AN
Graphic description of a violent death crime scene.
Earning the M Rating here. Didn't I plan for this part to be less dark than Lemuria? Well, a certain scene in this chapter just ruined that. Whoopsie.
August 1992, summer of 1st year
There was a flash of bright light and Lynea found herself on the hard ground and feeling very sorry for her grass-stained robes.
"You rely too much on your wand," Naenia said. "Have you learned nothing from my teachings?"
Lynea tried to push herself up to her elbows, then flopped down again. "I'm trying. It just doesn't come as naturally to me as it does to you."
"I have been training you in the Old Magics from the moment you first set a foot into my house." Naenia sighed. "I don't expect you to have five decades of experience, I expect you to put my teachings to use."
"I know," Lynea said, "and I will try harder. But can I take a break first?" She turned her head to watch her grand-aunt nod and then sighed happily.
On Naenia's free days it usually went like this: In the mornings, she would train Lynea in the Old Magics and duelling, and after lunch there would be more training in the Old Magics, as well as the Forbidden Arts. On other days Lynea was expected to practice nonverbal and wandless magic on her own.
Harry rose from the garden bench he had been sitting on to watch with Theodore and came over to help Lynea up, for which she thanked him gratefully.
"Harry, would you like to give it a try?" Naenia asked softly.
Harry scratched his head sheepishly. "But I don't know anything about the Old Magics."
Naenia arched an eyebrow. "But you know how to fight, yes? As long as you don't lose your wand during the fight like my grand-niece did, you shouldn't fare any worse than her. Lynea."
Lynea turned around just in time to catch her wand out of the air and then gave Harry an encouraging smile, before walking towards the garden bench, sitting next down next to her cousin.
The duellists made quite an odd pair – Naenia in her elegant dress and artfully styled hair, no wand and no fighting stance – and Harry, a scrawny boy in the oversized, shabby hand-me-downs of his cousin (because he didn't want to ruin the robes he had been gifted by his friends and Lynea's family), wand raised at the ready.
Harry lost in under a minute. He just wasn't prepared to be attacked without warning by a person who used neither wand nor incantation and could therefore easily take you by surprise with the mere flick of a hand. To his credit, he had chosen to put up a shield right at the beginning which had saved him form Naenia's first attack and then tried his best to hold his own against the overly powerful Necromancer.
He tried for a few more times, improving the time until he was thrown to the ground, wand out of reach, with each turn.
"This might be the first time that a child other than you and me has set foot on this property," Theodore remarked.
Lynea hummed. "There might have been a sick child or two she took to her lab for treatment."
Theodore raised an eyebrow. "You know what I mean. I didn't expect your grand-aunt to ever take someone in."
"She took me and my family in." Lynea shrugged. "She would take you in, too, if you asked."
"But she didn't take you in because she cared about you, not back then. And she would only take me in because she was friends with our grandfather."
"Well," Lynea said, wondering how much she wanted to reveal to Theodore, "for now Harry is only staying over for the rest of the summer holidays – nothing special about that."
"For now?" Theodore asked.
"For now," Lynea said.
The fights gradually became shorter and shorter again as Harry grew tired and exhausted. Unlike Lynea, Harry wasn't used to any of this and had never undergone any stamina training, but he was a fairly good fighter. Lynea already knew that Harry had a talent for duelling magic from the time when the first-year Slytherins had taught each other the spells they knew, so they could defend themselves against bullies and the like. Naenia acknowledged this as well as she helped Harry up and congratulated him for putting up a good fight (for a twelve-year old boy, anyway).
Naenia put Lynea up for one more duel and then she suddenly paused.
"Children," Naenia said, "go and clean up. We have a visitor."
By the time Lynea and the others returned from their rooms, the visitor had made it all the way from the entrance to Naenia's property up to her house and been let in by the Necromancer, herself.
"Hello, father Wilson," Lynea greeted the visitor.
Father Wilson was the pastor of the local church to which the graveyard belonged that lay right next to Naenia's property. He was a wizard and the only person in the village who wasn't afraid of Lynea's grand-aunt. He might have also been the closest thing to a friend she had.
