Twelve Dark Moons

Something bad must have happened in Voldemort's headquarters, because in the days after that terrifying incident where the Dark Lord deigned to touch Luna, she was left alone again in her round room. She was surprised to discover that her walls did not have Imperturbable Charms on them; she could hear whispers, scurrying, an occasional shout that sounded like alarm. Screams as though someone were being tortured. A sense of Dark magic being done, spells cast with desperation, and Luna's strong intuition leading her to know of it. She allowed herself a few glorious moments to imagine that the Order of the Phoenix had arrived and she would be rescued.

No one ever came for her.

The noises calmed down after a few days. Luna's meals continued to be sent up by house-elf magic and were unvarying in the fare; she lost more weight. She did not think it possible. Her collarbone now jutted out of her skin in a most unattractive way and her hands looked like they belonged on a skeleton. The thought came unbidden that Voldemort liked skulls and perhaps he wanted Luna to look like one.

On the fifth day it started to feel like a pattern when Snape entered Luna's room after a gentle knock. 'Miss Lovegood,' he said, just as he'd always said it.

Luna could not help staring at Snape. He looked terrible. There were dark purple circles under his eyes, which were more sunken into his face than ever before. His skin was pale and sallow, his lips taut, and he moved slowly as though every muscle were in the aftermath of pain. It was then that Luna understood the screams she'd heard: Voldemort must have been in a temper. Snape had been under the Cruciatus Curse, she guessed. For all her pity toward her former professor, Luna felt thankful she'd not been targeted again as an object of wrath by the Dark Lord.

'Sir?' she asked. 'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine,' Snape said brusquely. 'He wants to see you.'

'Professor, you don't look well,' Luna persisted. She wanted to hear it from Snape's lips so that she might understand what Voldemort was angry about. It would prepare her for what she was about to face.

'The Dark Lord has suffered a setback,' said Snape. 'The past few days have been - difficult. We all bore the brunt of it.' It was the only concession Snape would make to his own torture. 'The Order has done something that weakens, and yet strengthens, Lord Voldemort. You may find him changed. Don't be fooled, he is still what he always was.'

A wrinkle marred Luna's brow as she took in this information. Her mind, ever working, came up with some fantastic scenarios. She considered the possibility that the Dark Lord was allergic to the rare but powerful Turtlevine Pollen that could be found in more obscure shops in Knockturn Alley. It was used for wisdom and knowledge, but people with allergies tended to see too much and their eyes quadrupled in size to give a strange bug-like look. Some of the meaner girls at Hogwarts had accused Luna of being under the influence because she had big eyes and saw too much. But then, she doubted Voldemort would be allergic to something like that, and besides he would have tested it first... what could it be, then?

'Follow me,' said Snape.

They went to the room where Luna first encountered Lord Voldemort, the bare-bones throne room on the second floor of the mansion. It was silent inside. None of the witchlights were lit, leaving the task to the flickering green-orange flames of the dying fireplace. At first Luna thought Voldemort had yet to enter, for she did not see anyone in the room. Then she noticed a tall figure standing in the shadows, silhouetted by the window, a man with dark hair. Another Death Eater?

The man turned and Luna could not help the expression of surprise that showed on her face. It was Voldemort. He had dark hair on his previously bald head, shining and thick hair that shone in the firelight. His face was disgusting as ever, but Luna saw a bit more bone structure, a more defined nose. The skin still looked waxen and white, melting over once-handsome features. His eyes were ever crimson.

His appearance was confusing. Had he done some kind of spell to change his appearance, a glamour perhaps? Luna did not think Voldemort the kind of person to care much about his appearance aside from the art of terrifying people. Now he looked at her with an expression of disdain and amusement, these emotions warped by the face on which they showed.

'You look different,' she blurted.

Snape ducked out of the room with a bow.

'Yes,' said Voldemort. 'You can blame your little friends for that. I cannot help the change in my appearance.'

