Being out under the sun had never been much of a pleasant experience for Rhea. Before her parents, the sun was nothing more than a source of pain and a reminder that she would be forced to work on the plants outside, most of which had thorns. Britain at least was good to her, as most of her time in London was under overcast skies and cool winters, especially when the snow came and made everything so much nicer! Hogwarts had been just as good weather wise, though she could tell she was the exception. So many of her friends hated the cold, but Rhea absolutely loved it. She and Luna took advantage of the free periods before Yule to have fun in the snow covered castle and it had been wonderful.
So the fact Rhea was enjoying her time out under the sun on the River Nile was a surprise to her. Sure she was cheating, having a cooling charm enchanted into a chain on her neck, maybe she was letting a little of her Death Magic leak out and stay just on her skin (no point scaring the locals and tourists!) and said skin was suitably covered in magical Sunscreen ointments that held for 15 hours a dose, but she hadn't expected to have so much fun! The magical community in Egypt was decidedly friendly and seemed to delight in mixing ancient concepts with modern touches. Like the boat she was on. The rooms were all very close to what one expects from a non-magical cruise ship in their utilities, but the aesthetics and the furnishings were all Egyptian, as in Egypt prior to the Arabian influences.
Professor Babbling's attempts at keeping her attentive in class had left her with a near perfect understanding of Hieroglyphics which made reading the Egyptian Book of the Dead both easy and appropriate for the vacation. The magical variant of the Book held quite a bit more than Rhea expected. While there weren't any real Necromantic elements in it, the book felt like it was written by either a Necromancer or someone who learned through experiences with them. The parting rituals for family members were thoughtful and poignant, the last rites rituals were beautifully heartbreaking and the funeral processions were thorough. The Ancient Egyptians didn't treat Death as a thing to fear, it was an inevitable but important part of their lives. Death was as natural to them as the Sun setting over the horizon.
Aside from lounging on the veranda that gave her an exclusive window into the natural and manmade nature of the Nile and the endless dunes of sand beyond, Rhea had several chances to step out of the cruise boat and stretch her legs. The boat was strictly magical and would dock at magical ports both on the banks of the Nile and a few islands on the river. These places were a delight for Rhea and her parents. The food was exquisite, the ancient limestone temples literally hummed with magic like nothing Rhea or Sabrina had ever experienced, and the quiet evening really left them all feeling refreshed in the morning. Well, morning for Rhea, and lunchtime for her parents. They were taking their honeymoon quite seriously if her Mom's uneven gait was anything to go by. The smiles permanently etched on their faces at least made any mortifying thoughts worth living through. Mostly.
Rhea stretched her arms as she stepped off the cruise ramp. They had just arrived at an area just south of Elephantine Island, nearing the end of the Nile River cruise. The island they were on had a name that Rhea had difficulty translating since her ability to read Hieroglyphics didn't help with either Demotic or Coptic words. The closest translation Rhea got was Gateway Island. The place was beautiful though, the locals wearing a style of modern clothes that made callbacks to the Ancients. Her parents, trusting Rhea to be safe on her own with a disillusioned Nyx, went to seek out a place for lunch as Rhea wandered through the old sand and limestone streets, a light white scarf shielding her shoulders, neck and face from the sand and warm air.
The street reminded her of Diagon Alley or Place Cachée, at least in the off season. People moving about, buying the usual wares. She spotted a place that was catering to tourists and went inside. The place was an enchanter's dream, covered with medallions, chains and cartouches. Rhea looked around and was wondering if any of these would be nice souvenirs, though Sabrina and Sirius had been covering that. Mom was taking her duties as Lady Black very seriously. She was about to look over the table with cartouches when her eyes were caught by an odd Ankh. Most of the Ankhs displayed were gold, silver or other fine metals, but this one wasn't metal. It was black, pitch black. All along its form were inscriptions in what she could only call liquid gold, the hieroglyphics at times changing form and meaning.
