Of Death and Fire

bishop


Author's notes: I'm late, I know. Blame it on my latest fixation with Elves.
The first part of the chapter is a fragment of an original story of mine, dealing with necromancers. It is completely fictional.
Kali, Hecate, Ereskigal: Female Deities of the Underworld (Hindu, Greek, Summerian).
Anubis, Charon, Arawn: Male Deities of the Underworld (Egyptian, Greek, Celtic).
The Ankh: The egyptian cross, a symbol of Life and resurrection.
 
 
 
CHAPTER 33: The Bishop and the Queen.
 
 
Inside the pentagram, decorated with runes and charms of protection, stands the Master Conjurer, the Head of the order. His body is wrapped in a black shroud, and the only parts of his body left uncovered are his hands and face. And these are painted with white chalk to resemble a human skeleton. In his left hand, he holds the Scythe. In his right, he holds the Ankh. He is no longer a human, but the Avatar of Death.
The initiate is brought before him, blindfolded and naked. Two Guardians stand beside him in black robes. They are Fear and Pain, enemies to mortals but to the necromancer friends and allies. Pain removes the blindfold so that the initiate will face Death; for pain accompanies all true knowledge.
"Why are you before me?" asks Death.
"To pledge my life to your service," replies the initiate.
"Whom will you serve?"
"I will serve you, my Lord and Master".
"Who am I?"
"You are the End of all things. You are the putrid matter that feeds new Life. You are the end of Pain and Fear. You are Kali, Hecate, Ereskigal. You are my Mother. You are Anubis, Charon, Arawn. You are my Father. You are Death and before you stands your servant".
"Will you follow me through Fear?"
"I will," replies the initiate, who raises his left hand to the Guardian. The avatar of Fear cuts the veins of the left hand open, allowing drops of blood to fall inside of the protective circle.
"Will you follow me through Pain?"
"I will," replies the initiate again, and the avatar of Pain repeats the procedure with the right hand.
As blood drips from the initiate's wrists, Death raises his hands, placing both the Scythe and the Ankh on the shoulders of the person before him.
"I am your Lord and Master, and I claim you by right of blood. Walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death and have no fear, for Death walks beside you. Serve me through Fear and Pain; serve me with flesh and blood. Feed my minions and I will feed you. Betray me, and suffer my wrath. For I am jealous Master; no mate or offspring should come be mee me, for these too will know my Scythe. Honour me with tokens of flesh and blood, and they will know my Ankh".
The protective spells are removed, and the spirits are free to feast on the initiate's blood.
So ends the First Sacrifice.
 
"Rite of Initiation, Black Bible".
From the Archives of the Necromancer's Guild. Reproduced with permission of the Head of the Order.
 
