Love and Other Fairytales (Harry/Luna, R) 1/?
Title: Love and Other Fairytales
Characters: Harry, Luna, Voldemort, Ron, Hermione, Ginny
Pairings: All pairings initially reflect canon. Eventual Harry/Luna
Rating: R for violence and disturbing themes.
Summary: Harry learns Luna knows something about Horcruxes, and her price for the information is that Harry keep in touch. He soon learns that not all enemies can be fought and even Luna has secrets.
Authors Note: Some passages originally appeared in Once Upon a Dream. This is a much darker, novel length version of that story with everything I couldn't include in the fest version.
"I don't understand why you keep that thing," Ron said. "Don't get me wrong; if anyone’s got a right to the locket, it's you, but it’s worthless."
Hermione crossed her arms. "I agree. It's morbid for you to carry that thing around."
Harry didn't say anything and sat down under the nearest tree. Ron and Hermione sat on either side of him. It was good for him to hold onto the locket, no matter what they said. R.A.B -- whoever he was -- died putting it in the cave. Dumbledore almost died trying to remove it. He kept it to remember why he was still willing to risk his life. Two men had already died hunting Horcruxes, and he wouldn't let their sacrifice be in vain.
The sun hung low in the sky, turning the lake a dull shade of orange. A warm breeze ruffled his hair. This was the last night before the summer holidays, and their last night at Hogwarts at all. Harry, Ron, and Hermione seemed to be the only students not safely tucked away in their dormitories. The evening was unnaturally silent and still. Even the birds and insects were silent. It was as if Hogwarts itself mourned Dumbledore's death.
No one spoke for a long time until Hermione said, "Shouldn't we be going back? We're supposed to be in the common room in twenty minutes. You know how Filch gets when he catches students out of bed."
Ron snorted. "What's Filch going to do? Give us detention?" He sobered. "Though I have to admit, detention sounds a lot better than Horcrux hunting."
"You can still turn back, you know. Dumbledore only said I had to do it. He didn't say anything about either of you." Despite his words, Harry didn't want them to stay away. He had only just gotten used to the idea that he wouldn't have to undertake his quest alone, and he didn't want to go back.
Ron shook his head. "No! We said we'd be with you whatever happens, and we meant it. No matter how bad it gets, we'll be there for you. Isn't that right, Hermione?" Hermione nodded vigorously, and Harry felt a strange tightness in his chest.
"Yes, Harry. You ought to know by now that friends don't abandon each other." Harry looked up sharply. The voice was so soft that he might have imagined it, except he could now see Luna perched on one of the thicker branches, watching them with an expression of concern and what might have been shock. "Be very careful. Horcruxes are dangerous."
Harry couldn't do anything but stare at her. They had tried so hard to keep their plans a secret. No one else could know. It was too dangerous for anyone to accompany them, and the Death Eaters would certainly track down and torture those who might have information on his mission. He hadn't even told Ginny exactly what they were going to do. And now it was all for nothing. He glared at Ron and turned back to Luna. Maybe he could salvage this. He had to. "You, er, know how Horcruxes are. Fierce little buggers who bite your hand off. There's some in the garden of my house. We're going to hunt them down over the holidays. Aren't we?" Hermione made noises of agreement, but Ron stood terrified until Harry surreptitiously kicked him in the shin.
Luna smiled slightly, though her eyes were strangely hard. "You are a very bad liar, Harry. Besides, I know what Horcruxes are."
"Do you now?" Hermione asked. Harry looked at her and thought he knew where this was going. Maybe it wasn't a terrible thing that Luna had overheard him. They knew very little about Horcuxes. If Luna knew more, she could help them, or at least tell them where to look for more information.
"Yes. They're an object you put a piece of your soul in to keep from dying." Her voice was very soft. "They can only be created by murder."
Ron scowled. "I don't suppose you know anything else? Say, something we had already figured out for ourselves?"
"No. My mother might have. She died because of a Horcrux."
"What?" the three of them said at once.
She shoved her hands in her pockets. "The spell she was working on was something to track or count them. I think she must have made a arithmantical error and..." she trailed off and looked at Harry. "You know what happened next."
"Yeah, I do." Harry thought to keep the excitement out of his voice. A spell to track Horcruxes was more than he could have ever dreamed of. He could pinpoint their location without running all over England. He'd be able to find the real locket and make Dumbledore's and R.A.B's deaths count for something after all. They might be home by Christmas. "Do you still have your Mum's notes? Hermione's a genius at Arithmancy. I'll bet she could get it to work."
Hermione flushed with pleasure, but Luna looked vaguely ill. "So was Mum. It killed her, Harry. Why are you looking for Horcruxes? Does it have something to do with the war?"
Hermione stepped forward. "You Know Who made Horcruxes. That's how he was able to come back to life. We need to find them all before he can die forever. The longer it takes, the more innocent people will be killed. Maybe that spell of your mother's could help us find them faster. I'll have her notes, so I shouldn't make the same mistake she did. It won't kill me."
Luna bowed her head. Harry had never seen her like this, nor had he even known she could be like this. She was odd, true, but she was always cheerful and certain. And now she wasn't. It was almost enough to make him tell her to forget it. Almost.
