Originally Posted on AO3 June 2021 to October 2021
complete in 66 chapters
Part 2 of Old Magics
Being a Slytherin wasn't always easy. Balancing pureblood politics, house rivalries and inter-house friendships with 'mudbloods and blood traitors' often made for a rather eventful school life. Being related to the most infamous family of Necromancers in Britain and a close friend of the Boy Who Lived on top of that just called for disaster.
Lynea had hoped accepting her fate and serving Death would be the end of her struggles – dealing with the living was nuisance enough. So if the rest of the wizarding world could get over themselves and start behaving like responsible adults already, instead of blotching up even the simplest of tasks (and maybe stop being so bloody afraid of Death along the way, honestly, it was just a serial killer mutilating their victims) that would be much appreciated.
AN
The kind-of sequel to Lemuria. [fanfiction net/s/14363077/1/Lemuria]
It's not necessary to read Lemuria first, but some things in the past have been changed – which will become more important in the later books.
September 1991, 1st year
It was five minutes to eleven and the platform was packed with people – parents saying goodbye to their children, friends reconciling with one another, cats running around and owls hooting at each other.
Lynea was very glad she had arrived early and reserved an empty compartment for herself at the end of the train where most people wouldn't bother her. But she still had had to find the first-year Slytherin carriage (or that of the prospective Slytherins, rather) and greet her cousin and his friends. Choco was saving her seat and Lynea trusted her cat to be smart enough not to let any unwarranted people in, so she didn't expect to return to anything but an empty compartment. Walking up and down the train had been a bother nonetheless. It couldn't be helped, purebloods were weird when it came to propriety.
She was proven wrong. There was a boy with unruly black hair standing in the door to her compartment, looking at her cat with uncertainty.
"Are you looking for something?" Lynea asked from behind him and watched the boy jump in surprise.
"Oh, sorry," he said and ducked his head. "I was looking for some place to sit?"
He had bright green eyes that were a very similar shade to Lynea's own and she could just barely see the lightning-shaped scar peeking out from underneath his dark hair. The Boy Who Lived, who would have thought?
"Go on, then," she said. "I don't mind." Lynea passed him and sat down next to Choco, who bumped her head into her hand, looking for treats for a job well done.
"Just the one," Lynea said to her. "Don't give me that look, you're big enough. Don't want you to get any fatter, now, do we?"
Choco's tail twitched at her words, but she stopped mewling for another treat. The Siberian wasn't fat, exactly – it was mostly just her long, dark brown fur making her look like that – but Lynea wouldn't chance it.
The Boy Who Lived watched her for a moment longer, before deciding that it was safe to sit with her.
"I'm Lynea Fawley," she said and extended her hand.
"Harry Potter," said the Boy Who Lived.
Then the door opened again to reveal a red-headed boy. He opened his mouth to say something, when his eyes fell on Lynea's fringe and he paled.
"Sorry, uh, I'll just –" He made a vague gesture and left.
Lynea sighed.
"Is that normal?" Harry asked.
"As normal as people staring at you in awe," Lynea replied and Harry grimaced. "The Boy Who Lived."
"I'm just me, just Harry," he mumbled.
"You didn't grow up in the magical world, did you?"
Harry shook his head. "I was raised by my aunt and uncle."
"I see. Then I should probably tell you, before you put yourself into a difficult position. So there's this old, infamous family that has a rather bad reputation, you know? They don't have anything to do with the Dark Lord – you know who that is, yes? – but most wizard and witches treat them as they would any of the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord's followers. The Lémures are known Necromancers and this," she gestured to the small white streak that divided her fringe, "is a tell-tale sign of someone who shares their blood. The Lémures aren't bad people, by any means, but most still think they are – and they won't take kindly to you associating with a Lémure."
Harry furrowed his brows. "But you said your name is –"
Lynea sighed. "It's complicated. In any case, you might want to consider sitting elsewhere."
He shook his head. "You said it yourself – that they weren't bad people. And you seem like a normal person to me. I don't see why there should be any problem. What's Necromancy, anyway?"
"Death Magic," Lynea said. "People are afraid of Death. The Lémures worship Death. Therefore, people are afraid of the Lémures."
"Ah," Harry said. "So you can make zombies?"
"What are zombies?"
"Uh, walking corpses – you know," he raised his hands in a claw-like gesture and made a growling sound, "rotting and always hungry for human flesh."
Lynea blinked. "Well, we call them Inferi. And proper Inferi look like living beings at first glance. They can also talk normally and think for themselves." She tilted her head. "I suppose the inferior version that dark wizards produce would fit your description somewhat. But true Necromancers take great care of their creations."
"O-kay," Harry said slowly.
"Necromancy is but one type of magic – there are so many different kinds, it is truly wonderful."
