November to December 1991, 1st year

There were no more attempts on Harry's life, apart from the usual attacks on the Slytherins, and the weeks went by without any major events until mid-December when the first snow fell. The great lake had frozen overnight and there was more snow all around than should have been possible for just one single night of snowfall.

Lynea was elated. And she wasn't the only one, although being compared to the Weasley twins, who were well-known troublemakers, wasn't the most flattering of comments. Her housemates now had all mastered the warming charm, because, according to them, the cold was starting to seep into their very bones, despite the fires being constantly lit in the common rooms and the Great Hall. How sad it was that they couldn't enjoy the season without chattering teeth and the fear of catching a cold …

Lynea's joy helped her deal with the constant headache that had started plaquing her at some point during November and persistently kept distracting her from her classes. She had gone to the Hospital Wing once, but Madam Pomfrey, the matron, hadn't been able to discern the cause and could only offer the short relief of a potion against pain and that wouldn't have helped in the long run.

Well, there was snow everywhere and the holidays were just around the corner. Naenia would probably be able to help her. Lynea's grand-aunt was the kind of person who knew everything and had a solution to everything and she wasn't even that old and experienced, yet. It sometimes felt like Lynea worshipping her instead of Death.

There was a small disadvantage to the cold season, apart from freezing classmates, and that was a very cold potions classroom. Potions were very sensitive to many factors, including temperature, so Lynea honestly couldn't understand why Professor Snape didn't use any warming charms on the room. But their teacher had been in such a foul mood ever since the beginning of November that she hadn't dared raising the question.

"I do feel so sorry," Draco said during one of their lessons, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays, because their parents can't provide for them at home."

Lynea blinked and looked up from her cauldron. Draco had his eyes trained on the Weasley boy, who was already very red in the face and clenching his scale so hard, Lynea was surprised it didn't break. The Weasley children would all stay at Hogwarts for a reason neither of the Slytherins cared to know about and Draco had quickly latched onto that fact to taunt the youngest red-head, who Pansy had started referring to as 'Draco's personal arch-nemesis'.

"Could you make him stop?" Harry whispered. "I don't like the way he's going after Weasley's family."

"Tell him that, yourself," Lynea replied. "Draco values your opinion."

"But what if he doesn't want to listen to me?"

"Then I can still step in and exert my power over him." Not that Lynea actually wanted to do that. She honestly didn't care about the Weasley and his family, either, but like Draco she did care about Harry and his valued his opinions.

And she supposed that she could understand Harry's point of view to an extent. The boy had been planning to stay at Hogwarts, himself, without giving it a second thought – something that hadn't escaped the others' notice – and the Slytherins had immediately protested and started discussing whose family was best suited to take him in over the holidays. No one else from their year planned to stay at Hogwarts and as per the rules they could not leave Harry on his own – especially not with what had happened during the Quidditch match. They were still none the wiser about who had tried to kill Harry, or at least harm him, and why. Most of them were convinced it was Quirrel, Harry still believed Snape to be responsible, and neither of them could think of a proper motive for either professor.

Their discussion had made Harry very uncomfortable, which they had all ignored, because this was for his own benefit and he certainly wouldn't be imposing on anyone. The Malfoys were out, because no one wanted to put Lucius Malfoy in the same room as Harry Potter and see what would happen. It was the same with the Notts, Crabbes and Goyles. The Parkinsons and Zabinis weren't the best idea, either, and Lynea didn't want to put Harry in the house of a Necromancer after what had transpired on Samhain, so the Fawleys (Notts, Lémures, whatever they actually were) were out as well.

That left their halfbloods, Millicent and Tracey – and wasn't that a nice revelation about the Slytherins? Harry had reluctantly decided to accompany Tracey home, in the end, and that had been the end of that topic.

When Professor Snape released them for the day, they found their way to the Great Hall blocked by a large fir tree.

Draco had already opened his mouth to complain, when Harry called, "Hi, Hagrid." which made him instantly shut up. Harry liked Hagrid, after all.

"You're in the way," Weasley said from behind them, seemingly annoyed.

"Can't you see the way is blocked?" Draco snapped. "Stupid weasel."

Weasley was about to pounce on Draco, when Professor Snape interrupted them.

"Five points from Gryffindor."

"But he didn't even do anything!" one of the other Gryffindors exclaimed.

"And Malfoy was the one who started it!" another one said.

