Halloween could not go unnoticed at Hogwarts. The week leading up to the celebration, there were jack'o'lanterns and magicked cobwebs everywhere you looked. To Hadrian's quiet surprise, the decorations seemed to strike a nerve in many of his fellow Slytherins; a black cloud hung over them, and they were liable to snap at anyone when the decorations were in view. Even Zabini, who could usually be counted on to remain cool and collected no matter the circumstances, was prickly, lashing out at his housemates over the most minor annoyances. At first, Hadrian couldn't understand why, and he was loathe to admit to anyone he didn't know; but eventually Tracey seemed to notice his confusion.

"They're insulted," she said one morning as the two of them trekked up from the greenhouses together.

"Hm?"

"The Slytherins. The pureblood families especially; the ones who still celebrate the Samhain, and the Old Rites. That's why they hate the Halloween decorations so much."

Hadrian looked at her carefully. "They're upset because Hogwarts is celebrating the muggle adaptation of their holiday?"

Tracey nodded. "Exactly. Imagine if the institution that was meant to educate you, and introduce newcomers to your culture, erased your religious holidays in an attempt to make the transition for these newcomers easier. Halloween is a cheap muggle caricature of what Samhain is meant to be."

Hadrain tilted his head. "I knew there were strong ties to Paganism in the wizarding world, but I never really expected… well. This." He paused. "How do you know all of this? Aren't you a halfblood?"
Tracey didn't look offended. "Yes, but my mother was a pureblood. She still celebrates the Old Rites, although she hasn't allowed me to join her yet. They can be… taxing, magically, and she says I'm not old enough." There was a bite of frustration to her tone, but it wasn't bitter.

"What exactly do the Old Rites entail, on Samhain?" Hadrian asked casually. Tracey was turning out to be a veritable well of information, and he knew, unlike his other housemates, that she wouldn't look down on him for not already knowing.

"It depends. There are different ways to celebrate, different rituals you can perform, and some are more dangerous and fruitful than others. Nobody underage should perform the full rites, our magical cores aren't strong enough, but there are adapted rituals that allow us to participate. Most involve a magical cleansing and then a ritual to strengthen our magical cores. On Samhain, the veil between worlds is the thinnest, and some attempt to communicate with those on the other side."

Hadrian's heart thudded dully beneath his chest. "Does… does it work? Can people talk to the dead?"

Tracey shrugged. "Sometimes. People say they usually get more of a… feeling , than an actual conversation, but it's been known to happen."

Hadrian had to try very hard to school his features into mild disinterest as they approached the castle. If he could really breach the veil, if he could truly communicate with those who had passed…

… maybe he could talk to Shade.

His eyes stung and he could feel a burn in his chest. He would not cry, not here, not in front of his enemies - and more importantly, not in front of his allies. Greengrass and the rest may have allowed him to claw his way from exile through his show of strength, but they were still vultures, circling and waiting for him to show weakness before they could swoop down and tear him to pieces. Especially Nott. The small, ferret-faced boy had been perfectly civil since the duel, but Hadrian didn't trust him one bit. His shifty eyes and violent tongue did little to hide the hunger that lay beneath.

So Hadrian pushed the pain down and locked it away, following Tracey to lunch as if her explanation had left him interested but not intrigued, and filed her information away.

That evening, when studying for Charms with Greengrass, Zabini and Bulstrode, he dipped his quill into his inkwell and asked casually, "So… what are your plans for Samhain?"

There was a very distinct silence before Greengrass spoke. "I didn't know you celebrated Samhain, Potter," she said carefully.

He smiled. "As of yet, only in spirit, I'm afraid," he admitted. "I haven't been allowed to actually participate until now - my guardians deemed me too young - but they said I could partake in a ritual at Hogwarts, provided I don't do it alone." There was a second pause, and Hadrian knew he was taking a gamble. For a moment, when the three only stared at him, he wondered if they saw through the lie, or perhaps Tracey had gotten it wrong, or even fed him false information -

But then Bulstrode interrupted his stream of thought. "I was intending to participate in an Old Rite, but my mother made me swear not to do so without a trained conduit, a teacher or an older student." Zabini grunted in agreement, and Greengrass nodded.

