Destiny Finds a Way

Chapter VII - Eclipsed

It was a windy out the day that Harry clutched a bouquet of flowers, heading toward a marble white gravestone, which was catching what soft light the clouds above had not enshrouded. At first he wasn't sure he had it in him to come at all but he thought it was finally time that he visited his friend.

There were a large number of people scattered about the area, their black cloaks billowing with the breeze. They seemed to be trying to keep the solemnity of their visit but their efforts were evidently still a bit lax. Most of them were chatting quietly with the rest, some even going so far as cracking some audacious jokes here and there. Children were running around, snatching flowers from other graves and picking out their petals, enjoying the way they were carried off by the wind. But there were still thankfully some that had kept their silence, receding into the shadows of the trees that surrounded the place.

Harry placed his flowers carefully in front of Luna's headstone. They were wildflowers, each a different color. He thought that would suit her, he never really knew her favorite flower. He took a seat on the grass and stared at the cold marble in front of him.

R. I. P.

Luna Lovegood

1981-1998

Beloved daughter, friend and companion.

May your untamed spirit run free and uncharted,

Finding everlasting peace in the liberty of forever...

Some of the people were beginning to realize that Harry was there. They called out his name and waved at him. Harry knew most of them but he would not allow himself to be bothered. He was too far gone inside his own silent reverie to acknowledge anybody at the moment. He ignored them and it seemed as though they had gotten the message that Harry needed whatever privacy they could allow him because they stopped trying to catch his attention after a certain point.

Harry was glad of it because now that they did, he could hear her voice again more clearly than ever before and could almost remember how she looked that it seemed as though she were seated right beside him. It surprised him that it did not hurt as much as it usually did. It was almost as if right now, he could feel that she had not indeed left him at all. Not like so many who loved him in his life already did.

And she had loved him dearly, he recalled with a pang of guilt, in a way he could not force himself to do. And it broke him when he had to tell her so. She could handle rejection better than most people, since she mostly had been shunned most of her life anyway. But it was not the rejection that ate at her but the valiant effort she put forward to keep on loving him. He wondered if she knew that it ate at him too. Ever since she had left them so suddenly, he was never really able to let his guilt go.

Everyday was a constant battle to repress all these painful memories but as he looked her name etched on the marble slab in front of him... all of them came rushing back as if a dam had burst within him.

It was the day before they ended term for the Christmas holidays, when everything started spiraling into too much frenzy for Harry to handle. Harry was not feeling all that festive during December that year. Things at the Order were at a tense point. Voldemort's plans were coming into play exactly as they had feared he would lay them out. He could no longer get a decent night's rest without horrible visions visiting his dreams, causing his tempter to grow even shorter. Studying and workload for N.E.W.T's were driving him insane. Occlumency lessons with Moody were even more treacherous than it ever was when Snape was his instructor. And to top it all of, his and Liz's "cool off" still seemed to be going strong since he was fuming that particular morning after seeing Liz having breakfast with Martin Grotesqo, a Hufflepuff 6^th year.

Why did she want to go out with someone named Martin Grotesqo? What kind of a name was Grotesqo for a normal human being anyway? He knew wizards had unusual names, but this was quite ridiculous. For that matter, what did she want with him at all? She never used to talk to him before and all of a sudden they were eating breakfast together and flirting? He thought angrily as he paced the Room of Requirement. It was full of cluttered items. He had already thrown, flung, stomped, kicked, punched, cursed, hexed, and broken most of them yet his fury still remained in unhealthy unrest and in complete dissatisfaction. He sunk onto the floor and ran his hands forcefully through his hair. She was being so... impossible. She was getting back at him because she thought he was dating Ginny again. That had to be it.

He was just reaching for a book to become the outlet of latest wave of rage that had suddenly coursed its way through his body when someone walked in on him. It was like somebody had hit the pause button at the most suspenseful part of a movie.

"Harry? Harry, is that you?"

Harry craned his neck irritably to get a good look at the speaker. It was Luna. What did she think she was doing here? How did she even get here?

"You stormed off in the middle of your kippers. I was worried," she said in a surprisingly firm manner.

Harry remained silent. He crossed his arms and looked stonily up at the ceiling. He didn't feel like talking to anyone right now.

"I was just making sure that your kippers weren't infested by Bloating Bruggers. They're really dangerous. They'll bloat your whole stomach up larger than a beach ball and then it'll explode. Dreadful, really. The Ministry should really enforce stricter food policies. My father'll be writing all about it in the next issue of the Quibbler," she prattled, without looking at him. She was talking so fast, she could've rivaled Hermione.

