CHAPTER 20: Halloween (Prelude)

Hogwarts Grounds

October 17th, 1995

4:45 p.m.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Theo asked Harry, looking at him as if he had just been told he had received the wizarding equivalent to cancer.

"Ah, never better, Theodore," Harry grinned as the two of them walked towards the Quidditch pitch. Well, Theo was walking, power walking actually, trying to keep up with him almost skipping like a five-year-old. The two of them had been escorted to the exit of the castle by Professor Flitwick, who, in a moment of rebellion against Umbridge, decided to let them go on their own from there. Thankfully, the pink toad wouldn't be there during the practice, after all, why waste an afternoon with a group of ten people and leave the rest of the school unattended. "Ah, such a lovely day, isn't it?"

"Yeah, lovely," Theo said, looking at the turmoil surrounding them. "All this wind is making sure that the rain hits my eyes in a perfect angle. Just the perfect conditions to play."

"Exactly my thoughts!" He said, ignoring the sarcasm in his voice. "It's only once we're prepared for the worst of possibilities that we can shine in the best of scenarios."

"Okay, what is up with you?" Theo forcefully stopped Harry. "Yesterday, Daphne came to you all freaked about Montague, spouting off more death and suffering bullshit than Trelawney has during her whole tenure at Hogwarts, and warning you about Montague. Who, up until a few weeks ago, used to give you panic attacks whenever he was in the same room as you."

"I know," He said excitedly. "Isn't that brilliant?

Theo blinked. "…pardon?"

Harry laughed, a sound filled with joy, unlike any other laugh he'd had in his whole life. "I mean. Last night, I was almost losing my mind over this whole thing with Montague. I've known he's a monster for the past four years, so I wasn't surprised by what Daphne said, but still, it gets the paranoia running. I was convinced that the next time I saw him, I would be a mess like I was when he caught me and Hermione, but I didn't feel anything! Nothing! Nada!"

"So… you're not afraid of him anymore…?"

"Do you really think so little of me? I'd be a fool if I wasn't scared of Montague. But it's no longer… overpowering. When I confronted him the other day, I was running on pure adrenaline. The type you get when you almost die, you know?"

"Yeah…" Theo said quietly, but Harry was too focused on himself to pay attention to it.

"But today, when he came to us and told us about the practice session, I felt nothing!" He almost jumped as he said this. "He has no more power over me. Not anymore. And not ever."

"Montague won't like that."

"He can like shit for all I care," he turned around and continued on his path. "We're so close, Theo, after I'm done with him, no one will care about good old Graham."

Theo did not seem soothed by his cheery attitude, just the opposite, actually. But Harry ignored him. No one would bring him down, not anytime soon. For years, he had been tortured by the memory of Montague, a prisoner of the attack that changed everything, that branded him as nothing more than Montague's bitch. But now he was free, and he had no intentions of going back.

No, it was Montague's turn to be his bitch now. For him to be the one who fears rather than be feared. For him to be licking his boots, terrified at his mere voice, the outsider of his own house.

Harry's evil smile would've been concerning to anyone who saw it.

By the time they had arrived at the Quidditch pitch, changed into their practice uniform, and grabbed their brooms, the whole team was stretching in the centre of the field. The temperature had gotten much worse, rain was pouring harder than it had during the entire year, and the wind would make passing the ball much harder than anything he'd encountered before. But worst of all was the fog. On the ground it was fine, the usual for the Hogwarts weather, but the higher the sky went, the denser it was.

Oh, yes, this would definitely be a challenging practice.

"Get your arses here already," Montague called out to them, his tone cheerful and playful, the complete opposite of who Montague really was. "The sooner we get started, the sooner we finish!"

Harry set himself in between Theo and Malfoy, who, after losing to Theo, had been set as the reserve seeker. He couldn't help but smirk at the three main absences of the other two chasers and the reserve chaser he'd taken the spot from. Instead, Runcorn and Harper would be practising, since they were the reserve chasers for the team. The rest were all here - Crabbe, Fergus, and Montague.

After stretching, Montague ordered everyone to get used to this rough weather first. They practised their flying without any of the balls released, they tested how it affected their brooms, their visibility, their coordination.

