October 31st presented no laughs. No fake screams. Oh yes, they were real. The Carrows had a rather crooked way of celebrating Halloween.
One could tolerate the feast. So long as you avoided touching the live insects crawling around your plate. Or---what is that foul scent of that bloodied, meaty slab? The flesh of what creatures? An organ rather human-like . . .
Skip to the dessert. Luckily high-end, pureblood-worthy sweets and treats adorned inside glinting, lit-up jars.
The Halloween of 1997 was the first celebration where students couldn't wait to retire to the common room. Even before curfew. The poor, unfortunate souls on their slower feet found themselves thrown into the air by the pinky toe. Screams had echoed about the corridor, subduing the cackles behind.
Under the imperius curse, some students even chased each other with daggers in their hands. Aiming them towards the wall, as a Carrow directed somebody else to narrowly miss impact. Pulses increased. Sweat ran down the frightened children. All for the laughter of the deranged siblings.
Younglings huddled near their prefects in their common rooms, praying their peers' agony ended soon.
Severus paced in his office. He had skipped the feast altogether. He could not bear to witness the cruelty, the pleads of mercy to his presence. The loathing glares from the older students.
He must allow the Carrows to have their fun. Bellatrix's gossip, or rather assumptions about him, spread to every Death Eater.
He must tolerate the screams.
For the greater good.
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Each house started their own Halloween celebration. Leftover treats pocketed from the feast, punch either brewed or bought last Hogsmeade weekend. And of course, Slytherin partied freely.
But for the others, it was more lament than party. Dim candles in dark corners. Shades drawn over every common room window. Stuffing scarves, old socks---anything they could fit into the window crevices which might signal common room activity to the outside.
One could imagine the old times instead. Whispering in the dark, giggling softly well-past midnight. And in a way, it was a fun method of celebration. The suspense it took to carefully set a glass down, to keep a whole crowd on board with hushes and silent moves of Wizard Chess.
Unifying. Connecting more than ever before.
D.A. members slowly migrated towards one of the Gryffindors in the common room. Luna and Niamh spread out on the floor, observing the lion cubs painted across the ceiling. The skylight, the twinkling stars peeking in.
Niamh's chest rose up and down as she calmed her breaths. The D.A. had spared a few meetings after they recruited her back. And during that time, Luna eased her public affection for her again. The effort was nice. To have someone to relate to, to chat without a strained, cautious tone.
That wasn't to say all accepted.
Ginny stepped into the middle. "I think we should celebrate Halloween Dumbledore's way."
"That isn't exactly what Dumbledore would do . . ." Cho started.
"At this point, any form of harmless rebellion is Dumbledore's way." Shrugging, Seamus glanced shamelessly at them all. "Felicity, you got it?"
Niamh held up the vial, nodding.
They carefully lined up single-file at the common room exit. One by one, they slipped out. Immediately sliding against the wall. Palms running along the surfaces, feeling for portraits or clanging metals of display armor.
The Fat Lady's head dropped further along the frame, followed by a brief loud snore.
They snuck down towards the Muggle studies classroom. Everyone listened for Mrs. Norris's meows, or Filch himself. "Lumos." A wall illuminated right before them. Niamh stumbled back with Neville, as they had almost smacked into it.
No portraits, no decor. Solid bare stone.
Niamh handed Neville her vial. He uncapped it, dipping his wand into the narrow container. His wand rose out, soon drying of the transparent liquid.
Wand alight, he hovered it against the wall. Motioning with curls and twists.
His arm dropped. He stood back.
After a moment, the words appeared in amber incandescence. Almost as if floating above the stone surface, with a three-dimensional volume to each letter.
𝔻𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕕𝕠𝕣𝕖'𝕤 𝔸𝕣𝕞𝕪, 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘.
He glanced at Niamh. Luna smiled at her, then faced the wall.
Neville held his wand parallel to the wall. "Azulis."
His message reformed into a turquoise hue, like a tropical evening ocean.
"Very useful," Cormac retorted. Arms crossed, he wandered his attention towards the other walls, as if awaiting anything else exciting.
"Hey, who said we can't enjoy simple fun?" Countered Seamus. "Potion dyes aren't exactly easy to find."
