A/N: My candle burns at both ends. It will not last the night. But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends— it gives a lovely light!
~~~~~~~~~~ October 31st 1986 ~~~~~~~~~~
"Pay attention, you dunderheads, this is important!" Severus Snape roared at his last class of the day, some incompetent fifth-year students who somehow still hadn't learned how to properly mix fluxweed with ashwinder eggs. "Stir two strokes clockwise, a half-stroke counter-clockwise, and then a quarter stroke forward at half speed! If any of you brats had done your reading, you might not be in danger of fumigating my dungeons!"
Reaching out with his wand, he vanished the dangerously unstable goo that several students had created. "This is your OWL year! You all need to do more than just read the textbook if you hope to pass! I don't have time to hold your hands every day! Just because it's Halloween doesn't mean you have the excuse to ignore your assignments!"
Snape paced back and forth at the front of the classroom handing out genuine advice and acerbic remarks in equal measure. The students were thoroughly cowed, and no one said a word, not even to ask a question, so afraid were they of incurring his wrath. Apparently news of his yearly Halloween snit had spread, and students were extra cautious not to draw attention to themselves.
His exceptionally taciturn class worked more diligently than ever before, and the class was soon at its conclusion. "Alright, bumbling idiots! Time's up! Bottle your brews, hand in your essays, and be gone!" With a collective sigh of relief, all the students bottled their brews and walked them up to the professor's desk.
Severus examined each bottle before placing it down to be graded later. "I see some of you have had more success than others," he remarked as he held up a bright pink mixture that looked to still have some ashwinder eggs floating at the top. "I expect you to be better prepared next class, Mr. Weasley. Your efforts in class today leave much to be desired, and your essay doesn't seem to be much better. Perhaps a few hours of detention would be more to your liking? I have many experimental potions in need of test subjects. Perhaps the best way to improve your writing would be to have you imbibe them and document their effects..."
"No, sir! Sorry, sir! I'll be better prepared, sir!" How… surprising… Mr. William Weasley was usually far more impetuous than this… Perhaps he had more wisdom than Severus previously thought and had decided not to further aggravate the potions master.
"Good! Now, off with you!" As the last students exited the room, Severus absentmindedly waved his wand to label and store the samples before turning to the empty corner at the back of the room.
"Are you ready to go? I'd like to get out of here before any other students show up with more inane questions. I'm not sure they'll make it out alive." Severus mumbled at the empty corner.
The corner shimmered. "I'm still not sure why Dumbledore insists on having you teach today unless he has a sadistic streak and secretly enjoys putting students through the occasional class from hell. It looked like even more of your class fell mysteriously ill this year than last Halloween."
Severus grumbled, "Maybe next year, all of them will fall 'mysteriously ill', and I'll have the whole day to drink myself into oblivion."
"Come now, Severus. Everyone knows that you can't enjoy a good drink before the sun goes down. Think of your classes as a way to spend the time. Now, let's go. A new bar opened in Knockturn Alley last month, and they serve this fascinating drink called the 'Flaming Fist of Fury.' I'm interested to see if they actually contain real fists or if they are just transfigured. You never know with these Knockturn Alley dives."
"Yes, yes… As long as it gets me drunk enough that I can't think, all is well, be it fists, feet, or fibulas. Now let's go!" Severus also disillusioned himself and followed his friend out the door for a night of forgetting about his lost love, Lily Evans. First lost when he spoke against her ancestry in anger, lost again when she married his Hogwarts rival, James Potter, and lost forever when his erstwhile master slew her in his paranoid quest to eliminate anyone who could one day overthrow him. Anything was better than thinking of how things could have been, especially today.
As they wandered the halls towards the statue of the one-eyed witch, Severus noted the joy of all the children they passed. Their lives were yet unscarred by the harsh realities of life, but it was only a matter of time. Life was cruel, and they would find that out soon enough.
