Not Dead Yet

1990 October

"Are you two planning on celebrating Samhain this year?" Charlotte asked a few days before the event in question. Leoen and Alana looked up at the same time.

"I was planning to do it alone as usual," Leoen replied. Like Alana, he too had a dorm room to himself for such activities.

"I've never celebrated before." All three of Alana's friends' heads snapped in her direction.

"Seriously? I thought you'd be the type," Lola piped up. She shrugged casually. Alana wasn't sure what that meant but hoped it to be a compliment.

Samhain, or Halloween as the muggles called it, was a seasonal festival observed by most magical creatures. It was a Sabbat to honour one's ancestors, celebrate the end of harvest, and observe the cycle of life and death. The event was very spiritual as it occurred when the veil between worlds was at its thinnest. That was the main reason she had avoided the celebration in the past years. Considering her patron's personality and previous interactions with her, she wasn't eager to tread too close to the being.

"The older years hold a small ritual for those who still follow the Old Ways if you're interested in starting." Alana smiled at Charlotte and accepted the invitation. 'What's the worst that can happen?' Leoen opted out as he preferred a more private ritual.

Alana spent the next few days reading up on the Old Ways. She'd finally sorted out her MindScape with Capricorn so her thoughts were flowing far easier. There were very few books on the subject in the Hogwart's library but she found an abundance of them in those she had taken from her home. The Apuseni had been generous in giving her the books. She also anonymously owl ordered some more books on pureblood etiquette from the publishers of some of the incomplete volumes she had. She'd rather not be lumped in the same group of uncultured swine most muggle-borns were.

October 31 came soon enough and she found herself sitting on a cushion in the Ravenclaw common room when the sun set at 4:50 pm. A respectful silence hung in the air within the two rings of seated magicals. Half of the room had been cleared of all furniture where they were seated and an altar was placed in the centre. It was covered with wilting vines, skulls, apples and dark bread. Symbols of the harvest and death.

The eldest present was the one to light the three candles on the altar. These were meant to guide the dead. She bowed her head in memory of her ancestors before she spoke, "With this first candle we light the way for those who have come before us. With this second candle, we light the way for those who are here with us today. With this third candle, we light the way for those who will join us in the future." The girl poured a goblet of wine and placed it beside the meal. "With this meal, we give thanks for the harvest." The bread was passed around the circle where everyone took a piece and ate. A few clapped their hands in prayer after they ate and Alana did the same.

The Old Ways were pagan with multiple deities existing to govern the world of magic. First and foremost was Lady Magic. Many also believed in Life, Death and Fate. Those were the main four but there were an array of smaller deities that were worshipped. Artemis the Hunter was the patron of Werewolves and the goblins were said to receive the patronage of Morrigan the War goddess. Most vampires considered themselves forsaken or cursed by the Gods as they were the living dead.

Alana closed her eyes and envisioned those she had lost. Her father, her mother, Azrael. She silently thanked the deities for the shortness of that list when she herself had reaped thousands. She envisioned those she had struck down so mercilessly. She remembered their faces clearly. The Wallachia vampires, Nicholas Borges, and so many more. She had accepted their blood on her hands when she had taken the jobs. Life and death. This was the cycle of being. She opened her eyes as the speaker began her chant in low Latin. She spoke of the need to honour one's ancestors and beseeched the deities to aid her in her goal. She finally switched to English.

"With my magic, I beseech thee, patron of mine Lady of Magic."

"With my magic, I beseech thee, patron of mine Lady of Fate."

"With my magic, I beseech thee, patron of mine Lady of Magic."

"With my magic, I beseech thee, patron of mine Lord of Flame."

The chant went around the circle and one could feel the energy in the room increase as it did. The voices became almost musical in their quality with lilting syllables that hummed in the air. Alana's voice joined the mixture. There was only one deity she would call on regardless of their disposition.

"With my magic, I beseech thee, patron of mine Master of Death."

It was a domineering title that suited the creature who had so callously wielded her soul. She felt a shiver of approval that she wasn't sure was entirely her own. Death had no master but himself but he would accept an acolyte. He would accept her soul freely given. Alana barely noticed the magic in the air thicken as the ritual neared its end. She was lost in the p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e that thrummed beneath her skin. It was magnificent. It was surreal. It was...Ding!

Her eyes snapped open with awareness and her raging aura snarled against its shackles before she pinned it into submission.

Notification: You completed a ritual!

Reward: Magical power increased by 50% (duration: 7 days)

Notification: You have received a new title!

Title: Follower of Death

New Skill: Language of the dead (active)

You now have the ability to commune with Death's servants

Sometimes she didn't know whether she wanted to kiss or kill whatever was behind these notifications. This was one of those moments.

