Chapter 28

Warnings of Old Magic

31st October 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland

Passed the middle of October, the weather over the grounds and the castle of Hogwarts took quickly a turn for the worst. Many students fell ill after having assisted to the Potions class in the dungeons where the temperature of the cauldrons was not enough to erase completely the impression of cold. Few people dared staying in the open corridors, as the wind and the temperature made it a very unpleasant experience. Summer was definitely over, and now Autumn promised to be execrable. While the beginning of October had seen light rains, the raindrops were now falling without stopping for days. The water level of the Black Lake was rising so high it was submerging many students' summer spot, and the short travel to go to the greenhouses for the Herbology classes was a torrent of mud which made a hot shower in the Common Room extremely attractive afterwards.

As the Reserve Seeker of Ravenclaw, Alexandra was only supposed to train on the Sundays with the rest of the team, a fact she was really happy of. The last sessions had ended with her drenched to the skin so bad her skin had almost turned blue, her robes splattered in mud and her motivation to become the titular Seeker largely diminished. And the training Captain Roger Davies supervised was nowhere as insane as the one imagined by Oliver Wood. The Quidditch fanatic who captained the Gryffindor team was sometimes training his 'victims' five times a week. At every possible moment of the day and with an energy which was kind of frightening, the seven red-gold players did tiring sequences until they were comatose. But they were Gryffindors after all, and frankly, Alexandra didn't see the point to train so much when it degraded your academic performances.

The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams had put a concerted effort to spy on the Slytherin one, and the Weasley Twins had directed the same effort for Gryffindor House. The result had been a morale-crusher. With their new Nimbus 2001, the Slytherin team was now timed at average speeds of 120 miles per hour. In ideal conditions -which were less and less present with the terrible autumn weather- Flint and his band of pure-blood brutes were seven greenish blurs, playing in another dimension and speed than the rest of the Hogwarts students.

The worst part was that she had been right from the beginning, according to Morag correspondence with her parents. The Nimbus 2001 had indeed been rushed too fast on the market, and they had a lot of defaults in their Braking Charms. They were several other deficient features only a Quidditch specialist like Morag MacDougal or Ronald Weasley could understand, but this was by far the biggest default. The Nimbus 2001 was only an imperfect, boosted version of the Nimbus 2000. It was a world-class broom, one who should only be available to Quidditch professional players. But it was not THE world-class broom everyone waited for the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. Many Quidditch League teams of England and Ireland had kept their Nimbus 2000, and now some Keepers and Beaters, who didn't need an inaccurate speed boost, were reversing to their former broomsticks.

But at Hogwarts, the defaults of the Nimbus 2001 didn't matter. The Quidditch teams of Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Hufflepuffs had only two Nimbus combined for three teams...and one was belonging to Alexandra, who wasn't in the titular Ravenclaw team. And it was an old second-hand model anyway. The regular Ravenclaw players had four Cleansweep 7, two Comet 250 and one Comet 260. The Hufflepuffs played with two Comet 240, two Comet 250, two Cleansweep 6 and one Comet 260. The Gryffindors had the largest number of different broom models: two Cleansweep 5, one Comet 250, one Cleansweep 6, one Comet 260, one Cleansweep 7 and one Nimbus 2000.

Against the monstrous performances of the Nimbus 2001, only the Nimbus 2000 of Neville Longbottom was of any utility. The other brooms, Comets and Cleansweeps, were simply out-classed, out-performed and a lot of other derogatory commentaries some of the most fervent Quidditch addicts grumbled in the corridors.

"So that's why Malfoy is insufferable at the moment. Okay, more insufferable than usual on a normal day." Alexandra was currently busy telling Morag, as they left the Ravenclaw Common Room to go the Halloween Fest in the Great Hall. "The blonde git thinks there's no way his team will lose. According the unofficial bets the Professors say we aren't supposed to make, a Gryffindor victory is at nine-to-one."

"That high?" Wondered Morag.

After a brief period of adaptation, the MacDougal Heiress had been adopted by the group formed by Alexandra, Hermione and Nigel. While Morag was a pure-blood, she had none of the bigotry shared by some families like the Malfoys, the Notts or the Smiths. On the other hand, she had not lost her tongue and did not hesitate to gently reprimand Hermione when the bushy-haired girl broke the wizarding customs and the decorum rules. Morag provided also an objective view of politics and events in Britain, because if her family was really influential in Ireland and in trade, her parents were firmly on the Neutral block of the Wizengamot and as such did not follow Dumbledore or Lucius Malfoy.

