AN
(rubs hands) Let's get this friendship thing started, then. Anyone's got an idea how it's supposed to work?
January to August 1939, 1st year
Potions was an interesting affair, mostly because Naenia's fellow first years – with the exception of Tom Riddle – were absolutely terrible at it and tended to make a mess of even the easiest recipes you could find.
It was also interesting, because Professor Slughorn didn't really teach them anything and had them work with outdated textbooks instead. So even if her classmates had been somewhat proficient at potion brewing, they wouldn't have had a chance at producing proper results anyway, because the instructions were full of mistakes to begin with.
Naenia had no such troubles and that brought its own set of problems. Professor Slughorn was well known for having connections everywhere in the wizarding world. He collected people starting as early as their first year at Hogwarts. He didn't invite them to his special Slug Club just yet, but he doted on them all the same. It was tedious, but it had its benefits.
"Why are you doing that?" Riddle asked softly.
Naenia spared him a glance without stopping her work.
"There is a reason we're using snake fangs specifically and not just any other teeth," she said, while carving out the hollow inside of another snake fang. "Because, although they do not contain the actual venom any longer, there are still traces left on the inside."
Riddle considered this for a while, watching her work. He had already crushed his own fangs, but not put them in his cauldron just yet.
"Do different types of venomous snakes have different effects on the potion, then?"
Naenia put the last of her fangs in her mortar and started crushing them.
"Yes. This Cure for Boils won't be affected much, because it is a very simple potion with a very simple intention in mind." She was doing it more out of habit than actual necessity this time. "For the more advanced and complex potions the exact composition of the venom used is far more important."
She added the crushed fangs to her cauldron and started heating the potion.
Riddle looked at it.
Naenia followed his line of sight and realized she had forgotten to use her wand and the incantation needed to light the fire. Again.
Someone clapped. Riddle flinched. Naenia raised her head.
"Very well done, Miss Lémure," Professor Slughorn said. "Very well done, indeed."
"Sir?" Naenia asked, unsure as to what exactly he was referring to.
Professor Slughorn beamed at her. "That was an excellent display of proper understanding of the finer arts of potion making. Ten points to Slytherin."
Naenia stared at him. Wasn't this actually what he was supposed to teach them? He could get away with not covering the plant-based ingredients as they learned all about them in Herbology. But snake fangs were not plants. Nor were half of the most basic ingredients wizards used in their potions on a daily basis. And what about the tools they used? The importance of stirring and usage of the right temperature at any given moment? Or did Professor Slughorn expect them to learn that in their independent studies?
Naenia mentally shook herself and resumed preparing the carved-out venom canals as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
When the lesson was over, only Riddle and Naenia herself had managed to produce a perfect Cure for Boils each.
"This far exceeds any natural talent someone can have when it comes to potion brewing," Riddle said when they had cleaned their tools and put them away.
Naenia shouldered her bag and made sure she hadn't overlooked anything.
"My family taught me most of the things we learn at school beforehand," she said distracted.
"Then what's the point of you attending Hogwarts?"
Naenia shrugged. "Public appearance, I guess. Having someone in the school – to be on-site should anything of importance ever happen. Something along those lines. We tend to live rather secluded, but we still like to keep up with whatever is happening in the outside world."
"Especially when it's a war with a lot of deaths," Riddle murmured.
Naenia smiled. "Something like that."
There hadn't been any need for her to teach him the warding spells. She just had to show him once and he had grasped it immediately. Riddle was a natural. A Wunderkind, as she liked to call him in her head. (Or sometimes muttered under her breath in class.)
He was a sly bastard, that's what he was. And she was apparently stuck with him now.
For whatever reason he had decided they were friends now. Not that he actually knew what friends were supposed to be, or how they were supposed to interact with each other. Frankly, he didn't know anything about friendship at all. Naenia was no expert herself and didn't intend on ever becoming one, but she, at least, had a general understanding of the word and what it meant.
They were not friends. They barely knew each other, never really talked all that much and when they did, it was usually an exchange of knowledge in some form or another. There was no warmth in it. No compassion. No affection.
For all that he pretended to be a nice person and a diligent student, Riddle wasn't. He merely put on a mask and mislead others. Naenia was not fooled. She saw right through it and Riddle knew that. Why he still tried to win her over with his supposed charm, she did not know.
