The late summer's melting away to end in heavy rain of the darker season all too soon.

And the closer we get to the last day of October, the louder I can hear them.

Voices.

The green blood of your ancestors is in your veins also – you will always be like them …

Lies. Polemics.
Doubts whether these are polemical lies …

Their madness is your fate, you already knew that …

Throughout the last few days, I was able to pause, take a deep breath and dismiss it as intrusive thoughts. I kissed Harper, played with fire, I didn't listen.

But I can't ignore them anymore tonight.

Legends hold that the gate to the other world is wide open during Halloween – or Samhain. Historians are still not sure to what extent Celtic mythology actually overlaps with the Roman folklore that flowed into early Catholicism, but ultimately, it hardly matters.
The veil between my demons and me is getting thinner with each hour passing, it feels just like those five times in the Chamber of Secrets where I tried to split my soul.

I feel the warmth of hell's flames, within and all around me. A burning sensation that becomes more intense in my core with fading daylight. My pain memory recalls what inevitably caused cracks in my soul.

Almost like during new moon, throwing me into King's Cross limbus again to haunt me.

You don't belong in the light …

So while everyone around me is having a good time with the Halloween feast, dressing up to take part in traditions of hiding from the other world – I feel the darkness.

In every shadow, in every whisper. I feel the temptation and all my sins pounding in my head.

Historical writings claim that one must appease the other side to survive the dark season. That faces should be covered so that evil cannot see them …

But how would I hide my face from something I've already actively sought? How could I blind the abyss I was already staring into?

You cannot – there is no escape …

"You're not well," Harper whispers as the first students finally leave the Great Hall after the feast with us, we both follow the corridor. "You haven't been well for days, but it's getting worse tonight. I was hoping …" She gulps in frustration and doesn't even finish her sentence.

"I know," I wanly reply. "Don't worry, I –"

"Of course I worry!" she hisses. "That's why I'll keep an eye on you in the tower."

"The tower?" I ask, annoyingly breathless.

"It's Ravenclaw's turn to host a celebration in secret, remember? No one will notice us, we'll find us a quiet corner."

You're dragging her into your abyss, sooner or later …

I'm probably so pale that she feels obliged to pause.

"Tom, can you even hear me?"

The very next moment she suddenly pulls me into a niche in the corridors, away from the swarms of students, to look at me with wide eyes. "You've been out of it all evening long! Since sunset … It's getting more intense." She touches my forehead, then says, "You're burning up. And yet you're as white as a sheet. In the library I couldn't find anything about Samhain and the effects of contact with dark magic, but I –"

"Me neither. There's nothing documented about it."

She quickly nods. "We need to stay together in any case, Tom. You can't be alone …"

I hear her words, but I don't understand their meaning.

You don't know love, so how could you love her?

Too much chaos in my head. Too much screaming.

"Tom?"

"What?"

She tilts her head all worried, sighing. "Is it that bad already?"

I simply admit, "I hear voices, that's all."

Lies, lies, lies …

She suggests in useless hope, "Echidna in the pipes?"

"No," I answer. "Voices from further down …"

"The veil is thin," she whispers in awe. "Do you really believe the portal is open?"

Tonight is the night …

"I was in contact with the underworld, Harper. Apparently, it doesn't just let go."

Never again …

"And what if you talk to Dumbledore?" She shrugs anxiously. "Maybe he knows –"

"Definitely not …" I force myself to give her a joyless smile. "He has no experience in that, no matter how knowledgable he may be."

"But –"

"It's fine," I claim and concentrate on fighting the shrieking sounds in my head. "Don't worry. I'll join you later, alright?"

"What? Why?" She glares at me in disbelief. "What exactly do you wish to do without me in your condition?"

And how far will you get?

"I have to be with Echidna," I lie.

She sternly shakes her head. "You're lying. Don't take me for a fool!"

"Tell Hornby not to investigate again when I enter your tower's heaven at night."

You don't belong there, it's more than wrong …

She's crossing her arms over her chest as if I hadn't just tried to distract from the topic. "Tom, why seek advice from him of all people? Didn't you hear what he's said to Queenie about No-Majs? He's scum!"

Of course she knows what I have in mind …

"Harp, he's the only one to have come into contact with occult magic of that kind. I am –"

You are like him, maybe even worse …

I briefly close my eyes until I crack my tense neck from left to right.