"I don't know anything about magic," Harry said quietly.
Lynea smiled. "That's fine. It's what Hogwarts is for, isn't it? To learn all about magic. My grand-aunt would disagree, but she's a Lémure and the Lémures still know the Old Magics."
It felt weird addressing Naenia as her grand-aunt, because – apart from her mostly white hair and her dead eyes – she appeared to still be in her mid-twenties.
"When she came to Hogwarts, she already knew everything they teach there. She said the library was worth it, though. But most people barely know anything – you aren't any worse off than the muggleborn, in any case."
Harry heaved a sigh of relief. "You mentioned some old magic?"
"Old Magics," Lynea corrected. "Magic that doesn't need a wand or incantations – the way witches and wizards cast magic in ancient times. The Lémures still practice them and powerful wizards like Professor Dumbledore or the Dark Lord are proficient in them as well. It's like accidental magic."
"Hagrid told me Dumbledore was the only person Voldemort was ever afraid of."
Lynea's lips twitched. "He was hardly afraid of the man, but he respected Dumbledore's powers, at least. And you shouldn't use his name just like that. Only those who are confident enough to face the Dark Lord in battle do."
"But it's only a name."
"It draws unwarranted attention. And it's quite ridiculous, wouldn't you agree?"
Harry blinked. "I thought it was a wizard thing."
Lynea shrugged. "We have plenty of odd terms. But the Dark Lord called himself 'Lord Voldemort' instead of whatever his real name was and that is rather ridiculous, no?"
Her grand-aunt certainly thought so. There was a story behind that which she hadn't told Lynea, but Lynea often thought Naenia must have known the Dark Lord personally.
The door was slid back to reveal a brightly smiling woman, who said, "Anything from the trolley, dears?"
Lynea shook her head, but Harry leapt up to look at the sweets she offered. When he returned, his arms were full of what looked like some of everything the trolley lady had to offer.
"You want some?" he asked.
"No, thank you. I've got some fruits."
Harry gave her an odd look.
"I don't do well with food. It's a family thing." She smiled wryly. "From my biological grandfather's side, anyway."
"Lémure?" Harry asked.
"Yeah."
"Is your biological grandpa not married to your grandma, then?"
"They didn't get the chance. Grandmother was pregnant with my father when grandfather died in the Great War. She married a Fawley so the child wouldn't be born out of wedlock and that's why my name doesn't match. Oh, be careful with those," Lynea gestured at the beans Harry was holding. "They really do have every flavour."
Harry bit into one and scrunched up his face. Lynea only laughed at him.
They had some fun with Harry selecting different colours and the two of them guessing what flavour it might be before Harry took a bite. Then the boy discovered Chocolate Frog Cards and the marvel of magical pictures.
At some point, there was a knock on the door and a round-faced boy with blonde hair poked his head inside.
"Hey, Neville," Lynea greeted him.
Neville visibly gulped. "Hello, Lynea," he squeaked. "Have – have you seen Trevor?"
She smiled gently. "I'm sorry, Neville, but we haven't seen your toad."
"I'm sure he'll turn up," Harry said and Neville left, his eyes filling up with tears.
"Poor guy," Lynea said. "Misfortune always seems to follow him everywhere."
"You know each other?"
"Most purebloods do."
The compartment door slit open again. Neville was back with a girl that had very bushy hair and dark skin. She was already wearing the school robes.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said in a bossy voice.
Lynea raised her eyebrows at Neville, who flinched and hid behind the girl.
"Sorry," Harry said, "but we already told Neville we haven't seen it."
"Have you tried asking one of the older students to perform a tracking spell?" Lynea asked. "One of the prefects might be able to help you."
The girl's eyes widened. "Oh, why didn't I think of that? Frankly, it's not like I knew such a spell existed, but it's only logical, isn't it? Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course. I mean, it's the best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard – I've learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"
Oh, goodness.
"I wouldn't call Hogwarts 'the best school of witchcraft'," Lynea began, "certainly not with Dumbledore in charge. And memorizing the school books won't do you any good if you don't understand the meaning behind what's written in them."
"Oh, no. Do you really think so? Oh, what do I do!"
Lynea sighed. "Sit down in class and listen to your teachers?"
"Oh, yes, of course. I just don't want to lack behind everyone."
"You're hardly the only muggleborn at this school. Anyway, I'm Lynea Fawley." She looked at Harry, who had followed their conversation with a bewildered look on his face.
"Harry Potter," he said, when Hermione turned to him expectantly.
"Are you really?" Hermione began and Lynea tuned her out for the next minute or so, during which Harry grew increasingly uncomfortable.
And then she left, finally.
Harry stared at the closed door. "… I'm not like that, am I?"
"What?"