Niamh rolled her eyes. Simple fun. Inexpensive inventions. What an argument.
After writing their own messages throughout the castle (nobody dared graffiti in Slytherin proximity) Niamh readied her alight wand across Ravenclaw tower. The dye danced above the tip of her wand, awaiting to write:
𝑇𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒---
A green strip of flames crawled up the wall.
"Better have a lucky-potion on you!" Alecto's echo cackled.
Before the professors fully arrived, the D.A. broke into a run. Glancing behind one another, tugging their lagging peers.
Niamh felt around in her pockets. A small teardrop-shaped vial rolled beneath her pulsing fingertips. As a matter of fact, I do.
An old potion. Not freshly brewed, nor bought---the vial she tried to return to Severus years ago. Her first Occlumency lesson. Weeks after Cedric's death.
He told her to keep it until she no longer needed luck. But she wouldn't use it now, despite.
"Stupefy!" Green spells lit up the dark, soaring over their heads. A portrait swore.
"Split up to your common rooms," Luna whispered among them.
"Sleep with your wands beneath your pillow!"
"Longbottom, is that you?" Alecto jeered. Another spell flew his hair upward.
He glanced to the side, but dared not look back. "Go!"
"Won't you show your pretty face, boy? Or are you all too much of a coward now?"
Everybody ducked their faces. Those who wore sweatshirts flipped their hoods up.
Niamh, Luna, and the Ravenclaws detoured up a spare exit stairway to backtrack to their tower.
Latching the locks, they rushed towards the window. Obscuring the moon with the drapes. Niamh lit a candle.
She swept to her lab table, where everything laid exactly as she had left it. Occamy eggshells quartered along the wooden board. A dropper with one drop of Veritaserum. And her cauldron, lightly dusted in ground dragon claws, and glistening at the bottom with Foxglove nectar.
Luna scraped the shells inside. Igniting the flame, Niamh hovered over her potions notepad. The calculations, reactions, and chemical laws jumbled in her view. She held the candle above it, swirling a glass of dragon claw-dusted water. She tipped it above her lips, and swallowed.
"Don't you have a free period to do this before Muggle studies?" Luna yawned, stirring Niamh's cauldron counter-clockwise.
Another swallow of water. "Can't eliminate Dark Arts," Niamh warned. "Especially since your class immediately follows mine." Watching Luna, a relieving yawn stretched Niamh's mouth. "Bloody hell, I'm sure the label read Hungarian Horntail."
Luna inspected Niamh's glass storage jar. The black nail curved into a perfect semi-circle, jagged at the tips. "Oh, it is. A healthy one as well." She sighed. "I think nothing will work because your body needs rest," Luna explained. "You're making a brain-power boost potion, not a prescription ingredient."
Niamh set her empty glass down. She pushed her hair back, murmuring a quick incantation. The flames goldened more. "Almost got it . . . Luna, go take my sleeping draught. I'll be fine the next hour." The D.A.'s concerns swam through her head.
"But is it safe? Finding that one ingredient that cancels out molecular Veritaserum has stumped you for weeks. But an hour? How can you be sure in so little time?"
Niamh peered over her cauldron. The ground claws dissolved into a thin, semi-transparent grey nectar. The other ingredients circled in the center. "With the time we have, it'll have to be safe."
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Tension froze everyone to their seats. Of course, it always did now. But last night might've lingered the sweet scent of fear into Amycus's nostrils.
"I do hope you've persuaded me," Professor Carrow said. He carefully stepped down each aisle. Eyes briefly falling on each sheet of parchment, laid squarely in the right corner of each desk. "As a Blood Traitor, I'd require essay references as to convince me as to why the Unforgivables should have been legalized long ago."
"Isn't it obvious? People bypassed Magical Law Enforcement. 19th-century Aurors practiced weak spells. And because of their incompetence, the lack of proper punishment, our blood dilutes."
"20 points to Slytherin! Thank you, Vincent." As he said Crabbe's first name with utmost respect, a smug smile curved the Professor's lips.
Amycus moved down the row. "Longbottom? Have you any wisdom to share?"
