10 - Necromancers & Christmas
24 December 1995
Grimmauld Place
“May I ask why I have been called to the Black Townhouse on Christmas Eve, Lord Black?” Andromeda asked as she looked up at Orion.
“At the Malfoys’ Ball, Alhena started feeling dizzy towards the end of her last dance with Heirs Lestrange – around half-past midnight – and they coaxed her to eat. Around halfway through, she wrote a note to Lord Malfoy at the behest of his deceased father, and she started feeling weak shortly afterwards. She remains weak after over twenty-four hours, and it makes me concerned,” Orion explained in a rather no-nonsense tone.
“Ah, I understand now.” Andromeda was all business now. “Where is she?”
“Top floor, Regulus’ old bedroom.” Orion’s worry over his daughter was leaking into his tone, despite his best efforts.
Andromeda took notice of that, and immediately went up to the top floor, aware of Orion following behind her. She’d barely knocked when the door swung open, and both of them shuddered at the blast of icy air that greeted them. Andromeda pushed her first instinct – heading back to the relative warmth of the lower floors – back in favour of checking her patient.
Alhena was curled up in the middle of the queen-size bed, barely moving. There was a shimmering silver shield around her, nearly solid. Andromeda hesitantly cast a diagnostic spell, surprised when it passed the semi-solid barrier with no resistance. “Interesting. Intent-based, I presume?”
They were greeted by a weak laugh, but both took a step back when Alhena looked up at them. Her eyes were pure white, although there were traces of silvery-grey at the edges of where her irises were supposed to be. Andromeda plucked the sheet of parchment from mid-air the second the spell finished, scanning it. “Oh, Morgana…”
“What’s wrong?” Orion looked at the parchment over her shoulder.
“Her condition is directly tied into her status as an Honoured High Necromancer,” Andromeda tried to explain. “There isn’t much information on them, since they’re rare, but she’s essentially maturing. It’s at the third – and final – stage, since her regular eye colour is starting to return, so she’ll be back to normal by dinnertime. The frigidity in the air is a leftover from the second stage.”
“We had very little warning,” Orion muttered with a shake of his head.
“According to the information I managed to get from the Necromancers’ Alliance, the little warning you had is more than most get,” Andromeda retorted. “The only advice I have is that she sleeps the remaining eight hours off.”
“Not that hard, I was planning to anyway,” Alhena muttered. “Grandpa Arc says hello, and to please check the sixth book on third bookshelf to the right of the window in the study.” And with that declaration, she was out like a candle.
The older Blacks managed to hold in their reactions until they got to the kitchen, before both descended into disbelieving laughter, to the concern of everyone present. Dora was the first one to speak. “Mum, Uncle Orion, have you finally given in to the Black Madness?”
Both shook their heads, laughing harder, until Orion managed to calm down enough to give a very abbreviated explanation. “Alhena passed on a message from my father, and then fell asleep.”
“Uncle Arcturus is surely rolling in his grave at the sheer indignation of being called Grandpa Arc,” Andromeda said between fits of laughter.
“Her nicknames can get way worse,” Harry said between chuckles. “Marv the Elder, as an example, is her nickname for Marvolo Gaunt, since Lord Gaunt’s middle name is Marvolo as well. Or, worse, her nickname for Morfin Gaunt…”
“Oh, please don’t repeat that,” Ron slammed his hands over his ears. “He may have been amused, but my brain is not.”
“That bad?” Andromeda chuckled.
“Worse,” Hermione called from where she was seated at the kitchen table. “Arc is on par with her calling Linfred Fred or Salazar Sal. Phineas the First and Phineas the Second is funny since Phineas the First is literally the same length as Phineas Nigellus, minus the additional space. Some nicknames make absolutely no sense, such as those for the Gaunts or Raine.”
“So, it’s a 50/50 on whether or not it’s going to be funny and/or make sense?”
“Correct, Andi,” Sirius raised his glass in a mock toast. “Welcome to the madness.”
25 December 1995
Grimmauld Place
“Merry Christmas, Alhena!”
Alhena laughed as she walked into the drawing room, hugging Sirius tightly. “Merry Christmas, Sirius.”
“Don’t you celebrate Yule?” Ellen asked from the sofa.
“Yule was four days ago, we already celebrated. Christmas is just an excuse to exchange more gifts with our non-Pagan friends, or even among ourselves,” Orion said sagely from the doorway, for once dressed in pyjamas like the rest of the household. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”
“Merry Christmas, Father.” Alhena and Sirius traded looks, having said that in sync, before devolving into laughter.
“Okay, time for presents!” Sirius was like a puppy, and Alhena and Hermione giggled.
A flurry of wrapping paper, much chaos, a lot of laughter, and at least an hour later, the entire amassed group had their gifts piled around them.
Alhena had gotten numerous nonfiction books, more than a few cloaks, a box that hissed suspiciously (courtesy of Thomas), an entire boxed set of Vic Caelum’s Water and Time (which would automatically add new releases), a new potions set (Draco was apparently incredibly observant), several journals and self-inking quills, and an incalculable amount of sweets. Hermione’s pile was much the same as Alhena’s, Ron’s was sweets and quidditch things, and Harry’s was a mix of his friends’ piles. Ginny and the twins were somewhere between quidditch, sweets and pranks. They didn’t have much interest in the adults’ stuff.
