Thicker Than Water: Year Six

Chapter 12 - Monsters and Ghosts

One of Harry's biggest challenges as September flew by was relearning how to cast spells to maximise their impact using his new wand. Defensive spells required a firmer grip than he was used to. The new wand was also more sensitive to casting charms and, as a consequence, he found his performance getting stronger in Professor Flitwick's class.

Without Ron and Hermione to hang out with, Harry increasingly found himself spending time with Neville. Aside form "teaching" him defence, Neville showed Harry around the greenhouses. Two greenhouses were reserved for NEWT-level special projects in Herbology, and for Professor Sprout's personal use. To Harry's surprise, there was even a potions area set up in Greenhouse Six, where Neville and Eloise Midgen had begun brewing various plant-derived remedies under Professor Sprout's supervision, for use in the hospital wing. Though Neville had gladly dropped his potions class, he wasn't so bad at brewing when Snape wasn't breathing down his neck and hurtling insults at him.

The amount of time Neville spent with Eloise had led to some snickering and light ribbing. Eloise, though rather shy, had become quite good-looking and Harry was glad to see Neville so happy and confident in her company. However, he spent more time quietly observing the increasingly interesting interactions between Hermione and Ron.

For starters, their snippy little arguments occurred with less regularity. Harry noticed that Ron seemed to be on his best behaviour when it looked like Hermione might get upset by something he said or did. When they did argue, Hermione was less apt to storm out on Ron, and more likely to give in to Ron's ribbing; a couple of times, Ron even managed to get Hermione to laugh at herself, which Harry thought was a great accomplishment. And, as Harry noted early on, they were always in each other's company. Ron always seemed to notice when Hermione talked with other boys, though Harry saw that he did a good job trying to hide his interest.

Bill was back from France, and Harry was happy to have at least one Weasley to talk to. When he asked about the visit with Fleur's family, Bill just shook his head and told Harry that spending too much time with Veela was disconcerting. Aside from keeping up his occlumency and legilimency skills, Bill was always good for a workout. One hour of duelling with the redhead always left Harry feeling as though he had just finished a long quidditch practice. He was learning new offensive techniques, as well as honing his ability to predict an opponent's moves.

On his following weekends at the Manor, Remus was always a good subject for trying out the new moves. More experienced than Bill, Remus also had a wider repertoire of hexes and curses, and took the time to explain the spells, and work with Harry on getting the best efficacy with his new wand.

Remus kept Harry practicing his apparition in and around the Manor. Though Harry felt he was doing quite well, Remus was exacting about the precision of his reappearances, and made him apparate repeatedly to get a better feel of visualizing new spaces. Though Tonks never duelled with Harry, she promised she would one day; in the meantime, she was always up for a bit of flying, and managed to keep Remus and Harry laughing.

*

In the Great Hall and around the school, darker rumours about Death Eater activities and upheavals at the Ministry were discussed, often in hushed tones. Hermione could be found buried in her newspaper at the breakfast table, each day sharing new snippets of information with her classmates. Each strike by Voldemort's followers further eroded the support and trust of the community for Cornelius Fudge. A particularly violent attack was perpetrated on a shop that supplied various potion supplies, after the owner refused to sell ingredients to envoys of the Dark Lord, or to bow to their extortion attempts.

That attack was still on people's minds when an unexpected explosion in the third year Potions class led to an evacuation of the dungeons and cancellation of all that day's Potions lessons. Harry was delighted with the prospects of a free afternoon in place of his least favourite class. By some stroke of good luck, the day was an unseasonably warm one, and Harry headed outside to enjoy the sunshine before the chills of autumn set in.

His eyes were enviously turned to the distant sight of a spontaneous quidditch match that had sprung up amongst some other students with free periods. The lure of flying was too strong, and Harry headed in the opposite direction, away from the quidditch pitch. He only noticed Luna when he came up to her; she was basking in the sunshine, her autumn cloak wadded up as a pillow beneath her head. Before he even noticed the girl in the tall, browning grasses, little puffs of smoke hovering above her caught Harry's eye.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, looking strangely at her. Luna continued to look up, answering, "Why, homework of course. I'm trying to figure out a sequence for Runes class. Deletrius!"