"Lynea, my dear child," father Wilson greeted back. "I hope you have been well. I see young Theodore is staying with you again. And who might this young man be?"
His eyes fell on Harry and then flickered to his scar. Harry took a small step back and to the side, so he was standing halfway behind Lynea.
Father Wilson smiled. "Why, if it isn't Harry Potter. Pleasure to meet you." He turned to Naenia. "Have you finally accepted the kindness of your heart and started taking children in out of goodwill instead of mere obligation?"
"You jest," Naenia replied dryly. "Now, what has brought you to my home?"
Father Wilson's expression turned grave. "I would like to say that I am merely visiting as a friend, but I am afraid this is more grievous than a social call." He glanced at Theodore and Harry. "Maybe it would be better if the children didn't hear this."
"We'll go," Theodore said immediately, taking Harry by the arm.
Then the two boys disappeared up the stairs, while Harry shot Lynea confused looks. Lynea thought father Wilson could have phrased that better – she was still a child, herself, after all – but from the tone of his voice, Lynea had already gathered that this was an issue meant for the Necromancers and Lynea was kind of Naenia's apprentice, so she was often allowed to listen in and accompany her grand-aunt. Father Wilson had become used to her presence a long time ago. Had he truly not wanted her present, he would have made that quite clear.
"Let us adjourn to the parlour," Naenia said, leading the way.
When they were all comfortably seated in the armchairs, father Wilson leaned forward, hands interlaced in front of him.
"A Muggle has been killed," he said, "by one of our kind."
Naenia narrowed her eyes. "In what manner?"
"Tortured to death by a lesser-known curse." Father Wilson shook his head. "They will call you in shortly, I found the body just a few villages over, but I needed to talk to you first."
Naenia raised an eyebrow.
They all knew the Necromancer was more than capable of dealing with the Muggles whenever magic was involved where it shouldn't be. If the pastor had gone to the trouble of rushing over before anyone even called for Naenia's services (he had probably apparated directly from the other village to the edge of Naenia's property), then there must be quite a bit more to this. As Naenia was the only local forensic pathologist and undertaker for several villages in the vicinity, she would certainly receive a call sooner or later. Unless someone didn't want the body to be examined and buried.
"I was filling in for father Goodwin, who had recently fallen ill," Wilson explained. "When the service was finished, I went to check on him and that was when I found the body. It was … a terrible sight to behold. No one should be mutilated like that – neither in life nor in death. I know that father Goodwin had his problems with accepting those that were different, but no one deserves such a fate." He shuddered. "May God bless his soul."
"Yes," Naenia said and Lynea thought her voice sounded frosty. "I remember his speeches about the necessity of weeding out all that is unnatural. There was an especially memorable one in which he endorsed the hunting and burning of witches."
"Do not speak ill of the dead," father Wilson said solemnly. "What he has done and said is all in the past now. I would have thought you of all people would honour everyone in death, no matter who they had been in live."
"De mortuis nil nisi bene. Über die Toten soll man nur Gutes reden." Naenia smiled eerily. "But I am one who talks to the dead. There is no difference to a Necromancer between talking about the living and talking about the dead."
Father Wilson gave her another solemn look. "And once their souls have moved on?"
Naenia's smile only widened. "We do not talk about that which comes after death. And for good reason, my dear father Wilson. Now, do describe to us exactly in what condition you have found Goodwin's body."
Lynea was not a squeamish person. In fact, she often found herself to be rather fascinated with morbid things like dead bodies – but that was only to be expected from someone with an aptitude for Necromancy. Still, the scene father Wilson described was just a bit too gruesome even for Lynea and she could perfectly understand why he had chosen to tamper with the crime scene before any of the Muggles could find it.
The first thing father Wilson had noticed had been the blood. The room he had found Goodwin in had been covered in so much blood, there probably hadn't been a single drop left in what had once been father Goodwin. The body itself had been laid out in the middle, skinned, split open right in the middle from the neck down to his crotch. His ribcage had been deformed to reveal a gaping hole where his lungs and other organs should have been. All of his inner organs had been strewn around the body, like a grotesque artwork. Bits and pieces of his flesh had hung from the ceiling, his skin hanging on the walls like tapestries.
