Harvesting a broken - a viridian soul provides a great challenge to the average necromancer. The star of David must stand in direct line to the combined forces of the Hand of Fatima with a sacred angle to at least three of the nine sinners. Furthermore one must block the soulstream by engaging in a standard blocking to keep the soul from splitting into several otherworlds.
These harvests work best when the axis of the world faces the path of Titan and Mercury in a ninety degree angle, but will work regardless of system positioning. However, a necromancer must be alerted when harvesting the souls of warriors if he stands under the watchful eyes of Ares.
'Thud' made Hermiones head when she slammed it onto her desk.
"Three nights! Nothing! Fuck this fucking ancient cunt asshole fuckdickweed DAMNIT!"
All Rukh had to offer was a snort at the choice of words that came from Hermiones mouth. The demon refrained from any comments, however, since she felt and saw how the frustration of her host took its toll. Three nights, indeed. Three nights in which Hermione merely lay in bed until her roommate slept tight. A combined sleep duration of six hours, gathered through naps during the day, that made itself visible in the bags under her eyes that she explained away with nightmares.
Not really a lie Rukh thought. Not understanding made her host loose her cool quicker than nest robbers would a breeding dragon mother. Her host was furious at the author and herself. The red sky and raging storm around Rukh were just the visible warnings for the demon to shut her mouth if nothing intelligent was about to come from it. For all intents and purposes, it was a nightmare.
Tonights chapter was about harvesting souls and just like the last nights Hermione didn't get any of it. 'Thud Thud Thud' made her head as she repeatedly slammed it onto the desk.
"Better now?" asked a concerned Rukh.
"Absolutely not." Hermione hissed back. It wasn't just her frustration that nagged on her. Hogwarts was approaching fast. In just two weeks, she would be off to Hogwarts and be stuck with her normal academic efforts, unable to continue her research.
"Couldn't creator just take the books with her?"
"Honestly? I don't even know. Hogwarts has barriers against the dark arts, but I'm unsure about written word on paper."
"No use risking it, Rukh supposes."
"No... No use, no need. Its not like we're getting anywhere with this. I would need... I would need... I would need..."
"An introduction?"
"Exactly." Hermione sighed in her mind and loudly outside of it. "But where would one find an instructor for necromancy without being caught by Aurors in Knockturn Alley? If that wretched place is even frequented by necromancers. Everything this triple-damned fuckwit of an author..."
Rukh once again snorted loudly at her hosts choice of words and forgotten manners.
"...says about necromancy makes it look like something sacred and holy. Maybe other necromancers are as deluded as he was and don't mingle with, what they would say, actual dark wizards?"
Having nothing to add, Rukh just silently agreed. What was there to do? Dead ends after every turn.
Hermione flipped through the pages in frustration and flew over the chapters. She had read 'Introduction', 'Misconception' and 'Harvest' by now. The next one would be 'Ritual' and the one after that 'Control'.
Just a quick glance told her that the chapters were equally cryptic in their wording and void of explanations as the first three. If anything, this was advanced necromancy.
She flipped through the book quicker and merely read a few of the titles. 'A banshees song', 'Life after Life', 'Commanding' and finally, as she reached the end of the books she found a single page chapter that was titled 'Contact'.
"Are you kidding me?"
'Thud'
"Aren't you supposed to be able to check through books?" Hermione shouted through her mind. She could feel the demon crumble under her angry onslaught and calmed herself in an instant.
"This one... Rukh is sorry, creator. The page... its new. It wasn't there before!"
"What?!"
Hermione immediatly began to read with new found motivation. There it was, the answer. Just like that.
Dear Brother, dear sister. If you read this page you have proven yourself worthy of a chance to be introduced to the Art of Death, properly.
You may have found yourself frustrated, angry at me and my words. Good. Remember this feeling for you are about to start on a path of nothing but frustration and anger. But rest assured – its worth it.
The invitation is 'Kronos'.
Below Hermione found a simple ritual, made up of some simple runes that were already drawn on the page.
"So, if I just... Kronos" she said and felt magic flow through her body into the circle. The runes began to glow first, then the lines connecting them. An azure mist came from the pages and formed an empty circle just before Hermione's face.