Alhena looked up from where she was paging through Sands of Time when Orion called her name. “Yes?”
“This just arrived,” Orion’s voice was slightly odd. “The note was signed Heirs Lestrange, and I have it on good authority that it’s a courting gift.”
Alhena could feel her cheeks flush, holding a hand out for the gift. She was hyperaware of everyone’s eyes on her as she slowly undid the wrappings. The box was relatively nondescript, merely engraved with the Lestrange family crest, but the feel of the magic emanating from it made Alhena squeeze her legs shut. There was a note on top of it, and Alhena’s hair turned a bright pink as she read it.
‘Alhena,
Lady Peverell-Slytherin-Haydon, Heir Black-Gaunt,
Since the moment we danced with you at the Malfoys’ Ball, we knew you were the one for us. Even this negligible distance between us hurts more than words can describe. Would you allow us – damaged as we are – the honour of courting you, our fair lady? Would you allow us to earn your heart like gold?
Yours truly,
Heir Rodolphus Corvus Lestrange
Heir Rabastan Fulcran Lestrange’
“Well, with such a declaration – and the soul bond – to refuse would be foolish,” Alhena muttered, still blushing as she opened the box. The necklace settled on the velvet inside was fairly simple – but all the more extravagant for it. Emeralds and black diamonds were set in a teardrop shape in white gold, and Alhena could make out the Lestrange crest on the back of the pendant.
Harry’s “That has to be expensive!” and Hermione’s “Oh, Circe, they really are trying to win you over!” were overshadowed by Andromeda’s uncharacteristic squeal.
“What?” Alhena looked up at Andromeda.
“Rodolphus did not even put half the amount of effort into all of his courting gifts for Bellatrix combined as the brothers put into this one gift,” Andromeda giggled. “They’re serious about you. And I knew Bellatrix coveted that necklace. It’s been in the Lestrange vaults since the death of Lord Lestrange’s grandmother, and nobody has worn it since. They needed Lord Lestrange’s permission to even think of removing it from the vaults.”
Alhena started giggling, shaking her head in disbelief as she picked up the necklace. “I feel like I’m in one of those romance novels, Mione.”
“Don’t I know it, Al?” Hermione smiled. “In just 4 months, our whole lives – and senses of identity – pretty much got turned on their head, we’ve literally all but declared ourselves for the Dark, and here we are, watching a scene that we only thought possible in romance novels happen, because we weren’t Purebloods – or had an incredible amount of status – when we first heard of all this.”
Alhena chuckled, slipping the necklace on. Almost instantly, it warmed against her skin, and sent her into a fresh wave of giggles.
Harry had given the suspiciously hissing box a wary poke. “Alhena, I know you’re probably on cloud nine right now, but this box is hissing and demanding to be let out.”
“What in tarnation did Thomas send me?” Alhena finally opened the box, inhaling sharply. “Oh, no, you didn’t!” She picked up the coiled-up snake. “Hello, beautiful. What is your name?”
The small snake raised her head, scenting the air. Alhena giggled at the sight of the vivid yellow eyes, when she finally responded. “Another Speaker! You must be the one I was being gifted to.” She scented Alhena’s hand. “My name is Mintaka, what is yours?”
“My name is Alhena.” She giggled, stroking Mintaka’s scales. “Oh, my gods, she’s just too pretty!”
“Al, you know that’s a basilisk, right?” Hermione said nervously.
“I’m fully aware, Mione. I just can’t be bothered to care, she’s too pretty, gah!” Alhena giggled again, as Mintaka wrapped herself around her shoulders. “Her name is Mintaka.”
Orion just pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’s acting like Thomas did after he found Selene, Salazar’s basilisk. First and last time I heard him giggle like that.”
“Good luck separating them,” Bill said from another sofa, “the familiar bond is already solidifying.”
“May you live in interesting times,” Harry said ominously, sending everyone into fits of laughter.
“Seriously, Al, a basilisk?” Hermione shook her head. “Although she’ll be easier to hide than either Selene – who was over 60 feet long – or any male basilisk in existence, because of their plumes.”
“Small mercies, you mean?” Alhena snarked, stroking Mintaka’s scales.
“Yeah,” Hermione said with a shrug.
“Al, there’s a letter too,” Ron said as he handed it over.
Alhena opened the letter, arching an eyebrow at Thomas’ distinctive handwriting, although it was in Parselscript.
‘Alhena,
Any Parselmouth worth their ability has had at least one snake – whether as a pet or as a familiar – in their life. On my travels these past months, I came across a basilisk egg, which I obviously couldn’t pass up. When she hatched, the iridescence of her scales vividly reminded me of the way your hair looks right before it changes colour, and I knew she was the perfect gift for you. Her name is Mintaka, as she has doubtlessly told you, and I can assure you she makes for a formidable ally – despite her small size – and an even more formidable enemy – to whomever makes an enemy of you. Nagini was upset when I had to settle Mintaka in for her trip, so I hope we can introduce those two properly in the future.
Congratulations on the soul bond (and good luck with the courtship), and with the new familiar bond. Tell Orion I send my greetings.
Thomas’
Alhena laughed, conveying Thomas’ message to Orion before gently stroking Mintaka’s scales. “Best gift ever.”
“Best Christmas ever,” Hermione added.