Happy Christmas, Harry Potter

Author's Notes

It's been a while I know, mostly because I was stuck not knowing which
direction to take the story in, but now after some reflection and
discussion with the great Rashaka I've finally gotten the storyline on
track. Extra-special thanks to welsh_goddess for britpicking and

her help in getting this chapter off the ground!

~ Happy Christmas, Harry Potter ~

~ Part Two ~

Harry was in better spirits than he'd been in ages. Though the ride in the Knight Bus had been as harrowing as ever, Luna's presence had transformed it into an actually enjoyable experience; having the entire passenger compartment to themselves, Luna had come up with the idea of a rather chaotic triple-decker game of tag. Of course, given the bus's trademark wild manoeuvres, the pursuer ended up as often bowled over by the persuee.

All this meant they'd ended up with their fair share of bumps and bruises, to the point where Harry had expressed concern for Luna's healing wrist; Luna, strangely, had exhibited a mind-boggling lack of concern.

"Oh, it'll be fine...this is fun!" she laughed, a fraction of a second before striking Harry with an involuntary headbutt following one of the Bus' screeching stops.

Harry couldn't quite remember the sequence of events immediately following his being knocked halfway senseless; he did vaguely recall groggily picking himself off the floor and catching a glimpse of Luna scurrying up the narrow staircase to the bus' third deck, apparently having considered her accidental headbutt to have been a proper tag.

Harry was sore and aching all over by the time they'd disembarked. He was sure he'd wake up in the morning to find half a dozen bruises scattered over his body. Yet here he was, walking through shin-deep snow feeling strangely giddy: Luna had a decided knack for making the simplest things enjoyable.

She led him down a narrow country lane; Harry was struck at how she seemed to drift along the snow rather than trudge through it -- though she seemed to leave tangible enough footprints. Indeed, such was her meandering such that to anyone following it would seem as though she were wandering about aimlessly.

They'd both been silent since disembarking from the bus; normally Harry would feel a need to try and make conversation lest it turn into an awkward situation, but such was not the case with Luna. True, in her company he felt at times perplexed -- even occasionally bewildered, to be sure. But awkward...never. No, with Luna he was something else entirely. He was...

Comfortable, Harry finally realized. But then, convention being entirely inconsequential where Luna was concerned, Harry knew he needn't pretend to be anything other than himself.

And besides, Luna was in full wanderlust mode, even though it occurred to Harry that she'd must have come through this way countless times. But leave it to Luna to see something new on every occasion.

He gazed about the snow-blanketed trail. Lined on both sides by tall banks of gnarled hedgerows it formed a shallow, sheltered valley, shielding them from the prevailing winds.

"Nice place for a walk, this," he commented as he fell in beside Luna. "It's so quiet...how far does it go?"

"To our house, about a mile or so," chimed Luna happily as she strolled alongside. "Though it goes on for a ways after that. It's more of a boundary trail than a proper lane, really. The land on that side -- " she pointed to the left, " -- belongs to Orville MacLachlan; his family's been farming here for ages. That side -- " she pointed to her right, " -- used to be Crown land, until a local offended the fey folk and they determined never let Muggles settle there again."

She came to a stop and turned to Harry, a curious glean in her eye.

"Speaking of which, are you partial to gorillas?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, taken aback by the question. "Gorillas?" he asked. "Well, no -- I mean yes -- I mean..." He frowned slightly and thought the question over. "To tell you the truth, I've never really thought about them all that much," he finally concluded. "I've never seen one in person. Why, do you have one at home?"

Luna's eyes widened in surprise. "At home?" she repeated. "No, that wouldn't be right." She tilted her head slightly. "You do come up with the oddest questions, Harry!"

"Me?" countered Harry in disbelief as they started down the snow-blanketed road once more. "But you're the one who -- why did you ask me what I thought about gorillas, then?"

Luna strolled on, her arms swinging languidly. "It's always good to know that about someone," she said, her airy voice resolute. "They are our fellow primates, after all. And besides, we all know how they feel about the Ministry, especially since the Sasquatch scandal."

"Um..."

Luna readjusted her scarf. "But then, I suppose you can't be expected to form an opinion if you've never met one..."

