Luna's year

"LUNA!! LET GO!!"

Harry shook his arm in desperation. If he could just break away, Luna just might have a chance -

It hit him with the force of a rogue bludger. He felt the creature's powerful talons seize his arm as an eagle would snatch up a hapless field mouse, its hold on him painfully tight as he jerked up violently. Luna was likewise drawn up, as she was still determinedly clinging to his other hand.

To Harry's surprise, the beast almost immediately released its hold, causing him to fall back awkwardly onto the tower rooftop, his frantic flailing knocking over one of the telescopes. Luna crashed down beside him, her grip broken at last by the sheer force of the impact.

Harry took only a moment to recover, scrambling to his feet. The shadowy form of the large creature was flapping its wings rapidly, sending gusts of wind and snow blowing through Harry's dishevelled hair. It slowly settled itself down on the other side of the tower across from him.

Harry quickly pulled his wand from his robes while trying to make out this strange beast before him. It hadn't attacked him, against all expectations, though he dared not lower his guard.

It looked somewhat familiar, now that he could see its general shape more clearly. It almost looks like...could it be? He thought.

He took a tentative step towards the large beast. "Uh...Buckbeak?"

The animal did not react. Its rider climbed down, standing aside his mount for a moment, gazing at Harry.

Though Harry could only detect a faint outline, there was a familiarity to the figure. Harry's eyes widened. It...it can't be!

But then, the last time he'd seen Buckbeak was at Grimmauld Place, when his Godfather was still alive. Harry took another halting step towards the figure.

"S-Sirius?!?" he stammered.

"Oh, it is you, Harry," a familiar voice intoned, the figure patting the flank of his mount affectionately. "I guess I should've figured as much, when I saw you hanging there. What exactly were you doing, anyway?"

"Lumos," uttered Harry, his wand lighting up brilliantly, bathing the tower rooftop in a soft light.

The familiar face of Remus Lupin came into view as he reached up and drew back

the hood of his cloak. "Good lord, you're a mess!" he said, laughing, as he glanced at Harry's torn sleeves. Harry noticed Lupin still wore his old dilapidated coat; evidently having been appointed Minister of Magic hadn't gone to his head.

"Oh, by the way," continued Lupin, "you dropped something as I was coming in. It looked like - yep, there it is, see?"

He'd moved to the tower's edge and was peering over the battlements at Luna's glowing wand lying half-buried in the snow down below. "Is that a wand?"

"Uh, yeah," said Harry, "it's Luna's." He had a myriad questions he wanted to pose to his former teacher -

He turned back to Luna only to find her lying in the exact spot where she'd fallen, unmoving. "Luna? Are you - "

A chill quite above and beyond the wintery season's shot through him. He bounded back to her, aghast at the sight of a pool of blood slowly permeating the snow around her head. He dropped to his knees, being only vaguely aware of Lupin summoning up Luna's wand behind him.

"NO!!"

He turned her over onto her back, immediately detecting a very bad cut on her right temple where she'd impacted with great force, likely on some hard corner of the brass telescope they'd fallen over.

"Harry??" called out Lupin as he quickly made his way over to him. "Oh, Merlin's - Buckbeak, stay here!" he called back to his mount before kneeling down and picking up the young Ravenclaw in his arms, a Mobilicorpus charm being unnecessary as she was quite light.

"The infirmary, Harry, hurry. Open the doors for me, will you?"

They rushed her down to the Hospital Wing, passing Ernie MacMillan in the main hall, on one of his prefect patrols. As Harry had been in the lead, he'd at first asked him what he was doing out after curfew, but the sudden unexpected sight of the Minister of Magic carrying a seriously injured student provoked an immediate change in mindset. He quickly stepped aside and followed along quietly.

Madam Pomfrey had ordered them all out of the Hospital Wing, though not before Tonks had begged Lupin to get her an early release. Harry had protested loudly about having to leave Luna's side, only finally agreeing to do so when the nurse had informed him that she was in no longer in any danger, and needed a good night's rest.

"What was that all about?" asked Ernie the moment they'd closed the door behind them, eyeing Harry curiously. "Are there Death Eaters around??"

"No," answered Harry rather tiredly, suddenly feeling quite exhausted, "I - she - well, it's a long story..."

Ernie nodded, but gave no sign of leaving. Lupin seemed to clue in on Harry's reluctance to go into details, giving a slight cough.