Finally, she looked up. "I'll, give you the notes, Harry, but I want you to promise me something, first."
Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "And what would that be?"
Luna bit her lip. The wind blew a strand of hair into her face. Harry had a brief, irrational urge to brush it away. "Will you write to me? Horcruxes are deadly. Neville, Ginny, and I will worry about you. Well, Neville and Ginny won't know what you're doing, but I'm sure they'll worry."
"Are you in --" Ron threw up his hands. "It's not like we can send you letters through the Owl Post!"
Luna ignored Ron and took Harry's hand in hers. "That's my price. I don't expect three feet of parchment every day. Just promise me you'll try to find some way to keep in touch every now and again." Her eyes lost their dreamy expression, and Harry felt the tightness in his chest intensify. "Please. You should have someone who isn't on a quest to talk to. It keeps things cheerful."
"I... I. promise I'll try." He squeezed her hand. "But you have to promise me something else, too. "You can't tell anyone what you've heard. Ever. Not Ginny. Not your dad. If anyone ever finds out you know, the Death Eaters will torture and kill you without a second thought."
Luna didn't flinch. "I promise I won't tell anyone of your quest." She brightened suddenly and dropped his hand. "Thank you and good night." And with that, she walked in the direction of the castle, humming a bad version of "Odo the Brave" as if the last five minutes had never happened. Harry watched her go. Just as she was about to vanish from view, she turned back. “And Harry," she said with a smile, "you should definitely keep the locket."
The three of them watched her go. When she had vanished from site, Ron whistled. "Is it just me, or does Luna seem more, well, loony than usual?"
Hermione frowned. "She did seem rather upset. I'd love to know how her mother knew so much about Horcruxes."
Harry didn't say anything. He wondered too, but he wasn't sure he would like the answer.
--
Harry didn't see or discuss Luna again until two days after he had arrived at the Burrow. He scarcely saw Ron and Hermione. Mrs. Weasley seemed to sense that something was up and kept them all preparing for the upcoming wedding -- separately. Ron had been dispatched to sort presents while Hermione helped with the laundry. Harry himself was degnoming the garden. He didn't quite get the point. The blighters would be back well before the wedding and he'd only have to throw them out again. Still, Mrs. Weasley had asked and so he was out here. Harry picked up the nearest gnome, swung it around and threw. It sailed into the distance. One down, a billion to go.
"Nice toss," said a voice behind him. "Maybe you should have gone out for Keeper."
Harry turned. Ginny leaned against a nearby outcropping of rock, her Nimbus 2002 lying at her feet. The breeze swirled around her, but she seemed heedless to how flyaway it was making her hair. Her skin was darker than usual, her freckles having almost faded against her newfound tan. She looked the very picture of the modern sporting witch: young, vital, and ready to win the cup for England at a moment's notice. A familiar feeling clawed in his chest. Sometimes it was difficult to remember why he broke up with Ginny.
He forced himself to keep his tone casual. "Try Beater. You wouldn't think a gnome would be that heavy, and Bludgers don't bite."
"No, they just crack your skull." She took a deep breath. "Luna wanted me to tell you that she has what you asked for and that it's at her house. What's this about? She wouldn't tell me anything. Said you were sworn to secrecy."
"I did," said Harry shortly. "War business. It's too dangerous for you." He wasn't stupid. If the Death Eaters even thought Ginny knew anything, she would be the first one they targeted. It was his job to protect her, and the best way he could do that was by keeping her in the dark."
"Like fighting at the Department of Mysteries and Hogwarts was too dangerous?"
"If it had been up to me, I would have gone to the Ministry by myself." He ran his fingers through his hair. Why couldn't she see he was only trying to do what was best? "You're the one who broke her leg almost as soon as she got there. The only reason you didn't die a month ago was because of the Felix, and I'm fresh out."
Ginny flinched as if he'd slapped her. Her face was as cold and hard as a freshly-carved ice sculpture. The last time he'd seen that look, Zacharias Smith had ended up in the hospital wing for two weeks. He'd never thought to see it directed at him. "I see. Poor little Ginny needs protecting. I'm not eleven anymore. You don't always need to rescue me."
Oh. Harry closed the gap between them and tilted Ginny's chin up. She didn't move to retreat or slap him, and he could see himself reflected in her eyes. "Sorry. I know you can take care of yourself. It's just... you're special to me and I couldn't take it if anything happened to you." He thought this was the part where he was supposed to say I love you, but he couldn't quite get the words out. Hopefully, Ginny would understand.
They stood like that for a long time, not speaking. Finally, Ginny closed her eyes and sighed. "Someday, you'll have to tell me all your secrets."
"Someday," Harry agreed. "This one's a bit of a moot point, though. I don't have a way to get to Luna, and your Mum's watching me like a hawk."
Ginny thought for a moment. She stepped back, picked up her broom, and held it out to him "You can take this. It's not a Firebolt, but it will get you there."