His jaw leveled. Palm spread on his essay, part of the parchment crinkled in his grasp.
"Or did you indulge in the forbidden territory?" Amycus dropped a palm on Neville's desk. He peered over each and every one of the students. They seemed to shrink backward in their seats. "Would those of you who participated in last night's chaos . . ." Amycus leaned forward, his gaze dark. "Rise?"
Nobody moved.
Taxidermied bodies hung along the ceiling. Preserved Muggles wrapped in their own clothing. Special mummification potions and spells depicted the terrified expression the moment they died. Mouths drawn out, eyes rolled to the back of their heads.
Sweat clammed Niamh's robes to her body. Not of fear, but absolute revulsion. The Boy Who Lived missed the true evils of the Dark Lord's regime. A sight no child should see. Human skulls dangled overhead.
A sight none should see.
And despite, Luna stated Hagrid will teach it for Care of Magical Creatures. Lest the 'unknown' occur to him.
She dreaded the upcoming Dark Arts unit: Converting animals to inferi.
Converting stuffed Muggles to inferi.
"Miss Felicity?"
Niamh hacked into her elbow. When she looked up, a yellowish liquid strung from her lip. "Forgive me, sir, I'm rather unwell---"
A smirk twisted his lips. His eyes rose to the inhumane display. "Then the magic is working finely, Miss Felicity. I admit, it takes such some getting used to---filthy creatures Muggles are, aren't they?"
She gagged, holding back another vomit. She had to get out of this place. Everyone did. "Please, may I see Madame Pomfrey?"
Professor Carrow caressed his wand. "Then answer me now: did you, and who, write treason all over our walls?"
Niamh glared at him, her face reddening as her stomach withstood the agony of the sights. Her hairline prickled more than ever, igniting the scab in internal flame. Her mouth remained closed.
Amycus turned straight to Neville. Before his wand even aimed straight, the incantations flew out. "Legilimens."
Neville squinted, but his eyelids fluttered against an invisible force. He could not shut them.
"Legilimens!" Amycus gritted his teeth, thrusting his hand forward. His knuckles whitened.
Again, Neville squinted, this time smacking the back of his chair.
But the Carrow lowered his wand. Once-slick hair scruffed about his head.
The Carrows were no Legilimens.
But it was only a matter of time before they practiced enough to gain mediocre skill.
"I've a solution for you, Mudblood," he turned to Niamh. "Did you fall asleep during my lectures, or did you recall the therapeutic effects of the Cruciatus curse?"
Niamh said nothing.
He swept up to her. "Crucio Longbottom. Feel the power, the satisfaction that it entails."
Niamh stood up. She held her wand straight at Neville.
She willed with all her might, all her struggle, that bemused her most in one class last year. The skill she never truly mastered save for the few.
The weakness Severus knew.
Imperio.
Neville's eyes focused on hers. He rose from his seat.
Slowly, he arched his back forwards, twisting his waist an inch. His mouth parted, eyes fixated on hers.
Amycus crossed his arms.
Niamh flicked her gaze to the Professor, then back to Neville.
Exaggerate it! Please. Scream as you would beneath Voldemort, she willed. Imperio!
Small gasps and groans escaped Neville's throat. Suddenly, a searing shudder trembled his body violently. Neck snapping backward.
"Felicity, stop!"
"You're a monster! You know that, a monster! Traitor!"
She infused Severus's mechanism. Blurring the screams into something of the past, something not of her doing.
Neville rose up in the air, clawing at his arms, his neck, his face---as she had done. Red scratches lined his flesh beneath each nail. Cracked, strained rasps puffed into the classroom.
Niamh dropped her wand. Her chest rose and fell, sweat beading her temple.
Neville sank into his seat, holding onto the edge as hot tears soaked his parchment.
"Good," praised Carrow. "Pity you're a Mudblood. You could torture souls on the streets without a trace."
Niamh gazed straight back at the professor, still panting with parted lips.
The class resumed with dangerous tension now. Every time the professor turned his back, Niamh expected someone to hit her with a pocket-dagger.
When the bell rang, she darted to the door. At his dismissal, she burst into the corridor. The others followed behind, withdrawing their wands as soon as the door slammed shut.