"Well, if you'll excuse us," he said, to Harry's relief. "We really must be off to see the Headmaster. He'll be waiting."

"Oh!" exclaimed Ernie upon being addressed by the Minister of Magic. "Yes, of course, please, don't let me, er - " he stepped aside hurriedly, backing into the wall and hitting his head painfully on the base of an iron sconce.

They marched off, Tonks waiting until they were out of earshot before turning to Harry, maintaining her brisk pace. "What were you doing up there, by the way? Practising some sort of spell?"

"No, I just slipped," said Harry. "I thought Buckbeak was a - well I didn't really know what to make of him. He looked a bit like a small dragon in the dark. Anyway, I hope she's going to be all right..."

He glanced back over his shoulder in the direction of the Hospital Wing, though they were well out of sight of it now.

"Don't worry," said Lupin reassuringly. "Poppy's seen a lot worse, I can tell you. Your friend might have a bit of a headache come morning, but she'll be fine."

Harry truly wanted to allow himself to be soothed by Lupin's words. But the sight of Luna lying in a pool of her own blood had imprinted in his mind, and was still sending shivers down his spine. The knowledge that she was in no danger did little to ease his worry.

"A dragon, you thought?" asked Lupin a while later. "Well, I know Charlie Weasley's working really hard with them in Romania, but we're still nowhere near being able to ride them, you know. Mad-Eye says it's hopeless: 'You can't do anythin' with 'em!' he keeps telling me."

Harry allowed himself a smile at Lupin's rather good imitation of Mad-Eye Moody's growling speech.

"Hey, what are you doing here, anyway?" asked Harry suddenly. With everything that had just transpired, he'd quite managed to overlook the fact that Remus Lupin had appeared at Hogwarts riding Sirius' former mount. "I mean, I'm really glad you came when you did, but I wasn't expecting - "

"Oh, well, I got an owl from Dumbledore this morning," said Lupin. "We could have spoken through the floo network, I suppose, but we thought it best if you were there. And besides, Buckbeak needed his exercise. I hadn't taken him up for a few days; I never realized how much maintenance a hippogriff needed, let me tell you."

"You want me at that meeting? Shouldn't you be talking to Luna? It's about her father's disappearance, isn't it?"

"Well, yes," admitted Lupin, turning into the long, vaulted corridor that bordered the inner courtyard, the entrance to Dumbledore's office beckoning at the far end. "We wanted both of you there, actually. But I hadn't anticipated finding her... well, unconscious, when I got here."

Harry's face reddened. He felt bad enough as it was. Luna's stubborn refusal to let go had made him all too aware of the potential repercussions of his rash actions. He was the only reason she was laid up in a hospital bed at this very moment, after all.

"Well, you'll have to fill her in later," continued Lupin before pausing in the corridor. He rummaged through his old coat and pulled out Luna's wand. He seemed to consider it briefly before handing it to Harry. "And you can give this back to her for now, anyway."

He resumed his march, Harry and Tonks scambling to catch up.

"What do you mean, for now?" Harry asked, putting the wand away in his robes.

Lupin paused again. He turned to look at Harry and seemed about to explain, then evidently thought better of it. "Well...Dumbledore knows more about it than I do," he said. "I think it's best if he explained it."

I hope so, Harry thought, recalling how the Headmaster had been reluctant to share information with him the previous year. Of course, that mas partly mitigated by Harry being an unwitting eye for Voldemort, but still! He'd wondered all throughout the following summer, with lingering anger and resentment, if Sirius might have met a different fate had Harry known everything.

They resumed their march, the stone gargoyle looming closer.

"Hey, I just realized," said Harry, "Buckbeak isn't under sentence of death anymore?"

Lupin looked sideways at him. "You think I would've let that judgement stand?" he said, "That was one of the first things I repealed when I took office. That, and change the carpeting; Merlin only knows what went on in that office. Anyway, that was all Umbridge's doing. About Buckbeak, I mean. She's the one who petitioned the Wizengamot on behalf of Lucius Malfoy a couple of years ago, though I imagine you didn't know that little fact. She has quite the prejudice against magical creatures and...half-breeds."

Harry glanced at Lupin, knowing he didn't much care for the term. Though he wasn't technically a 'half-breed', the term had been used by Umbridge and others to persecute all lycanthropes during Fudge's reign of mismanagement.

