December 1993, 3rd year
Everyone knew how Harry felt. They were all in a similar situation, after all. Never really having time for yourself unless you managed to find yourself in the dormitory alone. On top of that, Harry was dealing with internal struggles no one knew the nature of, because he still wasn't talking to them.
They couldn't leave Harry alone, because, as a rule, Slytherins did not walk the hallways on their own and Harry was still in danger from Sirius Black. But they could try to make it a bit more bearable and so they decided to shuffle their usual groups around a bit to form a quieter and more reserved one around Harry, consisting of Lynea, Theodore and Daphne, occasionally Blaise as well. Draco was miffed at first, but saw reason eventually. Daphne and Blaise were not happy, as they were usually either on their twosome or alone in the common room, but agreed to do it for Harry's sake.
Although Harry did not have another angry outburst, he was still silently suffering – if the dark bags under his eyes were any indication.
"Are the Wrackspurts keeping you up at night?" Luna asked during one of their study sessions.
Harry shook his head, not even mustering up a smile.
"Is it the nightmares again?" Lynea asked quietly.
"No, I – I'm fine. Just haven't been sleeping well. And I don't need any sleeping draughts, Lynea."
"Okay," Lynea said gently. "Just be aware that we are all worried about you."
Harry actually rolled his eyes at that. "Yeah. I'm acutely aware of that."
Lynea shared a look with Daphne and Blaise and decided to drop the matter, for now.
"Maybe you just need to clear your head," Luna said. "Free yourself of the Wrackspurts and any bad thoughts that muddle your mind."
"What are Wrackspurts?" Neville asked, eyeing Harry curiously as if he could see whatever Luna saw.
"They're invisible," Luna said. "They float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy."
Hermione made an odd, strangled sound in the back of her throat, but didn't raise her head from her notes, steadfastly ignoring the others as if nothing had happened.
Harry, meanwhile, laughed and something in Lynea's chest eased up. "Maybe I am infested with Wrackspurts after all."
Luna nodded seriously. "Then you know what to do."
"Clear your head," Lynea said. "Actually, that is a very good idea, anyway. Might help if you ever want to learn Occlumency."
"Occlumency?" Hermione asked, now raising her head and looking at Lynea in curiosity. "I think I read about it in a book once, but I can't remember where."
"You could describe it as Mind Magic," Blaise said. "Although it is much more complicated than that. Occlumency protects your mind against outside attacks like Legilimency. Most purebloods learn Occlumency at a young age."
"Why?"
Blaise grinned. "Why, darling – to protect our secrets, of course."
Hermione considered that for a moment. "Is Legilimency like mind reading, then?"
"In a sense," Blaise said and the two of them went down a rabbit hole of discussing Mind Magic.
Lynea let them be while she went over the second-year curriculum with Luna, and Harry worked on the homework he was lacking behind with.
o
The weather, which had been gloomy and overcast all throughout November and the beginning of December, eventually cleared up to make space for colder temperatures and the promise of snow, while inside the castle everyone was getting into the spirit of either Yule or Christmas, depending on who you asked.
Harry cheered up again and no one commented on his mood swings. He still wasn't sleeping well.
On the last weekend, right before they would all return home for the holidays, there was another Hogsmeade visit. The Slytherins used it, as did most students, to buy presents for their friends and relatives and to enjoy a relaxing day together, before splitting off for the holidays.
"What's the Minister for Magic doing in Hogsmeade?" Draco asked, watching a man with a bright green bowler hat enter the Three Broomsticks.
"Let's find out," Harry said and pushed his way through the students, not caring whether any of the others followed.
Lynea signalled for the others to go ahead without them and then entered the pub with Draco, looking around for Harry. The boy had managed to find an empty table between the window and a Christmas Tree that blocked him from the view of Minister Fudge and his companions, Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Hagrid.
Lynea ordered three butterbeers at the bar and then walked right past her teachers to join Harry, leaving Draco to carry the drinks. With a flick of her hand the tree slowly drifted a bit to the side, completely concealing their table from the Minister's. Old Magics sure came in handy sometimes.
The three Slytherins listened in silence as their teachers and the Minister ordered drinks from Madam Rosmerta, the owner of the pub. They weren't disappointed, because the conversation quickly turned to Sirius Black and the Dementors. The Minister thought Black was still in the area, the Dementors were bad for business … Ah, they were talking about Black's school years, now. Nothing new there, either. Lynea and the others had already found out about that.
"You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!" Professor Flitwick said. "Inseparable!"
