Love and Other Fairytales (Harry/Luna, R) 3/?
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.
Then there was only silence, both in his mind and in the tent. Ron and Hermione were both sound asleep. Lucky them. Harry knew he wouldn't sleep tonight. He felt as if someone had shattered him into a thousand pieces, and then scattered the pieces to the four winds. Voldemort's words still echoed in his mind. He didn't understand what had happened. This hadn't felt like possession. He'd felt in control of himself the whole time. The locket was on the other side of the room and safely closed, so it wasn't communicating with him. Had Voldemort himself been spying on Harry somehow or other? Had urging Hermione to perform Dark magic created an opening for him to slip into Harry's mind?
No. The voice had been Voldemort's, but it hadn't sounded like him. The voice had wanted to corrupt Harry. Voldemort didn't want Harry to become a Dark wizard. That would have merely created a powerful rival in his battle for supremacy over Britain. He wanted Harry dead. Harry wondered who his tempter was. He-or she, or it-had said they would return. Harry shivered. He'd barely resisted this time.
He wished Ginny were here. She always knew exactly what to say. Ginny would explain to him how what he had done wasn't nearly as terrible as he thought it was, and there was still some way to make this right. She wouldn't grant him absolution, but she would remind him that absolution was possible. She would tell him how best to combat the voice in his head. She would bring some much-needed light to him. But Ginny was hundreds of miles away, in Scotland.
Perhaps that wasn't as big an obstacle as it appeared. He sat up gingerly and dug the Dreaming Stone out of his rucksack. He'd packed it on a whim; it was small, one of the few mementos of his friends he could easily carry with him while he hunted for Horcruxes. It was probably a fake, but what if it wasn't? The Quibbler wasn't always wrong. Mr. Lovegood had been the only person willing to print the true story of Voldemort's return. If the Dreaming Stone did what Luna claimed it would, he could speak to Ginny. He knew it was a faint, foolish hope, but he was desperate for some form of comfort. He put the stone under his pillow and whispered Ginny's name.
The magic of the Dreaming Stone must have included a charm to put him to sleep because the next thing he knew, he was standing at the back of the Transfiguration classroom. A dozen students, their outlines slightly blurred, were hunched over their desks, writing madly. McGonagall, equally as hazy and looking more severe than Harry remembered ever seeing her, scrutinized their every movement. No one in the room took any notice of him. There was no sign of Ginny.
"Five minutes," McGonagall called, "and remember the essay portion of this test should be at least three feet in length or you will receive a T, and you will be expelled and your wand snapped."
It was only then that he noticed that one of the girls was more clearly defined than the rest. It was Luna. She twisted her dirty blonde hair around her finger. "I'll never finish in time," she said calmly. Heedless of McGonagall's glare, she retrieved a book from her bag and began to read.
Harry stood, watching her. He was dreaming; that much was clear, but he knew he was dreaming, which hardly ever happened. Was this the influence of the Dreaming Stone? If it was, then where was Ginny? He walked among the desks. The other students remained oblivious. Now that he was close to them, he could see that their faces were as blurry as the rest of their bodies. Harry shivered.
Luna's head went up, as if she'd heard something. She closed her book and turned around to look in his direction. She paled, and her eyes went wider than normal. "Harry?" she breathed.
"Luna? You can see me? What's going on? I used the stone like you said, and-"
He cut off. Luna threw herself out of the chair and ran towards him. She threw her arms around him, hugged him close, and buried her face in his shoulder. "You're here," she whispered.
He patted her on the back awkwardly. "Yeah, I'm here."
Luna looked up at him, studying his face. After a moment, she seemed satisfied that he was indeed there and stepped back. "Nobody at school has seen you since the wedding, and then there were rumors that you'd broken into the Ministry. We didn't know whether you were alive or dead."
He smiled weakly. "Still breathing." His tone grew serious. "Where are we?"
"I was having a dream about a test I hadn't studied for. You interrupted."
"So, we're in your dream?" She nodded. "So the Dreaming Stone does work. Where's Ginny? I was thinking of her. I'm very glad to see you, though," he added quickly.
"Thank you, Harry." She beamed at him with such intensity that he shifted under her gaze. "I don't know how you ended up here. Maybe you can only enter the dreams of the person who gave you the stone?" She clapped her hands together. "That must be it. I can't wait to tell Daddy. This is going in next month's issue."
Harry nodded. It made as much sense as anything else. Luna might not have been who he was planning to see tonight, but she was a good friend, and he found himself surprisingly glad to see her. Still, one thing puzzled him. "You know you're in a dream. Is the stone doing that, too?"
She grinned and shook her head. "That's all me. The Muggles call it lucid dreaming. I can do more than that, though. Watch." She scrunched her face in concentration. The desks, students, and McGonagall all vanished, and the classroom ceiling transformed to open sky. He found himself standing on an unfamiliar hilltop. The grass was a bright, vivid green of the sort that Harry had never seen outside of travel brochures that Vernon had occasionally brought home. At the bottom of the hill, the ground was carpeted with blue flowers. The sun warmed his face, while a light breeze ruffled his hair.
