𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓡𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓟𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼: ǟ ʀɛǟʟɨȶʏ ֆɦɨʄȶɨռɢ ȶǟʟɛ ✤ ֆɛʋɛʀʊʂ ҳ օƈ

нαℓℓσω'ѕ єνє

October 31st presented no laughs. No fake screams. Oh yes, they were real. The Carrows had a rather crooked way of celebrating Halloween.

One could tolerate the feast. So long as you avoided touching the live insects crawling around your plate. Or---what is that foul scent of that bloodied, meaty slab? The flesh of what creatures? An organ rather human-like . . .

Skip to the dessert. Luckily high-end, pureblood-worthy sweets and treats adorned inside glinting, lit-up jars.

The Halloween of 1997 was the first celebration where students couldn't wait to retire to the common room. Even before curfew. The poor, unfortunate souls on their slower feet found themselves thrown into the air by the pinky toe. Screams had echoed about the corridor, subduing the cackles behind.

Under the imperius curse, some students even chased each other with daggers in their hands. Aiming them towards the wall, as a Carrow directed somebody else to narrowly miss impact. Pulses increased. Sweat ran down the frightened children. All for the laughter of the deranged siblings.

Younglings huddled near their prefects in their common rooms, praying their peers' agony ended soon.

Severus paced in his office. He had skipped the feast altogether. He could not bear to witness the cruelty, the pleads of mercy to his presence. The loathing glares from the older students.

He must allow the Carrows to have their fun. Bellatrix's gossip, or rather assumptions about him, spread to every Death Eater.

He must tolerate the screams.

For the greater good.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯○○◯○○⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Each house started their own Halloween celebration. Leftover treats pocketed from the feast, punch either brewed or bought last Hogsmeade weekend. And of course, Slytherin partied freely.

But for the others, it was more lament than party. Dim candles in dark corners. Shades drawn over every common room window. Stuffing scarves, old socks---anything they could fit into the window crevices which might signal common room activity to the outside.

One could imagine the old times instead. Whispering in the dark, giggling softly well-past midnight. And in a way, it was a fun method of celebration. The suspense it took to carefully set a glass down, to keep a whole crowd on board with hushes and silent moves of Wizard Chess.

Unifying. Connecting more than ever before.

D.A. members slowly migrated towards one of the Gryffindors in the common room. Luna and Niamh spread out on the floor, observing the lion cubs painted across the ceiling. The skylight, the twinkling stars peeking in.

Niamh's chest rose up and down as she calmed her breaths. The D.A. had spared a few meetings after they recruited her back. And during that time, Luna eased her public affection for her again. The effort was nice. To have someone to relate to, to chat without a strained, cautious tone.

That wasn't to say all accepted.

Ginny stepped into the middle. "I think we should celebrate Halloween Dumbledore's way."

"That isn't exactly what Dumbledore would do . . ." Cho started.

"At this point, any form of harmless rebellion is Dumbledore's way." Shrugging, Seamus glanced shamelessly at them all. "Felicity, you got it?"

Niamh held up the vial, nodding.

They carefully lined up single-file at the common room exit. One by one, they slipped out. Immediately sliding against the wall. Palms running along the surfaces, feeling for portraits or clanging metals of display armor.