The puffs of smoke vanished and she raised her wand to draw another set of runes above her. Harry muttered, "Well, this certainly beats working in the library."

Yes," agreed Luna. "And it's difficult to get anything done in there these days. Everybody's gossiping about those horrid attacks. They all gab on about them in the same sensational tones - I wonder how many students really understand what it means to lose someone."

"They could ask me," Harry muttered dismally.

"Yes, you're getting to be a bit of an expert, huh?" Luna sat up and looked at him. Feeling a dark mood begin to envelope him, Harry hesitated a moment, then sat down morosely next to her.

"Every time there's another attack, I keep thinking..." He broke off and shuddered suddenly.

Lun reached over and touched his arm, saying softly, "I know what it's like, I've been there. You tell yourself not to think about it, but that doesn't help."

"I keep thinking this war has to end soon, or there will be no one left," Harry blurted out, and to himself he added, and I've got to be the one to make it end.

Harry stared blankly out across the lawns, and Luna sat silently beside him. He could feel her fingers moving in reassuring circles on his arm, and the repetitive motions were comforting. After a long while, she removed her hand and said quietly, "Even when the night is dark, you can usually rely on the moon for a drop of light to show you your path."

And when there is no moon? Harry wondered. As though in reply to his unasked question, Luna said, "But right now the sun is shining, and the day is warm."

She lay down again and abruptly changed the subject. "You don't by chance know the ancient Sanskrit symbol for water, do you?"

Harry shook his head, lamenting, "I probably should have switched to Runes a couple years back, instead of Divination. That was a waste of my time. But I'm surprised you're not in Divination; I would have thought you'd be a natural at it!"

Luna flicked her wrist to brush away the latest string of smoky runes that hovered over her. She replied dreamily, "Divination? No, I'm not particularly talented at reading the future. Tea leaves make me thirsty, and I always think of the moon when I see a crystal ball. I'm much better at deciphering the present; unfortunately, there's no elective courses in that sort of thing."

For some reason, her answer made Harry laugh. He pulled off his cloak and bunched it into a ball. Using it as a pillow, Harry lay down on the grass beside Luna, his mood lighter than it had been a few minutes ago. He asked, "What kind of sequence are you working on?"

"Well, right now it's mostly encoding. Once we've got more comfortable with the symbols, we'll be deciphering ancient texts. The historical accounts are peppered with descriptions of curses that wizards of old used to harass their foes. Most of them are really cool disfigurations; I can't wait to read about them!"

Luna went on to explain how particular symbols were used to represent certain concepts, drawing her smoky illustrations in the ether above. Harry asked a few questions, pulling out his wand to try to imitate the characters Luna was writing. He attempted to symbolically convey "the big tree near the water" when Luna gave a playful swish of her wand, causing her smoky runes to gang up on Harry's. That led to a spontaneous Battle of the Runes, where Luna's Sanskrit symbols tried to obliterate Harry's nonsensical ones. Harry finally resorted to nudging Luna's wand arm off course with his left hand, leading to accusations of unfair interference. When they were done - in a fit of laughter - wisps of smoke were all that were left to mark the ruin of the runes.

"I've really got to get going on my homework or I'll be behind in tomorrow's class," said Luna, dismissing Harry's attempts to draw her into another battle. She lifted her arm again and began to organise symbols in a row above her.

Harry watched her work, marvelling at how long she could go without her lifted arm tiring. The lightest autumn breeze was making the smoky runes drift off course as Luna drew them; high above, the few fluffy clouds that dotted the sky were drifting slowly too. A wasp flew by with a soft buzzing, as Luna erased yet another string of characters and began again. Harry let himself relax under the unseasonably warm sun, totally at ease for perhaps the first time since the school term had started.

