Keogh

~***~

She was sitting on a childhood merry-go-round. She could feel the textured metal surface under her hands and her back was resting against one of the tall arches designed to help little girls from flying off. The world was a blur about her because the toy was spinning.

“I’m impressed.”

Directly across from her was a woman. She had dark hair that had been braided tightly away from her face and bright, yellow-brown eyes. She wore dark jeans tucked into what looked like heavy motor cycle boots and a black shirt that fit her as though it were a size or two too small. She was squatted down on the spinning disk, one hand holding onto an arch for stability as she studied Hermione with open frankness.

“Very impressed, actually. I never would have figured it out that quickly, not going in cold like you did. Then again, math was never my strongest subject. I needed a great deal of tutoring before I was any good at it. You probably got that from Severus. Better than getting his nose.”

Hermione frowned, starting at the strange woman. The hair, the eyes, the cut of her chin. “Kathryn?”

The woman smiled and the merry-go-round stopped spinning in an instant. There was no inertia throwing her to the side and she realized it had never been spinning at all. Just an illusion. “Oh, but you are the clever one, aren’t you.”

Hermione swallowed and looked around. They appeared to be in the play park not far from her parents’ home. Why was she here? “I’m dreaming.”

“Not exactly. You are unconscious but the conversation is very much real.” Kathy stood up from her crouching position and stepped forward until she was standing in the exact center of the merry-go-round. Hermione had to pull her feet back to keep them from being stepped on. “Sorry about the pain. I didn’t realize it would hurt that much, but it was a necessary evil.”

She frowned. “They told me you weren’t a witch.”

“I’m not, but neither am I what your… what do they call themselves? Ministry of Magic? At any rate they probably wouldn’t have considered me a muggle if they’d understood my true nature.”

“Which is?”

The woman grinned down at her and extended a hand. “Walk with me.” Hermione looked at the pale, long-fingered appendage before accepting it.

Now they were walking side-by-side in a graveyard. A sharp contrast to the happy scene just before. Hermione looked around and saw head stones but the names were oddly blurred. “Where are we?”

“Inside your head, but if you’re wondering what physical location this is supposed to copy; it’s a graveyard outside of Dervish. This is where I learned you were on the way.” Kathryn frowned. “Oddly sentimental of me. I usually don’t give a damn about such things, but I always had a bit of a soft spot when it came to you.”

She found out she was pregnant in a graveyard? “I’m confused. What type of magic is this? I mean, if you’re not a witch, and if you’re dead, how are you here?”

Kathryn stepped over to perch lightly atop a tall headstone, stretching out her legs and crossing them at the ankle. “Tell me, Hermione; are you familiar with the concept of ESP? I believe Severus once called them ‘wild talents’. Apparently the Dark Lord was keeping a weathered eye on supposed muggles with unusual abilities and Severus was one of those who was supposed to be gathering information on them.”

She nodded. “It happens to wizards, too. Slytherin’s ability to talk to snakes. Some are natural shape shifters and others are born with natural telepathy.” She paused, frowning. “You were a ‘wild talent’ then?”

Kathryn gave a smirk that outdid anything Severus had ever pulled off. “That might be putting it a bit mildly. The ‘technical’ term was Necroscope, but as far as the ones who really mattered were concerned I was simply known as a ‘Keogh’. It was my grandfather’s surname, the first one to be born with the gift.”

“Necroscope? You mean like a necr…” She was cut off by Kathryn raising a hand sharply, an angry light burning in her eyes.

“Finish that thought and you will regret it.” Her voice was a cold whisper but it was nothing compared to the whispering voices that hovered in the darkness around them, buzzing like angry bees. Then, just as quickly as the anger came on, Kathryn shook it off. She other whispers quieted down as well. “At any rate, a Necroscope is nothing like a necromancer. The simplest way to explain it is a natural ability to converse with the dead, only they speak to us freely and of their own accord. A necromancer rips his answers from the grave, inflicting pain where pain should no longer be felt and defiling bodies that have earned their rest. They are filth, not even worth living. Never equate what you are with the likes of them.”

Hermione frowned. She didn’t think she liked how this ‘conversation’ was going. “What I am? But I never… other than the school ghosts I’ve never spoken to anyone… dead.”

The whispers rustled around them. They sounded almost amused. Kathryn’s expression softened slightly. “That was my doing.”

“How so?”