Entering the room with the secret passage that would take them to freedom and a night of heavy drinking, the two men closed the door behind them and approached the statue to speak the password they learned as students. Severus scanned the room to be sure no one was present and, finding no trace of anything but cockroaches and spiders, spoke the password. The statue slowly swung out of the way.
Before they could make it, they both jumped and drew their wands as they felt their disillusionment charms slip away.
"Good evening, Severus."
Speaking through grinding teeth, Severus mustered his response, "Headmaster." How could he not have noticed him? The headmaster's magic was preposterously powerful, but to hide robes with that many colors so well that even Severus couldn't find them was beyond understanding!
"I see you're off for your yearly binge… I do wish you would find something more productive to do with your depression. Tenpin bowling is a truly great stress reliever, if I do say so myself."
Not in the mood for another speech, Severus pushed forward past the headmaster and toward the tunnel. Normally, he wouldn't show quite that level of disrespect to such a powerful wizard, but he wasn't much for social niceties this evening, and if Dumbledore got fed up with him, then at least he wouldn't have to keep teaching.
"Headmaster, you didn't convince him last year, and I doubt you will convince him this year. I myself have tried to convince him that riding my flying horses is a better distraction than this, but alas, I am also ignored."
"I fear we may be fighting for a lost cause, Mr. Malfoy. Regardless, please make sure he returns in the morning, would you? And you may find this helpful tonight." Dumbledore passed Lucius a wad of paper and a pair of mismatched socks.
"As I have every year, Headmaster. Now, we must be going." Lucius turned and followed his friend, closing the passageway behind him.
It had taken much persuading from Severus to convince Dumbledore and Lucius to cooperate for just this one day several years ago, but Severus was a consummate planner, and he eventually emerged with Dumbledore's agreement well in advance. It wasn't that hard, really. Lucius was quite an affable fellow when he wasn't talking about muggles, and Dumbledore could also be quite agreeable if he could manage to stop talking about those very same muggles. As long as they kept their conversations to Severus's mental health, they could even manage a civil conversation or two this one night each year.
Lucius caught up with Severus, and he examined the papers as they walked to the edge of the wards. "Looks like we get our refreshments in a private room tonight. Dumbledore seems to have figured out where we were going and reserved a room and wait-staff for us. He still left me to pay for the drinks, though. Cheapskate. At least these portkeys will help us get back to our respective rooms to sleep off the alcohol tonight."
"Lucius… If Dumbledore was for sale, you could buy him a hundred times over. I think you can manage to split drinks with me tonight without bankrupting yourself."
"I suppose you're right, old friend," Lucius said as they passed the wards. "Let's be off." Severus turned on the spot and vanished from the cave.
~~~~~~~~~~ 1987 ~~~~~~~~~~
Fred and George carefully snuck out of the Burrow towards their father's shed. As budding pranksters, they had discovered that their father's backyard shed housed many marvelous items he had brought home from his work at the ministry. In the interest of keeping their father's secret, they had neglected to tell their mother despite the fun it would be to watch her blow up. After all, the shed was more valuable to them intact and with a steady supply of newly enchanted muggle devices. They needed to learn all they could about their chosen art of pranking before they started at Hogwarts in two years' time.
As they approached the shed, they heard scuffling sounds from inside. With one sly glance at each other, they carefully creaked open the door and peeked inside. Their younger brother, Ron, was madly dashing about. The twins smirked at each other - he'd probably found the chess set. As best as they could figure, their father had designed it to automatically play any opponent, but the losing pieces ran away and hid while the winning pieces swarmed the player until the board was set up again. Currently, their brother was madly trying to collect white pieces while the black ones were biting at his ankles. Ah yes, Ronnykins had lost. Not that it mattered much - they'd won their first game, and their white pieces had tried high-fiving them for 30 minutes while they'd madly searched for the black ones. They still had some bruises to show for it. All it took was a glance at each other - they could have some fun with this. If Ron had lost to a poorly charmed chess set, they could cream him at said game.
"Ah, look, Gred! See what little brother has done?"