"Here you go," Montague handed him his glasses, having confiscated them from him before he even knew what was happening. "Much better now, huh?"

It was, the impervius charm had cleared his vision a lot, and made it so he didn't have to wipe the water from them every couple seconds. How had he not thought of that?

"Thanks," Harry told him as he flew away towards the other side of the pitch.

It wasn't until they weren't crashing into each other every couple of minutes that Montague finally released the balls, with the exception of the snitch.

"Sorry, Theo, today you're just gonna have to practice flying without the snitch. We lose it and Umbridge might kill Quidditch before the first match."

Training as a whole was a hassle. A lot of the passes were diverted by the wind, the shots towards the goal were all very inconsistent. Even making plays was hard when you could barely see the other person flying beside you. But Montague kept pushing forward, forcing them to practice for three more hours.

"Come on, guys," he had said when almost everyone had asked him to call it a night. "The more prepared we are for the harder weather conditions, the better we'll play with a clear sky."

The echo of Harry's own sentiment earlier was not lost on the boy.

In the end, the team had managed to perform adequately for their weather, which, according to their captain, would definitely translate to near perfection once the skies were clear. Of course, no one bothered to mention that wouldn't happen until around March, if they were lucky.

"Alright, hit the showers and straight to the castle. Umbridge gave us until eight o'clock on the dot, anyone who doesn't meet that deadline is off the team, alright?"

The group mumbled their agreement, and Harry, who was too tired to actually do anything about Montague, did the same.

"Let's take a quick shower," he told Theo as the boy held on to his arm, having crashed harshly against Crabbe accidentally. "We need to start studying for our History of Magic midterm."

Theo groaned, something Harry took as a "yes."

"Potter!" Montague called out to him from behind.

Two weeks ago, the same word had caused the internal chaos that had completely shut him down. Now, he turned around, and grumpily asked, "what?"

"Come here, I need to speak with you about that sloppy Spealman Steal you did."

Immediately, Theo looked at him alert, and while Harry had instantly gotten over the exhaustion he felt moments ago, he didn't let it show.

"Don't worry, Nott, I don't think a bit of rain will hurt Potter much. He's suffered worse." The boy said, his innocent charm failing to mask the threat behind those words.

"Go," he told Theo after the boy had ignored Montague. "I'll see you in the lockers."

"Good friend you have there," Montague commented as Theo walked away. "Those are hard to find, specially in times like this. Then again, you can never really be sure."

"Cut the bullshit and tell me what you want."

"Straight to the point, I like a man like that." Montague sighed. "Look, I know we've both have our… problems, but I think it's time we start anew."

"Start… anew…" Harry didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or grit his teeth at the audacity.

"It's the best possible option. You've done what you wanted, you've set yourself as the new leader for your year-group. Pretty impressive given how you were a nobody less than two months ago. But you have to learn when to quit, kid, it's one of the many Slytherin lessons you have yet to learn. There's no better time for it."

"For you, you mean. I never took you for a quitter, Montague. But I could see how it would be embarrassing to lose against a fifth year. Specially one with my… background."

"This isn't me quitting. I'm giving you a chance to come out on top. Don't you remember the good days?" He hugged Harry, making sure to place his hand on the left side of his back.

AHHHHHHHH! His blood curling scream rang inside his head, immediately making him shake himself free from the older student's grasp.

"Oh, I remember," Harry said coldly. "You made sure of that."

"Then why not go back to them? We had such a great time! Together, the both of us could lead Slytherin in a new direction - in the right direction. And after the year ends, you'll take my place, and I'll make sure no sixth year moron like Rowle tries anything. I'll be your mentor again, teach you how to be a real Slytherin, one who knows how to win."

"Says the guy who's losing."

"Losing?" Montague laughed. Amicably. Patronizingly. "I'm merely going for diplomacy. A way to solve our conflict in a way where we both get what we want. Where we both come out with a relationship that can help everyone involved. Where the house wins as a whole. You know, how a Slytherin would."

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. "What I want… is to see you suffer. To see you on your knees, begging for your life, begging for peace, begging for mercy. And for me to decline. What I want is to be the one who rips you apart. Piece. By. Piece."

