Thanks to all my reviewers for your encouraging and thoughtful comments, notably Sarapha, Victoria Grant and Asterix Tutnix. Thanks also to: so this is real life, blpaul and Duchene-fan. Keep those comments coming!

This is the first part of a multi-part eight chapter.

Oh, and a beta would be great. I keep coming across silly mistakes *after* I've posted, which just goes to show that no matter how vigilant you are, proofing your own work is not a piece of cake.

Chapter Eight: Halloween and Hogsmeade


Professor McGonagall had spoken truly when she said that at least one of the attacks on London were perpetrated through magic. As the days went by and the bodies of the dead were identified, student after student was pulled out of lessons in order to be sent to the office behind the gargoyle. As might have been expected, the Muggleborn and halfblood children bore the brunt of the atrocities, but even the purebloods were not exempt.

A pall of sorrow hung over the school that blunted activities both in and out of the classroom, and a waiting hush often pervaded the common rooms in the evening as the students cast frightened glances at each other, awaiting the next summons from Professor Dumbledore. Therefore, when Professor McGonagall clambered through Gryffindor's portrait hole before breakfast on the third morning after the news came, she was met by a concerted inhalation of fear.

Gideon Prewett rose from the sofa where he'd been deep in conversation with fellow sixth year, Matthew Spinnet, his brother Fabian, Gwen Weasley, and Algie Longbottom. His cheekbones were chiselled hard by firelight. "Who is it this time, Professor?" he asked grimly.

Minerva blinked. "I beg your pardon, Mr Prewett -" and then realisation dawned and she moved her hands in an involuntary expression of distress. "No. No. That's not why I'm here." She glanced around at her Gryffindors, and felt her throat become tight as she saw how slowly they relaxed. She tried to smile. "The opposite, in fact. Tomorrow night is Halloween, and the Headmaster has decided to have a party."

She was not certain whether the answering rustle was one of surprise, pleasure, or shock, and went on with her usual briskness. "Tomorrow night, students, we are going to be reviving one of the school's old traditions by having a Magical Masque." She stopped and looked over her glasses. "I expect all of you to be there, your most ingenious disguises in place-"

"Disguises?" several voices asked at once.

One corner of Minerva's mouth quivered. "Disguises. During Transfiguration today and tomorrow you will all be taught some simple self-transfiguration spells. Professors Slughorn and Flitwick may also do work with you on the relevant Potions and Charms. Please note, however, that none of these will be permanent!" She glared at a couple of third year girls who had become rather too giggly lately for her liking and nodded slightly as they blushed. "You may come as anything or anyone you like. Your disguises will work only until midnight-"

"Like Cinderella," Rosemary Brown murmured.

"-and then you will become yourselves once more." Minerva's lips quivered again. "Do remember that if any of you are tempted to - er - emulate any of your professors that we teachers are rather good at magic and I can assure you that any retribution we visit upon you for such actions will not be ... pleasant."

Everyone grinned. Fabian placed his hand on his heart and looked wounded. "Ah, Professor, you've just killed my idea stone dead-"

"That was the plan, Prewett," Minerva returned snippily. "So, you will come in appropriate disguises. The Headmaster is parleying with the house-elves to provide a feast such as has never been seen before at Hogwarts, and there will be dancing." Her voice rose in order to be heard above the excited murmur that was growing. "Naturally, I expect you all to be on your best behaviour and to ensure that we all - yes, all - enjoy our night." She nodded at them and left, smiling slightly as the sound of excited chatter followed her.

As the Headmaster and his Deputy had planned, the mood of the school lifted significantly over the next two days. Professors Sprout, Vector, Binns, and Kettleburn complained that never had their students been so inattentive, whilst their colleagues in Transfiguration, Potions and Charms said smugly that their classes were impeccably behaved. On the day of the Masque lessons finished at their usual time of four o'clock, but instead of going to the Great Hall for afternoon tea and then to their houses for prep, everyone fled straight back to their dormitories to get ready. As Lily Evans panted to Meta and Rosemary during their own mad dash for Gryffindor Tower, three hours wasn't any too much time to prepare, especially when you didn't know that much magic to begin with.

When Minerva entered the Great Hall shortly before seven, she could not help the gasp of admiration that caught in her throat. Flitwick had excelled himself, charming the medieval Great Hall to resemble the magical Galerie des Glaces at the Chateau de Versailles with all its light and gold and sparkle.

"What do you think, Minerva?" he squeaked, and she looked down with a smile.

"It's marvellous - absolutely transformed. The children will love it."

Flitwick smirked. "It goes beyond the obvious too, my dear. Everything in this room is charmed to exude joy and peace."

Minerva's eyebrows went up, and she was surprised into a small burst of laughter. "But how Slytherin of you, Filius! With one stroke you've managed to ensure that we have a pleasant and peaceful evening."

The small man's smirk widened and he gave a deep bow. "May I see you to your seat, my lady? Or," with a wicked glance upwards, "my goddess?"

Minerva felt her cheeks flush pink. "It was the easiest thing I could think of," she began defensively. "All it needed was a helmet and a book -"

Flitwick winked. "Never to mention some very fetching robes and a lovely hairstyle. Shall we?" and still pink, Minerva, garbed as her namesake, allowed him to lead her up to the High Table just in time to see the students start pouring in.