"Well, usually it's the Weasley Twins and a couple of older Gryffindors who organise the bets. But this year, exceptionally, some Slytherins have decided to begin their own system. One wonders why."

"Should we try to ruin them?" Asked Morag with a smile which made Alexandra wonder why the blue-eyed girl hadn't been sorted in Slytherin.

Probably for the same reason as I. Too dangerous for the Snakes precious pure-blood lives.

"Don't think so." The Potter Heiress refused." If Slytherin wins, it will be us who will have filled the pockets of the Snakes with gold. With the Snakes boys and girls being their parent's children," which was a polite way they had a good chance to become Death Eaters or the lackeys of any Dark Lord like their relatives, «I don't want to support them financially."

"Understandable." Whispered the red-haired Ravenclaw, who then turned on a corridor on their right instead of continuing straight-on to descend on the fourth floor.

"Err...Morag? This is not the fastest way to the Great Hall?"

"I know." Replied the Heiress of House MacDougal. "But I waited to talk to you in a place where there are no portraits or anything to hear us."

Effectively, this part of the sixth floor was one which had not been well maintained or embellished. There were just bare grey walls with no decoration or medieval painting in sight.

"Tell me Alexandra." Morag told her in a grave voice. "What do you know of the Old Ways?"

Alexandra stared at the red-haired Ravenclaw in silence for a moment, before finally answering.

"That they are the magical versions of the non-magical Celtic traditions, if the information I found about them is correct. Four major celebrations during the years: Samhain, Imbolc, Beltane and Lughnasadh and I think there is something on the day of the winter solstice too. Something called Yule?"

Alexandra passed her hand in her black hair in annoyance. "There was very little information in Hogwarts library about that, though it is not surprising considering the Ministry of Magic has classified them as forbidden magical rituals since 1983. Participating in them is worth a ten-year prison sentence at Azkaban, I believe."

"Good sum-up for a non-initiate," Said Morag, "but also incomplete."

"The Old Ways are indeed magical rituals, but contrary to everything the Ministry sprouts this day, they aren't Dark, evil or anything which corrupts the soul of the poor wizards and witches who participate in it. They are. They exist. They are our means to protect our lands, our crops, our traditions, our magic. "The voice of Morag grew more intense, more passionate as she continued." They are times where we need to cleanse our souls and magic, to re-align us in life. Moments we need to remember our songs, our ancestral traditions."

"The books said they can be... means for the Dark and Light Powers to enter our world." Said Alexandra when Morag stopped speaking, trying to digest what the other Ravenclaw had said.

"They can." Agreed Morag. "And these moments are usually blessed because their apparition is followed by times of great abundance and prosperity."

"Usually?"

"You said it yourself, Alexandra. Participating in a ritual of the Old Ways is worth a jail sentence. As a result, most of the families who continued to practise them are doing it on their own, or only with their closest allies. With so few people gathered, there hadn't been a significant event at one of our celebrations in over eighty years." The regret in the Ravenclaw girl's voice was palpable.

"I suppose...it has had some noticeable effects?" Asked the Potter Heiress.

"Oh, nothing to worry about," Affirmed Morag in a tone copied from Alexandra when she did sarcastic remarks. "Famines. Starvation. Crops destroyed. The equilibrium of the seasons modified. War. Conflict. Every time we don't respect nature and our traditions, then our world doesn't see any reason to respect us back, Alexandra."

"I wasn't aware it had gotten so bad." The green-eyed girl said in a subdued tone.

"Not many do." Said the MacDougal Heiress. "Half-Bloods and Muggleborns who have entered our world these last decades don't know anything about the Old Ways. It's not like they can't participate," she quickly added as Alexandra frowned, "but too many trust blindly the Ministry or, well..."

"You can say it, you know." Alexandra said with a loud sigh. "Dumbledore decreed the Old Ways are Dark, and who are we humble mortals to speak against him?"

"Not like I wanted to say it, but close enough." Morag nodded.

"That doesn't explain why you are speaking to me about it, Morag. I mean I'm flattered and everything to know about this, but why me? I was raised in a non-magical environment, and the only things I know from the Old Ways are things I found in books about Celtic traditions. There are plenty of people I'm sure who know way better than me the centuries-old traditions of the wizards and witches."

