Inflecto

Harry rolled over onto his side and rubbed at his prickling scar, wishing it would stop bothering him and allow him to get some sleep. The pain had been keeping him awake all night, long after Hermione had gone to bed and Ron had taken up his post as watchman. They had been taking turns each night, Harry and Ron, for either of them refused to allow Hermione to do it on her own; in spite of her insistence that she was just as old as she was--older- if anything--and every bit as capable as they, of course. She often went to bed grumbling.

Tonight they were camped out in a forest a mile or two away from Godric's Hollow, the small village where Harry had once lived with his parents. The trees grew thick and tall, lush with leaves and long branches that looked more like arms, seeming to reach out in all directions. Jagged, thorny bushes were clumped in various places around the wood, and the slightly springy forest floor was decorated with fallen leaves, twigs, and animal droppings, depending on where you stepped.

Harry groaned and gave up his attempts at sleep--he wasn't very comfortable anyway. His bed was a simple sleeping bag on the cold ground and his back was starting to ache from the lack of proper support. It had been Hermione who insisted that they try to use as little magic as possible while traveling--a skilled witch or wizard would be able to track them if they left traces of magic behind. So they were actually "roughing it", the only magic they had used so far was simple Apparition, and it wasn't often. Despite Ron's promise to help Harry in any way he could, he constantly complained about the amount of walking they had to do and how sick he was of not having a proper bed to sleep in. These moments caused Harry and Hermione to exchange knowing looks, and he could tell they were both thinking the same thing: without a wand, wizards were hardly as powerful as they boasted.

Harry turned to check on Hermione, who lay a foot or two away from where he sat. She was sleeping soundly, seeming to have no problem at all with the rugged terrain. Then again, he realized, Hermione was the only one of them who had actually gone camping before.

Restless, Harry wriggled out of his sleeping bag and looked up at the sky. He could almost make out the moon through the tangled mass of branches high above him; there were still a few hours until daylight, and since Harry couldn't sleep he figured he might as well do something productive with his time and take over the watch-keeping duties from Ron.

Harry scowled as he approached the flickering campfire, sleeping bag in arm; Ron's snores had reached his ears. Idiot! He felt like taking hold of Ron's shoulders and shaking the hell out of him. Didn't he understand that they were keeping watch for a reason? Did he not understand how serious their mission was?

It was only logic that forced him not to give Ron a rude awakening and tell him off. Someone might notice a disturbance in the forest and come to investigate, or worse, Hermione would wake up and join in. A wild-eyed, screeching Hermione that hadn't gotten enough sleep was not a sight that Harry was ready to deal with, even if she was on his side. Harry set his sleeping bag down in front of the fire and stared daggers at Ron's haphazard form.

Ron was not the only Weasley that was causing him trouble; Ginny had been quite a problem after he, Ron, and Hermione had come to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and explained (most) of their plans for the summer, telling them that they were searching for information, and left it at that. Mrs. Weasley wouldn't leave it at that, though--she cried and shook her head so hard Harry had the feeling it would come unhinged for her neck, but the three teenagers would not be swayed.

Harry had thought the drama would end there, with Mr. Weasley rubbing his wife's back consolingly and sending them off with his best wishes, but then Ginny, who had been listening to the conversation thanks to the help of an Extendable Ear, butted in, offering her help. Harry flat-out refused, and the defiant yet accepting Ginny he had seen at Dumbledore's funeral disappeared--somehow, they ended up having a heated row in the middle of the kitchen.

"I can help!" Ginny yelled, while Mrs. Weasley protested that her youngest and only daughter was not going to be doing anything of the sort. "I only want to help you!"

"No, you can't," Harry explained through clenched teeth, trying his hardest keep his cool. Why did Ginny have to be so bloody stubborn? "You'll only be in the way, and I don't want you to get hurt--"

"You're not worried about Ron and Hermione getting hurt, you're not worried that they'll be in your way--" she snapped loudly, attempting to drown out the sound of her mother's sobs.

