Yessss, the Halloween chapter is finally here! Better late than never. I hope you all had a lovely Halloween!

I really want to apologise for what happened with last chapter. Basically, I posted it and it went up on *my* end, but on your end, apparently nothing came up. Apparently this was a site wide error as it happened with other fics as well, which is very frustrating. In the end, I just had to delete the chapter and reload it a few times for a few days before it would even show up. I'm really really sorry for the delay, but I thiiink the issue has been fixed now? I'm very sorry for the convenience and I hope it won't happen again! A massive thank you to the readers who brought this to my attention, otherwise I probably wouldn't have realised what was happening for at least a few more days.

My editor really worked her ass off in this one, ngl. It took a lot of last minute editing to wrangle a few of those tricky paragraphs. Thank you so much, JessariOfErebor.

Enjoy, and as always, thanks for coming along! Read on, my lovelies!

It was the twenty-eighth of October. The hour was late and the Slytherin common room was quiet.

A single candle standing upon a chess set was the only thing keeping the dark at bay, though even that very nearly did more harm than good. The flickering of its flames made the basilisk skeleton hanging from the ceiling seem to writhe.

By the unlit fireplace, a dozen or so handsome green leather chairs were huddled together in a tight circle. Every now and again, a distorted breeze would come howling out of the fireplace from aboveground. The effect was harrowing to all who were not used to it. To those who had had more time to grow accustomed to it, the wind sounded almost like music. Eerie, yes, but beautiful. Comforting.

The students gathered together were calm and still. They sat with straight backs and lofty expressions. At their feet was a cauldron of black iron.

One of the students, a fifth year girl named Vanessa Flint, addressed the group. Her tone was low and her words had an air of ritual to them.

"Every year, Slytherin House holds its own tribute to Samhain. A Trial to test the cunning and determination of the House of Salazar and Merlin. We come together and tell stories and prove our resourcefulness by recreating the stories we tell. Those who remain calm and don't lose control of themselves win. Those who break, who show weakness, are expelled from the Trial."

A boy a little older than her, Daniel Rosier, took up the recitation.

"The rules are as follows; One hundred galleons to the one who tells the scariest story tonight. Three hundred galleons to the one who makes it the longest through the Trial without showing signs of fear no matter what they see or hear. You are encouraged to be… creative, to get other participants to show fear. No apparitions of people's family members, nothing about… You-Know-Who. And if I hear that people are ganging up on the first-years, or picking on people who've bowed out or lost, they'll have me to deal with. Teamwork is encouraged, but no groups of more than five against one single student. Any rubbish like that and you're banned from ever taking part in the Trial again."

Everyone agreed. Slytherins were competitive by nature, but some games were more fun when the odds were relatively even.

The Rosier boy finished, "And remember, the Trial doesn't stop outside this room. It stops at sunrise on the first of November.

A younger one piped up, "What about during class?"

"Nothing inside the classrooms or when there's a teacher right there. And lastly… Everyone chips into the pot to make up the three hundred galleons or you don't take part. You can withdraw at any time."

The students ignored the invitation and started throwing money into the cauldron. One by one, they all paid their dues. The room felt charged with excitement. The younger ones snuck surreptitious glances at each other, trying to ascertain who would be weakest. Who would make the best targets. The elder ones deliberately avoided succumbing to the urge, cooly confident in their mettle.

"Oh, one more thing." Vanessa Flint said. "If a participant is near someone from another House, best to leave them alone. We don't want the others to catch on and go snitching."

Mary Abbott made a disbelieving noise. "Fat chance of that happening, no-one wants to come anywhere near us-"

THUMP!

As one, all the children jumped out of their skins.

Beyond the glass, a merwoman spread her webbed hands at them. She grinned her awful grin and swam away. The Slytherins hurled derision and nervous laughter at her in equal measure.

Cheeks flushed with excitement, Vanessa Flint said, "Looks like this is going to be an interesting Trial. Who's up first? Someone has to tell the story of the Bloody Baron."

A fourth year, Eric Thorpe, groaned. "I hate that one."

Rosier said with a note of finality, "It's tradition. The House Ghost's story always opens up the Trial."