Harry blinked. Ginny had gotten the Nimbus for her last birthday as a reward for winning the Quidditch Cup. It was the most expensive thing she owned. He had never seen it dirty or in anything less than peak condition. And she was letting him borrow it? "I thought you were sore at me?"
"Oh, I am. I can get back at you after you defeat You Know Who. This is a bit more important." She smiled, but she looked more like a dog baring its teeth than something friendly. "And this isn't the first time you've been a complete idiot. I got over that, too."
Harry knew what she meant. He could almost hear the words Lucky you echo through the air. "Any idea how I can distract Mrs. Weasley long enough to get away."
Before Ginny could answer, there was an explosion somewhere in the distance. Harry whipped his head around. Were they under attack? He reached into his pocket to draw his wand.
Ginny put a restraining hand on his arm. "Easy." Her smile turned genuine. "It's just your distraction. I 'borrowed' one of Fred and George's new firework prototypes. Mum should be noticing it any moment now."
And sure enough, Harry heard the faint but unmistakable sound of Mrs. Weasley shrieking. He stared slack-jawed at Ginny. She planned everything he would need to get to Luna before she'd even come to find him. He'd never figure out how she managed it. "Thank you."
"Consider it an early birthday present. It was either this or --" She blushed. "Never mind. Luna's house is about three miles to the northwest. You'll know it when you see it. Now hurry up. Mum's bound to figure out what's going on eventually."
Harry mounted the broom and took off. It had been months since he'd simply flown, without anyone trying to kill him. He'd thought he'd never get the chance again. This was a better present than anything Ginny could have given him. The Nimbus wasn't his Firebolt, but it was still a real racing broom. He looked down. The hills surrounding Ottery St. Catchpole were deserted for far as he could see. It couldn't hurt to have a little fun. He whooped, sailed higher, and executed on impromptu figure eight. He whooped. God, he would miss this.
Five minutes later, a tall black tower appeared in the distance. This could only be the Lovegood house. The stone was perfectly round and smooth so that the house could have been constructed only by magic, and there was an air of harmless strangeness about the place they Harry recognized as distinctly Lovegood. He set down a little past a broken down gate. If it was rude to Apparate directly to someone's house, it must be equally rude to land on their doorstep. Harry propped Ginny's broom against the low wall and set off toward the house.
The path zigzagged in what felt like eight different directions on its way to the front door. The edges were ragged. A number of odd plants grew on either side, including a bush covered in the orange radishlike fruit Luna sometimes wore as earrings, and were only kept in check by some truly heroic gardening. Harry thought he recognized a Snargalpuff and gave the stump a wide berth. Two aged apple trees, bent with wind and time and in full flower with bushy crowns of white beaded mistletoe, stood sentinel on either side of the front door, and a peevish looking owl with a hawklike head stared down at him from one of the branches. The door was studded with iron nails and bore a knocker shaped like an eagle. And he thought he was proud of his house. Harry suppressed a smile and knocked three times.
The door swung open a few moments later. "Hello, Harry," Luna said brightly. "I see Ginny delivered my message. Would you like to come inside?" She wore scarlet and plum robes that escaped being gaudy mostly because she was the one wearing them and Harry had come to expect nothing less. Well, that and the scarlet complemented her hair nicely.
Harry nodded, and Luna stepped back to allow him to enter. He found himself standing in the most peculiar kitchen he had ever seen. The room was perfectly circular, so that it felt like being inside a giant pepper pot. Everything was curved to fit the walls -- the stove, the sink and the cupboards -- and all of it had been painted with flowers, insects, and birds in bright primary colors. Harry looked from them to Luna's robes and back again. There was decidedly something of her style about them.
Luna noticed his staring. "Do you like them? I painted most of them just after we moved here when I was ten. I can do more accurate pictures now, but these are still quite charming."
Harry thought overwhelming would have described them better than charming, but it seemed impolite to say so. "I didn't know you painted," he said at last.
"Ever since I was a child. Drawing, too easy. I just completed a really big project in my room, if you'd like to see." She led him up two flights of a spiral staircase that twisted upward and inward like an Escher painting. Harry was indifferent to whatever her "project" might be, but Ginny had said that her mother's notes were in her room and he definitely wasn't indifferent to that.
Halfway there, he chanced to look up and froze. His own face stared back at him from the ceiling of the room above. The likeness was so good that he thought it must be some strange sort of mirror, except that the picture didn't move when he did. He darted past Luna to see what it was and understood. It wasn't a mirror . Luna had decorated the ceiling of her bedroom with portraits of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville. This was the project she had told him about. The portraits didn't contain any of the ordinary enchantments. They didn't move or speak. But they seemed half-magical in their own way. They seemed to breathe and Harry half expected them to come alive at any moment. What appeared to be fine golden chains wove around the pictures, linking them together, but on closer inspection Harry realized that the chains were actually one word, repeated a thousand times in golden ink: friends... friends... friends...