"Where are we? What happened to Hogwarts?"
"Oh, we're still in my dreams." She smiled. "They do say that you can go anywhere you want in your imagination. I happen to take it more literally than most. Right now, we’re just outside the village of Glocca Morra, in Ireland. My father took me here with him on an expedition just after my mother died. I think he was trying to distract me."
He hated it when she was like this, when she mentioned things that ought to be sad in such a matter-of-fact way. He never knew whether he was supposed to say he was sorry or ignore it. So he went with the safe option and said nothing.
She tilted her head sideways. "You look dreadful. Are the Horcruxes affecting you? I did try to warn you that they were dangerous. I didn't mean to the body."
"Maybe." He gulped. Luna appeared to be the only source of comfort or consolation that he was going to receive. If he was going to tell someone else about the Fiendfyre incident, it would have to be her. He had no idea how she would react. She could be so dogmatic when she thought someone was wrong and she was right. On the other hand, she had been so grateful to have him as a friend that she had memorialized him with a life-sized portrait of his face. Perhaps she would understand. It was worth the risk. "I accidentally hurt Hermione. We found one of the Horcruxes, but we don't have a way to destroy it. Hermione mentioned Fiendfyre, but she told me was it was too dangerous to use." He sat down on the grass. "I made her do it anyway. She burned her hand pretty badly. Ron's furious with me."
She watched him without speaking, and Harry's gut give an unfamiliar twist. He recognized the look on her face. He had seen it when she held forth on her theories about Snorkacks or goblins being baked into pies to some of the more sympathetic Hufflepuffs. Luna pitied him. Loony Lovegood pitied the putative Chosen One. There was something else in her eyes, and Harry recognized that, too. Disappointment. She reminded him of Dumbledore when Harry had told him that he hadn't been able to retrieve Slughorn's memory. And yet she said nothing, just stared at him. Harry wished she would rage and rail at him. He would have known how to deal with that.
"That was very wrong of you," she said at last. "Hermione could have incinerated everything within five miles. What are you going to do to make things right?"
"Not much I can do. Ron's already patched Hermione up."
"I find an apology is always a good first step. You have to be truly sorry, though, not just upset that Ron's angry with you. You are sorry?"
What kind of question was that? "Of course I'm sorry."
She smiled, but it was the smile of someone older and sadder than Luna had any right to be. "I'm glad. That's always the first step. But it isn't enough. You need to do something tangible to help heal the harm that you've caused." She thought for a minute. "I suppose you could Transfigure Hermione into a rock. Temporarily, of course."
"That's crazy! Why would I want to do something like that?" Harry backed up slowly. The Dreaming Stone was obviously making Luna completely cracked. If only he could remember the way out of here...
"Not really. Healers used to Transfigure people into inanimate objects when they were gravely injured and there wasn't enough time to get to the proper treatment or the proper supplies weren't on hand. Since objects don't have organs like we do, that meant the injury temporarily vanished as well. It bought the patient much-needed time."
Well, that made sense. A twisted and bizarre sort of sense that Harry preferred not to think about, but sense. "I don't think Hermione's quite that bad off. Got any less drastic suggestions?"
"Well, you could get some essence of merkleaf from an apothecary. That's good for burns."
"I'm a fugitive. I can't just waltz in and buy it."
Her sad smile was suddenly genuinely amused. "But you have an Invisibility Cloak."
Harry stared at her. Luna couldn't be suggesting what he thought she was suggesting. "I never thought you'd approve of stealing."
"Oh, it isn't stealing."
Harry frowned. "It isn't? I'm taking something without paying for it. I don't even have the money to pay for it. How is that not stealing?"
"Stealing isn't just taking something that doesn't belong to you. It's taking something against the reasonable will of the rightful owner. No reasonable person could object to you helping Hermione. Therefore, taking the essence of merkleaf isn't stealing."
Harry doubted that kind of reasoning would hold water at the Wizenagomot, but he was too desperate to care. "I guess I should be going, then."
"You should. I'll send you back in a moment." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come back when you're done and tell me if it helped."
"I will." Before Harry had time to do anything else, he found himself wide awake in his own sleeping bag.
Ron and Hermione were asleep on the opposite side of the tent. He wouldn't be missed. Harry crept outside as quietly as he could manage. The sky was dark and clouded, and he could barely see his hand in front of his face. The shops in Diagon Alley would all be closed. The streets would be nearly deserted. That presented its own set of problems. There would be little noise to cover the sound of Apparition. If anyone was out, they would hear him. He might as well set off fireworks to announce his arrival. He had to Apparate somewhere that was within walking distance of Diagon Alley, yet still uninhabited. No easy task.
