Chapter Thirty-One: Halloween Feast
"I call dibs on the pumpkin pie!" Ron declared, staring down Neville, Seamus, and Dean in turn.
"Gawd, Ron, really?! Is food the only thing you think of?!" Ginny rolled her eyes at her older brother.
"Yep" he smirked. "That and Quidditch!"
"You should have gone with a pig's costume!" Ginny nudged him. "I think there will be enough for everyone - or... maybe not?" she patted at his belly teasingly.
"And you should have gone as an old Hag!" Ron snorted back at her, shoving away her hand.
They were all dressed in costume. Ron dressed as a Chudley Cannon Quidditch player, Dean the fearsome Black Beard Pirate, Ginny in a scant outfit fixed up like the lead singer of the Witch Sisters' band - which had just about every boy in the Gryffindor common room eying her lewdly, from seventh years, right on down to first years.
Seamus was painted up like a scary zombie, and Susan Bones matched him as his zombie bride. Neville was wrapped up like a mummy, and Luna... wel,l no one knew exactly what Luna was supposed to be.
At tonight's much anticipated Halloween Feast, there was to be a special twist with a Costume Ball following, an exceptional prize going to the winning boy and girl. They were only waiting for Hermione before they left for the Great Hall.
Just then the portal to the common room opened, and a brown haired witch dressed in a short, sparkling emerald green dress with wings sweeping out from behind her stepped in.
"Oh..." reverberated around the room as all conversation ground to a halt.
"Hermione!" Ginny and Susan jumped up. "You look amazing!"
"Yeah..." Dean agreed breathlessly, earning himself a slug in his shoulder from Ginny.
"A fairy?" Susan circled around her as the wings fluttered bashfully of their own accord.
Hermione paused at the entry, blushing from all the sudden attention. Her eyes finally fell to Ron, who looked dumbstruck. "Thanks..." she said shyly. Ron just sat their, his mouth bobbing up and down like a fish out of water.
"You... beautiful..." he said foolishly, taking one Hermione's hands. For numerous reasons, they'd long since set aside any sort of relationship, but tonight they were going to the dance together, and many looked into this for more than it was. Ginny especially was eying them with overt interest.
"Was there a match tonight I wasn't aware of?" Hermione teased him.
"Huh? What?" he stumbled, confused, "Oh... yeah!" he said, stepping back and turning, doing a little mock model show for her before striking the Scimsky Pose. "Championship night!" Hermione and the rest just laughed at him.
All the troupe, all the school for that matter, couldn't have been in higher spirits as they gathered around their respective House tables. The roar of excitement was near deafening. The Great Hall was decorated in its utmost splendor, with floating jack-o-lanterns replacing the candles beneath a full moon and star lit sky above in the bewitched ceiling. Cobwebs and skeletons hung from the banisters, a deep fog skimmed across the floor, and all the school's ghosts mulled throughout, placing wagers on the Headless Hunt to come.
"Two months passed..." Everyone's attention was suddenly drawn to the lectern at the center of the staff's table. " It feels like only yesterday since you've all returned to us," Mcgonagall spoke steadily, pausing to allow all the voices to quiet down. "Returned... not the same. Tested by hell's fire. Run through the gamut. We have all looked the devil in the eye and cast him off. All Hallows' Eve. A time of remembrance for the Saints before. A time of thankfulness for the truth they have laid bare. I time for remembrance." McGonagall held all's attention.
"All are veterans here, Saints in my eyes. Hold your head high, students of Hogwarts. Celebrate your victory, your return to truth and knowledge, for there is no greater wealth in all the world. By the victor is history written, and by the true at heart, the truth be known. Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free. The Ghosts of our Past shall forever return, to undo what we have done, to spread lies and darkness, for in the pursuit of power are the ignorant enslaved, blinded, reigned by its lure. Seek the truth, be humbled by its omnipotence, and live free of the dark. All Hallows' Eve."
Silence.
An awkward clap started at the head table - it was Hagrid. A couple of more joined in from there. The students remained enraptured. It was a heavy speech, not all could recognize, but one by one, the applause eventually spread.
As McGonagall returned to her seat, even some of the professors daried an odd glance or two towards her at her strange speech, but soon the standard uproar returned.