The words left his mouth before he had realised it, and once he did, a feeling of power - of release - flowed through him. He stared at the seventh year intently, and watched as the cheerful and friendly facade faded. How his eyebrows lowered, his smile diminished, the glint in his eyes was gone.

"Is that so?" His voice, cold, emotionless, not even holding a hint of any warmth to it. The voice that had haunted his nightmares ever since that fateful Halloween.

"There he is," Harry grinned. "The Graham Montague I know and love. Where have you been, old friend?"

But Montague didn't smile, didn't even flinch. His face stoic and icy, as if he had somehow turned off any emotion he might feel. And then, he clapped. Once. Twice. Three times. A slow clap that, even after managing to get over his irrational fear of the man, made him want to shiver uncomfortably.

"Well done. It seems you managed to learn a thing or two."

"What can I say, I'm a quick study."

"No." He wasn't even moving. Not blinking. Still as a statue without taking his eyes from him. "You're not. Even after all these years, you're the same imbecile that you have always been. The fact that you even managed to learn the biggest and most important thing I had to teach you is honestly astounding."

"It was hard to forget, specially when I have a daily reminder for it. You're gonna pay for that, I'm going to make sure of it."

"And what about you?" He tilted his head. "When will you pay for your sins? When will your family pay for what they took from me."

Harry sneered. "I've been meaning to thank my parents for that, but I haven't had the chance. But don't worry, when I visit their grave, I'll be sure to remember."

A glint of something flashed in Montague's eye and before Harry knew it, his hand went for his holster. His wand shot up in less than a second, he could feel the raw power from the wand as it coursed through his body like an electric shock. But just as Harry prodded Montague's neck with its tip, Harry felt a wand prodding painfully at his neck.

"Two things…" Montague noted idly. "It seems you are not a total failure, Potter."

"Don't flatter yourself, I had a better teacher."

Montague snorted. "Yeah? Who?"

"Me."

Harry continued to stare intently into Montague's eyes, his wand still forcefully prodded into the seventh-year's neck. He could see his same resolve reflected in those green eyes, so similar to his. He laughed bitterly, remembering how he used to see them, picture Montague as an older, better version of himself. Now… he had nothing but hatred for those eyes, so close to his but, ultimately, a pale imitation of them.

"Come on, Graham, put down your wand. We both know you don't like to do anything unless you're putting on a show." Harry looked around dramatically. "There's no one here."

Montague smiled. His other smiles had been jovial, cheerful, charismatic. This one was… unnerving. "Three things. But don't worry, next time, I'll make sure we're not alone. After all, so many people want to see Harry Potter on the ground, so close to death you wouldn't be able to tell if he was alive. Who am I to deprive anyone of such a beautiful scene."

The boy lowered his wand, but Harry didn't reciprocate. "It would be so easy… I could end you without you even having time to scream…" He hesitated, his grip was so hard, his wand was shaking. But then it stopped, and he sneered.

"But where would be the fun in that?"

Where would be the fun in that?

Those words haunted him as the next ten days passed at a gruelling pace. He had Montague, just a silent curse, and it would be over. Why hadn't he taken his shot?

The state of affairs inside Slytherin was quickly changing, the tides growing faster than he'd ever seen before in all his time at Hogwarts. While at first, people were staying out of the conflict and waiting for it to resolve itself. As it dragged out, more and more people started supporting Montague. Before Harry knew it, Montague has turned all the seventh and sixth-years against him, and pretty much everyone in his year but Harry, Pansy, and Theo stood behind him.

What had Montague done? What had he told them? Promised them? He'd seen the seventh-year, talking in the shadows to everyone who would listen to him. But at the time, he didn't think it was possible for Montague to manage to convince anyone to go against him. The whole school was still terrified of the mystery attackers, and the Slytherins were no different. He had banked everything on that fear that rose out of the attack, but when Rowle and Pucey came out of the infirmary and immediately stood with Montague, his reputation had taken a hit.

"Why not do what he's doing?" Theo suggested. "If Montague could convince them to go against you, you can definitely do the same."