"It is an odd thing when the unlikely becomes certain in one's eyes." Rhea turned around and saw the store owner, a young woman dressed in black robes, looking at Rhea with a surprised expression. The black clothes on the woman made Rhea frown in thought. While women wearing black is common among the non-magical Egyptians, it's unheard of on the magical side. Black for Magical Egyptians tends to be associated with… "I take it that Necromancers are still a rarity, even here where the craft, while not celebrated, is neither banned nor forgotten." The woman's smile confirmed it. "Indeed, young miss. Magical Egypt retains much of our ancient ways, despite the changes in our land beyond our desire to control. We will never stand in the way of the Dead and those who speak with them. Would you mind coming to the counter? It is rare for us to have a Necromancer, and while those most prepared to discuss grave matters with you arrive, will you do me the honour of designing an Amulet for you?"
Rhea thought about verifying her translated words with Legilimency but decided to trust her Familiar. Nyx silently and carefully slipped into the shop and landed on her shoulder, ready to whisk her Mistress away should it be required. The enchantress tested her magic with a rod and by placing some stones in Rhea's hand. She was practically giddy with excitement. She began to pull out carving instruments and materials, including a bar of the same black substance the Ankh she saw was made from. Her observations ended when a black cloaked man appeared at the doorway. "Maana must be quite taken with you for her to be crafting a completely new Amulet on the spot." The man bowed his head, "My name is Mahad. It is a great pleasure to meet you, Necromancer. I would ask for your name but we are willing to forgo etiquette for your safety. Would you please follow me?"
Mahad took Rhea to the outskirts of the town before taking a rarely used path into the hill. There, just at the bottom of the hill was a limestone archway guarded by two statues of Anubis. The moment Rhea crossed the threshold she knew. The entire structure was encased in Death Magic, from the stone to the flames, the place was indeed a Temple of the Dead. "I must admit, I never thought these places still existed. I imagine that is partly by design?" Mahad turned to her and nodded, "It saddens all who serve at the Temples of the Dead to see the world forget the importance of such places. Our people have spent millennia safeguarding these halls and will likely continue to do so for centuries to come. It does bring us comfort, however, when Necromancers like yourself appear in the world. While Maana completes her work and our scholars bring out some items we wish to give you, would you honour the people of this Temple?"
Rhea stared at the man and seeing no deception nodded. Mahad smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "One of our members has reached the end of his life. He has completed the parting rituals and Last Rites and has passed on. Would you honour us by bearing witness to his funeral preparations? If you are unfamiliar with our ways, we can guide you through it." Rhea thought about it and saw why they had asked it of her. "Death Magic aids in the Rituals, doesn't it? It eases the separation between body and soul and strengthens the connection of the Temple?" Mahad nodded and Rhea allowed her magic to connect with the area. It practically swooned at her. She sighed, "If the Rituals are the same as in the unedited Book of the Dead as published by your Ministry of Magic, then yes, I am familiar with it and am willing to observe." Mahad smiled, "They are the same and we are grateful for the honour, Necromancer."
After sending Mom and Dad a letter via Nyx explaining that she'd be a bit late but that she was fine and would explain later, Rhea was directed deep into the temple into what she knew was an embalming chamber. The body of an old man sat on the stone altar as the priests and embalmers got ready. Mahad had her kneel on a cushion at the head of the Altar and was asked to perform the prayer, though as she was aware of the English translation only, Rhea was relieved to be told she didn't have to speak it. Magic and intent would do the rest. For the next few hours, Rhea followed through the prayer in her mind, her magic mixing with that of the chamber and the priests. She could see the awe in their eyes as they felt every prayer conclude and the chamber would pulse with magic. Eventually, the ritual was complete and the body was ready for its funeral procession. She wrote a small prayer for the man's family in hieroglyphics on a strap of cloth and placed it on the body. The priests nodded at her for her generosity.