Harry followed the smoky runes and the high clouds with his eyes, aware of Luna beside him and of the lack of pain punctuating his scar on a near-constant basis, as it had last year. His breathing slowed, lulled by the buzz of other insects passing close by. In the quiet of his mind, with the distant sounds of afternoon at Hogwarts in the background, Harry fell fast asleep. He dreamt no dreams, and didn't regain consciousness until Luna woke him a long time later, insisting it was time to go back inside.

Thinking back to Luna and those hovering runes, Harry was able to maintain the feeling of tranquillity - in spite of his classes and dark rumours of Death Eaters - for the rest of the week.

*

The weekend started off badly, though, as Harry watched with grim envy when the Quidditch team left after Saturday breakfast for their practice. Hermione stayed behind, engrossed in the newspaper, which was rife with increasing criticism of Minister Fudge for his impotent strategies in dealing with Death Eater attacks. Ironically, Rita Skeeter - who had resumed writing for the Daily Prophet - was one of the quickest to present new theories about why Fudge didn't have the clout to fight You-Know-Who.

After spending most of the morning in the library catching up on his homework, Harry returned to Gryffindor tower to drop off his books before lunch. Students were milling about the notice board, exclaiming excitedly that a costume ball had just been announced for Hallowe'en. Seamus, who was eyeing a group of excited girls with interest, announced, "Perhaps I'll dress up as the big bad wolf!"

Harry, who had spent much of the last several months thinking about death, had no patience to hear about the ball. He walked into his dorm room to find Ron pacing between the beds, the last letter he had written clutched in Ron's hand. Turning mid-pace, Ron's face broke into a scowl as he saw Leo, and he thrust the crumpled letter into his pocket.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Harry began, "I just wanted to...."

"Don't let me bother you!" snapped Ron, pushing past him and clomping loudly down the stairs to the common room.

"....just wanted to talk," Harry tapered off to himself, still standing in the doorway. Coming back to school, he had envisioned all of the fun he could have as Leo, everyone oblivious to the fact that he was Harry, with Ron in on the secret. He had not foreseen Ron's anger, and absolute rejection. Harry was torn between being angry and being touched: he knew that Ron's behaviour indicated just how much he missed his friend. Yet here he was, an arm's length away, miserably lonely and isolated.

Instead of going down to lunch, Harry sat dejectedly in an armchair, staring across the common room into the fire. Ginny came down the stairs from the girls' dorms and, noticing his long face, walked over and asked with concern, "Hey, Leo, what's up? Is everything okay?"

"No, I..." he stammered. "I guess I'm just not feeling so well today."

She sat down on the arm of the chair, a look of genuine concern on her face. "Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey. The flu's going around, and she's been giving out her Pepper-up Potion to get people on their feet again. Seems like half my class has been to see her this week. Do you have a fever?"

As she finished speaking, Ginny casually reached over to feel his head. It was a normal temperature, but Ginny suddenly stiffened, and began running her fingers over the skin under his neat curls. Harry tried to remove her hand, but it was too late: her fingers had identified the telltale lightening-scar that - though virtually invisible - still etched itself into his forehead.

Ginny jumped up from the armrest and stared at Harry in horror. His eyes met hers and he gave her a sad look. Gasping, Ginny ran off, heading back up to the girls' dorm at top speed. A few fourth-year students sitting nearby snickered, as one boy winked, "Whatever you said, it must have been a good one! Be careful about being sassy with that girl - trust me, I made that mistake, she has quite the temper..."

Harry sank his head into his hands, the further worry of having hurt a friend exacerbating his misery. In a minute, though, she was back downstairs, marching resolutely to his chair. Ginny grabbed his arm and began to drag him out the portrait hole. Harry resigned himself to the confrontation and followed willingly, wanting to get away from the curious stares of other Gryffindor students, who were enjoying the scene.

They said nothing as Ginny searched for an empty classroom. The first one they looked into had an arithmancy tutorial going on, and the second class held Peeves who was methodically upturning desks. Getting impatient, Harry grabbed Ginny's hand and, in turn, dragged her off towards the Room of Requirement. He hadn't been in it since the D.A. meetings the previous year, and didn't think many people used it regularly.