It came to an abrupt end one Sunday afternoon. Not their friendship – like she had said, she was apparently stuck with him now – no, the pretence.
They were exploring the castle, looking for hidden rooms and passages, trying to find every trick step in the ever-moving stairs (Naenia hated those, bloody nuisances), when Marin detected an unusual draught in the air and poked its head out of Naenia's robes.
Riddle was actually looking for the Chamber of Secrets, for some reason he hadn't told Naenia yet. She personally didn't care, she just found the castle to be very interesting and worth exploring.
Riddle glanced at the mink. "I was under the impression that only owls, cats and toads were allowed."
Naenia examined the wall to their left, carefully brushing her hand over the rough stones.
"It's not a pet," she said absentmindedly. "It's not even alive."
She found an unevenness in the magic woven into the wall and carefully felt around the stone, until she discovered a ridge and pressed down. The stone slid slightly downwards and then a small corridor revealed itself in the wall.
The two children stared at it.
Then Riddle turned to her. "Want to find out where it leads?"
The passage went straight ahead for a bit, before ending in a narrow spiralling staircase.
"Up or down?" Naenia asked.
"Up," Riddle said and up they went.
"If it's not alive, then how can it move around?"
Naenia looked at him over her shoulder. She didn't like having him at her back, but she supposed neither would he have. And, unlike him, she had Marin to warn her should he attempt any funny business.
"Magic," she simply said.
Riddle snorted. "Obviously. What I mean –"
"Is how exactly that works," Naenia interrupted him. "I'm aware."
She didn't say anything else and he didn't ask again.
When they had reached the end of the staircase, followed by another narrow corridor, they emerged behind a tapestry on one of the upper floors of the castle.
"This is the seventh floor," Riddle said, looking around. "Look! There's Barnabas."
And indeed, following the direction Riddle was pointing, Naenia could see the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.
"I wonder whether the staircase leads down to the ground floor or all the way to the dungeons," Naenia mused.
"We'll find out later," Riddle said. He walked towards the tapestry and sneered. "Teaching trolls ballet, ridiculous."
Naenia came to a stop right next to him. "That's more like it."
Riddle turned around. "What is?"
"You," she simply said.
Naenia waited.
Riddle first furrowed his brows, then smoothed them out again.
"You think most wizards are beneath you," Naenia eventually said, when it became clear that Riddle wouldn't say anything. "You certainly think even less of the Muggles. But you put on a false façade and pretend to be this brilliant but humble little orphan boy. When in reality you're actually greedy and arrogant."
His eyes narrowed. "Is that why you don't like me? Because you think I'm arrogant?"
"No. I neither like nor dislike you. What I do disklike, however, is the fact that you think you can just decide to become my friend and then don't even have the decency to be honest with me."
Riddle looked around, making sure they were still alone in the corridor. "This is not the right place for this kind of conversation. Let's continue this somewhere more private."
A door appeared behind him.
Naenia blinked. She hadn't sensed that. Granted, her seventh sense was very, very limited – with her wand restricting it for her own good – but still.
Riddle noticed her reaction and followed her line of sight. "This wasn't here before."
He strode forward and tugged on the handle. The door opened willingly. Behind it was a small, cosy room with a pair of comfortable-looking armchairs and a low table.
They looked at each other.
"Well," said Naenia. "That solves that."
"So your family has dead animals for pets?" Riddle asked when they had settled down.
A tray with a porcelain tea set appeared on the low table, but no tea or food to accompany it. Riddle frowned at it while Naenia took out her little box of tea leaves, filled the tea pot with a silent Aguamenti and lit a small fire underneath.
Riddle stared at the pot. "Why do you carry a box filled with tea leaves around?"
Naenia smiled. "A little inside joke." When the water had started to boil, she added some oolong leaves. "I'm afraid I don't carry any milk or sugar with me."
Riddle waved at her dismissively.
"I would not call them pets," Naenia said, picking up his earlier question. "They're more akin to partners. Or familiars, if you will."
"Familiars," Riddle tasted the word on his tongue. "Sounds like something traditional witches and wizards would have."
Naenia inclined her head. "One would consider our family to be one of the most traditional there is. Especially, since most of our members are more than a few centuries old at this point."
"Don't all witches and wizards live for more than a century?"
