October 1991, 1st year
On Samhain – or rather Halloween, as the headmaster insisted they call it – the Slytherins ascended the steps from the dungeons to the smell of baking pumpkin coming from the kitchens. There was a group of Hufflepuffs huddled in a corridor where it was the strongest, looking like it was the best thing they had ever smelled.
Lynea didn't quite like pumpkins all that much and therefore strongly disagreed. But saying that the scent of libraries and flowerbeds after rainfall was the best smell in the world, wouldn't exactly be different in any way – and she knew that her grand-aunt had modelled her parfum after a quite similar scent, which didn't make it any better. Naenia loved libraries and graveyards and all things dead and her parfum smelled exactly like that – minus the rotting corpses.
"Stupid Muggle lovers," Draco muttered under his breath when they saw the Halloween decorations in the Great Hall.
There were candles and carved-out pumpkins floating over the tables and small, colourful trinkets peeking out between the dishes on the tables. It would probably be even worse during the Feast later that day with the dishes themselves being decorated accordingly and even more pumpkins and maybe fake-ghosts and the like.
"Do we have permission to go outside after the Feast?" Lynea asked one of the older Slytherins at their table.
The girl swallowed her food and nodded. "The headmaster doesn't like it, but too many families would complain if he forbade it. It's not our fault we have to attend the Halloween Feast before we can start the proper celebrations of Samhain." She smirked. "You little firsties will have to stay with us older students, though. No wandering off on your own."
Lynea nodded and thanked her for the answer, then turned back to her classmates. "So that's something, at least."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "If the old man decides to make this day completely about Halloween, then he will definitely hear from my father."
"There's no need for such drastic measures," Blaise interjected, "not yet, at least."
The owls chose that very moment to arrive with the post and a barn owl swooped down to deliver a piece of parchment to Lynea, who gave the bird a snack and then read through the short note.
"Your grandfather would like to talk to you. N." Draco read aloud. "Couldn't your grandfather have written a letter of his own, then?"
"You are aware that this is a private letter, yes?" Lynea said slightly irritated.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Do you have any secrets you wish to keep from us?"
"Not really, but it's the principle of the thing. Or do you wish to share your letters from home with the rest of us?"
Draco closed his mouth and frowned.
"Did little Draco get reprimanded?" Blaise asked from across the table, grinning. "Poor, nosy you."
"Boys," Daphne muttered, "always so childish."
Draco huffed. "I do not wish to hear those words from someone who pouts whenever her favourite desert isn't served at dinner."
Lynea shook her head at their banter and put the note away. If Naenia said her grandfather wanted to speak with her, on Samhain of all days, then she probably did not mean Sullivan Fawley, who was very much alive and could just as well send her a letter of his own.
In any case, the Feast turned out to be just as expected – worse than breakfast. There were hundreds of bats fluttering above their heads (Lynea heard several Hufflepuffs expressing their concerns about the well-being of those bats) and instead of the usual plates there were now golden ones lining the tables. The food was, as predicted, shaped and decorated with pumpkins and colourful candies and ghosts and bats. It was rather ridiculous.
They had to pass the Gryffindor table on their way to the Slytherin one and Lynea suddenly stopped short.
"Hello, Hermione," she said to the Ravenclaw. "Fancy seeing you here."
Hermione gave her a wide smile. "Hello to you, too, Lynea, Harry." She nodded to the boy standing next to Lynea and then turned to Neville, who was sitting beside her. "I thought Neville looked rather lonely all by himself and decided to keep him company on this happy day."
Neville gave them a small wave, but said nothing.
"Out of the way, snakes," someone said from behind them.
The Weasley and his two friends glared at them.
Lynea raised an eyebrow and gestured to the table. "There's plenty of room for you to sit down."
The three Gryffindors narrowed their eyes, but went past them anyway.
"What are you doing here?" Weasley said when he noticed Hermione.
"Well," Hermione said brightly, "I'm sorry to shatter your narrow little worldview, but despite being a nightmare I actually do have friends that can stand me."
Weasley flushed a deep red, but didn't say anything else.
Lynea and Harry turned to Hermione with raised eyebrows.