"Crucio!"
"Impedimenta! Crucio!"
"Avada Ked---"
"STOP!"
Neville's voice boomed strong and clear. Niamh spun around, Cormac's hand pressing her throat to the wall. He squeezed. Her chin lifted in a whimper.
"So now we've succumbed to the Dark Lord's will?" Neville remarked. "This is what he feeds on! Death, pain, blood!"
Half of the wands turned to him. Some quavered, as their faces contorted into confusion. "She's literally Snape's accomplice!"
"Emergency D.A. meeting." Neville rubbed his fake galleon. "Now."
The crowd charged up the stairs. Slowing down wherever the Carrow quarters came in vicinity. If any other professor, nobody bothered. McGonagall, Flitwick, all of them came to expect their poor students fleeing something morbid.
Heaving her books, Luna wandered in from another corridor. Ginny at her side.
Niamh's neck craned to glance at her, as Cormac dug his nail into her throat as they hurried into the Room of Requirement.
"Felicity's cunning."
"You got that right---"
Neville held up a palm. "She's innocent."
"I mean," said Cho, examining Neville, "you don't exactly sound crucioed."
"I never was."
Cormac released her neck. Niamh rubbed it, as if letting her trachea unknot itself.
"What what?" Luna murmured. Her eyes wandered over them all. She braided a stray lock of white hair over her cheek.
After filling in the other members on the basic Dark Arts lesson, Neville paused for breath. He ran a palm through his sweaty hair. He smiled warmly at Niamh. "Mind continuing the story?"
"I nonverbally imperiused him. Just lightly making him stand and stretching his mouth a fair bit. The spasmodic movements and screams came from his own will." Niamh smiled at Neville. "You imitated torture well. Carrow actually thought I silently crucioed you!"
A weak smile crossed his face. Mouths parted at Niamh.
"For now," Neville said quietly. "But we have another problem arising."
"All it takes is Veritaserum," Niamh pointed out. "Carrow was seconds away from discovering the D.A.. Including all who involved in the rebellion from graffiti to defense schemes.
"With Luna's assistance, I've concocted a form of Occlumency," she continued. "For everyone."
She lifted up a liter-sized vial of a transparent, green liquid. She held up a thick dropper. "This is a training potion." Luna stepped out across from her. She gazed steady, her hands at her sides. Niamh plopped down the large vial. She raised her wand to her best friend.
"Legilimens!"
Seconds later, Luna flicked her eyes to the D.A. She rubbed them.
"As you saw, I could see a bit into Luna's mind." Niamh dipped her dropper into the potion. Green fluids rose up inside to the top. Luna took it, then swished it in her cheeks.
"Legilimens!"
Luna swayed back. Her pupils dilated against her crisp oceanic irises.
Niamh lowered her wand. "It took much more effort. I scarcely saw a fleeting blur."
Spit.
The nearest wall bulged. A sink had conjured in the Room of Requirement. Luna scooped a stream of water against her lips, and washed out her mouth.
Niamh reddened in embarrassment.
Cho's smile succumbed to a slight curl of disgust, despite the kindness Niamh sought for. Her eyes fell by her feet. "And why do you have a basket of . . . bezoars?"
"Health and safety backup," Luna stated, returning towards them. She stood by Niamh's side. "Are any of you familiar with mouthwash?"
"Yeah. Somewhere in Muggle Studies a few years back," Cormac said. "Instead of a potion or spell, Muggles would swish breath-refresheners in their mouth."
Niamh smiled. "Exactly. Think of my potion as cleansing your mind instead . . . so long as it's there, no Legilimens or serum can chance itself. Careful, though. No swallowing. It's poisonous ingested."
Seamus sighed. "Sorry, Felicity, but uh, how's that supposed to help? We can't exactly walk around the Carrows with our cheeks puffed."
"Precisely why I called it a training potion. It was the most I could come up with---I need more research and possibly graduate-level studies to invent a true, safe Occlumency serum."
The D.A. gathered all the beanbags they could find; in nooks, stored in empty bookshelves---and rolled them snug along the wall in a semi-circle. Niamh divided her creation in a vial for each. In the center, the basket of bezoars rested. "While you wait for Luna and I, I want you to practice flowing with the mental cleansing it gives you."