A dozen emotions tumbled through Harry at once, with pity, discomfort and affection warring for dominance. He remembered how Luna had said the DA was "like having friends." In retrospect, he ought to have done something about that: held more meetings, introduced her to his housemates who were least likely to be perturbed by her strange theories. But he'd been so caught up in Malfoy and the Half-Blood Prince and Quidditch and Horcruxes that he hadn't really thought about it. He knew what it was like to be alone and friendless, but Luna had fought at his side a year ago. Surely someone would've wanted to get to know her better, if only for their own selfish reasons. Obviously not. So she had chosen to memorialize the five of them instead. The thought made him shiver.
Luna came to stand beside him. "I hope it's a good enough likeness," she said airily. "I was working from memory."
"It's very good," Harry said quickly and searched for something else to look at.
The rest of Luna's bedroom was surprisingly normal. Ordinary pale blue carpet, ordinary writing desk, ordinary four poster bed, ordinary nightstand adorned with pictures. Luna smiled and went to her desk and opened the topmost drawer. "I'm glad you think so, but I know you didn't come here to talk about my art." She withdrew an impressive stack of parchment bound together with a black silk ribbon. The handwriting was small and cramped and the pages were filled with strange abbreviations and words that might or might not have been foreign. They made his head hurt just looking at them.
"Any idea what this does?" he asked helplessly as he put the papers to one side.
She shrugged, and her expression grew solemn. "As I said, I think it's some sort of tracking spell, but I'm not sure. Be very careful, Harry. I know Gryffindors like to be reckless but try to be reckless only when you don't have any other choice."
What was he supposed to say to that? Harry blushed and turned aside, feigning interest in the photographs on the nightstand. There were the two of them. In the first a young Luna hugged a woman who was obviously her mother. The woman looked to be in her late fifties or early sixties and she resembled Luna strongly, with the same ash blonde hair and overly large gray eyes.
The second photograph was a formal portrait. A young woman sat perched on a high backed wooden chair. She could have passed for Luna's identical twin. She was not beautiful, but there was an icy regality that drew his eye. This was the sort of girl who expected worship and got it. She was dressed in Hogwarts robes of the style of fifty years ago, and her green and silver tie looked tight enough to choke her. The Head Girl badge had been carefully pinned to her breast. She twisted a plain gold band on the ring finger of her left hand.
Harry stared. "Your mum was in Slytherin?" He'd never thought much about what house Luna's parents had been in, but he'd assumed that they were both eccentric Ravenclaws. He had a hard time picturing any Slytherin being willing to marry the editor of the Quibbler.
Luna frowned. "Class of '45. She was Caroline Rosier then. I don't think she liked Hogwarts all that much. She hardly ever spoke of her school days, and I don't really know anyone from my mother's side of the family."
"Just as well. I know Evan Rosier ended up a Death Eater." Luna should never have to associate with people like that. Caroline Lovegood had probably thought so too. He pointed at the ring. "At least she'd already met your dad."
Luna suddenly seemed to find her shoes very interesting. "That wasn't my dad. She was engaged to another boy while she was at Hogwarts. It didn't work out. He turned out to be not as nice as she thought." She exhaled. "I suppose I should be grateful since I wouldn't be here otherwise."
"Er, right." Harry shifted from foot to foot. He was the only person he knew who could pry by complete accident. "I'll just be going, shall I?"
"Don't go," Luna whispered. "I haven't given you your gift yet."
"Gift? What gift?"
Luna placed one hand in her pocket. "Something so you can keep your promise. Hold out your hand and close your eyes. It's an early birthday present in case I don't see you again and I don't want to spoil the surprise."
Harry hadn't closed his eyes and held out his hand for anything since he was seven years old, but it seemed the least he could do after what he'd forced her to recall an obviously unpleasant. So, he obeyed without protest. The only sound was Luna's soft breathing. She took his outstretched hand in one of hers and placed something smooth and hard in his palm and closed his fingers around it. "You can open your eyes now."
Harry opened his eyes and unfolded his hand to reveal … a rock. He stared stupidly at it. Luna was watching him solemnly as if she'd just given him the Philosopher's Stone. It wasn't like her to take pleasure in belittling others. There had to be something special about this stone. Harry turned it over in his palm. There was a crudely carved rune that he couldn't decipher on the back. Other than that, it seemed to be an ordinary skipping stone. He gave up. "What is it?"
"It's a Dreaming Stone."
"A what?"
"A Dreaming Stone," she said again, as if they were as common and self-explanatory as cauldrons. "It lets you see into a person's dreams and communicate with them. One of the Quibbbler readers sent it in. Daddy says it's the most important magical invention since broomsticks."
Harry thought it hardly likely that anyone who had invented something that powerful would have sent it in to the Quibbler, but she was so miserable that he didn't say anything. Instead, he asked, "How's it supposed to work?"
"Put this stone under your pillow before you go to sleep and think of the person whose dreams you want to enter. When you fall asleep, you'll be in their dreams. Daddy says he hasn't been able to get it to work properly because of his sleep apnea, but I'm sure you'll have better luck."
"Thank you," he said with as much solemnity as he could manage. At least he was absolved of his promise. He'd dutifully put it under his pillow once or twice. She could hardly fault him if it failed to work, and he wouldn't have to worry about Luna or anyone else being captured by the Death Eaters because of him.
"You're welcome." She smiled sadly. "You had better go. Mrs. Weasley will be wondering where you are."