The bushy haired witch watched stunned as the attic glowed with the blue light from the ritual. The circle began to slowly rotate. With every full round, more and more... depth came to it. A blur of colors, some movement but all just splashes of color.
Slowly the blur sharpened and silhouettes became visible. It sharpened further and Hermione found herself staring into what seemed to be a workshop of sorts.
The room was rather dark, but comfy looking. Magical lights shone from runestones and illuminated the room with an eerie white light. Cupboards, vitrines and desks stood at the walls on every side of the room and were filled with thousands of different things. Hermione could make out potion ingredients, writing equipment and objects she couldn't even try to name.
However, what really peeked her interest was the person working in the middle of the room over a metal table. The person was gaunt and his skin white as paper. He was bald and his clothes hung on him like they didn't belong there. The man... Hermione was sure it was a man... stood above the table in deep concentration, mumbling some unintelligible words to himself.
Hermione didn't dare to talk. She wasn't even sure if he could see her, let alone hear her, but she was too stunned to try. Curious as to what the man did, she looked at the table. The small frame of the gaunt man hid the object of his work well and Hermione had to wait until he moved to gather something from one of the many cupboards, just to see...
"MERLIN!" she shouted and sprung up from her chair.
The man in the workshop started as if explosives went off beside his ears and threw around ingredients in shock. His head turned so fast, he nearly snapped his neck and big, fogged eyes looked terrified at Hermione.
Neither she nor the man knew what to do and stared at each other through the circle connecting them until he turned around and sprinted from the workshop shouting "Mistress!" through the house the room was in.
Hermione sat back down and fixated the table in the room with a horrified glance. There on the cold metal was the body... the body of...
"WHO ARE YOU?!" shouted a deep female voice through the circle. Her face was twisted in rage, amplified by her lilac colored eyes that reminded Hermione of a certain Death Eater maniac.
"I- I- I-" Hermione stuttered.
"What hellspawn's child are you? Lestranges? Malfoy? RIDDLE?" she shouted again in rage while the gaunt man cowered behind her in nothing short of absolute horror. "Answer me!"
"I- I- No! My name is- is-"
"ENGLISH GIRL! Sounds like you're the daughter of that inbred Goyle!"
"Granger!" Hermione finally answered. She felt the sweat on her forehead and let out the breath she realized she was holding. That woman was absolutely intimidating. Her lilac eyes fixated Hermione with loathing and promised a slow death.
"I don't know a family with that name. New nobility? Foreigners? I doubt Cygnus would let his daughters marry some wild west wizard, let alone some spoiled brat of an upstart family." the horrifying woman said slowly. Her eyes stayed at Hermione face and gazed into deep into the brown of her iris'. "So, who exactly are you, girl and how did you find the book?"
"I- I'm..." Hermione started and breathed once again to calm her nerves and form coherent sentences. "I'm Hermione Granger. I'm in my fifth year in Hogwarts. I..."
"Your parents, girl!" the woman interrupted.
"Tom and Michelle Granger. They're... they're dentists. Muggles."
"WHAT?!" The woman screeched and for the first time since she had entered the workshop, her face changed. A look of utter confusion was plastered on her face before she regained her senses and fell back into her angry persona. Hermione just didn't buy it anymore. At least not as much as before.
"You're a muggleborn, girl?" she asked in a curious tone.
"Yes." Hermione said quickly and then added. "Ma'am. The body on the table... thats... thats..."
"A gift to someone who needs it."
"But... But she..." Hermione gasped at the sheer impossibility of what she just saw. "But she's dead!"
That brought an amused smile to the woman in the workshop and even the gaunt man behind her chuckled in amusement.
"Whats so funny?" Hermione demanded.
"Girl. The fact that we are speaking right now tells me that you probably already know that 'dead' does not equal 'gone'."
"But she was killed. With the Killing Curse! Years ago"
"And I brought her back. Chapter 13, if you wonder. Rearranging Viridian souls."
"But... How?"
Another smile from the woman. "Right question. No time to answer, I'm afraid. Just know that the Killing Curse is in no shape or form death. Its a threshold. One that just very few in history ever not stepped over. This one here tried to decide for fourteen years until I made a proposal. Its merely a temporary removal from the world of the living. Not death. Do you know the difference?"
Hermione shook her head in frustration.
"Would you like to know?"