Pacing three times before the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, the door materialized on the opposite wall and they entered what closely resembled the sitting room at the Manor. It was a room Harry felt comfortable in, and he walked over to sink into his favourite chair. Ginny, meanwhile, placed her hands on her hips and immediately launched into a verbal assault:

"Just what do you think you're doing!?! We're worried sick about you - absolutely sick - thinking that you're in some isolated location concocted by the Order!! And here you are, traipsing under our very noses for six whole weeks without a word! Not a single word since school started, just a few stupid letters about 'feeling fine' and 'working hard'! Just what do you think you're playing at, Harry?!"

Her vehement tone - though lower pitched than her mother's - reminded Harry so much of Mrs. Weasley's anger, that Harry felt doubly guilty for having deceived both Ginny and her mother. He recognized the deep concern in her tirade, and hung his head morosely.

"Well, what kind of explanation can you come up with for not telling us? I swear, Mum thinks you're being mistreated by Dumbledore; Ron's eating himself up for not having had you at the Burrow with us this summer, and not seeing you since the explosion! Just who are you hiding from, Harry, a big bad dark-wizard or your friends?"

At her question, Harry looked up, eyes flashing. "I've tried a million times to tell him, and he's walked out on me every time! Every time, Ginny! And I can't even talk to Hermione, they're stuck together like glue..."

"Do you deny him the consolation?" snapped Ginny.

Harry, hurt, shouted back, "What kind of friend doesn't even bother to look, or listen?"

"Well, you never tried talking to me!" Ginny spat back.

Harry sagged at the pain and anger in her voice, and tears came unbidden into his eyes. He sank his head back into his hands, and struggled to control his emotions. He finally managed, though his voice still trembled when he spoke, "Please don't, Ginny, please! I've had such a terrible summer: first Sirius, then the Dursleys. I just can't..."

He trailed off, and Ginny softened. She came over to his chair and crouched down beside it, tears in her eyes. "Oh Harry, I'm sorry, I know it's been hard. Still, we all care about you, and you know how it feels to be left in the dark."

Though Ginny was probably referring to being left out of the Order's plans, Harry immediately thought of the prophecy that Dumbledore had finally told him about at the end of last year. Its weight wrapped around his heart, and seemed to squeeze all the happiness out of his life. Ginny reached over and pulled him into an embrace. Harry accepted the consolation, but didn't cling back to her.

Ginny pulled away at last, her eyes glistening. Harry breathed in a deep sigh, and managed to meet her eyes. She asked softly, "When are you going to tell Ron and Hermione who you are?"

"Whenever Ron finally decides he's ready to listen. Or if I get Hermione on her own..."

"They need to be told, Harry. But I'm not going to do that for you," Ginny said. "In the meantime, I'm still your friend, and I don't want you to forget it again."

Harry nodded and they sat quietly for a few minutes, Ginny kneeling beside him on the rug. Eventually she asked, "Are you okay?"

He answered, "Yes, I am. And Ginny - thanks for everything."

She flashed him a smile, light and almost flirtatious, as he had seen her over the past few weeks. Then they both got up, and went back to the Gryffindor common room in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

*

Things went back to normal with Ginny in the weeks that followed her discovery. Noticing that Harry often sat studying with Luna in the library, she had declared that her classmate wasn't going to have an unfair advantage in her OWLs, and made a point of joining them frequently at a corner table near the stacks. Luna maintained her resolution to get potions help, and both girls often picked Harry's brain for information on the fifth year curriculum and exam requirements. For all the time he spent with the two of them, Leo was developing a reputation as a womaniser, and Seamus made a few envious comments about their ménage à trois.

On the other hand, Ginny appeared ready to flirt with anyone and everyone. She was frequently seen resting on the side of some boy's chair in the common room, and one day plunked herself on Dean's lap, running her hands playfully through his hair as she talked to him and Seamus. Harry could see that Dean had gone red and seemed to be decidedly uncomfortable, but Ginny didn't notice and kept the encounter bubbly and noncommittal.