"Tsk tsk Ronnykins. You know you shouldn't be playing with Dad's things. Forge, what are we going to do?"
Ron turned around and glared at his brothers, but the effect was greatly reduced by the fact that he kept hopping about to keep his feet away from the chess pieces. "Are you two gits going to help or what?!"
"Whata'ya think Gred? Shall we help our dear little brother?"
"Oh, I think we should Forge! As long as he agrees to play a game of chess with us. Whoever loses has to tell Mum they volunteer to de-gnome the garden for a month!"
"But there are two of you and only one of me!" whined Ron as he fished out a rook from beneath a cabinet, only to have a knight climb out of a pocket and run for a deeply spider-webbed corner.
"Yes, there are. But you'll have two of us helping you…"
"...find all of Dad's chess pieces before he gets home."
With a pawn grimly hanging on for dear life on Ron's shoe as he tried to shake it off, Ron agreed to the twin's terms: "FINE! Just help me with these blasted things!"
~~~~~~~~~~ Y ~~~~~~~~~~
George and Fred stared glumly at the Burrow's huge yard. Despite the two of them, de-gnoming the expanse would easily burn up hours of their experimentation time. How had they lost their game of wizarding chess to Ronnykins? It was completely perplexing, but at least they could use the time to think up an appropriate retaliatory scheme. The mystery of how he had beat them could wait until they didn't have acres to de-gnome. For a month. The twins looked at each other, sighed, and began.
~~~~~~~~~~ 1988 ~~~~~~~~~~
Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. Neville stared at the bright blue wrapper in his hands. It was still slightly sticky from the crazyberry-flavoured candy, and some of it transferred to his hands as he carefully folded the wrapper and placed it in a drawer next to his bed. His orderly Gran had never let him try the candy since the resulting bubbles were magically impossible to clean for several days afterward, yet the drawer was full of their wrappers. There was a single wrapper from every time he'd been to visit his parents, and his mum gave him one every time he left. It was the only thing he'd ever received from either of them. He walked over to the sink to wash the blue gunk off his hand. He couldn't help the single tear that fell down his cheek into the sink and down the drain.
*pop*
Neville hurriedly wiped his face with his hands to hide the fact that he'd been crying before he turned around to face Woobey, the house elf, who had appeared behind him.
"Is Master ready to begin his gardening lessons?" droned the ancient elf. Despite his efforts, Neville felt certain that the elf knew exactly what his master had been doing when he popped in. Woobey had known Neville since birth, and not much got past him.
Thinking of the greenhouses, Neville sighed. His Gran had decided that since he was now eight years old - and still hadn't shown any signs of magic - it was time for him to start learning about magical plants. Just in case, she had said, he needed to learn a trade. She had chosen expertise in managing and containing magical plants as something that could give him a job in the wizarding world that wouldn't wholly disgrace the Longbottom name. Gran herself was currently far too busy coordinating the Dark Force Defence League's latest contract from the Ministry of Magic - stamping out the underground English nundu trade - to teach him herself, so she had chosen her most trusted house elf, Woobey, to tutor Neville instead. At least Neville had been learning quickly so far, finally earning him one stern nod of approval from his Gran.
Neville forced himself to plaster a smile on his face before replying to the shriveled creature. "Now would be a great time, Woobey. Let's head out to the greenhouses and get to work." Reaching out, Neville grabbed Woobey's hand, and they popped away.
~~~~~~~~~~ 1989 ~~~~~~~~~~
"Have you cleaned your room today?" The voice of his mother came from downstairs.
"Yes, mother. I cleaned my room this morning." And yesterday morning and the morning before that. Draco sometimes couldn't stand his mother. She was so obsessed with having everything perfect that Draco was sure she would one day drive him out of his mind.
"Good boy, Draco. I'm so proud of you!"
"Thank you, mother. I'm glad I can help." He'd been through this routine countless times. He was sure it wouldn't be long before he was a disgrace again.
"Could you set the table for dinner, dear? We are having the minister over for dinner tonight, so use the fine china."