"We were planning on asking Leroy Parkinson, Pansy's older brother," she told Hadrian, "but seeing as we aren't exactly on good terms with his sister at the moment, I doubt he'd be inclined to say yes."

"It was meant to be my first time participating, and not just watching," Bulstrode said grumpily, eyeing the jack'o'lantern on Madam Pince's desk with a scowl. "Last year Father was going to allow it, but my parents were doing the Rite with the Farleys and they weren't letting their youngest participate. Mother didn't want to seem careless, or make the Farleys think she was 'endangering' me." Bitterness clouded her tone.

"Besides," Greengrass continued, "Dumbledore would never condone it. I doubt he even knows some of the students still perform the Rites."

Hadrian furrowed a brow. "You really think he'd ban his students from celebrating the traditional way?"

Greengrass let out a humorless laugh. "The Old Rites are Dark magic, Potter. The Headmaster abhors anything related to the art. No, if we manage to find a conduit, we'll also have to find somewhere to conduct the rituals without being found out. The supplies won't be an issue, I packed them all, but without a conduit and somewhere hidden, we may have to wait until next year."

Hadrian found out from Bulstrode that not all the old Dark families practiced the Old Rites. However, in their year, Goyle was the only Slytherin who didn't. When the study group returned to the common room and up to their dormitories, Hadrian lingered by the fireplace, searching the common room. He blinked when Gemma Farley, one of the fifth-year prefects, stepped through the entrance to the common room. She was walking with a friend, and so Hadrian used a gentle tug of wandless magic to split the seam in her bookbag. Her books slid out and fell to the floor. Her friend stopped to help but Farley waved her on and knelt by herself, piling the books into her arms. Willing a cool look of confidence onto his face, Hadrian approached Farley.

"Evening, Potter," she said with a smile when she noticed him. "Don't know what happened, I just bought this bag a month ago…"

Hadrian shrugged. "Bad luck."

Farley looked at him, her gaze sharpening. "Yes," she agreed, although her tone implied she knew it was anything but, "Must have been." Hadrian bent down to help her. "Is there something I can do for you, Potter?" She asked, an eyebrow raised.

"As a matter of fact," Hadrian replied, "I have a favour to ask." He lowered his voice, and Farley leant forward, her expression intrigued. "Your family performed the Old Rites with the Bulstrode family last Samhain, didn't they?" Farley's intrigued features morphed into an expressionless mask.

"They did," she replied tonelessly.

Hadrian grinned. "Well, as a house leader, and the oldest child in a Dark family that celebrates the Old Rites… I'm guessing you've been trained as a conduit." Farley's expression slid gently from defensive to amused.

"I see."

"Well, a few of my yearmates were looking forward to performing an adapted version of the Old Rites, and have recently found themselves without a willing conduit. I was wondering if you may be willing to step in."

He held his breath as she looked at him quietly. Then she let out a low laugh. "You certainly are an enigma, Potter. I can't seem to figure you out." She cocked her head, a slow grin forming across her face. "Alright. I'll do it. Tell your friends to meet me in the duelling pit at eleven at night on Samhain." She had finished gathering up her books, and after a quick mending charm, she shoved them all back into her bag and made to turn away.

"Wait," Hadrian stopped her, a little confused, "That's it? You don't want anything in return?"

Farley laughed. "You really are a true Slytherin, aren't you? And who says I'm not getting something in return?" At his confused look, she elaborated. "The Old Ways are already beginning to fall into dust and sand. If I can help the new generation continue with them, then I'll do it. Besides, it can't hurt to be on The-Boy-Who-Lived's good side." With that she turned and ascended the stairs to the girls' dormitories, leaving Hadrian to stare after her with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He wanted to believe that really was all she wanted in return, but after nearly two months living in Slytherin, he knew there was slim chance of it being true. He didn't like feeling off balance, but he knew there wasn't much he could do about it at the moment.

The next morning, as the first-years filed out of the Dungeons, Hadrian could hear Weasley quarreling angrily with Granger.

"You just enjoy watching me fail, is that it? What, does it give you some sick satisfaction to know that you're so much better than me?" Weasley snapped.