On their way to the library with Ginny later that afternoon, Harry deliberately slowed his steps and asked as casually as possible, "What's up with you and Dean? I thought you two broke up over the summer?"

"Why? Are you interested?" she asked mischievously, flashing her eyes at him. Harry shook his head and kept his expression somber, trying to make her take the question seriously. Ginny just shrugged it off and flippantly replied, "Oh well, it's nothing. We just decided we weren't right together, that's all."

He said nothing but his expression was a rebuke to her. After walking a few more steps, it was Ginnny's turn to slow down the pace. She turned to Harry, her face downcast, and said, "That's not entirely true, I shouldn't lie to you about it. But -"

Harry sensed that something was bothering Ginny and when she didn't continue, he steered her into the nearest empty room and looked down at her. She didn't say anything but stood scuffing her foot against the floor, turning increasingly red with discomfort and embarrassment. She finally turned away from him and began to speak haltingly. "The truth is, things were going okay with Dean at the end of last year, and his letters were very - intimate. I mean, he wrote a lot about himself, and being magical in a muggle family and all... And then, I just broke it off..."

Ginny stared off across the classroom, lost in thought, and then continued with a sort of grief that tears couldn't relieve. "You know what it's like having him inside your head, Harry. Well, so do I. And when Dean began to get too close, he was there, interfering."

Harry let out a shudder, and said simply, "Voldemort."

"No," Ginny shook her head vigorously. "Not exactly. It was Tom Riddle, the sixteen-year old version of that monster. When I - in my first year, when I wrote in that diary, he was my best friend, Harry. He told me little things about himself, about the muggle orphanage, to get me to trust him. Everything I felt or wrote, he was always there to listen or comfort me. It felt like he was the only one who had ever understood me, understood how I felt and what things mattered to me the most... When Dean began writing me those letters, it was just as though Riddle appeared again."

"You mean he was projecting into your mind, like the visions he fed me of the Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked.

"Not exactly, no it wasn't really like that," Ginny shivered. "It was more like the diary itself, an echo of a person from long ago, that just seemed to rear its ugly head... He was always there, my best friend and my worst nightmare. When things began to get serious with Dean, he was there and I kept comparing the two. Oh, I know Riddle was a monster, but the echo that wrote back to me in the diary played at being a sensitive boy - I kept making a comparison, and Dean never seemed to be as good as Tom. Tom kept coming out on top: always more understanding, more intimate, his voice always like a whisper in my head that Dean just wasn't good enough for me...

"And as he's gotten more powerful, every time there's another attack this year... the voice seems stronger, it comes back to me and tells me that I'm special, that I'm the only one he really cares about." Though Ginny's voice remained steady, tears were streaking down her cheeks. "I keep wondering if I'm ever going to have normal relationships, Harry, or if it's always going to be Tom there, bigger, better, more powerful. It's like I can't get him out of my mind, he's still lurking there, wreaking havoc. I thought I was over all that!"

A sob heaved through her body, and she cried. Harry stepped over and held her, patting Ginny's back as she leaned in to the embrace. Her floodgates opened, and she sobbed. Harry tried to be sympathetic to her pain, he really did, but a mixture of revulsion and irrational anger overtook him.

The last couple of months - since he had mastered occlumency to keep Voldemort out of his head - had been an immense physical relief to Harry. For the first time in years, he wasn't riddled by prickles of pain in his scar on a regular basis, or nightmare visions of Voldemort's torture-sessions that left him retching and sick when he awoke. Although he was perhaps the one person who understood Ginny the best, he felt unable to comfort her now that he was free of that particular torment. Harry simply wasn't willingly able to face that again.

Ginny's crying slowed to deep hiccups, the aftermath of a much-needed sob. Harry moved away from her stiffly, angry at himself for wanting to turn around and walk out on his friend. He had unconsciously flashed on the scene of Cho Chang crying to him about Cedric in the previous year, and the thought made him grit his teeth in irritation.