She stood, an unaccustomed smile on her face as she watched them. Then she spied the tall figure of the Headmaster towering above them as he tried to make his own way over to the table. He was dressed in vibrant red and pure white, a delighted look on his face as some students called out, "Good evening, Santa!". Several Ravenclaws rolled their eyes and yelled, "It's St Nicholas, you dunderheads!" and Professor Dumbledore rewarded them by waving his hand and causing sweets of all kinds to rain from the ceiling to general acclamation.

"I hope you enjoyed that," Minerva whispered tartly when he finally joined her.

He beamed. "Wonderful to see them so happy, is it not?" His smile widened as his eyes took in her very peremptory costume. "How - appropriate."

She scowled. "Don't you start. I've already been teased by Filius." Her eyes widened and she gripped his arm. "Albus, what is Kettleburn doing?" It was a hiss.

His eyes began to twinkle madly. "Er, it rather seems as if our dear colleague has been reading too many Muggle comics. Not that I blame him," he added as he watched his oddly-dressed Care of Magical Creatures teacher strut proudly through the startled - and, in some cases catcalling - students. "They really are most entertaining."

Minerva dug her nails into his arm. "But Albus, the man is half-naked!"

"Not really," he responded placidly. "I do believe it's just a glamour."

"That - is - not - the - point!" she grated through her teeth. "There are teenage girls here!" Her eyes narrowed to slits as Kettleburn, who was apparently dressed in very little more than a strategically wrapped piece of fabric, came up to them, looking insufferably smug.

"Ah, Romulus," Dumbledore said equably. "Tarzan, no?"

The other man grinned, showing all his teeth. "Or Mowgli. Tick your pick. Jungle Man, anyhow. What's the matter, Minerva? Don't I make a splendid figure of a man?" He struck a pose. A number of girls whooped hysterically and the Headmaster's eyes twinkled more than ever.

Minerva sniffed. "Such nonsense. At least the rest of the staff had more sense," she added acerbically as their other colleagues sat down, all more or less dressed in keeping with their positions. "Even the students had more sense!"

Kettleburn looked annoyed. "It's all in fun. No need to be such a prude," and he sat down in a huff.

Minerva opened her mouth to respond when Dumbledore caught her eye and shook his head very gently. Taking the hint, she subsided and turned her attention to the students.

"I do like Miss McGonagall's effort," her employer said cheerfully at that point, causing her to seek a Meta-sized figure in the crowds thronging about the tables that lined the room around. This broke up the usual house formation and left floor-space for dancing later, but it did make it difficult to spot people. It took a moment for her to see through the spells that turned her young sister and her two dormitory mates into three crones complete with straggly grey hair, hooked noses, and oversized warts, and she nodded approvingly.

"That's not bad work at all," she said, trying not to sound too proud.

"She's not a bad student," piped up Filius just as Dumbledore flicked his wand and mountains of food appeared. "Not as brilliant as you were, perhaps," with a bow to Minerva, "but more than competent."

"Who are they supposed to be anyway?" Pomona Sprout asked, peering at the three over her plate of bangers and mash.

The years rolled away suddenly as Minerva grinned like a schoolgirl. "Probably they're the 'Three Witches' from Macbeth. My father always loved the play, even though Muggles foolishly believe it to be unlucky, and Meleta was brought up with it. It's a good choice for the other two," she added thoughtfully, "for both Miss Evans and Miss Brown are also very likely to know it."

"I see Muggle literature has provided the inspiration for another set of your Gryffindors," Flitwick squeaked. "See, there's Potter and Black and, oh dear me, is that Pettigrew? They're looking very dashing as the Three Musketeers."

"I'd have thought they'd have used Mr Lupin to make up their third," put in Professor Sprout. "I hate to speak ill of my students, but Pettigrew is - well, he's such a colourless child."

"Mr Lupin is unfortunately ill in the hospital wing," Minerva returned smoothly, carefully not looking at Dumbledore. "He will not be with us tonight."

"Poor child. He really seems rather delicate, doesn't he? This is the third time he's been there in as many months. Perhaps I should have a word with Poppy about some new plants Hagrid bought me last week. They're supposed to have strengthening properties and -"

Minerva let the soft sound of her colleague's voice wash over her as she turned her attention back to the students. Once Pomona started about plants she could be left to entertain herself quite happily for some moments with little input from anyone else. She stiffened suddenly and put her hand on the Headmaster's arm.

"What's that?"

He glanced at her and then into the happy throng below. Someone in black - or was it several someones? - moved through the crowds, placing a hand on one student and then another.

"It is Halloween, after all," Dumbledore said thoughtfully as his eyes followed the wraith-seeming movements. "Perhaps someone has decided to come as that hoary favourite, the Grim Reaper."

"Several someones and they're being tactless to the point of cruelty if so," his Deputy snapped back. "It's only three days since the attacks on London and -"

"Peace, Minerva," soothed the old man. "I hear you. I will watch them, but at the moment it seems nothing more than another disguise. The students have been so jumpy lately that I believe we may trust them to alert us if something is amiss."

"And by then it may be too late!"

"Albus, there's some suspicious charm work going on there," Filus put in from the Headmaster's left. "We can focus through most of the glamours and spells used tonight, but those...."

"Leave it, Filius," Dumbledore said, his tone firm. "I am watching. The children are unharmed and the school is more tightly warded than ever. I do not believe anything evil could get through them."

"And what about the evil already inside the school?" Minerva murmured, so quietly that even Albus gave no sign of hearing her.