Chapter 32: Samhain Rituals
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31 October 1991, Hogwarts
Before he could tease her further, Gemma Farley, the Slytherin fifth year prefect girl spoke up, "First years, I know that things are tense, but this is still Samhain and the ritual is ready. For those that wish to undergo the crest unlocking ceremony, please follow me." Oh, yeah, he had forgotten about this because of the troll mess.
Harry was too distracted by the possibility of his friend dying to remember that the Crest activation ceremony was today. He had re-read the family magics book about half a dozen times to make sure that he didn't miss anything. Oh, Harry was sure that his classmates had no idea how it worked, certainly less than him at least, but Harry didn't like that the knowledge he found was imprecise, having been translated using a charm and thus had a lot of grammar mistakes and nonsensical sentences.
Even with all his preparations, Harry was still nervous about the ritual. The results were varied, even with people in the same family, but what everyone said was that it was a life-changing experience and that they were fundamentally different because of it. It was that unpredictability that caused Harry to be wary. He would wake up the following day as a different person altogether.
Harry didn't seem to be the only first-year who seemed to be nervous. Everyone seemed to be shaken in some way. Harry's friends looked very pale walking behind Gemma Farley. Even Malfoy, who had proudly announced his superiority because of his family, was practically shaking in fear.
It was probably because he never attended a ritual before. For the crest activation to work, a high amount of ambient foreign magic must be in the body, and an easy way to do that was to participate in one of the rites rituals, and then unlock the crest afterwards. However, before the age of eleven, children were not allowed to attend these rituals because of the chaotic nature of their magic. This was everyone's first ritual and so, even before activating the crest, they had to go through the Samhain rites.
The prefect seemed to have noticed their unease and gave them a soft smile, "Don't worry. Everything is going to be fine."
A few people relaxed but Harry was still apprehensive about the task ahead. He followed Gemma down the stairs. However, the prefect stopped halfway there and pressed a particular brick, "No one is allowed to enter these rooms without the Court's express permission. These rooms are the secondary ritual rooms that are available to the public, but still with the Court's permission of course, and can only be used for the standard rites, like Samhain, Beltane and so on. Should you be lucky enough to join the Court when you're older, you will be allowed to enter the private ritual rooms to do what you wish. The Samhain ritual has been prepared for you, but you will need to learn and perform them yourselves if you wish to participate in another one. Oh, and one final thing, do not tell anyone about these rooms. Dumbledore practically made the old rites illegal, and we don't need some fanatic muggleborn to try to get them banned because it's 'barbaric'. This is a Slytherin house secret. If you break it, you will be punished severely. Do you understand?"
The speech was enrapturing, and Gemma was far different from the way she presented herself on the first day. She was very severe and was practically threatening them into secrecy, although Harry could understand why. Children were children, and he could see Draco prancing about bragging about the fact that Slytherin had ritual rooms to Longbottom in an attempt to make the boy who lived, jealous.
The prefect's face softened at the collective affirmation, "Good. Now, go get ready for the ritual. We have taken the luxury of giving you ritual robes to wear, as well as the customary masks to do so. They will be in your changing rooms. You will find your name written on them. These are provided to you by the seventh year students, the same way you will be required to provide a robe to the first years when you're their age. You have ten minutes to change and come here after which I will escort you to the ritual. You will not wear anything but your robes. So, leave your wands, jewellery, or even underwear in the changing room."
Oh, ritual robes. Harry sort of forgot about them. They were clothes that were designed to be magically inert, so as to not interfere with the ritual. It was a nifty anecdote that people who couldn't afford them had to be naked when participating in a ritual, which thankfully wasn't the case then.
Harry and his classmates went into the changing rooms where he found a piece of parchment with his name on it on top of some black robes. From the look of them, they looked more like what he expected traditional wizarding robes to be. They were barely more than sheets of fabric with sleeves, but Harry knew differently. There was something fundamentally magical about them. Honestly, to his magical hearing, the robes sounded like a tuning fork. They were inert without any drums or melody, but the biggest issue was how they interacted with the environment.
Ambient magic seemed to glide off it. Nothing was truly inert in the world. There were reactions between magic, between songs, and Harry could hear them. But for some reason, the ambient magic seemed to glide off it. Oh, there was probably a limit, and too much direct magic could overwhelm the properties on the robes, but it was a very curious artefact, nonetheless.
