Just to be clear, this is NOT a Ron-bashing fic! Or anyone-bashing. Ron's behavior is based on the fact that he is honestly just as prejudiced as Draco in everything but whether or not Muggle-borns should be allowed at Hogwarts. And even when it comes to talking about the things Muggles do, Ron's comments in the books make it clear he's still slightly prejudiced - just in that he thinks they're crazy, not in the way that he hates them.

Also being that he and Draco don't like each other, that means that Draco's friends won't like him in this story either. So no Harry&Ron friendship, at least for now. I'm not saying that Ron and Hermione won't ever be friends with Alan and Harry and company, but this will never be a Gryffindor Golden Trio/Quartet story.

Chapter 13: Halloween

On Halloween morning the students awoke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. It was a pleasant way to greet the day, and certainly brought most of them out of their beds with a smile. In some cases, there was even a bit of a bounce in their step.

For everyone except Alan.

Once again he lay in bed, head buried underneath his pillow and refusing to move. He hated Halloween. With a passion. As far as he was concerned, the day should be striken from all calenders and never spoken of again.

"Alan, come on," Harry groaned, tugging at the blankets. "You can't miss breakfast."

"There's pumpkin bread," Neville offered tentatively, giving a half-hearted pull from the other side.

"M' not getting up," Alan informed his mattress. "Not 'til tomorrow."

"You have to get up. We have classes, and they won't let you skiv unless you're in the hospital wing. Trust me, I've tried," Harry persisted.

"Don't bloody care."

"Someone's a bit cranky this morning," Seamus Finnegan remarked mildly, sounding amused.

Alan's fists clenched.

"He um, had trouble sleeping," Neville mumbled awkwardly.

"Alan gets cranky when he doesn't sleep enough," Harry added.

Seamus snickered. "Does someone need a nap?" he mocked.

Growling furiously, he surged upright, sending blankets flying and Harry and Neville stumbling backwards with cries of surprise. "No," Alan hissed, eyes narrowing dangerously at his startled roommates. "Alan does not need a bloody nap. Alan needs everyone to just back the bloody hell off, all right?"

Ron Weasley stared at him, looking surprised. "Maybe you should try going to bed earlier, mate. Might do you a bit of good."

Snatching his wand of his nightstand, he sent a stinging hex at Ron before the red-head could do more than yelp in pain. Shoving his wand into his pocket as he got feet, he leveled everyone in the room with a glare. "The next person to so much as breathe in my direction will get a lot worse," he snarled, snatching up his robes for the day and storming into the bathroom.

No one spoke to him after that. Harry and Neville waited for him before heading to breakfast, but they made a point to talk quietly with each other instead and leave Alan alone. At least one good thing had come out of the other night's adventure, Alan thought darkly.

The look Pansy gave him when he dropped into his seat at the table was considering, but there seemed to be a hint of understanding in her eyes he hadn't seen on anyone else's face. She said nothing however, only brushed his elbow gently before asking Draco to pass the syrup.

Alan spent most of the meal eating in silence, staring at his plate and ignoring the people around him. Only Pansy's voice eventually caught his attention, and it was more for what she was saying than the fact that she was speaking at all. Pansy loved information, and already had one of the best gossip and social networks in the school. If there was anything worth knowing, she was the one to know about it.

"Did you hear," she was murmuring just enough for the group at her table to hear, as well as Harry as he leaned in close, "That Montague and Flint have been in the hospital wing since yesterday? Rumor has it that someone hexed them beyond recognition, but they won't say who it was."

Draco snorted. "Must be too embarasssed."

"Those gits deserve whatever they get," Harry said darkly, reaching for his toast.

Alan spared just enough thought to wonder who might have done it. It seemed a bit too coincidental that Montague and Flint, who weren't exactly friends and shared only a house, happened to be attacked as a pair. As far as he was aware, the only thing either of them had done recently was the wizard's duel Flint had with him, but the only ones who knew about that were -

He lifted his head enough to eye Pansy thoughtfully, but while smug at the information, she wasn't dropping any hints that she really did know who'd done it. That meant it hadn't been her or Blaise, who had been the only other people present when he'd accepted the duel. And he knew it wasn't Harry or Neville. And that left -

He stared at his pumpkin juice for several moments, wondering. At last he shrugged it off, deciding it didn't matter, and downed the rest of the goblet.

The rest of the day didn't improve any from that point. Halloween was a very big holiday for the wizarding world, and most of their classes for the day seemed to have been themed in favor of it. Herbology had them dealing with the massive pumpkins the gameskeeper, Hagrid, had been growing in his garden for the feast being planned for dinner. Even Transfiguration involved a demonstration on turning lanterns into glowing pumpkins.