Next
Characters: Harry, Luna, Voldemort, Ron, Hermione, Ginny
Pairings: All pairings initially reflect canon. Eventual Harry/Luna
Rating: R for violence and disturbing themes.
Summary: Harry learns Luna knows something about Horcruxes, and her price for the information is that Harry keep in touch. He soon learns that not all enemies can be fought and even Luna has secrets.
Authors Note: Some passages originally appeared in Once Upon a Dream. This is a much darker, novel length version of that story with everything I couldn't include in the fest version.
"I don't understand why you keep that thing," Ron said. "Don't get me wrong; if anyone’s got a right to the locket, it's you, but it’s worthless."
Hermione crossed her arms. "I agree. It's morbid for you to carry that thing around."
Harry didn't say anything and sat down under the nearest tree. Ron and Hermione sat on either side of him. It was good for him to hold onto the locket, no matter what they said. R.A.B -- whoever he was -- died putting it in the cave. Dumbledore almost died trying to remove it. He kept it to remember why he was still willing to risk his life. Two men had already died hunting Horcruxes, and he wouldn't let their sacrifice be in vain.
The sun hung low in the sky, turning the lake a dull shade of orange. A warm breeze ruffled his hair. This was the last night before the summer holidays, and their last night at Hogwarts at all. Harry, Ron, and Hermione seemed to be the only students not safely tucked away in their dormitories. The evening was unnaturally silent and still. Even the birds and insects were silent. It was as if Hogwarts itself mourned Dumbledore's death.
No one spoke for a long time until Hermione said, "Shouldn't we be going back? We're supposed to be in the common room in twenty minutes. You know how Filch gets when he catches students out of bed."
Ron snorted. "What's Filch going to do? Give us detention?" He sobered. "Though I have to admit, detention sounds a lot better than Horcrux hunting."
"You can still turn back, you know. Dumbledore only said I had to do it. He didn't say anything about either of you." Despite his words, Harry didn't want them to stay away. He had only just gotten used to the idea that he wouldn't have to undertake his quest alone, and he didn't want to go back.
Ron shook his head. "No! We said we'd be with you whatever happens, and we meant it. No matter how bad it gets, we'll be there for you. Isn't that right, Hermione?" Hermione nodded vigorously, and Harry felt a strange tightness in his chest.
"Yes, Harry. You ought to know by now that friends don't abandon each other." Harry looked up sharply. The voice was so soft that he might have imagined it, except he could now see Luna perched on one of the thicker branches, watching them with an expression of concern and what might have been shock. "Be very careful. Horcruxes are dangerous."
Harry couldn't do anything but stare at her. They had tried so hard to keep their plans a secret. No one else could know. It was too dangerous for anyone to accompany them, and the Death Eaters would certainly track down and torture those who might have information on his mission. He hadn't even told Ginny exactly what they were going to do. And now it was all for nothing. He glared at Ron and turned back to Luna. Maybe he could salvage this. He had to. "You, er, know how Horcruxes are. Fierce little buggers who bite your hand off. There's some in the garden of my house. We're going to hunt them down over the holidays. Aren't we?" Hermione made noises of agreement, but Ron stood terrified until Harry surreptitiously kicked him in the shin.
Luna smiled slightly, though her eyes were strangely hard. "You are a very bad liar, Harry. Besides, I know what Horcruxes are."
"Do you now?" Hermione asked. Harry looked at her and thought he knew where this was going. Maybe it wasn't a terrible thing that Luna had overheard him. They knew very little about Horcuxes. If Luna knew more, she could help them, or at least tell them where to look for more information.
"Yes. They're an object you put a piece of your soul in to keep from dying." Her voice was very soft. "They can only be created by murder."
Ron scowled. "I don't suppose you know anything else? Say, something we had already figured out for ourselves?"
"No. My mother might have. She died because of a Horcrux."
"What?" the three of them said at once.
She shoved her hands in her pockets. "The spell she was working on was something to track or count them. I think she must have made a arithmantical error and..." she trailed off and looked at Harry. "You know what happened next."
"Yeah, I do." Harry thought to keep the excitement out of his voice. A spell to track Horcruxes was more than he could have ever dreamed of. He could pinpoint their location without running all over England. He'd be able to find the real locket and make Dumbledore's and R.A.B's deaths count for something after all. They might be home by Christmas. "Do you still have your Mum's notes? Hermione's a genius at Arithmancy. I'll bet she could get it to work."
Hermione flushed with pleasure, but Luna looked vaguely ill. "So was Mum. It killed her, Harry. Why are you looking for Horcruxes? Does it have something to do with the war?"
Hermione stepped forward. "You Know Who made Horcruxes. That's how he was able to come back to life. We need to find them all before he can die forever. The longer it takes, the more innocent people will be killed. Maybe that spell of your mother's could help us find them faster. I'll have her notes, so I shouldn't make the same mistake she did. It won't kill me."
Luna bowed her head. Harry had never seen her like this, nor had he even known she could be like this. She was odd, true, but she was always cheerful and certain. And now she wasn't. It was almost enough to make him tell her to forget it. Almost.
