Harry and Fleur gently smiled at each other as they observed their exuberant daughter running around their house near the Veela enclave. Tomorrow would be a great celebration, Winter’s End, the Great Night, the Red Holiday. In the end they managed to get her to sleep and both went to their shared bed.
The next morning they were awakened by their daughter jumping on them. The whole family went to the near stream, to a place of confluence of several minor streams. With Sun’s first rays they have arrived and, in silence, they proceeded to wash themselves in the cold water. When they finished, as the sun rose higher, their daughter grabbed their hands and dragged them to the nearest pussy willow. It took them some time to gather the four branches that seemed just right. Those would be put into the four corners of their garden to protect the next harvest.
Next came a part that their daughter perhaps enjoyed the least, the spring cleaning of their house, each of them looking for something they no longer needed. They all found a trinket they wouldn’t mind getting rid of and went to the enclave’s centre. There a large pyre was being built, with both large logs and tiny kindling. And every person in the enclave added one thing from their home to that pyre. Next to it, a group of Veelas were preparing an effigy, dressing it in a white dress and ribbons, decorating it with a necklace of beads made from emptied eggs.
The children’s favourite part came next since the young men of the enclave came with their arms full of young willows twigs, all long and springy. Every person proceeded to grab one and what can only be described as a free-for-all descended on the Enclave. From the smallest child to the most venerable of Priestesses, everyone tried to give every other person’s behind at least one good thwack with the willow twig. Cheers and laughter erupted around the enclave as the great Spring Chase happened. Grudges, dignity, all was forgotten in this ancient rite of rejuvenation. Eventually, the women and children departed to their homes while the menfolk gathered the twigs in the best condition and each man started braiding them into a springy willow whip. They then put a few colourful ribbons at one end and held the other. When they were finished, the men followed their wives, girlfriends or mothers and sisters.
Harry entered his home to hear his giddy daughter giggling while Fleur seemed to be defending the kitchen with her own body. It was time for another rite. While reciting traditional poetry, Harry started gently smacking Fleur’s delectable backside. Each swing of the springy willow whip supposed to help keep Fleur youthful and fresh. As Harry finished, Fleur quickly grabbed him by the collar and kissed him, while their daughter giggled behind her hand.
This rite finished, the family grabbed the food Fleur with her daughter’s “assistance” prepared while Harry was braiding.
Again, the inhabitants of the enclave gathered at the centre where they prepared long tables and benches so everybody could fit in. Every family brought food, every person in the enclave contributed to this communal feast. The tables were decorated with coloured eggs and willow twigs bearing golden catkins. Everybody had enough to eat to enjoy the day, music started playing and the feast slowly transformed into a party with dancing and storytellers.
As the sun was nearing the horizon, people starting chanting. “Morena! Burn her! Burn Morena!”
With Sun’s last rays, the effigy of Morena, the personification of Winter and Death, was put on the pyre and the fire was lit. The inhabitants still played music, lively tunes on fiddles, flutes, bagpipes and other instruments and danced merrily around the pyre.
Finally, the celebrations ended, Harry (carrying his exhausted daughter) and Fleur returned to their home, put their daughter into her bed, activated the monitoring charms and stood in the door of their own bedroom.
“Let me show you ‘ow youthful and fresh I am, ‘usband.”