When she could finally speak again, Ginny said shakily to Harry, "Thanks, I needed that. I... I haven't told anybody else - Harry, please don't tell! If my mum knew - she has so much on her mind, with the Order, worrying about us all!"

"If anything happens, if you keep hearing him in your head..." began Harry. Ginny mistook the words for gallantry, and said, "I promise I'll talk about it. I know you'll understand at least. Thanks, Harry."

Ginny stayed behind in the classroom when Harry left for the library, knots of anxiety twisting in his stomach. Memories of the physical nausea and pain caused by Voldemort's intrusions into his mind left him agitated. Entering the library, Harry scanned the study area for Luna; she wasn't at their usual table, or browsing in the book stacks.

He left the library again and wandered aimlessly around the castle - whether to walk off his unease or in a futile search for Luna, he wasn't sure. When the time had come for everybody to be at the Great Hall for dinner, Harry headed back to Gryffindor tower and took refuge in the empty common room. As well-fed students started to filter back in after their meal, Harry beat a further retreat to his dorm room and sat on his bed munching on the stash of chocolate he kept in his trunk.

Neville came in and asked Harry where he had been during supper. Harry replied that he hadn't been hungry and propped the first text in sight open on his lap, pretending that he had been studying. Neville droned on about checking on seedlings in the Greenhouse as he rummaged for his cloak, finally finding it and leaving the room. Harry continued to stare blankly at the Magical Creatures text in his lap, rereading the same words over and over until he numbly dropped the farce, and simply gazed into space. Thinking about Ginny, Riddle/Voldemort, and that damned prophecy that seemed to rob him of any attempts of leading a normal life, Harry finally slammed his books closed. Pulling the hangings of his four-poster shut, Harry fell asleep early that night, and slept fitfully.

*

Excitement mounted as the Hallowe'en costume ball drew nearer. Students began congregating to discuss their costumes, and several girls had become militant in their attempts to snag the perfect dates.

Withdrawn as he was without his closest friends, and already fed up with being in disguise all the time, Harry wasn't looking forward to the evening. He flatly turned Ginny down when she told him they should go to the ball together. "I don't think I'm up to it this year, you'll have to find someone else. I'm not going."

"Har--Leo Evangy, I sure hope you don't mean to spend the evening sulking in your dorm room! Just because you won't be going with Ron and Hermione, doesn't mean you should miss out!" Ginny said heatedly.

On Hallowe'en, Ginny was still trying to convince Harry to attend the ball. He consented to walk her part of the way to the Great Hall. She had modified her friend, Kenslie's, dress robe to make herself look like Little Red Riding-Hood; the bright red of the robe clashed violently with her hair, but accentuated her curves nicely. Harry warned her to stay away from Seamus who had, indeed, come up with a Big Bad Wolf costume somewhere, and was on the prowl.

After reassuring Ginny several times that he wasn't headed to his dorm room to sulk the night away, Harry turned back towards Gryffindor tower to do precisely that. Hallowe'en was turning out to be his least favourite night of the year. Growing up, there had always been the envy of watching Dudley in a new costume, leaving to collect bags full of candy that he could never have.

Even his years at Hogwarts had bad Hallowe'en associations: fighting the troll in his first year; the Death-Day Party and the opening of the Chamber of Secrets in his second; Sirius' frightening third-year assault on the protector of Gryffindor tower, the Fat Lady; and the unexplained appearance of his name from within the Goblet of Fire in his fourth year. Fifth year had been marred by continual sharp pains in Harry's scar whenever Voldemort was moody, and by the unpleasant intrusions on school life by the evil Hogwarts High Inquisitor, Dolores Umbridge.

Halfway back to Gryffindor Tower, wrapped up in his own thoughts, Harry bumped into another lone student not yet in the Great Hall.

"Aren't you going to the ball?" he asked Luna.

