Chapter Seven
"The Coven"
The Daily Prophet
31st October 1996
15 Years On...
As reported by Valda Hopkins
It was a cold, Autumn night when tragedy struck the sleepy village of Godric's Hollow fifteen years ago.
On the 31st October 1981, James and Lily Potter had spent an ordinary evening at home, caring for their son, when evil knocked at the door. Nobody really knows what happened to these two brave and talented wizards as they met their death at the hand of You-Know-Who but there is not a wizard alive today who does not know the tale of their son, Harry Potter.
Harry Potter or The-Boy-Who-Lived as he has commonly become known, was just an infant when his parents were so brutally and cruelly taken from him. Again the facts of just what happened that night are hazy but what is certain is that as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named turned his wand on this little boy, something extraordinary happened. A popular theory amongst experts is that the Killing Curse rebounded off Harry and struck You-Know-Who himself, though no one can explain why or how this happened. To this day, Harry Potter remains the sole survivor of the Killing Curse.
That night marked the end of the war for all of wizardkind and for fourteen wonderful years we all believed You-Know-Who to be gone. Wizards were free once more, and the baby boy was considered a hero; our saviour. That is until just a few months ago when The Ministry of Magic confirmed that He-Who-Must-Be-Named had been sighted at The Ministry of Magic Headquarters. Where he was rumoured to have been duelling with Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry and recently reinstated Chief Mugwump of the Wizengamot, Professor Albus Dumbledore and none other than the Boy-Who-Lived-Himself, Harry Potter.
The rumour mill has gone into overdrive since that night, but reliable sources have confirmed to us that their meeting was regarding a prophecy, held at The Department of Mysteries, which labelled Harry Potter as the chosen one. The one to rid us of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named once and for all.
Since his return was publicised, attacks have been on the rise. We are all once again fearing for our families and our lives. Just last night, Adrian Witten, a valued member of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was set upon and attacked as he attended a routine domestic call out. His mutilated body was found beneath The Dark Mark, confirming yet another attack on Ministry Officials (for a full report turn to page 6.)
As the terror rises the question on my, and many of our readers, lips is this. What is the chosen one doing? It has been confirmed that he has returned to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for his sixth year but is this really his priority?
Does The Chosen One, the saviour of Wizardkind, not have a duty to be doing something, anything to try to end this war? He has known of the prophecy's existence for months if not longer, if one listens carefully to the rumours of a close personal relationship with his guarded Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, and I for one think it's time to for action, not time for Harry Potter to sit on his bottom, twiddling his thumbs in Charm's class.
Hermione slammed the paper down in disgust, unable to look at the smiling, waving picture of Lily and James Potter as the paper spouted their bile about their son.
"I don't know why you still read that," Harry commented as Hermione edged the paper out of his sight. "You always get angry," he chuckled. "Was it about me again?"
Hermione nodded briefly, "A man was murdered last night, but they still manage to mention you," she fibbed, pushing the paper out of Harry's view.
Using the anniversary of the death of Lily and James Potter just to put out another rehashed article on Harry was below the line. Harry was already so angry at not being able to go and fight; she did not think that this particular article would help any matters especially on this already terrible day.
"Well that's nothing new, is it? Who was it… The man who was murdered?" Harry asked apprehensively, shaking Hermione from her thoughts.
"Adrian Witten," she replied. "He worked for The Ministry. His daughter is one of our first years," she added sadly.
"Is that what that is all about?" Ron asked pointing to a group of younger students all huddled together at the far end of the Gryffindor table.
"Probably," Hermione nodded. "Professor McGonagall collected Claire early this morning. She took all of her things with her, so I don't think she is coming back."
"That's sad," Ron mumbled before getting stuck into breakfast. They ate in silence, all three of them lost in thoughts of the morning's news.
Harry finished eating quickly and then spend the next fifteen minutes shooting Ron increasingly intense glares. He thankfully remained ignorant to the stares that he, himself was garnering from around the room. Hermione really did hate The Daily Prophet; she didn't think much of the people that took the daily rag at its word either.
"You'd better eat up, Ron," He nagged. "We've got practice in half an hour."
Ron continued eating, ignoring Harry's nagging tone. After years of living with Mrs Weasley, he had probably become immune to it. "I think we've got a good team this year," he mused dreamily.
"Yeah, but we will need a lot of practice; we've had to replace almost half of the team," Harry said sternly, eyeballing Ron. "We won't play perfectly together overnight,"
Ron shoved a whole piece of toast into his mouth before pushing the rest of his plate away, finally getting the message.