"And his eyes," Wilson said haltingly as he closed his own. He was trembling slightly and his voice had become increasingly unsteady with each word. "His head looked bad enough without the skin, but someone had gauged out his eyeballs and put them in his open mouth from where they stared directly at the doorway." He shuddered violently and made the sign of the cross.
Lynea tried to picture the scene in her head, but she could only see it as a grotesque artwork, like Wilson had described. It might have been disturbing to most, but for her something was missing – something vital that would have made the scene truly sickening.
"You have only described what you have seen so far," Naenia said calmly. "What about the other senses – what about scent and the feel of the magic of the place? You mentioned he had been tortured to death by one of our kind, how did you draw that conclusion?"
"The … scent …" Wilson furrowed his brows. "I don't think there was any."
Yes, that was it. The scent, the smell, the sickly-sweet odour of death and decay. That was what Lynea had missed.
"I would have definitely noticed something was off before entering the room otherwise," Wilson continued, "but even when I was standing in the doorway, there was no smell at all." He put a hand over his eyes and took a deep breath. "There were no vermin, either, not even flies. It must have been the magic. The moment I opened that door … I have never been able to sense magic in the way you can, Naenia, but even I could feel the foulness of the magic that permeated that place. It made me feel even worse than what had been done too father Goodwin."
Naenia nodded. "And the curse?"
"I … After I had managed to collect myself and come to the conclusion that something had to be done, I conducted a thorough research to find out what kind of spells had been used. There were … many dark and gruesome spells that I think were all used to set up the scene the way I found it. But the one that caught my eye the most was the Mutilatio Curse."
Naenia hummed. "A classic."
"A classic?" Lynea and Wilson asked simultaneously.
Naenia tilted her head and fluttered her eyelashes in thought. "As complicated as its execution might be to those that do not remember the Old Magics, it is a favourite among those who are well-versed in the more sinister arts of magic and enjoy putting them to use in addition to academical curiosity. There have been only a few witches and wizards over the course of the last centuries who I would put into that category, but there were quite a few before the witch hunts." She paused. "On the scale of a Necromancers perspective on time, anyway."
"What does it do?" Lynea asked curiously, although she already had an idea.
"If done correctly – and it is a highly complicated spell – the curse will take the victim apart, dismember them, mutilate them, bit by bit according to the caster's wishes, while it simultaneously keeps the victim alive with magic, making sure they feel everything until the caster stops the curse. But I digress." Naenia turned to Wilson. "Is there anything else that you deem important?"
Father Wilson took a moment to think, before shaking his head. "No. I am fairly sure you could have gathered a lot more information had you been there yourself, but I couldn't risk leaving the scene like that."
Naenia smiled.
Lynea thought the expression was a bit inappropriate given the topic they were talking about, but father Wilson was most likely used to that kind of behaviour from her. She had been living here for over thirty years, after all.
"I will see for myself what I information I can gather, once I see the place," Naenia said. "You may have tempered with the scene with magic, but all magic leaves traces."
Wilson nodded gravely. "I am sure you will be able to tell more than I ever could."
"Lynea," Naenia said. "What do you make of this incident?"
Lynea blinked and then tilted her head. "It sounded like someone wanted to make an example of father Goodwin. He was very vocal about hating all 'witches' and a witch – or wizard – killed him in the most cruel way possible and then went to the lengths of presenting his death scene in an even more cruel way."
Both Lynea and Wilson jumped as one of the phones started ringing. They listened to the shuffling of feet in the hallway and then Phyllida's quiet voice as she answered it.
"I wonder whether the culprit knew …" Lynea trailed of.
Naenia smirked. "An intriguing question, indeed. We shall wait and hear what Goodwin has to tell us and then we will know whether his murderer knew he was calling Death in the territory of a Necromancer."
"Naenia?" Phyllida said from the door. "They just called in a dead body. They want you over there as soon as possible."