Lucy Greenwood stood up. This was to be the second year's first Trial, but her hands were loose at her sides. A calculated display of control that showed her grit. The others reassessed their opinion of her very quickly.

"I'll do it." She said.

"By all means, Lucy. Let's see what you can do. But remember, no embellishments for the Baron's story. You have to tell it as it is."

Later, Hermione would be embarrassed to remember that she hadn't really noticed anything was wrong.

Certainly the Slytherin table seemed a little subdued. But they were always quiet. And if a few of them seemed tired or jumpy, that was no huge surprise either. Students could be a little on edge sometimes. It didn't have to mean anything.

What should have tipped her off was that the Slytherins didn't respond to any of the provocations that members of other Houses subjected them to. Andrew Harding, a Gryffindor third year who should have known better, charmed a jug of pumpkin juice to spill itself down a Slytherin second years back. That little act of cruelty cost Gryffindor thirty points and got him the scolding of his life from Hermione. But the Slytherin hadn't said a word. Not as it happened, and not afterwards. She just sat there with her hands folded on her lap, eyes staring dead ahead. She hadn't even flinched.

Others things like that happened as the day went on, and they all ended the same way. The usually hot-headed, protective Slytherins didn't fight, squabble, or involve themselves in any disputes. During her class, their attention was laconic at best.

It was as if they were saving their energy for something else. But Hermione didn't see it, and so she didn't understand until it was too late.

Hermione was nearly at the end of her patrol of the corridors when she heard a blood-curdling scream rising up from the dungeons.

She didn't even think. She drew her wand and sprinted down the stairs to the lower levels of the castle as fast as her legs could carry her.

The dungeons were labyrinthine, and very soon she became totally disorientated. After a few more turns she came to a halt. Where had the scream come from?

Whoever it was screamed again, closer, and Hermione ran on down another flight of steps, took a turn, and-

A young boy cowered. His hands were thrown up in front of his face as if to protect himself. Terrified, obviously, but he didn't appear to be injured. Thank Merlin.

Hermione tried to project strength. "Mr…. Nott, isn't it? What's the matter? Are you alright?"

The boy tried to speak but nothing came out. She frowned.

There was a slithering, creeping sound at the edge of her hearing, and the Nott boy moaned in fear. Hermione turned her head.

A monster came round the corner.

The first thing that struck her was its size. Hunched over as it was, it still stood six feet tall. Its eyes were grey and weeping. The fanged maw hung open, drooping down to its chest. The skin was slimy, oozing, and left a trail from where its shoulder dragged along the wall.

Even from so far away, she could hear it breathing.

"Stay behind me." She said, though it didn't sound quite right coming from her numbed lips.

Her wandhand rose up, the tip spat and crackled.

"Depulso."

The thing flew backwards through the air and hit the stone wall with a crack. It stirred; all limbs moving in opposite directions. The sight was horrifying, sickening.

"Immobulus."

It froze stock still. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. They were safe. For now.

What should she do? She didn't know the Slytherin dungeons as well as she should. She only really had much experience with the Potions classroom. Hermione agonised over the decision for a split second.

If she left Nott to go for help alone, and he was attacked… but if she left the monster and it broke free and went for the other students… Hermione tried to calm down. She needed help. There could be more of those things. The whole school could be in danger.

Not taking her eyes off the monster, she asked, "Which is closer, Professor Malfoy's office or the Common Room?"

The boy said nothing, and she risked a glance at him. Nott was looking at the monster, then at her, in absolute horror.

Hermione repeated the question firmly. Nott seemed to snap out of it a little bit. "Professor Malfoy, but Professor-"

"Go get him as quickly as you can."

The boy wavered for a moment, before leaving at a dead run.

She turned her attention back to the creature and for good measure, cast Incarcerous with a few circular movements of her wand. Black chains whipped around the creature, binding it tightly.

Wanting to get a good look at it, she lifted it up from off the ground in a slow, steady motion. Heart pounding, she took a step toward the monster. Then another. The immobulus still had it frozen solid, which surprised her. She would have expected some sort of movement by now in a creature clearly magical in origin. Many magical creatures had some sort of resistance to magic; especially ones as powerful and dangerous as… whatever this thing was.

When she was about five feet away, it dawned on her that the creature might be intelligent enough to play dead.