Flying around on a stick in the cold wind, over a muddy stadium is the last thing Hermione would want to do with her Saturday, but each to their own. She instead said her goodbye's in the foyer as the boys headed outside and she headed off through the castle's corridors to her favourite place.
Hermione usually spent a lot of her free time at Hogwarts in the library but never more than she had in the couple of months that she had been back at school. Every minute she could she spent here; completing her increasing amount of homework or searching the shelves.
Her favourite beanbag still bore the shape of her body, with other students now seeming to give that one a wide berth, almost as if they knew she would be along any minute to claim it. Maybe they thought that as she were here so often, she had special privileges.
The Hogwarts library had never once failed her in all of her years and trials at the school; with its help, she had correctly brewed Polyjuice Potion, identified the Basilisk and formed her Elf welfare society S.P.E.W, but right now she doubted it's all-knowing abilities.
She had spent hours pouring over hundreds of books, yet she still found no white raven. Her frustration was growing, and there had been numerous times she'd tried to convince herself that dreams were just a manifestation of stress from her increased workload, but the bird still plagued her nights.
After reading every book on Divination that the school had to offer, Hermione was convinced she had no fortune telling abilities, but she knew that there was something more to the dreams. But what?
Hermione scanned the shelves of the History of Magic section, after already reading through every book in the divination, magical creatures and Transfiguration departments.
As she piled up her selection beside her seat, Hermione looked out through the painted window down into the grounds, enjoying the beauty of the brown and gold hues on the trees that went for miles around. She saw Hagrid pushing a giant wheelbarrow filled with massive pumpkins through the grounds; nine dogs bounding and jumping around in the fallen leaves behind him.
She nestled down into her comfy chair and started on her books. She soon concluded that although History of Magic should be a celebrated and interesting topic, it was actually very dull and very boring.
The books read as Professor Binns addressed his class and she could not help but read the text with his monotone voice narrating the words in her head. Hermione battled on but found her eyes drooping after just a couple of hours.
After another fruitless morning of reading, Hermione gave up and retreated to the Common Room where she met up with the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Ron, Harry and Ginny were laughing and joking in the corner, and Harry grinned widely when he saw Hermione before waving her over.
He had not seemed this happy in such a long time, and Hermione basked in it. Some of his cheeriness even rubbed off her, easing some of her library frustration.
"Practice went well then?" she questioned as she greeted them.
"Yeah, everyone gelled really well," Harry grinned.
"You should've seen us, Hermione; we're gonna win the cup this year, I just know it." Ron interrupted excitedly.
"Well, I wouldn't go that far just yet, but we are pretty decent," Harry said with pride.
Hermione switched off a little but resisted reaching into her rucksack for a book, as her friends launched into talk of tactics and moves, and winning the house cup
They snuggled up around the roaring fireplace, basking in its warmth, laughing and chatting for what seemed the first time in ages. She felt like she did not spend enough time with her friends lately, especially Ginny.
Ron, Harry and Hermione were initially shocked at the sheer increase in their workload now that they were N.E.W.T students; even now, over a month into the term, they were all struggling to keep on top of the mass of assignments, though it was Harry that seemed to be struggling the most.
It was nice to have an afternoon forgetting about work, for once.
Hermione turned to Ginny. "Has Ron told you about Hagrid's puppies?"
Ginny shook her head before glaring at Ron who just shrugged in reply.
"I named the girl one after you," Hermione smiled at Ginny's coos. "She's called Ginger; she's the only girl out of a litter of seven."
"Like me," Ginny grinned. "I'll have to go down to Hagrid's hut one afternoon and meet my namesake."
"I can't wait for the feast tonight," Ron grinned interrupting.
"Do you think about anything else but food?" Ginny mocked elbowing him quite fiercely in the ribs.
"Ow," Ron winced clutching at his side before lashing out at his retaliation. He groaned as she dodged it. "I wasn't on about the food anyway. I love Halloween,"
Hermione nodded. "Me too, even though Halloween was never really a big thing for me growing up."
"Really?" Ron guffawed. "Mum always made us celebrate it,"
"I think it's different for Muggles," she replied.
Ron nodded taking in the new information, despite both of his friends growing up in the Muggle world, he was quite ignorant of their lives.
"Don't muggles celebrate Halloween at all then?" he questioned.
"Some do," Hermione affirmed. "Muggle children go trick or treating."
