Lily Evans (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lilium_evansiae) wrote2011-07-08 09:47 pm
lilium_evansiae) wrote2011-07-08 09:47 pm
Hallowe'en 1976
It has been what must be considered a perfectly lovely weekend. And even the prospect of having to return to classes in the morning can't dim anyone's good mood this evening.
It's time for the annual Hallowe'en feast.
The Great Hall is, of course, decorated fantastically, with great swooping clouds of fluttering bats, flaming orange streamers that twist and wind their way around the ceiling in ever-changing patterns, and jack-o-lanterns. Dozens and dozens of jack-o-lanterns, bobbing above the four House tables, candles flickering atmospherically.
The first years sitting just down the table from them stare around, wide-eyed and gaping, nudging each other to point out this detail or that. Lily smiles, remembering when the Great Hall was not only impressive but new, and things like Hallowe'en were times to be wonderstruck.
She turns to Mary, sitting next to her, the only other Muggleborn Gryffindor girl in their year. "That used to be us, you know," she says, nodding towards the younger students.
Mary doesn't answer. She's busy staring, wide-eyed and gaping, at the carved pumpkin bobbing in front of them.
"Mary?" Lily says. "Everything all right?"
"Look," Mary says. "Look at the pumpkin."
Lily looks up, briefly, and turns back to Mary, "Yes, I know, it's ... "
And then her brain catches up with her eyes, and she looks back up at the glowing, candle-illuminated face that is unmistakeably Professor McGonagall, carved into an orange squash.
"Oh ... my ... "
Lily turns quickly to look at the other pumpkins. From where she's sitting, she can make out Flitwick (slowly revolving, a few yards away and just above Cliona and Fenton), and Slughorn (slightly off-kilter, floating above the Hufflepuff behind her), and even Grindstaff (scowling down on the first years, looking not at all amused about having been rendered in squash).
"It's the professors," Lily says. "They're all ... they're all the professors."
"I know," Mary says.
A pumpkin carved to look like Dumbledore goes careening cheerfully down the length of the table, and the other pumpkins move respectfully out of the headmaster's way.
Mary and Lily look at each other for a moment, and then they start to laugh.
Maybe Hallowe'en still has a little wonder to strike after all.
It's time for the annual Hallowe'en feast.
The Great Hall is, of course, decorated fantastically, with great swooping clouds of fluttering bats, flaming orange streamers that twist and wind their way around the ceiling in ever-changing patterns, and jack-o-lanterns. Dozens and dozens of jack-o-lanterns, bobbing above the four House tables, candles flickering atmospherically.
The first years sitting just down the table from them stare around, wide-eyed and gaping, nudging each other to point out this detail or that. Lily smiles, remembering when the Great Hall was not only impressive but new, and things like Hallowe'en were times to be wonderstruck.
She turns to Mary, sitting next to her, the only other Muggleborn Gryffindor girl in their year. "That used to be us, you know," she says, nodding towards the younger students.
Mary doesn't answer. She's busy staring, wide-eyed and gaping, at the carved pumpkin bobbing in front of them.
"Mary?" Lily says. "Everything all right?"
"Look," Mary says. "Look at the pumpkin."
Lily looks up, briefly, and turns back to Mary, "Yes, I know, it's ... "
And then her brain catches up with her eyes, and she looks back up at the glowing, candle-illuminated face that is unmistakeably Professor McGonagall, carved into an orange squash.
"Oh ... my ... "
Lily turns quickly to look at the other pumpkins. From where she's sitting, she can make out Flitwick (slowly revolving, a few yards away and just above Cliona and Fenton), and Slughorn (slightly off-kilter, floating above the Hufflepuff behind her), and even Grindstaff (scowling down on the first years, looking not at all amused about having been rendered in squash).
"It's the professors," Lily says. "They're all ... they're all the professors."
"I know," Mary says.
A pumpkin carved to look like Dumbledore goes careening cheerfully down the length of the table, and the other pumpkins move respectfully out of the headmaster's way.
Mary and Lily look at each other for a moment, and then they start to laugh.
Maybe Hallowe'en still has a little wonder to strike after all.
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There's a lot of prefectial blind-eying going on at times like that.
"Elinor thought she had dragon pox, so I was at the hospital wing with her."
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James continues to laugh — then quickly sobers.
"Oh. She's all right?" he asks.
He wouldn't have noticed whether she was at the celebrations too, or not.
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"She's fine."
Just, as usual, a bit of a walking crisis.
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That girl's got terrible timing.
"Well, that's a relief," James says. "If it's particularly contagious, imagine how many people she would've infected."
And how early the after-Quidditch party would have ended as a result.
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"Fortunately, that particular tragedy has been averted."
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All right, it sounds a little ridiculous.
But imagine what the rest of the school would say about that.
Gryffindor would be a laughing stock!
And they can't have that.
"Well, you missed quite a party, anyway."
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"Well, if Elinor has a crisis after your next thrilling victory ... Remus can deal with it.
"Can't you, Remus?"
It would be his turn.
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He nods. Quietly.
James shakes his head.
"Oh, no. We'll just ... hand her off to Blane. He's Head Boy. It's the sort of thing he should take care of in the event of Important Gryffindor Functions."
"So says the Captain?" Remus puts in.
"Exactly."
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"But you get to be the one to tell Cliona.
"Captain."
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"You two are horrible."
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"I should probably get back to my seat before the feast gets started. But brilliant work with the pumpkins, all of you," she says, looking over at Black and Pettigrew, who have been almost unnaturally quiet.
Her smile shifts a little, gets softer, when she looks back to James. "And I guess we'll talk soon about plans for next weekend, yeah?"
They have a date to go on, after all.
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Merlin's beard, they do.
James nods, his heart suddenly beating just a little faster in his chest.
"Right, yeah," he says, offering her a smile that more or less reflects hers.
(Be cool, Potter.)
"We'll absolutely talk soon."
The rest of the boys smile or nod (or in Sirius' case, waves a hand airily).
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She smiles one last time (mostly at James), and makes it back to her seat just as Professor Dumbledore stands to welcome them all to the feast.
(Perfecting timing -- it makes it impossible for her roommates to ask what she's been talking about with James ... at least for a few minutes.)
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"Greetings, greetings. And a Happy Halloween to one and all. I'd first like to thank everyone who has helped to make the Great Hall look so festive...."
Credit where it is due, after all.