In fact, a lot of her interest in Celtic tradition came from the fact Tolkien books had been impregnated of it. Too bad a lot of the primary's school and local libraries were so incomplete in their sources.

"But they are not Heiresses and allied to House MacDougal."

"The alliance I understand, but I thought Heiress was only was a nobility title." Told Alexandra, once more cursing the lack of existence of a guide to learn everything she needed to know on her eleventh birthday.

"No, each Heiress or Heir at birth is the subject of a fairly harmless magical ritual destined to make her or him a potential Lady or Lord in his own right. It's one of a few things Dumbledore hasn't managed to ban as Chief Warlock."

"And you know I received it while I was a baby?" Alexandra asked.

"The revealing spells for this ritual are really simple. And you tested positive to all of them." Said simply Morag. "Now I want to ask you a simple question. Do you want to join my family and me for the Samhain celebrations at MacDougal manor?"

"And when exactly are said celebrations?"

"After dinner."

"That's...how do we leave Hogwarts anyway? Dumbledore is certainly not going to give us the authorisation to leave for banned rituals!"

"Let's just say that while our esteemed Headmaster is against the Old Ways, there are some teachers who aren't so prejudiced and agree to cover us for our 'family reunions' ". We will Floo to MacDougal Manor and we will be back in time for Monday classes. So are you okay with it?"

Alexandra tired to think calmly and clearly, a not so easy task when the thoughts rushed in her head. Her only religious experiences so far in her life had been with the Dursleys on a few Sunday mornings, and Vernon and Petunia had always applied the logic that "God hates Freaks".

As a result, her personal religious fervour had been situated somewhere between zero and something lower than the abyss of the Moria's great bridge. Knowing the Church in the Bible recommended to "burn the witch" once she had known the truth about her inheritance had not helped things. Still, what Morag had said struck a chord within her. For all the classes they had had since their Sorting in first year, there had been no real explanation of the origin of magic and the traditions of this world. Halloween was a non-magical invention, as were Christmas, Valentine's Day and Easter for that matter. Moreover, participating in these celebrations was a means to escape the road her magical guardian, one Albus Dumbledore, had planned for her. Which made it indeed all the more attractive.

"Yes, I will go with you for the Samhain celebrations. But I hope you have the clothes and everything needed for it, because I certainly don't."

"It will not be a problem." Smiled Morag. "But I'm afraid I must ask you a Vow of Secret before we go to the Feast in the Great Hall."

Alexandra narrowed her eyes, but didn't protest. It was logical, after all. If celebrating the Old Ways the...old way was as taboo as Morag and the Ministry implied, Oaths were not simply needed, they had to be required for the safety of every family.

"How about Nigel and Hermione?"

"They can't come, I asked." Revealed the Irish witch. "Nigel's grandfather is an old goat who is waiting for a good excuse to disinherit him. As for Hermione, she would need a full Initiation...and she refused to do it."

Alexandra grimaced, knowing the dark aspects of rituals repeated endlessly in the Ministry official books had certainly something to do with the decision of the bushy-haired Gryffindor. Or was it the Leader of the Light's vocal denunciations of the Old Ways? Something to keep in mind and discuss with her later.

Drawing her wand, Alexandra spoke "I, Alexandra Victoria Potter, swear to keep Secret every word and knowledge concerning the Old Ways, their traditions and the magical practises of House MacDougal which has just been spoken. By my magic, so I swear. So Mote it be!"

A blue flash from her wand lightened for an instant the corridor, and Alexandra felt something icy penetrate her skin, the magic of the Vow taking hold.

"And I, Morag Ciara MacDougal, swear to keep Secret every word and knowledge concerning the Old Ways, their traditions and the magical practises of House Potter which has just been spoken. By my magic, so I swear. So Mote it be!"

A second blue flash echoed from the red-haired Ravenclaw's wand before being channelled into her body.

After that, the rest of the travel to the Great Hall turned to safer subjects of conversation. Charms Homework, where Professor Dhillon had given them a big dissertation on the mastery of the Levitation charms and its derivatives. Then it was the turn of Potions, with the rivalry between Snakes and Lions did ravages: a rat eye sent by Gregory Goyle had found mysteriously its way in the cauldron of Leo Black, and Professor Snape had refused to admit one of his precious Slytherins was at fault. As one member of the Golden Trio -or the New Marauders as the new nickname rose in popularity- had been hurt, the rumour mill was waiting with glee what form the revenge of the Lions was going to take.

