AN
A Necromancy ritual in this chapter, just as a heads-up. (It's nothing graphic.)
Oh, and –
Major Character Death and Implied Suicide.
1945 to 1953
The N.E.W.T. results held no surprises – Naenia had done best in Potions and Study of Ancient Runes and Tom had done best in everything else.
There were more weddings held over the course of the summer, connections were forged and high positions in the Ministry secured. No one talked about the inconspicuous absence of one Perseus Black and the annual ball was held just like it always had been.
What did come as a surprise, though, were news of an epic duel between Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald that ended in Grindelwald's defeat, imprisonment and the end of a long, long war. Shortly after that the Second World War was declared over as well and both the magical and non-magical world were left to pick up the pieces. The Lémures were involved in a lot of clean-up, arranging funerals and performing rituals in the honour of all that had fallen.
Naenia had promised to stay in contact with her friends and she answered all their letters, but it became increasingly difficult for her, the further she descended into the Forbidden Arts. She was not going to request for an audience with Death just yet, but the preparations were under way – and with them her perception of life and death changed ever so slowly.
There was a blood ritual that made it all the more difficult for her to keep up with the living in December of the same year she had graduated. A total lunar eclipse was not as rare to a Necromancer as it was to an average human, but it was a special event nonetheless.
The Lémures witnessed the blood moon together and then entered the North Wing, choosing one of the larger rooms used for ceremonies and group rituals.
Naenia had the honour to officiate tonight.
First, Perseus handed her an athame to cut her hand with, so she could let her blood spill on the floor – right in the middle of the rune circle – to let it follow a magical pattern to the outer circles where her parents, brother, aunt and other family members offered their own blood. She let Perseus wrap her hand in bandages, before scattering ashes and fresh earth over the blood circle, adding a few drops of purified water in the centre.
The Necromancers around her started chanting in a language long forgotten, Naenia standing in their middle, channelling the magic through her body.
When she opened her eyes, Naenia found herself in another realm where everything was dead and silent. Leafless trees rose high into a twilight sky, surrounded by dense fog and deep shadows. She took a tentative step forward and then another and then started traversing through the dead forest, where still no sounds could be heard.
Time had no meaning in this place, so she could not tell how long she had followed the invisible path when the fog cleared to reveal a frozen lake. Sharp stones protruded like pillars from the ice. On the far shore she could see crosses and headstones among a few gnarly trees and another dead forest looming behind them.
There was an arch made of stone to her right. When she stepped through, she found herself at the edge of a deep chasm in the earth, a steep and narrow slope winding down into darkness. Skeletons of various creatures perched on ledges and in small cavities, their empty eyes following her descend.
Down, down, down she went, further and further into the depths of the cold earth and silence reigned all around her.
After what could have been several days, even weeks or only mere minutes, she reached a desert. Dark and grey clouds covered the sky. Where the sky touched the sand at the horizon a forlorn city rose out of the dunes with tall, white towers painting the picture of a crown against the dark clouds.
She passed several stone formations and what appeared to be a dried oasis with cracks in the hardened ground, dry bushes and what was left of the palm trees.
The buildings of the city seemed ancient, half of them crumbled down, the rest mere skeletons of what they might have once been. There was a town square with a few lonely pillars and some pedestals. She passed under many stone arches and through the remains of houses. The palace stretched, nearly untouched, from one end of the abandoned city to the other, its highest tower expanding in the sky, so high that she could barely see its peak, more towers to either side forming what she had earlier compared to a crown.
The doors were massive and very difficult to move, but she managed to open a small space where she could squeeze through and a labyrinth of corridors revealed itself to her in the twilight gloom that consumed the land.
When she entered the throne hall, Naenia paused for the first time. Its ceilings were high, supported by several massive pillars. The room was wide and long and mostly empty save for the throne at the other end. The windows were narrow, but reached high under the ceiling, allowing a blue glow to light the hall and illuminate the runes and circles and symbols engraved into every visible surface.