Or he could simply Apparate to Diagon Alley. The answer came quickly and suddenly, as if it had been tucked in his brain by some higher power. Fred and George's joke shop was filled with things that made loud noises for no apparent reason No one would investigate if he popped in there. Harry drew the cloak around his body and set off.
Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was oddly cheerless at night. It was as if someone had sapped the color from the room, leaving it dull and lifeless. Fred and George slept in rooms on the first floor, but the shop itself was silent and he couldn't hear them moving about above him. The shelves seemed fuller than they had a year ago. Either people had no money to buy joke items, or the war had destroyed their sense of humor.
Harry crept out of the shop. He scarcely recognized Diagon Alley, even accounting for the time of night. There wasn't a light on from one end of the street to another, but in the dim light he could see a dozen boarded up windows. The air smelled of refuse and sweat. Dark figures huddled in side streets. Merlin, did people sleep here? There must be hundreds of people left homeless thanks to Umbridge and her laws.
Not your problem. Get what you came for and get out. Harry nodded. The misery of these people might be horrible, but it was nothing to what they would face if the Death Eaters continued wreaking havoc. He couldn't help them if he were captured. Beneath the cloak, Harry covered his mouth and nose and tried to ignore the smell.
The apothecary's stall was wedged between a cauldron shop and Alberdon's Animals for All Ages. Dozens of small glass bottles with peeling labels stood on the counter. The scent of dried herbs clung to the air. It was enough to overwhelm Harry even with his nose covered. At least the smell was making the vagrants keep their distance.
Harry squinted and attempted to read the labels, but it was no use. It was too dark. He would have to use Lumos and hope no one noticed the light until after he had already grabbed the merkleaf. If they hadn't... Harry dismissed the thought. He had come too far to be denied now. He owed Hermione this much. He stuck his wand out from beneath the cloak and whispered the spell. The bottles were bathed in a pale light. Harry tensed, ready to fight. But no one came to investigate. He found the merkleaf and Apparated away with a crack. Someone probably would hear that, but that was no matter. They could not see him. They could not trace him. His luck had changed at last.
Ron sat when he re-entered the tent. "Harry?" he muttered sleepily. "What are you doing up?"
Harry withdrew the bottle with a flourish. "Making up for being a twit." He knelt beside Hermione. Her skin was ashen, and sweat had plastered her hair to her scalp. "I need you to wake up now," he said softly.
She stirred. "What's that?"
"Essence of merkleaf. It's supposed to be good for burns. I'm going to rub some on your hand."
Ron snapped to full attention. "Merkleaf? That's brilliant. Why didn't I think of that?" He took the bottle from Harry. "Let me put it on."
Harry shrugged. As long as Hermione got help, it didn't matter who put it on. Hermione's eyes were glazed with pain, but her gaze never once left Ron's face. Harry smiled and lay down again. He had promised Luna, after all.
The dreamscape had not changed at all when he returned. Luna sat on the grass, staring dreamily into the distance. "Did it help?" she asked without turning around.
"I think so." He dropped down beside her. "For Hermione, anyway. I don't know what could keep Voldemort's voice out of my head."
Luna flinched. "His voice?"
He told her what Voldemort's voice had said and how Dumbledore's memory had finally been able to drive it out, at least temporarily. "But why now? He hasn't tried to possess me in a year and a half. Dumbledore said he was practicing Occlumency against me. I didn't think our connection could ever hurt me again."
"Well, browbeating someone into using Dark magic definitely sounds like something he would do. Perhaps you gave him an opening."
I hope not." He'd forced Hermione to cast the spell because he was frustrated, desperate, and under the influence of the locket. None of those things looked as if they were changing anytime soon. "I just wish I could catch a break. I wasn't ever supposed to be carrying around Horcruxes. Dumbledore gave me the Sword of Gryffindor so I could destroy them as I found them, but Scrimgeour wouldn't let me have it. Little rat," he muttered under his breath.
"Don't speak ill of the dead. They can't defend themselves. I'll definitely let you know if I ever run across the sword, though. It's probably at the school somewhere."
"You do that." Not that it would help much. To get into Hogwarts he'd need either Polyjuice Potion or a very, very big distraction. He'd have to trust that Fate would somehow provide the sword or he would have to find some other means of destroying the locket. "At the moment, I'm stuck with a Deluminator, a Snitch, and a book of fairy tales and no clue what to do with any of them or what they have to do with Horcruxes."
Luna brightened. "Oh, I love fairy tales! What book do you have?"
"Hermione inherited a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard from Dumbledore. It's got to be the weirdest gift of the bunch. I mean, I can sort of see how a Deluminator might be useful, but a kids’ book?"
Luna didn't seem to hear him. "Dad's very fond of the Beedle stories. Personally, I like the Muggle stories best."
"You know Muggle fairy tales?" Luna had always spent so much time talking about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and the latest conspiracy theory that her father had dreamed up that Harry had always assumed everything she believed in was equally fantastical.