Finally, she looked up. "I'll, give you the notes, Harry, but I want you to promise me something, first."
Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "And what would that be?"
Luna bit her lip. The wind blew a strand of hair into her face. Harry had a brief, irrational urge to brush it away. "Will you write to me? Horcruxes are deadly. Neville, Ginny, and I will worry about you. Well, Neville and Ginny won't know what you're doing, but I'm sure they'll worry."
"Are you in --" Ron threw up his hands. "It's not like we can send you letters through the Owl Post!"
Luna ignored Ron and took Harry's hand in hers. "That's my price. I don't expect three feet of parchment every day. Just promise me you'll try to find some way to keep in touch every now and again." Her eyes lost their dreamy expression, and Harry felt the tightness in his chest intensify. "Please. You should have someone who isn't on a quest to talk to. It keeps things cheerful."
"I... I. promise I'll try." He squeezed her hand. "But you have to promise me something else, too. "You can't tell anyone what you've heard. Ever. Not Ginny. Not your dad. If anyone ever finds out you know, the Death Eaters will torture and kill you without a second thought."
Luna didn't flinch. "I promise I won't tell anyone of your quest." She brightened suddenly and dropped his hand. "Thank you and good night." And with that, she walked in the direction of the castle, humming a bad version of "Odo the Brave" as if the last five minutes had never happened. Harry watched her go. Just as she was about to vanish from view, she turned back. “And Harry," she said with a smile, "you should definitely keep the locket."
The three of them watched her go. When she had vanished from site, Ron whistled. "Is it just me, or does Luna seem more, well, loony than usual?"
Hermione frowned. "She did seem rather upset. I'd love to know how her mother knew so much about Horcruxes."
Harry didn't say anything. He wondered too, but he wasn't sure he would like the answer.
--
Harry didn't see or discuss Luna again until two days after he had arrived at the Burrow. He scarcely saw Ron and Hermione. Mrs. Weasley seemed to sense that something was up and kept them all preparing for the upcoming wedding -- separately. Ron had been dispatched to sort presents while Hermione helped with the laundry. Harry himself was degnoming the garden. He didn't quite get the point. The blighters would be back well before the wedding and he'd only have to throw them out again. Still, Mrs. Weasley had asked and so he was out here. Harry picked up the nearest gnome, swung it around and threw. It sailed into the distance. One down, a billion to go.
"Nice toss," said a voice behind him. "Maybe you should have gone out for Keeper."
Harry turned. Ginny leaned against a nearby outcropping of rock, her Nimbus 2002 lying at her feet. The breeze swirled around her, but she seemed heedless to how flyaway it was making her hair. Her skin was darker than usual, her freckles having almost faded against her newfound tan. She looked the very picture of the modern sporting witch: young, vital, and ready to win the cup for England at a moment's notice. A familiar feeling clawed in his chest. Sometimes it was difficult to remember why he broke up with Ginny.
He forced himself to keep his tone casual. "Try Beater. You wouldn't think a gnome would be that heavy, and Bludgers don't bite."
"No, they just crack your skull." She took a deep breath. "Luna wanted me to tell you that she has what you asked for and that it's at her house. What's this about? She wouldn't tell me anything. Said you were sworn to secrecy."
"I did," said Harry shortly. "War business. It's too dangerous for you." He wasn't stupid. If the Death Eaters even thought Ginny knew anything, she would be the first one they targeted. It was his job to protect her, and the best way he could do that was by keeping her in the dark."
"Like fighting at the Department of Mysteries and Hogwarts was too dangerous?"
"If it had been up to me, I would have gone to the Ministry by myself." He ran his fingers through his hair. Why couldn't she see he was only trying to do what was best? "You're the one who broke her leg almost as soon as she got there. The only reason you didn't die a month ago was because of the Felix, and I'm fresh out."
Ginny flinched as if he'd slapped her. Her face was as cold and hard as a freshly-carved ice sculpture. The last time he'd seen that look, Zacharias Smith had ended up in the hospital wing for two weeks. He'd never thought to see it directed at him. "I see. Poor little Ginny needs protecting. I'm not eleven anymore. You don't always need to rescue me."
Oh. Harry closed the gap between them and tilted Ginny's chin up. She didn't move to retreat or slap him, and he could see himself reflected in her eyes. "Sorry. I know you can take care of yourself. It's just... you're special to me and I couldn't take it if anything happened to you." He thought this was the part where he was supposed to say I love you, but he couldn't quite get the words out. Hopefully, Ginny would understand.
They stood like that for a long time, not speaking. Finally, Ginny closed her eyes and sighed. "Someday, you'll have to tell me all your secrets."
"Someday," Harry agreed. "This one's a bit of a moot point, though. I don't have a way to get to Luna, and your Mum's watching me like a hawk."
Ginny thought for a moment. She stepped back, picked up her broom, and held it out to him "You can take this. It's not a Firebolt, but it will get you there."
Harry blinked. Ginny had gotten the Nimbus for her last birthday as a reward for winning the Quidditch Cup. It was the most expensive thing she owned. He had never seen it dirty or in anything less than peak condition. And she was letting him borrow it? "I thought you were sore at me?"
