This will be first in a series of holiday fics that take place in Hufflepuff. The next one, "A Very Puffy Christmas", will be out at some point in December (and I might right a Thanksgiving one too, where Morgan, the ambassador's daughter, forces a Thanksgiving celebration). Then a New Year's one, a Valentine's one, a St Patty's one, and a 4th of July one, in the summer (courtesy of Morgan).
So, without further ado, I present...
A PUFFY HALLOWEEN
Brimstone, moon, and Witch's fire,
Candlelight's bright spell,
Good luck shall I now acquire,
Work thy magick well.
Midnight twelve, the Witching Hour,
Bring the luck I seek.
By wax and wick now work thy power
As these words I speak.
Harming none, this spell is done.
By law of three, so mote it be!
The Great Hall had turned bright orange and brown overnight. Rose Zeller stared around at the pumpkin and bat explosion, absorbed to the point that she only noticed her books falling to the ground with the tiny corner of her mind usually reserved for treaties on Ancient Roman aqueducts.
“Move, Zeller,” growled a disgruntled looking fifth year blonde, giving her a slight push. It was just strong enough to get her started forward, legs moving jerkily. She continued on to the Hufflepuff table in a vague dreamy state. Finally reaching the table, thrown to the far right, she went to sit down, only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder.
“Zeller, your books,” reminded the blonde, steering her towards where she had dropped them.
“Oh, right…” Rose said, bending to scoop them up, stupor slowly wearing off. “Erm, thanks, Zacharias…” she murmured, turning bright pink in embarrassment. Figures, didn’t it. She just would get caught being an idiot by the cutest boy in all the school. The fact that he was only considered so by the Hufflepuff first year girls (and a few of the boys) didn’t really matter. He was still considered so by someone, and therefore this experience was mortifying.
“Whatever Zeller,” Zacharias said, shaking his head. Was everyone this dazed as a first year? He sure as hell hadn’t been! He shook his head once more and headed to the upper end of the table, where Justin Finch-Fletchley was reciting a rather obscene joke about trolls and goblins. “Come now, that isn’t even legal,” Zacharias muttered.
Rose, clutching her books to her chest, stared down at the floor as she made her way to the end of the table, the generally accepted “first year end”. She sat in her usual spot, and set her books down. Then she blinked. There was a letter lying there, addressed to her. Not so odd usually, but the owls hadn’t arrived yet.
Meet me at midnight in the North Tower. There is something I need to give to you.
It was written in a picturesque cursive script, and left unsigned by whoever had sent it. Speaking of… Rose lifted her eyes from the parchment and glanced around at those sitting near.
There was Morgan, a girl who, as self proclaimed Dueling Queen of Hufflepuff, was immediately moved to the top of the suspect list. Sandra, Prankster Queen (more of a pain in the arse than anything else) of Hufflepuff, and John Bob Tyler (he couldn’t make up his mind, but most people called him John), her “boyfriend”, were also listed up there tentatively. Otherwise, the only ones sitting at that end of the table were Skye, that Slytherin boy, and a Ravenclaw.
Her mind train stopped. A Ravenclaw and Slytherin, here voluntarily? This could not be!
But, of course, it was. Winston Adams, the Ravenclaw who was within reach, wouldn’t have sent the letter. Not only was it not his style, but Morgan would’ve sacrificed him to a demon goat. She’d already threatened him a few times.
So that the left the Slytherin. Sneaky pureblood brats probably thought it was funny to mess with the mind of a half-blood! Hold on. Narrowing her eyes, Rose looked close at the boy, a tall snake with dirty blonde hair and a rather conniving look.
“Damn, I’m out of suspects.”
“Sush-whur?” came a yawning voice from behind her. She jumped, making a loud echoing squeak. Morgan, across from her, snorted into her Trix (oatmeal transfigured into the sugary sweet cereal by Winston, as any transfigurations attempted by Morgan would likely set the table on fire).
“Slept in again, lil’ bro?” asked the Slytherin, leaning in that oh-so-cool way that Slytherins seem to be born with.
“Yehri dee oouf ai?”
“Just wondering, Rush,” said Wolf Seraphim, correctly interpreting the ‘yes I did Wolf, why’ from his badger brother.
“So, it’s orange.” This, in Morgan speak, was a typical opening for debate. As if someone was going to argue that this giant pumpkin of a room was blue or something.
No one argued with her, and she began to pout. At another time, Rose would have given in and argued against her point, simply so that Morgan wouldn’t whine throughout the day, but today… Another glance, and again, no suspects for this prank, for surely that’s what this was.
Well, that solved it.
“Do any of you know who put this here?” she asked, waving the rather inconspicuous envelope around. It really was innocent looking, a simple manila rectangle, holding inside it a scrap of parchment.
Everyone just looked at it blankly.