"Yes, mother." Draco carefully set up the table, knowing that even the slightest mistake could turn disastrous. Knife on the right, facing towards the plate. Spoon on the right of the knife. Salad fork and fork on the left, with the salad fork on the outside. Dessert fork above the plate facing right. Dessert spoon above that facing left. And so he continued around the table, everything in its place.
This routine frustrated Draco to no end. This work was for a house-elf! Not the heir to the Malfoy estate! He should be learning to take his place as one of the rulers of the wizarding elite! Not setting his mother's dinner table for the hundredth time. There were a hundred books in the library that he could be reading to learn to be more like his father, but his mother wouldn't let him touch them for fear that Draco wouldn't put them back exactly as he found them. It was maddening!
Placing the last fork down with perhaps more force than strictly necessary, he called out, "I'm done, mother!"
Draco stood to the side as his mother inspected his work. He stilled the urge to flinch every time she hmm'd over one of his placements, but each time it was a false alarm until she reached the final place setting.
"Draco." His mother had that dangerously cold voice. The one that never signalled anything good for him. She grabbed her son by the collar and dragged him over to the place setting. "This is unacceptable! The teacup is not centered in the saucer, and the table underneath this fork is scuffed."
Draco paled as he listened, "I'm sorry, Mother. I'll get it right next time, Mother."
Narcissa sighed, "You're such a failure, Draco. Such a disappointment. Unable to even set a simple table. You're a disgrace to the Malfoy name." She drew her wand and, with a quick wave of her wand, all the plates, cups, and tableware Draco had so carefully set out all returned to their places in the nearby cabinet. "Once more, Draco. And do it right this time, please. You wouldn't want your father to hear about how disappointing you are." She turned and left the room.
No, he did not want his father to hear. He got precious little time with his father as it was, with him being so busy, and he didn't want any of that time to be wasted with punishments. He would set the table again, and he would set it to his mother's satisfaction. Maybe then she would let him visit Uncle Sev and play chess or brew potions. At least there he would be treated like a wizard, not a house elf.
~~~~~~~~~~ 1990 ~~~~~~~~~~
Luna loved the scent of the goosegrass ink her father used to print the Quibbler. It perfused the basement he worked out of, making it her favourite place to read. She was currently enjoying several notes that her father had taken yesterday after an interview with the local herbalist, Maggie Fawcett, about the various magical properties of lobalugs. It had been boring to read her father's work when she was younger, but that was before her mother invented the Quick Quotes Quill. The quill was intended to help with transcription, but it actually ended up... twisting things a bit. It tended to write down whatever the owner wanted to hear most. In the case of her absentminded father, his notes had become sprinkled with names of all the elusive, possibly imaginary, magical creatures he'd been hunting all his life. She giggled quietly to herself - she highly doubted Mrs. Fawcett had ever seen a crumple-horned snorkack, never mind recommended mixing their hair with the lobalug juice to perk up wrinkling skin. When she was younger, she had asked her mother why she hadn't used her arithmancy to create a better spell to enchant the quills. The answer was quite simple: the journalists loved them and paid exorbitant prices to have them. As a bonus, the Quibbler had started selling better since Xenophillus had begun using his. Very practical, her mother was.
"Luna, dearest!" Xenophillus called from behind his gargantuan printing press.
Luna hurried over to her father. "Yes, father?" She found him standing in a pile of goo, the bottom of which had hardened, leaving him quite trapped. From the looks of things, it had been slowly dripping from the bottom of the press for quite a while, but he simply hadn't noticed.
"Would you go get your mother for me? I don't want to destabilize the nargle nests by vanishing these aquavirius maggot droppings. Pandora is always so much better at charms than I am."
Luna nodded solemnly at her father before starting to skip up the stairs. Her mother's arithmancy experiments were held in the loft of the house as they occasionally caused some unusual reactions, and it was much easier to rebuild the loft than the entire house. At an early age, she learned not to interrupt her mother when she got bored and wanted to play with someone; it was simply too distracting for her. As she got older, she had learned that she could sometimes watch her mother as long as she was quiet. As long as she snuck in quietly and waited for a lull in the self-sorting bookshelf spell her mother was working on, she should be able to get her mother in a couple of minutes.