Granger scowled at him. "I tried to help you, last week, and you told me to mind my own business!"

Weasley's ears reddened. "You weren't being helpful, you were just insulting my potion!"

As the two of them argued, Hadrian realized now would be the perfect time to initiate a plan he'd been forming for some weeks now. "Do you hear yourself, Weasley?" Hadrian drawled. "You're jealous of her talent but won't allow her to help you… are you delusional, or just that thick?"

Weasley whirled around to face Hadrian. "And what do you know about anything? You're just a bully who's been brainwashed by the snakes!" He clearly hadn't forgiven Hadrian for hexing him.

Hadrian put his hands up placatingly. "Cutting insult, by the way - imagine how hurt I am when you compare me to my house standard - but I'm simply stating the obvious. Granger's clearly far more talented than you, and when you should be groveling at her feet and asking for her to tutor you, instead you're… what? Calling her a know-it-all? That's certainly an interesting tactic, if not a particularly bright one."

Hadrian very carefully kept his body facing Weasley's, but his gaze flickered to Granger. Shock and confusion was written across her face, and Hadrian hoped there was a little gratitude hidden underneath.

Weasley took a step toward, bristling. "Are you calling me stupid?"

Hadrian heard Tracey let out a snort behind him. "Wow," Hadrian remarked, "Would you look at that! It can understand intelligent communication." A few more chuckles resounded behind him as the Slytherins gathered around the commotion. Greengrass was frowning curiously, but none of them stepped in, for which Hadrian was grateful. "Give it a rest, weasel," Hadrian advised the other boy. "If you devoted as much energy into studying as you did into coming up with ridiculous ways to insult those smarter than you, perhaps you wouldn't look such a fool in lessons." Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and walked away from the gaping Gryffindors.

"You going to explain what that was about?" Tracey murmured when she caught up to him. The corner or his mouth ticked up.

"Maybe. If my plan works."

Tracey rolled her eyes but didn't press the subject. "You could at least come up with someone more creative than 'weasel.' Especially since you stole that from Greengrass."

Hadrian grinned. "Ah, but it's so fitting! Why mess with perfection?" At Tracey's look, his grin widened. "If you roll your eyes one more time, I think they might fall out of your head."

Tracey pushed him playfully and it was Hadrian's turn to roll his eyes.

The evening of the Halloween feast, as he slid into his seat between Zabini and Tracey, he noticed nearly everyone at the Slytherin table was scowling. It wasn't difficult to see why; there were a thousand live bats swooping through the hall, and the floating candles had been replaced with jack'o'lanterns.

"The mudblood infestation is getting out of hand," Nott said angrily, who was pulling the legs off of a rubber spider one-by-one. Nott reminded Hadrian remarkably of Piers Polkiss, and he couldn't help but dwell on the unpleasant comparison whenever Nott spoke.

"This has nothing to do with the voluntary choices of muggleborns, Nott," Hadrian said shortly. "It was the headmaster's choice to replace our traditions with this… insulting muggle celebration."

Nott's gaze snapped to Hadrian's. "Back to defending muggles and mudbloods, are we, Potter?"

Hadrian smiled coldly. "Your prejudiced spiel does grow tiresome, Nott, especially when a muggleborn and a halfblood are beating you in every class. Or do you believe you're more skillful than us? By all means, follow in Malfoy's footsteps. Show us how much better you are." Nott didn't respond, but he also didn't break Hadrian's gaze. He merely looked at him, spite roiling in his pale eyes.

Hadrian let out a breath when Nott finally looked away. He knew he couldn't keep relying on the duel to get people to back down forever, but for now he would allow himself the luxury. It would give him the time to develop his arsenal.

"Whoever's to blame," Greengrass interrupted coolly, "Nott's right about one thing. It's gotten out of control. We have to duck and hide to perform the traditional Old Rites, what Samhain is meant to be about, while this muggle parody is shoved in our faces. It's foul."

Zabini stabbed a piece of turkey with his fork. "It's not like we'd be able to participate anyway," he said dully, "Not without a conduit."