As the two Ravenclaw girls were about to pass the doors leading to the Great Hall and seat to their table for the Halloween Feast, Alexandra remarked a weak rope of energy rose from the ground in front of her right at the entrance, one which was pale and scintillating, really difficult to see to the human eye.

"Morag. Stop." She told to her friend who had continued to advance.

"What is your problem, Potty?" Asked the infamous sneering voice of Draco Malfoy behind her. "Afraid eating will give you bad marks?"

Rotating to see the Heir of the Malfoy family, Alexandra saw Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson laugh at the pathetic joke of their leader. Behind them came a dozen or so Slytherins second and first-year.

"Not at all. Heir Malfoy. But I would be terribly," the Potter heiress stressed as much as she could the last word, «lacking in courtesy and traditions if I didn't let you enter first the Hall."

And she emphasized the sentence with a large movement of her hand and a small scrape. Any other Ravenclaw student of second-year would have understood she was making fun of them, but the four Slytherins were unlikely to win any competition of intelligence in the short-term future.

Malfoy inflated like a frog as his ego was caressed, all prudence banished from his mind. The son of Lucius Malfoy marched in a triumphant manner in the direction of the Slytherin table, his three lackeys on his heels...only to stop a few seconds later with screams of horror. Touching the imperceptible rope of magic had activated a sort of trap with a can of paint and coloured the four second-years Slytherin entirely in orange. Not just the robes, no. The hair, the face, the robes, the hats: everything had become a vibrant, horrid and brilliant orange. Listening to the laughter behind her, Alexandra looked over her shoulder in time to see the Golden Trio running up in the stairs.

"Professor Snape! It's Longbottom , Black and Weasley!" Whined Malfoy, whose platinum-blonde hair had become a deep orange which was making him frankly ridiculous. "Look at what they've done! When my father will hear of this..."

Morag and Alexandra looked each other, and then ran to the Ravenclaw table doing their best not to laugh, as Professor Snape, black robes bellowing theatrically, left his place at the Head table and went to examine the new skin's colour of Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. The four pranked Slytherin didn't seem to enjoy their new appearance, if their moaning was any indication. Crabbe and Goyle were not talking, but it was possible their speed of thoughts was so slow they hadn't still realised the trap they had just fallen into. There was also the issue painting them in orange might make them more presentable, depending on the perspective. It could hardly make them uglier, given that they were currently the persons at Hogwarts bearing the most resemblance to a certain Dudley Dursley.

Fortunately for the orange-painted students, Professor Snape was not only competent in potions, cauldrons and strange ingredients. Two twirls of his wand, and Malfoy plus cohorts were back to their original colours. Alas, the Potions master could do nothing for the humiliation the girl and the three boys had just been handed. Morag and Alexandra had refrained to burst in cries and laughter, but the rest of the crowd now assembled in the Great Hall had no such compunction. At the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, dozens of students savoured the discomfiture of the Malfoy Heir and his allies. The Slytherins were not laughing, their unity against every other Houses prevented them to do so, but Snakes like Nott and Higgs were smirking, and no one rose to display his support to the Malfoy Heir. Even the young cousin of the arrogant and wealthy pure-blood Lyre de Male-Foi was contemplating with a disabused expression the spectacle unfolding. Unlike her relative, she knew the blow the family's reputation had suffered by acting like a petulant child.

Returning to Professor Snape, the Head of Slytherin was presently showing a face which would have made any living being flee with all celerity. With his black robes and the feeling of imminent death the teacher spread around him, the Boy-Who-Lived and his friends were not going to pass a nice moment when they would be dragged for a fateful meeting with him. At the moment, the caretaker Argus Filch was standing at attention before him, his detested cat Mrs Norris on the right, in all likelihood receiving his marching orders to captures the miscreants plaguing the corridors of the noble school. Finally, Snape ceased to speak and Filch departed the Hall to fight the crime in the corridors. The huge doors progressively closed with a loud "GONG!" and the chatter of conversations as the Headmaster rose from his large seat among his fellow professors.

"Happy Halloween!" Beamed Albus Dumbledore with a grandfather-expression which once more made him an avatar of Merlin or Gandalf on this Earth."The pumpkins are larger than ever and orange reigns supreme! Tick in!"

Fine. No sanity in his sentences this Halloween.