She nodded enthusiastically. "My gran gave me a book of fairy tales when I was small. I've memorized most of them." She smiled slightly. "And you, Harry? Do you like fairy tales? You remind me of some of the heroes, so I suppose it would be only natural."
Harry flushed. He tried to picture himself as a prince from one of the badly-animated cartoons his primary school teachers had occasionally shown in class. He wasn't anything like them. "I've never heard many fairy tales. All I know are bits and pieces." Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had seen to that. No nephew of theirs was going to read anything with magic in it.
"But-but I thought every child who grew up with Muggles knew these stories. I could understand Ron not knowing them, but how could you not know anything about Bearskin or The Princess and the Pea? Are you sure that you're not just having me on?" Harry shook his head. "Well, then, we'll just have to do something about that, won’t we?" Her eyes lit up. "I know! I could tell you the stories at night when you visit me. What do you say?"
Harry thought it over. He wasn't terribly keen on hearing a bunch of children's stories, even-no, especially-from Luna. He'd outgrown them. On the other hand, Luna was his only contact with the outside world, and she was certain to be hurt if he said no. She might not come back. He'd be all alone with Ron, Hermione, and his thoughts. "All right."
She clapped her hands. "Excellent. It'll be just like Scheherazade and the Sultan. This'll be fun."
"Sha-hera-what?"
"I see I haven't begun your education a moment too soon. Come here and sit beside me.” Luna sat down on the grass and stretched her legs out. Harry followed her, feeling very stupid as he did so. She cleared her throat and began:
"Once there was a great sultan whose kingdom stretched as far as the eye could see. He had a wife who he loved more than all his riches and all his power. But his wife did not love him and was unfaithful. When the sultan found out, he saw that he had no choice but to order his wife to be beheaded, in accordance with the law. But the sultan had gone mad in his grief and decided that all women were as wicked as the sultana had been. It would be better if the world were rid of all of them. And so he decided that every day he would marry a girl and strangle her the next morning, so they could not pollute his kingdom any further."
"That's ... please tell me the sultan dies at the end."
"Do you want the story or not?" Harry nodded reluctantly, and she continued. "The sultan's decree caused great horror and grief within the city. Maidens wept at the thought of becoming the sultan's new bride, and mothers trembled to think of what fate might await their daughters. The grand vizier was in charge of finding the sultan a wife every day and killing her the following morning. He knew the sultan was very wicked, but he dared not oppose his lawful lord.
"The grand vizier himself was the father of two daughters, of whom the elder was called Scheherazade, and the younger, Dinarzade. Dinarzade had no gifts of wit or beauty to set her apart from the other girls. Scheherazade, however, was as beautiful as she was wise. Her father had given her the best tutors in history, mathematics, literature, and all the sciences, and he could deny her nothing."
"Sounds like Hermione."
Luna glared at him. "Harry..."
"Sorry."
"What was I? Ah, yes. One day, Scheherazade went to the grand vizier and asked that he might grant her a favor. He promised to do so, for he knew that his daughter would only ask for that which was just and reasonable.
"'I am determined to end the sultan's barbarity,' she said. 'The people have lived in terror for too long.'
"'That would be a fine thing,' said the grand vizier. 'How do you propose to do it?'
"'You shall present me as the sultan's next wife.'
"The grand vizier was quite taken aback by this. 'Daughter, are you mad? You know what fate awaits the sultan's bride.’
"'Nevertheless, I am determined. If I die, I will have died gloriously. If I live, I will have done a great service to my country.'
"The grand vizier tried in vain to dissuade her, but Scheherazade held firm. And so, with a heavy heart, the grand vizier brought her to the sultan. The sultan was quite shocked that the grand vizier would present him with his own daughter, but his madness was such that he married her anyway.
"When they brought her into the chamber, Scheherazade asked if she might not have one final request since it was her last night alive. The sultan consented, and Dinarzade was brought to them. It was now about one o'clock in the morning. 'I wonder if your majesty would consent to me telling my sister a story, since it is the last one I shall ever tell her.' The sultan agreed, for he had been quite fond of tales in his younger days. So Scheherazade began. Her story stretched long into the night, and when the guards came to execute her at daybreak, she was only half done with her tale. The sultan waved the guards away, for he wanted to hear the end. Her execution was postponed one day, but after that, she was to be executed just as his other wives had been."
Harry found himself leaning forward and looking at Luna. "What happened? Was she executed? Did the sultan get what he deserved?"
"He-" A slow smile spread across Luna's face. "No, I don't think I'm going to tell you now. I'll tell you at the end."
"The end?"
"When you've either come back home, or I've run out of stories. Every night you use the stone, I'll tell you a story." She sobered. "That way I know that you're all right. And it will keep your mind off him."
"You have a deal." Loony Lovegood keeping him sane. The irony would have appalled him just a few months ago. Now, he was merely grateful.
"No, Harry. It isn't irony." She grinned at him. "I prefer to think of it as poetry."