All the students could not remember a finer feast. Stuffed turkey and glazed ham, roast beef and goose. Seventeen different types of potatoes and eighteen different types of beans. There were rolls of every shape and size, cranberries and cinnamon apples. And that was only before desert. Ron got his pumpkin pie - more than he could put a dent in.
Once the meal was complete and their bellies bloated, the tables were cleared and pushed back, squared around a dance floor at the center. None of the older boys who had survived since the last Yule Ball feared to ask their partners to dance, for they had learned the lesson the hard way - never put off for tomorrow.
. . . .
"What are you doing sitting all by yourself?" Ginny plopped down next to Hermione, grabbing a napkin to wipe the sheen of sweat from her brow.
"Oh..." Ginny answered her own question when she spotted her git of a brother amongst a large crowd of fawning younger girls. "Sorry..." Ginny felt a pang for her friend. "He certainly has a way of letting his fame go right to his head. Let's see how many stammer around him while he's puking slugs!" Ginny threatened as she hiked her skirt up a bit to retrieve her wand strapped to her thigh.
"Ha!" Hermione laughed, grabbing Ginny's wrist to pull her back into her seat. "No, it's fine, Ginny, really," Hermione insisted as the red haired witch gave her a doubtful look. "It's... no longer like that between us. Let him have his fun. He's earned it..." she said, though sighing all the same.
"Huh?" Ginny's eyes narrowed in on the brunette. "He's earned it?! Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?!" she joked, goading out another laugh from Hermione. "Hmm," she murmured pertly, retaking her seat. "Still think it would be fun to hex him, but if you insist..." she gave Hermione a weak smile.
"Where's Dean?" Hermione asked.
"Getting us some punch," Ginny looked around to see if she could spot her boyfriend. "Think I am literally dying of thirst. He hasn't let me sit down all night!"
Ginny kicked herself as she saw Hermione frown at this. "They're all just scared, you know?" Ginny implied. "You are Hermione Granger, after all," she offered another sympathetic smile. And it was the truth. Just about any boy here would have gladly given their left arm to dance with the dazzling witch in the sparkling green dress, but none had the nerve to ask her. She was Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of their age, and one of the Golden Trio.
"Hey, Hermione! Why you sitting all by yourself?" Dean returned with two cups of punch, but then suddenly tripped and spilt them beneath the murderous glare his girlfriend gave him. Hermione only half-giggled, half-sighed, not answering him.
"I know!" Ginny suddenly sat up. "Dean, why don't you and Her-" but the red head was cut short as a mysterious looking wizard in midnight black robes, with a black suit, and black silk lapels and tie worn beneath, and a glimmering golden mask covering his face wove his way out the mob and stepped up before them.
Though the face of the mask was expressionless, stoic even, the gold was of the purest kind, and the moldings so finely crafted, it could only have been made by the hands of a goblin. Whomever this stranger was, he seemed to have a certain aura about him. The two girls both suddenly sat up straight in their chairs, pushing back their shoulders while gulping, as if either were competing for his attention. Dean just stood there, holding his two glasses of punch, dumbstruck.
The stranger in the golden mask did not say a word. He simply held out his left hand to Hermione. Hermione herself just sat there staring at it, almost as if she were having dejavu, and yet, she could not understand it. Ginny, though at first she appeared to be disappointed, recovered and nudged her friend back to life. Hesitantly, Hermione lifted her right hand and placed it in his.
"W-would... would you like to dance?" Hermione asked foolishly, as if she had been the one to approach him. She heard him chuckle beneath the mask, but still he did not speak.
With her hand in his, she suddenly felt the weight of all that had been resting on her lift, as if it were by magic. As he led her to the dance floor, she felt almost giddish, like a silly little girl being asked to dance for the very first time. She dared a glance at him from the corner of her eye, but he was looking forward and the golden mask was all encompassing.
As the sound of the music she had not even realized had been muted to her returned, the song sounded oddly familiar... A song she knew. She could not place it, but it was there, coming back to her from deep within. It was slow and sad, jerking at a nerve writhing within her. "O Children..."
Taking their places within the swell of moving bodies, the mysterious boy turned to face her, taking her other hand now in his. As they started to move, though slow and somewhat awkward at first, Hermione found it hard to breath. There was a certain connection between them she could not place. Dejavu...