Harry gripped his butterbeer so hard that his knuckles turned white and Lynea gently laid a hand on top of his. He gave her a tight smile and relaxed slightly.
They were talking about the Fidelius Charm, now.
"So Black was the Potters' Secret Keeper?" Madam Rosmerta whispered.
"Naturally," Professor McGonagall said.
Naenia had expressed her doubts about that, but it seemed as if everyone at the neighbouring table was convinced it was the truth.
"The Dark Lord had a spy in Dumbledore's ranks?" Lynea asked quietly.
"Several, actually," Draco answered. "But his followers never knew who they were – or at least never all of them at once."
"Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid exclaimed loudly and half the bar went quiet.
Lynea had to supress a laugh at his blatant disregard for secrecy. Harry would not forgive her for showing mirth in the middle of a retelling of his parents' death. Non-Necromancers were weird about Death like that. And grief. She had never understood grief entirely.
"He was there!" Harry whispered. "Black was there the night my parents were killed. I dreamt about that motorbike!"
Lynea put her other hand on the table to grab Harry's in both of hers and Harry in turn interlaced his fingers with hers, biting down on his lip. Beside them, Draco was still as a statue.
"I comforted the murderin' traitor!" Hagrid roared and all three of the Slytherins flinched.
Harry's grip on Lynea's hands tightened and now Draco motioned for him to put his other one on the table, so he could comfort Harry as well.
"Dumbledore knew he'd bin the Potter's Secret Keeper," Hagrid was saying. "Black knew he was goin' ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was a matter o' hours before the Ministry was after him. But what if I'd given Harry to him, eh? I bet he'd've pitched him off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes' friend's son! But when a wizard goes over ter the dark side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to 'em anymore …"
"That's not true," Lynea grumbled under her breath. "Dark Magic isn't evil. Why does everyone say the 'dark side' equals evil?"
"Because they are blind," Draco replied quietly. "You already knew that, Lynea."
Harry shushed them.
The Minister had brought up Peter Pettigrew, the third of James Potter's friends. The one they hadn't known the fate of. He was dead. Had died a hero's death, cornering Black and trying to get revenge for the Potters.
"Thirteen people," Lynea said, realization dawning on her face. "Twelve Muggles and one wizard. He killed one of his own friends."
Harry had begun shaking and Lynea's hands hurt, so tightly was Harry holding onto them – Draco's too. There were tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over. Yet they had to keep sitting there, waiting for the Minister to finish his talk about how unnervingly normal Black had seemed in Azkaban, asking for the newspaper so he could do the crossword – as if the Dementors weren't affecting him in the slightest.
They cut their Hogsmeade visit short as soon as they were able to get out of the pub and returned to the castle right after informing the other Slytherins. Draco called one of his family house-elves to prepare a hot chocolate for Harry, Lynea called for her cat and bundled Harry into a bunch of blankets. Then Lynea and Draco sat on either side of him, Choco purring in his lap, and pulled him into a tight embrace until the shaking stopped.
At one point Harry quietly asked for the photograph album Hagrid had gifted him two years ago and Lynea managed to summon it after a few tries.
Harry did not get any sleep that night and stumbled his way through breakfast the next morning. Draco had to pack his trunk for him, because he was so exhausted, but at least they didn't miss the train – it was a near thing, though, a very near thing.
Naenia took one long look at Harry when they arrived at her house and then took him up to his room to talk to him. When Lynea emerged for breakfast the next morning, Naenia was just leaving the room and put a finger to her lip, indicating that Harry had just fallen asleep. Lynea wondered what they had been talking about. It was obvious, of course, but she just could not imagine Naenia comforting Harry, comforting anyone. She was simply not that kind of person. She was dead, after all. The dead were always more detached from the living than anyone else.
Whatever they had talked about, it seemed to have helped Harry immensely. He was still sad and gloomy, but a heavy weight seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders. He wasn't depressed anymore, wasn't looking at the shadows as if he wanted them to swallow him whole anymore. He was even smiling a little bit when Phyllida explained some of their Yule traditions to him and gladly joined them for a walk in the forest to find a nice oak tree for the Yule Log. And when he asked the next day whether they had a broom he could use (he still hadn't replaced his broken Nimbus 2001), Lynea let herself be convinced to go flying with him.
Flying wasn't so bad. It was just the sport Lynea disliked so much. But Harry was still in the air for much longer than Lynea, flying in lazy circles as she watched him from below, sitting on the garden bench and enjoying the snow falling softly all around them.
