Originally Posted on AO3 March 2021 to June 2021
complete in 41 chapters
Part 1 of Old Magics
He wrote his name in the air, using his wand to produce glowing letters, then changed it from 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' into 'I am Lord Voldemort'.
This confirmed three things.
Firstly, that Tom was actually descended from the House of Gaunt and, by extension, Salazar Slytherin himself. She had suspected this ever since he had asked her about his father back in second year and then inquired about Marvolo (and then proceeded to steal her wand).
Secondly, Tom hated his name – which came as no surprise because it was so very Muggle – and wanted to change it into something… more.
And thirdly, Tom was, frankly speaking, delusional.
Naenia Proserpina Lémure was a pureblood, rich and a Necromancer.
Tom Marvolo Riddle was a halfblood at best, poor and always got what he wanted.
What Tom Marvolo Riddle wanted was respect. He wanted power. And he wanted immortality. When the chance to get all of that presented itself in one single person, there was no way he wouldn't take it.
A story about the friendship between a stoic Necromancer and a power-hungry orphan.
July to September 1938
One might say that being born into a rich, pureblood family was a privilege. Naenia didn't disagree. But when said family went by the name of Lémure, had a long history of Necromancy and worshipped Death (both the phenomena and the personification), this was not always true.
The general magical population feared the Lémure family, most even viewed them as evil, even though they had always made a point to stay neutral – one did not worship Death and commit murders in the same breath. No, not even Grindelwald with his silver tongue could convince them to partake in any kind of war. (The opposition clearly lacked conviction and well-spoken people and wouldn't have even been considered in the decision.)
Naenia was the youngest of her family and the only child. Her older brothers had already reached adulthood some years ago. The eldest, Orcus, had even been granted immortality, though he had been expected to uphold the family legacy and produce heirs. But that was beside the point.
Growing up in a household of Necromancers meant that Naenia had been taught magic from the moment she could talk, trained in the practical application the moment she had first shown signs of her heritage and introduced to the Forbidden Arts the day she turned seven. Hers had been a childhood of education and isolation. There were no children to play with – the wizarding families wouldn't let their offspring anywhere near her and God forbid she associated with Muggles.
(And wasn't that interesting? That they still used phrases like "God forbid" or "thank God", when the one they were actually worshipping was Death.)
Naenia would not admit to being lonely, because she had never learned what it meant not to be lonely. What was the point in forming friendships anyway, if they were all going to leave her sooner or later? She would, probably, be granted immortality one day, after all, and outside her family the only people known to have achieved that were Nicholas Flamel and his wife.
She didn't expect to make any friends upon entering Hogwarts for the given reasons and she wasn't bothered by it. She was more annoyed by the fact that she had to use a wand and incantations and pretend to be an uneducated little child that had no idea what it was doing. It would be so very boring. The only things she was looking forward to were the prospects of having access to a vast library and a magical castle. Although the latter would be somewhat tricky.
The Lémures trained their children the Old Magics. This meant that they had no need for wands or incantations. But this also meant that they learned to sense magic and traces of it to the point where it became a subconscious ability. Entering a castle that was basically overflowing with magic would be a nightmare. This was where the wands came in. Because, while they might not need them, the members of her family did, in fact, possess a wand each. This obviously made them less conspicuous in a public environment, but also opened the opportunity for a magical object the possession of which no one would question. And since most ordinary witches and wizards weren't able to sense magic, they wouldn't ever notice anything wrong with it.
Naenia's wand was custom made by one Herr Gregorovitch of Gregorovitch Zauberstäbe in Germany. Her mother, who had grown up in Germany and still maintained a vast network of acquaintances there, personally knew the wandmaker and his family, and could vouch for his proficiency and his silence.
„Dreißig Zentimeter", he said in German, presenting the wand to her. „Walnuss. Kern aus Thestral Knochen. Unnachgiebig."
Thirty centimetres. That would be about twelve inches. Walnut and a core made of Thestral bone. Unyielding.
Naenia accepted the wand and turned it over in her hands. It was of a lovely dark brown and had a set of runes engraved near the handle. She recognized them, because every wand in her family had them and they were one of the first runes one of her great-grandmothers had taught her about.
"Walnut?" she heard her father say. "Did I hear that right? I thought she was to have a wand made of ebony."
Most in her family had ebony wands. The black suited them and the wood's ascribed attributes fit in well.
Naenia was still tracing the runes when Gregorovitch said, in heavily accented English, "Walnut is better suited. As wandmaker I know best."
"How is it, my dear?" her mother said.
Naenia took the wand, her wand, in one hand and pointed it at nothing in particular. She pictured a majestic Thestral in her head and let her magic flow through her body and through the wand. The illusion of a small Thestral appeared at the tip of her wand. Naenia smiled.
