***Possible Trigger Warning, Reader Discretion Advised***
CHAPTER 21
27 October 1993
Miss Direction,
The stage has been set for the Second Contingency. I am well-informed that Targets 1, 2, and 3 will be in attendance. Rather…miraculous…that they survived the First Contingency.
Mr. Arachne
Arachne,
A miraculous waste you mean. You are certain the Rat Pack will be able to deliver?
Direction
Direction,
Indeed. Our Lord selected and used them for this very purpose, and their reputation precedes. Plus, they are certain to be…frisky… on the night said Contingency is set to occur.
Arachne
Arachne,
They'd better be. I don't suppose you informed Nimrod?
Direction
Direction,
No. Let the cradle robber figure it out on his own.
Arachne
30 October 1993 - Trelawney's Private Quarters - Hogwarts, 4:26AM
A soft sigh signaled Sybill Trelawney's return to the land of the living, stretching as languidly as she was able to in her bed. Grabbing her wand from the side table - 9 ½ inch hazel with unicorn hair - she cast a quick Tempus, surprised at the time. She'd gotten almost 5 hours of deep uninterrupted sleep, a rarity in her world.
Granted, she'd gotten rather sloshed from her favorite Amontillado sherry ( a rare vintage) and thus had taken to sleep much quicker but still. Progress.
Even her Inner Voices seemed at ease, softly murmuring or humming contentedly.
As always, Sybill ventured into her bathroom to complete her ablutions, emerging half an hour later fully refreshed and rejuvenated. A soft pop announced the arrival of a full tea set with a small breakfast of french toast and her favorite fruits. She muttered a soft 'thank you' to Blubber, the Ravenclaw Head Elf.
While her tenure at Hogwarts had been a rather lonely one given her weirdness, Blubber had taken a shine to her, making sure she was properly fed and watered whilst attending her classes and trying her hardest to be invisible.
Back then, her Inner Voices were considerably more… erratic around large groups of people.
Professor Sapworthy had been another, recognizing the depths of her ability and ensuring that her student wouldn't go mad. A young Sybill oft hid away in the ex-Professor's quarters, grateful for the peace. Familial support had been lacking; her muggleborn father had died when she was a baby and her mother Helen was ill-equipped to understand and raise a Seeress daughter, lacking the ability herself. Plus, her estranged relationship with her Dark Seeress mother (Sybill's grandmother) had made Helen much less inclined to understanding.
As she ate, Sybill did her daily journaling, feeling oddly piqued to make little corresponding doodles. Professor Sapworthy had recommended journaling as a means to quell the rush of never-ending voices that had plagued her mind since the tender age of seven. Writing out her thoughts also helped her make sense of them, creating order out of the sheer chaos that seemed to mark every boundary of her mind. Sybill had learned to identify not only the cause of her Inner Voices, but also who they were and whence they'd come.
Though, to her frustration, she was still very much incapable of journaling her Prophecies, no matter how hard she tried to remember them.
'More than likely for the best.'
Her last Prophecy had resulted in her becoming an unwilling Divination Professor, having to teach children about a subject one simply couldn't learn to be good at.
Finishing up her scribbling, the witch locked her journal by nicking her forefinger with her wand and tracing Algiz and Othala on the cover with her blood. The journal glowed red before shimmering gold as its leatherbound cover stretched to re-cover the entirety of the book. Satisfied, she banished it back to its resting place.
Taking a few moments to enjoy the relative quiet, Sybill set about making herself a cup of tea.
A large serving of chamomile, two sugars, and a hefty dollop of cream.
Trelawney took her time to sip, savoring the taste of her third favorite repast. Finishing the contents in one sure gulp, she allowed herself to become distracted as the leaves settled.
With a deep centering breath, Sybill peered down into the cup's remains.
"Oh…" Eyes widened in horror, comically large behind her trademark frames. "Oh Circe… Noooooo!"
With a despairing cry the cup tumbled from nerveless fingers onto the carpeted floor below. Her many Inner Voices swelled into a skull-pounding crescendo, so much so that if she'd been truly inclined, she could have spoken as if she were them. The loudest sounded like her maternal grandmother Melisandre, fervently snarling about "the eve of a blood-soaked sky".