They twist and turned, hand in hand, gently warming into it, before the young man suddenly twirled her. Hermione laughed. "Where did you learn to dance?" she teased him. He just shrugged, slowly gaining his own courage as they moved ever quicker together, drawing ever closer.
"So..." Hermione couldn't help but smile, and she did not try to pull away as he stepped in nearer. "Are you going to tell me who you are, or is it to forever remain a mystery?"
The wizard did not respond, nor did he pause as their rhythm heightened either.
"It's a mystery then," Hermione laughed as he twirled her again. "Thomas..?" she asked. "William..?" she began ticking off the boys' names she knew from the other Houses that could possibly match his height and build. He was tall and strong. There weren't many to choose from.
But as they danced on without him answering her, Hermione glanced around the room, spotting those she was attempting to guess, ruling out each in turn. "You could at least tell me from which House," she inquired, but he did not give.
And then the song ended. Their feet grew still as the others about the floor began to part. Their hands fell down to their sides, but they did not let go. A new song came on as new couples flooded to the floor.
The bass thumped. Violins strung. The pace was quicker, but with a more romantic twist. The eyes of the mask met the girl's. The boy let go her left hand and timidly placed it on her waist. Without looking away, she placed her hand on his shoulder. It was broad and hard, like a sculpted rock beneath her fingers They began to move once again.
It was poetic, right from the start. Their bodies moved as one, weaving through the mob on the floor. All else seemed to melt away, to be forgotten around them.
Their steps seemed to be cushioned by the clouds as the pace ever quickened. They turned and twisted and spun. His grip grew tighter about her waist, drawing her body flush against his.
They moved like the flow and ebb of the tide, like leaves moving together in a spiraling wind, wild and free and yet impossibly in sync.
The tune changed, becoming almost violent and angry. He spun her hard and fast, gliding about her as he did, guiding her like she the brush in the artist's stroke. The room seemed to spin to nothingness behind them. She felt like she were floating, lighter than a feather, drifting, soaring, like a swan in the warm summer air.
And then she was against him, folded into his chest as their spin slowed with the rhythm of the music. She could sense him inhaling the scent of her hair, like it was an intense, intoxicating drug, and it intimidated her.
"Oh..." she gasped as the music halted. They were the only ones left on the floor... or above the floor rather. Quite literally. They were hovering above it. Slowly, like two flakes drifting down in the snow, first their toes, then their heels found the solid ground below. There was absolute silence in the Great Hall as all eyes were turned to the two, staring, gawking.
And then, as she timidly lifted her eyes to the slits in the mask, like the firing of a canon, an explosion of cheers and applause rang through the hall.
It was only a glimpse, but as her chest heaved for breath against his, she saw simmering emerald staring out the shadows of the mask into her sweltering brown orbs.
And then he was gone. Hermione tripped forward in the void he left, trying to follow, but she could no longer command her legs. And then there was Ginny and Susan and Luna and a herd of other girls swallowing her in a sea of clapping and congratulations and questions.
All else was drowned out though as a memory hit her. She was carried away by it. She was standing once again at the top of that staircase, looking down upon the raven haired boy that she loved.
"WHERE-IS-HE?!" shrieked that insane voice of the little girl of the library within her head.
"Grimmauld," she answered herself. Her eyes shot open. "Oh gawd, she knows! Harry!"
Without any explanation, Hermione left many a confounded girl and calling voices behind her as she sped for the door.
. . . .
"I hope you've enjoyed yourself tonight, Mr Potter," Kreig stepped forward from the shadows as Harry entered the classroom. He'd had many mixed emotions from the night, and wished nothing more than to lose himself in a very strenuous work out.
Harry just stared at him, caught off guard, his mind wandering, the golden mask now in his hand. "It is time for your next lesson," Kreig handed him a closed folder with leather bindings containing several sheets of parchment within.
"What is this?" Harry opened it. His eyes immediately narrowed in as he saw the name at the top of the first page. A bewitched photo of the wizard sneered and bit at Harry like a rabid dog, his white teeth flashing and snapping from the corner beside the name:
Antonin Dolohov
Death Eater
Killer of Remus Lupin.
"Tonight," Kreig drew himself up to his full height. "You learn to hunt."