"Anyway, Sirius bequeathed him to me in his testament," Lupin continued. "Which reminds me, I'll have to talk to you about that..."

Harry wondered what Lupin could possibly be referring to; so far as he knew, Sirius had been quite destitute, having escaped from Azkaban with little more than the clothes on his back. Of course, he'd inherited Grimmauld Place, but still. The place served as the Headquarters of the Order and little else.

In any event, Harry didn't want any more money. He already had plenty from his parents, and he'd never outgrown his deep-rooted discomfort about spending their galleons on himself.

They reached the end of the long hall and stood before the granite gargoyle. Harry noticed Lupin was looking rather embarassed.

"Well, this is a fine pickle," said Lupin sheepishly. "I can't remember the password. I knew I should have brought along Dumbledore's note."

All three looked at each other hopefully. It took only a moment for them to realize that none knew the password.

"Well...'Sherbert Lemon'," suggested Harry. Maybe he re-uses them after awhile, he thought. The resolutely unmoving gargoyle told him otherwise.

"There should really be a doorbell here," said Tonks wishfully.

They tried a few more passwords, when suddenly the stone gargoyle began to rotate. Harry prepared to hop aboard but held off when he saw the statue was spiralling downwards. Someone was coming down form the Headmaster's office.

The staircase came to a stop; they were greeted by Professor McGonagall, who barely batted an eye at finding them standing around the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

"Well, what are you all standing around here for?" she said as she eyed them. "You're a bit late to serenade me with a holiday choir, I should think! Very well, come along then. You too, Mr. Potter, I was just about to fetch you and Miss Lovegood."

"Actually Professor, she's indisposed at the moment," said Lupin, saving Harry the trouble of having to explain how the Ravenclaw had ended up in the hospital wing. McGonagall raised an eyebrow but made no comment, instead turning around to face the staircase.

"Argyle socks," she then uttered, as the stairs began moving upwards once more.

They all clambered aboard the rotating stone staircase as it carried them to the upper level, until they came to stand before the massive oak doors that led to Dumbledore's office. Harry heard the muffled voices of what he assumed must be the various portraits in the midst of one of their late night discussions. At McGonagall's knock, the voices died away quickly, as the doors opened silently on their own.

Professor Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, two plush chairs before it currently occupied by Snape and Flitwick; a third empty chair Harry guessed had been McGonagall's. A small silver pendulum stood on the centre of the desk, obviously of some importance to the matter being discussed, but as to its significance Harry couldn't even hazard a guess. He glanced up as he entered the short arched entryway leading into the circular office, noting the numerous portraits of previous Headmasters lining the walls were all busily feigning sleep, though Harry knew very well by now it was all an act, of course. He supposed though, that he preferred they maintain the act as opposed to having them all openly ogling him.

"Back so soon, Professor McGonagall?" said Dumbledore, just before catching sight of the rest of the group behind her. "Ah, Remus, Harry..."

Dumbledore stood and beckoned them in. "Do enter, please. Miss Tonks, I'm particularly pleased to see you up and about."

"Well, thanks," said Tonks. "I could've gotten out a lot sooner if it wasn't for Madam Pomfrey though; I swear she still thinks I'm a student! I'd still be there if Remus hadn't come along when he did."

"Well, Poppy's quite protective of her charges," said Dumbledore, giving a tiny flick of his wand as three more large plush chairs appeared out of thin air around his desk, "A practice I'm not verily inclined to discourage, especially of late." He indicated for his new guests to take their seats, then seemed to hesitate a moment, looking about his office.

"I see Miss Lovegood is not present," he observed, looking to McGonagall. "This concerns her a great deal."

"She's, er, in the hospital wing," ventured Harry, seeing Fawkes on his perch behind the desk eyeing him curiously.

McGonagall snapped her head around sharply. "She's where??" she asked, her severe gaze causing even Lupin to look slightly embarrassed. "You said she was indisposed, as I recall, Mister Lupin. What precisely happened, may I ask, to land her in the infirmary?"

Harry sighed. He supposed he'd have to explain it eventually anyway. "We were outside, on top of the Astronomy tower," he said wearily. "I slipped over the side, and she tried to keep me from falling over. Anyway, Buckbeak kept us from falling, but when he dropped us she banged her head pretty badly on a telescope..."

