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The start of the avalanche

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This story is No. 9 in the series "Adventures of Vampire Slayers in London". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: A small stone can start a great avalanche. What if the stone isn't that small to begin with? What will it start?

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Miscellaneous > Myths & Legends
Harry Potter > Faith-Centered
DmitriFR731,678012,92611 Jan 128 Feb 12Yes

Chapter One

Disclaimer: none of the characters are mine, but belong to their respective owners.
Note: this story is a part of a series, and must be read after them to better understand what's going on.


Several hours ago, when Priya Koothrappali was still flying from India to England on a plane, Faith LeHane – also known as V’iera Nocturna LeStrange – was sitting in her room and watch-ing the sunset through her window.

“There are four times of particular power in each twenty-four hours daily,” she remembered her Watcher telling her seemingly a long time ago – and for her, it was a long time ago, far longer than a mere flow of years and months, for Faith or V’iera, whether a Vampire Slayer or witch, was thinking in terms of experience.

“There are four times of particular power in each twenty-four hours daily, each one marking a beginning of change: sunrise, sunset, midnight and noon,” Faith whispered to herself. “Noon – the start of the end of the day. Midnight – the start of end of the night. Sunrise – the start of the day. Sunset – the start of the night.”

“How wise you are, o saffron-robed one, how astute and prudent!”

Slowly, Faith turned around. She had not heard this person speak in a long, long time, but this mocking, angular, seemingly fragile voice was not something that one could forget even in a long time.

“Morgan le Fay – duchess of Cornwall, queen of Gore,” Faith said in a voice that was low rather than threatening. What paths have brought you here tonight, your grace and Majesty?”

“Stop it,” Morgan said imperiously, as she shifted into a more comfortable position on Faith’s chair. “You forgot that as a mistress of Julius Caesar I could’ve staked a claim to the Roman Empire when it was still a republic!”

“My bad,” Faith shrugged as she sat down on her table instead. “So what brings you here tonight instead? You want to declare that your share of Roman Empire was Britain and you’re going to claim it now?”

“Very funny,” Morgan said dryly, “if I ever want to have a permanent jester in my court-“ she caught Faith’s own dark gaze, and there was something lurking in its depths that even the half-fairy sorceress quickly changed her mind about the punchline, “-it most certainly won’t be you, saffron-robed one.”

“And yet, now that we got that out of the way?” Faith pressed on, drumming her fingers on the tabletop from nerves.

“I’m bored,” Morgan said simply. “With that boy Riddle dead, I feel boredom upon me, and despair born upon that boredom – one that is so intense, that I haven’t felt anything like it since Arthur fell upon the field of Camlann.”

“You loved him?” Faith asked, curious despite herself.

“That matters not,” Morgan said sharply, as she leaned forwards in the deepening sunset shadows. “I’m bored. Don’t make me use force and magic of names to make you amuse me!”

“I see,” Faith leaned forwards, straight into Morgan’s eyes. She was sitting before the sunlit window beyond which the sun was sinking beyond the horizon. As a result, half of Faith’s face was dark, covered in shadow, but half was colored red by the setting sun. “Very well. You want amusement? Go to St. Mungo’s. Find the patient named Verte Lovegood. Aid her. She’ll amuse you!”

“Verte Lovegood?” Morgan repeated, all but tasting the name. “I think that the winds might’ve whispered of that name and of the exploits connected with it. I think that you did what I asked you to!”

And then she vanished, even as the sunset (and across London Priya’s flight had finally touched the ground) came to an end, replaced by evening and eventually by the night.

“So,” Faith said wearily, as she got off the table and into an armchair, “it begins.”

TBC
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