Rhea returned to the Antechamber of the Temple, where Maana and Mahad were waiting for her. Maana presented her with a beautiful black Ankh with hieroglyphics etched in liquid gold, though these were static. She recognized the symbols for Osiris and Anubis but was partly surprised to see the Feather of Maat and the Tyet. The young woman smiled at her, "You are a Necromancer, but also more. You carry a burden to be fair and just, despite what has been done to you. But above all, you are a Healer, of mind, body and soul. Anubis, Osiris and Isis all coexist within you. Do not believe you are doomed to one path, for you are free to decide much of what is to come. It was a pleasure to craft this for you, Necromancer, though I left it free of enchantments, as I believe your own magics to be better suited to protecting you. May the Nile see you safely home." She bowed and left.
Mahad nodded at the Ankh in Rhea's hands. "It is wise to tie that to your body via a crafted leather strap, preferably from a creature you have an affinity for. It will aid in your defence. Now to the reason I brought you here." He places a tome in her hands, its pages made of papyrus. "This is a copy of a text present in all Egyptian Temples of the Dead. We present this one to you and hope that its knowledge allows you to vanquish those who seek to flee death's touch." Rhea stilled at hearing that phrase. "You are referring to Britain's Dark Lord, currently presumed dead." Mahad's face became serious. "We both know he yet lingers, even if life currently eludes him. We believe he plans to regain a proper physical form within a year's time. Our methods of scrying fail to show us specifics but we know this much. He must be allowed to recover a proper body, and his means of cheating death must all be destroyed, regardless if they were successful or not, before he may be vanquished permanently. The book before you is written in the Script of the Dead and carries within it knowledge no other mages should know. Be wary Necromancer, for even in those you trust with your life, this knowledge should never exist in its entirety."
Rhea took the book in her hand and felt the magic in it recognize hers. She looked at Mahad, "While I won't share the means of anything I find within its pages, I need to inform my family of what it can do. I already made a mistake with information I thought they didn't need to know." Her mother's voice raised in anger at what Rhea had done something she would always regret. She never wanted to feel that pain in her heart. Ever again. Mahad saw the echo of what she felt in her face. "That is acceptable. The book itself, should you have children, must be placed in a safe location, so should one of your heirs ever have need of it, the knowledge within its pages will be close at hand." Rhea nodded as Mahad led her to the entrance. "I imagine I have given you much to think about today. Leave in peace Necromancer and know that you have friends here. May the gods of the underworld see you safely returned to your home."
Rather than return to her parents, Rhea took to the skies as an owl, followed closely by Nyx. This wasn't the first time she had done this on the trip but this time it felt like it would be the last so a time spent gliding on the warm skies of Egypt felt right. She landed on a pier close to her parents, allowing her magic to reach out to them and reassure them that she was close and safe. The sun began to set over the western horizon of Egypt, with the lush plant life of the Nile's edge vanishing into the eternal dunes of the Sahara. Rhea breathed in the air, rich in magic both manmade and natural. Now that she knew of the Temple's existence, she could feel its trace of magic in the air. It was fitting in Rhea's mind, as Egypt seemed to encompass the same dichotomy that exists within herself. Her fingers trace the black Ankh's engravings. She had a lot of studying to do and a pair of parents to meet for dinner.
"Here you are Hermione, the Potter Family Library. Try not to get lost in a book before dinner." Hermione smiled at Lily Potter. "Thanks Mrs. Potter. Oh, are there any books I should be careful with like in the Restricted Section?" Lily looked at her with some mirth, "No dangerous books here, except as a blunt weapon. And I keep telling you Hermione, you can call me Lily." Hermione blushed, "Sorry, it's just hard to break the habit." Lily nodded, "I can relate. I still catch myself whenever McGonagall asks me to call her Minerva. Take your time and remember, you can come outside and watch the quidditch nuts play if you get bored." Mrs. Potter vanishes out the door on her way to keep an eye on the kids, leaving Hermione alone.
Usually, Hermione would be thrilled to be in such a large collection of books related to magic and she was still, but she had asked to be here for a different reason. Rhea Black's words had refused to leave her mind, despite her family taking an early vacation to Spain this year. So she began to search the library, finding a lot of books from every course of study, with plenty on Transfiguration, Potions and even a few on Alchemy. She did eventually find the section she was looking for, a whole bookshelf dedicated to the Potter Family's history and traditions. She smacked her head into the table a few times. Rhea Black had been right. There was a clear history of rituals, rites and traditions going back centuries, almost none of them seemed dangerous or threatening, just a way to honour magic's gift, to reinforce the family's connection with magic and to give thanks for each season. Though the description of the Beltane rituals made her blush.