"Don't worry," interjected Lupin quickly at the sight of McGonagall's shocked expression, "Madam Pomfrey said she'll be fine after a good night's rest. I just didn't think it would be good for her to be here, considering."

"Ah, yes, of course," said Dumbledore as he seated himself. "Well, it is perhaps best she not be burdened this night, in that event. You are all aware buy now, I trust, of the disappearance of her father, Andrew Lovegood?"

Once he'd ascertained that everyone indeed had, the Headmaster reached into his star-speckled lavender robes and withdrew a slightly crumpled parchment, setting it on the desk before him.

"Very well. Early this afternoon," he continued, "this message was delivered by owl to the Ravenclaw girl's dormitory. Although I must reiterate my disapproval of the opening of personal mail by one's fellow students, it was perchance fortuitous in this particular instance. The contents of the letter compelled the student in question to bring it to the attention of Professor Flitwick, who immediately thereupon entrusted it to me."

Dumbledore's gaze fell upon Harry. "It is, perhaps fortunate," he said gently, "that Miss Lovegood cannot be here at this time."

Harry's pulse quickened. A sense of dread quickly spread through him. Had there been some news? Did they find her father, then? Was he...

"This is a demand," continued Dumbledore heavily, "from none other than the Dark Lord himself. It is addressed to Miss Lovegood, and proposes an exchange of her wand in return for her father's life."

Tonks gasped. Harry's stomach threatened to seep out his toes.

"Headmaster," said Snape quietly, after several moments of shocked silence, "you are, of course, aware of the danger that wand could pose were it to come into the Dark Lord's possession?"

Harry's ire immediately rose to the surface. He couldn't believe that any teacher, even Snape, would be so quick to condemn Luna's father to death.

"It's not your decision!" he blurted out hotly. "She's not even in your House! You can't - "

"Mr. Potter!" warned McGonagall. "Please control yourself!"

Harry felt Tonk's reassuring hand on his shoulder, as he and Snape exchanged glares. "We cannot allow sentimentality to cloud our judgement," said Snape coldly before turning back to Dumbledore. "In any event, it's more than likely the man is already dead; we daren't assume the Dark Lord would be one to keep his word."

Harry felt a powerful urge to rise from his chair and punch the Potions Master in the face, but Tonk's hand was both comforting and restraining. She was no doubt well aware of the ire between the two.

"While I agree," stated Dumbledore sagely, "of being wary of allowing our sentiments to dictate our actions, I also must emphasize that the ultimate decision on this matter can only be made by Miss Lovegood herself."

Harry felt a different kind of emotion running through him now; putting such a burden on Luna's shoulders was unthinkable. "But Professor," he blurted, "you can't ask her to - I mean - "

"Precisely my point," interrupted Snape. "The child will be quite unable to make a prudent decision given the stakes, and will undoubtedly choose to save her father regardless of the potential consequences."

"We really shouldn't jump to any conclusions," Flitwick chimed in with his squeaky voice. "While there is a certain - perception - among the student body that Miss Lovegood is rather...'detached' from reality, nothing is further from the truth. She is both very cognisant and well aware of all that goes on around her. We should not assume anything concerning her decision."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Naturally," he said. "Which is why I've asked Minister Lupin to - "

"Please," said Lupin, putting up his hands deferentially, "not the 'M' word."

"Of course," amended Dumbledore smoothly. "I've asked Remus to help us devise a third option."

"You intend a rescue mission, Headmaster?" asked Snape doubtfully.

"If one were possible, yes, of course," said Dumbledore. "That would be one option. Although I must confess that I am quite at a loss as to where Mr. Lovegood may be being held. All I have tried has come up rather short, I'm afraid. I am under the impression that he may be being kept at an unplottable location. As far as I am aware, Mr. Lovegood left for Germany using the Floo hub at the Main Ministry terminal, is that correct?"

"That's right," said Lupin. "The records show that he used the Continental European branch of the International Floo Hub, at just past one in the afternoon on the twenty-first of last month."

"And that," said Dumbledore gravely, "are his last known whereabouts. He was intending to proceed to Leipzig to help administrate a testament for some distant relatives, if I recall correctly. That, I am afraid, are the only facts known to us to this point."