"Trick or treating? What's that?"
Harry laughed as he answered, "Well muggle children get dressed up as various monsters and go knocking on their neighbour's door for sweets."
"Really? They go begging for sweets… That's awesome. What kind of monsters do they dress up as? All mum did for Halloween was cook a special dinner," he moaned.
Hermione chuckled to herself. She had often suspected that Arthur Weasley's fascination with Muggles had rubbed off a little of his son. There had been many times Harry or Hermione had casually mentioned something muggle, and Ron followed up with a hundred questions. Once Harry had mentioned his cousin Dudley's Playstation, and he did not hear the end of it for weeks. Ron had wanted Harry to steal it and bring it to school for them to play in the evenings but Hermione quickly shot down this idea after reminding him that electrical items do not work at Hogwarts due to the magical interference. He had sulked for a few days after.
Harry and Ron whiled away the afternoon with several games of wizarding chess while Hermione and Ginny chatted excitedly about the upcoming Hogsmeade visit and caught up on each other's gossip.
As soon as darkness threatened the daylight, sparks flickered on the floating torches before they burst into flame. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were some of the last to leave as the Gryffindor students began to filter out of the Common Room.
"Shall we go down," Ron asked, looking hopeful.
"Come on then," Ginny huffed, rolling her eyes.
The Great Hall had been transformed for the occasion; the sheer amount of orange bathing the room felt like an assault on the eyes. Above them live bats weaved in and out of orange streamers that had been hung from the enchanted ceiling causing them to resemble orange fireworks on the night's sky. Skulls hung from the ends of the house flag, flagpoles and cobwebs engulfed the walls.
Hagrid's pumpkins had been carved and were sat all about the room, some of the smaller ones even floated above the tables. Hermione had to push her way through crowds of students who gathered to pick armfuls of toffee apples from the trees placed intermittently between the house tables.
As they took their seats, Hermione and Ginny chuckled at the tiny skeletons that danced the can-can up and down the Gryffindor table. Hundreds of black candles set in grand candelabra's illuminating the house tables and much to Ron's chagrin, the enchanted toy spiders that scuttled about the plates.
He edged away from the table in his seat moaning, "They better stop when we eat,"
The room grew silent as the headmaster rose from his chair to address them all.
"Happy Halloween," he started, beaming across the hall. "As you may know, All Hallow's Eve was traditionally a festival to remember and celebrate the lives of our loved ones and the recently departed. During these dark times, I think it prudent for us to take a moment to remember those who have sacrificed their lives in the name of good and justice." The Headmaster regarded the room solemnly before Hermione noticed a twinkle in his eye as he gave them a warm smile. "However, Halloween is also a time for celebration and childish folly so without further adieu, let's pig out and have fun." With his words, the table's filled with dishes of delectable food as students, from all houses, cheered.
Everyone dug in filling their plates with various meats and pies, vegetables and sides. Ron moaned with longing as he admired his tower of food, but before he could thrust his fork in, an enchanted spider ran across his plate, settling on a mound of buttery mashed potato.
"Well I'm not eating that," he moaned pushing the plate away.
His friends laughed. "Ron, refusing food. I never thought I'd see the day," Harry gasped mockingly.
Ginny laughed as she held out her hand for Harry to shake it. "I bet you ten sickle he eats it anyway."
"You're on," Harry shook her hand to confirm it, looking confident of his winnings. There was nothing more on this earth that Ron hated more than spiders.
Ron's face grew redder by the minute at his friends joking as he resisted the food. Hermione saw his longing glances, but he seemed determined not to prove his sister right.
Temptation proved to be too much, and Ron finally gave in to his stomach's urges with a huff, picking at his food like a child told to eat their vegetables. Ginny and Harry were doubled over on the bench howling with laughter, their faces inches from the plates of food. Hermione at least tried to suppress her giggles to save her friend's feelings, though her efforts did not amount to much as she found herself unable to hold them in for long.
Ginny held out her her waiting palm to Harry. "You owe me ten sickles, Potter," she demanded jokingly.
All of the tension that had been building up in her shoulders and neck, for the past few months melted away as she enjoyed forgetting everything just for one day and being a normal kid with her friends.
After dessert had arrived and been consumed, hums of confusion and curiosity filled the hall as the teachers vacated their table and moved into the crowd of students, at Professor Dumbledore's command. With a wave of his wand, the teacher's table was forced back to be piled up against the wall. He instructed everyone else to stand up from their seats and repeated the action with each of the house tables. The confusion was replaced with gasps of excitement and screams of joy as five stunning witches burst out of the door next to where the teacher's table had sat.