Hadrian met Tracey's eyes before the corner of his mouth lifted into a crooked smirk. "Well," he started slowly, "that's not, strictly speaking, exactly true."

Four heads lifted to stare at him. "What are you talking about?" Bulstrode demanded, and Hadrian's smirk grew.

"I found us a willing conduit."

Greengrass narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "How? You don't know many upper years, and you can't approach any of them without risking they'll report you."

"Who is it?" Zabini asked, ignoring her.

"Gemma Farley."

Bulstrode let out a quick breath. "Of course," she muttered. "My family performed the Rites with her's last year, but she was at Hogwarts so she wasn't involved. I never thought of that."

"How did you get her to agree to this?" Greengrass asked, cocking her head.

Hadrian shrugged. "Don't worry about that. We have an agreement." When Bulstrode clapped him roughly on the shoulder, Hadrian's nails dug into his palms and he had to try very hard to resist the urge to punch her in the gut.

"Well," she said with a grin, "I'm not one to look a gift hippogriff in the mouth. We owe you one, Potter," she said, and Hadrian couldn't help but notice the others straightened slightly up in their seats at the words. He pretended to shrug it off, but his green eyes lit at the concession.

As the feast continued, there was a noticeable improvement in everyone's attitude toward the festivities, and Hadrian couldn't help but feel pleased with himself. He'd accomplished a considerable amount in the past week, and he felt he deserved it. He ate as much pumpkin casserole as he could, but didn't forget to slide a few spiced rolls into his bag when he was sure no one was looking.

"It was a bit awkward," Bulstrode was saying, "because what are you supposed to do when you walk into the loo and see a girl crying? But then it got worse, because Patil and Brown came in afterwards and of course they thought I'd done something to make Granger cry, and so they were all accusing. Granger just locked herself in her stall and so I left to find a different bathroom, but I bet Brown and Patil are going to go around telling everyone I did something."

Greengrass nodded. "They're not exactly the type to give the benefit of the doubt," she responded darkly, and Hadrian's forehead creased. He looked to the Gryffindor table, but there was no sign of Granger. She must still be there.

"Granger was crying?"

Greengrass looked at him, a thin eyebrow raised. "You seem to have a remarkable interest in the Gryffindor girl."

Malfoy, who the rest of them had so far managed to give the cold shoulder, snorted. "Of course he does," he spat. "He's a muggle-defending halfblood, no wonder he's in love with the mudblood." Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind him, and Parkinson laughed uneasily, her gaze flying from Hadrian to Malfoy.

"Malfoy," Hadrian replied pleasantly, "You are truly embarrassing to behold. You make these wild, prejudiced claims you have no way of backing up, insult the blood status of those who are far smarter and more skilled at magic than you will ever be, challenge me to a duel and then, after losing, disgrace yourself further by trying to hex me after the duel is over, and now you come up with these flavourless insults we've all heard a hundred times before… it's truly a sad sight."

Malfoy opened his mouth to respond, livid, when Professor Quirrell came running into the Great Hall, looking terrified (well, more terrified than normal). A silence fell over the feast as he reached the teacher's table and gasped out, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know." Then he collapsed to the floor in a faint.

The silence stretched out for only a few moments before a clamourous uproar sang through the hall. Everyone was yelling and it took several loud bangs from Dumbledore's wand to lull the commotion.

"Prefects!" He called loudly, "Lead your houses back to their dormitories immediately!"

The Slytherins looked at each other. "Our dormitories are in the dungeons," Nott said, dumbfounded. Hadrian grimaced and looked to the Slytherin prefects, who were in a quiet discussion. Finally, they seemed to come to an agreement.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Called Horus Rosier. "We ask the Slytherin students be allowed to remain in the Great Hall until the troll is contained."

Dumbledore gave a short nod, and Tracey let out an audible sigh of relief. Hadrian was too preoccupied to be relieved, however - he'd just had a terrible thought.

"Granger never arrived at the feast," he muttered in Tracey's ear. "She doesn't know about the troll. Someone has to warn her."

Tracey gaped at him. "You can't be serious," she hissed. "That's unbelievably stupid. Just tell a teacher!"

