The Sugar Quill
Author: Lee Velviet  Story: Halloween Greetings  Chapter: Default
The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author.



Halloween Greetings


Author: Lee Velviet ( )


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters portrayed in the following, and I am making no kind of profit from it whatsoever.


(A/N: This is my first story for Sugar Quill, and my first entry into any Fan Fiction contest. In keeping with the rules, this story takes place in a common room - sort of - and might be considered as being in the ‘Most Evil Voldemort’ category. This is a bit of an H/G pairing. The lyrics quote is from an old song by The Tuesdays, called 'Gone With The Wind'. Many thanks to Zsenya for the beta reading! Your time is very much appreciated!)


Falling under the spell of souvenirs…

The line from some old song she’d once heard ran through Ginny’s head as she watched Harry sitting at one of the common room tables, chin propped on his hand. He’d been pawing through the now dog-eared book of photographs of his parents for nearly an hour, unwilling to move from his seat. Even Ron and Hermione hadn’t been successful in persuading him to join them down in the Great Hall for the beginning of the Halloween Feast.

The Gryffindor common room had been completely empty for virtually that entire hour, save for her and Harry – and to be honest, Ginny didn’t think Harry was even aware she was there. She sighed heavily, and pillowed her cheek on the back of the chair that she was using to conceal her spying.

Though it was well into Harry’s fifth year, she knew he was having difficulty letting go of the previous term’s events.

Ginny hadn’t been there to see it, but she knew it had to have been a horrifying experience, seeing poor Cedric Diggory murdered, and then from what she’d managed to get out of Ron over the summer, the brief, bittersweet reunion with the spirits of his long dead parents even as You-Know-Who was doing his best kill him.

As she continued to watch, Harry’s eyes began to close, until finally his head dropped forward to rest on his forearm, which was stretched out across the table.

Ginny stood up from her chair hesitantly, not wanting to wake him. After a long moment of studying the dark circles beneath Harry’s eyes and the lines of strain creasing his scarred forehead, she spied an old crocheted throw on the back of one of the sofas and retrieved it, sweeping it over his back as gently as she could.

As she moved away, Harry made a low sound of distress that caused a painful twinge in the center of her stomach. She returned to her chair with an aching heart, and settled down once again, compelled to watch over him as best she could.


He was home. He was at the little cottage in Godric’s Hollow.

Harry saw himself, as a baby, cradled in the crook of his father’s arm, saw his mother bent over him, allowing his chubby hands to tug at the soft fan of her long red hair as she laughed softly and made faces.

He walked right up to them, to his parents, eager to be closer – and that was when his eyes caught on the decorations. Black and orange. Pumpkins and black cats – it was Halloween.

“Mum, Dad! You have to go! Now!” He shouted at them, suddenly frightened as he’d never been before in his life, but the laughing trio seated on a blanket on the floor before the fireplace didn’t seem to be able to hear him.

“God, please let them hear me! Dad, get Mum out of here! He’s coming – Voldemort’s coming!” His panicked voice sounded muffled even to his own ears, and he could have cried in frustration.

“He’s getting so big!” He heard his father murmur as he tickled the baby under the chin.

“He should be – he eats practically all the time!” his mother responded laughingly. She tugged her hair from the baby’s small fists and reached to take him from his father – that was when his Dad froze and looked up, his gray eyes widening behind his glasses.

The ancient white porcelain door knob was turning slowly at the entrance at the other end of the room.

Harry watched in desperate frustration as his Dad shot a look at his mum.

The young couple leapt up, fear and resignation guiding their movements. Harry saw his dad press a quick kiss to his mother’s lips, and then push her in the direction of the stairs.

The door had opened – a hooded, black-robed man drifted inside, and slowly withdrew a wand.

He was going to watch his parents die…

“No!” Harry furiously threw himself at the figure, but he passed right through him, harmlessly.

“Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off - ”

Harry turned in time to see his father glance desperately across the room at his wand, which was lying useless atop the mantle.

His dad shouted a summoning spell – but he was dead before the wand ever reached him. Harry watched with wide, horrified eyes as the older, taller version of himself was suddenly engulfed in bright green light. A moment later his dad was on the floor, unmoving – his wand clattered to the floor less than a foot from him.

An eerie cackle of high-pitched laughter sounded, and his mother gave a frightened, anguished sob, and tore out of the room, her red hair swinging behind her.

The black-robed figure floated silently after her, apparently in no great hurry.

Harry sprinted past him, taking the narrow stairs three at a time, his heart ready to break out of his aching chest. He caught up with his mum just as she ran into what could only have been the nursery, and slammed the door shut, locking it.

“Oh, God, oh God, Mum,” Harry felt hot tears trickle down his cheeks as he recalled his father on the floor below, and he paced in front of the crying woman protectively as she clutched a peaceful baby Harry to her breast.

She didn’t appear to have her wand handy either.

Harry felt his heart break as he watched his mother whisper to the baby, her tears dampening the smooth pink forehead that would shortly be scarred forever.

The doorknob rattled and his mother let out a surprised shriek, stepping away as far as she could. The door flew open, and Voldemort entered, pointing the wand right at the baby.

“Not Harry, please no! Not Harry! Take me, kill me instead...please, have mercy!"

“Mum, no!” Harry shouted in fury as she turned away, placing the baby in his crib, instinctively shielding him with her body – he again tried to step between Voldemort and his victim, but he could only watch in hopeless horror as the bright flash of green light struck his mother right in the back, and she slumped to the floor.

“NO!” Harry cursed Voldemort’s approaching form with every thing he had but he kept coming, raising his wand to point it at the innocent one year old blinking up at him sleepily…

The sudden blast of green light sent him reeling, and a cold blackness enfolded him as his head began to explode in pain…


“Oh God – Harry? Harry? Please, Harry, wake up! You’re scaring me!”

Harry moaned and opened his eyes, which felt wet with tears. His head throbbed as he tried to raise it, and he felt two little, cold hands come to rest on his cheeks. “Ginny?”

“Harry!” A pair of wide, brandy-brown eyes stared into his, surrounded by a mane of red-orange curls. “Are you all right?”

Harry realized he was flat on his back on the floor, and sat up, trembling from reaction to his dream. “My parents,” was all he could manage to choke out.

Ginny took him into her small arms, and he leaned against her thankfully, resting his aching, throbbing head on her shoulder; but he didn’t close his eyes.

It would be a very long time before he ever closed them again.


Far away, in a well-hidden lair, the Dark Lord laughed in his cold, high voice, and was heard by a quivering Wormtail to whisper, “Happy Halloween, Harry.”



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