"Wonderful," her mother said the same time her father interjected, "And the runes? Are they working?"
Naenia nodded. There was still the faint lingering of magic in the air, but it wasn't overwhelming anymore. She could still reach out and feel it, if she wanted to, but all the wands and enchantments and traces of past spells used in the shop didn't impose on her anymore.
It was a foreign feeling, being mostly cut off from sensing the magic around her, but it wasn't bad per se.
Her parents paid the wandmaker handsomely for his work and then they departed from the store. Naenia would have liked to see more of the wizarding community in Germany, but they had places to be. And there was still a war going on. Two, soon, if you believed what the Seers were predicting about the Muggle world.
After they had returned home and Naenia had retired to her room to try and find something interesting in her school books, she took her wand out of her pocket and placed it on the nightstand. Not a second later the familiar feeling of the magic all around her returned. She sighed in relief. She couldn't imagine going several months without her seventh sense, but it was better than having a constant headache, she supposed.
It was only late July and she had an entire month left, before her first year at Hogwarts began. Naenia didn't really look forward to it, but she supposed she didn't really mind going either.
Ꝋ
The Hogwarts Express was to depart form platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station in London at precisely eleven o'clock.
Her mother apparated them right onto the platform a good hour or so before the train was scheduled to leave. There were barely any people present. Naenia had read about the magical barrier separating nine and three-quarters from the Muggle part of the Train Station. Most families would bring their children through that way. She wondered how it would feel like – to walk through a seemingly solid wall. Probably not special at all, but still she wondered.
"Just a moment, dear," her mother said and produced a small wooden box from one of her robes' many pockets.
Naenia cautiously accepted it and slowly turned it over in her hands. It was the size of both her palms together, made of a smooth and dark wood and decorated with dark green ornaments.
"Go on," her mother told her. "Open it."
Naenia undid the small clasp and opened the lit. Inside, there was an assortment of tea leaves all neatly labelled and separated in different compartments. Some of these were actually poisonous plants instead of the labelled tea, Naenia noted, though not all of them. There also was a set of runes engraved on the inside walls for preservation and fresh-keeping.
She closed the lit and looked up at her mother who winked. "Because no British person should leave their home without tea."
Her mother was German and had never really understood why British people fancied tea so much. Naenia herself loved to indulge herself with handpicked blends from their personal garden, but that was beside the point. The tea box was a disguise just as much as it was a tea box.
She gratefully thanked her mother and then bid her farewell to look for an empty compartment on the train, before the main student body started to arrive.
Finding an empty compartment was not that difficult. The few people who were already there stared at her, but she didn't pay them any heed. Later, when she had stowed away her luggage and made herself comfortable, she realized why they had actually stared at her. She had worn an elegant hat matching her dress to conceal who she was from unwanted eyes, so it hadn't been that. No, it had been the fact that she, a timid eleven-year-old girl, had levitated her luggage in front of her – and without a wand or any gestures on top of that. Her parents had warned her against any displays of nonverbal, wandless magic. She had simply forgotten. But then again, how was she supposed to heave her heavy trunk into any of the carriages, when her mother had already departed and asking for help was not an option?
She just hoped it wouldn't stir up any trouble. She had concealed her identity, after all.
The train ride to Hogwarts was pleasant if uneventful. Aside from the occasional person wanting to sit with her, only to realize who she was and run out the next second, nothing much happened. Naenia took out one of her books and curled up with Marin in her lap. There was no one here to scold her for not sitting properly or allowing her undead mink to sit in her lap and she intended to take full advantage of it.
From the platform in Hogsmeade Station the first-year students were led to a big lake where tiny boats were waiting for them. They also got their first glimpse of Hogwarts. It was an impressive view, Naenia had to admit.
Judging from the reactions – or rather lack thereof – from the other children sharing a boat with her, she assumed they were muggleborn. One of them, a girl with light brown hair and a friendly face, even attempted to strike up a conversation with her.
"Are you not nervous at all?" she asked. "You seem to be so calm, while I'm barely keeping it together." The girl giggled.
Naenia looked at her blankly. "I suppose," she said eventually.
"Huh. Impressive. Do you know what's awaiting us, then? My parents didn't tell me. Mother wanted it to be a surprise, like it was for her and all that. Dad just went along with it."
Not muggleborn, then. Halfblood. With a muggleborn mother, it seemed. That gave Naenia pause. If her father, at least, had been brought up in the magical world, then surely the girl must know about the Lémures.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "How terribly rude of me. I'm Amelia. Amelia Blythe."