"Well obviously, that's not the reason," said Harry, finally finding a gap in his resentment to be able to reply.

"Of course, I gathered as much when I---"

"What do you want?" Harry said, more rudely than he'd intended.

Luna suddenly looked as if she had lost her footing. The firmness her voice seemed to have been boasting just a few moments before seemed to have dissipated. Her hands began to quiver and fresh beads of sweat were materializing on her pale forehead. Her steps echoed ominously as she made her way towards Harry. She then sat down nervously, hugging her knees bracingly to her chest.

"Harry, you're hurt aren't you? And not because of Bloating Bruggers," she began unsurely.

"Well, that's a given," Harry said shortly.

"But you know, Liz---Liz isn't the only girl in Hogwarts who's worth your time," she mumbled sorely.

"I don't care. She's the only girl I want and that's all that really matters," he said hotly, finally standing up, grabbing the book and giving it a good hard chuck towards the opposite wall.

Then he heard an odd choking noise and some scraping. He looked over his shoulder. Luna had suddenly turned scarlet and was hurriedly getting up from the floor.

"Where are you going all of a sudden?" Harry asked, puzzled.

She opened her mouth to say something but closed it again and ran out of the room as fast as her legs could carry her. Harry rolled his eyes. He wondered what could possibly be up with her this time.

If only he had known that would be the last time he'd ever see her... he would not have been so curt with her that morning. She left that afternoon for the Hogwarts express without a goodbye. She was hurt. More hurt than Harry thought she was. Even though he had wanted to apologize, he could not find her in time before the Thestrall-drawn carriages whisked its occupants to Hogsmeade Station. It was when the last carriage had disappeared from Harry's range of vision that Ginny had told him what Luna could have told Harry earlier if he had let her.

"You can be such a jerk sometimes, you know?" she said testily following Harry's gaze.

"Yeah I know, but I had good reason this morning. I don't even know why she was so angry anyway. I mean, I would've expected she'd be annoyed but she totally walked out on me," Harry exclaimed.

"Oh isn't it obvious?" she rolled her eyes at him as she pushed the double oak doors open.

"Isn't what so obvious?" he raised an eyebrow at her as they headed back into the entrance hall.

"Harry!" she kneaded her cheeks in utter frustration. "Harry, she likes you, all right? Possibly even loves you. You understand now?"

Harry burst out laughing, the sound of his mirth echoing throughout the whole hall, making it seem as if an army of Harry clones were laughing all at the same time. He clutched his stomach with one hand and used the other to grip one the banisters of the stairs for support. His knees were giving way due the hilarity of the statement he had just heard Ginny mutter.

She, on the other hand, did not seem very amused. Quite the exact opposite, actually. Her eyes were narrowed into dangerous slits and her arms were crossed stiffly across her chest. Harry almost expected steam to start coming out of her ears. Her murderous glare quelled his amusement.

"Y-you can't be serious?" Harry steadied himself.

"Can't I?"

Before Harry could reply to Ginny, Hermione and Ron appeared at the top of the stairs. They seemed bursting with jubilance about something.

"Harry! Harry! You've got to come up to Gryffindor tower now!" Hermione squealed, bounding down towards him like she had one too many cups of coffee a few hours back.

"Yeah, mate, Fred and George just sent the most awesome package. Ginny, you've got to come too. They sent something for you especially," Ron grinned, following Hermione's suit.

"Maybe later. I think I left something in the library. I've got to go get it first. I'll meet you there when I've collected it," She said. Harry couldn't tell if she was lying or not. She threw him one last meaningful look behind Ron's and Hermione's back before separating herself from their company.

From that day onwards, everything passed on in a nightmarish blur. Luna never came back from home. The first few days were all right. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary that students extended their visit home for a couple more days more. But it had been two weeks and Harry was anxious to talk to her and apologize. Apologize for more than just what he said to her that morning before her departure. He needed to apologize to her because he'd meant what he'd said.

"Where's Luna?" Harry panted, resting his arm on Ginny's shoulder. He had to run counter flow against the tide of students filing out for lunch. He was thanking the heavens for Ginny's stand-out fiery red hair. It was easy to spot in crowds.

"Noticed, have you?" Ginny said somewhat stonily. Harry felt her body turn rigid with tension.

"Why? Is something the matter?" He whispered in concern, lifting his arm of her shoulder, fearing she might slap it off at any second.