Previous
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.
Then there was only silence, both in his mind and in the tent. Ron and Hermione were both sound asleep. Lucky them. Harry knew he wouldn't sleep tonight. He felt as if someone had shattered him into a thousand pieces, and then scattered the pieces to the four winds. Voldemort's words still echoed in his mind. He didn't understand what had happened. This hadn't felt like possession. He'd felt in control of himself the whole time. The locket was on the other side of the room and safely closed, so it wasn't communicating with him. Had Voldemort himself been spying on Harry somehow or other? Had urging Hermione to perform Dark magic created an opening for him to slip into Harry's mind?
No. The voice had been Voldemort's, but it hadn't sounded like him. The voice had wanted to corrupt Harry. Voldemort didn't want Harry to become a Dark wizard. That would have merely created a powerful rival in his battle for supremacy over Britain. He wanted Harry dead. Harry wondered who his tempter was. He-or she, or it-had said they would return. Harry shivered. He'd barely resisted this time.
He wished Ginny were here. She always knew exactly what to say. Ginny would explain to him how what he had done wasn't nearly as terrible as he thought it was, and there was still some way to make this right. She wouldn't grant him absolution, but she would remind him that absolution was possible. She would tell him how best to combat the voice in his head. She would bring some much-needed light to him. But Ginny was hundreds of miles away, in Scotland.
Perhaps that wasn't as big an obstacle as it appeared. He sat up gingerly and dug the Dreaming Stone out of his rucksack. He'd packed it on a whim; it was small, one of the few mementos of his friends he could easily carry with him while he hunted for Horcruxes. It was probably a fake, but what if it wasn't? The Quibbler wasn't always wrong. Mr. Lovegood had been the only person willing to print the true story of Voldemort's return. If the Dreaming Stone did what Luna claimed it would, he could speak to Ginny. He knew it was a faint, foolish hope, but he was desperate for some form of comfort. He put the stone under his pillow and whispered Ginny's name.
The magic of the Dreaming Stone must have included a charm to put him to sleep because the next thing he knew, he was standing at the back of the Transfiguration classroom. A dozen students, their outlines slightly blurred, were hunched over their desks, writing madly. McGonagall, equally as hazy and looking more severe than Harry remembered ever seeing her, scrutinized their every movement. No one in the room took any notice of him. There was no sign of Ginny.
"Five minutes," McGonagall called, "and remember the essay portion of this test should be at least three feet in length or you will receive a T, and you will be expelled and your wand snapped."
It was only then that he noticed that one of the girls was more clearly defined than the rest. It was Luna. She twisted her dirty blonde hair around her finger. "I'll never finish in time," she said calmly. Heedless of McGonagall's glare, she retrieved a book from her bag and began to read.
Harry stood, watching her. He was dreaming; that much was clear, but he knew he was dreaming, which hardly ever happened. Was this the influence of the Dreaming Stone? If it was, then where was Ginny? He walked among the desks. The other students remained oblivious. Now that he was close to them, he could see that their faces were as blurry as the rest of their bodies. Harry shivered.
Luna's head went up, as if she'd heard something. She closed her book and turned around to look in his direction. She paled, and her eyes went wider than normal. "Harry?" she breathed.
"Luna? You can see me? What's going on? I used the stone like you said, and-"
He cut off. Luna threw herself out of the chair and ran towards him. She threw her arms around him, hugged him close, and buried her face in his shoulder. "You're here," she whispered.
He patted her on the back awkwardly. "Yeah, I'm here."
Luna looked up at him, studying his face. After a moment, she seemed satisfied that he was indeed there and stepped back. "Nobody at school has seen you since the wedding, and then there were rumors that you'd broken into the Ministry. We didn't know whether you were alive or dead."
He smiled weakly. "Still breathing." His tone grew serious. "Where are we?"
"I was having a dream about a test I hadn't studied for. You interrupted."
"So, we're in your dream?" She nodded. "So the Dreaming Stone does work. Where's Ginny? I was thinking of her. I'm very glad to see you, though," he added quickly.
"Thank you, Harry." She beamed at him with such intensity that he shifted under her gaze. "I don't know how you ended up here. Maybe you can only enter the dreams of the person who gave you the stone?" She clapped her hands together. "That must be it. I can't wait to tell Daddy. This is going in next month's issue."
Harry nodded. It made as much sense as anything else. Luna might not have been who he was planning to see tonight, but she was a good friend, and he found himself surprisingly glad to see her. Still, one thing puzzled him. "You know you're in a dream. Is the stone doing that, too?"
She grinned and shook her head. "That's all me. The Muggles call it lucid dreaming. I can do more than that, though. Watch." She scrunched her face in concentration. The desks, students, and McGonagall all vanished, and the classroom ceiling transformed to open sky. He found himself standing on an unfamiliar hilltop. The grass was a bright, vivid green of the sort that Harry had never seen outside of travel brochures that Vernon had occasionally brought home. At the bottom of the hill, the ground was carpeted with blue flowers. The sun warmed his face, while a light breeze ruffled his hair.
