A/N: everybody, I have been blown away by the outpouring of support and love and well-wishes and I want to thank all of you so, so much xx
An extra long chapter for all of your kind, beautiful, wonderful, supportive– I seriously don't have enough words guys, just thank you for your comments, they've made my last few days <3
TWENTY-FOUR:
Hermione was practically cackling as she and Loki appeared at his beach house, turning a steadily deeper red as she wheezed unsuccessfully for breath.
"The looks on their faces!" She managed to choke out before being reduced back into gales of laughter.
Beside her, Loki was practically preening like the smug peacock he secretly was.
"They just can't deal with this much awesome," he told her sagely.
"They're going to be so confused," Hermione told him gleefully. "They definitely thought you were a muggle– now they're going to be wondering how I know a wizard and trying to figure out your accent and your blood purity. The clothes aren't going to help." Loki was wearing dark muggle jeans, boots and a printed comic book t-shirt of some American superhero with angel wings.
"I've got more magic in a drop of my blood than all three of them have in their entire body," Loki snorted. "So do you, for that matter. Also," here Loki narrowed his eyes at her, "we're going to have a little chat about you hiding things from me."
"Me? Hide something from you?" Hermione widened her eyes, blinking innocently up at him. "I would never!"
"Oh, don't you try that look on me, my Mini Miss Mischief," Loki tutted, playfully wagging a finger at her, "I had to hear from Váli about some little brat who was causing you so much trouble– Váli." He shook his head slightly, looking mildly disgusted.
"I didn't even tell Váli, I told Eris," Hermione protested. "And it wasn't anything I couldn't sort out myself– I promise. If it was more than I could handle, I would have told you, I swear," she looked earnestly up at Loki who narrowed his eyes.
"Oh no you don't – you're not escaping my wrath that easily!" He threatened.
Hermione rolled her eyes playfully before letting her expression settle into something more serious, her god's expression shifting to match. "I looked the Malfoy family up," she said quietly. "I recognised the name from the books about the war with Voldemort. It's easy enough to track them– witches and wizards are very keen on their family histories. The Malfoys are known for their success in knowing which way the wind blows and then turning their sails in that direction."
"Bad faith Malfoys," Loki said, darkly amused.
"Bad faith Malfoys," Hermione agreed. "Once it became clear to Draco Malfoy that bothering me wasn't going to be the popular thing, or in his best interest, he stopped."
"And how else are things going at Hogwarts?" Loki asked her, snapping his fingers to conjure up a large, squashy couch for them both to sink into. "It sounds like you've already got a revolution in the works."
"I've got a what in the works?" Hermione asked, puzzled. Loki looked fondly at her.
"The revolution you're starting with your friends. It's always the same with these things– once one person does it first, it's easier for the second person. Think of a riot– once one person throws a stone, or breaks a window, it's easier for the next person to do the same. From the sound of it, you've got friends in Slytherin, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, as well as being a muggleborn in Slytherin who's friends with Slytherin purebloods, and by everything I've heard, that's very uncommon."
"I wouldn't say I'm friends with Rosier, Lestrange, Marcus, Warrington and Robbards," Hermione said a bit doubtfully. "Well, maybe Marcus, but he's already sort of friends with Oliver Wood and Cedric Diggory."
"Sort of proves my point, don't you think?" Loki nudged her gently with his elbow. "If he's the one you're friendliest with and he's the one who already has friends outside of Slytherin House."
"Huh," Hermione realised.
"So what do you think of the magical world so far?" Loki asked her and Hermione gave a sort of half-shrug.
"I'm... not sure," she admitted. "It's... well, there are parts of it that are just magical," they both smiled at the pun, "but then there are parts that really, really just aren't. I love my friends and Hogwarts is brilliant and the professors are just so wonderful, except... there's just so much prejudice and discrimination in the magical world and not a lot of laws to act as protection against that prejudice and discrimination, because the ones who have the power don't want to give up that power.
"I've read a lot of history books and even the so-called 'Light' side of politics seems to mostly consist of purebloods who still hold a great deal of prejudice against so-called Dark beings– and Dark witches and wizards, for that matter. An eleven-year-old was talking in front of everyone about how the 'evil gits' get Sorted into Slytherin! And you know that's the sort of rhetoric they hear from their parents! They give themselves the moral high ground but I'm not sure it's entirely deserved. Those fighting against Voldemort's Death Eaters being the exemption, of course– his group are an extremist group of Dark purebloods and they're definitely the bad guys and anyone fighting against them can consider themselves at the very least morally better than those tossers."