The golden plates and the dishes instantly filled themselves of delicious foods. Once more time, the raven-haired witch remarked a great majority of the available meals this evening were denied to the students during the rest of the year. Was Hogwarts having funds problem or did the adults simply want to avoid the future generation of magicians looking like Dudley Dursley? Alexandra felt she could very well deal with this kind of dinner every day. Well apart from the fact she would need to do physical activities every day, not just the running in the castle she did three times a week. Oh, and while the food was excellent, the clouds of bats and the large pumpkins cut to display large mouths with candles in them were not of good taste, at least in her opinion. The music which was also played by invisible musicians was a bit too dramatic for Halloween. That said an adult had chosen the songs, thus it was perhaps excusable.

All in all, it was for an acceptable dinner and Alexandra could see Hermione and Nigel shared her opinion at the Gryffindor table. There was certainly no troll to kill the ambiance tonight. No member of the staff except the caretaker was absent, so it was highly improbable a monster was currently on rampage at Hogwarts. The green-eyed girl was taking her second part of dessert of the evening and thinking about the upcoming Samhain festivities at MacDougal Manor when an awful sound echoed abruptly in the Great Hall. Like if someone had pushed a switch, the joyous voices of all the students and professors who were enjoying the moment died, with fear and surprise appearing to replace happiness and tranquillity. What exactly could have made such a noise?

Before the fastest babbling student had the seconds to make his opinion known, Headmaster Dumbledore rushed outside the hall, with an agility and a speed which were quite frankly phenomenal when one paused to think the wizard was over a hundred years old. In spite of his advanced years, the Grand Sorcerer had accomplished an athletic performance a man half his age would be quite happy to imitate. Granted, wizards had a higher life expectancy than the rest of their non-magical cousins but still...

"He didn't say to go directly to the dormitories this time, didn't he?" Said Morag as countless students raced after the Headmaster to see what had just hastened the end of the Halloween Feast.

"Well there's no imbecile to shout 'Troll in the dungeon!' this time, isn't it?" Replied Alexandra, as Hermione and Nigel raced to join them from the Gryffindor table. "But this time, I don't know about you, but I have a very bad feeling."

"What was this sound?" Panicked Nigel, coming straight from the Gryffindor table.

"It might be one of the Hogwarts wards alerting Professor Dumbledore that something grave has happened." Proposed Hermione, as the group of four followed the teachers and the dozens of students running out of the Great Hall and climbing to the second floor where the Headmaster had disappeared.

The progression was not easy. The corridor and the stairs they climbed were not part of the main avenues the students used to go to a class or the House's Common Rooms. As a result, what could happen when hundreds of students pressed on at the same time in the same direction and towards the same goal predictably happened. A crowd formed, with each witch and wizard in the crowd whispering, speaking out outright shouting his opinion about the matter. Until they reached the second floor where Professor Dumbledore had stopped.

The first thought which came to Alexandra when they reached the location, their progression hidden by a large group of bulky Hufflepuffs fifth-years, was how much this part of the castle looked like the one where Morag had spoken to her about the Old Ways. No wizarding portraits. No decorations. No classrooms. No enchanted windows. Just a bare, dark wall of stone, which might have been there since Hogwarts very foundation for all the Ravenclaw witch knew.

The students before Alexandra and Hermione moved a bit on the left, allowing them to finally what was making the firsts persons to reach the scene gasp and shudder.

A circle had been formed by the Hogwarts student population, and in the middle of it were Neville Longbottom, Leo Black and Ron Weasley. With a certain satisfaction Alexandra noticed the trio was looking shameful and apprehensive. Next to them was Headmaster Dumbledore himself, who had drawn his wand and was now lightening two statues. Statues? No, these weren't statues. It was the caretaker Argus Filch and his cat Mrs. Norris, who both looked like they had been turned into stone.

That was bad. Very bad. But there was more worrying. As lights came out from the wands of dozen of students, the corridor became clearer and forcing her eyes through the darkness, Alexandra finally perceived the inscription.

Foot-high words had been graved magically in the wall, and now at the light of the wands and the torches they began to burn, shimmering in the darkness to reveal their sinister message.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

To Alexandra's side, Hermione groaned.

"Please, someone tell me it's a new horrible joke of the Golden Trio..." Murmured Nigel.

"If it's them, they are improving." Whispered Alexandra. "From glue and painting pranks to something that turns an adult into stone in over an hour?"