Hadrian nodded. "I'm not completely thick, I do have some regard for my own life, you know," he said. "Although…" he tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. It was a risk, a big one, but the payoff could potentially accomplish what would otherwise take months, perhaps longer. Tracey made to grab his wrist, but Hadrian quickly jerked out of the way. She didn't seem to notice.

"You cannot be this foolish. This is something ridiculous a Gryffindor would do, you'll be in so much trouble, and besides, what if the troll has moved? You can't just -"

"Cover for me," he pleaded. She scowled at him.

"If you die," she said grumpily, but defeated, "I'm going to summon you every Samhain to berate you for being a prat."

"You're a gem, darling," he replied with a wink, before slipping away from the Slytherin table in the commotion of the other three houses trying to leave the Great Hall at once. Once out, he waded through a group of Hufflepuffs and ducked into a deserted side corridor, hurrying towards the girls' toilets.

When he noticed movement he hid quickly behind a stone gargoyle. It was Snape - for some reason, he was heading not towards the dungeons with the rest of the teachers, but up a flight of stairs. He shrugged it off; he assumed it wouldn't take all the teachers to subdue the troll. At least, he hoped not.

He crept quietly along the corridor, wand in hand, when a foul odor reached his nose - worse than the sweaty fighting pits, worse than any rubbish dump - and was closely followed by the loud, thumping footfalls of enormous feet and a snuffling, grumbling sound. Hadrian inhaled sharply, and suddenly felt far less sure about this than he had before. However, he knew he needed to do this, and so he forced himself to approach the source of the stench.

What he found was not exactly an inspiring sight. Twelve feet of grey hide towered in front of the door to the girls' bathroom, the troll's lumpy body making it waddle on its two horned feet. Hadrian grimaced as he beheld the enormous wooden club it held longer than Hadrian's body. It bent down and peered into the bathroom before grunting and shoving its way inside. Hadrian swore quietly and approached slowly, holding his wand out in front of him.

Then a shrill scream arose from within the bathroom and Hadrian's cursing grew more audible. Fuck it , he thought, here goes nothing. He sprinted into the bathroom to see Granger huddled against the opposite wall, pale as a ghost and looking close to fainting. The troll leered over her, dragging its great club behind it.

Hadrian took a slow breath - he had to be smart about this. Granger witnessing this would complicate things, but he hoped faintly it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

"Locomotor Mortis!" He cried; hopefully a leg-locker curse would hinder it enough for Hadrian to come up with something else, he couldn't allow it to injure Hermione - the spell collided with the troll and it roared, but was still able to move its legs.

However, now Hadrian had its attention. It turned around slowly, it's pale and watery eyes fixing upon Hadrian. He gritted his teeth. Just another Fight, he told himself firmly. Just a big, dumb opponent. Granger's just the crowd.

The troll swung his club clumsily at Hadrian's head and he dove underneath it, sliding closer to Granger. "Flipendo!" Once more, the spell had no effect. It only seemed to agitate the beast. What was happening?

"It's hide!' Yelled Granger from behind the troll. "It's resistant to magic!"

Hadrian cursed loudly. "What the fuck do I do now?" He half shouted at her, diving under a second swing of the club.

"The club!" She shouted, and Hadrian understood.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" He called firmly, and the club flew out of the troll's fist. The troll looked up to see it hover above him before Hadrian released the spell and it fell from the air, landing on the troll's head with a solid thunk. The troll swayed in place before collapsing.

Hadrian got to his feet and pressed a gentle toe against the troll's shoulder; it didn't move.

"Is it… dead?" Granger asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Hadrian shook his head as he crossed the floor and offered a hand out to her. "Just unconscious." Granger smiled shakily and took it, letting him pull her to her feet.

"Thank you," she said quietly, tears swimming in her eyes. Hadrian panicked for a moment, hoping she wasn't about to start crying, but she blinked them away.

"It was nothing, Granger," he said with a chuckle. She snorted.

"You should call me Hermione. You did save my life, after all."

Hadrian smiled, and felt a pulse of satisfaction. "Hermione then. I suppose facing a troll together does warrant a first-name basis. Alright; call me Hadrian." The gratitude in Hermione's eyes glimmered brighter, and it struck Hadrian that this girl might not have had a single friend in the school up until this moment. He wondered if he ought to feel guilty, but then he realized that he did, actually, like Hermione. He wasn't just using her.