As Luna reached the top of the staircase, the door into the loft was sucked inwards. Totally unprepared, Luna was swept into the loft, too. Inside, it was a swirling vortex. Caught at the edge, she whirled around the outside, flailing. She could see her mother at the center. Arithmancy formulas were crawling all over her skin, the floors, the walls. As they passed, they left trails of strange elements in their wake: metals, green ooze, fire. As Lune watched, the unnatural elements began to react with each other, and her mother began to dissolve, crack, melt, and burn all at the same time. Luna couldn't contain the scream that was torn from her throat and swallowed up by the winds, which were still spinning her around the room. Everything froze for an instant and then began to play itself backward. Then forward. When the remains of her mother's body finally exploded, Luna was thrown back down the staircase and blissfully slipped into unconsciousness.
Xenophillus would spend agonizing days by Luna's side, waiting for her to awaken. When she finally did, his grief at losing his wife was tempered by pride in the fact that his daughter was now even more blessed. Luna could see the extremely rare wrackspurts. What else could his daughter help him uncover?
~~~~~~~~~~ October 31st 1991 ~~~~~~~~~~
Severus Snape sprinkled a pinch of pixie dust over the small flame underneath a miniature golden cauldron. Dumbledore had finally given him the day off from teaching, much to the joy of his students, who had grown ever more afraid of his yearly snit. He had taken the opportunity to work on one of his more esoteric experiments while he waited for Lucius to finish his business and pick him up for their outing. The potion was exceedingly delicate, and in any reasonable quantity, its more unstable stages would burn through the magically inert cauldron, his spell-warded floor, the thousand-year-old, highly magically fortified foundations of the castle, and likely down to the underlying bedrock before fizzling out. Thus, he could only brew in this minuscule container.
Picking up one of the hollywood toothpicks he used to stir the mixture, he carefully poked it over the rim of the tiny cauldron. Two clockwise stirs, half a counter-clockwise stir, and then a back and forth motion across the middle done in perfect 4/4 time. The potion was incredibly precise, but if he could just get the thing to work, then maybe he could be released from his overbearing guilt.
He removed the toothpick from the cauldron, finding that the incredibly volatile mixture had dissolved it. Hopefully, the holly essence would help calm the potion down through the next stage, where all his previous attempts had failed. If he succeeded, then he could finally have a chance at absolution. A drop before bedtime would allow him to spend his time of somnolence in the next world. There, he would be able to speak with Lily and beg her forgiveness, both for the way he had treated her at Hogwarts and the horrible decisions he had made afterward, which led to her untimely demise. Once he succeeded with this potion, he would beg her forgiveness every night he could until he received it. Maybe then he'd be able to live with himself.
Now, it was time to add the last ingredient: vitreous humor from the eye of a thestral taken under the light of a full moon by one who has never seen death. Fortunately, his potions supplier was used to getting obscure orders, and his four-year-old daughter collected a supply. Each full moon for the past three years, they sent him a single eye, and each month, he used it in his experiment and failed. This time would be different, though! The problem of the corrosion had been solved with holly, and this very night, he would share a night of drinking in celebration with Lucius instead of a night of drinking until he could mourn no more.
One last stir in the mark of the deathly hallows, and…"HAHA!" The mixture turned a vibrant grey, as he had expected. Now, all that was left was to pour it into the vessel he had prepared from a tombstone and drink it! He removed the protective wards he had around the potion and began pouring the mixture into the stone vessel. He barely had time to duck as the potion turned a vibrant red and exploded violently upon contact with the tombstone, cracking it in twain.