"Something troubling you, my dear?" Hermione jumped up in her seat and looked around. It took her a second to find the source of the voice. A man who looked a lot like James Potter looked back at her with some measure of mirth in his eyes. The Prankster genes must be part of being a Potter. "Sorry if I disturbed you, sir. I was just reading some information and was frustrated that this sort of thing isn't taught at school." The man nodded, "I imagine it isn't. It's been a long time since the traditions of our people were actively taught at Hogwarts. Though if Dumbledore is still Headmaster, I doubt we'd ever see a change in the curriculum." Hermione was surprised to hear that, "Well there was a change. They brought back a lot of discontinued electives. Though the Board led by Sirius Black practically forced The Headmaster to do it."
The man looked at her with surprise in his eyes. "Sirius? Our Sirius Black sits on the Board of Governors and forced Headmaster Dumbledore to reinstate the old electives?" The man proceeded to laugh full-heartedly. "Oh Dorea, I wish you had let us have a painting made of you. The look on your face if you heard your little Sirius taking on Dumbledore!" Hermione allowed the man to laugh some more before asking, "You Charlus Potter, aren't you? And why would the Lady Potter not want a portrait?" Charlus smiled at the girl. "Because my wife may have been a Potter, but she was a Black too. Portraits can be forced to reveal information the owner knew in their lifetime if asked by the Head of House. Many of the women of the House of Black who were married away never have a portrait made, to keep their secrets. They do make journals and write down things for the future members of the family, just keeping the secrets of the House of Black out of it."
The portrait pointed to a set of rows on a bookshelf behind her. Hermione leafed through the books, finding what Charlus Potter described. Journals, both from before and after her marriage to the Potter Family, a book on healing spells and practices and even some notes on magic. She had dropped one that detailed blood magic and rituals. She was picking it up when she saw that the book had split open on a page with a wizarding photograph. In it were clearly Mr. and Mrs. Potter, looking deliriously happy. Hermione's eyes flew open when she saw what they were holding. There were two babies. She turned the picture around and saw two names written on the back. Henry and Halley. "Lord Potter, did the Potter's have twins?" The portrait thought for a second, "I was commissioned after James's wedding to Lily, so it's not in my memories. But I distinctly remember Sirius coming here and telling me the Potters had twins. The boy was Henry and the girl was called Halley."
Hermione racked her head. She doesn't remember hearing anything about a sister for Henry. Even in the Modern History books that mention the fall of Voldemort and the deaths of the Lord and Lady Potter. Henry has never said anything, though he had confessed that he had wished he had a sister. That doesn't make sense. "Sir, I've never heard about Halley. Henry doesn't remember having a sister and I can't remember ever hearing James or Lily Potter talking about it." Charlus waved his hand, "I know Sirius didn't lie to me. The young man had been ecstatic. He was the girl's sworn godfather. He wanted me as a portrait to remember it because he couldn't wait to teach her how to prank her dad and brother." Hermione was confused. "Sir, Sirius Black and James Potter haven't been friends in 4 years. Or at least so I heard. He had been sent to Azkaban because people believed he killed 13 people, 12 being muggles, but he was acquitted when the killer got caught in the Potter Wards. When he got out he and Mr. Potter just stopped talking."
The portrait of Charlus Potter looked confused. "You need to understand, young lady, Dorea and I essentially raised Sirius since his 5th year. The boy was a Black, Dorea made sure of that, but he was family. He would never have broken with James. Unless…" Hermione was surprised as the portrait looked confused for a second. "Did anyone tell you why it happened?" Hermione shook her head, "No, but Rhea Black said that I shouldn't ask the Potters about it and let the adults handle it. That the Potters and Blacks were one fight away from a war." Charlus shook his head, "That's not good at all. Best do what this Rhea Black told you then. You can ask others to find out but don't ask the Blacks or Potters, it could go bad real fast." Hermione was already tucking the picture back into the journal and placing it in its slot on the bookshelf. She had a lot to think about now.