Her steps echoed through the hall, the first sound she heard in this otherwise utterly dead realm, as she carefully approached the throne. There was a tall mirror embedded into the wall behind the lithic throne, its reflection showing a stone archway. It was ancient, cracked and crumbling, hung with a tattered black veil that fluttered softly with a non-existent wind.
The air was colder here, Naenia's steps echoed louder and louder and she could hear faint whispering, murmuring voices coming from everywhere at once and nowhere at all. She carefully stepped around the empty throne and closer to the ancient archway, where all the runes and shapes and symbols led, engraved into the stone and traced with blood that glistened in the blue glow.
Naenia raised her hand to the archway and her blood seeped through the bandages into the engravings.
Your time has yet to come, said the tall hooded figure on the throne.
And Naenia took her first breath in this realm and opened her eyes in the world of the living.
She took another deep breath, the air seeming almost sweet despite being underground, and centred herself. Perseus approached to change her blood-soaked bandages and led her to out of the blood circle. Her parents appraised her silently, their pleased smiles making Naenia feel proud and warm inside.
She departed from the room with Perseus at her side, leaving the others to clean up, then took the bandages off and watched the wound close itself.
"Naenia," Perseus said softly, once the door had closed behind them. "You're bleeding."
Naenia blinked at him. He slowly raised his hand to her upper lip and his fingers came away with blood. Her nose was bleeding.
"It seems," she said and felt herself sway on her feet, "I need to rest."
Ꝋ
Naenia lost a lot of time immersed in Necromancy. She measured the years by the balls she attended and the annual traditions her family upheld.
Amelia grew increasingly worried with each year, her writing becoming more and more frantic, but Naenia did not understand what upset her friend so. Nott and Lestrange reached out frequently, but they were busy with their own lives and careers – as was Tom, who had finally changed his name. He had become Lord Gaunt, a very influential person that soon had half the Ministry under his control with several familiar names like Malfoy, Runcorn and Dolohov in strategical advantageous positions.
When Naenia heard of Emery Longbottom's death, several years had already passed since the last time she had seen any of her friends. Her subsequent meeting with Amelia was as disastrous as one would expect.
Her friend was a mess. A crying mess with red eyes, a running nose and a swollen, blotchy face. Her hair was dishevelled, her mourning dress in disarray, her home untidy.
The moment the house-elf let Naenia inside, the girl launched herself at her and clung to her, breaking down in tears and heavy sobs.
Naenia did not know why Amelia had called for her. Naenia did not know how to comfort a grieving person, because Naenia did not understand the concept of grief. It seemed cruel to have her here, in this home where Amelia had lived with her beloved husband, when she could offer no sympathies for her dear friend and could do nothing to console her.
So she tried the approach Amelia had taken when Naenia had not known what to do with Perseus' death – she sat Amelia down on a comfortable couch in her living room and made her talk about it.
"He was ill," Amelia sniffled. "We didn't notice it at first, because it started very slowly. He would tire faster. He would sometimes have trouble breathing. On a few occasions his spellcasting didn't seem to work properly – small things like that. And then it became worse and worse. He grew weaker every day and there was nothing I could do. I asked every healer I could find, but no one could help us."
Another sob escaped her lips and Amelia turned her head into Naenia's shoulder, her body trembling. Naenia wordlessly pulled her into a hug and gave her the time she needed to calm down again. She didn't know what else to do. She was seriously out of her depth here.
"If only –" Amelia sniffed. "If only we had known what kind of illness it was. If only we had noticed the signs in time or – or – oh, I don't know. There must have been something we could have done, I could have done, to prevent this."
"All life must come to an end one day," Naenia said quietly. "That is the nature of the world, the endless cycle of life and death."
"I know what," Amelia wailed, then more quietly, "I know that. But it still hurts. It hurts so much." She sat up and wiped her eyes. "I – I can't bear to – But if you could – Could take a look – I –"
She shuddered and buried her face in her hands, dissolving into sobs once more.
Naenia gently put a hand on her shoulder. "If that is truly your wish then I will see what I can do."