She hit the books with gusto to confirm her suspicions and found the text she wanted soon enough. It was a diary by a German monk who spent several years praying to the Lord of Flame every day and was blessed with the ability to wield fire. Another was a book exploring Parseltongue and its possible roots in the blessing of an old snake god in India. There were a few more citing similar thoughts. 'Death's servants' was the term usually used to refer to inferi, dementors and the like. Dementors she knew had a language as the Ministry had to hire a translator to negotiate their contract with the beings. Inferi had no individual will as far as she was aware though. It was far too vague and she was assuming Death's servants were in fact dead. Why did her patron have to make her life so complicated?

1990 November

Alana relaxed against the railing of the astronomy tower as Professor Sinistra continued her monologue on the significance of the moon cycle for magical creatures. The sky was a black canvas sprawled with glittering stars. It was a sight most would only dream of seeing in their lifetime. The railing she leaned against provided little protection against the chilling breeze that swept in from the forbidden forest. Rickety as it was, she would not have been surprised if the structure caved under her weight.

"Is the sky really so interesting that you have to stare at it for half an hour, Alana? I'm pretty sure you finished the class task of observing the moon patterns twenty minutes ago." Lucian Bole had checked the for the younger Volkov's presence before approaching the female Ravenclaw. It wouldn't do to be caught unawares and the boy was like a guard dog around his new friend. Alana brought her gaze down to rest on the Slytherin. She presented him with a roguish smile.

"Didn't you hear the professor? Astronomy is so very important for us magicals that I thought deep contemplation would lead to a breakthrough in my cultivation," She replied mysteriously. Meanwhile, Lucian was staring at her wide-eyed. 'Cultivation? What is this? Is it a spell or forbidden tome that she somehow got her hands on? I must know!' Lucian schemed various plans on how to get her to explain 'cultivation' without admitting his own ignorance. Alana lamented the poor pokerface skills of the Slytherins she had met. The boy's intentions were written clearly on his face. She'd heard of the legendary skills of the Slytherin elite, so it was anticlimactic to see their future successors flailing so disgracefully.

She returned to her stargazing thoughtfully. It was obvious that Lucian thought he had something to gain by befriending her. She wasn't about to correct the boy either. Being greeted by the odd Slytherin in the corridor had been annoying at first but once the initial introductions had passed, the polite nod in her direction was a pleasant exchange. Lucian was from a distant side-branch of the Malfoy family with little influence in Britain, but he seemed well acquainted with most of the lesser houses. The lesser pureblood houses, in general, were far more cordial as they could be ruined more easily by an inter-family conflict. She had heard there were only a few major players in Slytherin with the majority joining in the coming year. It was somewhat humorous that the pureblood ladies all planned their pregnancies so carefully but she could understand why. It was easier to keep alliances between those of similar ages.

She stared at the long drop from the astronomy tower in thought. The house rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor had been tame so far. Quidditch was the obvious exception to this but that was normal. Having a generation of heirs join the school next year would throw this balance into disarray. She could already see the signs in the subtle shifts in house hierarchy. Percy Weasley had fortunately managed to dig his claws into the position of head prefect so she didn't have to worry for the boy she found herself sparring with after Leoen. The Ravenclaws were withdrawing slowly but steadily from the school community and the Hufflepuffs were organising themselves so each year's representative was made clear to the masses. The Slytherins were the only ones not to make any outright moves as they were always prepared for such shifts in the tide. It was both terrifying and exhilarating to see the older years manoeuvre their houses into position like generals preparing for war. It was a war in a way. It would be raged silently from the moment the first years stepped onto Hogwarts soil. She almost pitied the children.

"Alana, I'm heading back to the dorm now. Are you coming along?" It was Charlotte who interrupted her melancholy and jolted her from her thoughts.

"Mhm. I'll come with," She answered the witch.

"I just finished as well. It would be my p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e to accompany you back," Lucian added on. Charlotte shot the boy a suspicious and slightly uncomfortable look. She couldn't exactly refuse after he asked so politely. Alana was silently laughing at her predicament. Charlotte wasn't one for the Slytherin brand of friendship and tended to avoid the lot.

"Alright then." The stiff reply had her outright grinning. It was fortunate neither noticed.

The walk back was… interesting. Lucian kept asking how Charlotte's family was and if their business was going well. Charlotte's replies were always short and uninterested. Her parents were both purebloods who dealt in the trading of furs but she rarely spoke of them. The Slytherin didn't seem to understand the social cues to switch topic so Alana decided to finally help them both out.

"Are you planning to join any clubs, Lucian?" She asked.

The question led to the topic of Quidditch which Charlotte was far fonder of. She was intrigued by the charms placed on the brooms and uniforms of the professional leagues. Alana already knew Lucian planned on joining the team next year along with his closest friend Peregrine Derrick. The quickly dissipating awkwardness was cherished by both girls.

Edited 25.10.2019