Her eyes narrowed and she held the word defodio in her mind. Her wand was at the ready in case it made any sudden moves.

Carefully, slowly, she drew closer, trying to work out what it was. She had honestly never seen anything like it. A demon? Surely not. No-one had studied demonology in any meaningful capacity in centuries. It simply wasn't possible that anyone could have summoned it. The answer must be much simpler. Could it be a foreign beast of some kind? It had to be. Grubbly-Plank would know.

She felt the immobulus break at last. The monster opened its mouth and a cacophony of voices came out, all screaming at her. Hermione cried out in horror and disgust and her wand crackled in warning-

A hand seized her wrist in a vicelike grip, she whipped her head around to see-

Lucius Malfoy stood, covered in a sheen of sweat. His pupils were blown with fear and he was breathing heavily. He wore only a white shirt and trousers, obviously hastily put on.

Her concentration broke and the creature hit the floor with a noise like a sack of potatoes being kicked down a flight of stairs.

Outraged and afraid, she tried to tug herself free of his grip but Lucius would not let go.

Desperately, he urged her, "Hermione, look! It is only the students!"

Not understanding, she looked back and saw-

The monster was gone. A pile of students was in its place. Fifth years and six years, by the looks of them.

Hermione could only stare. Lucius released her wandhand, which fell limp to her side.

She had attacked children. She knew she hadn't imagined what she had seen. She wasn't going mad. Could it have been a transfiguration of some kind? An illusion?

It didn't matter. She had hurt them, could have killed them-

Tears were forming in her eyes as she watched the groaning children untangle themselves and, wincing, stand upright.

In a guilt-thick voice, she asked no-one in particular, "What did I do?"

Lucius tried to soothe her. "It is alright, it is not your fault. I can explain. But first, you four, you're all in one piece? Good. Go to Madame Pomfrey. Nott, go with them."

Watching them leave, Hermione tried desperately to reassure herself that they were okay. She hadn't known what she was doing. She had been trying to protect Nott.

"Professor Granger, I'll escort you back to your rooms. Please, it is the least I can do."

As they strode through the dungeons, Hermione listened to his explanation. Barely. She walked in a haze.

More out of necessity than anything, she went to bed. She tossed and turned, mind caught in a never-ending cycle of what had happened and what could have been. She kept hearing the sound the students had made as she had flung them against the wall. The pain on their faces as they had pulled themselves to their feet. And worst of all… the lethal spell she had been so close to using.

Much, much later, she would fall asleep feeling no better than she had before.

Minerva was not angry, nor was she disappointed. She was livid.

She had called a meeting the following morning with all the senior staff to discuss what had occurred in the dungeons. She also summoned the students from the Infirmary the second Madame Pomfrey had released them.

And so the House Heads and the four Slytherins who had been behind the monstrosity in the corridor assembled in the Headmistress' office. The Heads were seated to the left and right of McGonagall, and the children stood in poses of deep contrition on the other side of the desk. Their bright-red faces would have been enough to make Hermione pity them in pretty much any other situation.

Hermione's hand went up, an old habit she couldn't quite break. "Can I just say- before we start- I'm really sorry for using magic on you. I should have known it was an illusion. I hope none of you are badly hurt."

The Slytherins mumbled something that sounded a bit like, 'We're okay, Professor'. It was hard to say. None of them could look her in the eye.

Vanessa Flint, who had spent the last several minutes trying to escape her uncle's disapproving stares, finally cracked and said with a sheepish grin: "To be fair, professor, it was an excellent illusion."

Lucius roughly cleared his throat, trying his best to not look alarmed- or proud. The student ducked her head down again, and wisely fell silent.

Oh, dear. Clever enough to pull off a masterclass illusion, but totally lacking in judgement. Minerva pulled in a sharp breath, and Hermione saw that if she didn't step in, things would escalate.

Hoping to distract the incensed Minerva from the foolish young Flint, Hermione said, "Anyway, Headmistress, I should have known that something like that could never cross the school boundary. If you want to remove me as Head of House, or get rid of me altogether, I'd understand."

Tiberius exclaimed, "Get rid of you-? Absurd!"

The Ravenclaw seemed all too ready to launch into one of his reeling speeches, but Minerva cut him off with a warning look and said, "Tiberius is right. You were acting in the defence of a student, Professor Granger. We'll say no more about it."