"Where are we? What happened to Hogwarts?"
"Oh, we're still in my dreams." She smiled. "They do say that you can go anywhere you want in your imagination. I happen to take it more literally than most. Right now, we’re just outside the village of Glocca Morra, in Ireland. My father took me here with him on an expedition just after my mother died. I think he was trying to distract me."
He hated it when she was like this, when she mentioned things that ought to be sad in such a matter-of-fact way. He never knew whether he was supposed to say he was sorry or ignore it. So he went with the safe option and said nothing.
She tilted her head sideways. "You look dreadful. Are the Horcruxes affecting you? I did try to warn you that they were dangerous. I didn't mean to the body."
"Maybe." He gulped. Luna appeared to be the only source of comfort or consolation that he was going to receive. If he was going to tell someone else about the Fiendfyre incident, it would have to be her. He had no idea how she would react. She could be so dogmatic when she thought someone was wrong and she was right. On the other hand, she had been so grateful to have him as a friend that she had memorialized him with a life-sized portrait of his face. Perhaps she would understand. It was worth the risk. "I accidentally hurt Hermione. We found one of the Horcruxes, but we don't have a way to destroy it. Hermione mentioned Fiendfyre, but she told me was it was too dangerous to use." He sat down on the grass. "I made her do it anyway. She burned her hand pretty badly. Ron's furious with me."
She watched him without speaking, and Harry's gut give an unfamiliar twist. He recognized the look on her face. He had seen it when she held forth on her theories about Snorkacks or goblins being baked into pies to some of the more sympathetic Hufflepuffs. Luna pitied him. Loony Lovegood pitied the putative Chosen One. There was something else in her eyes, and Harry recognized that, too. Disappointment. She reminded him of Dumbledore when Harry had told him that he hadn't been able to retrieve Slughorn's memory. And yet she said nothing, just stared at him. Harry wished she would rage and rail at him. He would have known how to deal with that.
"That was very wrong of you," she said at last. "Hermione could have incinerated everything within five miles. What are you going to do to make things right?"
"Not much I can do. Ron's already patched Hermione up."
"I find an apology is always a good first step. You have to be truly sorry, though, not just upset that Ron's angry with you. You are sorry?"
What kind of question was that? "Of course I'm sorry."
She smiled, but it was the smile of someone older and sadder than Luna had any right to be. "I'm glad. That's always the first step. But it isn't enough. You need to do something tangible to help heal the harm that you've caused." She thought for a minute. "I suppose you could Transfigure Hermione into a rock. Temporarily, of course."
"That's crazy! Why would I want to do something like that?" Harry backed up slowly. The Dreaming Stone was obviously making Luna completely cracked. If only he could remember the way out of here...
"Not really. Healers used to Transfigure people into inanimate objects when they were gravely injured and there wasn't enough time to get to the proper treatment or the proper supplies weren't on hand. Since objects don't have organs like we do, that meant the injury temporarily vanished as well. It bought the patient much-needed time."
Well, that made sense. A twisted and bizarre sort of sense that Harry preferred not to think about, but sense. "I don't think Hermione's quite that bad off. Got any less drastic suggestions?"
"Well, you could get some essence of merkleaf from an apothecary. That's good for burns."
"I'm a fugitive. I can't just waltz in and buy it."
Her sad smile was suddenly genuinely amused. "But you have an Invisibility Cloak."
Harry stared at her. Luna couldn't be suggesting what he thought she was suggesting. "I never thought you'd approve of stealing."
"Oh, it isn't stealing."
Harry frowned. "It isn't? I'm taking something without paying for it. I don't even have the money to pay for it. How is that not stealing?"
"Stealing isn't just taking something that doesn't belong to you. It's taking something against the reasonable will of the rightful owner. No reasonable person could object to you helping Hermione. Therefore, taking the essence of merkleaf isn't stealing."
Harry doubted that kind of reasoning would hold water at the Wizenagomot, but he was too desperate to care. "I guess I should be going, then."
"You should. I'll send you back in a moment." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come back when you're done and tell me if it helped."
"I will." Before Harry had time to do anything else, he found himself wide awake in his own sleeping bag.
Ron and Hermione were asleep on the opposite side of the tent. He wouldn't be missed. Harry crept outside as quietly as he could manage. The sky was dark and clouded, and he could barely see his hand in front of his face. The shops in Diagon Alley would all be closed. The streets would be nearly deserted. That presented its own set of problems. There would be little noise to cover the sound of Apparition. If anyone was out, they would hear him. He might as well set off fireworks to announce his arrival. He had to Apparate somewhere that was within walking distance of Diagon Alley, yet still uninhabited. No easy task.