Loki did not look pleased to hear about her assessment of the Magical World. In fact, the air was thick and heavy around them, tingling against her skin like the air before a thunderstorm. Dangerous. Turbulent. Powerful.
Hermione could feel Barkimedes trembling in her pocket and she carefully scooped the shrunken pup out, carefully placing him on the too-still, furious god's lap.
Animal therapy was supposed to be good for calming people down.
Loki finally blinked, his too-bright golden eyes no longer quite so otherworldly as he looked down at the shrunken three-headed dog, who was crouched down on his lap, looking up at him with three sets of panicked eyes, whining softly.
"So this is the Cerberus you were smuggling out?" he asked, reaching out to gently run the tip of his finger over the three heads. Barkimedes stopped whining and started snuffling at Loki's finger instead, the right-most head giving the finger a curious little nibble.
"Yes, it was horrible! They were keeping him locked up in a space that was much too small for him!" Hermione exclaimed with a shudder. Loki's eyes narrowed, the air shivering again with a hint of danger. Hermione felt the hairs on her arm rise up in response but ignored it, knowing there was no true danger. Not to her. Barkimedes, however, crouched down again and whimpered piteously.
"Hush, pup," Loki murmured, stroking the Cerberus again, tickling under his chins until he perked up again. "You're a bit malnourished, aren't you?" he said. "And your muscles have started to waste– you need to run."
'Run?' Barkimedes asked hopefully.
"Run," Loki confirmed. "And hunt." Barkimedes responded with an eager, hungry growl and Loki looked up from the shrunken Cerberus to Hermione with glowing approval in his eyes. "You did well, minn blótgyðiur*," he said warmly and Hermione felt her cheeks flush with pride.
"I thought maybe Hel might enjoy his company," she said shyly. "If there's any merit to the myths of Cerberus guarding the Underworld, that is."
"I think Hel will definitely enjoy having a puppy around to brighten the place up," Loki decided with a grin, leaning down to put Barkimedes on the ground, letting the still-tiny Cerberus race off, all three noses glued to the ground, paws scrabbling about as Barkimedes tried running in three different directions at once. Loki snorted and Hermione gave a little giggle as the tiny Cerberus ended up in a tangled pile of puppy. "She's always complaining that the place gets too dreary," Loki said, "I can definitely see this little guy cheering it up."
"Well," Hermione said carefully, still smiling down at Barkimedes. "It is, kind of... Hell. Sort of stands to reason it might be a bit... dreary."
"And believe me, of all the domains of Hell, Helheim's actually one of the nicer ones," Loki said dryly. "You don't even want to know what some of the other religions have come up with."
Hermione couldn't help how she immediately latched on to Loki's words. "What do you mean, the other religions?" She asked eagerly.
"I did this to myself," Loki murmured, looking a bit rueful. Hermione blushed but jutted her chin out.
"Only stupid people don't ask questions and stupid people don't interest you," she quoted and he laughed.
"Alright, alright, put your claws away– or should I say fangs, now?" he teased.
"I don't believe in pigeon-holing myself into their House stereotypes," Hermione grumbled.
"Yes, you've mentioned that once or twice," Loki said. "Or possibly in every letter you've sent home."
"You were telling me about Hell?" Hermione said pointedly. He just grinned.
"Prayer and belief," he told her, "as you well know, are very powerful. With the existence of religions came the source of the gods and goddesses' power on Earth– prayer and belief. All religions have their own ideas of what life after death is like, such as Paradise, Moksha, Gan Eden; and in a way, they are all right, but at the same time, they are all wrong. There isn't just Paradise, or Moksha, or Gan Eden– they all exist, and more. Elysium, Heaven, Tlalocan, Valhallr, Fólkvangr, Fields of Aaru, Vaikuntha, and so many others.
"All the gods carved out their own pieces of the afterlife for their followers, shaping it in their images and collecting the souls of their followers, guiding them to their specific domains. It was never altruistic of them– human souls give them power, even the souls of the dead.