Thank god. She had barely slept a wink last night, and it wasn't just because of the adrenaline, or the sheer shame of it. More than that, she had been truly terrified that she would lose her position at Hogwarts.

Finally able to breathe, Hermione settled back in her chair and watched the rest of it unfold. The students explained the Trial to them as best as they could. The teachers listened with varying degrees of shock, horror, and fury.

When the students had finished, Minerva continued her interrogation with, "And when you saw Mr Nott was terrified out of his wits, why on earth did you not leave him be? If the rules of this game of yours is only to frighten each other the once, why did you not leave him in peace?"

The Flint girl answered, "It wasn't Nott we were after. It was Professor Granger, not that we knew who she was. No-one goes into the Slytherin dungeons at night except Slytherins. We thought she was undergoing the Trial, we were just trying to scare her to knock her out of the running."

One of the others stammered, "Professor Granger is, um, not much taller than a student." Hermione rankled at this and the student hastily went on, "It was dark, the illusion made it hard to see-."

"So you did it because you thought she was another student." Grubbly-Plank growled.

Minerva sighed deeply, and Hermione felt a powerful surge of respect for the Headmistress. If it had been her sitting in that chair, she would not have been handling this so well. "And when you did realise that a Professor was there, did it not occur to you to stop what you were doing and simply release the enchantment?"

The sixth year, Daniel, straightened his shoulders and spoke up. "The spells were complex. I knew that if we broke it too quickly we could all come back wrong. They wanted to revert but I held them back. I thought it would be safest to wait until we could do it without panicking, but then Professor Granger hit us with an immobulus and we couldn't move. It's my fault. I take full responsibility."

Wryly, Minerva said, "All martyrdom aside, Mr Rosier, you can hardly take responsibility for something that I know full well your classmates joined you in of their own free will. What I wanted to hear was an explanation."

Hermione knew what the students must be feeling. How many times had she stood where they were standing after getting caught in one of Harry's schemes? Generally, though, they had actually been for some sort of good reason.

"The four of you will wait outside unless we call you in. I'll be taking your wands."

The students were not happy about it, but Lucius gave them a sharp look and they relinquished their wands and left the room.

The second the door closed, Grubbly-Plank burst out, "Minerva, this must be stopped."

Lucius interjected, "Headmistress, please. The involvement of anyone outside Slytherin House is not done. The students involved will be punished, you have my word. Our House has very few traditions that haven't been prohibited. I implore you, don't take this from us."

Grubbly-Plank turned in her chair and leveled a fierce scowl at Lucius. "Has it ever occurred to you, Lucius, that there's a reason so many of your House 'traditions' end up getting banned?"

Lucius seemed hurt but ready to defend himself, but Minerva raised a hand and the two Heads of House fell silent, though Grubbly-Plank radiated resentment.

Minerva was silent, her eyes unfocused behind her steepled fingers.

She looked to the Head of Ravenclaw House, who had been very quiet during this whole thing, "Professor Flint?"

Hermione had been watching for it, so she didn't miss the surreptitious, pleading look that Lucius sent his friend. He was hoping for his support. Not that Hermione really thought he needed to ask, since one of the ringleaders was Flint's own niece. Not many people could be relied upon to fairly cast judgement on one of their own family, and she wasn't sure if Tiberius was one of them.

Sure enough, Flint said thoughtfully, "I am loathe to stifle creativity in students. Certainly this whole thing has turned out very badly, but if the tradition has been going along for hundreds of years without incident, it seems somewhat drastic to call it off now."

Grubbly-Plank scoffed aloud.

"And what about you, Professor Granger?" Minerva asked.

Hermione didn't hesitate. "It seems like a stupid and cruel thing for students to do to their classmates. Why wouldn't we put a stop to it?"

Lucius answered immediately, grey eyes fixed on her, "It tests courage and eloquence. Teamwork, skill and cunning, for that matter. All traits which we should honour and encourage in our students."

He was pleading for her approval, she realised. Why? Did he really think she could give it to him?

Hermione said, "There are other ways for students to prove those things. Ways that don't risk young children being traumatised."