"They do." She smiled. "There's a reason the wizarding community is so behind in times. They're all traditionalists. The purebloods are, at the very least."
Riddle hummed non-committally.
Naenia poured them two cups of tea and offered one to him.
"The general wizarding populations might not look upon it very approvingly – I'd like you to keep quiet about this, by the way – but it's not like we're killing animals. We just take those that have already passed away and reanimate them."
"I suppose it comes with the whole Necromancy thing," Riddle said, taking a careful sip of his hot tea. "But still – what's wrong with pets, familiars, that are still alive?"
Naenia set her cup down. "Necromancy allows us to not only communicate with the dead, but also manipulate them, bend them to our will. With our familiars this gives us the option to link ourselves to them, share their abilities. Which is why we choose our partners carefully – each type of animal has a different set of advantages, after all.
"And it would be rather weird," she said as an afterthought, "to have real pets in a house where my brother Veiovis and I are the only living beings."
Riddle stilled. "What do you mean by that?"
"Everyone else is dead, of course."
"What? But I thought –"
Naenia, realizing what exactly she had said, quickly corrected herself, "Undead, of course. Not dead-dead."
"Undead," Riddle said blankly. "As in immortal?"
"Yes."
"Your family is immortal?!"
Naenia watched the incredulity spread over his face and frowned. "Of course they are, we're Necromancers, after all."
"Necromancy and immortality are two very distinct things."
Naenia nodded. "On their own, surely. But you have to remember, Riddle, that we worship Death. And in return, upon our own death, He grants us immortality."
Riddle gaped at her. Then, slowly, he said, "You're talking as if death were an actual person."
Naenia inclined her head. "In a way. It's not as simple as that, of course. Have you heard the Tale of the Three Brothers?"
Riddle furrowed his brows. "The children's story?"
"That's the one. There's a lot of truth to be found in fairy tales. My family, for one, firmly believes that particular tale to be mostly truth. There have been many stories about sightings of the Deathly Hallows over the years. The Elder Wand appears quite often, actually, always leaving blood and murder in its wake."
Naenia knew her voice and expressions had become somewhat dreamy, she could see it in the way the corners of Riddle's mouth turned ever so slightly downward.
"It is said to have a core made of Thestral hair," she continued. "How fitting. My own wand has one of Thestral bone."
"Your wand is –" Riddle shook his head. "Never mind that. What about the others?"
"There's the Cloak of Invisibility. Superior to normal invisibility cloaks that wear out over time. And then, of course," and here she drew in a deep breath, "the Stone of Resurrection. My family has sought after it for many centuries, but only the eldest claim to have had a glimpse of it, years and years ago. We –" Naenia stopped short.
She cleared her throat.
"Anyway. The Hallows exist. And we, the Lémures, believe that they were, in fact, created by Death rather than the three brothers themselves."
"What would happen," Riddle asked curiously, "if someone managed to assemble all three?"
Naenia shrugged, took a sip of her tea and grimaced. It had grown cold.
"As far as we know," she said, setting the cup down again, "no one ever did. Those who seek the Hallows would call such a person the Master of Death, but that is simply ridiculous. No one can master Death, because Death conquers all. Mors vincit omnia."
It was a common phrase often found on headstones, many of them in her family's cemetery.
"I thought –" Riddle stopped, then corrected himself. "Is that your family motto?"
Naenia raised an eyebrow. "It is not. Our motto is mors sacra. Death is sacred."
Which Riddle already knew, from the way he reacted – or lack thereof. He had most likely done his research about her family.
Naenia held back from furrowing her brows. If he had indeed done his research, then how come he hadn't known about their immortality?
She reheated her tea. It didn't taste quite as good as when it had been freshly brewed, but it was better than cold tea.
Their conversation drifted to less serious topics after that and when dinner-time was nearing, they gathered their belongings and left the room. The door disappeared the moment it closed behind them.
"We'll have to look into that later," Riddle said.
They took the secret passage they had discovered earlier. It did indeed lead down all the way to the dungeons.
In the end, they never talked about Riddle's behaviour. But from then on he dropped his act whenever they were on their own. Naenia even caught herself slowly warming up to him. She had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that she was starting to accept him as her friend. And, you see, being lonely was such a terrible thing, so she supposed it was quite alright. For now.
When they had to part for the summer holidays, Naenia promised to write.
AN
Are they friends now?