"I don't know, I haven't heard from her since the day she left," Harry saw the tension in her body ebb away as her eyebrows knitted together in concern.

"I don't like it, Harry. I really don't," she looked up at him, the expression playing across her face indiscernible.

"You don't think---?"

"I don't know, Harry... I really don't," with that, Ginny broke their conversation off and resumed walking. Harry did not pursue her any longer. He felt it might not be the wisest thing to do.

Everything was getting way too aberrant as of late. Harry did not like the new feeling that was taking form in his stomach. He watched Ginny's head bob in and out of the crowd before he completely lost vision of her. Where was Luna? What was she doing? And more importantly, why hadn't she joined them in schooling yet? She couldn't be retreating because she was still irascible about what had happened between them that last day before Christmas break, could she? But in all honesty, Harry deeply hoped this was the reason of her absence. Better that than the prospect that there might be something more aphotic at work in this.

"He can't have gotten to her. He just can't have," then he turned on his heel and he himself went towards the Great Hall, debating with himself whether he should share these disturbing bits of information with Ron and Hermione.

The chatter inside the Great Hall as the Hogwarts students ate under its sunny, enchanted ceiling was making Harry's head throb painfully. He had already so much going on within his mind without the constant buzzing of his fellow pupils. He was angry because he was worried. He was angry because he just wanted to shut everyone up as well as his incessant thoughts. He didn't like feeling so unsure, so helpless, and so anxious. The last time he felt this upset was...

No no... Harry tried to snap himself out of it, valiantly fighting the urge to think about these unfavorable contemplatives. He wanted to punch it out until his knuckles bled. He wanted to scream unendingly until he had nothing left in him to scream. But he couldn't do any of that which made him even angrier. So he tried to content himself by repeatedly spearing his sausages with very violent thrusts.

"Harry? You look strange. What's up?" Hermione said quietly, taking a seat beside him. Maybe she had noticed that he had reduced his sausages into ground beef? Or maybe she could see that steam was coming out of Harry's ears because he sure felt that he was literally fuming.

"I'm worried, all right?" Harry yelled, all his pent up rage exploding with every syllable he uttered. Hermione, though receiver of this unnecessary show of fury, did not looked the least bit abashed. Rather she frowned pensively, as though collecting her suspicions and putting it together with what she had gathered from Harry's outburst.

"You're finding it odd that Luna hasn't come back yet and hasn't sent any word?" she muttered.

"Yeah," Harry said shortly, trying in vain to keep his temper in check.

"I know. I've been thinking about it for quite some time as well. It doesn't make sense at all. My first thought was V-Voldemort but... the Order was positive he had left for Albania to take care of the you-know-what," said Hermione said in an undertone.

"You forget, Hermione... Voldemort doesn't have to be in London to inflict damage on us," Harry said darkly, his guts churning in what seemed like acid.

"Oh Harry... should we tell McGonagall? I mean, if you really think V-Voldemort has gotten to Luna."

"I just hope he didn't get to anyone aside from her too. I---"

Just then Ron came bounding into the seat on Harry's other side. His cheeks were pink with exhaustion and sweat was dribbling from his forehead. Harry eyes narrowed in exacerbated slits at the inexpedient interruption.

"So what have I missed?" he exclaimed brightly, his eyes darting from Hermione's irritable scowl to Harry's puzzled frown. His grin slowly fell and he seemed to be shrinking under his friends' less than happy expressions.

"Ron where have you been?" Hermione inquired tersely.

"McGonagall. My mum asked her to say stuff to me. Oh that woman, sometimes I wonder if---"

"McGonagall's here?" Harry interrupted, his eyebrows shooting up in interest despite of himself.

"Sure she is, mate. But the old maid's dead busy. She barely had time to tell me what she needed to say. She told me she'd be leaving for the ministry in a while or something."

"LEAVING?" Harry and Hermione cried out in unison. Professor McGonagall couldn't leave! Not now! Harry, got up in a flash, planning on making a dash for McGonagall's office. Maybe he'd catch the Headmistress in time before she departed?

"Is anybody going to fill me in on whatever's gotten you so high strung or will I have to beat it out of you?" Ron huffed, folding his arms across his chest.

Hermione sighed, reached out for Harry's wrist and pulled him resignedly back to his seat, "We have some explaining to do." She said simply.

Harry threw one more hesitant gaze at the doors of the Great Hall before letting Hermione coax him back into his seat, feeling as if the weight that had resided in his chest was doubling.