"Ron was being mean to Hermione in Charms today," Neville said quietly. "But she was only trying to help him with the spell."
So she was sitting on the Gryffindor table out of spite. Lynea smiled. Harry snorted and Weasley flushed even deeper, but kept his mouth shut.
"We'll leave you to it, then. Will you join us for the celebrations later, Neville?"
Neville nodded and the two Slytherins left with a small wave.
They had just reached their own house table, where Draco was already waiting to question them about what had just transpired, when their Defence Against the Dark Arts professor rushed into the hall, terror written all over his face.
"Troll," he said breathlessly, "in the dungeons." He wheezed. "Thought you ought to know." And then he fainted.
The Great Hall erupted into chaos. But then Dumbledore threw a few explosion spells into the air and everything went silent.
"Prefects," he said loudly, "lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!"
"Did he say dungeons?" Pansy asked shrilly. "I heard that right, didn't I? 'Troll in the dungeons.' Our dormitories are in the dungeons."
"Stay calm, everyone!" Gemma Farley said loudly, already standing by the end of the table, flanked by the other five prefects. "Professor Snape has already gone ahead to look into this matter. We can all trust him to make sure we're safe."
"Unlike our Headmaster," Travers muttered under his breath.
One of the other prefects shushed him with a glance to the teachers' table, but they were all thinking the same thing.
"Typical," Pansy murmured, when they had left the Great Hall. "Just shows how much he thinks about us, the old hypocrite."
"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked.
"Someone must have let it in," Theodore said. "Trolls aren't known for their intelligence."
"And they usually stay in the Forbidden Forest," Lynea added.
"Maybe the groundskeeper let it in," Blaise huffed. "Wouldn't put it past him."
"Hagrid would never do that," Harry said offended.
They cautiously made their way through the dungeons to their common room, the older students flanking the younger ones to all sides, wands raised, eyes searching every corner. But throughout all of their journey they never so much as even heard anything move in the corridors, nor did they smell anything – and the stench of a troll was supposedly a rather strong one.
Once they had entered the common room, there was a great sigh of relief as everyone scattered about, looking for a place to sit. There was a low murmuring as the students quietly discussed the troll's appearance and waited for their Head of House to appear.
It didn't take long for something to happen, because someone had apparently arranged for the food to be brought from the Great Hall to the common room. While they were all looking for something they wanted to eat, Professor Snape entered the common room. His presence brought an instant silence with it.
"Students," he said in a clear voice, "rest assured that the troll has been dealt with. By the time Professor Quirrel had made it to the Great Hall, the troll had already found its way to the Ground Floor, so there was no real danger for you. Still, I am proud of how well you all handled this."
"Sir?" one of the older students raised his hand and Snape nodded for him to continue. "Do you know how the troll came to be in the castle in the first place?"
Snape curled his lips. "I have my suspicions, but the matter is still under investigation. Any other questions?"
Lynea raised her hand. "Are we still allowed to go outside for the Samhain celebrations, now that the troll has been dealt with?"
"Unfortunately, Miss Fawley," Snape said, his tone dangerously close to becoming scornful, "Headmaster Dumbledore has taken this opportunity to express his great concern for the students' safety and decreed that today's celebrations must be contained to the common rooms."
No one said a word, but Lynea could see a lot of outraged faces at this revelation.
"I give you my permission to conduct all rituals in the common room," Professor Snape continued, "as long as you take the appropriate precautions so nothing is set on fire. The curfew will be suspended for the evening." He looked at the prefects. "I expect you all to behave responsibly. That will be all for tonight."
Their Head of House nodded curtly and then left the room.
"I bet it was Dumbledore who let the troll in," Pansy sneered. "He has been looking for an excuse to stop us from observing the old traditions for years."
"Calm, Pansy," Draco said. "As much as I agree with you, we cannot let this sour our mood for the evening. We have a sabbat to celebrate."
"Alright, everyone," Gemma Farley called. "We might not be able to observe all the traditions the way we would have liked to, but we can at least each grab a candle and honour our ancestors."
"And try not to burn the common room down," someone joked. "After all, we promised Professor Snape not to."