Still speaking directly to her, Lucius asked, "Do students not go to the Shrieking Shack as a test of courage? This is not so very different." He turned to Minerva and said, "What happened was a mistake and I am very sorry for it. I am Head of Slytherin House. Let me discipline the students. There is no need for this to go any further."

Minerva fell into deep thought. Hermione wished she knew what she was thinking, but at times, Minerva could be as impenetrable as her predecessor.

"Your tradition will be allowed to continue, but on certain conditions. First and second years will not be involved. We will keep a record of those participating. And under no circumstances will high-level illusions be permitted. Any infringements of these rules will result in the immediate dissolution of the Trial. Have I made myself clear?"

Lucius said, "Thank you, Headmistress. If that will be all, may I escort the children to their Dorms?"

"Certainly you may, and you may tell them that the Trial is cancelled for today. I trust that you shall make the new rules clear?"

Lucius gave her a half bow and left.

To her mind, McGonagall had been quite lenient. Still, it wasn't Hermione's decision to make. They would have to see how the Trial would play out, with more rules and supervision, and see if it was worth continuing.

That could have been the end of it. But when Hermione thought about the illusion, the whole thing just didn't sit quite right with her.

Hermione excused herself and went after him. Lucius slowed and turned at the sound of her footsteps, and the students all went quiet.

"That illusion was some masterclass Charmwork." She told the students. It was the truth. Yes it had taken all four of them, but they'd pulled it off well enough that the illusion had stayed intact even when hit with magic. It had been real enough to fool her right up until the end.

The students looked at one another, obviously confused by this praise. Fidgeting, they mumbled a chorus of 'Thank you, Professor Granger'.

"And yet none of you have ever gotten perfect marks on any of your essays in my class. I'll expect better of you from now on."

The children didn't really know what to say to this. Lucius gave her an unsure, but grateful, smile. He made as if to leave and Hermione stopped him.

"Actually, Professor Malfoy, I was hoping to have a word with you. I'm sure the children can be trusted to pass on the message about the Trial being cancelled for today, can't they?"

Lucius hesitated, but the students all nodded. They seemed sincere enough. If nothing else, she doubted that they would risk another telling-off from McGonagall. Lucius gave them a nod, and they set off for the dungeons.

Hermione didn't want to stand there and talk with him in the middle of the corridor. She had something to ask him that she wanted to remain private.

"Come on." Hermione said. "Let's go somewhere we won't be overheard."

The Malfoy seemed very amused by this. He smiled again, and this time it seemed much stronger. "In this castle? Wherever will we go?"

After a brief discussion, they ended up going up to the battlements. They saw almost no-one on the way, and the second they stepped out into the open air it became clear why. It was very windy and overcast, and even the ghosts were avoiding it.

Hermione wasted no time. Crossing her arms, she asked, "Mr Rosier's really talented. But I haven't gotten a letter from him saying he wants to join my NEWT class. Is it because I'm a muggleborn?"

Lucius was perturbed at this direct question. He pursed his lips together before answering, "His parents are traditionalists. It is possible."

Hermione hated that. She hated that students who clearly could excel were being pressured away from the things they were good at by their families. "Maybe you should talk to him. You're his Head of House. He respects you. He'll listen to your advice."

Lucius' eyes fixed on her. "Do you think so?" There was nothing insecure or self-effacing about him. He said it as a challenge.

She had a sudden feeling that she should be treading more carefully. They had been friendly with one another recently, but she knew that Minerva's restrictions had wounded his pride very badly. He had been very respectful of her, had trusted her judgement more than once, but this wasn't the best time for her to tell him what to do. Hermione wasn't good at being diplomatic, though. She had to trust that he would understand that she was only trying to help.

"I do, actually. Not many Head of Houses could convince their students to give up their wands like that."

"And not many Head of Houses would care enough about a student from another House to go out of their way to nurture their abilities, even after what Mr Rosier has done."

Hermione and Lucius looked at one another. She hoped he thought her face was going red because of the wind.

She blurted out, "I think it's a stupid tradition and I don't think it will keep going much longer."

Lucius gave a startled laugh, letting the moment break. "Well, at least you are forthright. Will you come and stand next to me?"

She gave him a searching look. He simply turned his back to her and faced the school grounds. A gloved hand brushed the wall beside him absently, as if to say; here.