Professor McGonagall was gone for a total of three days and when she was back, she was unavailable for another two. There could be no talking to the woman. She was working doubly hard to fill the shoes Professor Dumbledore had left. Also, to make matters worse, there continued to be no word from Luna and Harry's anxiety was starting to get the better of him because of it.

He could not concentrate on his lessons properly, his appetite was waning and his temperament was worsening. He kept throwing hopeful glances at the great oak double doors of the Entrance Hall, hoping she'd be walking through them, ready to tell them what idiosyncrasies had kept her from joining them. Every time the Ravenclaws would join them for the meals inside the Great Hall, Harry instinctively searched their number for a pale-skinned girl with long, dirty-blonde hair.

Harry had already sent word to the Order, informing them about their concerns. They simply replied to them saying that they were keeping an eye on things and for Harry not to worry. Harry knew that the Order's sources were more than reliable but then again, it did nothing to quell the unrest in Harry's subconscious.

"Why, why can't I drop this?" Harry whispered to himself in one of his insomniac nights. He did not know that his question would be answered sooner than he had expected.

It happened during Charms that afternoon. It was a particularly dreary lesson that day and Harry's lack of sleep was getting to him. The corners of his vision were blurring. He began seeing double and his eyelids were drooping despite his efforts to try and keep them open. He cast a weary glance at Hermione whose quill was valiantly scratching away notes. She alone seemed immune to today's slumber-inducing lecture from Professor' Flitwick on the history and theory of spell invention.

He continued to focus his gaze on his friend's gentle quillwork, her fine strokes entrancing him. The sounds of the quill scratching on the parchment kept getting louder as he stared at its increasingly slowing movement. It was bobbing up and down... upp and doowwnn... its grating deafening, threatening to break his eardrums... uuppp and ddooowwwnnn... uuupppp and dddoooowwwwnnnn... uuuuppppp and ddddooooowwwwwnnnnn... he was screaming... time had completely stopped... he was screaming so loudly to try and drown out the one that was piercing his ears... his head was pounding... his ears throbbing... then everything blacked out.

It was as if he were on a stage with all the stage lights turned off. He knew he was in some sort of room. But his eyes weren't adjusted to this sudden bout of blackness that had enshrouded his vision. Indeed, he did not know if his sight had any power over what he could see for he did not know if he was dreaming or if he really was in some strange reality. Somehow, instincts told him he was in a room somewhere underground. He could hear a faint dripping on one corner, a few meters away from him. It was oddly stuffy like there was some sort of heating device somewhere around. He could hear struggling, muffled sobs and cries of agony a few steps away.

He took a step forward, his arms outstretched, trying in vain to feel his way around this unseen territory, and tripped over something left on the ground before him. There seemed to be all kinds of items strewn all over the floor. He lay flat on the mercifully cooler floor, closing his eyes; quietly dreading what would happen if he dared get up. But he decided to take his chances and got steadily off his feet. And when he opened his eyes again, he was taken aback by the scene that stood before him.

A whole basement had materialized right before his very eyes. There was a boiler on one side, emanating an orange-tinged glow, which thoroughly explained the heat. On another side, a leaking pipe was making puddles on the cement floor. There were shelves upon shelves of all kinds of tools and utilities and countless stacks of what appeared to be damp copies of The Quibbler. The only small window was boarded shut meaning that there was only one source of any light: the tiny light bulb swinging unreliably on a single rusted chain from the ceiling. Harry could hardly make out some of the parts of the room. And in those parts that remained swathed in darkness, he could hear what was unconsolingly like the squeaks of unwelcome rodents. Was it just him or were those squeaks getting louder? Was it just him or was sweat dripping down his back? Was it just him or was water soaking his shoes and into his socks? If this was indeed a dream... it felt uncomfortably real.

But there were more important things though, that quickly put these simple musings out of his mind. For there, in the middle of this underpinning was a pillar and tied to it was Luna Lovegood and her father. They were tightly bound and gagged. The ropes that adhered them seemed to be agonizingly cutting of their circulation enough to make it extremely harrowing but not enough to kill them. The gags that were knotted at the back of their heads were making the sides of their mouths bleed. Tears were shining in their terror-stricken faces.

Harry felt as if he had turned to ice in horror and shock. There were tremors on his skin and his eyes were popping. He was now quite sure that there was sweat forming on his temples. His body began to convulse. Where was he? What was this? Was it real? Could it be that Voldemort had succeeded to get past his Occlumency and were feeding him lies? Lies to get him to do something stupid?

