A/N: Thank you all for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! Huge thanks to lanamarymack and Angela 007 for alpha/beta reading this chapter! My initial outline had this story at 39 chapters, but based on how wordy I've been, I think it might end up being a little bit longer than that. We will see when we get there. We are beginning to move into phase two of the story. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.
Please let me know what you thought of chapter eighteen and be on the lookout for chapter nineteen soon!
October 31st
Samhain was traditionally held at the Nott family homestead, nestled away somewhere in the Yorkshire Dales. It was the first time that Hermione was being invited to actually floo into the ancestral home of a pureblood family. Apparently, Alfie's father lived a life that was decidedly separate from his son and heir.
Checking over her appearance in the mirror, Hermione was pleased with the simple black robes she had chosen. The dress was clingy, revealing a pleasing shape, but still covered her up completely to protect against the cold. Satisfied, she grabbed some Floo powder before calling out her destination and walking through the fireplace.
The Nott's ancestral home was not much to look at. Dark and dusty, it looked like it had not been very well-maintained. It was clear that the home had not seen a witch's touch in many years. However, it was all the more clear to Hermione how someone like Alfie could have been brought up here. The house seemed to reflect the macabre nature that the wizard had. And, while Hermione generally didn't subscribe to the pearl-clutching around so-called dark magic, she could certainly sense the darkness in this house.
Thankfully, she was not alone for long in the oppressive foyer. Tom came walking out of the Floo next, making it look effortless, not a speck of soot deigning to attach itself to his person. She was glad to see him and approached him quickly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. She was pleased to see that he wore the tie pin that she'd gifted him on his own black robes.
"Thank goodness you're here," she said, whispering so as not to disturb the stillness of the house. "I wasn't sure where to go."
"Samhain will be spent outdoors," he said, offering her his arm. "But the clearing can be hard to find. Come, I'll show you the way."
Happy to have her guide, Hermione knew it would have been difficult to find, even if it wasn't sunset. As the sun went down and the temperature dropped, a thick fog settled into the hollow where the house sat. "Alfie has certainly set quite a bit of atmosphere," she murmured softly, as they started their way through the forest. "Did he really do all this by himself?"
In the trees were dozens of hanging jack-o-lanterns, lit from the inside by a magical fire. But, they weren't the friendly pumpkins Hermione remembered from her youth, before she left her parents behind. They were sinister looking, with jagged teeth and fire in their eyes, carved from pale turnips and orange pumpkins alike.
"I would say yes," Tom said, with a shrug. "Alfie has always been partial to a knife."
Hermione laughed despite herself. That did sound rather like the wizard. She could just imagine him in his decrepit old house carving each and every one of these.
"Well, I am glad to have you. This is all rather spooky," she said, looking over her shoulder when she heard a branch snap. Feeling jumpy, she walked a little closer to Tom.
Just as she had almost convinced herself that she was overreacting, something darted out of the trees at her. Hermione screamed as she saw the tall, black figure with a jack-o-lantern head stalk towards her, grabbing her around the waist. Her heart was pounding out of her chest, but she reacted without thinking. She had her wand out in the blink of an eye, jinxing the creature far away from her.
Her blood was surging in her ears, but slowly the sounds of the forest filtered back in. And...laughter?
The creature sat up, pulling the pumpkin off of its neck to reveal a laughing Alfie Nott. "Merlin, Granger, where did you learn to duel?" he asked, standing up, obviously quite pleased with his prank. "I didn't even see you draw your wand."
"Alfie you thrice-damned son of a bogart!" she growled, pressing a hand to her chest to slow her heart. She turned to look at Tom, who was collected as always. "You're lucky that it was only a Flipendo!"
Tom snaked an arm around her waist and looked down at her curiously. "You were rather impressive, Hermione," he said, almost like he couldn't believe what he'd seen. "For someone without any formal training, you reacted like you've spent your whole life dueling."
"Maybe we should have her go up against Dolohov," Alfie suggested, before shaking his head. "No, I wouldn't do that to you. I like you too much."
