Halloween was a strange holiday. For most it was a time of dressing up and making a journey, a quest even, for delicious candy. For others it was keeping an eye on those little adventurers, or simply sitting back and trying to ignore everything and stay warm, as the colder weather moved in.
For the minor few, however, the day had a more mystical attachment – and not an appreciated one either.
Halloween was infamous for altering rituals, spoiling or tainting potions, and even causing magic itself to warp beyond it's intended purpose.
That last one was important, because magic was powered and shaped by the person casting the spell, the power drawn from the caster's magical core, while that energy was shaped by the user's catalyst; whether that be their hand, a ring, a staff, or a wand depended on where the practitioner lived or what they preferred, but that was how things worked. The fact that spells were altered at all, meant that something else was affecting them, something foreign.
Tom Riddle, renamed Lord Voldemort by his own hand, was what he and a large percent of the population of the Magical Great Britain would call a master when it came to casting the Killing Curse.
This spell, visible, acid green in color, was a relatively slow moving piece of magic. It couldn't be blocked, but this was because while most magic worked on the principle of causing the desired effect, the poorly named killing curse was a conceptual piece of magic. It was magic made concept, and this concept just happened to be 'separate'. How this concept was implemented was up to the caster. It was unfortunate that the modern magic users had turned the amazing piece of magic into a barbaric tool to 'separate' the Life from the Mortal Vessel of those they chose to attack with the spell.
With this information in hand, it was easy to assume Voldemort was feeling arrogant and sure of himself that night. This feeling only grew when he met only a token resistance in the form of two elder House Elves upon breaching the wards of the Potter home. None of the wards were offensive or even defensive in nature, merely of the alarm and proximity variety. Why this was became obvious when he stepped into the property and met silence. A Reveal Life-Force came up with only two life signs, both of which next to eachother and upstairs.
Initially Voldemort assumed it was the Newlywed couple either sleeping beside eachother or perhaps even... breeding. The mere thought of such a disgusting act was an affront and insult to the man who had vowed to kill them, and had long since discarded both the ability and desire to copulate in return for more power.
His assumption proved to be wrong, however, when he blasted open the door only to reveal a nursery with two toddlers playing inside a walled off section of the room. The two foot tall plastic wall proved to be far from mundane as it appeared, as a shimmering clear wall of magic sprang from it and blocked the sharp pieces of wood from injuring the children.
Said children had stopped their game of stacking rectangular blocks of colored wood and were staring at him. When their eyes landed on his outstretched hand they began babbling in that unique way that only babies could, apparently excited by the length of wood held loosely in his fingers.
Voldemort's mouth curved into a cruel smile. No doubt the children had seen their parents casting magic, perhaps they had even been entertained or had a desire or need sated by the magic expelled from the wants of their progenitor.
Tonight was not the time for giving though, this night would be one of taking, of stealing and tarnishing. There would be much heartbreak and sorrow, and it was all going to be by his hand. He would command them to despair, and they would, such was his power.
Two words, said so many times the man had lost track, rolled off his tongue in a satisfied drawl. "Avada Kedavra."
The bolt of green magic leapt from his wand, and, as if mirroring the mood of the caster, was even slower than it normally was, taking it's time crossing the room. It passed straight through the barrier that sprang up once more from the plastic gate. The defensive magic was charmed to block many things, but in the face of something as powerful as a singular and massively powered concept, it could do little but separate and fall apart, the matrix that made up the enchantment of the gate fizzling and collapsing with a hiss.
The spell almost reached the clapping children, who were very entertained by the pretty light, when the unique magic of Halloween, the foreign thing that had baffled Magicals the world over for as long as time could remembered, interfered.
It was a little thing, compared to the many mishaps that had occurred on this date. The concept of the spell got a new addition. 'Separate', became 'Separate All'.
The spell struck the male child right in the nose, and in the very same moment, time itself stopped working in the nursery. The Potter children, Voldemort, the furniture, the very air itself, and most importantly the ambient magic within the room, were rendered to their base components.
That's when things got even more interesting. Love was a powerful force, and the siblings cared a great deal for one another. From the cloud they had become within the mass of what used to be their nursery, the magic of Lucy and Harry Potter reached out to one another, both greatly disliking being separated for any reason since they had more fun together and being alone was kind of scary.
Voldemort, poor Tom Riddle, had no such companion, and when time restarted and the spell ran it's course, he was simply gone. His soul was caught by the Ancors he had created before it could pass on, but the magic contained in his body was left behind.
The Magic of Halloween once more shifted the concept of the spell, this time so as to avert universal disaster as the fabric of reality itself was in danger of separating. 'Separate All', became 'Replenish and Reform'.
Magic is a funny thing though. While many believed it was a truly neutral force, it really wasn't. Voldemort had twisted and tainted his magic by committing atrocious acts and going through truly repugnant rituals, making it Dark. The children, on the other hand, were beings of pure innocence and curiosity, the very picture of good; their magic was pure Light.
When what had started as a simple Killing Curse finally ran it's course, the Potter twins were reformed and whole... only, balance had not been part of the equation when everything had been replenished and returned. The magic that was broken down to it's base parts had been clumped together, and, just as water and oil separate if poured into the same glass, so too did the different magics. The Light and Dark energies of magic had, while together in the strictest sense, split down the middle. Already having two convenient and equal shares of magic to return to the children, the spell simply took them and shoved one into each child as their bodies rapidly regrew, their nappies even appearing on them, just as they had before.
Lucy Potter's hazel hair and warm brown irises were long gone, in their place was a mane of flowing golden locks and and silver eyes. Her skin almost seemed to glow in the light from the moon, where it had been soft and peach before, it was now a flawless porcelain white. Her entire being now gave off an aura of fragility and untouchablity. The girl shined, in every sense of the word, for better or worse.
Harry, meanwhile, was changed very little. His skin was untouched, and at first glance his hair was the same. Upon close inspection though one would notice that his hair had indeed changed, from a raven shade to something most would call inky black. His eyes too, had darkened. Where once they were a deep emerald green, promising to charm many a woman, if that was how his taste ran in the future, they were now a deep and endless black. The whites of his eyes contrasted the iris sharply, making them almost painful to look at.
Like his sister, Harry's aura had been changed, where she was highly visible, one's gaze tended to slide right over him. Like shadow given form, he blended in with everything around him. Unlike hers, however, which was completely one note, his had multiple layers. Focus on it too long, and invisibility turned to unease, which became fright, which only escalated to feelings of isolation and the cold embrace of the Dark.
And then Lucy noticed the funny looking man was gone and that their block tower had been knocked over and let out a wail.
Harry, caring brother that he was, got up and stumbled over to her on unsteady legs. Once he reached her he bent over and repeatedly smacked her head lightly in what would have probably been a very comforting gesture if he didn't have the fine motor control of... well, a toddler.
Still, Lucy's cry quieted and before long the two were once again happily playing with their blocks, physical changes, magical core growth, and the fact that most of the room was now covered in a fine mist made up of wood, plastic, metal, and various organic materials, going completely unnoticed by the two.
Also unnoticed, the light of the room flared while the shadows writhed.
Life promised to be very interesting, for the Potter Twins, that's for sure.