AN
Be prepared for a family of Necromancers in the second half of this chapter and the next one, with all that might entail.
Description of an autopsy.
Though not as graphic as some things I have planned for much later in the story. (Whenever that'll be.)
December 1939 to July 1940, 2nd year
They didn't talk to each other until Christmas Eve. Which was rather fitting, as that had been the day Tom had decided to approach her just one year ago.
The castle had been decorated a few weeks prior – with garlands of holly and tinsel, candles and mistletoes (Naenia always made sure to remember their locations and sidestep them carefully), and several Christmas trees for the Great Hall. Naenia hadn't paid much attention last year – Christmas had never really mattered to her all that much – but this time it was an anniversary of sorts. Tom was, after all, still her first friend. And that was something very special.
That didn't mean she would approach him to mend things. That was entirely up to him. He had been in the wrong, not Naenia.
She wondered how he would address the matter. Naenia was fairly sure he wouldn't give up their friendship just like that – there was still so much knowledge he could gain from her. (Which didn't sound very nice, now that she properly thought about it, but in the end she didn't really care.)
Using his public persona wouldn't work on her. She would have liked him to be truly humble and modest, the nice and charming little boy he was pretending to be. But then they wouldn't have become friends in the first place.
The incident with her wand had taken place in late November. The apology came one month later in the form of a Christmas present, given to her personally by Tom, himself.
She had been reading in the common room late into the evening as she often did, Marin curled up in her lap, when Tom approached her and silently put a little parcel in front of her. Naenia looked up from her book, first at the parcel and then at Tom. He gave her a tentative smile in response.
Wordlessly, she marked her page and set the book down, before picking up his present. Underneath the simple brown wrappings was a nondescript black jewellery box. Did he think he could buy himself an apology? How did he even get this, being the poor orphan that he was? Surely, he didn't steal it?
Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she actually opened the box.
Inside was a necklace made of silver chain links and attached to it a perfectly round pendant made of bone. She carefully lifted it up to examine it closer. She recognized the runes engraved in the pendant. They were identical to the ones featured on her wand.
"It was wrong of me to take what is rightfully yours," Tom said softly. "I wouldn't have kept it, though. I would have given it back, I swear."
"Thievery," Naenia said, neither tearing her eyes away from the pendant, nor bothering to keep the edge out of her voice, "is considered to be a felony for a very good reason." She locked eyes with him and let him see the steel in her gaze. "Whether or not you were going to give it back was never the point. Taking another person's property, no matter who they are, without their consent is wrong, Tom."
Tom's expression hardened. "You sound like our 'dear Professor Dumbledore'."
"I hate having to agree with Professor Dumbledore, but I must, in this case."
Naenia swept her thumb over the runes. He had put a lot of effort into carving them correctly and arranging them the right way. Purely from memory no less – because she was absolutely certain they couldn't be found in any books Tom had access to.
She sighed. He still hadn't apologized.
"Is it not to your liking?"
"It is a very thoughtful gift," she said, still running her thumb over the pendant.
"But it's not enough," Tom observed.
Naenia just looked at him wordlessly.
She could see the moment he realized what it was that she actually wanted from him. She wasn't sure whether that was good thing or a bad thing. Because the apology that came next actually seemed genuine, but with Tom you could never be sure about those things.
In the end, it didn't matter whether it was genuine or not. Because Tom was Naenia's friend and she had known from the start what kind of person he really was. And she did like him, although she would never admit that out loud, most certainly not anywhere he could possibly overhear.
To show Tom that she had indeed forgiven him, Naenia gave him an ancient tome about runes on his birthday. Neither of them celebrated their birthday, as they both didn't really see any sense in doing so, but this was a special occasion. It wasn't actually a tome about those specific runes that had started this whole mess, but she knew he valued it anyway – if the way he devoured it immediately and could be seen with it quite often afterwards was to be any indication.
Time flew by fast after that, and uneventful, too.
During the easter holidays they had to choose new subjects for third year, but there wasn't really much to decide.
"I'm contemplating whether it would be worth the additional O.W.L.s to subject myself to Divination and Muggle Studies." Tom wrinkled his nose. "Divination, really?"
Naenia shrugged. "There are true Seers out there. I don't know about the one teaching at Hogwarts, but it is the same as with Necromancy – if you don't have the gift, then there's just nothing you can do about it. Except learning the theory, but why bother?"
"Definitely not worth it then. Do you think they would allow me to take the exams for Muggle Studies without attending any classes?"
"Maybe. But I'm not sure it would be that easy."
Tom arched an eyebrow. "I was raised by Muggles."
"I am aware," Naenia replied dryly. "But this is a subject taught by wizards and wizards have some rather convoluted views on Muggles. It's why they're screwed whenever they have to interact with the non-magical world." She shook her head. "Idiots, the lot of them."
Tom gave her a funny look. "Why would you say that? We don't even need the Muggles. We're better than them."
"I can agree with you on that last one, but we do actually need the Muggles. Otherwise our whole economy would collapse. Wizards aren't the brightest bunch, sometimes." It seemed like Tom wanted to argue further, so Naenia quickly continued, "You're taking Care of Magical Creatures, then? Apart from Arithmancy and Study of Ancient Runes."
The latter two she was planning to attend herself.
He nodded. "I assume you won't?"
Naenia grimaced. "Living, breathing beings."
Tom only laughed at that.
They spent the last term in relative peace until summer approached.
Tom didn't want to go back to the orphanage, which came as no surprise at all. Only, this year the prophesied war had actually begun and was threatening to spread over the country. Tom's orphanage was located in London, the capital and largest city and very likely target for any large-scale attacks, should the Germans decide to make their move. It was the reason she had asked for his part in the initial deal that had started their unlikely friendship.