She looks at me reproachfully. "What? What are you, talk on …"

"Aware. I am aware that it's not ideal and spontaneous –"

"Tom!" she whispers.

"I'm at my wits' end already," I hiss. "It's well before midnight and already I'd rather give myself a lobotomy than –"

"I'm coming with you."

You always mean danger …

"Oh no," I moan. "You won't."

"Hell yes, I –"

"Darling, you're not helping me!"

Nobody can help you …

"Please," I hear myself groan, "head to the tower and don't get a scare when I lie down next to you in the middle of the night. Alright?"

"Tom, come on," she urges. "You're excluding me again, I wish to help …"

Nobody can help you …

"I know," I assure her. "But you can't."

Alone – as always …

She knows she can't hold me – so she shakes her head defiantly, holding my gaze.

But where I'm going, she can't come with me.

I take her to the tower without saying another word, then I go my own way.

As secretive as ever, pursued by whispering that gets louder and louder with every step I take away from Hogwarts, I feel like my head is about to explode.

It's as if dementors are around me that can't touch me yet, and still their claws pierce into my mind.
After my rituals, it feels like I can't possibly survive the first Samhain night without going mad.

After the warnings to that effect, I'd increasingly felt that they were going to be right, but none of the books that fell into my hands could provide anything remotely useful.

So I have to find someone who is …

As I reach Hogsmeade, the narrow streets are deserted. Dim lights radiate out of the pubs, but my destination is the post office. I need a fireplace …

"Mr Tadpole?" I ask as if I was being strangled, glaring into the back of his small space, but he is not the only one answering me.

After him, Albus Dumbledore steps out to the counter, mischievously pointing to the bowl of Floo powder to his right.

"Travelling at this late hour, Tom? Where are you going?"

I groan. He of all people, how can anyone be so out of luck?

"You don't look well," Dumbledore finds. "Shall we go?"

"Shall we go?" I repeat, whispering. "We are certainly not going to go anywhere together, sir!"

"Don't be so upset, you can hardly stand."

My journey here was indeed more exhausting than I wish to admit …

"You wanted to see Vivian," Dumbledore assumes. "To find out where he is, right?"

"Professor, tonight I really don't have the patience for a –"

"A detour?" He nods in glorious arrogance. "Good thing I spoke to her last night, and found out where we should go. We don't need the fireplace, Tom. We're apparating straight to Austria."

"You wish to see him?" I ask, taken aback. "With me?"

"That is worded much too euphemistically," he claims. "But I've feared for weeks you'd be close to madness tonight. When the witching hour strikes, you'll need a little … let's say, support. I don't enjoy this lesson of yours – but that is, in fact, what you get from playing with hellfire …"

Mr Tadpole looks quite concerned, eventually heading back into the warehouse as though he was suddenly terribly busy, but I just lean on the counter, shaking, to grumble at Dumbledore, "He'll be mad to see you."

"I doubt that. He won't be surprised."

"He may think that I've split my soul."

"Do you truly believe that?" He quietly laughs. "He's playing with you, but trust I won't correct him. The state of your soul is irrelevant to the effects you're already feeling. You are mortal, however … Contact with deep black magic brings its risks. And consequences. Samhain is the one time of the year that's most charged. I spent a night like this with him once …" He becomes seemingly thoughtful, then he sighs almost in amusement. "I bet he's expecting us. And is excited for company, since he also hardly feels well around this time of year." He winks. "A sorrow shared is a sorrow halved, as they say. So come, Tom."

"The blood pact –"

"The blood pact is safe." He lowers his voice as he adds, "My phoenix is probably making friends with your basilisk as we speak, with this piece of jewelry around its neck."

I'm about to forget myself. "If you bird dares to even as much as touch her –"

"I wouldn't have thought you'd feel so passionate about a pet, Tom." He smiles. "Does he know about your family situation?"

"He figured it out thanks to the prophecy, just like you did."

"I see, that was to be expected. And I gather he suspects you sympathize with him? More than with me?"

"Of course he does …"

"Good." Dumbledore nods. "Let's go then. Have you ever been to Nurmengard? It's beautiful at this time of year." He takes a deep breath, staring into the distance for a moment, as if memories were passing before his inner eye. "Even if we'll only see it at night."