Or he could simply Apparate to Diagon Alley. The answer came quickly and suddenly, as if it had been tucked in his brain by some higher power. Fred and George's joke shop was filled with things that made loud noises for no apparent reason No one would investigate if he popped in there. Harry drew the cloak around his body and set off.
Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was oddly cheerless at night. It was as if someone had sapped the color from the room, leaving it dull and lifeless. Fred and George slept in rooms on the first floor, but the shop itself was silent and he couldn't hear them moving about above him. The shelves seemed fuller than they had a year ago. Either people had no money to buy joke items, or the war had destroyed their sense of humor.
Harry crept out of the shop. He scarcely recognized Diagon Alley, even accounting for the time of night. There wasn't a light on from one end of the street to another, but in the dim light he could see a dozen boarded up windows. The air smelled of refuse and sweat. Dark figures huddled in side streets. Merlin, did people sleep here? There must be hundreds of people left homeless thanks to Umbridge and her laws.
Not your problem. Get what you came for and get out. Harry nodded. The misery of these people might be horrible, but it was nothing to what they would face if the Death Eaters continued wreaking havoc. He couldn't help them if he were captured. Beneath the cloak, Harry covered his mouth and nose and tried to ignore the smell.
The apothecary's stall was wedged between a cauldron shop and Alberdon's Animals for All Ages. Dozens of small glass bottles with peeling labels stood on the counter. The scent of dried herbs clung to the air. It was enough to overwhelm Harry even with his nose covered. At least the smell was making the vagrants keep their distance.
Harry squinted and attempted to read the labels, but it was no use. It was too dark. He would have to use Lumos and hope no one noticed the light until after he had already grabbed the merkleaf. If they hadn't... Harry dismissed the thought. He had come too far to be denied now. He owed Hermione this much. He stuck his wand out from beneath the cloak and whispered the spell. The bottles were bathed in a pale light. Harry tensed, ready to fight. But no one came to investigate. He found the merkleaf and Apparated away with a crack. Someone probably would hear that, but that was no matter. They could not see him. They could not trace him. His luck had changed at last.
Ron sat when he re-entered the tent. "Harry?" he muttered sleepily. "What are you doing up?"
Harry withdrew the bottle with a flourish. "Making up for being a twit." He knelt beside Hermione. Her skin was ashen, and sweat had plastered her hair to her scalp. "I need you to wake up now," he said softly.
She stirred. "What's that?"
"Essence of merkleaf. It's supposed to be good for burns. I'm going to rub some on your hand."
Ron snapped to full attention. "Merkleaf? That's brilliant. Why didn't I think of that?" He took the bottle from Harry. "Let me put it on."
Harry shrugged. As long as Hermione got help, it didn't matter who put it on. Hermione's eyes were glazed with pain, but her gaze never once left Ron's face. Harry smiled and lay down again. He had promised Luna, after all.
The dreamscape had not changed at all when he returned. Luna sat on the grass, staring dreamily into the distance. "Did it help?" she asked without turning around.
"I think so." He dropped down beside her. "For Hermione, anyway. I don't know what could keep Voldemort's voice out of my head."
Luna flinched. "His voice?"
He told her what Voldemort's voice had said and how Dumbledore's memory had finally been able to drive it out, at least temporarily. "But why now? He hasn't tried to possess me in a year and a half. Dumbledore said he was practicing Occlumency against me. I didn't think our connection could ever hurt me again."
"Well, browbeating someone into using Dark magic definitely sounds like something he would do. Perhaps you gave him an opening."
I hope not." He'd forced Hermione to cast the spell because he was frustrated, desperate, and under the influence of the locket. None of those things looked as if they were changing anytime soon. "I just wish I could catch a break. I wasn't ever supposed to be carrying around Horcruxes. Dumbledore gave me the Sword of Gryffindor so I could destroy them as I found them, but Scrimgeour wouldn't let me have it. Little rat," he muttered under his breath.
"Don't speak ill of the dead. They can't defend themselves. I'll definitely let you know if I ever run across the sword, though. It's probably at the school somewhere."
"You do that." Not that it would help much. To get into Hogwarts he'd need either Polyjuice Potion or a very, very big distraction. He'd have to trust that Fate would somehow provide the sword or he would have to find some other means of destroying the locket. "At the moment, I'm stuck with a Deluminator, a Snitch, and a book of fairy tales and no clue what to do with any of them or what they have to do with Horcruxes."
Luna brightened. "Oh, I love fairy tales! What book do you have?"
"Hermione inherited a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard from Dumbledore. It's got to be the weirdest gift of the bunch. I mean, I can sort of see how a Deluminator might be useful, but a kids’ book?"
Luna didn't seem to hear him. "Dad's very fond of the Beedle stories. Personally, I like the Muggle stories best."
"You know Muggle fairy tales?" Luna had always spent so much time talking about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and the latest conspiracy theory that her father had dreamed up that Harry had always assumed everything she believed in was equally fantastical.