There was a creaking sound behind him. The wheeled around in spite of himself and found that the door at the top of the wooden steps leading to the basement had opened. Then Harry felt oddly elated as a squat form of a man descended the steps with tall, pale- skinned figure. The pale one could not be called a man for he was so much more. He was the master and he was power. They're going to torture those people who were tied up, Harry found himself thinking with glee. Maybe he would finally be able to taste some flesh... real flesh. He was oh so hungry for it. And oh how he craved it. His master would not leave him unsatisfied for long. No, no, no, no... not for long...

Then as the two beings drew level with Harry, he seemed as though he was coming to. He was alarmed at what had taken over his perception and thinking just moments before. His scar was maddeningly painful and it was all Harry could do to stop himself from falling to his knees. It was Voldemort, plain as day. His cold red eyes contorted in playful malice, his snake-like nostrils breathing freely and his long, sharp fingers caressing a narrow strip of wood that almost seemed evilly alive, itching to inflict suffering and ill will. And there beside him, his faithful, vile servant, Wormtail. He seemed even more weather beaten and sickly looking than Harry last laid eyes on him. His watery eyes uneasy though his silver hand was glinting readily, clenched in a fist. Harry's scar exploded in the addition of the loathing that suddenly coursed through his veins. But he felt no worry of being found out. He knew that Voldemort knew nothing of his presence there.

This was not the first time Harry had unwittingly been given access into the happenings in Voldemort's life. He must've entered the thoughts of Nagini a while back but now, he was relieved to find out he had left it and was now seeing these goings on in the third-person view, as the snake slithered around its possible victims quite a few feet away from Harry.

"Let the girl speak, Wormtail... and conjure up some sandwiches and some drink. It's tea time, after all. We'd be rude not to feed our... guests?" Voldemort chuckled, trying to sound as if they were all seated round a quaint tea table in a beautiful orchard while tea was poured in gold-patterned china.

"Yes of course, Your Lordship," Wormatail nodded, waved his wand a few times and on his shining hand appeared a tray of food and refreshments. He set them down on the sodden floor (the squeaks in the room reaching fever pitch), bent down and ripped the cloth off Luna's mouth in one violent movement. She screamed in agony at the force of it, new tears making their way down her cheeks.

"Now, now, Wormtail, we must remember to be gentler with the ladies---good manners, you know," said Voldemort, his eyes glinting in sadistic pleasure.

If Wormtail heard this pronouncement, he showed nothing of it for he did not reply. He was busy keeping the rodents who were drawn out of their quiet corners by the smell of the sandwiches and cool lemonade, a good fair ways away.

"Hello, Luna. Here we are again, only an hour after my last visit, as I promised," Voldemort grinned, showing an array of threatening-looking incisors, casting his glance to Luna's father in particular. "I do hope you're ready to talk to me now?"

Luna had been sobbing freely before then but at those words, her eyes became slits of cold fury and she spat out the blood that had collected in her mouth at the Dark Lord's feet. "I told you, I don't know who are in the Order or their plans... and even if I did... I wouldn't tell you even if you offered me the thinksaps of all the Nurgs in the countryside!"

Voldemort looked slightly taken aback by Luna's last few words but soon took in the meaning of ones that came before it. He still showed no air of impatience though his eyes flashed dangerously. "Why do people of your sort have to be so atrociously difficult? I daresay our dear Harry Potter has talked to you often enough to give you some inkling of the Order's goings on? Just tell me and I will let you all go without another word, I promise! And you can finally dig into these delicious sandwiches after your... erm... long diet?"

Harry looked frantically at Luna, tears, sweat and blood dribbling from her face down to her robes, looking frightened but defiantly resolute. Then at her father, who probably would have echoed his daughter's emotions but it seemed as though most of his attention was being drained by the fresh, deadly looking snakebite near his ankle which there was a constant trickle of blood mixing with the water from the leaking pipe. He was screaming louder, getting steadily paler, his whole body drenched in sweat. Lastly, he looked at Wormtail who had receeded into the shadows, trying to shush his disgusting friends. Harry made to draw out his wand, curse the fiends and free the Lovegoods but he could not control his limbs. What could he do? Was there anything to be done? He felt despairingly helpless, hate and anger oozing out of his pores, his scar still painfully throbbing all the while.

"I don't know anything. He doesn't tell me anything!" Luna maintained firmly, though she seemed to be shaking now.