Then someone shouted through the buzzing low-voiced conversations.

"Enemies of the heir, beware! First the Squib, you'll be next, Mudbloods!"

It was Draco Malfoy. The idiot blonde had pushed through the middle of the crowd, his blue eyes alive and enjoying the spectacle, his usually bloodless face flushed in a tone reminding he had been orange-coloured not so long ago, and he grinned at the sight of the immobile Filch and his pet.

Alexandra felt truly revolted and disgusted at the arrogant blonde bigot, who was obviously taking pleasure at the macabre scene. True, she had never been a great fan of Filch and his cat. But really, nobody liked the caretaker. Who would like a person having the manners, the corporal hygiene and the ethics more in line with the dark periods of the Middle Ages rather than the late twentieth century? Attacking him like that was nevertheless going too far, and insulting all those who had non-magical ancestry in public was even less acceptable. Alexandra was really in the mind of cursing the blonde git here and now for having the audacity to denigrate her mother's ancestry. But before Alexandra had the time to draw her wand, the action began.

The Malfoy Heir, too busy gloating, had neglected to watch his surroundings. If he had, Draco Malfoy would have noticed he was surrounded, not by his bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle or other Slytherin bigots, but by Hufflepuff fourth and fifth-years, a good proportion of them coming from the non-magical world. Their reaction was swift and brutal. In less than five seconds, the blonde second-year took two punches in the belly, one kick in the legs, his pale face began to cover in pustule and the lace of his shoes mysteriously animated to form a complicated pattern between his legs. Then the sole child of Lucius Malfoy lost his equilibrium, although he managed to land on his backside.

Fortunately or unfortunately for the future of the Malfoy family, Dumbledore had emerged from his magical trance and began again to give his safety instructions, a fact which surely saved Draco from a lengthy stay in the infirmary.

"All the students return to their Common Rooms!" Said the old and powerful wizard with his wand pulsating silver sparks to make himself remarked.

"Come with me, Minerva," Dumbledore said to Professor McGonagall. "You too, Misters Longbottom, Weasley and Black."

Gilderoy Lockhart, who had managed to reach to the incident scene in his horrid and flashy orange-purple wizard robes, stepped forward eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster – just upstairs – please feel free –"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore, in a tone which managed to be at the same time thankful and cold towards the incompetent Defence Professor.

The crowd parted to let them pass in a silence of death, punctuated only by the whining of Draco Malfoy. Lockhart, looking excited and important as usual, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape. After that, every student began to depart to return to their respective Common Rooms, the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors in their towers, the Hufflepuffs towards the first floor and the Slytherins in the dungeons.

Saying goodbye to Hermione and Nigel for the night, Alexandra left with Morag.

"What is the Chamber of Secrets, by the way?" Asked Michael Corner, one of their fellow second-year housemates.

"No idea." Replied his friend Stephen Cornfoot, one of the pure-bloods who was among the specialists of Wizarding legends and traditions. "But I hope they catch the culprit rapidly."

Exchanging a dismayed look with Morag, Alexandra was not wasting her breath to wait such an unlikely resolution. If last year was any judge, the culprits at Hogwarts weren't caught until it was too late.

"Ready for Samhain?" Whispered Morag. «At the next corner we turn to the right and we run to Professor Babbling's office."

Alexandra nodded with firm resolution. She had had some doubt to participate in an Old Ways ritual, but with another Halloween turning to disaster at Hogwarts, going to MacDougal Manor was a safer course than she would have thought in other circumstances.

31th October 1992 and 1st November 1992, MacDougal Manor, Ireland

In the stupor provoked by the mysterious attack on Argus Filch and Mrs Norris, none of the other Ravenclaw students had remarked Alexandra and Morag's departure. Opening the unlocked door of the Runes Professor Batsheda Babbling, the two young witches had taken the Floo powder (which by a mysterious coincidence was largely in evidence among the mantelpiece ornaments), they had shouted "MacDougal Manor!" and disappeared in a whirlwind of green fire. On the good side, this method of transport was way more pleasant in Alexandra's opinion than the Portkey taken to Black Cobra Manor. On the bad side, it was less enjoyable than teleportation or broom riding.