Bartemius Crouch Jr was excited. This last spring he had finally broken the Imperious his father had placed him under. He had sent his now Imperioused father back to work as he tried to find out more about his brethren. What he found had devastated him. Many of his compatriots were suffering away in Azkaban as he initially had been. The few who got away, lying about their loyalty to their Dark Lord, were now a divided and beaten bunch. The night of the World Cup had been both a coup and a disaster. The few who had banded together had managed to sow a little terror and reminded the sheep that they were still around, waiting for the Dark Lord's return. He had sneaked in and watched the chaos unfold. Stealing Henry Potter's wand and using it to cast the Dark Mark had been a stroke of genius.
Then the drunkard ranks of the Death Eaters had managed to get themselves arrested. McNair and Travers were dead, killed by Mad-Eye Moody. The man was still a terror with a wand despite the years and injuries. The rest were tried and sent to Azkaban, though under a reduced sentence. Dumbledore's conviction in granting Death Eaters chances to redeem themselves remains a boon to their efforts even now. No, the real travesties were Malfoy, Nott and Bellatrix Black. Both Malfoy and Nott defecting meant that any comeback would lack funds and political backing. The resurgent Black Family were clearly not interested in aiding the Dark Lord, though they did have a Pro-Dark agenda. Bellatrix… he would never have wished a slave contract on her. Yes, she had been devoted and powerful, but to know it had been nothing more than Rodophus putting words in her mouth made it feel wrong. His only wish was that she didn't take up arms against them, she'd be out for blood then.
What had been a positive delight and the source of Barty's excitement was slithering right in front of him. His Master's Familiar, Nagini, had delivered a message to him. From the Dark Lord. He had been pleased to hear of his survival and required Barty's services to complete his return. So Barty followed Nagini up the steps to a Manor in Little Hangleton. He followed the giant snake up to what looked to be the Manor's Study. The hissing of Parseltongue made Barty smile. He was in the presence of his master. He kneeled. He heard a chuckle, though the voice wasn't the one he was familiar with. "It fills me with delight to see that not all of my Death Eaters have fallen from our noble ranks. Rise Bartemius. We have much to do." Barty raised his head and saw why his master's voice had sounded so feminine. He was possessing a woman. Bertha Jorkins if he remembered correctly.
"My Lord?" His master's red eyes stared back at him. "Yes Bartemius, my form is not my own. That will be our primary focus for the coming year. This body will fail soon enough, but it has served its purpose. I will require your assistance in restoring me to my proper form. I have already procured the materials but for a few that must be obtained fresh. You will be in charge of securing those and safeguarding me until I am restored. One of these will be easy enough with you either Imperiousing or Impersonating your father, Crouch Sr." Barty tried to think about his father's position in the Department of International Magical Cooperation and what benefits it provided to his master. His Dark Lord saw him and decided to fill him in, "Tell me, Barty, what do you know of your father's effort concerning the Triwizard Tournament?"
Dumbledore looked down at the latest news from the organizers in charge of the Triwizard Tournament. The request for an age limit on students entering their names into the Goblet of Fire was rejected. The organizers felt that the Cup would select the best possible student to represent the schools from those who put their names into the cup, so age restricting the event would be counterproductive. He sighed. The first two years of Henry Potter's time at Hogwarts had been exactly what Dumbledore had looked for. He had received proof that Tom Riddle was still alive, seeking to return to physical form. What's more, he now knew that Tom had created Horcruxes. The diary had been too powerful to be a simple enchantment and it had taken a fang of Basilisk venom to destroy it. His diagnostics proved that the book had at one time contained a fragment of a soul.