Still moaning in anguish, the Divinations Professor stumbled back into her bed, clutching at her locks as though she wanted to tear them out.
Her abandoned cup rolled around on the floor, its previous shapes becoming misshapen and muddled at the action.
What was still briefly legible, was a perfectly round lunar circle.
Abandoned Classroom, 12:18PM
A visibly nervous Greg could only stare at the sight before him. His wand - 10 ¾ inch redwood with unicorn hair - was tightly gripped in his left hand, just in case he needed to cast a Protego to defend his person. 'Good thing I've been practicing.'
Amy was absolutely furious.
She was pacing agitatedly, that which she only did when her emotions didn't - couldn't - allow her to sit still. In her left hand was a letter addressed to her from the abominable Goyle Sr. snowman, its edges already starting to wither and curl as the witchling's magic flared out in fiery rage. In her right hand was her wand, its tip glowing an ominous red in response to its mistress' impassioned mood. Barely dried tear tracks marred both cheeks as her gray orbs burned in horror and outrage. She was currently muttering under her breath, with eye-widening references to "lopped bollocks" and "finally give him the big fat piggy tail the bastard deserves!"
"Amy I-"
She whirled around in a fury. "HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN ABOUT THIS?!"
Greg jumped at the harsh volume of her tone, before tiredly sighing. With as much dignity as he could muster, he told her everything he'd eavesdropped that fateful Christmas Day.
Amy fumed for a whole minute, before a strange expression overtook her face. "Did…did Auntie know?" Her voice sounded so small.
"No," replied Greg, shaking his head fiercely. "Father didn't tell her, and I didn't tell her either. She…" he looked away ashamedly. "She cornered me before we left for the Express last month…said she could tell something was really wrong and that I looked and I quote 'as though I wanted to pummel Father's head in' end-quote. She knows…she knows I don't care for him at all on a good day, but she knew something else was going on. Something that more than likely involved you given the looks I was giving Father. I…I caved and I told her. Trust me, she was very upset."
The witchling nodded after a beat, before crying out in frustration. "Why in Circe's name didn't you tell me?!" She shook the letter vigorously, causing more of it to wither to ash.
"Because I was worried sick about you Amy!" The girl's eyes widened at the desperation in the older boy's voice. "I needed time to plan to see what I could do to keep Father from…from… following through with his deal with Lord Nott." He looked keenly disgusted. "Short of…putting the old man out of his misery, I didn't have any other plan that was…I dunno…clever enough that he could drop it all together. Plus, you know what Father's like when he gets fixated on doing something, he gets even more… impatient." He gave Amy a look, causing the girl to cringe in spite of herself. Patience was not a virtue the obese lout possessed in any capacity whatsoever. The piles of broken china and holes in the manor's walls over the years could attest to that.
"Plus," Greg continued, "telling you would lead you to doing something…drastic." He gave the girl a look, causing her to snort in response.
While Amy was quick to irritation, anger was an entirely different matter. She worked very hard on her Occlumency to not be quick to give in to that most unpredictable of emotions, knowing it would send Goyle Sr. into one of his tailspinning rages that the obese lout was perfectly capable of achieving all on his own. More often than not, Greg or Aunt Hecuba got the worst end of his drunken screaming fits, and the guilt-laden terror Amy would feel in those moments were decidedly not worth it.
The only two times she'd allowed herself to get properly angry was when the bastard - in a pique of one of his violent temper tantrums - had struck her beloved aunt and her big brother with his meaty fists whilst yelling all manner of obscenities. Her accidental magic - feeling rather intentional in those heated moments - had zeroed in and slammed into the bastard, physically picking him up and hurling him repeatedly into the wall until he'd bled and blacked out from the pain.
Goyle Sr. had grown content with just screaming his lungs out and throwing things about since then.
Suddenly Amy's entire expression crumpled, deflating in defeat as the older boy hugged her shaking form.
"Oh Greg," she wailed. "What am I going to do?! I'm supposed to have dinner with Sr., Auntie, and Lord Nott tonight! How the hell am I going to get through that?!" Greg rubbed soothing circles on her back, much like he always did when they were younger and the other pureblood children were too afraid to play with her.
