Chapter Seven
The hinge of the year had crept up on Severus. The northernly wind blew with a chill through the open window of his chambers, refreshing against his skin and his scalp, carrying the smell of fallen leaves and the first frost of Winter. He had spent so much of his life cocooned in the womb of the castle, unchanging almost as the seasons passed and surrounded by the lambent reflections of the lake on the stone walls that he liked the evidence of his change in circumstances to be tangible.
Severus' practice of the faith had always been somewhat patchy. He tried certainly, in the years intervening his residence at Hogwarts it had helped him feel more connected to his magic and the turning of the wheel. Not having grown up with it as an integral part of his life, as his mother had hidden those parts of herself sharing only those traditions she refused to forsake, or thought muggle enough to pass notice. His father would never have accepted such devilry in his house, he had a somewhat piecemeal approach when it came to his own personal practice.
Put together from half remembered whispered stories from his very early childhood, readings and observations of his housemates' tales and half hidden minor rituals he had eventually settled into a routine that made sense to him and allowed him to express his faith and Samhain was the time of year that resonated most strongly with his magic. Of course that had been miserably disrupted the moment the Potter boy set foot in Hogwarts, a summer child if ever there was one, All Hallows Eve and the death of Mabon inevitably brought disaster when he was involved and Severus would be dragged along in it's wake.
Samhain. The night when the veil was at its thinnest, a time when *"the past is gone, the future is not come, and the present… at once exists and expires." On this night the Cailleach rides forth to strip the leaves from the trees of the forest and quicken the decay of the flesh of the year so that it might feed new life to come. He breathed deeply of the scent of frost and mulch carried on the breeze to his room.
It was a time for solemn contemplation, for the remembrance of lost loved ones and understanding of the cycle of death, birth and renewal, so as dawn rose and the sound of the birds awakening in the eaves carried on the wind surrounding Ravenclaw tower he meditated on the past year. He thought of all the ways he had grown, the small ways in which he was thankful. His observances for Samhain proper wouldn't begin until sundown but it helped him to find the proper mindset.
The day itself went as it usually did at Hogwarts, tensions and excitement running higher than usual as children of all different affinities went about their day. Severus had always found himself handing out more detentions than usual on the sabaats and Samhain more so than most as one of the most magically significant days of the year.
The other one being Beltane, a time of year for which he had always made absolutely certain to overstock the infirmary with contraceptives and prophylactics to prevent an epidemic of teen pregnancy and venereal disease every year. Many found themselves influenced by the change in energy of the Ley lines although the young were often ignorant as to the reason for their moods and therefore unable to moderate them.
For mercy's sake, while Samhain had brought crippling grief and in his latter years the latest Potter drama. At least it brought less exposure to underage genitalia and mortified teens.
The Sun had risen while he meditated, somewhat anaemic, but determined to melt the first frosts.
…
Pandora was he thought, affected as he was by the date though she possessed less affinity for the season in general. He suspected, as he had of her daughter that she was one of the Taibhsearan, those possessed of some form of second sight. She was more distractible than usual.
He was not talented in the divinatory arts himself, though he had a touch of magesight passed down from his Prince ancestry.
She was gazing around the great hall with a slightly glazed look on her face humming absentmindedly. He was slightly worried if he was honest. His worry for Pan was distracting him from his usual contempt for the Halloween feast, which admittedly he still felt quite strongly.
"It's so rad!" Meadows effused about the conjured bats and floating lanterns.
He held back a scoff, although it cost him quite some effort. Letting the conversation and exclamations flow around him. He quite liked Meadows, if he was honest with himself, she was bright eyed, inquisitive and bushy tailed like a squirrel. It wasn't her fault and she was the only muggle raised first year in Ravenclaw it's not like she knew any better.
Hogwart's approach to Samhain's first day of celebration he found quite genuinely offensive as did quite a number of the student population. Although the younger years were clearly enthralled by the sweet offerings, the older years were markedly less enthusiastic. It was predominantly those of Slytherin and Ravenclaw that were more openly showing their disdain, but there were practitioners in both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor that he could see as he took in the details of the hall.