'It's an improvement,' said Luna. 'It's nice hair.'

'Mmm,' said Voldemort. He brought his fingers up to his hair, touching a lock of it that fell across his forehead. Then, swift as a striking snake, he crossed the room and grabbed Luna by the shoulders. 'How many have they destroyed?' he hissed.

'Wha-what?' She felt his presence plunge forward, invading her precious privacy, tearing through the thoughts that floated in her brain. 'What are you talking about?'

'The artefacts, you stupid girl. You know about them. You've been holding back information!' A note of hysteria sounded in Voldemort's voice. 'Tell me the truth!'

'I've told you all I know!' Luna protested. She had the fleeting thought that these Hogwarts artefacts might be very important to Lord Voldemort, a thought that he snatched up from inside her head. 'They said something about a cup. Hufflepuff and a cup. They destroyed it, I guess... please, my Lord, stop!' she let out a desperate sob, sinking to the floor as her own identity vanished under his mental assault.

'The cup,' Voldemort said, breaking the gaze. 'The diary, the cup, the ring...' He glanced down at Luna as though just realizing her presence and that he was thinking aloud. 'No wonder,' he said.

'I d-don't understand,' Luna stammered.

'No, you wouldn't,' said Voldemort. He whirled away and gazed out the window again. Luna was too afraid to say anything to him. For all his mad temper, Voldemort seemed younger, more energetic, more dangerous. He seemed more whole, and she sensed his energy structure seething and churning, full of anger. His essence reduced, youth restored. Luna stayed sitting on the floor. She waved at Nagini, curled in her spot by the fireplace, glad even for the familiarity of the murderous snake.

The room was so dark. Luna wished for a light, something to focus on. Instead, there was a gentle knock on the door. 'Enter,' said Voldemort from the window.

Snape came back in, bowing at the Dark Lord's back. 'Master,' he said.

'Fine, fine,' said Voldemort. He waved a white hand, a flash in the shadows.

'Miss Lovegood, come with me,' said Snape. 'Back to your room.'

Luna scrambled up off the floor, melting into Snape's wake, happy to leave Voldemort's company. They glided along in silence back to Luna's room with the round window. 'Sit down,' Snape said, nodding at Luna's bed. He sat in her dusty armchair and slumped over in weariness.

She obeyed her former professor, looking at him with frank and open honesty. She had no reason to trust Snape, yet she did. There was something sympathetic about him now that Luna had never detected in her years at Hogwarts, but then, the war changed everybody.

'I think you deserve to know,' said Snape. 'Obviously you are already aware that the great Mr. Potter has sought, and found, ancient magical artefacts connected with the founders of Hogwarts. These are important to Voldemort.'

'Yes,' said Luna.

'Do you know why, Miss Lovegood?'

'No.'

Snape sighed. 'I'm going to teach you something. I think your mind will be well-suited for this skill. I'd have thought the Order taught it, but - I digress. Occlumency. You must learn it.'

'Oh!' said Luna. 'Professor Moody tried to teach me that, once. He said I couldn't focus long enough, that I had a wild mind.' She shrugged. 'I guess he was right. This one time, we were having a lesson, and there was this wonderful cloud right out the window, it looked just like a harpsichord! Not a piano, because those are bigger and less square, but a real harpsichord! Isn't that remarkable? I thought it was conjured by somebody. In the sky -'

'Miss Lovegood.'

'Sorry,' said Luna. 'He said that's why I couldn't learn Occlumency.'

'Actually,' said Snape, 'we're going to use that quality for your benefit. Whenever someone tries to use Legilimency on you - say, the Dark Lord - then I want you to let yourself become distracted. Any intruders in your mind will simply think you insane. This is a good impression, and,' he made a wry face, 'almost accurate.'

Luna felt a little hurt. She didn't like being called loony just because other people didn't understand. But Snape was not one to care about hurt feelings and she accepted this.