That complicated things.

The two of them turned to face the troll again. They took a step over the troll's thick tree-stump of a leg when there was a low grunt, and the troll's fingers twitched; he was stirring.

"Damn it," Hadrian said under his breath. "Hermione, get out of here - send for a teacher."

Hermione took a step toward the door before pausing. She turned back around and crossed her arms. "No. I'm not leaving you alone with it."

Hadrian bit his tongue to keep from snapping at her, and he felt a pang in the base of his belly. He sighed. "Fine." He turned back to the troll and pointed his wand at the horn jutting from the back of its left foot. "Wingardium Leviosa."

The troll was lifted into the air by its foot, and Hadrian lifted it as high as he could before letting go of the spell. The beast fell to the ground, its head slamming into the marble floor with a resounding crack. The floor around where it had dropped was fractured, but Hadrian could see a significant dent in the troll's skull as well. Its fingers were no longer twitching.

" Now it's dead," Hadrian said matter-of-factly. He turned to Hermione and was slightly surprised to see a look of something akin to horror on her face.

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

Hadrian watched her swallow, and he could see the horror fade into a steely resolve. She nodded. He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently.

A loud slam made both of them look up to see Professor McGonagall bursting into the bathroom, Snape and Quirrel close behind her. Quirrell took one look at the troll and gagged, turning to clutch at the wall. McGonagall looked from the two students to the troll and back again, her lips white with rage.

"What on earth were you thinking?" She said furiously as Snape bent over the troll. Hadrian bit his cheek and hoped desperately she wasn't about to take lots of points from Slytherin. His housemates would not be pleased he set them back in the competition for a muggleborn Gryffindor girl. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Granger, why aren't you in your dormitory? And Potter, why didn't you remain in the Great Hall with the rest of the Slytherins?

Hadrian grimaced as Professor Snape rose and gave Hadrian a piercing look. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he quickly broke eye contact with the man.

"Please, Professor McGonagall," came Hermione's quiet voice, "he was looking for me."

Professor McGonagall cocked an eyebrow. "Miss Granger?"

"I was… upset," she explained, her eyes downcast, "And I didn't want to go to the feast. I was hiding in here, and didn't know about the troll. Hadrian must have realized, because he came running in to help me. If it weren't for him, I'd be dead."

"And instead," Professor Snape drawled softly, "the troll is." Hadrian saw a muscle wriggle in Hermione's jaw, but she didn't say anything.

"Well… in that case…" Professor McGonagall pursed her lips. "Mr Potter, that was foolish of you. You should have come to a teacher." Hadrian shifted uncomfortably. "You were lucky, but still… not many first-years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You've won five points for Slytherin for your bravery. The irony is not lost on me, Mr Potter." She sighed. "You may both go."

"If I could, Minerva," Professor Snape interrupted, "I'd like a word with Mr Potter. He is in my house, after all." Professor McGonagall dipped her head and swept out of the room, taking a reluctant Hermione with her, Quirrell bringing up the rear.

"Mr Potter," Snape said quietly, when the two of them were alone, "That was the most foolish thing I've witnessed from one of my own Slytherins in years. One would almost begin to wonder if you were sorted wrong."

Hadrian felt his fingers twitch and he allowed himself a cold smile. "I don't think there's any danger of that, Professor."

Snape's sneer turned almost amused. "Somehow, I believe you." He waved his wand and the troll's body turned onto it's back, revealing the large wound in its skull. "You managed to not only incapacitate, but kill, a mountain troll. You managed to defeat my godson in a wizard's duel - don't deny it, you think I don't know what goes on in my own house? - and you're at the top of multiple classes, yet you've been living with muggles all your life. How is that?"

Hadrian's cold smile didn't falter. "I suppose I'm lucky, Professor. And a very fast learner."

"Mmhm," Snape replied, clearly not believing a word of it. "Tread lightly, Mr Potter. If anything like this were to happen again… well. Don't let it." And then he was gone, with nothing but a swish of his black cloak.