"Don't worry Amy, I have an idea." And at that declaration, a series of firm knocks sounded on the door, startling the girl. Her surprise was further compounded when Greg said "Come in!"
The door slowly opened…to reveal Draco Malfoy!
Amy sputtered indignantly, before turning to glare at a slightly red Greg. "You told him?! Before me?!"
Heir Malfoy snorted, looking genuinely amused. "Worry not Wilkes. I phoned a friend." He gestured to the shadows behind him to reveal his guest.
Greg and Amy's eyes widened in tandem at who appeared, both feeling an inexplicable chill race down their backs at this most unexpected turn of events.
Hogsmeade Square, 7:11PM
The inaugural S.P.A.A.M and P.A.C. Halloween/Samhain event (affectionately dubbed 'Hallowhain' by some of the more enthusiastic muggleborns) was in full-swing, filling the ill-used town square with sounds of mostly laughter and merriment.
Marking the east and west boundaries of the square was the High Street, home to the most popular businesses in Hogsmeade. In the spirit of the festivities (and with a little convincing from Lord Gaunt), the owners had decorated their storefronts with Halloween and Samhain-themed adornments. Zonko's, for instance, featured a massive luminescent Jack O'Lantern, charmed to juggle several smaller Jack O'Lanterns as a troupe of enchanted skeletons danced a merry jig on the roof. The other stores had opted for more modest options of glowing pumpkins and bat-shaped faerie lights, with Scrivenshaft's featuring a charmed scarecrow furiously writing on a glowing orange parchment with a massive Eagle Owl quill.
Smack dab in the middle of the square was a massive wooden platform on a slightly raised dais, which would serve as the stage for the mumming performance scheduled for 8:00PM. A four-tiered pew (enough to seat a hundred) cradled its sides and front, providing an unobscured view of the stage. The play to be performed was The Tale of the Three Brothers, perfectly suited for the night's theme.
A small tented area contained a bountiful buffet of soups and stews, along with traditional colcannon, barmbrack, and a massive vat of wassail kept perfectly warm thanks to Heating Charms. To everyone's surprise (especially Ron and Ginny who were moreso flabbergasted), the food had been provided by Molly Weasley, hired as a caterer by the Youth Liaison Program! It seemed Lady Gaunt had somehow succeeded in convincing the Weasley matriarch in selling her delicious creations to interested parties, working with her to trademark a business called 'Molly's Magical Morsels'. The witch had already fulfilled fifteen custom orders for the ladies in her Tea-Time Club, with a backlog of almost twenty more.
Adjacent to the buffet was an area featuring chairs and tables set up around a large bonfire, allowing the assembled guests to comfortably mingle. There were almost eighty students in attendance; half of them members of their respective clubs, the other half curious students who were eager to see what the fuss was about. The success of the event would determine which club they'd sign up for. The students who hadn't attended were currently in Hogwarts, enjoying Hermione's suggestion of a horror film night.
"Blimey Luna, is that one of Professor Trelawney's crystal balls?" Dennis Creevey - dressed as Indiana Jones - gestured amusedly towards the blonde. Luna spookily waved her fingers in front of the orb in response to the Hufflepuff's question, causing him to snort out a laugh. She, Eurus, and Padma were dressed as the Weird Sisters from Macbeth, bearing artfully matted hair, shorn black cloaks with heavy cowls, pallid skin, hook noses, and enough warts to give a Knockturn Alley hag a run for her knuts.
They weren't the only ones outfitted in costumes.
Almost all members of S.P.A.A.M were in character. Jim donned a large Gryffindor Lion headdress, charmed to roar when its tail was pulled. Ron was a Chudley Cannon superfan, which required little effort on his end. Quite a few other students (like Angelina, Ginny, and even Cormac despite club allegiances) were dressed in some form of Quidditch regalia, which naturally led to some spirited discussion regarding the current season, favorite players, and other such topics.
The Hufflepuff faction (minus Zachariah Smith) had opted for a muggle superhero theme all thanks to Justin's enthusiastic convincing. He had opted for Batman, using Volubilis Potion to make his voice sound low and gravelly. Kevin was The Flash, with Susan as Wonder Woman and Hannah (due to her love of Herbology) choosing Poison Ivy.