"And it's the same for Hell; there's Tartarus, Helheim, Kuzimu, Naraka, Kur, Peklo, Uffern, Mictlan, Xibalba, and many, many more. The variants of the Christian and Abrahamic Heaven and Hell are the most common now, and they're the default for souls who don't have a strict religious belief otherwise, considering they've got power in numbers and a lot of the older religions don't have any living worshippers," Loki concluded.
Hermione scowled. "I'll make sure you have worshippers, even when I'm not here anymore," she vowed. Loki– froze, just for a heartbeat. She almost didn't notice, except that it was so rare for Loki to be completely still. And then he was moving again, one of his hands ruffling her hair, fingers tangling in her curls.
"I have faith in you," he said and Hermione couldn't help but beam up at him before a thought struck her.
"Loki," she said hopefully, "can I come with you, when you take Barkimedes to Helheim?"
Loki deliberated for a long moment before finally nodding. "You'll have to listen very carefully to me and do everything I tell you," he warned and Hermione nodded eagerly.
"I will! I will! I promise!" She said. "I only got to meet Queen Hel for just a moment, I really want to see her again!"
"Ah, yes, that," Loki said. "We need to have a quick conversation about that."
Hermione looked up at him, suddenly anxious. "Is– is something the matter?" she asked. "Did I do something wrong? I was just joining in the Samhain ritual the other Slytherins were doing– did I offend you? I swear, I didn't mean to! I'd never worship any god but you, Loki! You're the only–"
"Hermione! Breathe, sweetheart!" Loki interrupted her and Hermione paused to take a deep breath. "Good girl," Loki said. "Now, I'm not angry or offended or upset, I just need to warn you to be careful when doing those sorts of rituals– you are a very powerful young witch and when you open yourself up like that, you'll attract a lot of attention– and not all of it will be benign. Samhain, for example, is a very powerful demon, one of the oldest in existence. The ancient Celts worshipped him as a god, and you remember what I was saying before about prayer and belief?"
"They're powerful," Hermione said with dawning horror.
"Very powerful," Loki agreed. "Samhain is trapped in Hell now, but that doesn't mean he isn't still powerful as hell– pun fully intended– and that he doesn't still have influence on Earth, especially on Halloween when there's so much passive belief about, people going through the steps of ancient rituals without even realising what they're doing, or who it is they're strengthening."
Hermione swallowed around the lump in her throat, feeling sick. "I'll be more careful," she said softly, ashamed. "I promise."
"I know you will," Loki said, reaching forwards to gently but still firmly tip her head up so she was forced to look him in the eye. "And I told you, kitten, I'm not upset, so don't go thinking I am– we haven't talked about this before, you had no way of knowing, but now you do. And Hel told me about meeting you– she was very impressed."
"It was only a few seconds!" Hermione protested, even as she leaned into Loki's warm touch.
"And apparently you made an impression in those few seconds," Loki countered, smiling down at her. "Very respectful, very powerful, very bright, she told me. I had to warn her that she couldn't steal you."
"Nobody could ever steal me from you," Hermione said firmly.
"Of course not," Loki agreed, his grip on her chin tightening slightly– not uncomfortable, just possessive. "You're mine."
"I missed you so much," Hermione told him, leaning forwards into his grip, letting him tug her further forwards, folding her into his arms where she could bury herself in the sensation of wild burning fires and thunderstorms.
"I missed you too," Loki murmured.
And if they stayed there a while, just hugging, well, it wasn't like there was anyone around to call them out on it.
::
Hermione had time to unpack her belongings and look around before they left to take Barkimedes to Helheim. It had been nearly a term since she had last been to the beach house where her belongings that wouldn't fit at the MacLeods were kept– or in the case of the replica Rosetta Stone, were just too plain suspicious to keep with her Aunt and Uncle.
As she'd said before, 'house' was a misleading name for Loki's large, sprawling property. Though it wasn't exactly a beach house anymore, either– for winter, it had been transformed from a beach-side paradise to a winter wonderland; the pool was now a frozen outdoors ice-skating rink, the palm trees had been traded for evergreen firs dusted with snow, and the private beach bordering the ocean had also disappeared (or rather, Hermione was guessing the property itself had been relocated), replaced instead by ski slopes right outside the backdoor, so all she would have to do was slide into a pair of ski-boots and get right into a chair lift.