"Can't you - " started Harry, suddenly becoming aware of everyone's eyes on him. His discomfort increased as he realized he was the only student present in this entourage. Nevertheless, he pressed on, the thought of Luna lying in the hospital wing spurring him on.

"Can't you start looking around Leipzig, then? I mean, if that's where he was last seen..."

Lupin smiled sadly at him. "Oh, don't worry, Harry," he said. "We've got Ministry officials and members of the Order snooping around over there right now. But the fact is, I doubt very much they'd make the mistake of holding him anywhere near where he allegedly disappeared."

"That is indeed most unlikely," agreed Dumbledore. "However, we may as yet uncover some inadvertent clue that may aid us. We must not give up hope during this time, Harry. Professor Flitwick," he said, turning to the Charms teacher, "tomorrow morning, if Miss Lovegood has recovered sufficiently, I shall like to pay her a visit."

"Er..." said Harry hesitantly. Dumbledore wasn't going to dump all this on Luna's shoulders, was he? She'd already suffered through a truly terrible day; Harry hated to think what this news would do to her.

"Yes, Harry?" said Dumbledore.

"Professor," he began, "do you think it's a good idea, I mean, to...well, she's been through so much already - "

"She must be told, Harry," said Dumbledore gravely. "If not tomorrow, then certainly soon. The letter indicated that should there be no reply by the next new moon, Mr. Lovegood's life would then be forfeit."

"I...I understand that," said Harry. "It's just...could you let me tell her? She's going to be very upset, I don't want her to be hit by a ton of bricks - "

"I was hardly going to do that, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I am rather fond of Miss Lovegood myself. But I believe I understand your wish, and shall let you proceed as you see fit."

"Thank you," said Harry after a moment, genuinely surprised that no one had objected. Then again, having to tell anyone such terrible news was not something to be envied.

"Very well then," nodded Dumbledore. "Off you go."

Harry blinked. Was that it? They weren't going to discuss their plans in front of him? What, did Dumbledore think he was still serving as Voldemort's eyes? But he hadn't had a single nightmare since the start of the semester! And he'd completed his Occlumency lessons successfully, so why was he being asked to leave?

"Is there something you wished to add, Mr. Potter?" asked McGonagall after he'd remained unmoving in his chair for several moments.

"Er...no," he said, rising from his chair. He just wanted to listen, couldn't they understand that?

"Well, goodnight, then," he said reluctantly.

As he was making his was back through the short hall leading to the stone gargoyle, Harry caught sight of a familiar figure clad in green and silver robes moving from portrait to portrait, following him as he went.

"What are you looking at?" asked Harry just as he reached the large oak doors leading out.

"Well, aren't we in a bit of a snit?" said Phineas Nigellus, raising an eyebrow slyly. "I thought it was rather obvious, seeing as you're the only one standing there. But then, you're a Gryffindor, aren't you? Brave, perhaps, but not exactly known for their brains, are they? And from what I've been gathering around here, it seems you've gotten you and your friends in quite a mess of prickly situations lately."

Harry felt his temper rising. He didn't need to be lectured about the danger he'd put his friends though, especially from a portrait! He'd kicked himself quite enough, thank you very much.

"Look, just...bugger off, why don't you?" Harry shot up hotly at the former Headmaster.

Nigellus gave a greatly exaggerated look of shock. "Well, that certainly put me in my place," he said dryly. "I only hope I can recover from that devastating rebuke someday."

"Do you have a point?" Harry asked brusquely. "Or are you just here to irritate me?"

"Goodness, not much for the social niceties, are we?" said Nigellus, rubbing his goatee pensively between thumb and forefinger. "You know, if you'd been a student in my day, you'd have gotten detention for that. But then, children your age were so much better behaved back then. Ah, how I miss the Victorian age."

"I'm not a child!" protested Harry, his anger building up dangerously. "I'm - oh, forget it, I'm leaving!"

He pulled open the double doors and descended the staircase.

He'd gotten about halfway down the hall before hearing Nigellus' familiar sarcastic voice emanate from one of the paintings along the wall. "You know, it's very easy to see how your impetuousness keeps landing you in trouble. After all - "

"Listen!" said Harry, turning on his heel. "Are you going to follow me all the way back to Gryffindor tower?"

