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All Hallow’s Eve (part 1)
(DISCLAIMER: We’re going way off the canon path here, kiddos.)
Orion hadn’t heard from Artemis in weeks. He wanted to be thrilled, but he knew better than to trust himself. He wondered if he’d ever be fully at ease in his own head, or how long it would be before the little worm of guilt allowed him to call the head his own. He sat on a window ledge outside the Great Hall at early morning, waiting for his friends and thinking. He found it less and less pleasant to have time to himself lately: the longer he was alone and the longer he thought, the more he found gaps in his memory, gaps only his Other Half had access to. The day before he’d needed the colors of the rainbow for a spell and found he couldn’t remember them. His classmates had a jolly laugh at his expense when Snape made him memorize a song of colors, then sing it aloud for the class.
“Oi, Orion!” Ron called, pulling the Slytherin from the sill and out of his thoughts. “We thought we’d get here before you for a change.”
“Have you been sleeping well?” Harry asked, clapping a hand on Orion’s shoulder as they strode toward the monumental double doors.
Orion pursed his lips. “I’ve been sleeping, but not resting, you know?”
“Yeah, I can relate,” Harry said with a sad smile.
Orion had learned a lot about Harry in the last weeks, specifically the three Gryffindors’ annual exploits and the possible return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
He’s a regular King Arthur, Orion thought. A boy with a great destiny. He wished he could tell his friends about his own adventures, but even he knew raving about other dimensions and fairies with time-stop technology and demons living on the moon would result in a one-way ticket to the loony bin.
The four children walked towards the closed doors of the Hall without breaking stride and the doors swung open on their hinges without being touched: though today, they did so with an unearthly groan. Orion jumped, and his friends grinned.
“I love Halloween,” Hermione said, stretching her arms over her head.
Black candles floated in clusters above the tables in the Great Hall, their wax surprisingly not dripping on the bright orange tablecloths below. The rafters were swathed in giant, real cobwebs, and a giant jack-o-lantern loomed in the middle of the ceiling, leering at the students as they entered.
Orion grinned back, his initial skittishness forgotten. He’d never had a real Halloween. Artemis wasn’t one for the season.
The children were feasting on caramel apples, spiced oatmeal, and pumpkin milk when the ghosts came into the hall, descending through the ceiling and phasing through walls.
“Do they not have ghosts at Ilvermorny School?” Hermione asked, noticing Orion’s open fascination.
“Erm, no,” he recovered. “Haven’t been around long enough, I suppose. Do they have to die in the school to be ghosts here?”
“I sure hope not!” Ron said through a mouth full of pumpkin muffin. Hermione glared at him, and he shrugged. “If so, where do the ghosts get their mounts for the Headless Hunt? Did the horses all die with their masters?”
“Or do they have to wait around for the horses to die?” Harry cut in.
“How many headless men couldn’t be in the hunt for lack of steed?” Ron asked, pointing at Harry with a fork.
Harry laughed. “Maybe it started off as a Headless Jog.”
“The two of you, really,” Hermione chastised. “A lot of them do,” she told Orion. “Or at least, they all have a strong connection to Hogwarts.”
“And unfinished business,” Ron added, wiggling his fingers under his chin and baring his teeth.
“What’s the Headless Hunt?” Orion laughed.
“A gaggle of really old men on their high horses boasting about not having a good head on their shoulders.” Nearly Headless Nick sulked. He phased between Ron and Harry, and the chill he brought on prompted them to make room for him on the table bench. “Now me, I may not be completely headless, but at least I have a head!” He said the last part loudly, so a group of men a good deal shorter than they should be, heads tucked under their arms, could hear.
“He’s talking about Lord Valeron,” Ron whispered behind his hand. “He lost his head, literally. His head was misplaced before his burial. But he’s still able to take part in the Hunt. No one knows how.”
“I know how! It’s prejudice!” Nick bewailed. “He can’t use his head for Nogglin’ Rolling, or Cranium Volleyball! They only like him because he’s mysterious.”
“He is pretty mysterious,” Hermione said, resting her chin on her fist as she watched the only truly headless man on the outskirts of the group, fixing cufflinks he couldn’t have known had come askew.
Orion felt a stirring in his mind, a cold, familiar itch that made his stomach turn.
“It’s rumored that his head knows such terrible secrets it’s been buried separate from his body somewhere on the Hogwarts estate,” Ron said in hushed tones, “and that he searches for it still.”
“Ahh! He’s bewitched you as well!” Nick wailed. He swung an arm to bang the table, but his arm fell right through. “But I’ll have the last laugh,” he told them, leaning in conspiratorially. “Because I know where Lord Valeron’s head lies.”
Ron and Hermione made faces of awe, though it was evident they didn’t believe him, while Harry shook his head. But someone did believe the beleaguered specter.
‘Ask him if he wants his head completely removed.’