"Nagini biting your father wasn't enough, was it? He's going to die soon if you don't tell me anything, Nagini's venom is quite fast acting and it keeps his wound open---the potion I gave him to regulate its flow will not serve him for much longer. Come now, I can still reverse the effects of her venom," Voldemort offered politely. Harry almost swore that Voldemort looked straight at him. But Harry's attention was still more focused on Luna. She had turned away sorrowfully from the Dark Lord. He knew she was unwilling to sacrifice her father but equally unwilling to compromise the Order. Hang in there Luna! Harry thought frantically. Help---he had to call for help somehow! He tried focusing his thoughts toward McGonagall, Lupin, Tonks---anyone in the Order---trying to use Legilimency but then---

"Perhaps a bit of pain will loosen you up? You know, I didn't really want to do this, but you leave me with no choice," Voldemort smirked as if glad to find an excuse to administer throe, raised his wand to point at Luna who was now bathed in a frightened sweat and muttered, "Crucio!"

Harry's brain filled with her shrieks of anguish, the pain in his scar blinding and he felt himself screaming himself hoarse along with her. His emotions conflicted each other. One side felt downright ecstatic and the other dreadfully tormented. He was bursting, his head felt as though it were splitting open. The affliction was enough to kill him. His eyes were rolling madly and he was beginning to froth at the mouth. Somebody was shaking him, getting more forceful by the minute. Somebody was calling his name as well! Had Voldemort finally found him out? Was he about to be tortured and killed too? He couldn't---not now! He had to save them! He had to!

"HARRY! HARRY! SNAP OUT OF IT, HARRY! HARRY!"

At first all Harry could see was black then it began to abate into blurs. He now recognized the voice that was calling to him as if from a distance. It was Hermione's. It sounded enveloped in terror and shock. Then he realized she was in front of him, shaking him awake on the floor of the History of Magic classroom. Harry seemed to have fallen off his desk. He started to regain control of his body. He seized Hermione's shoulders and cried in a panic-stricken voice, "I know w-w-where L-Luna is---he's g-got her! We have to go see D-Dumbledore! NOW!" He threw all he had into the last syllable he uttered.

The people all around them who seemed to have been holding their breath broke their silence and began murmuring, covering the room in whispered chatter, no doubt alarmed by Harry's screams and his mentioning of the late Headmaster. Professor Flitwick had stopped mid-sentence on the pile of books he was standing on, at a loss of what to do. Harry knew by a look that the little man in front of him never had such a hitherto take place in his class before. There was no time to linger though. By the time Harry was done with speaking, Ron and Hermione had hauled Harry to his feet and began escorting him out of the classroom, making for the direction of the Headmaster's office.

"We're sorry Professor Flitwick but this is quite urgent!" Hermione managed to say before they were completely out of the doorway. Harry thought he heard Professor Flitwick mutter a dumbstruck, "O-Of course," before everything was swallowed up by the outburst of noise from the students.

They walked in perturbed silence most of the while, their slow footsteps echoing eerily around the empty hallways. Harry could feel the furtive glances of his friends upon him as they shouldered his half-dead weight. Harry felt so worn and wrung. Never in his whole life had his visions of Voldemort been so vivid. Could they have possibly been planted as was with the one he had about Sirius? Or real like the one that had saved Mr Weasley? He could not be wrong again. He would not take anymore stupid and uncalculated chances. If he were completely honest with himself, he wanted to barge into that basement as soon as he possibly could and deal with the Dark Lord himself, like he had done so many times before. But he had learned not to take such moves and he would not do it again. Not without proper aid by his side and this, sadly, did not mean Ron and Hermione.

"What did you see, Harry?" Ron muttered quietly as they made their way down a particularly deserted corridor. He seemed slightly apprehensive as though torn whether he should be asking such a thing of his best friend at this time.

Harry was tiredly dragging his feet along, it was arduous work even though Ron and Hermione were on each side of his, supporting probably most of his weight. He cast a weary glance at Ron, considering him for a while. "You can hear exactly what happened when I go tell Dumbledore. I don't care if McGonagall's not there now. It's Dumbledore we need."

"Oh, yeah. Of course," Ron grinned uneasily, his ears turning slightly scarlet.

"Sugar Quill," Hermione muttered clearly, taking Harry aback slightly that they were already in front of the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office. It sprang to life when Hermione said what was apparently the correct password, then leapt aside revealing the spiral stone staircase rising steadily up beyond their vision. "Come on!"