"Honour our ancestors?" Harry echoed.
Lynea handed him a candle. "Samhain is when the veil between the living and the dead is thinnest. The most common tradition among witches and wizards is to perform a candle ceremony to honour our ancestors. It's usually done outside underneath the stars, where we walk together and one by one extinguish our candles to symbolize the descend into darkness as one cycle of birth and regrowth ends and another one begins."
"Samhain is for endings," Theodore said, joining them "and Yule is for beginnings."
Harry looked at his candle, a somber look on his face.
"Harry, are you alright?" Lynea asked.
Harry sighed. "My parents died on Halloween," he said quietly.
Lynea and Theodore exchanged a silent look and both put a hand on Harry's shoulders.
"Then you have all the more reason to join the ceremony."
Most of the furniture had been cleared away by now with one small, round table left in the middle of the room, on which someone had placed a single black candle. The Slytherins all gathered around it.
There was a pause. And then, one by one, people turned their gaze towards Lynea. Travers, who Lynea hadn't even noticed standing next to her, bend down to whisper into her ear.
"You might be a proud Fawley," he said, "but the Lémure blood still runs through your veins. It is the Feast of the Dead, so it only stands to reason that a Lémure should officiate tonight." He drew back and slightly raised his voice. "We shall be honoured to follow your lead."
Lynea nodded solemnly and then stepped forward. Someone extinguished all the lights and the fireplaces and the room was cast into darkness.
"On this night of all nights," Lynea said reverently, "when the veil between the worlds is thinnest, we call out to those who have gone before us. Tonight, we honour our ancestors. Spirits of our ancestors, we call upon you and invite you to sit and be with us tonight. We know that you watch over us always, protect us and guide us, and tonight we thank you. We invite you to join us, beloved ancestors, so we may honour your memory."
Lynea swept her hand over the barely visible candle and a small, orange flame sprung to live. She smiled. Lighting and extinguishing candles without a wand or incantation was one of the first things her grand-aunt had taught her.
"We welcome our departed loved ones into this home and honour your presence amongst us," she said and lit her own candle with the flame of the black one on the table, before taking a few steps back into the circle of students.
One by one the other Slytherins stepped forward and soon the glow of numerous candles illuminated the room. When the last person re-joined the circle, they simultaneously closed their eyes and thought about their lost ones.
"A fine spectacle," a voice said as someone came to stand beside Lynea. "Although I would have liked to see it under the endless night sky, where we may roam freely."
Lynea opened her eyes and looked at the man next to her. He was tall and proud, clad in a long, black robe that contrasted his stark white hair and his dead eyes. His gaze was fixed on the black candle in the middle of the room, while dark figures loomed all around them.
"Tonight is not the night we shall talk in depth, it seems. We will meet another time." The man smiled. "A fine young lady you turned out to be, neptis mea."
Lynea's candle went out. She blinked and the room came into focus, the man nowhere to be seen. Next to her, Harry let out a shaky breath as his own candle lost its light. The room grew steadily darker as more and more candles went out. Harry grabbed Lynea's hand and she let him, waiting patiently until the room was cast into darkness once more.
They waited for a silent minute or so, until someone switched on the lights again and then broke the circle. The fireplaces roared into life on their own.
Lynea gentle tugged Harry with her to one of the couches, where they settled down to wait for the other first-years to join them.
"I would have loved to talk to my grandfather," Draco said quietly, sitting down on one of the armchairs.
"You didn't meet anyone either, then?" Blaise asked in an equally quiet voice and Draco shook his head.
Neither Pansy, nor Daphne, Tracy or Millicent had met one of their ancestors. Vincent and Gregory just sat there with glazed eyes and didn't say anything.
"I think I just met my grandfather," Lynea said, slightly astonished, "my biological one, I mean."
Grand-aunt Naenia had told her that her grandfather wished to speak with her. So that was what that note had meant.
"I miss my mum," Theodore whispered and Lynea wrapped an arm around him. Draco stood up to come over and join in.
"Harry?"
"I think," Harry said and a tear rolled down his cheek, "I think that my mum loves me very much."