She shrugged her shoulders and said, "I meant to, but somebody's gone and hid my costume. I was going to go as the priestess Morgain, it was a lovely costume, but now..."

"That's rotten!" said Harry angrily. Luna just gave him a smile and said, "I'm sure I'll get it back tomorrow, some of the girls are probably just trying to ruin my fun at the ball. Why aren't you dressed up?"

It was Harry's turn to shrug as he mumbled, "I'm not a big fan of Hallowe'en."

"Would you like to see something interesting? I know of this place in the castle dungeons that no one ever visits anymore," Luna offered.

Harry, who prided himself on knowing the castle very well thanks to Fred and George and the Marauder's legacy, was intrigued by the idea of a remote dungeon location that he had never heard of. He followed Luna back down the stairs as she was explaining, "...And I followed one of the ghosts - Moaning Myrtle - down there in my second year. It was quite an exciting find..."

They walked for a long while, past the Slytherin house corridor and Snape's potions labs, through a couple of faded tapestries, and to a large bricked-in archway that formed a dead end. Luna gave Harry an excited smile, then held her wand up to the centre of the brick wall and uttered, "Orbis musici, vade mecum semper fidelus!"

The bricks pulled away like the curtains on a theatre stage, to reveal a dusty circular room off which three grand doors opened. Luna led Harry through the central door into an old unused performance hall with a raised platform at one end. Rows of old chairs covered thickly with dust showed how little the room had been disturbed in recent decades. The other two doors in the circular room apparently led to staircases, as there were two high balcony-loges on either side of the room.

On the stage, perched on ornately carved wooden chairs were half a dozen ghosts tuning long-deceased instruments. A couple looked up when Harry and Luna entered the hall, but they were all soon focused on their tuning again. A gaunt transparent witch was plucking sorrowfully at the strings of a magnificent harp, while a squat, bald ghost held a violin to his neck and continued to pull the bow eerily across its strings.

Luna had a delighted look on her face, and indicated for Harry to take a seat. She pulled out a pocket handkerchief and wiped some of the dust off a chair in the centre of the hall, before sitting. Luna whispered, "Just watch. There's bound to be a few more of them along soon, and I understand that Hallowe'en is a big day for ghosts; maybe we'll even get a whole orchestra out tonight!"

The stage did indeed fill up a bit more as other ghosts drifted in and started to fiddle around on a variety of translucent instruments. Harry sat patiently, waiting for them to start playing in a co-ordinated fashion, but it never happened. The discordant sounds of tuning continued, with a few ghosts progressing to whole - and wholly distinct - melodies. It reminded Harry of the times Dumbledore had started the school year with students singing the same Hogwarts song but to wildly conflicting tunes.

When Luna judged that enough ghosts had appeared, she turned to him and said with a wink, "Now let's see if we can get them to play something all together!"

From her robe pocket, she pulled out the flute Harry had heard her playing at the start of term. Holding it up to her mouth, Luna began loudly and deliberately playing a piece of music. Her living breath ensured that her tune could be heard clearly above the din of the ghostly instruments. A few of the ghosts halted in surprise or with pleasure, and began to keep up with Luna; many of the other ghosts, however, kept counsel with themselves and continued to play their disharmonious pieces or kept randomly tuning.

For a few moments, Luna seemed to have a following, and a melody almost emerged from the cacophony. Then one of the ghostly witches who had been keeping up on her cello started playing variations on the piece. Meanwhile, a tiny translucent wizard - perched on a stool to reach the strings of his double bass - became stuck in a loop and kept playing the same bars over and over again, irrespective of the melody. Harry shook with a quiet mirth as Luna kept trying to guide the ghosts back to playing the same piece of music. Her efforts were all for naught, though, as the ghosts slowly drifted back into a state of incongruent noise.

Luna, defeated, lowered her flute and grinned widely at Harry, her protuberant eyes shining merrily. "That was great! There's only one other time I got them that close to sounding good together! Most of those musicians lived during very different times, and they all have contrary ideas of what music should sound like, even when they know some of the same pieces."