She nodded enthusiastically. "My gran gave me a book of fairy tales when I was small. I've memorized most of them." She smiled slightly. "And you, Harry? Do you like fairy tales? You remind me of some of the heroes, so I suppose it would be only natural."
Harry flushed. He tried to picture himself as a prince from one of the badly-animated cartoons his primary school teachers had occasionally shown in class. He wasn't anything like them. "I've never heard many fairy tales. All I know are bits and pieces." Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had seen to that. No nephew of theirs was going to read anything with magic in it.
"But-but I thought every child who grew up with Muggles knew these stories. I could understand Ron not knowing them, but how could you not know anything about Bearskin or The Princess and the Pea? Are you sure that you're not just having me on?" Harry shook his head. "Well, then, we'll just have to do something about that, won’t we?" Her eyes lit up. "I know! I could tell you the stories at night when you visit me. What do you say?"
Harry thought it over. He wasn't terribly keen on hearing a bunch of children's stories, even-no, especially-from Luna. He'd outgrown them. On the other hand, Luna was his only contact with the outside world, and she was certain to be hurt if he said no. She might not come back. He'd be all alone with Ron, Hermione, and his thoughts. "All right."
She clapped her hands. "Excellent. It'll be just like Scheherazade and the Sultan. This'll be fun."
"Sha-hera-what?"
"I see I haven't begun your education a moment too soon. Come here and sit beside me.” Luna sat down on the grass and stretched her legs out. Harry followed her, feeling very stupid as he did so. She cleared her throat and began:
"Once there was a great sultan whose kingdom stretched as far as the eye could see. He had a wife who he loved more than all his riches and all his power. But his wife did not love him and was unfaithful. When the sultan found out, he saw that he had no choice but to order his wife to be beheaded, in accordance with the law. But the sultan had gone mad in his grief and decided that all women were as wicked as the sultana had been. It would be better if the world were rid of all of them. And so he decided that every day he would marry a girl and strangle her the next morning, so they could not pollute his kingdom any further."
"That's ... please tell me the sultan dies at the end."
"Do you want the story or not?" Harry nodded reluctantly, and she continued. "The sultan's decree caused great horror and grief within the city. Maidens wept at the thought of becoming the sultan's new bride, and mothers trembled to think of what fate might await their daughters. The grand vizier was in charge of finding the sultan a wife every day and killing her the following morning. He knew the sultan was very wicked, but he dared not oppose his lawful lord.
"The grand vizier himself was the father of two daughters, of whom the elder was called Scheherazade, and the younger, Dinarzade. Dinarzade had no gifts of wit or beauty to set her apart from the other girls. Scheherazade, however, was as beautiful as she was wise. Her father had given her the best tutors in history, mathematics, literature, and all the sciences, and he could deny her nothing."
"Sounds like Hermione."
Luna glared at him. "Harry..."
"Sorry."
"What was I? Ah, yes. One day, Scheherazade went to the grand vizier and asked that he might grant her a favor. He promised to do so, for he knew that his daughter would only ask for that which was just and reasonable.
"'I am determined to end the sultan's barbarity,' she said. 'The people have lived in terror for too long.'
"'That would be a fine thing,' said the grand vizier. 'How do you propose to do it?'
"'You shall present me as the sultan's next wife.'
"The grand vizier was quite taken aback by this. 'Daughter, are you mad? You know what fate awaits the sultan's bride.’
"'Nevertheless, I am determined. If I die, I will have died gloriously. If I live, I will have done a great service to my country.'
"The grand vizier tried in vain to dissuade her, but Scheherazade held firm. And so, with a heavy heart, the grand vizier brought her to the sultan. The sultan was quite shocked that the grand vizier would present him with his own daughter, but his madness was such that he married her anyway.
"When they brought her into the chamber, Scheherazade asked if she might not have one final request since it was her last night alive. The sultan consented, and Dinarzade was brought to them. It was now about one o'clock in the morning. 'I wonder if your majesty would consent to me telling my sister a story, since it is the last one I shall ever tell her.' The sultan agreed, for he had been quite fond of tales in his younger days. So Scheherazade began. Her story stretched long into the night, and when the guards came to execute her at daybreak, she was only half done with her tale. The sultan waved the guards away, for he wanted to hear the end. Her execution was postponed one day, but after that, she was to be executed just as his other wives had been."
Harry found himself leaning forward and looking at Luna. "What happened? Was she executed? Did the sultan get what he deserved?"
"He-" A slow smile spread across Luna's face. "No, I don't think I'm going to tell you now. I'll tell you at the end."
"The end?"
"When you've either come back home, or I've run out of stories. Every night you use the stone, I'll tell you a story." She sobered. "That way I know that you're all right. And it will keep your mind off him."
"You have a deal." Loony Lovegood keeping him sane. The irony would have appalled him just a few months ago. Now, he was merely grateful.
"No, Harry. It isn't irony." She grinned at him. "I prefer to think of it as poetry."
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