"It gives me the greatest pleasure to introduce to the band that has rapidly been overtaking our airwaves. Let's all give a warm welcome to music's newest superstars, The Coven," Dumbledore shouted over the chattering crowd. The witches took their positions on the stage and began to sing a number of catchy melodies; all with accompanying dance moves.
"Come on let's dance," Ginny begged, dragging Hermione to the front of the hall where hundreds of other students were already lost in the music.
The temperature of the room did not stop rising as the masses of students congregated aound the stage, jumping and twisting about. Ginny pulled Hermione from the crowd to get a drink from the fountain that flowed with a neon pink punch. Harry and Ron awkwardly hung around the drinks area looking uncomfortable at the random displays of dancing bursting out across the room. The two girls tried their hardest to convince the boys to join them on the dancefloor, but they both vehemently denied the request. Although, Hermione did notice Harry nod his head and bop about with small jerky movements when she and Ginny returned to the music.
Neville and Luna joined the two girls, all of them dancing around like raving loonies. Hermione ignored her aching feet, knowing she'd regret the pulsating blisters that formed on her soles, in the morning.
Too soon the Headmaster was ordering the students to bed; everyone moaned despite it being three hours after their normal curfew. The corridors were filled with giggles as students reluctantly trudged the halls to find the comfort of their beds, after a long night of partying. Hermione and Ginny said goodnight to the boys but continued talking for an or hour so in Ginny's dormitory before finally going to bed themselves.
Hermione found herself staring into those familiar blue eyes once more.
The Raven clucked its beak. "Hermione," she called.
"What," Hermione tried to scream, but no words came out. Her legs carried her through the formless mist to approach the tree; she did not take her eyes from the bird's as she moved.
A glint in the Raven's eye grew, changing the colour from ocean blue to a bubbling white, it was if she were looking at a reflection of river in a mirror.
Hermione moved closer until her nose was almost touching the Raven's beak, it did not flinch instead holding her gaze, inviting her in.
She watched the rushing water pool in the Raven's eyes. "What does it mean?" she whispered edging in even closer.
As her skin touched the Raven's cold, sharp beak, she felt her body being pulled into the Raven's eyes as if she had fallen through a Pensieve.
Hermione looked around at her forming surroundings, she was standing at the very edge of the water on a small island. Tall pillars, cracked and broken from age, circled a stone dais; empty except for a few sprouting weeds and a large altar.
A hooded man cackled over the form of a woman, who lay frozen, on the stone monument. Hermione struggled to hear his words, as she stood detached from the scene, unable to move.
"Who better to help me in this endeavour than you, Narcissa. Slytherin Princess; Heir to both the Black and the Malfoy throne's." his voice dripped like silk. "There could not be any truer pureblood."
Hermione felt sickened as she recognised Narcissa Malfoy, who seemed to be under the Full Body-Binding Curse. The blonde woman stared up unable to defend herself from her attacker.
Hermione tried to shout out as she saw a glint of metal as the fearsome man withdrew a silver dagger from within his robes.
"No," a voice screamed as a flash of blonde darted across the dais.
Hermione watched Draco run out from behind a pillar, in a bid to save his mother, but the Dark Lord was too fast. The man thrust out his hand, and Draco was slammed against solid stone before slumping down into an unconscious heap.
The Dark Lord turned back to Narcissa and in a flash thrust the blade into her chest. He struggled with the knife as he pulled it out, to thrust it back in again, directly over her heart.
"Tonight, you and I will make history, Narcissa," Voldemort retrieved a small stone goblet from his robes and withdrew the knife from Narcissa's heart. She coughed and spluttered without a sound as blood poured from her mouth and nose. Dark patches rapidly engulfed the midnight blue velvet of her robes.
He wiped the blade that dripped with the still warm blood, on the edge of the cup. "Tonight, I truly will become all-powerful," he cackled maniacally as he raised the goblet into the air before lowering it to his lips and letting the blood drip onto his waiting tongue.
A/N: I'm sorry if it seems a little repetitive to keep ending the chapters with a dream (and another feast); I promise this will be the last time. I was going to add this dream in the next chapter, but this one would be extremely boring and pointless without it and the next chapter already had plenty of action soo... Anyway thank you all for your continued support, I really do appreciate it xD