'Right now I'm not strong enough to perform Legilimency as practise,' said Snape. 'But I will teach you some exercises to do on your own, to discipline your mind against invasion, to let other thoughts rise up in the place of important information. Can you promise you'll practise?'

'All right,' said Luna, thinking of her nightly Seer Stretches. She could just add Occlumency to her routine.

After that, Snape taught her some meditations and ways to control her thoughts. For a flighty mind like Luna's, this was difficult, but Snape told her to let it work for her. 'Let your thoughts be wild and off-track,' he said. 'Have the most ridiculous thoughts possible. Cultivate them. Use them.'

She thought she could do it. After all, her thoughts were like bright clouds skittering across the sky, flowing this way and that, never touching the great expanse beyond that Luna knew was her true mind. She liked the principle of distraction; her thoughts were expression but not form, an illusion in the same way that red-painted nails distracted the eye from the fingers that grew them.

It gave her the first hope of hiding herself from Voldemort's wicked, all-knowing gaze.

Voldemort did not summon her for several days and Snape made covert visits to Luna's room, looking exhausted and wary of noises from the outside. He told her not to tell anyone that he'd been coaching her or even talking to her; Luna replied that she had none to tell aside from Voldemort.

'He knows,' said Snape. 'I've told him I'm brainwashing you. Which I am, in a way.'

'Professor?' said Luna during their fourth Occlumency session.

'Yes.' Snape rubbed his dark eyes, not looking at her.

'Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?'

'Because,' said Snape. 'Because you are an innocent, Miss Lovegood. You are a rare find in this terrible age.'

'I don't understand.'

'Think, Miss Lovegood. Think hard.'

Luna did. She knew she was innocent in mind and body still; even the betrayal of her capture and torture could not change that. The part of Luna that was innocent would survive even her death, she knew, for it was deathless and formless and unbreakable. But why might Professor Snape value this so? She decided that he must despise Voldemort more than anyone, for Voldemort prevented him having a normal life. Voldemort made the situation where his students killed each other in a circular war that got worse by the day. Voldemort put him under the Cruciatus Curse, just because of a bad mood.

Then it crystallized, and the realization was huge and dangerous and filled Luna with wild hope that fluttered about like a frantic eagle. 'You're the Source,' she breathed.

'I am,' said Snape. 'I'm surprised you did not deduce it sooner. Who else could it be?'

Luna was too embarrassed to admit her theory about the bug Animagus that buzzed around Voldemort's face as he gave orders.

'That's enough teaching for one day,' said Snape. He stood up. 'Finish your exercises before you sleep tonight. One more lesson should be sufficient, I think. You're doing well.'

The praise made a little pleasant squirm in Luna's chest. It was nice to hear that she was good at something; it made her think of her childhood dance tutor Madame Dunblatt, and how Luna had been told she did the best waltz in a decade.

'And for heaven's sake, eat more,' Snape finished. 'I'll have the house-elves send up more food, you look like a skeleton.'

With mean effort, Luna tried to eat more and filled out a bit, but not enough to make much of a difference. She was still stick-thin and there was nothing to be done about her height. Other little luxuries came from the house-elves: the equipment for a sponge bath, her toilette at last to normal standards of hygiene. The last Occlumency lesson was held and Snape declared her ready to face Lord Voldemort again. Luna was not so sure; she was by now quite certain that Voldemort did not have mere interrogation in mind for her. How was she to defend herself?

No time to think about it. A knock on her door and the hope that it was Snape was dashed: two masked Death Eaters stepped in. One of them held a long box which he tossed on Luna's made bed. 'The Dark Lord requests your presence in an hour,' said the unfamiliar man behind the skull mask. 'Put that on.' He jerked his head at the box and the two Death Eaters left.

Her hands trembled as she removed the lid of the box, with what emotion Luna could not name. It was clothing, of course, and her heart did a triple-flip as she beheld the dress.