The Silver Trio and Hermione had decided on a Star Wars theme, with Harry as Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hermione as Princess Leia, Blaise as Darth Vader, and Theo as Chewbacca. Harry and Blaise had succeeded in convincing Lily to charm two wooden staffs into lightsabers for several impromptu battles, much to the amusement of their friends and the muggleborns who understood the reference. The ex-Nott was especially relieved to have picked the Chewbacca option, pleased for the warmth of the charmed Wookiee fur and the relative anonymity it provided.
There was only so much of Neville's furious glares he could take in a given day.
The Longbottom Heir was currently huddled around a table with key members of P.A.C., eschewing a costume for a simple gray floor-length wool coat. Cedric, Zachariah, and Oliver donned similar attire, fitting since they would be the actors of the mummer's play.
In fact, a considerable number of P.A.C had decided against costumes altogether, opting for dark and luxurious traveling cloaks in lieu of fanciful costumes. Many thought the entire idea 'too muggle', and therefore the exact antithesis of what they were hoping to accomplish with this event. A perpetually sneering Druscilla had made a major stink about S.P.A.A.M's "utterly ridiculous garb", though not loud enough to have garner the attention of Professors Evans, Hagrid, Hooch, and Snape, all four of whom were serving as the event's chaperones.
Druscilla was even less inclined to garner Draco's attention, one of the few exceptions who'd opted to dress up as "a long-lost relative". Heir Malfoy strutted about swathed in a thick and luxurious lynx-lined cloak, a richly embroidered crimson doublet, a bejeweled gold collar, topped with a velvet Tudor-style cap adorned with animated dragon-themed brooches. Hermione thought it curious that Heir Malfoy was dressed as a 16th century English nobleman, while Penelope Clearwater (in a corpse bride getup) wondered why on earth the blonde pureblood was dressed identically to the muggle boy-king Edward VI!
A boisterous laugh from Rubeus broke the reverie, causing those in S.P.A.A.M to smile at the man's enthusiasm whilst certain members of P.A.C frowned in thinly veiled disgust. Zachariah, Marietta, and her stooges had spent a considerable time sneering rudely and whispering behind the man's back, before a look from Professor Snape stopped them in their tracks. The half-giant was currently entertaining a coterie of excited students around the bonfire with tales from his Mastery years, sharing a riveting tale of his Apprenticeship with Edwardus Lima as the two traversed through Arizona to catch sight of a thunderbird.
"I must say, this is an excellent event you all put together! 'Hallowhain', an utter delight!" Bilton Bilmes' enthusiasm was infectious, causing Lily to chuckle good-naturedly. As the current proprietor of Zonko's, the vibrantly dressed man was in his element, delighting in the plethora of "dynamic drapery!" worn by the various students. He'd already made a mental list of costumes he planned to sell in his store for the following Hallowhain, along with the 'alterations' he would inevitably make to maximize their humor factor.
"Thank you, Bilton." Snape's tone was surprisingly magnanimous, the complete opposite to the grumbling he'd done earlier. For some absurd reason, he'd allowed Lily to convince him to dress up, an act he found most insipid.
But alas, he could never say no to his sister-in-all-but-blood, and, admittedly, his 'Great and Powerful Oz' costume was both debonair and appropriately Slytherin. Equally fitting, considering Lily had opted for a Dorothy costume (minus Toto). In line with her Slytherin loyalties were two red ribbons wrapped around her pigtails, shimmying about like silken snakes.
Coral snakes to be exact.
Madame Hooch had been amused and told Lily as such, before moving on to chat with Charity Burbage and Edrea Fawley, both of whom were representing the Liaison Program. The CFO and Sr. Curriculum Consultant of the Program looked rather chummy with each other, their body language and matching cloak pins was highly suggestive of a more-than-colleagues camaraderie. Lily was relieved Madame Milburga had been a no-show, not really in the mood to deal with the woman's infuriatingly unique brand of 'constructive criticism'.