"You'll have to put me down as an 'undecided'," suggested Harry.

"Done," said Luna musically.

Harry shuffled through the snow, nonplussed. Luna's explanation had made not the slightest sense to him; if there was some obscure logic behind it, he wasn't seeing it. Still, he was happy enough just to be spending the day with his unconventional friend, quirks and all; it had slowly dawned on him over the previous dark months just how much he truly valued his relationship with this girl, unusual though she was.

"How come the bus doesn't drop you off at the door?" he asked a little later as he wiggled his frigid toes. "It could squeeze through here, couldn't it?"

"It can't come this way," explained Luna, her long mane of hair slowly turning white with snow. "The lane is warded against any and all vehicles. It was Mum's idea -- she wasn't very fond of noisy Muggle technology, you see. And it does make for nice walks."

Harry nodded, stuffing his chilly hands in his pockets. He'd previously noticed there were no vehicle tracks in the snow; other than a single, fading line of footprints heading the opposite way (undoubtedly Luna's from earlier that morning), there was no indication of any human activity at all. Several rabbit tracks, a few tiny prints that might've belonged to a squirrel or hedgehog -- they seemed to be the limit of the local inhabitants.

Harry sighed; it was a peaceful place, almost idyllic in its solitude. It was quiet enough that he could hear the crunch of snow underfoot as readily as his own breathing; it wasn't hard to understand why Luna enjoyed her strolls down this way. His fingers, however, were starting to get painfully cold, his coat pockets far from providing ideal insulation. He stuffed his hands under his armpits in an effort to warm them.

"I've noticed you don't carry mittens," said Luna out of the blue as they passed by a small wooded hill overlooking the road. "Are you an oviphobe?"

"No, I just forgot them," answered Harry. He frowned at the unfamiliar word. "Oviphobe?"

"Fear of sheep," said Luna, treading briefly into her old tracks before sidestepping.

"What, there's such a thing?" asked Harry.

"Oh yes," explained Luna, her silver eyes widening as they did whenever she was discussing matters of interest. "In some instances an afflicted person can't abide anything made from wool. Colin Creevey's a particularly acute case."

Harry did a double take. "Colin's afraid of...wool?"

Luna nodded. "His scarf had to be fashioned from polyester," she recounted. "In our Defence Against the Dart Arts classes a few years ago his Boggart was an ewe."

A thought occurred to Harry; if anything, he needn't worry about getting lectured from Luna. "Say, can I ask you something?" he said, coming to a stop.

Luna did likewise, a curious expression drawing upon her pale features.

"I've been having a bit of a problem..."

"Yes," said Luna knowingly. Harry blinked.

"It's just...has she said anything to you?"

"Has who said anything to me?"

Harry bit his lip. The last thing he wanted was to drag Luna into a situation that was not of her doing; it was quite enough that she was helping Hermione with the Horcrux research --

"I..."

But Luna had seemed to sense his predicament. "If you mean Ginny, no, she hasn't," she said serenely. "But she's been in a bit of a funk lately, so I rather gathered."

Harry nodded, deciding it would be best to keep the conversation away from specifics, lest Luna become inadvertently imbroiled.

"Why do girls...I mean, can you tell me why is it..."

Harry took a deep breath and rubbed his throbbing temple.

"What I mean is, how come what they say and what they mean...arrghh..."

"Aren't always the same thing?" finished Luna helpfully.

"Exactly!" exclaimed Harry. "I mean -- no offence," he hastened to add.

"None taken," breezed Luna, instantly resuming her airy demeanour. "I've noticed that myself, actually. But as to why, well...I suppose it's one of those great mysteries, isn't it?"

It suddenly struck Harry; if there was one girl in the universe who invariably spoke the plain and simple truth, without ambiguity or hidden meanings, he was looking at her. He was hardly surprised, therefore, that she was just as mystified by the concept as he was.

Difference was, she didn't dwell on it.

He decided not to press the matter. "Thanks," he said, smiling. "I guess it's the kind of question no one can answer, isn't it?"

Luna leaned close. "There's a lot of those," she said seriously, nodding.

They resumed their walk through the snow, Luna moving erratically about as she tried to catch the slowly falling flakes on her tongue, with mixed success.