As the pain from the explosion reached his brain, Severus let out an inarticulate roar of fury, turning to the wall and smashing his fists against it. "Of course, something as simple and ordinary as a tombstone wouldn't be able to contain such a potent mixture! How could I have been so naive!" He drew his wand and cast several quite terrible spells at the remaining bits of the vessel until there was little more than dust and several large pockmarks in his wall and floor. Yet another experiment, failed. Yet another month until he could try again.
His anger spent, Severus sat down in the corner of the abandoned classroom and wept. Perhaps he would never succeed, and the thought genuinely terrified him. The guilt was crushing, and a lifetime of carrying it with him every day did not appeal to him at all.
~~~~~~~~~~ Y ~~~~~~~~~~
Lucius flooed into Dumbledore's office, as per usual on Halloween. He nodded at the headmaster, who nodded back. After a particularly heated debate about whether or not muggleborn wizards and witches should be able to get magical boating licenses two years ago, they had decided that the fewer words spoken between them, the better.
As he headed down the stairs, he cast a disillusionment charm on himself and began the long trek down to the dungeons. His son, Draco, would be starting at Hogwarts next year, and he wondered to himself how that would affect his and Severus's yearly ritual. Perhaps, once he was a bit older, Draco could join them. His son was ever so fond of his Godfather, so he would probably welcome the opportunity.
Turning the last corner to the dungeons, Lucius stopped when he saw a worrisome quantity of blood outside the specially warded classroom his friend used for his experiments. Running forward and throwing open the door, Lucius saw what looked like the scene of a particularly violent duel. There were several spots in the stonework that had chucks blown out of them, and there was a pool of blood in the corner.
Worried, Lucius turned and began following the blood tracks away from the room. If they belonged to Severus's attacker, then he needed to be dealt with before he could attack the children, and if they belonged to Severus, then he was clearly in need of assistance. As much as he disliked the Headmaster's political opinions, his friend's safety was more important, prompting him to send off his peacock patronus to Dumbledore with a simple message: "Find Severus. Now."
The tracks led him around in circles via many corridors and stairwells. Whoever left the blood trail didn't have a particular destination in mind, it seemed. Eventually, he found himself scaling the astronomy tower, and when he reached the top, he saw a figure dressed in Severus's classic black robes standing and looking over the edge, blood dripping from his hands.
Lucius ran forward and queried his friend, "Severus, are you alright? What happened? Were you attack-" He was cut off when Severus leaned forward and pitched off the side. "SEVERUS!" Lucius looked over the edge and saw his friend falling. Almost by reflex, Lucius cast Arresto Momentum with all his concentration. It wasn't a spell he used very often, but with a son learning to fly a broom, it was a good spell to know. Severus's descent slowed, though Lucius wasn't sure if he'd cast it soon enough. Severus's falling body smashed into the ground, but to Lucius's surprise, he bounced.
"It's a good thing indeed that I warded the ground around the astronomy tower." Lucius turned around to find Dumbledore behind him, for once without his signature twinkle. "There were also protections to prevent any jumping in the first place, but it seems Severus managed to disable them." Lucius neglected to respond, staring down at his friend's now gently hovering body while his heartbeat slowed.
"I have already awoken Madam Pomphrey, and she will handle any injuries Severus may have sustained, though we might have to see about getting him some professional assistance after this… incident."
"You know full well that Severus is far too prideful to admit anything to a mind healer. Short of forcing their way into his head with Legilimens and rewriting his memories, they'll be completely ineffective, and I, for one, refuse to allow you to put my friend through that."
"Then what do you suggest, Lucius? I'm afraid I find myself at a loss. I thought your yearly outings were helping him handle himself, but it seems not."
Lucius sighed. What would they do, indeed?
~~~~~~~~~~ Y ~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Edna St. Vincent Millay does a wonderful job of describing how the past several chapters have gone. In an effort to not get bogged down in the details of childhood and the boredom of having our two main characters living seven time-zones away from the rest of the people we're interested in, we've attempted to burn away a decade by simply capturing the highlights of people's lives until the children reach the magical age of 11. I hope you've enjoyed the glimpses as we passed by.
Lady Beatrice