A traditional meal would focus on fruits and vegetables, wild game meat if available, dark bread. Rye or pumpernickel if possible. Apple cider or wine even in thimble sized offerings for the youngest. Fried chicken, pizza squares, toffee apples, peppermints and frankly radioactive looking lemon drizzle cakes were an absolute disgrace.
Severus drummed his fingers on the oak of the table, weighing up the pros and cons. Openly practicing would allow him to make contacts in Slytherin who would otherwise be wary of him. Contacts he might , no probably would need in the future.
Welcoming Meadows to practice with them, and he honestly genuinely thought she would be enthralled by a new research avenue opened to her; would in fact be delighted at the opportunity to study wixen culture anthropologically which would give him a convenient defence against the accusations which would likely make their way in his direction, flung by those who wanted to conflagrate the issues of blood prejudice and the insidious suppression of freedom of religion prevalent in Wizarding Brittania.
He gazed quizically, scowling at the unfortunate bowl of toffee apples in front of him, his teeth aching psychosomatically until he heard a soft cough and looked up at Pan whose blue eyes were suddenly glinting as she gave him an almost imperceptible nod. He drew his conclusion and decided fuck it.
He started the call as he could see twilight settling on the enchanted ceiling, darkness falling upon them as more of the floating candles flared to life.
"Tonight is the first of three nights, on which we celebrate Samhain. It is the end of the harvest, the last days of summer, and the cold nights wait on the other side for us. The bounty of our labor, the abundance of the harvest, the success of the hunt, all lies before us. We thank the earth for all it has given us this season, and yet we look forward to winter, a time of sacred darkness."
He felt a shiver of approval running through him from the magic of Hogwarts. Prefect Selwyn caught his eye raising an eyebrow.
Pan joined in, in her lilting voice, approval twinkling in her eyes repeating the call. Then with a soft thump an empty setting appeared between them. Seems the house elves approved.
Hector was giving them a wryly soft smile his eyes kind of tight with anxiety while Vaisey's dark eyed glare bore into them while her lips twitched showed she approved while also being worried for them.
Meadows just looked confused, looking from one to the other.
"You need to be careful." Prefect Selwyn spoke giving them a considering look. "Don't draw attention to the fact that you're practicing, it's against unofficial school policy. Keep it reasonably low key and you should be fine."
Severus nodded curtly quietly agreeing with Selwyn while his eyes slid over to side eye the Gryffindor table to his left where Pettigrew was glittering red and gold and loudly honking like a goose. Selwyn followed his line of sight and snorted in an undignified fashion.
He thought it unlikely they would draw any attention next to that display.
Shaking his head. "You know what I mean." Severus did.
They settled into the meal. Taking turns explaining as they quietly put their offerings on the empty plate. A small rye loaf appeared and Severus broke the bread for his companions.
The feast ended with a rendition of the school song, which Severus did not and would not participate in for the sake of his dignity and bleeding eardrums.
Finally after what seemed like an unending period of time they were dismissed with an admonition to return to their dorms swiftly, not dally in the corridors and a cheery " Happy Halloween!"
…..
They stayed up, congregating in the common room with hot chocolate. The older years taking turns trading ghost stories and tales.
It was late by the time he managed to escape to his dorm. The fireplace had been lit by the elves so the room was pleasantly warm.
Severus himself had little to no affinity for divination as a subject himself but of all the possible uses for the subject scrying was the method that worked most consistently for wixen who lacked the sight themselves and Samhain was a fortuitous date for it.
He sketched a minor ritual circle and smoked some sage on the fire to cleanse the area. When that was ready he carefully laid out his notes, the profiles he had made of the possible students.
This might not work, it all depended on whether the Dark Lord had protected his name from this line of investigation. Severus thought he likely hadn't as after all anyone who knew even this much was likely either indisputably loyal or very dead.
The talisman swung wildly before cutting decisively to a boy with long eyelashes and a well cut jawline.
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Severus smiled.
Found you.