He had hoped to discover more about Riddle's other Horcruxes as there was no chance the man hadn't created only a single one to safeguard his life. No, there were others, but where to find them? He had managed to trace the diary to Lady Rosier, who had given away many of her late husband's items after she had severed her connection to the Death Eaters and joined Lucius Malfoy's new bloc in the Dark Faction of the Wizengamot. The book being empty was the only reason she sold it to "Flourish and Blotts" who then sold it to Ginerva Weasley as a second hand diary. Dumbledore was certain good fortune had prevailed and brought the book back to Hogwarts, where young Henry had managed to defeat it. Henry Potter being a Parseltongue did make him worry but his conduct was beyond reproach.
The boy had been raised a proper Gryffindor all his life, looking up with pride at his father's strong sense of justice and incorruptible courage. The hat hadn't wavered in sending him to Minerva and her Lions. His brotherhood and shared training with Neville Longbottom serve the boy well, even if Augusta Longbottom dislikes Albus personally. Alice held no such prejudice. The two boys made good friends while at Hogwarts. Young Miss Granger's studious nature kept Henry's mind focused, while Mr Weasley grounded the boy with his friendship to a proper Light Family and ensured the boy didn't get lost in his duty as Britain's Saviour. He was convinced now he had made the right choice in picking the boy over the girl.
Halley Potter may have been Lily's daughter but her magic and appearance had been more like Dorea's. The girl would have likely fought any attempts to keep her away from the Dark Arts and the Potters would have insisted that she be taught the same as Henry. Albus did not spend the last 40 years fighting Tom Riddle's Dark propaganda and traditionalist movement only for he himself to train a Dark Lady to take his place. Dumbledore had seen no other choice but to use Riddle's presence as cover and, using a curse that had made his stomach ill with its very casting, stripped all magic from the baby girl. Lily's sister had been the perfect place to convince Lily to leave the baby. He had kept some monitors on her, just in case, but the child never left Little Whinging.
He hadn't foreseen the girl would end up dying, though fires were more dangerous to muggles than wizards. The life monitor using her blood had stopped working the night of the fire so he was certain she had passed on. He had considered informing the Potter's of the girl's death but he had noticed that none of them ever spoke of the child. It was truly for the best. He had worried for a moment though when the young Miss Black had arrived at the school, as he thought that somehow Sirius had found the previously thought dead girl, but despite the girl's Dark magic aura, his reconfigured blood monitor didn't react to the girl at all. Halley Potter was dead and Miss Black was just a new complication for him. Dumbledore had hoped that James would have successfully captured Bellatrix and he could have asked her for information about Riddle's Horcruxes. With Veritaserum, of course.
Sirius Black and his daughter, however, took all the measures they could and successfully retrieved the former Death Eater. He still had no idea how the wolf pack had been drawn to Hogwarts, as the Centaurs gave no indication of why they would be so close to the castle. The werewolf supposition did seem plausible enough. At least the children had been kept safe, even if Bellatrix escaped. He could never have dreamed that the woman had been under a slave contract. Dumbledore was glad Blood Magic was still banned or who knew how many more dreadful devices would suddenly appear. He heard grumbling about the practice being unbanned by the Wizengamot but he was certain none of the Neutrals would even consider the proposition. He was happy he had locked away all books of Blood Magic in Hogwarts. The Restricted Section didn't stop Tom Riddle, but placing them completely beyond anyone's reach would.
Dumbledore brought back his circling thoughts to the Triwizard Tournament. He knew Henry would put his name in. He was a true Gryffindor after all and Dumbledore was sure the boy would be selected. While Miss Black and the 3rd year Slytherins had proved a proper challenge to the boy's skills, his training this summer had been more intensive than before. He was sure to beat anyone who wasn't a 7th Year. Dumbledore, however, wasn't sure if his selection would mean Riddle was back or not. Had the age limit been placed and Henry's name still came out of the Goblet, Dumbledore would know for certain Riddle had been involved. No, now all he could do was wait and watch. Maybe the Quidditch competition and the ban on champions taking part will be enough to keep him from submitting his own name to the Goblet? Regardless, if Riddle intervened, Dumbledore would be ready to call back the Order to face off against the threat, Henry would defeat him and Britain's future as a Light Magical country would be assured.