"To whom? The fourth-years? Or maybe the third-years?" Harry sighed. "Doesn't matter. I don't need them anyway. I took all three of them down on my own, Montague won't be any different. Whether he's accompanied by one, three, or thirteen of them."

"You should at least try-"

"I said I'm fine, Nott!" Harry snapped at his friend.

Good friend you have there. Montague's words played inside his head for the fiftieth time since he'd said them. Those are hard to find, specially in times like this. Then again, you can never really be sure.

Logically, he knew it was Montague trying to manipulate him, turn him against his friends. But he knew where and just how hard to hit. He had been the one to instil that fear inside him, after all, he knew perfectly well how to push those buttons. The anxiety he had unleashed within him was eating him from the inside, tearing him apart almost a fortnight after he had planted the seed.

And right when he thought he was free from his influence.

He began looking closely at everything Theo did. From what he had for breakfast to the composition of every sentence he said when he was with him. It only got worse as time went on, to the point where he even began doubting this miracle change he'd had at the start of their fourth-year. Was this all just a long con, planned over a year ago, just to tear him back down? He didn't know, he couldn't be sure.

But his brain was leaning more towards yes.

And what begun with just Theo extended to Pansy pretty quickly as well. Why did she suddenly develop an interest in him? Where was she going to when she disappeared from the map? And why is she always carrying that Potions book around with her? All of her cryptic words, her desire for him to become a leader, her talk of fate.

Why hadn't he seen this before? He couldn't trust them. When would they betray him? Would it be right as Montague makes his move? Or maybe later, just to dig the knife even deeper into his back.

It didn't matter. His patience for Montague was wearing thin. With the small army he was building, the next time he saw even a glare from a single Slytherin, he would take no hostages. He wouldn't give Montague a third chance. He would make him scream, plead, beg for mercy. And he wouldn't stop, until he had felt the same type of pain he had inflicted upon him.

Room of Requirement

October 31st, 1995

7:50 p.m.

Halloween. When he was a kid, before Hogwarts, it used to be his favourite holiday. After weeks of secretly making a costume with any items inside the house that wouldn't be missed, he would cram it inside his school bag, ready for it to be used later that evening. He couldn't return to the Dursley's on Halloween, it had taken the Halloween right after his fifth birthday to realise they would only drown him with chores before forcing him to watch all those kids - those lucky morons who took everything they had for granted - as they grabbed the candy the Dursley's hid from him for the whole month.

So, he spent his afternoon outside, moving from park to park, trying to evade Dudley and his gang for as long as possible. He had always been mostly successful at that, those dimwits were predictable. It didn't take long for him to realise where the best places to settle down where and at what time. And even those few times they had changed pattern, he was still much faster than any of them combined.

Then the sun would set, and as kids started flowing through the streets, he would go into action. He was renowned all over the neighbourhood. The hooligan, the disturbed kid, the living embodiment of what would happen to your children if they went down the wrong path - if you weren't good parents. It didn't matter that almost none of them had even talked to him, much less seen him do anything illicit. It was common knowledge, everyone who was anyone knew about the kid with the broken glasses and over-sized clothes, the kid everyone was told to avoid.

It didn't matter that those… rumours were started by an overweight thug, a repulsive giraffe lady, and their retarded son. Everyone hated Harry Potter, and he never forgot the power of rumours.

So, he always wore a mask, he removed his recognizable glasses, and didn't even dare to speak as he went from house to house, gathering as much candy as he could. It was the only time any adult would smile at him, speak to him with kindness and excitement rather than cold indifference.

It was as if, for a day, he wasn't Harry Potter. He could be someone else, anyone else. Someone who didn't have his shitty life, who had people that loved him. Someone who was happy. And if he believed hard enough, he could convince himself he could be one day.

And then Halloween would end, and the fantasy would be ripped away from him until the following year.

But then Hogwarts happened, and that fateful Halloween night when he finally confronted Montague extinguished any love he had for the holiday. His nightmares were always worse on that night than any other, and he could feel all the hurt Montague had put upon his body with the same ardent pain as he had when he first received them. Halloween became as big a reminder of the day he died as the large M he was sentenced to carry around for the rest of his life.