Everyone took a swig of the concoction. Spearmint, peppermint, and a hint of rosemary perfumed the atmosphere. Chilly scents relaxed her nostrils. Even her mind eased without it. An interesting find she noted in a magical neuroscience chapter once. Refreshing stimuli indeed provided a natural cleansing response.
Niamh pointed her wand at Cho. Luna was preparing Neville, as Niamh had taught her a bit of Legilimency. "Ready?"
Cho's dark eyes gazed back. She nodded.
"Legilimens!"
Laughter, remarks echoed through the blurs. Silhouettes shaped into recognizable peers and students. Some, not so much. Niamh pressed further. Her fingers curled and tightened about her wand's girth. The ridges of her skin rubbed the Cedarwood.
Cho's chin rolled her tongue within, her forehead furrowing.
Niamh withdrew the spell.
Cho rushed to the sink, green froth spitting from her mouth. She waved a wand, cleansing her lips.
"Is um," she paused, smacking her lips together, "it normal to feel pressure on my brain? Physical pressure?"
Niamh nodded, humming her answer.
"You did well for your first attempt, Cho. More practice, and I'll just see empty space."
She assisted a few others. Yet, Niamh subconsciously found herself ending the spells early.
She did not like the way their tongues pressed against their chins.
"Legilimens!"
Seamus gagged. His eyes rolled back to his head. Green froth dribbled down his chin.
Niamh dropped her wand. She dived down, grabbing a bezoar. Seamus's throat swelled, his skin greening up about his veins. He brought a palm around his throat---
"Stop! That's what poison wants you to do! Don't choke your---"
He squeezed harder.
Niamh shoved her fist into his mouth. By the jaw, she bent him over, smacking his back. Froth drooled onto the floor. She shoved the bezoar deep into his mouth, then slammed it shut. With a dripping hand, she held his shoulder. Her eyes followed his dilated, glazed ones. "Breathe," she instructed.
"No," she clamped his lips shut. "Through your nose." He watched her, his body quivering. His chest labored sharply.
"Nia---Felicity, we're running low on bezoars!" Luna hollered. Ginny laid tipped back in her beanbag, her hair splayed out onto the floor. She held Ginny's deep forest green forehead with both palms. Greener than the Wicked Witch of the West.
Niamh's eyes widened. Sweat slipped her calms from Seamus's mouth. It parted again. Green marbled below his jaw. "How could you run out on one person?"
Neville rushed between them. "She just kept swallowing them, I think---"
Niamh's eyes flicked to Seamus. "Breathe." She took his hand and aligned his fingers around his mouth. She swept towards Ginny. She reached out, strings of green drool flopping from her fingers.
She drew back. "Luna, they're not working because---just close her mouth!" She waved her hands in defeat.
Luna pressed against Ginny's jaw. The green lightened.
At a glance behind her, she found Neville calmly holding Seamus's mouth. His neck re-tinted with original hues.
Closing her eyes, Niamh inhaled, then exhaled. Her lips parted, then closed. "For a bezoar to react the healing process, it cannot be exposed to air. Closing the mouth is essential. Otherwise, no amount of bezoars will spare an ounce of antidote."
Thank goodness she loved potions. For the love of Merin!
Niamh sank into a spare beanbag. The beads rolled beneath her, fitting safe and snug. She pushed back a stray asphodel in her hair. Two bezoars kept each other company in the basket. The other members craned their necks in their seats, as if really trying to admire the towering pillars that held the Room.
Water splashed distantly; Seamus, Ginny---whoever, washed their faces and hands of the froth.
Her wand still lay exposed across the rug. Flames tugged at the torches, as if maintaining the auras in spite.
Neville scooted next to her. He took her hand in his. He too, simply observed the books, the little decorative trinkets and training manakins, the candles hidden in every nook.
"Yeah. We're not trying that again." No edge laced Cormac's voice now. He sat with pointed knees. Merely exhaustion.
Niamh uncapped the leftover potion swirling along the bottom. She retrieved her wand, then sat back down again. "Evanesco."