Pure As We Begin
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter names, characters and locations belong to J.K. Rowling. All Pet Semetary names, characters and locations belong to Stephen King. I own nothing that you recognize.
They had been given a moment, a pause between labored breaths and futile curses, a time to gather their dead and prepare for the final battle. Families wept and children mourned, losing both parents and siblings alike. But when the war was over and the Order declared itself triumphant, who saw to it that she was given her proper respects?
The answer was no one. No one came to wrap her body in cloth and carry her home. Not a word was spoken as her remains were flung over the parapet, piece by piece, where she would begin to decay with the slow passage of time. They bid her farewell, never knowing who she was, never thinking that she was something more to someone else.
The only one who ever cared for her, who remained hidden all this time, was seen by no one as he began his search. When he came, he passed like smoke, drifting between the stars and gliding along the water's edge. He had learned the secret to survival through observation, first with Gellert Grindelwald as he preached to the masses, then with Tom Riddle as he shared the secrets of the serpent's venom, how it could be used to sustain someone when they were near death. But that was not the reason why he sought her out. Not after all they'd been through.
Slowly, he began his descent, his features wreathed in tendrils of living shadow. It wasn't until the darkness receded that a figure began to emerge, his feet touching down amid the ruins of the castle.
"Nagini, where are you?"
He paused, the chill of the night air upon his face, looking out amongst the crumbling forms and collapsing walls. The earth shifted under his weight as he began to move. Each step brought him closer to his past, to the years he'd spent in question, wondering who he was and where he came from. Then came the memories of who she'd been, her laughter present even now, warming the desolation with the melodious sound of her voice.
She did not hiss or rasp, not unless she chose to. She did not slither along the ground, not unless she felt like it. Her skin, so pale against the sapphire blue of her dress, was smooth and warm, her eyes gazing fondly at him, a smile playing across her lips. She was every bit an angel as she was beautiful, walking upright through the crowd, head held high, never cringing or shying away from the others.
"Oh Nagini, where are you?"
Moisture pooled in the corners of his eyes. Fingers, numb from the cold, turned over stones, searching. When no one else cared to look, Credence was there. When no one else remembered, he dreamt of her. She had given so much in the time they were together. He couldn't leave her here. She deserved better than this.
Another stone overturned, releasing the fetid stench of death from the area in which she'd fallen. It arose like a noxious cloud, assaulting his senses and causing him to stumble backwards.
His breath caught in a sound too harsh to be a cry of outrage, a dark force pulsing beneath his ribs as a rush of fury consumed his every thought. This tormented cry gave way to an anguished howl, his fists striking the earth as he fell to his knees beside her. It would be a moment before the smell of her rotting corpse seeped into his lungs, his wretched sobs breaking as he nearly choked, leaning sideways and vomiting onto the parched earth.
It was here that he collapsed, vomit trickling down the side of his face, his arms around his chest, gasping and trembling. He lay on his side, her voice a faded echo in his mind, unable to move from her final resting place.
"No," he whispered, the endless winds ruffling the hair on his scalp. "This is not the end." Looking over at her, he placed the palm of his hand against the earth, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and inhaling a deep, shuddering breath. "It will be alright, Nagini. I promise. I swear it."
He recalled the stories of the Pet Semetary and the spoiled burial grounds that lie beyond. At first he had simply come to collect her, thinking that the Pet Semetary was the only place he'd be allowed to bury her. But there was nothing stopping him from entering the forbidden grounds and resurrecting his fallen friend.
"Nagini." His hands were trembling now, sifting through dirt, digging like an animal. "Nagini, I'm coming." Harsh, frantic breathing, the noise loud in his ears. "I'm going to take you away from this."
His hands were bleeding by the time he finished uncovering the rest of her body, a spreading horror gripping his chest when he realized that Nagini's head was missing.
Fresh tears pricked his eyes, his dirt encrusted fingers covering his mouth in a desperate attempt to silence the scream that was clawing its way up his throat.
The flesh along the back of his hands began to creep, moving and pulsing in waves. He was distantly aware of its voice, the Obscurus roaring to life within his veins. It drew his attention away from her headless body, the crawling motion of his skin extending down the length of his arms.
