Harry Potter and the House of Meditation

Chapter Five: Where Do We Go From Here?

The term seemed to pass quickly. The seventh year students, preparing to take their N.E.W.Ts were crushed with work. And every few weeks the Prophet reported another mysterious death. Harry was getting to the point where he dreaded seeing the paper, wondering what he would have to read next, and how helpless it would make him feel.

Ron and Hermione tried to give Harry as much attention as possible, as much as he appreciated it, and as happy as he was for them in general, he still felt like a third wheel in their company. The same thing happened when he spent time with Ginny and Dean. Dean was putting quite a lot of effort into his art projects, anyway, determined to prove himself to the Weasley family.

Luna had confided to Harry that Dean had already approached her father about joining the Quibbler as an assistant art director, after graduation.

"Would your dad hire him?" Harry had asked.

Luna shrugged. "Maybe. The magazine has been doing loads better the last couple of years, but I don't know if it's doing well enough for them to be hiring. They just have my dad as editor-in-chief, an articles editor, one art director and a photography director right now."

"At least Dean's thinking about the future." Harry wished he could do the same.

Neville and Harry had grown a lot closer over the years, but Neville had decided to be a healer, and needed top grades. Harry had never seen Neville work so hard outside of the D.A. and he wondered if Neville knew Bellatrix Lestrange was now being hidden by the order. In spite of her usefulness, Harry knew Neville would see it as a betrayal.

The fact that Harry still had Luna was very, very helpful, but he didn't know exactly what to do about her. After Remus Lupin and Sibyll Trelawney had both caught them kissing, he had tried to keep their friendship light, but it was proving difficult. Harry, who had spent his whole childhood starved of physical affection, thought he'd gotten used to doing without, but lately he had developed a strange craving for touch. And Luna Lovegood, who thought nothing of giving him a hug or kiss whenever she got the chance, was feeding that need, leaving Harry confused. He was starting to depend on her more and more, and he had never been able to depend on anyone but himself before. He wasn't sure if Luna's devotion was good or ill-advised.

Once as they were lying on the grass out by the lake, watching the giant squid move casually across, Harry suddenly sat up.

"Luna, why didn't you ever tell me you were related to Professor Trelawney?"

" I never thought about it," Luna answered calmly. "It's not a very close connection. All wizarding families are related if you go back far enough."

Well, I know that, but..."

"But what? Why do you ask?" Luna looked at him unperturbed, her eyes sparkling like crystal.

"She saw me kiss you goodnight the day we went to the Shrieking Shack. She said something about us being able to trust each other."

"I hope you trust me. I've trusted you since I first spoke to you. You're a good person, Harry."

"I trust you, Luna. You're my best friend." And Harry, startled, realized he truly meant it, but he was still concerned about her getting so close to him. He could not forget for a moment that he was doomed to become a murderer or a victim, and he was well aware of the effect that might have on his friends.

"I've been getting along with Trelawney better since she quit telling everyone I was on the verge of dying," Harry admitted, "but it still embarrasses me when she says mad things about me. Once in fifth year, she said I was going to grow up to be Minister of Magic, and that I'd have twelve children."

"That's pretty silly, even for Cousin Sibyll," Luna said serenely. "I don't think we've ever had a minister in the history of magic that even got shagged twelve times in his whole life. They're usually pretty stodgy."

Harry looked back out at the lake quickly. He was blushing and trying not to laugh at the same time.

When everyone else went home for Christmas, Harry stayed at school alone for the first time. Dumbledore found him one day, sitting alone looking moodily at the fluttering fairies decorating one of the Christmas trees in the Great Hall.

Even the beautifully illustrated book Luna had given him for Christmas, on the history of the Quidditch World Cup, had not cheered him up much. He had sent her a huge box of Honeyduke chocolates, and he was hoping very much that she was enjoying her vacation more than he was.

"You are troubled, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, gently.

"Of course I'm troubled!" Harry said, exasperated. "I need answers, Professor."

"And I have none to give you. Try and be patient for awhile longer, Harry."

"How many deaths will it take until the Order realizes that too many people have died?"

But Dumbledore had no answer to that question, either.

Harry spent a lot of time over the holiday walking alone on the Hogwarts grounds, and prowling the streets of Hogsmead. He would walk until he was numb with cold, but he could never manage to numb his feelings. He'd then get a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, or a coffee at one of the small restaurants, and sit alone by a window for hours watching the snowflakes fall, waiting for whatever was going to happen next