"Be that as it may," Snape drawled, "fighting is against the rules. Now move along, all of you."

The Gryffindors pushed past the tree and vanished out of sight.

Hagrid poked his head through the twigs and needles and looked at them with concern in his eyes. "Yer alrigh' there, Harry?"

"I'm fine, Hagrid, thanks. How have you been?"

"Bin fine, meself, but there's bin a unicorn tha' has bin attacked by summat and I haven' found wha' did it, yet."

"Maybe it was Quirrel," Lynea mused. "Unicorn blood is said to keep you alive under any circumstances, even though the price you have to pay is very high – and Quirrel has been slowly dying for months, after all."

Harry, Draco and Hagrid were all giving her odd looks and Lynea blinked, thinking back on her words. Then her eyes widened as she realized what she had just said. "Wait, Quirrel is dying?"

"Don't ask us." Draco raised his hands defensively. "You were the one who said it."

"Tha's a very strange thing ter say," Hagrid rumbled. "Maybe the cold has bin gettin' ter yeh head."

Now, that wasn't fair. In fact, this was the first time in weeks that Lynea wasn't plagued by that persistent headache and her head felt very clear, thank you very much. But she had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that it was a very strange thing indeed, that had come out of her mouth. Probably just another one of those Necromancer things she still had so much to learn about.

"Tell yeh what," Hagrid said, "come with me an' see the Great Hall, tha' will clear yeh head."

Harry and Draco shrugged and followed him and his tree up to the Great Hall, Lynea trailing behind them. Several of the teachers had started to put the decorations up and eleven trees already stood around the hall, each covered in different kinds of decorations from classic baubles to glitter and icicles. While Lynea didn't care for the Christmas decorations, she did appreciate the holly and mistletoe hanging from the halls, which were both symbols for Yule.

"Looks a treat, don' it?" Hagrid said.

"It's amazing, Hagrid," Harry exclaimed with shining eyes.

"It's nothing special," Draco said haughtily. "You should have seen the balls my family used to host –"

Lynea huffed. "You mean the balls that they stopped hosting two generations ago?"

Draco send her a glare.

"What balls?" Harry asked.

"The Malfoy Yule Ball, of course," Draco answered. "It was an annual tradition along with the Black Ball held in summer, but unfortunately both fell victim to the … modern times. My grandfather fell gravely ill and my father unfortunately didn't have the time to continue the tradition back then. Now it is too late, because all the old traditions are starting to die."

Lucius Malfoy had been too busy fighting in the First Wizarding War. Everyone had been too busy fighting in the war. The Blacks had already interrupted their yearly schedule before, when one of their own, Perseus Black, had mysteriously disappeared and not managed to truly get back into it again, so the tradition had eventually died out. Perseus Black had told Lynea this, himself, because Perseus was one of Naenia's Inferi.

"It's sad," Draco continued, "but there's nothing we can do about it. At least we still observe the old traditions on our own."

"Righ'," Hagrid said, who they had completely forgotten about. "I'll jus' … set this up, yeah?" He slightly lifted the tree he was still carrying and then set off.

Draco watched him with a frown on his face, but visibly held himself back from making a snide comment. "We have some time left before lunch is due."

"Snow?" Lynea asked hopefully, but the looks Draco and Harry were sending her made it very clear what they thought of that. "Library?"

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. "Must you be so boring?"

"Excuse you?"

"Sorry, sorry," Draco said unapologetically. "I just mean that you are very predictable, is all."

"That doesn't make your statement any less offending, you know," Lynea replied dryly.

Harry looked back and forth between them and they both turned their attention to him. "Uhm … How about some chess?" He asked, shifting uncomfortably. "I still haven't managed to beat either of you in a match so far."

"That's because you're rubbish, Harry," Draco said. "I thought Lynea was bad at chess, but you've exceeded all my expectations – in a negative way."

Yet they still made their way to the common room, where they set up Draco's chessboard and spent the next hour or so trying to beat him in a match. But not even Harry's and Lynea's combined efforts could measure up to Draco's seemingly perfect strategies.

o

The headache, it turned out, was another Necromancer thing.

Grand-aunt Naenia took one look at Lynea when she arrived at her house with her mother, and promptly spirited Lynea away to her personal laboratory.

