maybe it was time to discover what he could become when the choices were entirely his own.
Even if those choices led him down paths that no one had ever walked before.
The ride back to Hogwarts was subdued, each of them lost in their own thoughts about what they'd learned and what Harry was proposing to do. But as the familiar towers came into view across the valley, Harry felt a strange sense of homecoming.
This was where he belonged, he realized. Not in his original time, where the war was over and his purpose was unclear, but here, in the past, where his unique combination of knowledge and experience could make a real difference.
Where he could help build something that would endure for a thousand years.
Where he could finally choose his own destiny, even if that destiny was unlike anything anyone had imagined before.
The castle gates stood open to welcome them home, and Harry rode through them with the weight of the future pressing down on his shoulders like a familiar cloak.
Some burdens, he was beginning to understand, were worth carrying.
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*Author's Note: Chapter 5 reveals Harry's parseltongue ability and its deeper significance in this ancient magical context, while introducing the concept of the Serpent's Gift and Harry's nature as the "Twice-Born." The magical network takes on darker implications as the true cost is revealed—requiring Harry to sacrifice his individual existence to become a living conduit for the connections.*
*Morgana le Fay is portrayed as ancient, wise, and morally ambiguous rather than simply evil—she understands deep magic in ways the founders don't, but her solutions come with terrible prices. Her recognition of Harry as something unique sets up future plot developments.*
*The chapter also advances Harry's character arc—he's accepting that his destiny in this timeline involves making the same kinds of sacrificial choices he made in his original time, but now he's doing it by choice rather than obligation.*
*Next chapter: "The Weight of Crowns" - Harry returns to Hogwarts to find the founders dealing with new pressures as refugees flee south and political tensions rise, while he struggles with whether to tell them the truth about what the network ritual will require.*