Her bedroom had also changed from its 'summer sky' theme; instead of the walls painted to resemble fluffy white clouds on a pale-blue summer's day, the pale-blue had been replaced by soft lavender, the twinkling lights strung across the walls and ceiling were shaped like snowflakes, and extra lavender and dove-grey puffy pillows had been added to the puffy white pillows on the puffy white duvet so that her bed, which had already resembled a large, fluffy cloud, now looked more like a storm cloud.
Hermione loved it.
After unpacking, she spent a few hours playing with Barkimedes in the snow as he slowly grew back to his normal size, Loki having warned her that after he was delivered to Helheim it was unlikely that she would ever get to see him again. Vashti had flamed over, not wanting to ride on the Hogwarts Express, and she absolutely hated the snow, though she was glad to be rid of her owl disguise. The phoenix spent the entire time nesting in the bonfire Loki snapped into existence, squawking in indignation every time Hermione threw a snowball at her, which of course only encouraged Hermione to do it more.
When Loki eventually told her they'd be leaving soon, Hermione hurried in to get changed out of her snow-drenched clothes. Knowing that she was going to be visiting a queen, she decided she should probably make an effort with her hair and used magic to twist her wild curls into loops and braids that mimicked mock-flowers encircling her head like a crown.
She then chose one of her Norse-style dresses; a forest-green overlay with white skirts underneath. The overlay had a high collar that was open to the shift beneath and there were no sleeves but rather a thin golden veil that attached to the front of the shoulder and the back of the collar to create a cape that she fastened using her Yggdrasil broaches. Even though she trusted Hel, she didn't forget Hati and Váli's lessons and wore her brown lace-up boots with their layer of steel under the sole, mostly hidden by the skirts, and made sure she had her karambit daggers strapped in their sheathes on her thighs– slits in the skirts made sure they were easily accessible.
"Look at you, pretty as a picture," Loki teased when she met him by the front door. Barkimedes was sitting next to Loki, making her god look comically small next to the gargantuan creature. All three heads were happily panting and drooling. Hermione suspected Loki had been scratching the Cerberus's belly before she'd walked in.
"I'm ready to go," she said breathlessly and Loki snorted.
"I don't think I've ever seen anyone so excited to go to Hell before," he said before reaching out with a thick piece of fabric, black and soft-looking. Hermione recognised it as the blindfold from when they travelled through time to when the Founders had just built Hogwarts and obligingly closed her eyes, letting him tie it around her head.
"Are you ready?" He murmured and Hermione swallowed, feeling nerves prick under her skin as something shivered deep within her. It was a very primal sort of fear– one that had no solid, physiological basis, but rather was driven by something entirely theological. It was a fear beyond the grasp of logic, beyond the grasp of human comprehension, and there was something quite mortally terrifying about that– and yet, Hermione could feel the heat of her god's touch, could feel how it crackled against her skin, akin to static, and with it she found she could breathe, could answer him with all honesty.
"Yes," she said, "I'm ready."
Loki wrapped her up in his arms and Hermione was grateful for it– despite asking to go to Helheim, despite being ready and fully willing, she still felt like she might be shaking in a terrified sort of anticipation if she didn't feel so safe in her god's embrace.
Hermione remembered how it had felt to travel so far back in time– which could be summed up as 'awful, horrible, no good' to say the very least. This wasn't anything like that; Loki didn't need her to pray, for one. There also wasn't that endless feeling of deprivation that culminated in that blindingly bright light that hurt even through the blindfold. Instead, her soul felt... loose, as odd as that seemed. Like it didn't quite fit properly in her body. Her bones felt oddly displaced and her skin like it might shiver right off. Considering how disgustingly strange her body felt, she wasn't sure how long it took her to notice the difference in the temperature around her.
It wasn't cold, exactly, in Helheim. The air just felt... dead. There was no wind, no weight to the world around her, she almost felt as if without Loki's hold on her she would just float away. The thought panicked her so much she grabbed onto Loki, clinging with desperate hands.
"Shh, shh, it's okay, sweetheart," he soothed her, keeping one arm wrapped securely around her waist while the other tugged the blindfold off, letting her see around them for the first time.
She wasn't sure what she was expecting from Hell. Well, if she was being honest, she was expecting fire and brimstone, but that expectation came from the Bible and she wasn't about to admit to that. Still– the Bible did give off pretty vivid imagery of eternal punishment and blazing furnaces and fiery lakes of burning sulphur and it was difficult not to imagine that, no matter how disloyal it made her feel to her god and his pantheon.
Helheim wasn't anything like that at all.