Apparently, there'd been an infestation of magically enhanced cockroaches, termites, and flesh flies, all wreaking absolute havoc in the sanctuary of her school. While the wards on the building proper were to prevent such creatures from entering the edifice, they proved little effective against the creatures if they were snuck in. The etiquette school would need to be shut down for the bulk of November for fumigation and a realtering of the wards to prevent such a thing from ever happening again. A disappointed Libra had been forced to relocate her first of many baby shower celebrations, relocating to Tom's private flat in Flemings Mayfair with her Beauxbatons friends.
Shaking off those thoughts Lily sipped on her wassail as she listened to Bilton excitedly ramble on, the curled ends of his thick mustache practically quivering in delight.
"It's all so perfect! What could possibly go wrong?"
Unseen to Bilton, Blaise Zabini heard his later statement, eyes narrowed behind his Darth Vader mask.
'Bloody hell, do these idiots live to tempt the gods of irony?!'
Hogwarts, 7:31PM
The hum of excitement was palpable in the ancient castle, as the remaining students not in Hogsmeade were enjoying their own version of 'Hallowhain'.
Those in the mood for a classic horror flick were gathered in the Great Hall to watch Nosferatu, magically streamed through Lily's special movie projector. Those interested in a more modern slasher were in the Astronomy Tower, watching Child's Play through Professor Snape's special movie projector (an identical copy gifted to him by Lily for his 21st birthday). The few remaining students were in their dallying about in the Common Rooms.
Fred and George (costumed to look like Professor McGonagall) were of the lattermost group, huddled in a Silenced corner as they added their finishing touches to their prototype batches of candies they called Skiving Snackboxes. Their entire purpose was to transform its consumer's appearance, causing enough of a distraction to be sent to the Hospital Wing. Once out of class, the transformation would last for a few more minutes before reverting.
There were other prototypes called 'Seriously Skiving Snackboxes', but today was not the day to try out Fainting Fancies, Fever Fudge, Nosebleed Nougats, and Puking Pastilles. They already owed Frump a week of detention yet to be fulfilled, and they were in no mood to add to another.
"You ready Forge?"
"Just about Gred. Where should we venture first?"
"Not the Great Hall. Flint and Rossum are supervising and they'll probably chew our heads off. I've got a great head, and this bloody Minerva bun took forever to magick right." George self-consciously checked his coif, causing Fred to snicker. They soon finished their task, placing the boxes into an animated Jack O'Lantern with an Undetectable Extension Charm.
Ambling out of the Common Room the two Lions checked the Map, before trekking to the Astronomy Tower. They arrived about ten minutes later, finding the room almost full with Housemates across all years and a large snack buffet provided by the elves. Almost everyone was huddled in groups cuddled within fluffy blankets, eagerly (or apprehensively) watched a murderous ginger doll chasing after a screaming woman with a massive kitchen knife. The muggleborns familiar with the film and its concept explained it to the amazed Purebloods and wizard-raised Halfbloods, assuring them the Toymaker was not involved with its creation.
Near the back of the room and closest to the entrance were Frump and Professor Sinistra, the former (dressed as a hook-handed pirate) shamelessly flirting with the latter (who giggled like a schoolgirl). Spotting the Twins, the Caretaker stared for a few intensely unblinking moments, enough to make George unconsciously gulp.
Another beat passed…before he nodded once and gestured to the students as Aurora stared curiously at the exchange.
Sighing in relief, Gred and Forge adjusted their matching McGonagall glasses and put on their best salesman faces, hoping the ever-mercurial Frump didn't change his mind and assign them to a lifelong worth of detention.
Madam Rosmerta's, 7:53PM
The four assembled guests in the Private Dining Room 2 all quietly ate their meal. As always, Goyle Sr. devoured his roast chicken with a keen gusto, though he was making considerable more effort to be restrained in front of his guest. For his part, Lord Nott made stilted attempts at conversation with Amy, moreso talking at her than attempting to engage as her any kind of equal. It was for the best, considering Amy was fighting to keep a placid expression and not vomit the paltry little she'd been able to ingest.
Risking a look at the odious man, Amy bit back a shiver at the smile the man sent her way.
Thoughts of the man's Death Eater exploits flittered through her mind, causing a bout of bile to bubble up her chest. Unbidden, she ran a hand over her headband, a beautiful silver rendition of a saw-scaled viper. It'd been given to her by Harry (Draco's surprise guest) who'd received it from his mother. According to Potter it would allow the two Slytherins to "keep an eye" on Amy whilst in Nott's presence. If Nott threatened her in any way (which included kidnapping), a voice command of "Strike!" from her would stave off Nott and allow her to escape.