He waved his hand vaguely. "All the – questions."
"It's fine, Harry. I don't mind you being curious. And you're not as overbearing as that girl was – you actually give me the chance to explain things and listen to what I have to say."
Harry nodded meekly. "Any idea what house you'll be in?"
"Slytherin," Lynea answered promptly.
Harry grimaced and Lynea immediately knew someone had told the boy about Slytherin's reputation.
"According to Hagrid there's not a single bad witch or wizard who wasn't in Slytherin. He said Voldemort, himself, was one of them."
"Eh," Lynea shrugged. "They say he was, but can't even tell you his real name – so who's to say that's actually true?"
She was fairly certain that it was, if only because grand-aunt Naenia had been in Slytherin and Lynea suspected she had attended Hogwarts with the whoever the Dark Lord had been before his appearance as 'Lord Voldemort'.
"There are bad witches and wizards hailing from other houses as well," she continued. "And we've got people like Merlin. All of my family was in Slytherin – from my mother's and my father's sides – and most of them are pretty alright."
"Only most of them?"
Lynea averted her eyes. "My father wasn't the best person to be around."
"Wasn't?"
"He's been imprisoned in Azkaban for a few years now."
"Oh," Harry said. "Sorry."
Lynea shook her head. "It's fine. I won't have to see him again. Anyway, what I was trying to say is that Slytherins really aren't that bad. It's just a bad reputation and ignorant fools pushing them into difficult positions – how would you feel if most of the school hated you, just because you were put in the house of the cunning and the ambitious? It's just a house, not a den for breeding evilness. That's like saying all Hufflepuffs are losers, while in reality they're very hard-working and loyal people. One of our Inferi was in Hufflepuff."
Lynea froze. She hadn't meant to say that last part.
She was, thankfully, saved by the door sliding open yet again, and three boys entered their compartment.
"Draco," Lynea said.
The blonde in the middle gulped. "Fawley."
Vincent and Gregory each took a step back.
Lynea rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You don't need to be scared of me just because the Lémures took us in. We've known each other all our lives."
The two boys looked at each other while Draco raised his chin.
"I am not scared of you," he said.
She raised an eyebrow. "You don't look very confident to me, either."
Draco cleared his throat. "Anyway. They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment." He turned to Harry. "So it's you, is it?"
"Yes," said Harry and looked at the other two boys.
"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," Draco introduced them, "and my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
Lynea snickered.
"What's so funny?" Draco said, before remembering who he was talking to.
"Sorry," Lynea chuckled. "It's just that you seemed so self-important when you said your name like that. As if you were trying very hard to be as imposing as your father likes to present himself. Wasn't very impressive, though, because you're just not very intimidating at all."
Draco flushed slightly, but didn't dare to answer.
Lynea sighed. "Honestly, you can snap at me all you want – I won't bite your head off."
"You'll just turn me into an Inferius."
Lynea sighed again, loudly. "I don't even know how to do that. Honestly, if you don't have anything of relevance to say, then take your little minions and leave already."
This time, he flushed more deeply. Draco took one last look at Harry, before gesturing for Vincent and Gregory to back up and then they left.
Lynea pinched the bridge of her nose. "Spoiled brat. But what can you expect – with a father like his?" She turned to Harry. "Sorry about this. He's one of the less flattering examples of a Slytherin – the kind that brought about those nasty rumours in the first place. I'm still hoping he'll grow up one day and realize he's making an utter idiot out of himself."
Harry looked like he didn't know what to make of all of this and didn't say anything.
"We're nearly there," Lynea said, looking out of the window. "Better put our robes on."
As if on cue, a voice echoed through the train, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
Lynea helped Harry put away the rest of his sweets and then they pulled on their long, black robes. She went to retrieve Choco, but the cat took one look at the crowd that had assembled in the corridors while the train had started to slow down and decided to stay with the luggage.
When they stepped outside, Lynea took a deep breath. The night air outside was nicely cold (although Harry shivered violently) and someone was shouting for the 'firs'-years'.
"All right there, Harry?" the big, hairy man said and then shouted for the first-years to follow him, so they dutifully did.
They walked down a steep, narrow path through the forest and then there was a loud 'Ooooooh!' as they rounded a corner and the castle came into view. Hogwarts sat atop a high mountain on the other side of a great, black lake – it was a magnificent castle, indeed.
Then they climbed into small boats, four at a time, and Lynea found herself next to Harry, Neville and Hermione. Once everyone had found a place, the boats started gliding across the lake. No word was spoken until they eventually came upon an opening in the face of the cliff and travelled through a dark tunnel that ended in an underground harbour.
"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" the big man said and Neville broke out into relieved tears as he retrieved Trevor from him.
And then it was time to enter the castle.