"Of course I am!" Harry bellowed, unable to hold it in anymore. "But Hermione and Ron have proved themselves time and time again, and if you'll excuse me, Ginny, I don't think Bat-Bogies are going to stop Lord Voldemort," he added nastily. The room went silent, and Harry had to turn away so she wouldn't be able to see the regret on his face. He didn't want to do it, but it needed to be said. If hurting Ginny's feelings meant protecting her, there was no other choice.

"Go to hell, Harry!" Ginny screamed angrily, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Harry would never forget the look on her face when he finally had enough courage to glance her way. Ginny's cheeks was redder than her hair, and there was ferocity in her eyes that he had never seen before as she fixed him with a gaze that was pure hatred, her pale hands curled into fists.

Hermione had tried to talk to her afterward, doing her best to explain the situation, but Ginny refused to listen, and the three had left that night glum and upset instead of confident and heartened.

Harry had not spoken to Ginny since. Then again, he'd hardly spoken to anyone, having insisted that no one attempt to contact him. They could not risk their mail being tampered with or owls followed.

This was why when an owl approached, a letter in its beak, the sight did nothing to lift Harry's mood. He cursed angrily under his breath as he snatched the envelope away from the owl, annoyed as ever. The owl nipped his finger hard and gave him an offended hoot before flying off into the night. The envelope was marked for "Harold" but he had no doubt the damn thing was for him anyway. He ripped open the letter and unfolded it violently, ignoring his throbbing finger. He expected some sort of plea from Mrs. Weasley--"Please come home, all of you, I've been so worried"--and was quite surprised when he realized that wasn't the case at all.

The letter was from Luna.

Harry read the letter all the way through once, then twice. Luna missed him, she'd written, and hoped his "Dangerous Mission" was going well.

The most fascinating part of the letter was when Luna divulged that she had been poking around her home during the summer and had come upon a hidden cache of her mother's notes.

...She was a very intelligent witch, you know, she had even built her own lab down in the basement, but it was destroyed in the blast that killed her. My father thought her notes were destroyed as well, but they weren't.

I was going through some of our old albums last week when I noticed that the pages looked oddly thick, as if something was stuck between them... I ripped one very carefully with a letter opener and found some papers with my mother's handwriting on them. They were her notes--she'd hidden them very well, really. They are all records of my mother's experiments and findings, and they even had some spells she'd invented written there as well.

Here's one that may be useful on your Mission: Protego Potentium. It conjures a very powerful shield. Here are the instructions:

Flick your wand to the left and draw a small circle in the air while reciting the incantation; the invisible circle you have drawn should turn gold, then widen and become transparent. The shield's size and might will vary from person to person depending on the individual's magical strength.

If you'd like to know more of them, just tell me and I'll write back, it's no trouble at all. You're one of the only people I can call a friend, Harold, and I'll always be there to help you should you ever need it. That's why I've written, even I wasn't supposed to. Please don't be mad, but if you don't write back I'll understand.

Your friend,

Luna

PS: It is probably best that you destroy this letter immediately, for safety reasons, right after reading this sentence.

Harry felt his anger ebb away as he carefully refolded the letter and slipped it into his pocket. Luna was right in suggesting that it should be destroyed, as it could put either of them into jeopardy, but he didn't want to get rid of it just yet. It was a little strange how un-bothered he was by the whole thing--if it had been anyone else Harry would have chewed them out--but it was actually nice hearing from someone who was a real friend, who wasn't there to argue about his mission or bother him with questions. Luna was there to help, and knowing that raised his spirits significantly. Another plus was that her mother's notes could prove to be very useful, especially the spells she'd invented. It wouldn't hurt to know every defensive spell he could, and with this thought in his mind he set off to practice the charm.

"Protego Potentium!" he whispered, flicking the wand sharply to the left and continuing the circular motion until his invisible outline filled with a bright golden color and widened to his size, partly obscuring the forest ahead of him. Harry grinned happily at his work; tomorrow he would teach the spell to Ron and Hermione and together they could test it's strength. There was no doubt in his mind that he would write Luna back tomorrow--though he'd have to find a Muggle post office first, just to be safe--and tell her he wasn't angry with her and would gladly take any more help she could give him

And maybe... he might add that he missed her, too.