"And he's rude, to boot," said Nigellus, addressing an old alchemist working over a myriad collection of colourful beakers and potions. "I wonder why Dumbledore - "

"Oh, that's it!" said Harry, reaching up and turning the magically floating portrait around to face the wall. Nigellus casually strolled into the next portrait to his right, the princess therein hastily making room for him.

"Well, that was extremely clever," said Nigellus. "That positively stumped me, I must say. Would have confounded even the brightest Ravenclaw, I should think. It took at least a good second or two before figuring a way past your brilliant plan, but by some miracle of providence I somehow managed - "

"WHAT DO YOU WANT??" yelled Harry, no longer bothering himself with any shred of decorum.

"Ah, yes," said Nigellus casually. "I was wondering when you were going to finally ask that. I thought you might like to know, there have been some rather peculiar goings-on lately over at Grimmauld Place. You may wish to speak to the Headmaster about it."

"Huh?" said Harry, caught off guard by this unexpected bit of news. He hadn't been to Grimmauld Place since the death of his Godfather. "What kind of things?"

" 'Peculiar', I believe, was the word I used," said Nigellus thoughtfully. "Yes, quite peculiar indeed."

"How would you know?" asked Harry, "The only time I saw you there was when Dumbledore sent you. And even then you only went kicking and screaming!"

"Kicking and screaming? Moi?" said Nigellus, "I don't recall doing any such thing. At any rate, we can come and go as we please between paintings, you know. We don't have to wait for someone to ask us. We know just about everything that goes on around here, actually. Not that we're naturally inclined to share it with students, of course."

"Oh really," said Harry skeptically. "Why should I believe that? Who would bother to tell anything to a painting?"

Nigellus put his hand to his heart and gave an exaggeratedly pained look. "Oh, thou hast wounded me with thy spiteful words thou hast sprouted," he said mournfully. "But, you are quite right. Actually, we get most of our information by, shall we say, 'overhearing'."

"Eavesdropping," corrected Harry.

"Semantics," said Nigellus, waving a hand indifferently. "Call it what you will. Like your little escapade in the forest, with the Moon Fairies, for instance. As I recall, that was supposed to be a secret, wasn't it?"

Harry's eyes widened. Had that become common knowledge?

"How'd you know about that?" he asked sharply.

"Oh, no need to get your briefs in a knot," said Nigellus. "You were making your little speech right below Beatrix Bloxam's painting in the staircase. Had you just looked up you might have seen her there. But of course, your attention was rather, ah - diverted - at the time, wasn't it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Harry hotly.

"Oh, nothing," said Nigellus insidiously, stroking his dark beard and rolling his eyes, "Nothing at all."

"Listen," said Harry, waving his finger at the portrait, "I don't want you going around telling people about the fairies, all right? That was supposed to be - "

" - a secret, yes," Nigellus finished. "Not to worry, we paintings don't make a habit of spreading gossip to the students, you know. Otherwise, their tongues might not be so loose next time they started chatting in the halls. Now then, I will leave you to your ever so difficult ruminations," he said, moving out of sight back towards Dumbledore's office.

"Hey, wait!" Harry called out, suddenly wanting to know more about whatever was going on at Grimmauld Place, but Nigellus had moved out of sight, presumably back to his own frame in Dumbledore's office. Harry stood there for several moments, staring back at the stone gargoyle. He knew the password to gain entry, but decided it wouldn't be the best time to go barging in, right after he'd just been summarily excused. He reluctantly turned around and headed back to the Gryffindor tower.

* * *

Harry dropped down heavily in the large chair next to the fireplace, having finished conveying all that had taken place to the best of his knowledge. He looked about the Common Room, his friends staring back at him as though he were juggling a set of flaming torches.

"Blimey," said Ron finally from the hearthrug. "That's bloody awful!"

Ginny shot up from the couch and bolted for the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Ginny, wait! We can't go visit tonight," said Harry, divining her intentions. "Madam Pomfrey said she really needs to be undisturbed for a while."

Ginny turned back with the greatest reluctance and dropped despairingly to the carpet next to her brother.

"This like...sucks," she said in a tiny voice.

"Too right it does," agreed Ron. He looked up at Harry. "Does she know?"

"No yet," said Harry heavily. "I'm supposed to tell her, though."

"Bloody Hell," said Ron, eyeing him sympathetically. "I don't envy you that, mate."

Harry glanced at Hermione, who was sitting in the divan opposite his, gazing distantly into the fireplace.