"Oh, I am. I can get back at you after you defeat You Know Who. This is a bit more important." She smiled, but she looked more like a dog baring its teeth than something friendly. "And this isn't the first time you've been a complete idiot. I got over that, too."
Harry knew what she meant. He could almost hear the words Lucky you echo through the air. "Any idea how I can distract Mrs. Weasley long enough to get away."
Before Ginny could answer, there was an explosion somewhere in the distance. Harry whipped his head around. Were they under attack? He reached into his pocket to draw his wand.
Ginny put a restraining hand on his arm. "Easy." Her smile turned genuine. "It's just your distraction. I 'borrowed' one of Fred and George's new firework prototypes. Mum should be noticing it any moment now."
And sure enough, Harry heard the faint but unmistakable sound of Mrs. Weasley shrieking. He stared slack-jawed at Ginny. She planned everything he would need to get to Luna before she'd even come to find him. He'd never figure out how she managed it. "Thank you."
"Consider it an early birthday present. It was either this or --" She blushed. "Never mind. Luna's house is about three miles to the northwest. You'll know it when you see it. Now hurry up. Mum's bound to figure out what's going on eventually."
Harry mounted the broom and took off. It had been months since he'd simply flown, without anyone trying to kill him. He'd thought he'd never get the chance again. This was a better present than anything Ginny could have given him. The Nimbus wasn't his Firebolt, but it was still a real racing broom. He looked down. The hills surrounding Ottery St. Catchpole were deserted for far as he could see. It couldn't hurt to have a little fun. He whooped, sailed higher, and executed on impromptu figure eight. He whooped. God, he would miss this.
Five minutes later, a tall black tower appeared in the distance. This could only be the Lovegood house. The stone was perfectly round and smooth so that the house could have been constructed only by magic, and there was an air of harmless strangeness about the place they Harry recognized as distinctly Lovegood. He set down a little past a broken down gate. If it was rude to Apparate directly to someone's house, it must be equally rude to land on their doorstep. Harry propped Ginny's broom against the low wall and set off toward the house.
The path zigzagged in what felt like eight different directions on its way to the front door. The edges were ragged. A number of odd plants grew on either side, including a bush covered in the orange radishlike fruit Luna sometimes wore as earrings, and were only kept in check by some truly heroic gardening. Harry thought he recognized a Snargalpuff and gave the stump a wide berth. Two aged apple trees, bent with wind and time and in full flower with bushy crowns of white beaded mistletoe, stood sentinel on either side of the front door, and a peevish looking owl with a hawklike head stared down at him from one of the branches. The door was studded with iron nails and bore a knocker shaped like an eagle. And he thought he was proud of his house. Harry suppressed a smile and knocked three times.
The door swung open a few moments later. "Hello, Harry," Luna said brightly. "I see Ginny delivered my message. Would you like to come inside?" She wore scarlet and plum robes that escaped being gaudy mostly because she was the one wearing them and Harry had come to expect nothing less. Well, that and the scarlet complemented her hair nicely.
Harry nodded, and Luna stepped back to allow him to enter. He found himself standing in the most peculiar kitchen he had ever seen. The room was perfectly circular, so that it felt like being inside a giant pepper pot. Everything was curved to fit the walls -- the stove, the sink and the cupboards -- and all of it had been painted with flowers, insects, and birds in bright primary colors. Harry looked from them to Luna's robes and back again. There was decidedly something of her style about them.
Luna noticed his staring. "Do you like them? I painted most of them just after we moved here when I was ten. I can do more accurate pictures now, but these are still quite charming."
Harry thought overwhelming would have described them better than charming, but it seemed impolite to say so. "I didn't know you painted," he said at last.
"Ever since I was a child. Drawing, too easy. I just completed a really big project in my room, if you'd like to see." She led him up two flights of a spiral staircase that twisted upward and inward like an Escher painting. Harry was indifferent to whatever her "project" might be, but Ginny had said that her mother's notes were in her room and he definitely wasn't indifferent to that.
Halfway there, he chanced to look up and froze. His own face stared back at him from the ceiling of the room above. The likeness was so good that he thought it must be some strange sort of mirror, except that the picture didn't move when he did. He darted past Luna to see what it was and understood. It wasn't a mirror . Luna had decorated the ceiling of her bedroom with portraits of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville. This was the project she had told him about. The portraits didn't contain any of the ordinary enchantments. They didn't move or speak. But they seemed half-magical in their own way. They seemed to breathe and Harry half expected them to come alive at any moment. What appeared to be fine golden chains wove around the pictures, linking them together, but on closer inspection Harry realized that the chains were actually one word, repeated a thousand times in golden ink: friends... friends... friends...
A dozen emotions tumbled through Harry at once, with pity, discomfort and affection warring for dominance. He remembered how Luna had said the DA was "like having friends." In retrospect, he ought to have done something about that: held more meetings, introduced her to his housemates who were least likely to be perturbed by her strange theories. But he'd been so caught up in Malfoy and the Half-Blood Prince and Quidditch and Horcruxes that he hadn't really thought about it. He knew what it was like to be alone and friendless, but Luna had fought at his side a year ago. Surely someone would've wanted to get to know her better, if only for their own selfish reasons. Obviously not. So she had chosen to memorialize the five of them instead. The thought made him shiver.