Harry smiled inwardly; there was such an appealingly simple innocence to Luna, one that contrasted starkly with the convoluted world around her. Harry found himself wishing he could withdraw into Luna's world, even if just for a day or two.

"Here we are," she announced a while later; the path continued on as far as Harry could see through the thickly falling snow, but there were no houses to be seen.

"Where're we -- "

But Luna was indicating for him to follow her straight into the towering hedgerows, which to Harry now loomed especially prickly with their myriad branches and thorn bushes, just waiting to snag any would-be interlopers.

But Harry needn't have worried. Luna plunged resolutely on, leading the way down a well-concealed tunnel through the earthen bank. He smiled ruefully; It reminded him very much of the short passageway to the Gryffindor Common Room back at Hogwarts, though here the walls were formed by massive stone lintels, not bricks and mortar. He ran his hand along the smooth bluestones; whoever had erected them had done so ages ago, their surface obviously weathered by the passing of centuries.

"Hey, this is different," he said appreciatively as he ran his hand along the worn stone, wondering as to the identity of those who had once hewn it from solid rock. "Bronze age, isn't it? Is it original, or -- ?"

"Yes to both," affirmed Luna as she emerged into the comparative brightness of the far side. Harry noted how the light and accumulated snow had conspired to give her a decidedly ethereal appearance; it was, he thought as he rubbed his nose, not at all disaggreable.

He took in his new surroundings. They were in the midst of a winter-worn meadow accentuated by shrivelled wildflowers and wild shrubberies. A soft trickling gave away an unseen nearby stream. To Harry's left an old log fence drew off alongside a slight depression in the snow that led towards what he presumed to be Luna's home.

Harry estimated the windmill to be a good sixty feet in height, not counting the slightly tattered blades. How it had managed to escape his detection from just beyond the hedgerow he couldn't imagine. The base was made of heavily weathered, though clearly stout, stonework; there were elements in its architecture that suggested to Harry a different origin than that of a windmill.

"Wow," he said as they approached, observing the slowly turning iron whirligig atop the pinnacle. "This place looks like it's had quite a history."

"It was built as a hermitage originally," said Luna, shaking the worst of the snow from her hair. "The mill came later, during the Tudors if I'm not mistaken. I didn't suppose you'd recognize it after all this time."

That last statement stunned Harry. He turned to face her, confused. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I've never been here before."

"Sure you have," replied Luna assuredly. "The night after your parents were killed. Professor Dumbledore brought you here for safekeeping for a few hours, until he could make arrangements with your relatives. Daddy told me so."

Harry was dumbstruck He'd spent a night at the Lovegood's and he was only finding out now?

"Seriously?" he queried, knowing full well Luna wouldn't lie to him. "I...I don't remember..."

"Well, that's to be expected," said Luna. "Memories at that age are such flighty things, aren't they? Or maybe a Wrackspurt -- "

"Do you remember any of it?"

Luna slowly shook her head. "No, I was at St. Mungo's at the time," she said. "So we never properly met. At least, not until that day on the train."

"St. Mungo's?" repeated Harry, recalling the old wizarding hospital back in London. "What were you doing there? Were you sick?"

"No," said Luna, smiling slightly. "I was getting born."

"Getting -- "

The sheer irony struck Harry like a mallet. For as long as he could remember Hallowe'en had symbolized a tragic ending in his life -- he'd never imagined that it could one day be a harebringer for something altogether more pleasant.

"Well, shall we go...in, then?" suggested Luna, pausing slightly as the sight of Harry's blatant stare. "I'd like to check if Daddy's sent any owls..."

It took Harry a moment to register the question.

"Oh...sure, by all means..."

Luna held the door open for Harry (which, he noted, hadn't seemed locked), and he eagerly strode into the relative warmth of the entryway. taking his hands out from under his armpits. He'd just taken his hands out from under his armpits and turned to Luna when he noticed her eyes widen precipitously.

"What's -- "

He felt more than saw the spell strike him. The intense flash disoriented him before he experienced a strange, momentary sensation of floating about in mid-air, quickly followed by a searing, head-splitting pain the likes of which he'd never fathomed possible. And then, finally, darkness.