Amelia nodded. "Could you –? I want it to be over as soon as possible. I don't want to – to keep him here any longer. I can't – I can't bear to be reminded of his death every time I pass by our bedroom anymore."
Naenia blinked. They hadn't moved his body?
They really hadn't, she realized as she looked at the figure on the bed, covered by a white shroud. It was a nice and cosy room, with a warm and homely feeling to it that Naenia could only perceive, because she wasn't disturbed by the corpse lying on the bed in the slightest.
She had found the symptoms Amelia had described to her quite peculiar and couldn't say she was surprised when she pulled the shroud back to reveal Emery Longbottom's deadly pale face.
Naenia took out her little tea box and began working through the necessary preservation spells and enchantments. When she was done, she gently touched his face and sent a silent prayer to Death.
Amelia was still curled up on the couch when Naenia returned to the living room.
"That was no illness," she said and Amelia looked up with wide eyes. "Venenum, magic poison."
"What?" Her friend's voice broke on that one word.
Naenia stood in the doorway, not wanting to sit down, and looked at her grieving friend as she contemplated her next words. There was no way around it. Amelia deserved to know the truth.
So she sighed and entered the room, taking slow steps towards the couch Amelia was sitting on.
"His magic was poisoned," she said and knelt before her friend. "It is a complicated process that is not widely known but very similar to a blood malediction. Magic flows through our veins. It is tied to our existence, inseparable. Magic is our entire being, our life. Poisoning one's magic is akin to poisoning one's body. But it is less known, less common and therefore won't be recognized by most healers."
Naenia's family was very old and well-versed in all kinds of magic, especially those that were pure and unaltered in their very nature. Only those that could sense magic itself would be able to poison the magic flowing through a living being.
In a way, one could call the magic flowing through Inferi poisoned as well – it certainly didn't mix well when in direct contact with that of a living being. But the same could be said for blood types and organ transplantations.
"If I had told you," Amelia said slowly, "and you had seen him for yourself, would you have – I mean –"
"Yes," Naenia said softly. "I would have known."
"So I condemned to his death."
"What? No, Amelia. You did everything you could to help him."
Amelia scrunched up her face in an attempt not to start crying again. "You don't need to soften the truth for me, Naenia. It is already too late for that. I made a mistake. I couldn't help him, myself, because I was powerless, and I went to the wrong people for help."
"Amelia," Naenia said, taking her friend's hands, "you went to every healer you could find. You did everything in your power to help him."
"No, I didn't! I didn't ask you!"
Amelia most likely hadn't considered asking Naenia for help, because the Lémures dealt with the dead and not the living. She had not taken into consideration that they were so old and knowledgeable that they could easily recognize most illnesses and other maladies – most of all everything to do with magic.
"I am not a healer, Amelia."
It was a tragic death that might have been prevented, but there was no use dwelling on that fact.
"So everything I did was meaningless, in the end," Amelia whispered. "His death was meaningless. All of it was meaningless." The tears threatened to spill over again. "Why did he have to die, Naenia? Why?"
Naenia softened her expression as much as she was able to. "I do not know the answer to that, Amelia. Only Death Himself can tell."
Ꝋ
Had she found her answers?, Naenia wondered as she gazed upon the two bodies lying on the stone table in her laboratory.
Did she know, now, who had killed her husband?
She hadn't even asked Naenia whether she had an idea – Naenia hadn't, not back then. But she had learned the truth when she had retrieved Amelia's body and it was only a matter of time until she would confront the culprit.
There was no one to help Naenia work through her friend's death, because it was Amelia herself who had died this time. There was no one to help her with the strange tightness in her chest and the lump in her throat, but that was fine. Death had bestowed his gift upon them and Naenia would not mourn them for that.
Amelia's eyes fluttered and Naenia sighed dejectedly when she saw that her newest attempt had not succeeded, either. They were still the eyes of a dead person.
Emery opened his eyes, moments after Amelia had sat up and started to look around. When their eyes met, a smile spread across both of their faces.
Reunited in death – how bittersweet that sounded.