When they arrived to the Irish Manor, all lights were out. Morag explained quickly to Alexandra how they would not be re-lightened until the end of the ritual, and now they had to hasten. The ritual of Samhain was about to begin, and Lady MacDougal, Morag's mother, had according to the principal interested threatened to her to decrease her monthly allowance by half if she dared come late to the celebration.

"You were late once?" Could not stop to ask Alexandra, as they entered in a room which looked like reserved for invites as it was relatively lightly decorated with two simple paintings representing Irish fields full of wild flowers.

"When I was ten." Admitted the red-haired Ravenclaw. "I had gotten to the little village not far from here where several other children live, I forgot the time and I came...very late home. Never forgot the sermon my mother spoke to me afterwards."

Morag then turned towards with her, her perfect white teeth shining in the penumbra. With a gesture of her hand she showed her some clothes on the unoccupied bed.

Approaching it, Alexandra realised it was a wizarding robe, but very different from the large black ones of Hogwarts. To start with, it was red. A deep crimson red. Unlike the Hogwarts robes, it had not been conceived to be large and for anyone to wear pulls, shirts or any sort of clothes under it. It was really skin-tight...and to Alexandra's astonishment it was clear not much would be able to be worn under that, not even tights.

"You're kidding right?" The green-eyed Ravenclaw asked to Morag, uncomfortably aware she was blushing and that her Ravenclaw friend was laughing silently of her embarrassment.

"Strip, Alexandra." Laughed Morag. And to give the example, Morag joined the gesture to the speech and began to remove all her clothes.

Sighing and wondering at sometimes the curious traditions of witches and wizards, Alexandra took off in turn her own robes, though she suffered another blush when she realised every clothes had really to come off for the celebration, including bras and panties.

Imitating Morag, Alexandra then put the red robes and most of her blush went away. The new clothes had warming charms and were less difficult to put-on than she had expected. They were as revealing as they seemed, alas. Standing on her feet and looking in the only mirror of the room, she could not stop to gasp as the teenager in red robes certainly couldn't be her. She looked...elegant.

"Is that all?" Alexandra asked to Morag, without looking behind her.

"Not quite." Replied the red-haired witch. And as Alexandra was still busy watching her reflection in the mirror, the other witch came behind her and posed a red mask on her face, which instantly fit closely around her head.

"Wow. Just, wow." Whispered Alexandra. In the mirror, she and Morag were now virtually indistinguishable, the red robes moulding their bodies, the masks hiding their visages and a sort of Colouring Charm worked because their hairs were now both a deep purple instead of black and red. Only their feet were not concerned by the different Samhain clothes, the robes stopping at their ankles.

"Now we don't speak until dawn, Alexandra. Not a word." Said Morag in a deadly serious tone. "Enjoy the instant, and remember, let the magic flow into you."

Both the Potter and MacDougal Heiresses left the room, descended one set of stairs and left MacDougal Manor, marching bare-feet in the obscurity in the direction of a large group of imposing stones, which appeared to be dolmens. It was hard to judge in the night, but Alexandra believed there were other witches and wizards marching towards the same meeting point.

Once they had reached their destination, this assumption was revealed true. In the middle of the ancestral stones, small candles made in the middle of pumpkins provided the only source of light, revealing between twenty and thirty figures dressed like Morag and Alexandra in skin-tight red robes. Without a word spoken, every participant formed a circle around the biggest dolmen, a large black stone where hundreds, no thousands of runes had been engraved. Piled at the base of the stone were large pumpkins, fruits, vegetables and every sort of cereals which could be cultivated in England. There was also a cow. The animal looked very old and was tied to the stone with a black leash.

One of the masked women in the circle raised her hands, a silent command and every candle in the pumpkins diminished in intensity, before finally being extinguished. In the darkness and the silence, the witch which had just plunged the assembly in the darkness approached the cow in the centre of the circle. She took seconds petting her...and then she struck, slitting the throat of the animal in a fluid and precise movement. Then the masked woman returned to her place in the circle, giving her dagger to the person to her right, who advanced and plunged the bloody dagger in the flesh of the now deceased cow.

One by one, each person in the circle, including Alexandra advanced and shed blood with the dagger. In other circumstances, she would have judged the task to be horrible, but there was a sense of sadness, of powerful power in the air. It was full of magic. Not the magic of Hogwarts, full of light and the joy of students. Deep and raw magic, the type which was practised thousands of years ago, when humanity was young and science was not even a whisper. A time where magic ruled sovereign and was present everywhere in the grass and the rivers. A time which did not exist anymore today.