"To your credit, it almost sounded good in here! Are you really the only one who knows about this place?" Harry asked.

Luna shook her head and pointed at one of the loges. "There's one seat up there that is always wiped clean of dust. Somebody else must be coming with some regularity. I figure it might be Dumbledore -he's old enough to know most of the forgotten rooms in the castle. Besides, I've occasionally found candy wrappers there, and it's no secret that he loves sweets."

The discord was starting to grate on Harry and he threw a few glances at the door. Luna noticed and they both got up and left the hall. The noise diminished as the music hall door closed behind them. Harry looked around the circular foyer, fingering the ancient carved door-frames, while Luna sat down on the floor, her back against a wall. She began to reminisce aloud.

"When I was little and my mother was still alive, Hallowe'en used to be my favourite holiday! Mum would bake snapping monster cookies for my older cousins. She carved the most frightful looking pumpkins, which she would charm to sing Gregorian chants. And Daddy once brought home a bag of glowing fairies that we used as ornaments, to light up the little Hallowe'en lanterns he bought in a muggle shop."

Harry sat down beside Luna, and said, "I never had nice Hallowe'ens like that. My aunt and uncle made me stay in the living room when the neighbourhood muggle children came for tricks or treats at our house, and they never let me have a costume or go out with my cousin, Dudley. And now, I keep thinking back to the fact that my parents were killed fifteen years ago, on this day."

"What did your parents do when they were still alive?" Luna inquired.

"I'm not really sure," said Harry thoughtfully. "My aunt and uncle never spoke of them, so I don't really know that much about my parents. But they were very young when I was born, and when they were killed by Voldemort."

"Daddy edits The Quibbler now, but he used to be a photojournalist when he was dating my mum. He travelled a lot back then; one of his first field assignments was an expedition with Newt Scamandar, the famous magizoologist, before he retired," Luna said proudly. "Mum used to work at the Ministry - she was a researcher with the Committee on Experimental Charms. Even after I was born and she stopped working, she always insisted that magic was boundless, and that the rules which governed it were easy to bend. Too easy, I guess; one of her examinations on the limits of reversal charms went too far, and backfired."

Luna looked down sadly at her wand, which she held loosely in her hands. "This used to be hers. Daddy saved it for me after she died."

Harry sat quietly, sharing Luna's sorrow. After a few minutes, he opened up and told her about the Dursleys and how they had never given him a proper home. He talked about the hopes he had had when Sirius showed up in his life, and he realised that there could be an alternative. Harry talked about his losses that year - of Sirius, his surrogate father - but also of the Dursleys; he felt guilty for being the indirect cause of their deaths, but also regret that there was no love lost between them.

In turn, Luna told him about her family, and about how hard it was growing up without her mother. When she spoke of the good memories she had while they were still a family of three, Harry found visions of Remus and Sinéal from their summer vacation popping into his head.

After talking for a long while, Luna started shivering on the cool dungeon floor. Harry looked at his watch and was startled to see that it was almost nine o'clock.

"We really should be getting back!" he said, helping her to her feet. She rose gracefully from the floor, but didn't let go of his hand as they left the entrance chamber of the music hall. Though somewhat taken aback, Harry held on to her hand nonetheless as they climbed back out of the dungeons. She let go of him when they arrived once more in the vast Entrance Hall. The sounds of Hallowe'en merriment were still coming out of the Great Hall beside them.

"Well, goodnight," said Harry awkwardly.

"I had a good time, Mr. Leo. Goodnight!" Then, like a spectre, Luna slipped off towards the Ravenclaw house.

Exhausted from the conversation, Harry nevertheless felt like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He wore a smile as he climbed up to Gryffindor tower, up to his dorm room. He changed into pyjamas and pulled the curtains shut on his four-poster. It was a long time, though, long after his roommates returned and had themselves gone to bed, before Harry actually got to sleep. For the first time ever, Harry felt he had a Hallowe'en night that was really worth remembering.