His eyes, now glazed and white, moved quickly from his bulging flesh to her festering corpse. His throat closed. Credence tried to scream, but only a thin whisper of air escaped. Rage consumed him once more, and he began digging with renewed vigor, uncovering her severed head no more than three feet from where he'd located her body.
Disbelief clouded his thoughts as he lifted her head from the mound of dirt and debris. A ring of soil encrusted her wounds, dried blood coating the grime that clung to her scales. The shattered vertebrae of her neck protruded from this gruesome mass, whiteness shining amongst the dangling strips of muscle and sinew.
He stared at her, mouth slightly agape, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. His eyes traveled the distance between her head and her body, looking back and forth, wondering how and why someone could have done this to her. When he felt certain he could take no more, the reality of what had happened entering like poison through his veins, Credence leaned forward, cradling her body and rocking her in his arms.
"Nagini." His voice was hoarse, hot tears cascading down his cheeks. "I'll make it better. Please, Nagini, I promise... I promise I'll make it better. I love you, Nagini. I love you and I promise this will end."
Alone, he wept for her, for the loss of a person no one would ever know. It was some time before he managed to stand, removing his cloak and wrapping her body in the dark material.
He would take her to the place where the dead rise, beyond the leaning markers and chunks of stone that formed the makeshift graveyard. He knew that he had to keep moving forward, never looking back, never looking down, over tangled branches and nests of thorns.
Credence climbed the hill in solitude, her dead weight heavy in his arms. Her tail hung limp from the bundle of fabric, swaying with each step, the greenish tip brushing against his leg. He took care not to let her scales catch on the brambles, using his arms to shield her from their thorny protrusions. His own face, as well as his arms and hands, had been scratched and were now trickling blood down his wrists and neck, but no matter. The chilling midnight winds had numbed his flesh to the point where he was unable to feel their sting.
"A little further," he breathed, holding her tight against his chest. Each exhalation of breath was whisked away on the wind, a trailing cloud of steam rising to greet the stars. "We're almost there, Nagini."
By the time he reached the Micmac burial grounds, his limbs were trembling and aching with exhaustion. He felt his insides lurch, bile and blackened liquid rising in his throat, and for one brief, terrifying moment he wasn't sure if he was going to vomit or expel the creeping parasite that gnawed at the interior of his stomach.
His last ounce of strength was spent forcing the Obscurus down into his abdomen, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps as he crumpled onto the stony earth. She had been the one who taught him how to control it, long ago in the days when they first met. He could do this. For Nagini's sake, he had to. He must. He'd gone too far to turn back now.
Kneeling beside her corpse, his thoughts dissolved into nothingness, his chest heaving as he fought for domination. Mindlessly, he began to claw at the earth, loose soil caking his wounds with a fine, greyish powder. He was close. So close now. He could almost hear her voice, urging him to remain calm.
He dug out the rocks that stood in his path, his fingernails fraying, splintering with each stone he removed. Little by little the hole began to take shape. And when the boulders were too large and heavy to dig out, he would place the palm of his hand over the offending object, allowing his Obscurus to obliterate the barrier.
When his work was finished, he lowered her into the grave, positioning her body so that she lay coiled against the earth, almost as if she were sleeping. The hole was filled in, the remaining stones piled atop the mound of soil before Credence got to his feet and stood gazing in silence at Nagini's grave.
Terrible as it may be, he had to leave her here, beneath the slowly spiraling galaxies that stood out against the blackness of the heavens. It was a thought that pained him, his heart seizing, constricting and aching, only to let go and fill him with a lingering grief.
He would await her return upon the edge of the woods, knowing that if he strayed from the path he would lose himself completely, wandering the cold, forgotten spaces until he succumbed to nightmares and death.
.oOo.
The twilight of dawn caressed the treetops, darkness fading as the sun reclaimed the earth. Credence slept on the ground, huddled in the shadows of an overhanging birch tree. He hadn't the strength nor the desire to wake, not until her footsteps found the path, returning as night settled over the forest floor.
