"Hmmm," Adams continued, "but perhaps that won't be necessary. You don't seem fond of them." She thought over her words. She had communed with the Death Gods, had asked for their fortune and favor, and they had sent her here. On this night, to do this ritual. The sight of another necromancer was a command from them she would be foolish to ignore. But Alabasandria was not familiar with dealing with children. "I can sense you're injured. Lots of old wounds that have never healed correctly. Did your uncle do that to you?"
Harry paused, startled at his deepest secrets coming to life and the sudden change in topic. She continued. "You don't belong with these people, Harry. You belong in the magical world. Do you want to come with me and learn magic?"
Harry thought about it. The silence was thick and oozing and unnatural. He could see his uncle was contorted in a silent scream, and it was all very distracting. It was hard to think when his heart felt like it was about to burst from his chest. But again, Harry could not escape the exciting notion of learning magic.
"How often will you feed me?" He asked. "Can I sleep on a bed? Do I have to kill people?"
The necromancer was taken aback by his questioning, a touch horrified at the implication - which was impressive as she regularly committed murder and wasn't horrified often. This was not the first of these conversations she'd had. Alabasandria had taught many apprentices, but usually they asked about pay and could she pretty please resurrect their dead loved ones, not about stuff like food.
There was more than Harry's magical compatibility at play here. It was a little-known fact that the Death Gods were very much not cruel. Hades and Anubis in particular were fond of children. She had been called forth to rescue as much as to teach, she noticed, observing the boy's too-small frame. Little Harry Potter was much too important and powerful to be left to waste away under his relatives 'care'.
She could only speculate about what she had done to deserve this, what error she'd made that the gods considered her the best choice to deal with a child. Sure there were not a lot of necromancers left to choose from, but the direction this night had taken was beyond baffling.
"Yes, I will feed you often. Whenever you are hungry. And I can easily expand my house so you have your own bedroom. And yes, you will have to kill people, but killing is not always the same thing as harming them. Admittedly, our meeting tonight paints a graphic image of my work. I mostly deal with those who died long ago. Tonight is a special ritual and the sacrifices must be fresh. We will use these bodies to bind ourselves as master and apprentice."
"Alright then," Harry finally agreed. Harry was six years old and did not really understand what he was getting himself into. He had been taught a skewed sense of morality - that violence was normal and food was the most valuable thing. He didn't want to hurt people, but he was also very abused and very hungry, so if the nice necromancer lady said she would feed him, then that was good enough for him. He wanted to learn magic, it didn't really matter to Harry what type of magic that was.
"Excellent. Let us finish up our business here, so that we may return home and feed you."
Harry grinned and eagerly followed after her. She waved the stick around and more shadows billowed out the end of it, the animal shapes bursting forth and surrounding the area. With another wave, the bodies all began to levitate, lining up neatly into a circle. Adams waved her wand around like a baton. The bodies began to ooze blood, draining into the center of the circle. Harry stumbled back towards the necromancer to avoid it, yet blood seeped into his shoes. She knelt down, saying an incantation that Harry didn't understand, old and whispery words bouncing off his ears and triggering the urge to run and flee and cry. A fancy cup appeared in her hands and she dipped it into the blood. She held it aloft like a casual call for a toast.