Author's Note: Written for the Dia de los Muertos challenge for The Golden Snitch. Please forgive me if my Spanish is terrible.
House: Horned Serpent
Word Count: 1195
Prompts Used:
(object) marigolds
(object) bread
(character) Gregory Goyle
(word) presence
(word) poetry
Did not use prompt 6
(setting) Godric's Hollow
(colour) orange
(dialogue) "She was just a child." / "She was too good for this world."
(word) return
(character) George Weasley
(word) spirit
Echoes de los Muertos
Godric's Hollow on Halloween night was a sight to behold. Bright orange jack-o-lanterns grinned from every window, and little children ran to and fro dressed up in all manner of costumes, their hearts set on more candy than they could ever eat. It seemed as though everyone was in the holiday spirit.
Even the youngest children knew of the story of Harry Potter, the baby who destroyed He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, but what they did not know was that things were about to change in the most beautiful way.
"Are you sure that this is going to work, Hermione?" Ron complained, as he finished rubbing the healing salve into his hand.
"Ah, quit your whinging, Ronald," George said, pulling a face from where he was finishing up laying out the fireworks display for later that evening.
"Thank you, George, but I can fight my own battles, thank you," Hermione said with a sniff, "And yes, Ronald, it is going to work. I didn't spend a year in Oaxaca researching traditional brujeria magic for nothing."
Harry entered the room, his expression pensive and more than a little wistful. He traced his finger over a line that had been carved into the door frame that was followed by his name in his dead father's hand. "Honestly, I never thought I'd return to this place, not after...everything that has happened."
"Where do you need these, boss?" Gregory Goyle appeared holding a large box and wearing a purple shirt with a nametag that identified him as Head Stock boy for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
"Eh, just put them over by the kitchen, Greg," George said with a wave of his hand.
Goyle went. Though, as George was fond of saying, he wasn't the brightest bloke, he knew how to follow directions.
As he looked out the window, he smiled wistfully. Fred would have loved this. A line of tiny charmed jack-o-lanterns told jokes in the window. Puffy garlands made of marigolds added a fiery splash of colour to the streets with hidden wizarding fireworks that would burst flower petals into the streets once he was given the signal to set them off. Candyfloss spiderwebs were strung over the holloway out back with gummy spiders charmed to wiggle down towards trick-or-treaters and give them a fright (and a treat). After surveying his handiwork a final time, he joined the others.
"It's nearly time!" Hermione called out. She shooed everyone outside except for Harry. "Harry, are you sure you want to do this?"
"She was just a child," Harry said sadly. "She was too good for this world."
"She was your mum, Harry," Hermione replied, "she loved you deeply and would have done anything for you."
"I want to do this." Harry said. "No. I have to do this."
"Right." Hermione finished chalking the circle over the place where Voldemort had cast the Killing Curse all those years ago. "Stand here. The echoes of the power that was released when your mother protected you should be enough to set things in motion, but there's about a 35% chance that it won't work. And there's a 5% chance that you'll be in horrible pain—"
"Not helping, Hermione," Harry interrupted. "Just start."
"Fine. Here." Hermione handed an object wrapped in waxed paper. "Eat this."
Harry unwrapped it and frowned at the skull imprinted on the top in white sugary paste. "Is this...bread?"
Hermione nodded. "The focal wizard has to eat the Pan de Muertos to begin the spell. I already explained this thirteen—"
"Ok, ok!" Harry said, tearing out a large piece of bread and chewing on it. "Mmmm..schweet."
"Harry, manners!" Hermione huffed, then turned to the book of brujeria poetry she'd spread out on the table.
"Una canción de la gente,
Para los muertos recoger
Una noche despertar,
Una noche volver,
Nuestras familias extrañamos
Gritamos, "Deseamos verle ahora!"
Aunque todos ustedes están muertos,
Ven a caminar una vez más esta noche."
As Hermione finished her incantation, a marigold tickled against Harry's cheek. He brushed it away as he swallowed his last bite of bread. It was replaced by another and another until a flurry of golden petals were flying around the room as though pushed by an unseen wind. Hermione was blown back and dropped her book. It spun away under the old crib that they'd pushed against the wall.
Harry's eyes were wide. "Mum?" he croaked.
"Harry, what do you see?" Hermione called out, rubbing her head as she tried to stand against the gale force wind, petals buffeting her like brightly coloured hail.
But Harry wasn't listening. A dark image in the outline of a skull began to burn itself across his face. He screamed. His eyes began to glow with an unearthly light, and Hermione could only shield her eyes as he stared up at the ceiling and a huge, bright light flowed from his eyes and mouth as he screamed and screamed. The chalk circle underneath him had begun to glow as well, and Hermione could see where spidery cracks of light were growing outwards from it.
"¡Ay, chingados!" she cursed.
From outside the house, George had to hold Ron back from running inside. "You know what Hermione said, mate," he grunted, as Ron flailed furiously against him. "It won't work if we interrupt it."
Cracks of light snaked like roots down the side of the house, and everyone scattered to avoid them as they plunged into the ground, moving like glowing coalesced into a shining path where they met the holloway, and disappeared into the darkness.
Then, silence.
A sharp sound, like a broken twig, echoed from far away, and everyone jumped.
The sound of many feet shuffling slowly, like a cold whisper from beyond the grave, filled the air. Glowing forms began to appear at the end of the rounded path. They moved slowly, as though unused to their newfound forms.
But there was one figure who broke out into a joyful run before the others, making his presence known.
"Oi! There you are, you bastard!" George dropped Ron like a sack of potatoes and stepped onto the path, running with abandon.
The two met in the middle and embraced— one flesh and blood twin and one glowing spirit. They were mirror images of joy with tears streaming down their faces.
Spirits made flesh were streaming around the twins, running and flying and swooping and laughing as they rushed to meet those who had remembered them.
Wiping the tears from his eyes, George pointed his wand and lit the fuse for the first firework, which spread to the others via the shared fuse. With a burst of colour and light, everyone watched and laughed as the marigold garlands burst and covered everyone. Then, the fireworks lit up the sky, and for awhile, nothing else mattered in the world.
Harry stumbled out of the front door with Hermione steadying him, still reeling from the pain of his ordeal. But, when his mum and dad, Sirius, Remus, and even Peter ran to meet him, Harry knew that it had all been worth it to have a night to spend with his loved ones.