It was a cold and lifeless place, Hermione could admit. There was no hiding such a fact. But it also had a beauty to it.
They were in what looked like a glade, if the glade were dead and there was no sky, instead endless darkness. Twisted, echoes of trees the colour of bone rose from rocky ground, their roots twisting like snakes beneath their feet. The branches were embedded with pale jewels that glowed, setting the glade alight in a low, eerie light of sharp angles and shadows. Half-beautiful, half-nightmare, Hel stood beneath one of the bone-trees, dressed pale silks and furs, a startling contrast to the blood-red tumble of half her hair, the rest pale, dead wisps.
Before any of them could say anything, whether it be an introduction or a greeting, Barkimedes spoke up.
'Dizzy,' the Cerberus complained, shaking his three heads violently. Hermione shrieked as slobbery drool was shaken free from three sets of jowls, a large gloop landing on her face. Beside her, Loki swore.
"Gross! Gross! Gross!" she chanted, regretting her choice of a dress without sleeves as she had to duck down and use her skirts to wipe her face clean. Hel was laughing and the sound was musical.
"I'm going to turn that mutt into flambé," Loki growled.
"Brought Odin to his knees, only to be defeated by a mutt," a new voice, low and Slavic, sounded from behind them. Loki had her shielded in his arms before Hermione could even blink, turning them both to face the newcomer.
The god, for he could only be a god, was tall with bone-white skin, a full beard and long, pitch-black hair from which two horns curved up. He wore flowing white robes embroidered with gold and a heavy fur cloak.
"Veles," Hel said, drawing forwards so she was standing beside Loki. Her voice had lost all its earlier humour, now flat and cold. "Do not be rude to my father and his priestess in mine own kingdom."
Hermione knew that name. Veles was an old Slavic god; King of Departed Souls, associated with supernatural powers, magic and communion with spirits. He was the god who the witches and sorcerers, shamans and magicians of the old world would turn to.
"I would never," Veles responded to Hel, low and mock-offended. Hermione couldn't see Loki's face, but her god's grip on her had tightened and Hermione resisted the urge to wince.
"What are you doing here, Veles?" her god asked.
"Why, trickster, this is the Underworld– I belong here," Veles said smoothly, "a better question would be what you are doing here, though I see that you are delivering an offering to your daughter."
"Helheim is not your domain, you do not belong in my daughter's kingdom," Loki corrected sharply. "What are you doing here, Veles?" He repeated, this time with a rumbling undertone to his voice, like an echo of thunder.
Veles just smiled, apparently unbothered by the threatening display.
"Just a bit of divining I did," he said. "It told me visiting Hel now would get me what I want."
"And what is it you want, Veles?" Hel asked calmly.
"Why, to see Loki's little priestess, of course," Veles said, turning his gaze down to meet Hermione's, catching her eyes in his own, entirely inhuman one. Hermione felt trapped there; his eyes were black pupils with pale silver irises that spilled outward with no sclera.
"Rumour was that she was just another whelp of yours and that was why Odin went after her... but that isn't true at all, is it? We saw, on Autumn Dziady**, how very human she is– with your claim burning bright on her soul, Loki Liesmith. We've all been so curious... and can you blame us?"
Veles shifted forwards slightly, avarice gleaming in his endless, inhuman eyes. "Is she how you did it, then?" He asked. "All of us dying out, weakening without belief, without prayer– and then you get her, and suddenly Odin is dead. Is she how you finally got the strength to defeat him?"
Hermione, pressed back against her god, frozen in the iron-bands of his arms, felt an unmistakable push against the shields in her mind. Unlike with Professor Quirrell, this push, burning cold as ice, had her shields shatter at once and she screamed.
She couldn't describe the pain– or the violation. Jumbled images and sounds flitted past her eyes like a kaleidoscope. It was nothing like sharing her thoughts and memories with Vashti or her god. It was a defilement, a desecration of a place that should be sacred.
The greedy presence, like creeping frost invading all the folds and grooves of her brain, vanished abruptly and Hermione fell to her knees as she threw up, bile stinging her nose, acid burning her throat.
She was heaving for breath, desperate and frantic, her entire body shivering uncontrollably with the cold that had crept unwanted under her skin where only Loki's fire was welcome.