Unfortunately, this Halloween wasn't any difference. His body still ached everywhere, but the worst of all was on his upper back. And with the rising animosity inside the house reaching its peak, a sense of paranoia filled him. As he walked down the halls, as he sat down on his seat, as anyone wearing the slightest tinge of green even glanced at him.

It didn't matter if it was Malfoy, Theo, or even Michael, he was uncomfortable around the presence of any Slytherin. He tried to avoid them as much as he could, but that proved a challenge as Theo and Pansy stuck to him like glue.

"Stop fretting around, Harry!" Pansy had finally snapped as they entered Greenhouse Three. "Honestly, you're worse than Greengrass nowadays."

That was a lie. Daphne had lost all her stability, her uniform now crumpled and her hair just the wrong amount of dishevelled. Her eyes were bloodshot as massive, purple bags filled the space under them. And she stood beside her sister at almost every moment outside the classroom, almost clinging onto her as if she were to spontaneously disappear. He was confident he hadn't reached Daphne levels, and far more so that he wasn't as sloppily at hiding his own unrest at Montague's ability to turn the house against him.

"I'm fine," he grumpily told them.

"You've got to end this now." She told him firmly. "At this point, next week, you'll have the whole house against you."

"I know what I'm doing."

"You should've ended this when you had the chance. Is your ego that big that you-"

"Why do you bloody care?" He asked her coldly.

"Because I've stuck with you, you gigantic dimwit!"

"And why is that?"

Pansy tried to say something, but nothing came out of her mind.

For the rest of his classes, Harry kept his hand as close to his holster as possible.

Thankfully, he got respite from the Slytherins that afternoon as he led his small group in the DA. Neville put everyone to practice the stunning charm as they finally neared the fifth-year content they needed to see. Most people still hadn't mastered the other jinxes and hexes, though the aim had greatly improved from missing almost every try to hitting a target every five attempts. Which was why, even though most of his group managed to master the spell relatively quickly, he still forced them to practice their aim until their arms were sore, and they were on the verge of crying.

"Please, Harry-"

"Quiet!" He interrupted Boot. "While I am your teacher, you will do as I say, understood?"

"Yes," the boy mumbled.

"Yes what?"

"Yes sir!"

"Damn right! Now hit something with that lame-arse aim of yours before I use you as the target for my own practice!"

By the end of the day, eight of the eleven students in his group had managed to successfully cast the stunning charm, with three of them managing to successfully hit the targets in a semi-consistent manner.

"Boot, Abbot, Macmillan, well done. Keep that up unless you want to end up like Fireboy over there," Harry motioned towards Finnegan, who had managed to blow himself up over three times during the past two hours. "Smith, Jones, Finch-Fletchley, Moon, Bones, nice job with the spell, you still have shit aim, though. Entwhistle, Hopkins, Goldstein, you're just plain shit. Don't come back unless you intend to improve."

The crowd dispersed, with some thanking him, clapping him on the arm with a smile, while others glared at him as if he was Snape reincarnate. Boot, different from the rest, gave him a solemn nod, his face glowing with pride - Harry returned it with grace. Hannah gave him a shy kiss on his cheek and thanked him, but he was too stunned to say anything back. It had been the first time a girl, any girl, had kissed him.

Before he could even recover from his unusual state of shock, Susan suddenly appeared out of thin air in front of him.

"I really need to talk to you about something, Harry," she said in a serious voice.

"Don't worry," he said reflectively. "I'm sure you'll improve your aim. What you do have to work on is your shield charm, you still don't do it consistently enough."

"No, it's not about that." She blinked. "And my shield charm isn't that bad!"

"You haven't been able to produce a shield charm in two days now," he said unapologetically. "And when you had in the past, it was the weakest of the group. Someone attacks you, and you won't be able to rely on your shield."

Susan pouted. "Well, fine, you can teach me how to do it better later. But right now, you need to worry about Montague."

Harry immediately stiffened. "Montague?" He whispered. The room was quickly becoming more vacant, and Hermione was already looking at the two of them suspiciously. "How do you know about him."

"I don't know anything about him," she quickly reassured him, making him realise he had unwittingly snapped at her. "But I heard him speaking with some of his other friends… the ones that just got out of the hospital. I heard them say your name and say something about how they would do it tonight, but apart from that, I couldn't hear much."