"Hermione, you okay?" He asked.

She slowly turned to look at him; he could see her emotions were slowly building up inside. "Harry," she said softly, "do you really think you should tell her?"

"Well someone has to," said Harry, "Dumbledore was going to do it but I asked him if I could - "

"No, that's not what I meant," said Hermione carefully. "Harry, you know she's so protective of her father, this will...this is just going to kill her..."

"I know," he said weakly. "But if we don't - "

"I think I know where you're coming from, mate," said Ron. "I guess I'd tell her too."

"Ron," countered Hermione despondently, "you can't imagine - no one should ever have to be put in that position. She has to choose between her father's life and the possible well-being of the wizarding world! How can anyone make that kind of a choice?"

"Yeah, I know, but then," parried Ron, though not in his usually defensive fashion, "if she doesn't know, then she can't give up her wand, can she? We'd be condemning her father ourselves if we didn't. At least, that's the way I see it."

Hermione gaped at him, seemingly realizing the inherent correctness of Ron's argument. Her shoulders sagged slightly in despair as she slowly turned back to gazing at the flames.

"Can't the Ministry or the Order look for him?" asked Ginny desperately, though Harry knew she was clutching at straws. "You said Remus Lupin was in a meeting with Dumbledore right now, didn't you?"

"Yeah," confirmed Harry, though somewhat less than enthusiastically, "but they don't even know where to start looking."

They sat in silence, each of them contemplating the situation with equal despair. Ironically, Harry thought, Luna was likely the best off of the bunch this night, still being in the dark about this horrifying development.

His hand reached into his robes to feel the ancient, smooth shaft of Luna's wand. He wondered what consequences might ensue if Voldemort were to gain possession of it... this tiny, seemingly insignificant piece of wood between his fingers...

What's the worst thing that could happen? he asked himself. Okay, so maybe he could talk to Grindelwald. That's not so bad, is it? It's not the end of the world. What if Grindelwald has nothing useful to say?

But then...Voldemort clearly wanted this wand very badly.

And Luna...how on Earth could she possibly even contemplate losing her father, no matter the consequences? He knew Hermione's argument had its own validity. But then, Ron was also quite right. To do nothing meant Luna would lose her father by default. Would he ever be able to face her knowing he'd caused the loss of that which was more precious to her than anything in the world?

There has to be another way, he thought. But finding her father seemed highly improbable, even with the combined resources of the Ministry and the Order working in concert. And even then, could they even mount a successful rescue attempt? He recalled darkly the end result of his previous attempt to do just that...

He gently gripped the handle of the wand, feeling its ancient hickory surface worn smooth through centuries of use. Who might have used this wand through the ages, he wondered. A thought blew fleetingly through his mind, so outrageous that he'd immediately dismissed it. But what else was there? After a few moments, his tendrils of thought reached out to retrieve it.

He could hand over the wand himself, he mused. He would explain to Luna that they hadn't found it in the snow that night, and it had likely been carried away by some small denizen of the forest. Her father would be freed, and...

No, he realized dimly, It couldn't work. The moment her father reappeared with the story of how he'd been kept captive in exchange for her wand would see to that. Why else would her father reappear unless her wand had made its way somehow to the Dark Lord? How would she react knowing Harry had kept that decision from her?

That's if they were even inclined to release her father, Harry thought painfully. He very much doubted Voldemort would be likely to keep his word. He sank even further into contemplation...

"What if..." He heard Hermione's voice interrupt his melancholy thoughts. "Maybe we don't have to look for him..."

Harry glanced over at her. "How's that?" he asked, hardly daring to hope.

She looked back at him, a curious look in her eyes. "Well...why yes, why didn't I...oh, Harry, I think we might be able to - "

"What?" asked Harry, straightening up and leaning forward in his chair, all their eyes now concentrated on the young Prefect.

She looked back at him, her expression thoughtful. "Harry, who's the only person Voldemort ever stuck his neck out for?"

Harry thought. It came to him immediately; the only Death Eater Voldemort saved from Dumbledore's clutches during the battle at the Department of Mysteries.

"Lestrange," he said at once. "He didn't seem to care what happened to the others, did he?"

"Exactly!" exclaimed Hermione, throwing her book on the table. "That's the key, Harry, right there."