"Peace, little sister," someone was crooning, and it took Hermione several long moments to realise Hel was beside her, a Queen kneeling within her own domain to offer comfort. Hel had draped her pale furs over Hermione's shoulders and when she saw Hermione look up at her, Hel gently pulled Hermione into her arms, against her chest.
Hel's body felt... odd. Half of her was soft, giving, as a human– or near-human– body should be. The other half... Hermione could feel the hard jut, no give just solid bone. It should be disturbing. And yet somehow, it wasn't. Because Hel's hair smelt like a lightning strike, like fire and ozone, like she was her father's daughter, and Hermione leaned into the comfort even as she turned automatically, looking for Loki.
He was holding Veles by the neck, his teeth bared in a terrible rictus of rage. Barkimedes was circling them both, snarling, a terrible, deep sound, his fangs stained wet with blood. Veles' robes were torn, revealing mauled flesh that was already knitting itself back together before her eyes. Loki's power was spilling out around them, burning ozone and wildfire and thunderstorms and Hermione basked in it, could practically see the golden glow behind her eyelids.
Even captured and bleeding, Veles didn't even look perturbed, the bloody bastard. Instead, he looked smug. "You can't kill me, Liesmith," he taunted. "Not without bringing the other gods down on you. They're already nervous– you got yourself a priestess, you took out Odin, what if you're plotting against them next?"
"Odin came after me and mine first!" Loki snarled. "You harmed my priestess! You dared touch what is mine!"
"They won't believe that," Veles laughed, eerie eyes glittering. "Who would? All they see is you getting stronger, while they're getting weaker. And they want to know why. They want to know how."
Loki hissed something vicious-sounding under his breath then threw Veles away from him. The other god disappeared before he could hit the ground and Loki rushed back over to her, pulling her into his arms. Hermione finally felt the cold sunk deep into her being leech away, replaced by his heat, his fire.
"Fuck," Loki muttered, and she felt his lips press against her forehead. Then she felt nothing.
::
Gabriel looked down at Hermione's small form in his arms, her face slack and peaceful in unconsciousness, and wanted to swear.
"Faðir," Hel said, her face drawn with concern, "Faðir, she is in more danger than we realised."
"I know," he said grimly. "Puck and Eris's work isn't enough anymore. It was fine when everyone thought she was just another kid of mine, a baby goddess growing into her powers. Now they know she's so much more."
A priestess capable of fuelling their own waning powers. One who must surely be powerful, if 'Loki' had finally managed to take out Odin. It was times like this Gabriel cursed the fact he hadn't killed that bastard Odin earlier, that he'd upheld the fiction so long that 'Loki' wasn't powerful enough on his own, too much of a coward hiding from his siblings to risk using the power of an archangel to defeat the pagan god. And now he'd accidentally given Hermione a reputation amongst the gods– a reputation that maybe wasn't as unearned as he'd have hoped.
Because Hermione was powerful, even untrained as she was. She had incredible untapped potential that she was slowly beginning to discover, and with her growing potential came growing danger. There were other gods that could and happily would kill to get their hands on a way to kindle the dying embers of their powers– and from what Veles had revealed, the rumour going around was that Hermione could be that way.
He already had enough concerns, considering the political situation she had described in the insular community that made up the magical world, because of course Hermione had to belong to the group most discriminated against by the terrorist group that had attempted a hostile takeover barely a decade previous. Hermione was astute enough to be careful in the letters she sent home, but he'd read between the lines enough to know that the rhetoric that had fuelled that civil war was alive and thriving within Hogwarts' walls.
"How do I keep her safe?" He asked Hel, looking down at Hermione, so small and fragile in his arms. Her little bones were so bird-like, so breakable, her thin skin barely covering tearable veins and arteries, the tiny flutter of her heart the only thing keeping her alive.
"She's stronger than you think," Hel said, sharper than he was expecting, his daughter's voice cutting in her admonition. "She has fought monsters and gods, she defeated Geri and Freki, she slayed Muninn. She is your priestess and as she has faith in you, you too must have faith in her."
::
*minn blótgyðiur = my sacrificial priestess (Norse translation of Hermione's official title as Loki's/Gabriel's priestess)
**Dziady (pronounced 'JAH-dyh') was an ancient Slavic feast to commemorate the dead. It was held twice every year in the spring and autumn. The autumn Dziady was celebrated on the night from October 31stto November 1st. Because Veles is a Slavic god, he refers to Halloween/Samhain as Dziady.