By her side was Lady Goyle, who was doing a considerably better job hiding her disgust and fury, though that was purely a consequence of experience.
Gregory was a monster.
There was no other way to describe it. Never in the almost five decades of their marriage had she thought her husband capable of doing something so heinous.
'Me and my foolish optimism.' Hecuba's expression wrinkled infinitesimally before smoothing before anyone could catch it.
Her husband had always been greedy and shortsighted, but no more than the average Noble Heir of similar breeding. She'd been betrothed to the boy in her Sixth Year, expected to marry upon graduating from Hogwarts. Her father Declan had arranged the whole thing with then Aldric Lord Goyle, a means for the Common House McLaggen to claw its way into a potential Nobledom and a Wizengamot Seat. The expectation had been for Aldric to advocate for House McLaggen to then Hephaestus Lord Malfoy drawing from their decades' long friendship.
Unfortunately, it wasn't enough.
If Hecuba had been given a choice in the matter, she would have preferred to be courted by Tom Riddle. She'd nursed a crush on the uncommonly handsome boy since their Second Year, frustrated at the attention he'd paid plain old Myrtle Warren and bullying the girl as a result. While she'd matured past that childish pettiness and even apologized to Myrtle, her attraction to Tom had grown stronger as the years progressed. He'd transformed in their Fourth Year, exuding a quiet and alluring power that made a young Hecuba swoon. She wasn't the only one; almost every girl in Hogwarts found Tom irresistibly gorgeous and charmingly debonair, though he only seemed to pay any serious attention to Cassiopeia Black after poor Myrtle's death.
But despite his many talents, the Tom Riddle of that era was still an impoverished mudblood, and thus not suitable for marriage with any pureblood.
The irony of that miscalculation still stung.
Valentine Lovegood had been another, and he had been kind. A gentle and sweet soul, Hecuba knew she would have been happy with him, genuinely so.
But the Lovegoods - like the McLaggens - were a Common House, and thus would equivocate a lateral move.
Graduation had soon been followed by marriage to Gregory. A painfully disappointing wedding night later, Hecuba had been pleased to have conceived - a male heir no less.
Wacian Goyle had been everything a pureblood parent could hope for in a son, her pride and joy. Keenly intelligent, charming, and an innate ability to draw people to him. Hecuba hadn't been surprised when he'd Sorted into Slytherin, and she was certain great things would come from him. Wacian had been drawn to politics and academia from the beginning, and with his position as Heir to a Noble House, he could easily have both. Upon graduation, he delayed taking over the Goyle Lordship to pursue three Masteries.
He'd perished in the explosion that had killed Cantankerous Jr. Lord Nott in 1971, credited as an assassination to Cecile Ambrose, the Dark Lord McAvity's lieutenant.
Hecuba hadn't left her bed for almost a month, feeling as though part of her very soul had been ripped from her body.
The second son Xavier had been born three years after his elder brother, a quiet, shy, and reserved soul. He'd also Sorted into Slytherin, though Hecuba was certain he'd belonged in Ravenclaw like she had been. He'd never really fit in, too different from his Housemates and finding their pureblood bigotry too repulsive to try to forge any meaningful connections.
But, he was still flesh and thus not immune to attraction and love.
Even in the form of a muggleborn wizard named Samson Copper (Hufflepuff, Class of 1967).
They'd kept their relationship secret, planning to run away to Paris once both saved up enough to leave England. Neither Hecuba nor her husband had known of Xavier's attraction nor the object of his affection, only finding out in a letter their son had addressed to them on 16 November 1974.
He died in the Dark Lord's raid in Kenmare two days later, risking his life to help Samson and his family escape the Ghosts of Silesia.
None had survived.
Discovering news of her son's murder had been a breaking point; poor Ripley (their house elf) had found his Lady with her wrists slit in her bathtub, sobbing in blind grief as she'd attempted to end her life.
