Morgana didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Back when she was the King’s Ward, they had had fireworks on several occasions but none to celebrate a new year. There was no reason to fuss at all really. It was just an excuse for people to forget about their problems by getting drunk and polluting the air. In Camelot, they only had fireworks on her birthday, or Uther’s or Arthur’s and they would sometimes celebrate the burning of the witches or a certain number of years of persecuting those with magic. Even before she had discovered her own abilities, Morgana had hated those celebrations and any celebration of death. But still, she went to the fireworks. She might as well see them instead of being annoyed by the noise in her home. While she was waiting for midnight, she spotted the pale blonde boy who she had spoken to about magic. For whatever reason, she was intrigued by him. He seemed to look down at people without magic and she was the same. Especially to anyone who would consider persecuting her. She walked up to him, managing to recall his name before she reached him, “Good evening, Draco.”