A hand fell heavily on her shoulder and Lynea turned her head to look up at Naenia. She was watching Harry, her impassive face betraying nothing.
"You are troubled," Naenia said softly.
"Harry hasn't had an easy year so far," Lynea answered. "None of his school years have been."
"That may be true," Naenia said and let her gaze wander down to Lynea's, "but that is not what I am talking about."
"I am worried about him."
The corner of Naenia's lips quirked up. "No doubt about it. But you are also thinking about your relations to the Lémure family."
Lynea stilled.
"I understand your reluctance, my dear. We are no ordinary pureblood family and you have been raised in pureblood society, having an assigned position in the hierarchy and no means to rise any higher."
"I don't want to rise any higher," Lynea said quietly, turning away to watch Harry in the sky. "I never wanted to be of the highest social standing and then Draco went and put me there anyway."
"In the years since the last war the reputation of Slytherin House has suffered greatly. Back in my days, we were not as rigid in our hierarchy or else Tom could not have risen to the top as someone who couldn't even prove his status as a halfblood."
"It's not only at school, though. Blaise is right – I will have to decide eventually or I will cause an imbalance once we leave Hogwarts and enter the adult world."
"The Lémures are neutral in all aspects and do not partake in the politics of the world."
Yet they were regarded as the family of the highest social standing.
"But the Fawleys and Notts do," Lynea said instead.
"So be a Fawley, then. Be a Nott."
"Can I do that?" Lynea asked and looked back at her grand-aunt. "Can I be a Fawley without revoking my Lémure blood?"
Naenia looked directly back at her. "Why shouldn't you? You can do whatever you want, Lynea. But the path you wish for is not an easy one and won't be accepted by most. You have made use of the Lémure name in the past, you bear the sign of our blood, people see you and they will know you are one of us. Only officially revoking our name would entirely free you of the expectations others will undoubtedly place on you, whether you choose to be a Lémure or not."
They were silent for a while. Naenia had not taken her hand from her shoulder and Lynea could feel the heavy, golden ring even through the thick fabric of her coat. The ring-that-was-not-a-wedding-ring was undoubtedly a magical object, but Lynea had never felt any magic from it. Not even on the rare occasions she had touched it directly. But Naenia could conceal an entire household full of magic from all senses, had concealed the foul and sinister magic from Tom Riddle's Diary with just a set of runes. She had probably done the same with the ring. Lynea wondered what it meant.
"You do not want our name, yet you are reluctant to revoke it. Why is that, Lynea?"
Lynea opened her mouth to tell her grand-aunt the same things she had told Blaise – that she wasn't worthy, that she didn't want to bear all the responsibilities that came with that name. The Lémures were feared by all, shunned by most and highly misunderstood by nearly everyone who was not involved in the Forbidden Arts. The Lémures were regarded as dangerous and evil, no matter how often they proved themselves to be neutral.
Yes, the Lémure burial grounds were high in regard and, yes, they were the family of the highest social standing in Britain, because all the other bloodlines whose status had rivalled theirs had died out. But they were still feared. People were afraid of Death and, therefore, they were afraid of those that worshipped Death. The Lémures had enemies everywhere and even the occasional dead body turning up on their doorstep as some kind of convoluted message was not unusual for them at all.
"I –" Lynea took a steadying breath. "I am afraid of not meeting the expectations that come with being a Lémure. I am afraid of not being worthy of the name. I am afraid of being a weak link, because I did not grow up like you did."
There. She had said it all out loud.
"You are learning," Naenia said. "There are still lessons you have yet to truly understand, but you are already so much better than most wizards and witches can ever dream to be. Do not underestimate the sheer power even a mere fundamental understanding of the Old Magics holds."
Her grand-aunt held her eyes for several silent moments and Lynea realized she had not actually answered the question Naenia had posed. Naenia had asked why she was reluctant to revoke the name, not why she was reluctant take it. She wondered what that meant, for her, what it said about her.
"It is the other way around, then. You do not wish to revoke the Lémure name, but you are reluctant to take it for your own. Your father wouldn't have anything to do with that, now, would he?"
Lynea's breath hitched and Naenia narrowed her eyes and her grip on Lynea's shoulder tightened briefly. Damn it. Damn it all.
"Think about it carefully," Naenia said. "Do not bury those thoughts deep in your mind because they might be painful. You should have made that decision a year ago." Then she smiled one of her eerie smiles. "Yule is for new beginnings and hope, my dear."
Lynea did not sleep well that night. In fact, she did not sleep at all, opting to watch the flickering flame of the black candle in her window while Choco softly snored next to her.