Hermione nodded. Nothing would make her more happy in this moment.
However, all she got from the woman was an even brighter smile.
"Who are you?" Hermione asked while doubting to get an answer.
"I would've thought you know that. After all, you were the one calling for me." she smiled knowingly. "You seem to be a smart one, girl. Your eyes tell me as much. Take a guess."
Hermione frowned in concentration and cleared her mind from all the distractions. She gathered quickly what she knew about the woman.
"She obviously knows the Black family. She called the husbands of the Black women hellspawns... help me here?" Hermione asked Rukh. The demon girl was suspiciously quiet during the conversation and didn't answer. "Would you help me here, Rukh?!"
No answer, again.
But Hermione didn't need the demons input as she remembered the Introduction chapter of the book before her.
"Isla Hitchens nee Black! You're one of the mentioned students. But..." Hermione stopped for a moment in awe to take a better look at the woman. She was looking like mid-thirty at best with her beautiful face that, now that Hermione knew, resembled the Black women in every trait. A strong, pretty jawline with flawless skin covering it. Her hair was white as snow and her lilac eyes spoke of many - many more years than her body. "How old are you?"
"Well done, girl. Its refreshing to see one of your age using their brain for more than angst and drama. To answer your question, I'm old enough to be your grandfather's, grandmother." She laughed at the last bit.
"And...and you're a... necromancer?" Hermione was cautious as she spoke the last word. She was still unsure what to think of the woman before her.
"Observant of you. Even though the people around me know me as a Potion Mistress."
"Then why do you tell me?"
Isla Hitchens leaned forward on the desk where the circle hovered over and looked at Hermione with a friendly expression. Long gone was the rage of the woman and left over was a kind tone as she answered quietly. "You read the book and the book granted you to contact me. Master Lazarus was, even though quirky and slightly insane, a genius. If you can contact me, I can trust you. At least that were his instructions. Even after all these years, I never had reason to doubt my masters skills."
Hermione swallowed hard at the implications. "So all this... its all true?"
"Its not wrong, is all I can say. Mind the date, girl. You're nearly a hundred years past the release date. Some things have changed, some got resolved, others got worse than expected."
Before Isla or Hermione could say more, the door of the workshop was opened and in came a handsome looking teenage boy. He was tall and had black, unruly hair with grey eyes to round his rather stunning appearance up. "Aunt Isla. Customers."
"What kind?" Isla said with some sort of automatism.
"I sent them to the lower levels."
"Very well. I'll be there in a minute." she said to the boy and sent him away with a small gesture of her hand. Then she turned back to Hermione, smiled at her again and spoke in a serious tone. "I must go. I enjoyed talking to you, girl."
"But... But what about the necromancy? I need your help, please!"
"Patience is the first step to becoming a great necromancer. So be patient. What you need, girl, is sleep. We will meet again, don't worry." she said and began to walk away to the door.
"But when?" Hermione asked loudly.
Isla didn't turn around. She just picked up a piece of parchment from the desk next to her, looked at it and smiled. "Sooner than you think." she chuckled. A flick with her wand and like a shattered glass, the circle and with it the connection broke down into the runes.
For a moment, all around Hermione was black. Her eyes went slowly back to see in the nearly complete darkness, just broken by a small candle right next to her book.
"She was right with what she said, creator." Rukh spoke and Hermione startled at the unexpected voice in her head.
"What do you mean? Lazarus? The book?... Her?"
"Sleep, creator."
"What?"
"You need sleep." Rukh chuckled and Hermione felt as the mist slowly caressed her spine and back as if Rukh patted her on the shoulders. Hermione sighed as she felt her eyelids becoming heavy and a yawn creeping up her throat.
"I'm not quite sure if sleeping is the right course of action. She got... ! Shouldn't we... I don't know... tell somebody... tell Harry?"
She could almost feel Rukh's eyebrow raising as if to ask 'Are you serious?' and Hermione quickly corrected herself. Of course she couldn't tell anybody. Best case, they would call her a nutter. Worst case, they would ask why she knew of a necromancers workshop somewhere on the world and throw her into Azkaban the moment they found out.
A loud yawn finally escaped her and Hermione took it as a signal to stand up and make her way to her bed. The pillow and blanket felt heavenly and it didn't take long until she found a deep, dreamless sleep.