"Funny way of showing it," Hermione snarked back at him, though she was pleased to hear that Alfie did like her. In their own way, she felt as if they had become friends, always grabbing time to talk about historical magic whenever they crossed paths.
"If I didn't like you, I certainly wouldn't have done it," he answered. "Come on, let's get going. We want to start the bonfire before the sun goes down completely, or we won't be able to see our hand in front of our face."
Alfie walked off in front of them and Hermione and Tom hung back a bit so that they could talk. "We all start the bonfire together," Tom explained. "Using fiendfyre. Do you know the curse?"
Hermione swallowed thickly, before nodding. Of course she knew the curse, but that didn't mean that she didn't think it was supremely stupid to attempt. Tricky to control, some said that the animal form the fire took even had minds of their own. "Yes," she said, softly.
"It's tricky to control, especially if you aren't experienced with it," Tom said, gently. "You don't have to attempt it if you don't want to."
"I can handle it," she insisted, even though her mind was spinning with doubt. She hated the idea that she couldn't do anything all these wizards could do. Did he think she couldn't handle it simply because she was muggleborn?
Tom rewarded her with a crooked sort of smile, obviously quite pleased with her. "I knew you had it in you," he said, pulling her towards the clearing.
"And all of you really have mastery over the spell? Even...Malfoy and...Avery?" she asked, surprised. Neither one seemed overly impressive.
"Yes, we've all had lots of practice," Tom explained. "There is one other thing. There will also be a goat sacrificed tonight. I just wanted to give you a warning this time after...the bees."
She made a face. "It wasn't necessarily the sacrifice that bothered me, it was the manner...if only you lot didn't seem so bloody excited about drowning bees," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Be a little more respectful of the animal. So, is it going to be like the bees?"
"No, it's much simpler, quicker," he explained, running a single finger across his neck.
Hermione frowned. "I mean, as long as you don't ask me to hold the poor thing," she said, deciding that she wasn't going to kick up such a fuss this time. She wanted the wizards to continue to invite her to these rituals, even if that meant she had to hold her nose now and again.
When they arrived into the clearing where the others were waiting, Hermione saw several huge piles of sticks that had been prepared for the occasion. It seemed as if they were the last to arrive.
"Finally, we can get started," Abraxas groused, staring her down. Clearly, he was trying to insinuate that she was the cause of the hold up, although she had arrived before Tom and before the time she was instructed to arrive by Alfie.
They circled around the massive bonfires and Hermione found herself between Tom and Antonin. Taking in a deep breath, she spun her wand in her hand, trying to distract herself from her anxieties about performing the fiendfyre curse. She knew that she had to keep a calm mind if she didn't want to lose control of the magic. Failure was not an option with this group of wizards.
Antonin seemed to sense her nerves and gave her a shark-like grin, bumping her with his shoulder. "Nervous Granger?" he asked. "Don't be. The best caster of this curse that I've seen was a mud- muggleborn."
She arched an eyebrow at him, hoping to look suitably annoyed. "I don't think that my blood status has anything to do with my ability to conjure fiendfyre," she argued. "In fact, I think that I've shown I have more magical power in my finger than some lauded purebloods."
He laughed, apparently unbothered by her rebuke. "Then you really have nothing to be worried about."
Finally, they were ready to begin and Hermione raised her wand when the rest of them did. She knew the wand movement, but she'd never tried it before. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she said the incantation in unison with the others.
White hot fire surged forward, igniting the bonfires, until they were being consumed by all manner of animals - dragons, snakes, and birds. Hermione was in awe of the raw power she could feel roiling off of the fire, its heat blistering. She tried to identify which animal was being pulled from her wand, but she couldn't follow it's path.
To her surprise, she wasn't overwhelmed or overcome by the strength of the spell. She was able to keep her magic on a tight leash, only letting go as much as she wanted and pulling back if it strayed too far. It was a dark, all-consuming spell, yes, but she leaned into its power and it only bolstered her further.