Which made it difficult for her to see him so terrified at the prospect of going back. This was beyond him 'being special' and 'being above the other orphans'. This was genuine fear at the prospect of dying. And Naenia might not have been able to understand the fear of death, but she did understand the concept of fear itself. And the very valid arguments against him facing moral peril. She didn't quite like the idea of losing her first friend so soon.
Tom did not ask for her help. He never would.
But as they were riding in the carriages that would bring them to Hogsmeade Station where the train waited to return them to a London under threat, Naenia couldn't help but contemplate his situation while she was watching the Thestrals pulling them through the rain.
Platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station would be perfectly safe, of course, but the same couldn't be said about the rest of the city. (Not that the wizards ever cared.)
Ꝋ
The Lémure estate was located somewhere in the countryside with a hill in the centre overlooking a cemetery on one side and a huge forest on the other.
The cemetery was perfectly normal, used for magical and non-magical folk alike, with a funeral parlour right next to the official entrance that belonged to the Lémures just like the cemetery did.
The forest, on the other hand, was not, by any standards, normal. One could call it an 'Enchanted Forest' and wouldn't even be totally wrong about that. The Lémures' herd of Thestrals lived in that forest along with many other magical creatures, surrounded and protected by many spells and charms and enchantments to make sure neither Muggle nor witch or wizard could access it without the family's explicit permission.
Their house, obviously, was on the top of the hill in the centre. It was divided into the South Wing where the general living quarters were located, where the family and non-existent guests slept and dined and went about their daily lives (or existences, in the case of the undead members). And then the North Wing, where the servants rested and the family practiced their Necromancy. The North Wing could only be accessed through a hidden entrance in the library and was, of course, off-limits to anyone who didn't belong to the family – if someone like that were to ever set foot in their house. No one had in years.
Naenia decided to change that.
She knew it wouldn't be easy, but she was determined to try, at the very least.
She first brought it up during one of her lessons with her aunt Lethis.
Lethis was showing Naenia how to properly dissect a human body to gain access to all the vital organs that needed to be enchanted and infused with magic to make the most convincing Inferius out of it. And without harming any more tissue than necessary.
Naenia had already had her lessons on normal autopsy, done to gain general insights on how a body worked, how it was affected by illness and disease, what caused its death, et cetera.
Necromantic autopsy was not that different, but it needed a lot more precision and dexterity. The incisions were easy. They hadn't moved on to the more oddly shaped individuals yet, but Naenia was quite confident she would be able to find the right positions with ease by now. Accessing the vital organs without further harming the body, however, was more complicated.
For the brain she needed to cut open the skull, make sure the bone didn't splinter so that she could merge it without any visible cracks or slight deformations afterwards. The brain itself was a very delicate issue. The more precise the magic the more alive the Inferius. And this was one of the many things that distinguished a skilled Necromancer.
Then there were the other organs, hid behind the ribcage, that needed to be prepared so the body would not rot and decay.
There was, overall, a lot of magic involved. Any average wizard or witch could create an Inferius, but only a Necromancer could produce one that seemed almost alive, acted almost alive and did not wither away over time without constant maintenance. The Lémures' Inferi were autonomous creatures that were able to think for themselves. The same could not be said for any Inferi the general wizarding population usually encountered when one of their own decided to dabble into the Forbidden Arts (and succeeded, to an extend).
"And this boy that you speak of is muggleborn?" one of the elders overseeing her lessons asked.
Naenia thought of most of her family members simply as 'elders', because she honestly couldn't be bothered to learn their names when there were so many and they usually didn't even use their names anymore, anyway. Or leave the North Wing, for that matter. Although some of them were permanently living in the forest, tending to the plants, creatures and enchantments.
Naenia didn't bother looking up from her work. They would only chastise her for not paying proper attention – even though there was hardly anything to do wrong with magically emptying a dead person's bowels.
"Halfblood, presumably," she said.
"Halfblood?" a thin, female voice said.
"Oh, grandmama," aunt Lethis interjected, "don't be like that."
"Back in our living days," the elder said with a glare to Naenia's aunt. "Our kind did not soil themselves with their kind."
Naenia could only roll her eyes at that.
"All are equal in death," aunt Lethis said, which effectively shut them up.
But it didn't solve the matter of whether or not they would let Tom stay over during the rest of summer. In fact, the argument continued well into July when the Luftschlacht um England, the Battle of Britain, had already begun and threats of bombings were hanging over their heads.
"We were promised information," Orcus, Naenia's oldest brother, said when she brought up the matter once again. "How will he be able to provide those when he is living with us instead?"
"He won't be able to provide us with any information," Naenia replied sharply, "should he die in a bombing."
"If he dies, we can just make an Inferius out of him," Veiovis said with a glance to the servants who were bringing in their afternoon tea. "Then send him back without having to worry about him dying again."
There was a sharp intake of breath.
"Surely you are joking," their mother said in a dangerously low tone.
Turning children into Inferi was forbidden. There were, after all, rules to abide by, especially for Necromancers who often wandered into dangerous territory whenever they dabbled with actual Death Magic. Death was sacred and as such to be respected. This, for one, included a rule against murder. And children were taboo.
Naenia's father turned to his daughter. "If this is truly important to you, my dear, then we shall invite this boy to stay with us over the summer. But he will have to be taught the rules and he will have to abide by them at all times, is that understood?"
Naenia inclined her head. "Of course, father."
She did not run from the dining hall to compose a letter for Tom and she certainly did not show any signs of anticipation or, God forbid, childish displays of restlessness.
But she was tempted to.
And she did visit the Owlery down by the forest after their meal was finished.
AN
Naenia and her family's relationship with death sure makes things difficult sometimes...