The woman sighed, if a dead person really could sigh, and pushed away from her stone perch. “I had not meant to get pregnant, Hermione. At least not by a man like Severus Snape. Oh, I knew I’d have to one day. The gift is genetic so I would have to one day buck up and do my duty to the family, but I had always assumed it would be with a normal person, or another ‘wild talent’ at the very least. Certainly not by a person who was a force to be reckoned with in his own right and who might pass on his own talents to the offspring.”

She looked Hermione over from head to toe. “I’m not a weak person, Kid. The dead don’t just talk to me; they tell me their secrets. If it was known by someone who had died, then it was mine for the asking.” She tilted her head to one side. “Complete this old saying: Power corrupts and absolute power…”

“Corrupts absolutely.” Hermione frowned. “You felt corrupted?”

Kathryn gave a short laugh. “There are quite a few who would answer that with a resounding ‘yes’. I usually don’t make a good impression on those who still have a pulse. But in this case it was you I was worried about. Imagine being able to know anything. To learn anything. That you are so well loved and well thought of that all you had to do was ask for it and any secret you could possibly want would be given up to you without hesitation. Now, give that privilege to someone who already has an extraordinary ability. Like… oh say… magic for example.”

The teasing light faded from her eyes and Kathryn appeared very serious. “It frightened me, knowing you were there. You couldn’t have been more than a week along and already the Great Majority sensed your presence. That’s what the dead are called, by the way. My grandfather’s idea because when you think about everyone who has ever been born, lived and died the dead outnumber the living by a fair few. Once the adrenaline rush had worn off and I was able to wrap my mind around the concept that I was pregnant, I realized that my genes mixed with Severus’ might not be the best thing for the world at large. In truth, I was afraid that I was going to give birth to a monster.”

An unexpected pain lanced through Hermione. “You… you thought I was going to be a monster. You really never did want me, did you?”

“I never wanted anyone, Hermione. Not really. And I truly was a poor choice for motherhood. By the time you came around I had very little care for the living any longer. I’d lost myself, you see. I’d spent so much time catering to the requests and desires of the dead that I wasn’t very personable. Probably the only truly motherly thing I ever did for you was to find you a proper set of parents. Had you stayed with me you likely would have grown up to be a jaded, uncaring little bitch. I don’t even want to think about what Severus would have made of you had you been left in his hands. His choice of friends left much to be desired.”

Her dream self swallowed. She pushed the feelings of bruised ego and rejection aside. “I suppose I should thank you, then, for not aborting me.”

“That was never an option. We’re necroscopes, Hermione, and you were already loved and adored by the dead. You think I wanted to spend the rest of my life with them bitching at me because I’d murdered you before you even had the chance to be born? They complained enough about my actions as it was. They didn’t agree with you being locked up like that.”

Hermione frowned. “Like what? Just what did you do to me?”

Kathryn walked around her in a slow circle. “Think of the mind like a maze of hallways. All along the corridors in the maze are doors that lead to various talents and skills. Scholastic abilities, music, even magic. Some doors are sealed shut, others open just a bit and yet others thrown wide to allow whatever is inside to flow out.

“Now, in most people a shut door remains shut. One that is open a bit might be opened wider if the person applies herself to learn. And an open door usually remains open unless someone else knows how to close it. My father had done it in the past to someone else, so I knew it could be done, and with the right help I learned the equations to make it work. Severus’ magic wasn’t mine to interfere with so I left that alone. The day you were born, however, I asked for some time to ‘say goodbye’. They left you with me long enough that I could reach inside you and shut the ‘door’ to what you inherited from me, locking it tight.”

Comprehension dawned on her. “The equations. They were arithmancy, after a fashion. They were to the… the door.”

Kathryn nodded, her smile somewhat sad. “The combination to the locks. I had hoped never to use them, but by the time you got to be around seven or eight, I’d come to the conclusion that I had no interest in going through pregnancy again. Had I lived long enough for you to finish your schooling I would have come to you in person, but I always knew there was a chance I wouldn’t make it.” She tilted her head to the side. “As luck would have it, death doesn’t automatically rule me out as a teacher.”

Had she been conscious, Hermione thought she might be ill. “I… I don’t think I want this.”

“I will admit that I am happy to hear you say that. However, it’s a little late now. You’ve undone the locks, which proves you’re clever enough to handle knowledge at any rate. And your parents are good people I was sure would raise you to be a trustworthy person. Still, if there was anyone else to pass this burden to I would have spared you. I’d wager being a witch is tricky enough.”

“You’ve no idea.”