Blythe. Yes, Naenia knew that name. They were somewhat pure in their blood. Not exactly pure – and this girl was the living proof of that – but pure enough to be aware of Naenia's family and to warn their children against them.
"Naenia Lémure," she said, clipped, watching the girl's reaction carefully.
She nodded.
She nodded.
She even smiled.
Naenia stared at her in disbelief. She prided herself to be a fairly good judge of character – and this girl was nothing, if not friendly and kind-hearted and would most certainly land in Hufflepuff.
"I had suspected," Blythe said and ducked her head. "With the white hair, you know? My father – uhm – well – to be honest, he said to keep away from the likes of you. Bad people, he said. Doing evil things and so on."
Of course he had.
"But I don't think he can just judge you like that, if he doesn't even know you! So you don't have to worry. I don't mind at all." Blythe beamed at Naenia. "Let's be friends."
Bloody Hufflepuff.
Naenia did not return her smile. "I do not think that would be a very good idea."
Blythe's smile fell. "Why not? I really don't care about your reputation, honest."
Naenia supressed a sigh.
She turned away from Blythe and faced the underground harbour they had just reached.
The girl didn't try to talk to Naenia again, but kept giving her sideway glances all the way throughout the castle. Until they finally entered the Great Hall, where she was too distracted by the students and decorations and – oh, the ceiling! Even Naenia craned her neck to get a better look at it. She considered deactivating the runes on her wand to get a better feeling for the magic placed upon it, but thought better of it. Maybe when she was older and better at sorting through the different flows in magic-crowded places like this.
The sorting ceremony was just like her elder brother had described it. There was a stool placed between the teachers' table and the four house tables with an old, ragged hat on it.
Naenia didn't pay much attention to the actually sorting.
Blythe was sorted into Hufflepuff.
When her own name was called a sudden hush fell over the hall. Naenia could feel the stares of hundreds of students boring into her.
The hat didn't even say anything to her, just yelled "Slytherin!" and that was that.
She was a bit disappointed, to be honest, but not overly surprised.
She knew the way to the Slytherin Common Room. She knew how to get inside – not the password itself, of course, until the prefects told them. She knew what she had to expect – the rough stone walls, the green lamps, the fireplaces, and most importantly – seeing the murky green waters of the lake behind the windows. She knew the rules. She knew what the dormitories looked like.
Orcus had told her all of this in great detail.
It was nice to finally see it in person, and impressive too, yes, but Naenia had never been one to get overly excited over anything that wasn't related to, well, Death.
The girls she had to share her dormitories with regarded her with furtive glances, but otherwise didn't acknowledge her. They didn't object when she took the bed furthest away from the door and nearest to the windows.
Naenia unpacked her luggage and then cast the precautionary spells Orcus had advised her to use. She could hear the girls whispering. There would be dead mice in their beds later. Or rats, if Marin could find some.
And she wouldn't even have to lie about not being the one who had put dead mice in their beds. Or killed them, for that matter. Marin would do all the work – the mink wouldn't kill the mice either, mind you. It would go looking for some that were already dead. Had Naenia been allowed to buy herself a cat, she could have just sent it to hunt. Cats hunting mice was natural and therefore not against the rules. Undead mink didn't need to hunt and taking a life before Death planned to take it was not something a proper Necromancer did. One did not steal from Death. (Though Death would claim them all the same.)
Naenia wondered how often she would have to remind her dormmates why exactly they were supposed to be afraid of her. She hoped one time would be enough to last for the next seven years. She didn't have the patience to deal with children trying to bully her into submission. They would be civil to her, because they were well-bred purebloods, and they would not try any schemes, because she would show them that they did, in fact, have a reason to be afraid of her.
That was how it went with them. Being a Lémure meant being feared. Being feared meant being respected by the adults who knew better, but subjected to pranks or maybe the occasional open bullying by adolescent brats. Those who were stupid enough to think they could get away with it, at least. Naenia expected most of the students to be on the more reasonable side of respecting her, but better to make sure her dormmates were put in place regardless.
When she went to sleep that night she did not dream, but wandered the corridors in the body of an undead mink searching for mousetraps.
AN
Regarding Naenia's view on blood purity – the Lémures might be outcasts, but they're still purebloods. The purest, really. (Though not part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, for several reasons.) They are, however, more of the observant kind, rather than the discriminating one – more on that in later chapters.
And Hufflepuffs are precious. They can be quite badass, too – I should know, I'm living with one. Amelia kinda comes across as a stereotype, I think, but we don't really know her yet and, sadly, we won't until much later in the story…
I hope this gave you some insights on our little Necromancer protagonist. Naenia is quite aloof. No surprise, given her childhood, I'd say. Probably makes her a bit difficult to sympathise with, but what can one do.