Clotilde - born five years after Xavier - had been her beacon, Sorted into Slytherin like her brothers before. She'd developed a close friendship with Lucius Malfoy and Hecuba had hoped against all hope that a marriage contract would be born from that connection. Lucius was a gentleman and her daughter would have known kindness and peace in her relationship. But the younger Malfoy had fallen in true love with Christina Fenwick, and Greg Sr. had attempted to forge an unwanted marriage contract to the distinctly repulsive Tyrell Gibbon - a Pureblood some twenty years her senior. She'd been able to escape to Johannesburg with Lucius' help, cutting off all ties to her maiden family.
Hecuba still sent her birthday and Yule cards, and as always, they went unanswered.
Lady Goyle had been irrevocably changed after those traumatic events, growing to loathe the very concept of pureblood bigotry and hating that she'd ever believed in the 'truth' of the Dark Lord.
It'd cost her everything and those she held dearest in the world.
Sadly, those events had changed Gregory Sr. too. He'd always been a glutton, but he'd possessed some joie de vivre that made him more…jolly than off-putting. Rage and violence had become the only languages he understood, with Confundus and avoidance the only responses Hecuba had become capable of giving. She'd bravely taken his temper and his fists, doing what she could to shield her son and daughter from the man's increasingly unhinged ire.
When she'd birthed Greg in 1980 she'd sworn on the blood of her foremothers that she'd do whatever it took to ensure he'd grow to live a full life. She'd made the same promise to Amy when the babe had been, admittedly, foisted upon them by Lucius in his capacity as their liege lord. She wouldn't lose little Amy like she'd lost her beloved Clotilde.
But now, it seemed that history was repeating itself.
Lord Goyle was trying to destroy her children's lives.
That would not be allowed to stand.
Hogsmeade Square, 8:03PM
Cho (standing proudly behind a podium stage-left) patiently waited for the polite applause to cease, internally quite chuffed at the reception. From her vantage in the foremost pew Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes as Justin teasingly nudged her. Ginny wasn't far behind, arms crossed and expression blank.
"Thank you all for your presence and that most warm reception." Her voice confidently rang out with the aid of a Sonorous. "As previously mentioned, one of the main reasons we started this club was to demonstrate that magicals are a society with our own rich customs and history, and we deserve to have those customs and history respected just as much as… anyone raised among Muggles." Some members of S.P.A.A.M didn't appreciate her tone, but sensibly kept silent. "One such tradition is Samhain, an ancient Celtic pagan rite meant to commemorate the end of harvest season and the beginning of winter. It's been rightfully celebrated by our wizarding forebears for generations, before the advent of the Statute of Secrecy marked its declining influence and inevitable transformation into its more…commercialized Halloween counterpart in the muggle world."
The disdain, while much more subtle, wasn't hard to miss for those clever enough to catch it.
"Samhain's mystic and ritualistic aspects signify the boundary between our mortal world and… the Otherworld becoming thinner, allowing for the spirits of the Great Beyond to easily traverse into ours. While today isn't truly Samhain, we can still celebrate with a traditional Mummer's Play, to properly venerate this sacred holiday in the manner it was truly intended. Today's performance will be The Tale of the Three Brothers, believed to be the true story of the Peverell brothers Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotius, a Noble pureblood house that has since died out. A pity really." She shook her head forlornly. "Join me in bringing their story to life." With an elegant flourish of her wand - 12 ½ inch elm with dragon heartstring - and gestured towards the stage, bringing the previously invisible set - a gurgling river and dense forest foliage - to come to life.
Though it pained them to admit it, Harry, Hermione, and Lily were very impressed by the impeccable Charms and Transfiguration spells it took to create such an effect.
Cho gestured to Neville, Cedric, Oliver, and Zachariah to assume their positions.
"Three brothers, traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight reached a deep treacherous river where anyone who attempted to swim or wade would drown. Learned in the magical arts, the brothers conjured a bridge with their wands and proceeded to cross." Cedric, Neville, and Oliver waved their wands, causing a beautifully wrought stone bridge to appear. Impressed murmuring sounded out.
"Halfway through the bridge, a hooded figure stood before them. The figure was the enraged spirit of Death, cheated of his due. Death cunningly pretended to congratulate them and proceeds to award them with gifts of their own choosing." Zachariah - in his ink black Death robes appeared, pointing menacingly at the three boys.