Harry stared through Susan. Tonight. Of course, tonight. They must've thought it ironic, funny even. To confront him the same night four years ago, an easy victory in a poetic night. He would've been impressed, if their arrogance hadn't blinded them. With Warrington still in recovery, and Pucey and Rowle still out for revenge, they would join Montague in the attack. Most likely hidden so that they could surprise him.

Predictable.

"Harry…" Susan continued after Harry's unresponsiveness. "This is about what happened two weeks ago, isn't it? They want payback for sending them to the infirmary."

"Don't worry about it."

"What are you guys talking about?" Hermione asked innocently… too innocently.

"Nothing. I was just leaving."

"Wait, Harry!"

But Harry didn't turn, his mind clouded by the hatred he had for Montague. He had delayed the inevitable. Maybe a part of himself did it on purpose. But Susan's warning had destroyed whatever had been holding him back. Perhaps it was fear, perhaps it was his self-preservation instincts, perhaps it was his pure, unadulterated abhorrence for Montague that didn't want to be done with him so quickly. But it didn't matter anymore.

He could see it clearly. Montague's body, hanging from the air, contorted in the most painful ways imaginable as every inch of his skin was viciously gashed. The boy, barely breathing as every Slytherin, every person who had ever hurt him, betrayed him, humiliated him, tossed him aside, left him to die, watched in barely concealed horror as the light drained out of Montague's eyes.

And Harry grinned.

That's it for this chapter. I really hope you liked it. I tried my best to get it out before the year ended, but alas, I was unable to do so.

This is a big Harry - Montague chapter, exploring both characters (as much as possible from a single POV), their motivation, and their relationship before the climax of this year.

Next chapter is finally the chapter a lot of you have been waiting for. The events of Halloween 1991, the genesis of Harry and Montague's rivalry, and what inevitably set Harry in this path we see him in present day.

I still don't know if I'll add both Halloweens in a single chapter, as was originally planned. Currently, I'm leaning more towards no, but stranger things have happened. If not, then chapter 22 will be the final climax of this mini arc before we go into the aftershocks of it in chapter 23.

I hope you all had happy end of the year holidays, thank you all for sticking with me this far.

EDIT: Alright, I'm writing this A/N a day after posting, but I'll copy-paste it to the next chapter just in case. Originally, this story was meant to be a short one, covering only fifth year and focusing exclusively on Harry and his character arc. It was never meant to go further than 100k words, but having passed the 80k mark with this chapter, it's obvious that's not the case anymore.

The story evolved into being two years instead of one, then into focusing on more characters and actual plot on the outside, then two years instead of just fifth year. It went on and on and on and now it's become this beheamoth that I never foresaw. Right now, the plan is to do the last 3 years (5th, 6th, and 7th) and maybe a long epilogue. Like... LONG. Which is why I'm making some changes to the fic, some of which you can start seeing right now.

First, it's the format. I'm going to add location and date tags to the beginning of every scene. Since 80k words have passed and October still hasn't ended, I thought it wise to add this since it would help me and the viewer grasp what is happening and when exactly. Second is the naming of titles. Since I thought this was going to be a short fic, I had decided to use one-word titles and a small quote at the beginning. I'm going to slowly change the names and removing the quotes altogether.

I'm going to take my time and do it slowly, but I should probably have all the chapters covered before I finish with both Halloween chapters.

I'm also going to add multiple POVs, though they will be used sparingly for now as the story still is mostly about Harry, but as time goes on and the world becomes bigger, there will be some POVs where Harry isn't the main focus of them. I will also do a lot more planning on the specifics that I never did before since, like I said, the plan was for this to be a short, focused fic without any worldbuilding. So I'm going to be doing class schedules, playing with canon concepts and making them my own, etc, etc.

Don't worry, Harry will still be the clear protagonist of this story and his journey is still relevant. But my muse has taken on a roll and I have a lot of ideas that I want to explore. So instead of writing it in another fic, I'll add it here since I think it would not only fit this world and story, but also enhance it.I hope you like these changes, I'm curious as to what you guys think of them.

Anyway, that's it for today. Once again, thank you for reading!