They stepped onto one of the moving steps and were slowly carried upwards until they faced wooden doors and the doorknocker in the form of a griffin. Hermione confidently grasped it and gave three short taps against the dark wood. Harry heard no noise from inside. How were they supposed to get in there now? Harry looked worriedly at his friends. He knew Dumbledore was there... but he just wasn't physically able to open doors anymore like he used to.

"Try again, Hermione," Ron said uneasily, trying to keep his voice steady and optimistic. Hermione rapped once more.

"Come on, open!" Harry pleaded, trying to push the doors open. They needed Dumbledore now more than ever.

Mercifully, after a couple more noisy attempts to force entry, the doors slowly opened to admit them and they entered into the handsomely furnished circular room that used to be Dumbledore's office. The odd sounds from the queer silver instruments and devices that occupied the shelves seemed oddly bothersome even through a great number of them had been put away through the course of this year.

Harry looked to the perch where Fawkes the Phoenix used to be. Harry wished he was still there now so that he could sing them a sliver of hope to comfort Harry's racing heart. But he was not there today. Ron and Hermione sat Harry down on one of the chairs in front of the Headmaster's desk, looking apprehensively around.

"I am... sorry to keep you waiting," said a voice from behind them. Dumbledore had suddenly appeared in a picture frame hanging on the wall, somewhere to their left. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. This figure moving within that canvas was merely an echo of what had been the real Dumbledore but Harry knew that even an echo, just as long as it was Dumbledore, would be more help to them than the combined forces of everyone else on earth.

"I assume you have come here to tell me something very important?" Dumbledore said quietly, his eyes twinkling.

Dumbledore kept his silence throughout Harry's narration all though he knitted his eyebrows together in some moments and his twinkle seemed to change into a blazing flame. Hermione and Ron on the other hand, were making their thoughts and reactions very audible indeed. There were times when Harry appreciated this but right now, it seemed quite more of a hindrance and it was very trying on his taut nerves. But when he finished, it was to an uneasy silence. Hermione was drying her eyes in a corner, Ron was shaking, and Dumbledore still kept his blue eyes on Harry though it seemed as though he was lost in thought.

"This does not do," he said after sometime. He got up and paced around his frame. "I have suspected this since McGonagall informed me of her first absence. Strange reports have been coming to the Order as of late warning me of this sort of an attack. But we had searched Luna's house many times---not often enough though, it seems. Well, I assure you that this will be dealt with immediately. But in the meantime, you must get back to your lessons. I will keep you informed."

"Wait, Professor... I need to ask you a few things," Harry said frantically, his grip tightening on the armrests of his chair. Dumbledore considered him for a few moments, then nodded his head for Harry to proceed.

"Do you think it's real this time?" He asked simply, searching Dumbledore's expression.

"I am hoping it is not, as one always does when one is faced with troubling news of this sort. Though as I said, it sadly fits into my suspicions," Dumbledore replied uncomfortably, looking down sadly.

There was silence for a while and Harry became aware that the other former headmasters were passing into each other's frame's, murmuring to each other. He had the wild urge to tear them all off the wall.

"Why Luna? She didn't know much of anything at all! It doesn't fit with his other attacks. If he wanted to get information, couldn't he just have captured another Order member like Mundungus? Couldn't he just use Legilimency?" Harry pressed on heatedly.

"It is not as easy as you think to capture one of our number. Mundungus was merely careless with his dealings, though I had warned him many times to take his steps more carefully. And yes, he could easily use Legilimency but... information is not what he really desires. I believe, Harry, he may have captured the Lovegoods for a different reason," Dumbledore looked up, his fiery blue eyes meeting Harry's bright green ones.

"And what reason could that be?" Piped in Hermione, her voice cracking.

Everyone turned and stared at her. Harry had almost forgotten Ron and Hermione were even there.

"As a warning move or a signal that the real war is about to begin. He has enough information; he has a strong enough foothold, and a sufficient following to more than rival ours. This is to get at us---possibly provoke us to enough anger to get us to play into his advantage. He is playing with us. That is why he allowed you to access to those visions again. I can think of nothing else for it. I am sorry to say it Harry but I think it is time for you to take another prolonged absence from school and find that last Horcrux. Time is tunning out." Dumbledore finished.

There was another stunned silence, but this time all the spectators could not find it in themselves to utter any sort of sound. It stayed this way for quite some time and the noise coming from the silver contraptions began to numb their eardrums.