Harry and Ron looked at each other with equal befuddlement. Ginny narrowed her eyes as she looked at Hermione, as though cluing in on what her friend might be thinking.

"Could you, er, give us mere mortals here a bit of a hint?" suggested Ron, putting away his barely inaugurated essay.

Hermione shot him a sharp look but proceeded with her elaboration. "Look, we know they're going to come after Malfoy at the next Hogsmeade weekend, right?"

Ginny's eyes lit up. Harry wished his own perceptiveness could be as proficient.

"Yeah...so...that means..." said Ron uncertainly, looking to Hermione, who was spinning her hand over in circles as though to encourage him to progress to the next logical step in his train of thought.

"...we trade Malfoy for Luna's dad?" Harry finished for him. "As much as I'd like to, I don't think - "

Hermione threw her head back in frustration. "Oh, of course not!" she said. "Think! Who do you suppose is going to be sent to get Malfoy?"

"Wormtail?" guessed Ron.

"Maybe," said Hermione, "but I'm ready to bet all my schoolbooks that Voldemort isn't going to take any chances; he's going to send Bellatrix Lestrange to make sure it gets done."

"So...we capture...Lestrange?" suggested Ron meekly.

"Yes!" exclaimed Ginny excitedly, scrambling to her feet. "We turn the tables on You-Know-Who!"

"Sshhh! Not so loud," implored Hermione, as a group of second years sitting at a table against the far wall of the Common Room peered curiously in their direction.

"Oh, sorry," said Ginny, lowering her voice. "But Hermione, this is perfect! We exchange her for Luna's dad!"

"Uh, hang on," said Ron. "How exactly are we supposed to capture her, exactly? She's kind of dangerous, isn't she?"

Hermione blinked, staring at him blankly for a moment. "Well," she said, "I haven't thought that part out yet. Anyway, we can leave that for later. But it gives us something to go on, at least."

"Okay, look," Ron continued, "let's say we manage it somehow. How do we know You-Know-Who's going to go for that? He abandoned Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban, didn't he?"

"Yes, but he helped Lestrange escape from the Ministry last year, don't forget," countered Hermione. "I think it shows she knows too much for Voldemort to let her get captured, doesn't it?"

"She didn't talk all the time she was in Azkaban, though," said Ron. "Why would he be worried about her talking now?"

"Veritaserum," said Hermione simply. "Fudge never allowed it to be used, probably because of Lucius Malfoy's influence, but - "

"Fudge is out of the picture now," said Ron, nodding comprehendingly. "Okay, all right, but, isn't Hogsmeade weekend like three weeks away? Do we have that kind of time?"

"Well, we can always ask Professor Dumbledore to move up the date, can't we?" suggested Hermione. "In the name of 'security', he'll say."

Ron looked at her blankly for a few moments. "With Malfoy as the bait," he said thoughtfully. "You know, this might be bloody brilliant?!"

Everyone turned to look at Harry, who'd been listening to the banter going back and forth and getting more and more hopeful in spite of himself.

"Well?" Ginny asked the question on all their lips. "What do you think?"

There was absolutely no question, as far as Harry was concerned. "Let's do it," he said, but at the sight of his friends' excitement he added quickly, "But...I'm the one who brings in Lestrange. I don't want any of you getting invol - "

"Oh, just relax, mate," said Ron happily. "We're not about to start letting get all the fun. Besides, we don't know how many of those Death Eaters - "

"I'm serious," interrupted Harry firmly, "I've had it with getting others in the line of fire. How many bullets can we keep dodging like this? This time I'm the only one who'll take the risk. End of discussion."

"Discussion re-opened. We're serious too, Harry," said Hermione just as firmly. "You're not going in this alone; and for heaven's sake, do you think we'd be able to live with ourselves if something happened to you while we just quietly sat back drinking butterbeer?"

"It's...that's not the same - "

"Oh yes, it is," said Hermione. "Guilt runs both ways, Harry."

"Look...you just don't understand - " Harry started, looking to Ron for support.

"What she said," Ron concurred, pointing to Hermione.

"But - " His gaze fell on Ginny, who was standing with her arms crossed, looking at him firmly and shaking her head in the negative.

Harry sighed and sank back resignedly in his chair. "You're all incorrigibles, you know that?"

"That's right," said Ginny, smiling.

"We're just awful," agreed Ron.