Each shuffling movement stirred the dying vegetation that littered the path, dust rising in shimmering strands where it hung suspended in the moonlight. The air was ripe with the stench of death; it clung to her skin, intensifying with each breath, her lungs choked with dirt. One sagging eyeball turned upwards, staring vacantly at the sky, the other had fixated on the young man lying near the path.
She turned towards him, her silhouette moving against the circle of the moon, a figure only he would recognize. His arms closed around her, ignoring the fluids that dripped and ran from the wound that encircled her neck. None of this was enough to make him flee. All that mattered was that she walked the earth once more, the Obscurial and the Maledictus, their bond unbroken by death.
"Nagini," he whispered hoarsely, taking in the sight of her torn dress. There was dried blood and patches of moss clinging tenaciously to the rotted material. One arm hung limp in its socket, her curse seemingly vanished by the restorative properties of the Micmac burial grounds. "Look at you." His voice was trembling now, quivering with excitement as he ran his fingers through her hair. "You're human."
"Yes," she hissed, the word dragging across her lips. Her head tilted back, the whites of her eyes showing bloodshot as they rolled towards the canopy. "But there is something I must do before we can be together."
Credence blinked and stared at her. "What?"
"I... must..." Her voice was thick, hatred and determination lacing her tone. She wriggled out of his grasp, not bothering to look back as she limped towards the path. "You'll wait for me, won't you, Credence?"
"I will, Nagini." It was all he could say, helpless and staring as she vanished into the night.
.oOo.
The moon was beginning its descent as Neville Longbottem lay cradled in the arms of restful slumber. He was unaware of the figure that had entered the house, the gritting footsteps moving slowly along the staircase and towards the bedroom. It wasn't until the smell reached his nose that he came awake with a start, his breath hitching as he spied the woman crouched in the doorway.
"Grandma - " Neville began, pausing as the sour stench entered his mouth and nose, causing him to retch. He pushed himself into a sitting position, trying desperately to grasp at his thoughts in the face of that terrible smell. "Grandma, is that you?"
A sickly, feral noise halfway between a snarl and a hiss arose from the dark. The woman was trying to speak.
Neville heard syllables, twisted sounds that inverted upon themselves, but the actual words were slurred and unclear, a type of animal speech he couldn't understand. The effort seemed to tear at her vocal cords, blood rising in her throat as the unearthly hissing and spitting morphed into something akin to human language.
"Hello, little boy," said Nagini, her voice bubbling out of the bloody spume that dribbled past her lips. She was grinning now, flecks of soil staining her yellowed teeth. "You don't remember me, do you?"
A shiver traced its way down his spine, terror seizing his chest and making it difficult to breathe. The rational part of his mind was begging him to wake up, his back against the headboard as Nagini approached the bed.
It was a dream. Surely it was a dream. A very real, horrifying dream that carried with it the warm, putrid scent of death.
"Did you think I wouldn't come back sooner or later?" Dear Merlin, that wretched thing was still speaking, footsteps squelching, trailing mud across the hardwood floor. "Your grandmother is dead. There's no one left to mourn your death. No one left who gives a damn."
She took another step towards him, moonlight glinting off the silver blade she'd taken from the kitchen drawer. There was a coldness about her, a chill in the air that radiated from her skin. And that smell. A smell that unfurled like a poisonous cloud, choking and suffocating every living being within its reach.
She bared her teeth at him and hissed.
"No one left..."
It's only a dream. He would scream himself awake, thrashing against the crisp, white linen, tearing at the sheets and tumbling onto the floor.
And scream he did, flailing beneath her as the knife was plunged into his chest. Drops of blood leapt into the air, painting the walls with a spray of crimson.
"No one left!" She was positively howling with rage, bringing the knife down again and again.
His anguished cries echoed through the halls, terrible shrieks that signaled the end of life and the beginning of an unholy resurrection.
He grasped her wrist in a futile attempt to stop the blade from piercing his heart, and felt wet rolls of flesh coming away in his hands. Whatever this was, whatever magic existed in the spoiled grounds beyond the cemetery, had enabled Credence to succeed where two of the greatest wizards had failed.
Credence Barebone had become the Master of Death.