As the enraptured audience enjoyed the spellbinding production, Luna was more focused on a different kind of show happening right in front of her.
Seated in the proceeding row below and about three seats over was Blaise, who was sat next to Theo, Harry, Justin, Susan, and Penelope. Despite his blank expression, the boy's nargles - resembling shroud-like muskrills - were in serious distress, spinning on their axes and flashing red instead of their usual cool blue.
As though they were alarmed.
Several wrackspurts bobbed around the astral creatures, clearly agitating them. As with all others not affected by the Ultimate Sanction, the spiky pink wrackspurts were content to float on by, all staticy and annoying.
"The eldest brother traveled to a village where a wizard whom he had quarreled lived. He sought out a duel and fought the wizard using the wand, instantly killing the latter. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the eldest brother walked to an inn not far from the dueling site and spent the night there. Taken by his conscience and lust of the Elder Wand's power, the eldest brother boasted of this wand gifted by Death and his own invincibility."
'Oh my,' thought Luna, eyes lightly widening as Zabini's wrackspurts doubled at that statement, sending his nargles into a tizzy. The mention of the Elder Wand had clearly inspired some form of nervous panic, though Zabini's face remained tranquil. The blonde was impressed by that feat of Occlumency. Pulling her gaze from that disturbing sight Luna turned to the stage, hoping to distract herself with the admittedly entertaining production.
Twenty-Two Minutes Later…
"Death searched for the youngest brother as years passed but never succeeded. It was only when the third brother reached a great age, he took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. Greeting Death as an old friend, Death said unto him-"
"MORSMORDRE!"
A sound like rushing lightning reverberated all around, before five distinct flashes of sickly white light raced towards the sky.
The lights converged into one pulsing ball, coalescing then stretching into a diabolic face of a skeletal spectral white wolf. Its eyes were milky white as though blind, though focusing on either orb felt as though one were staring into the face of Evile itself. The shape of the full moon in the backdrop (the Hunter's Moon) made the image all the more ominous given the blatant symbolism.
Drawing a deep breath, the white wolf opened its ephemeral maw wide and howled - the sound Great-and-Hellish. That action immediately activated its anti-apparition and anti-portkey effects, rendering anyone within a fifteen-mile radius incapable of entrance or escape.
The presence of the fiendish image caused a foreboding sense of inexplicable fear to lick at the edges of its victims' consciousness, the feeling of something… Savage-and-Wild…clawing at the edges of their minds.
As though scratching to get in.
With the Wolf-Fear starting to permeate, so did the terror-stricken screaming.
Sheer utter chaos.
Falling to her knees as her head began to pound in earnest, Luna barely registered a horrified Eurus wrap her arm around her whilst unholstering her wand in preparation for an inevitable offense. Hannah Abbott and Colin Creevey were equally horrified, though the former mimicked Eurus and unholstered her wand.
"Luna! Luna, answer me! LUNA!" Eurus was grateful for her shields, else she'd have been crying in fear and panic.
The blonde clutched at her head as she began to rock back and forth, not realizing that her nose and eyes were weeping. Amidst the enraged howling in her mind...
Like three…
Or six…
Or nine warped canine voices...
Luna faintly registered the panicked calls of her name.
"Bloody hell Lovegood, what the HELL is going on?!" Hannah's reedy voice was on the verge of tears whilst Eurus looked horrified with worry.
With unfocused eyes Luna looked straight upwards towards the Dark Mark, startling her friends with the sight of her blood-smeared nose and leaking eyes as she pointed directly at the spectral wolf:
"Something wicked this way comes."
AN 1: Luna's fit has to do with upcoming temporal shenanigans and less so with the Dark Mark. Fitting she ends the scene with the infamous quote befitting her costume.
AN 2: I aged up the elder Goyles significantly, to keep in line with the timeline established in Books 1 & 2. Unlike in PoS, Clotilde in AD is Greg Sr. and Hecuba's daughter.
AN 3: Dressing up like McGonagall is something I can easily see the Twins doing, especially on a non-Halloween day.
AN 4: Casting-wise, I'm thinking Alan Cumming for Bilton Bilmes. We'll see again.