Luna came to stand beside him. "I hope it's a good enough likeness," she said airily. "I was working from memory."
"It's very good," Harry said quickly and searched for something else to look at.
The rest of Luna's bedroom was surprisingly normal. Ordinary pale blue carpet, ordinary writing desk, ordinary four poster bed, ordinary nightstand adorned with pictures. Luna smiled and went to her desk and opened the topmost drawer. "I'm glad you think so, but I know you didn't come here to talk about my art." She withdrew an impressive stack of parchment bound together with a black silk ribbon. The handwriting was small and cramped and the pages were filled with strange abbreviations and words that might or might not have been foreign. They made his head hurt just looking at them.
"Any idea what this does?" he asked helplessly as he put the papers to one side.
She shrugged, and her expression grew solemn. "As I said, I think it's some sort of tracking spell, but I'm not sure. Be very careful, Harry. I know Gryffindors like to be reckless but try to be reckless only when you don't have any other choice."
What was he supposed to say to that? Harry blushed and turned aside, feigning interest in the photographs on the nightstand. There were the two of them. In the first a young Luna hugged a woman who was obviously her mother. The woman looked to be in her late fifties or early sixties and she resembled Luna strongly, with the same ash blonde hair and overly large gray eyes.
The second photograph was a formal portrait. A young woman sat perched on a high backed wooden chair. She could have passed for Luna's identical twin. She was not beautiful, but there was an icy regality that drew his eye. This was the sort of girl who expected worship and got it. She was dressed in Hogwarts robes of the style of fifty years ago, and her green and silver tie looked tight enough to choke her. The Head Girl badge had been carefully pinned to her breast. She twisted a plain gold band on the ring finger of her left hand.
Harry stared. "Your mum was in Slytherin?" He'd never thought much about what house Luna's parents had been in, but he'd assumed that they were both eccentric Ravenclaws. He had a hard time picturing any Slytherin being willing to marry the editor of the Quibbler.
Luna frowned. "Class of '45. She was Caroline Rosier then. I don't think she liked Hogwarts all that much. She hardly ever spoke of her school days, and I don't really know anyone from my mother's side of the family."
"Just as well. I know Evan Rosier ended up a Death Eater." Luna should never have to associate with people like that. Caroline Lovegood had probably thought so too. He pointed at the ring. "At least she'd already met your dad."
Luna suddenly seemed to find her shoes very interesting. "That wasn't my dad. She was engaged to another boy while she was at Hogwarts. It didn't work out. He turned out to be not as nice as she thought." She exhaled. "I suppose I should be grateful since I wouldn't be here otherwise."
"Er, right." Harry shifted from foot to foot. He was the only person he knew who could pry by complete accident. "I'll just be going, shall I?"
"Don't go," Luna whispered. "I haven't given you your gift yet."
"Gift? What gift?"
Luna placed one hand in her pocket. "Something so you can keep your promise. Hold out your hand and close your eyes. It's an early birthday present in case I don't see you again and I don't want to spoil the surprise."
Harry hadn't closed his eyes and held out his hand for anything since he was seven years old, but it seemed the least he could do after what he'd forced her to recall an obviously unpleasant. So, he obeyed without protest. The only sound was Luna's soft breathing. She took his outstretched hand in one of hers and placed something smooth and hard in his palm and closed his fingers around it. "You can open your eyes now."
Harry opened his eyes and unfolded his hand to reveal … a rock. He stared stupidly at it. Luna was watching him solemnly as if she'd just given him the Philosopher's Stone. It wasn't like her to take pleasure in belittling others. There had to be something special about this stone. Harry turned it over in his palm. There was a crudely carved rune that he couldn't decipher on the back. Other than that, it seemed to be an ordinary skipping stone. He gave up. "What is it?"
"It's a Dreaming Stone."
"A what?"
"A Dreaming Stone," she said again, as if they were as common and self-explanatory as cauldrons. "It lets you see into a person's dreams and communicate with them. One of the Quibbbler readers sent it in. Daddy says it's the most important magical invention since broomsticks."
Harry thought it hardly likely that anyone who had invented something that powerful would have sent it in to the Quibbler, but she was so miserable that he didn't say anything. Instead, he asked, "How's it supposed to work?"
"Put this stone under your pillow before you go to sleep and think of the person whose dreams you want to enter. When you fall asleep, you'll be in their dreams. Daddy says he hasn't been able to get it to work properly because of his sleep apnea, but I'm sure you'll have better luck."
"Thank you," he said with as much solemnity as he could manage. At least he was absolved of his promise. He'd dutifully put it under his pillow once or twice. She could hardly fault him if it failed to work, and he wouldn't have to worry about Luna or anyone else being captured by the Death Eaters because of him.
"You're welcome." She smiled sadly. "You had better go. Mrs. Weasley will be wondering where you are."
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