"You have been neglecting your use of the Forbidden Arts, haven't you?" Naenia said, setting up a cauldron and several ingredients Lynea didn't recognize. "As Necromancers, we Lémures are so closely linked to Death that we can't help it – we have to practice the Forbidden Arts. It's a compulsion we can't resist."

"Is that what I've been doing?" Lynea asked, watching her grand-aunt curiously. "Resisting the compulsion."

Naenia raised an eyebrow. "I just said that we can't resist it. You have been ignoring the gentle nudge your magic has been giving you – or you probably just didn't recognize it for what it was – and now it has turned into something less gentle."

Lynea furrowed her brows. "I never noticed my magic … 'nudging' me."

Naenia smiled, which looked both soft and wrong on her face at the same time. "You're still new to this. And being cut off from doing accidental magic likely doesn't help. In fact, because accidental magic is so closely related to the Old Magics, it was likely what helped you subconsciously deal with the compulsion so far. Here, help me mince the wormwood."

Naenia handed Lynea a silver knife and she dutifully set to work. They prepared the ingredients in silence together and then Naenia showed Lynea how and why to add them to the cauldron.

"Now slowly add the myrrh while keeping the temperature constant," she said when they were down to the last ingredient. "We want it to be just above the melting point of the resin, so that the other components won't break down. Perfect, now there is only one step left."

The Necromancer guided Lynea to stand in front of the cauldron, their entwined hands hovering above the potion. Lynea could feel the coldness of the ugly golden ring against her hand – the ring-that-was-not-a-wedding-ring, despite her grand-aunt always wearing it on the ring finger of her left hand. It was always just a bit colder than Naenia's already cold hands.

"Close your eyes and concentrate on your magic. We have practiced this often enough by now that you should be able to reach out with ease. Good. Now focus your magic into your hands and channel it into the potion. Steady, now. There you go. Well done."

Lynea opened her eyes again and saw that what had been a murky brown mixture had now become a crystal-clear liquid. She looked at her grand-aunt, who had the hint of a smile on her lips and was pulling several empty glass bottles from the shelves into which she then carefully poured the potion.

"It will be interesting to see how my Inferi react to your magic," she said. "I have only ever given them potions that I brewed on my own."

Lynea blinked. She had assumed the potion would be for her.

Naenia smiled as if she had read her thoughts, but there was no real joy behind it. "Your headache is gone now, isn't it?"

And it was indeed.

"I was wondering why you suffered through it so long, though. The nurse couldn't help you?"

Lynea shook her head.

"Even the Healers are losing their knowledge," Naenia said, her tone void of emotion.

"Did something like this ever happen to you?"

"In a way. I stopped eating for several weeks once and my magic was all over the place. The nurse noticed and took the appropriate steps." The corner of Naenia's lips quirked up. "After I fell down the stairs in fatigue and was brought to the Hospital Wing. I'm not even sure whether it was Amelia, Tom or someone else, who brought me to the Hospital Wing. I never managed to thank them for it."

Amelia was one of their three Inferi, the other two being Amelia's husband Emery and Perseus. As for Tom, Lynea had heard quite a few stories about him and the other Slytherins Naneia had attended school with, but she didn't know what had become of him. From the way her grand-aunt talked about him, it seemed likely he was dead. He was also the only one Naenia had pictures of, although they were weird pictures that looked oddly unreal.

When they returned upstairs and entered the living room, Lynea found her mother, Phyllida, sitting in an armchair in front of the fireplace, Choco curled up at her feet.

"May I have my daughter back now?" Phyllida said sardonically.

Naenia gave her one of her somewhat-genuine smiles and disappeared down the stairs again.

"Oh, she's been released?" came a voice from the door opposite to where Lynea stood and her brother Thelus poked his head into the room. "I haven't even had the chance to say hello, yet, before you were whisked off into the den of death and disease."

Lynea laughed. "I would hardly call it a 'den of disease'. Rather one against disease. Naenia helped me with my persistent headache."

Thelus fully entered the room and strode over to give his little sister a hug. "Normal-people headache or dead-people headache?"

"I'm not dead, yet," Lynea huffed.

"Dead-people headache, then. How was school?"

So Lynea sat down and told him about her first year so far. About how she had met the Boy Who Lived on the train and about classes and Slytherin House and whatever else she could think of. By the time she was finished, their Inferi had already prepared dinner for them and Naenia was waiting in the dining room with a steaming cup of tea and a story about the Hogwarts Library.

AN

Hi, Naenia