“You’d be surprised. You think I’ve been spending my time among the dead knitting tea cozies? I’ve been doing my research. I know how those so-called ‘purebloods’ treat ‘mudbloods’.” She gave an inelegant snort, clearly less than impressed by the racial inequalities in the magical world. “It’s a rude awakening for most of them to learn that they’re all equal once their cold and six feet under. Some even learn a bit of humility.”

A weak laugh escaped her. The whispering seemed to press in on them. Hermione looked around into the blackness around the ‘graveyard’. “What is that?”

“It’s them. The Great Majority. They’re quite anxious to meet you; though I have asked them to give you time to adjust. They can be a bit much at times.”

The voices were cold, but gentle. Hermione hugged herself slightly. “How… how did you get involved with… with him?”

“You mean Severus? Oh, that was one of my more vicious moments, actually. I believe I’ve already made my opinion of necromancers clear, right?” She nodded. “Well, that racist little pig, Voldemort, had one working for him. I didn’t know all the particulars when I first learned of him, of course. I just knew that someone was disturbing the dead, causing them pain and forcing them to commit acts of murder. They couldn’t tell me who their tormentor was until he turned his skills onto another wizard. He still couldn’t tell me a name, but he did recognize that it was one of his own kind.

“I had no idea that witches and wizards existed until then, but their dead told me everything. I learned of the war and of the ‘Death Eaters’, how idiotically vain of them to go by that name, and I learned of Voldemort and his madness. I also learned of a wizard among them whose convictions might not be as strong. He was the weak link in the chain. My way to get in and identify the necromancer so I could take the bastard out.”

“Professor Snape.”

Kathryn nodded. “He had his doubts, mainly because his heart was breaking over a muggleborn witch who had gone to another after he'd let peer pressure push him into being a right utter bastard towards her. He was so wrapped up in his own feelings of self-loathing that the rest of his cronies believed he truly was just as twisted and vile as they. It took a bit of doing, he didn’t trust me at first, but after a time he was glad to have a warm and willing body who didn’t demand payment up front. I offered him physical release and someone with whom he could talk without demanding a commitment. Once I got in with him I let signs ‘slip’ to show that I wasn’t as ignorant of the magical world as a ‘muggle’ should be. I knew it was only a matter of time before the others got nervous of having me around and my target would show his hand. Imagine my surprise when he asked for the right to kill me himself. I couldn’t have asked for a better set up.”

“What… what happened?”

A cold, malicious smile crossed Kathryn’s face. “The idiot tried to send the dead against me. Wanted to scare me before he had them tear me apart. You should have seen the look on his face when I pointed out the flaw in his plan.”

“Which was?”

Kathy arched a brow. “They liked me better. Haven’t you been paying attention?” She gave a shrug. “I turned them back on him and walked away while they exacted their revenge. Right in this very cemetery. Well, the real version of it, anyway. That was also the night I learned about you and the night I walked away from my six month affair with your father. He’d served his purpose in getting me closed to the wizard. I had no further need of him.”

Hermione frowned. She didn’t think she liked this woman. She seemed cold and cruel. And she didn’t think she liked knowing all this. “What… what happens now?”

“Now? Now you wake up and continue your lessons. Learn to be a good little witch, Glenda. Now you let yourself adapt to who you truly are and work to find your own balance. I’ll be there to guide you the best that I am able, but it won’t be easy. Not by a log shot. But it’s something that must be done and I don’t know how much time you’ve got to do it.”

“Why? What’s the matter?”

Kathy’s face pulled into a frown. “Voldemort is the matter. I’ve been searching for him since my death, and I can’t find him. He’s not in here, in the grave with us. That means he’s still out there among the living somewhere, likely biding his time until he can come back. And that won’t bode well for any of us, living or dead.”

She knew this of course. They already had knowledge that the Dark Lord was trying to return.

“Oh, and Hermione?”

She looked up to find that Kathy’s face had gone cold, her expression empty. “Y.. yes, Ma’am?”

Her ‘mother’ stepped closer to her, towering over her by a good six inches, though that could easily be a trick of her dreamlike state. “Don’t think that just because I’m dead that I’m powerless. I’m still not completely certain that unlocking that door inside your mind was the wisest move, but with no one else to take my place there was little choice in the matter. I’ll be watching you, though, keeping an eye out that you don’t become the monster I was afraid you might be. And I promise you this; you fall too far into darkness and I’ll kill you myself.”

~***~