It was exactly the thing Luna would have chosen for herself. Deep indigo silk with a pattern of diamond beads beginning at the draped shoulder, like a shower of stars, down the front to a fishtail hemline; the back was entirely exposed. Also in the box were a pair of pretty pointed shoes in a whimsical crystalline design and a tiny jewelry case. This latter she pulled open to find a pair of large carat sapphire stud earrings.

Luna loved the clothes. But she hated the man who sent them, if he could even be called a man, and the dread that overwhelmed her was acute. Voldemort wanted her to look good, and that could not mean anything nice for her. One hour and the Dark Lord expected her.

The panic loomed beyond her awareness and she pushed it away and Luna did something that made her feel better. She laid out the dress on her bed, preparing it to be put on at the last second. The sapphire studs went into her ears, made difficult after weeks of not wearing earrings, but she managed. Her old tattered black dress came off and Luna sat naked in the middle of her floor. She put her fingers in a mudra position and went over Snape's Occlumency instructions again. After fifteen minutes of this, she let herself sink deep down into her own consciousness, looking for the answer of what to do about Lord Voldemort. Time suspended. Her mind searched, this way and that, floating and flying above reality to discern its true shape.

Any of the others in the Order, Luna was sure, would have thrown themselves at the Dark Lord in an attempt to kill him, and not taken any ridiculous proposals such as Luna had. If they died, it was in a noble cause. But Luna lived, and in an instant she saw what Voldemort was doing to her: he was eroding away at her confidence in her friends, her loyalties, and making her feel a traitor. It was not her fault, but so easy to feel the blame. The emotion welled up and she let it come and go, moving on, let's find a solution here. Be practical for once, Luna Lovegood.

She let her mind approach Lord Voldemort without fear, as much as she could, and tried to get inside his head. How could the insane be understood? Why, on their terms, of course. He wanted power, he had power, and control and mastery and intelligence. Culture, even, and good taste. A joy in the darkness, reveling in it, drinking the life-force of those around him, insatiable for blood.

Luna wanted to get under his skin. She could not believe that Voldemort was all evil, though he was mostly evil. There must be a core somewhere inside of him that remained sane and alive. For all humanity was born of love, even Voldemort, and it was deep and repressed but Luna felt sure it was there. Little Tom Riddle was overtaken but, Luna hoped, not defeated yet. How would she do it? How would she draw him out?

The grandfather clock beyond the non-Imperturbable charmed walls struck the hour. They would be coming for her. But like a chime inside her mind, a great clock whose gears moved into place, Luna knew what she must do. She inventoried her powers and arrived at one: she was a female.

If she went into this with eyes open, it might work. Voldemort would never expect it. He looked more human these days, although why this was, Luna had not a clue. It was easier to seduce a man with a head of nice black hair, however. She rose out of her meditation with a sense of inevitability: it was always going to come to this. She knew that Voldemort wanted to break her as a form of amusement, and for a young girl such as Luna there was a time-tested way of doing this. But if she could turn the tables on the Dark Lord, he would not know what hit him.

Whatever he did to her, she would act frightened (not difficult to do) but pretend to enjoy it at the same time. He would not understand her, an insurance policy against her death, for Luna knew that Voldemort would not destroy something he did not understand. She must allow the feminine mystery to suffuse her whole being and take him in. For a moment Luna wished that she was Ginny Weasley, who had feminine wiles in spades, plus a 'history' with Voldemort. It might make things easier. But Luna would just have to make do with her own self.

She took a deep breath, slid the exquisite dark gown over her head, got ready to play her little game with the Dark Lord. It was only a game, after all, and Luna knew enough to know that her body meant nothing. Her spirit she would lock away tight, preserved for when she got out of this mess.

The Order would not understand, but hopefully they never need know. She would keep Voldemort occupied, and keep herself alive, until rescue came. For although her body might serve the Dark Lord, Luna never would.

When the knock sounded on her door, she bid the Death Eaters entry with calm recollection.