Disclaimer: Bryn's mine, but most of the other stuff in this belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Chapter 6 – Professor Morta: The door creaked open to reveal a tall, sketally thin woman dressed in unrelieved black. She had jet-colored hair and onyx eyes. Her skin was even paler than Bryn's; in fact, she was whiter than marble. "Hello," she said. "I am Professor Morta," she informed Bryn. Morta's voice was soft and somehow haunting. Bryn took a deep breath. "Ambryn Sayre," she told the teacher quietly.
"I know. Come in, quickly," Morta said, stepping aside so Bryn could come in. Bryn walked into the room, curiosity slowly defeating her nervousness. Inside, the room was lit by many black tapers. Most of the walls were covered in bookshelves, but there was a large window hung with black, silver-edged drapes that overlooked the Forbidden Forest. There was a table with two chairs in the middle of the room; Morta took a seat on one of the chairs and gestured for Bryn to take the other. She hurried to do so.
"Now, your former Necromancy instructor, Andrea Harper, wrote me a letter about you. Apparently you've got a very good grasp on your abilities thus far. You've also got a lot of raw power. I sensed you the moment you set foot in the castle; if I can, an enemy necromancer could do the same. So that's one thing we'll be working on this year. We'll also work on astral projection – theory first, then practical usage, and spend a good time studying the Abyss – do you know what that is?" Bryn nodded. "Tell me," Morta ordered. "The Abyss is a limbo, the place between life and death. People are trapped there by spells gone wrong – usually necromantic ones, but not always. Another way is to be sent there by a necromancer purposely, and the last way is to fall through a Rift, which is a gate between Life and the Abyss. One such gate is known as the Veil of Shadows; the Ministry of Magic here in Britain studies it in their Department of Mysteries. Another Rift is the Black Circle in Korea; it's a circle of large black boulders," recited Bryn. "Good. Can you escape the Abyss?"
"Yes. You either die there, in which case, you go into the afterlife, or a necromancer gets you out by casting a calling spell at the Rift you fell through. However, few necromancers can pull this off and most just get sucked into the Abyss as well."
Morta looked pleased. "Miss Harper was right. You do grasp the concepts well. I'm impressed." Bryn smiled uneasily. She liked the praise, but something about Morta just wasn't...right.
Morta noticed her discomfort. "I take it you've sensed I'm not exactly normal, judging by the look on your face. Do you know what is off about me?" Bryn shook her head. "I didn't think so. As far as I know, I'm the only one like this in the world." She sighed. "I'm part vampire." Bryn's jaw dropped; she was about to ask how a person could be part vampire, but Morta held up a hand for silence. "Let me explain. When I was about 25 or so, I was gravely injured in a necromancer's duel." Bryn shuddered; necromantic duels were far worse than normal wizard's duels, seeing as how necromancers could call up demons and spirits as well as fight mind-to-mind. "Yes, it was horrible," Morta said dryly, noting the shudder. Then she continued with her story. "At the time, I had a vampire friend who gave me some of his blood to save my life. I didn't become a vampire because he took none of my blood, but I won't die for a very long time and I heal very fast. I also look far younger than I am – I'm about 60."
Bryn's jaw dropped once again. She hadn't thought Morta could be more than 30! "Wow," was all she could think to say. Morta smiled grimly. "'Wow' isn't exactly the term I'd use, but I suppose it fits." She glanced at the clock. "It's nearly eight. You'd best go but first -" she handed Bryn a silver medallion on which a yin-yang (a symbol of necromancy because it showed balance between polar opposites such as black and white or life and death) had been engraved. "Every time you come to me, bring this. No teacher will punish you if you have it after lights-out, which is important, because lessons often will last for hours." Bryn nodded. "Thanks, Professor," she said, and left the room.
When she returned to Gryffindor Tower, she explained to a curious Harry and Ron that she'd gone for a walk and lost track of time. Ron accepted this, but somehow, Bryn had the feeling Harry wasn't quite convinced. But she couldn't control that, and at least Harry didn't press her.
That night, Bryn dreamed of the man in fog again. When she woke, sweating, she was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was no normal dream. Worse, she had a bad feeling it was related to necromancy but she just wasn't sure how. She groaned and rolled over, falling asleep once more. This time she dreamed that she was very little, and something scary was happening...
"Mommy? What's wrong? What's going on?" Bryn was scared. Mommy was packing things away and she was crying. She didn't answer Bryn's questions, just said, "Hush, Bryna, it's OK." Bryn didn't think so. "Where's Daddy?" she asked. Mommy pulled her into a hug and, sobbing now, whispered, "I'm so sorry, honey. Daddy's not coming home. He did a bad thing and he's gone. Don't cry. Drink this." The stuff Mommy wanted her to drink was yucky, but she drank, and soon, her daddy, who was so clear in her mind, faded away, and then she was falling asleep...
Bryn woke up for the second time that night, tears streaming down her face. She was filled with a terrible pain that stemmed from her knowledge that her mother had betrayed her in a terrible way. That stuff her mom made her drink was definitely some kind of potion to erase parts of her memory. It was why, although she had fairly clear memories from the beginning of her life in America, everything before it was a blur of emotion and half-formed concepts. She had to have a good reason, thought Bryn. But even if she did, it will be hard to forgive her.
A/N: So, how was it? I know, it moved pretty fast from necromancy lessons to dreams, but I want to get the stage set for future chapters, and this was part of that.