Once everyone had played its part with the dagger, a new phase of the ritual began. One by one, the witches and wizards of the circles advanced and with their bare-hands, without wands, lightened with their magic one candle circling the dead animal. Unlike the previous step, the length of the time varied a lot: some of the participants needed minutes to light the flame without their wands, while others managed quasi-instantly. Alexandra had not any difficulty, her wandless magic for once answered on command, but the unknown massive wizard on her right took nearly ten minutes.

This task done, the Samhain ritual went on and the women, men, boys and girls present called the magic within them, transforming the circle of candles, the dead cow and all the food stacked around the red stone into an impressive bonfire. It was at this very moment Alexandra realised why these celebrations had been strictly forbidden as part of the Old Ways. The black stone, plunged into the heart of the bonfire, was now a tower of darkness with the runes on it pulsating a glowing crimson colour. Smoke and fire erupted from it, and soon figures of shadows emerged from the dolmen, who was more and more taking the appearance of a gate. No, not a gate. It was a veil. A veil between the world of the living and the dead.

If Alexandra had any doubts about it, she recognised some of the forms now dancing, spirits she had been confronted to when they were alive. A colossal form which could be none other than a troll. A human-sized one with a turban. Professor Devkins. Hundreds of smaller ones, goblins she had seen die at Brise-Roc. Some of the curse-breakers having met their end in this mountainous fortress were there too. Afterwards, Alexandra would be at a loss how much time this part of the ceremony lasted. The figures in the smokes animated, danced and played, their last tribute to the world they had left forever. It was a beautiful experience, but also an extremely humbling one, that reminded next Samhain it could be each of the witches and wizards present which would join the spirits in their last homage.

Finally, the smoke dissipated and the red runes on the stone saw their redness fade away. The bonfire was almost consumed now, the pumpkins, the cereals and the cow, all had been devoured by the magical flames. The darkness was still total, but to her back, Alexandra could guess the dawn would not be long in coming right now, courtesy of long Astronomy lessons. Slowly, the witch, who had led the rituals raised her hand slowly over her head. Exactly what she had intended to do, Alexandra honestly didn't know.

Because at this very moment, the bonfire re-lightened itself. But the fire was not the magical red with purple that had been previously lightened by the participants. It was a green magical fire, and Alexandra realised with a certain sense of doom she recognised the colour. The Potter Heiress saw it every time she examined her eyes in the mirror every morning. From the fire, a shadow formed, indistinct but clearly there where there had been nothing before.

A massive crow emerged from the green fire, and then came landing on her right shoulder. Alexandra winced under the weight of the bird, which was several times heavier than Atalanta. The rest was so confused Alexandra would never be sure if it was reality or her own imagination. Thousands of images, visions and scenes rushed before her very eyes, scenes of battles, births and deaths. War and peace, nice cultivated lands and complete ruins. Alexandra watched as a great snake divided itself in two before bursting in a cascade of blood. Spectres came and danced, dark fortresses rose and fell. Creatures from tales and nightmares screamed in the night. A massive army, magnificent warriors of the light, mounted on horses, massing for battle. A circle of dolmens under the sunset witnessed an ambush, heroes surrounded by enemies. A grandiose arena of long age pasts returned to its former glory, and a crowd screaming for battle and murder. A volcano erupted in ashes and lava, wizards and witches fought each other while darkness absorbed everything. Grandiose palaces illuminated the world from their thousand of lights, with young adults dancing and partying in expensive clothes. A man rising from a putrid fog forcing dark-robed figures to bow and acclaim him. Disputes and feuds obscured assemblies of the elders and the wise. Monsters entered the dimension and destroyed millions. A great fish sank ships and sundered the coastal areas. A great white fortress was built in the middle of an ocean of green flames. Great dragons obscured the skies. Endless armies of automatons advancing in an unstoppable tide. Light and darkness fought a last time in the middle of fire, water, wind and earth. At no moment of her life Alexandra had not been prepared for this torrent of visions. The Potter Heiress progressively fell to her knees under the onslaught of horrors and marvels she was now forced to contemplate. Finally, she saw the crow renew his flight again and plunge in the fire.

From the emerald abyss, an imperious voice was heard. Or was it all in her head?

"You will lead my armies to the final battle."

The green flames died instantly. It was Alexandra's last vision before everything stopped and she let Morag take her outside the circle of ancient stones.