The young Potter changed and put his wand with his clothes. He left the changing room with nothing on him but the ritual robes. He was met by the others on the way out. Everyone seemed to have a different ritual robe or at least a style of robes. Harry did look like he had the most basic ones because Blaise's were blue with a few ornaments there. But Malfoy's robe was green with snakes all over it that looked like they were alive. The blonde gave Harry a smug look. The last Potter rolled his eyes; that boy really was extremely spoilt.
When they rejoined Gemma, and he raised an eyebrow at the girls' robes. They looked more like dresses than ritual robes. Gemma, herself, was there, wearing a robe, but also with masks in her hands. They looked green and neutral, and she handed them up in silence.
Harry nodded at her and brought the mask on his head, only to feel it shape itself around his face. He looked around and saw that it was very hard to distinguish his classmates from one another – outside their gender that it.
Gemma then spoke up, "Good. Now, from now on we will not speak until the sun rises. A word of advice, do not resist the magic. It will hurt if you do. Come on let's go."
The first years then followed the prefect to what must have been the ritual room. The marble ground was cold to their naked feet. They walked up a flight of stairs and finally arrived at their destination.
It was obviously an old room illuminated only by candles that surrounded a large stone. That stone was covered in runes that Harry had never seen before. The first years followed the participants by surrounding the stone in question. When all of the first years entered the room, the door closed and merged into the wall.
The entire room was silent, both magically and in real life. Slowly, a strange woman wearing a red robe walked towards the altar at the bottom of the stone and brought a pure white rabbit in front of it. She looked around raised her hand grabbed the ritual knife that was next to the altar and stabbed the small animal in the heart.
The woman quickly returned to her place in the circle. Honestly, Harry would have been horrified by the sheer cruelty of killing such an innocent animal, but suddenly the runes started to glow and the candles' fire dimmed. Harry could feel it, the magic. He could hear it. It was one of the most beautiful and terrible things he had ever heard in his life.
It wasn't just magic. It was something different, something more. What Harry heard couldn't be called a song. It had an extra dimension or perhaps even several extra dimensions to it. Harry did his best to try to understand it but to no avail. It was mournful yet happy, angry yet sad, it was familiar in a way that he couldn't explain. It was the veil of death that was becoming nothing more than a curtain. He tried to look past it, feel past it, but felt a sense of alarm. If he tried to understand what should not be understood, to see past the veil, past what mortals ever see, then he would be forever changed, and not in a good way.
He stopped trying to figure the melody out but was worried by it trying to affect his own. No, that's not it. Harry's magic was completely fine, his very cells were somehow being filled by the magic of the ritual and he had to stifle a gasp as he realized what he was feeling. It felt like intense love and protection, a mother's love, a father's pride. Was this what was on the other side? Harry didn't remember his past life beyond its pitiful end. He didn't remember what happened after and that scared him.
Because Harry had defied death, he knew it, and it likely knew it as well. Samhain was the day of the dead and Harry, even if his mind didn't remember, his soul has experienced death. Harry could feel it being watched being judged. There was no one in front of him, but Harry could feel it. Someone was there looking into his very soul. Something old, something new, something familiar, Death was judging him, the man who defied it and the boy who remembered what he should not. Harry knew that at any second the being could snuff out his life, and take what is owed to it because he was alive, thus belonging to death.
And yet nothing came. The energy didn't hurt him, and the feeling of oppression vanished into welcome. Harry sagged in relief and relished the feeling of the magic in his body. And just like that, the candles brightened again, and the runes on the stone vanished.
The ritual was over, but his night still wasn't over. Harry stayed put, not knowing what to do. The older students started to leave, Gemma included, and the young Potter didn't know whether to follow her or not. Suddenly a bright light occurred from the stone blinding the young Slytherin.
But Harry didn't scream for the brightness of the light instead, he heard a burst of magic hit every single first year at once. And that was when the pain started. The spell, whatever that was, brought the magic from the ritual and pushed it towards his magical circuits. It felt like his blood had turned to fire going through his veins.
Harry could feel the light spread throughout his body, looking for something until he found it. It was very well hidden near his heart. The magic attempted to synergize with whatever it was it had found as if asking for permission. The thing returned some energy of its own, as if judging it, before letting the magic through. That was when the pain was magnified in its intensity and Harry was gritting his teeth to suppress the scream. But also, Harry noticed that the songs around him started to shift like something was also added.
The feeling continued for a few seconds, but it felt like hours. When the pain subsidized into soreness. Harry tried to walk only for the world to slowly darken. Mere seconds later, he fell down unconscious from the strain of what happened to him.
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