"I think it is now time for you to take your leave? There will be enough time for questions on the next time Minerva calls for you," Dumbledore said finally after some time.

Harry hesitated for a few more moments. He wanted to be able to do something more, even if it meant just staying in this office doing nothing. He had to be there in case McGonagall came back---maybe he could convince her to take him straight to the Order! He couldn't just go back! But Hermione tugged him off his chair and urged him that they must leave. She was unnaturally forceful this time for some reason. He struggled but she would not let him go and Ron soon took Harry's other arm. Harry let out a cry of frustration and angrily let them steer him from the office.

He could not concentrate on anymore of his lessons after that, much to his teachers' chagrin nor could he sleep when night crept into replace the day. Ron and Hermione sat with him in the common room the whole night through, sitting in their usual places in front of the fire. They waited with him silently as the chamber slowly emptied of its unburdened occupants. Their gaze was often drawn to the portrait hole, thinking that any second now; Dumbledore may call them with his news. It was good that it was a weekend the next day. Harry could not endure a whole day's schoolwork with no sleep and with such air of vexation upon him.

They barely spoke. Indeed, they could find nothing much to say. There were occasional bits of conversation but they were quickly put out.

"She'll be all right, won't she, Harry?" Ron asked timidly at about three in the morning.

Harry hung his head. He did not know the reply to that inquiry, since he himself was asking the exact same question. The minutes trickled by so slowly that Harry sometimes wondered if time had simply forgotten to move forward. But despite all this, no sleep came over them. Worry had too much power over them and it intensified along with another strong emotion as time passed him by.

He felt the burning sensation to just throw caution to the winds, steal a pouch of Floo Powder and travel to Luna's fireplace. He did not know how he could possibly achieve this feat or what he would do when he did. There wasn't much to hope that Voldemort had only brought Wormtail along with him. But he had done it before. He had escaped their numerous ranks numerous times in the past. Surely, he could manage another escape of the sort? He was older, wiser and more experienced. He had to do something. He could not just sit here and wait. He made to get up and make a run for it. His adrenaline levels had shot up, egging him on but his mind was not yet overruled.

A voice somewhere inside of him was warning him not to tempt fate. Reminding him of what had happened on the occasions that he had let his inclinations to run away with him. He had lost many. Most importantly, he had lost Sirius. He sank back into his chair, defeated. Who would he lose this time? He gazed at his two friends who were sitting apprehensively in the couches next to him. He could not risk it. Not again.

Then at last, the night was lifting. No faint rays of the early morning sunshine had made their way through the glass panes of the common room but it was slowly getting there. It was at this time that Professor McGonagall clambered in to call them back to the Headmaster's office. Her face seemed grave and her eyes seemed thick with pent up emotion. Harry did not like the looks of this. He exchanged glances with his friends, who echoed his notions.

They followed Professor McGonagall's gait, eager to be put out of their misery. If only they knew then that they would just sink even deeper into its pit than being alleviated from it, maybe they may not have walked so quickly.

Dumbledore was looking even graver when they entered. He seemed much stressed, and deeply pained. He did not seem as though he was as eager to tell them what he had found out. But he knew he must and that is why he said the following words, "You must keep your heads when I tell you what I sadly need to tell you. I cannot allow for you to do what you did in your fifth year, Harry," he said, his gaze hardening on Harry's bright green eyes. "Luna was found less than half an hour after you came to me, the Dark Mark hovering above her home. She was suffering the tolls of a snake bite, though we found no sign of her father when we got there. We have reason to believe that he was completely devoured by the snake that administered the bite.

"A couple more Death Eaters had made residence in their household other than Wormtail and of course, Voldemort. So it proved wise that you did not give into your impulses again, Harry. I am just sorry that we had not gotten there sooner. Luna was still alive, but the liberal amounts of venom that was injected into her body in her weakened state worked against us. She had lost so much blood and since there was nothing administered on her before our arrival to stop the venom from spreading ...we lost her only a few hours after she was found."

As the memory came to a close Harry found that he was sobbing freely without him noticing. He gazed at the two headstones beside Luna's. It was that of her parents. One of them, of course, was empty except for a hundred or so pictures. Harry's tears were still fresh on the grass above Luna's grave.

Before he had anytime to dry the ones still making themselves down his cheeks or do or think much of anything at all, there were soft footsteps that stopped shortly beside him. The owner of the feet that made them, crouched down to his level and offered him her hand and said in a low voice, "Come with me. There is a chapter we must draw to a close."