She came to stand beside him. She thought she saw him smile, just a little.

The castle sprawled out beneath them in all its glory. I should come up here more often, Hermione thought. It really was a beautiful school.

Students and the occasional professor could be seen going from building to building here and there, an owl or two fluttering from window to window, but overall it was a rather quiet morning.

Lucius drew her attention and pointed to a little window high up in the Gryffindor tower. "Do you see that, there?" Hermione had never really knowingly stood this close to him before. It was a strange feeling. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded. "When I was a boy, the Gryffindors used to throw themselves from that window every term."

Horrified, she exclaimed, "They didn't!"

"I assure you, they did. Their friends would be waiting down at the bottom for them, of course. No-one could cast Arresto Momentum like a Gryffindor, back in my day." His hand fell, and his eyes, soft with memory where they were usually distant and cold, turned to the Ravenclaw tower. "Every year, the Ravenclaws used to hold a quiz that lasted a full week. None of them slept. As I understand, the loser had to dress up as a pixie on the last day of term and whenever they were asked a question, they had to respond with, 'I don't know, because I'm a blithering idiot.'"

Despite herself, her lip twitched and she had to look down at her feet for a moment.

When she looked up again, he was looking fondly down at the grounds. Far beneath them, she could see a knot of students grouped together, heads bent down over their books. There was a particularly sharp gust of wind and someone lost a piece of parchment.

Acting quickly, Hermione snapped her wand out of her pocket to catch the escaped bit of homework and sent it spiralling back down to them. It was tricky magic at such a distance and took a lot of concentration, so she did not see the admiration on Lucius' face.

Just barely, she thought she could hear the students whooping at their good luck.

Putting her wand away, she asked, "What about the Hufflepuffs?"

"Eating contests, mostly, though the upper years had drinking contests too. The Infirmary was always full of Hufflepuffs with- ah, shall we say gastric upsets-?"

She made a sympathetic face, trying not to laugh. "Poor Hufflepuffs."

He disagreed. "No-one took part who did not want to. They were good times. All these traditions are gone, now. All except Slytherin's Trial."

His tone was whimsical but she said resolutely, "Perhaps it's for the best."

"And yet, they were all part of what made Hogwarts unique from other wizarding schools."

They stood like that for a little while, leaning against the stonework and looking down over the school together.

Eventually she asked him, "Did you take part in the Trial?"

Surprised she even had to ask, he smirked and said. "Of course."

"Were you good at it?"

He studied her for a moment. Perhaps trying to understand her motivations. "I won the one hundred galleons almost every year I was a student. The three hundred, never."

A very powerful image came to her. A young Lucius telling stories in the dead of night to a gaggle of horrified, impressed children. She imagined him waving his hands about, eyes lit up with excitement. She wondered if Bellatrix and Narcissa had been there. She supposed they must have been.

She shivered.

"You are cold." He said immediately, his brows drawn together in concern. "We must get you out of this wind."

"I'm fine, really." She said, not wanting to explain that it was the memory of his sister-in-law that had made her shudder.

He did not let it drop. "Will you at least allow me to Charm your robes?"

She could have said no. She wasn't cold in the first place, and even if she had been, she was certainly more than capable of performing such simple magic as that.

But instead, she found herself saying, "Okay."

It only took a second. It was an easy spell and he only had to say it beneath his breath. She felt the toasty warmth spread and, without meaning to, closed her eyes for a moment in bliss.

"It's a pity the Gryffindor tradition was gone before your time." He said abruptly. "I think you would have enjoyed it."

She laughed incredulously. It was amazing to hear herself do it, and even more incredible to imagine herself deliberately throwing herself from a great height just to prove her own courage.

"Me? God no." She tried hard not to let it affect her, but she had never liked heights. It was part of why she had never been good at flying.

She had expected that Lucius would protest, as social norms usually demanded in this sort of situation. Instead he gave an elegant shrug and said, "Perhaps not. You would have stayed at the bottom, I think, catching everyone else."

So... what'd you think? :D

This chapter, believe it or not, is YET another double chapter! Part two should be released within the next 5-7 days. I'll try to do it sooner if possible. I do prefer to update a bit closer together, when it comes to two part chapters.