It could have been minutes or it could have been hours, but eventually the wizards ended their spells and Hermione did the same with the flick of her wand. One by one, the creatures screamed and died in the flames, leaving behind only non-magical flames and the crackling sound of the burning kindling. And then it was over.
"Is that it?" Hermione asked, perplexed.
"Yes," Dolohov said with a big grin. "And now we get drunk."
"You did well," Tom complimented her. "I should know better than to underestimate you, but your drive does impress me every time. Is there nothing you can't do?"
Tom was by her side, leading her towards the hastily arranged table. Alfie clearly did not put the same pride into decorating a feasting table that Claudia Lestrange did, but each spot had a mug of the cider that they had made weeks ago, tended to by Edmond.
She felt herself blush at his words and wanted to argue that there were certainly many things that she could not do. To distract herself, Hermione took a drink of the dry liquid, surprised at how tart it was. Would it have killed them to put in a bit more sugar? But, if the objective was to get drunk, it got the job done. Hermione had barely had half of her glass when she realized that she was already feeling that telltale warmth spread through her body, the soft haziness of alcohol at the edges of her mind. Then she realized that her glass was charmed to never empty.
"Well, isn't that a rotten trick," she said, hoping to find Alfie and give him a piece of her mind for the second time that day. But then she noticed him, leading a goat towards the bonfire with Orion, and changed her mind.
Instead, she decided to stay at her spot at the table and ignore whatever it was that was happening behind her. Tom was busy talking to Abraxas about something to do with the Wizengamot and Hermione found herself pulled into a conversation with Evan Rosier about his upcoming nuptials, due to take place once his bride Irene Bellchant graduated from Hogwarts the following summer. To Hermione's immense surprise, it seemed as though he was trying to invite her to his wedding, inquiring as to where he should send her correspondence.
"Well, shouldn't Tom decide who he will bring along?" Hermione asked, knowing that she had Tom hadn't really put a name to whatever infatuation they shared. And, they certainly hadn't spoken about it being anything more permanent. "What if he wants to bring someone else with? Would you still have me?"
Evan flushed and looked unsure of himself. He was torn somewhere between reassuring her that she and Tom would certainly be going together and to not offend her by implying that she wouldn't be invited without him.
Evan was ultimately saved by roast goat that was served not long after. Hermione ate a small portion, not particularly enjoying the gamey flavor or the overly dry texture from roasting it over the bonfire. Luckily, the cider was more than suited to wash it all down. Everyone was boisterous and noisy during the feast, but as the night progressed and the sky became a deeper black, everyone seemed to grow more somber.
Alfie began passing down odd shapes and it was only once Hermione got one herself that she realized it was an odd sort of half skeleton mask.
"What is this for?" she whispered to Tom, curious as to what she was meant to do with it.
He was already slipping his mask over his face, concealing most of his features. "It's for the next ritual, to protect you from Death," he whispered back, before helping her to secure her own mask. "If Death can't find you, he can't steal you away either."
"I'd rather only you did that," she teased back, amused with the practice. She wasn't entirely sure that she needed to worry about some imaginary figure coming to kill her, but she supposed it also didn't hurt.
They all stood up from the table and Hermione was struck by how eerie everyone looked, their features more shadow than detail, more or less made anonymous by the half-masks. Alfie conjured a shallow dish at the center of the table before throwing his wand in. One by one, everyone followed suit, even Tom.
Hermione's grip tightened on her own vinewood wand. She would feel naked if she didn't have it safely in her grasp.
"It's necessary to leave your wand at the feasting table," Tom explained, gently pressing his hand on her lower back. "A hold over from centuries past when the large quantity of alcohol drunk meant that duels were quick to break out. No one wants to give Death more than his fair share."
She swallowed, but did as she was told. She took Tom's hand in her wand hand, hoping for a little bit of reassurance. She tried not to look back at her wand on the top of the pile, concerned about what might happen.