Charms was nearly the saving grace of the day, when Flitwick finally announced that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly - something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the castle. He put them into pairs to practice, and Alan found himself with Neville, who was respectful enough of his black mood to be fairly quiet and not ask too many questions. Harry was stuck with Finnegan, and Alan almost cheered up a little when Finnegan accidentally set their feather on fire.

But then Weasley, who'd been paired with Hermione Granger, had to push his luck.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Weasley shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," Granger snapped at him. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

Weasley, who never took to criticism very well, promptly snarled back "You do it, then, if you're so clever."

Granger rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Their feather rose up off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

Weasley, of course, was insulted by being told what to do by someone who actually had an idea of what they were doing. "It's no wonder no one can stand her," Alan heard her tell Finnegan and Dean Thomas as everyone pushed their way into the corridor at the end of the class, "She's a nightmare, honestly."

Thomas stumbled slightly, making Alan stop short to keep from bumping into him, and they both turned to see who had shoved past. It was Hermione, and Alan caught a glimpse of tears on her face just before she ran down the hall.

"I think she heard you," Thomas told Weasley quietly.

"So?" Weasley returned, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must have noticed she's got no friends."

Gritting his teeth at the insensitive comment, Alan gripped his wand, subtly aiming it at Weasley's bag. "Diffindo!" he muttered, smirking slightly as the bag split at the seams, sending a shower of books, parchment, a quill, and a couple bottles of ink to the floor. The ink bottles promptly shattered.

Stepping carefully over the mess as Weasley swore and cursed his 'faulty' second-hand bag, Alan slipped his wand into his pocket. He ignored the looks Harry and Neville were giving him.

Stupid git should know better than make a girl cry, he thought indifferently.

He spent the rest of the afternoon wrapped back up in his blankets in his dorm, curtains drawn around the bed. It was common practice to take a nap before Astrononmy class that night, so no one bothered him. But Alan wasn't sleeping.

Instead he'd cast a silencing charm around his bed, buried his face in his pillow, and finally gave into the urge to cry.

He hated Halloween.

Most people saw it as a holiday. The Ministry was known for throwing large, elaborate parties to celebrate, where everyone drank firewhiskey or spiced wine, reminiscing about relatives passed briefly before moving on to commemorating the fall of You-Know-Who. Alan was always brought out for Minister Fudge to show off, smiling and nodding as everyone wished him a Happy Halloween, shaking their hands and accepting their thanks for defeating the Dark Lord. They never bothered to notice when he didn't say anything in response.

For Alan, Halloween wasn't a holiday. It was the day his parents had been murdered, and he'd been left an orphan. It was the beginning of his life as the Ministry's pet. For him it was a day to grieve, and instead, people were celebrating it.

And this year he had the knowledge that it was only his mother that had died ten years ago today. Now he knew that somewhere in the world, he had a father. A father who didn't even remember he existed.

He'd never felt so alone in his life.

He eventually emerged just in time to scrub at his eyes and slip into the Great Hall for dinner before he was missed and someone came to get him. He'd have avoided it completely if he could have, but he knew Harry would have dragged him if he'd tried. The other boy always insisted it was never healthy to brood. And he wouldn't put it past Harry to rat him out to Aunt Lily if he skipped a meal.

He ignored the decorations and the cheery greetings many people gave him, focusing instead on his plate and waiting impatiently for the food to appear. The faster he'd eaten something, the sooner he could escape again. He could already feel more than one set of eyes on him, and had to fight not to snap at them. He'd already cursed Weasley plenty of times today, and hexing anyone else in front of multiple witnesses was just stupid.

"Did you find Hermione?" he heard Lavender Brown ask.

He glanced up.

"Still in the loo," Parvati Patil returned, sounding somewhat sympathetic, but only mildly concerned as she began to load her plate. "She said she wanted to be left alone."

Frowning, he'd just reached for a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Toll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know."

Then he sank to the floor in a dead faint.

Pandemonium broke out. Several students started screaming, and teachers scrambled up from their chairs. It took several purple fireworks exploding overhead from the end of Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he commanded, "Lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy Weasley promptly leapt to his feet with a disturbingly cheerful expression. "Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

Alan followed obediently along with the rest, making sure to hang to the back of the crowd. They'd be sending someone for him shortly, he figured. Maybe Virgil, since he was Head Boy and seemed to like Alan for some reason. Would there be time to grab his sword from upstairs in his trunk, he wondered, or would they want him to take care of the problem as soon as possible, even if it was just with his wand?

And that's when he remembered Hermione.