~*~
Seeing Severus collapsing before her eyes, Morgaine felt her heart stop. She tried to call upon her power, to focus on the fragile flame of his life, to catch his soul before it was too late. But in vain. Her Lord had abandoned her in her darkest hour. She had tricked Him twice already, and now He was demanding His long delayed sacrifice.
Oh Lord, please, not him! Please, anything else, just not him! Anything!
Morgaine's silent plea was desperate enough to reach the core of the Underworld and the Black Throne. And she felt the power flowing from her, from her blood, from her womb and inside the dying body before her. His eyelids flickered and a moan left his lips. Morgaine thought she had never heard a most joyous sound. Dumbledore, equally relieved, summoned a stretcher to carry Snape's broken body to safety.
On the banks of Lethe, Death rejoiced and his crystalline laughter made the still waters tremble. Oh, yes, He would have His sacrifice...
~*~
It was not safe to take him to the hospital wing. Instead, they carried him to the privacy of his own chambers. Dumbledore left to alert Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, leaving the unconscious Potions Master under Morgaine's care. She recalled every chant and spell she had ever known, every transition of energy to pull him out of the abyss. But her power failed her once more, as if the life growing inside her had transformed to an anchor holding her back.
And then the others came, and the Medi-Witch took over. She looked at Morgaine clearly disapproving.
"You should be in you bed, resting, and not casting energy draining spells," she said coldly.
Morgaine crossed her arms on her chest, sitting next to Snape.
"I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be and you fool yourself thinking you can convince me otherwise," she replied with her infamous stubborn attitude.
Pomfrey refused to walk down that road and proceeded in checking on Snape. After a while, she stood up frowning.
"Although I'm not happy with your presence here," she commented, "I must admit you've done a wonderful job". Now Morgaine was more confused, knowing she had done practically nothing. "All we can do now is wait. Sooner or later, he will regain consciousness". She turned to the Headmaster. "Albus, I will return to my bed, since this young lady here seems dedicated to stay at his side. However," she turned her attention to Morgaine, "I insist on being notified if there is any change".
As Pomfrey departed, McGonagall turned to Dumbledore.
"Albus, what has happened?' she inquired clearly worried. "Has he said anything about the Dark Lord?"
Morgaine turned her attention to the unconscious man beside her, having no interest in their whispers. Her heart ached seeing how pale he was, with new lines running across his forehead. He looked older, with his hair worse than usual, if that was ever possible. He shifted and moaned under her touch. With a sad smile, she thought that he would be the only person in the world sneering while unconscious. And then he trembled and moaned, making all three sets of eyes to turn and watch him with fear.
"Ten points from Gryffindor!" he hissed in his sleep, and everyone sighed in relief. Severus Snape was still among the living.
~*~
Dumbledore waved at Morgaine to approach.
"Minerva," he told the older woman, "we need to make quick arrangements to the Finals' schedule. Professor Sprout can fill in for the Potions finals, if Morgaine can help her out in herbology..." but he never finished his thought, as a grim voice came from the bed beside him.
"You will do no such thing". They all turned to see Snape sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his forehead with his left hand. "I will attend the Potions Finals even from my deathbed, if needed," he hissed. "No chance in Hell the Weasley twins will get out of it so easily. And this goes for Potter and Longbottom and a few other names that come in mind, along with that DAMNED bludger that dances in my head!" he fell back in bed with a moan.
Morgaine ran to his cupboard and searched through the vials. She took out the same potion he had once given to her for an equally splitting headache and brought it to his lips. With a groan, he emptied the vial down his throat, ignoring the fact it was at least three times the recommended dose. After a few minutes he sat up, obviously relieved.
"Thank you," he whispered to Morgaine, raising a hand to touch her face.
Dumbledore interrupted the tender moment.
"Severus, what happened?"
"Voldemort was not pleased to see me," he confessed with a grim voice. "On the other hand, he seemed to be very pleased to use me as target practice for a series of Cruciatus curses". He rubbed his forehead again. "I don't recall much of this now, but I remember Malfoy stepping in. For some reason, his intervention ended my torture. I have no idea why, but I remember the word 'elf' being mentioned". He looked at Morgaine with his eyes darker than usual. "Then he questioned me about a certain potion," he continued, glancing sideways to Dumbledore, "and I think I managed to convince him of my loyalty, providing I will present him the potion during the next death Eater meeting".
"When will that be?" asked the old wizard.
"In two weeks, at the dark of the moon," he replied in a tired voice.
"I will come with you this time," said Morgaine.
"You will certainly not!" objected Dumbledore. "I can't risk having both of you in the monster's lair. If one of you falls, the other should take his place. We have not the luxury of impulsive actions," he said firmly.
Morgaine rose and walked at him, staring at the old wizard with fire in her eyes.
"Do you think that I care?" she cried. "If he falls, as you put it, then I'll fall with him. If he dies, I have no interest in Hogwarts, in the world or in life itself! I will go with him, weather you like it or not! And if he falls, I'll make sure that before I follow him I'll take with me as many Death Eaters as I can!"
Dumbledore stepped back, shocked by her fierce response. For the second time in the last days, he feared that this was getting out of hand. Snape seemed able to control himself, but Morgaine undoubtedly had been set loose. It was time for careful planning, not for loose cannons. And he could see no way of bringing her back under his control. One false step and Voldemort would prevail. And somehow this outcome seemed to be coming real with every passing moment. He raised one hand to her face, addressing the child he once knew.
"Morgaine, listen to me," he started. But for the second time, Snape's voice cut his phrase.
"Actually, Headmaster, I think none of us has any choice over the matter," he said grimly. "The Dark Lord has specifically requested her presence at the next meeting. It seems he finally desires to meet the individual who provided the ritual of his release". Dumbledore was struck silent for the first time in years. "If I heard Malfoy words correctly, he described her as 'a fitting consort of the Dark Lord'. There is no way out of it now".
Albus Dumbledore looked from Severus to Morgaine, pain filling his heart.
 
Once more, I send my children out to die. The pieces are on the chessboard and the game is afoot.
Good luck, my children. In you, I sout out my greatest hopes: The Bishop and the Queen.