Artemis Rising, a harry potter fanfic

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make a profit from Harry Potter or Supernatural.

Rating: T

Spoilers: Everything for Harry Potter, including the epilogue of DH. Everything for Supernatural until season six.

Summary: Sometimes it seems her life went full circle. Or twenty facts about Luna Lovegood. Slight Supernatural cross.

Author's Note: I know, this is the third twenty facts thing I've done, but I really like doing them. This one is mostly about Luna Lovegood, although there's a bit of a story about Hermione in the background. There are a couple blink and you miss them cameo appearances from Supernatural characters and places.

I'm seriously considering adding a second part to this, about before Luna became Luna. I'm also considering writing a full length story where number 15, and as a result the rest of the HP universe change. Unlike this, it would be very obviously a Supernatural crossover.

Artemis Rising

Luna Lovegood sometimes felt that she had sprung from Remus Lupin and Xenophilius Lovegood's minds as a fully formed thirteen year old much as Athena had sprung fully formed from Zeus's forehead. She began her life that lonely August day shortly before her-Luna's, that is-third year. The only thing Remus and Xenophilius had permitted her to choose, after that initial decision of what to do with herself, was her name. Luna Diana in honor of the late Mrs. Selene Lovegood and Artemis; the goddess of the moon and hunters and childbirth. It seemed appropriate, all things considered.

Ginny's two faced friendship-she knew quite well that while Ginny pretended to be her friends to her face, she called her Loony and other rather nasty names behind her back-did not particularly bother Luna. They had never been childhood friends-despite what Ginny's memories said-although Luna hated to think about how Ginny treated her real friends… If she had any real friends.

Wrackspurts and Nargles and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks actually did exist-there was much Hermione did not know and her chronic skepticism and research did not aid her in her quest for the truth in the case of anything to do with the creatures Luna generally spoke about. Of course, there were certain… trials and processes one had to go through to be capable of seeing these creatures. Not that she would ever wish such things on her worst enemy, let along a sort-of-friend such as Hermione.

One thing every Ravenclaw could agree on was that there was something seriously wrong with Loony Lovegood. Part of it was doubtless that she was a snake masquerading as a raven-not that anybody other than Luna and Xenophilius and Remus would ever connect Luna Lovegood with the strange Slytherin girl a year above her who had been removed from Hogwarts for "health reasons" in the middle of her third year. The wards and spells made sure of that. Or perhaps it was just that a human could not encounter such horrifying eldritch powers and come away from such an experience unchanged.

Despite what Luna told anybody who asked, she did not gain the ability to see dementors through witnessing the death of her "mother," Selene Lovegood. In fact until that night in the Department of Mysteries when Sirius Black fell through the Veil of Death, she had never seen another living being die. Luna was living proof that one did not necessarily need to see a death to see thestrals, one merely had to understand death. Of course, she was one of only a handful of witches and wizards who could honestly say that while their body had not died, their soul had passed on, only to be drawn back to the world of the living and by extension their bodies by an outside force.

There was perhaps only one person who Luna really felt close to while at Hogwarts-only one person who actually saw Luna and not Loony. Luna had always been fond of Harry-even before she became Luna. Not that Harry connected Luna with the Slytherin girl he'd occasionally shared a library table with when they met again on the ride to Hogwarts the beginning of his fifth year, her fourth. He thought her odd, she knew, but never once did he talk about her unkindly or behind her back.

Speaking to Harry about the thestrals was a test, of sorts. One Harry didn't quite manage to pass. That didn't mean he was a failure, just that he was still too close minded. While the Defense Association was a step in the right direction, Luna knew that he was not yet ready-and might never be ready-to hear about his Peverell heritage and all that it entailed. So she sat back and waited, watching him oh-so-discreetly.

Luna asked if they were speaking about Stubby Boardman more out of curiosity than anything else. She could not help but be shocked that-judging by the look in their eyes-it was Hermione, not Harry who recognized the name.

According to the story she'd heard from a highly amused Xenophilius and a mortified Remus shortly before she became Luna, while tracking down a rather nasty necromancer during the First War with Voldemort, the Marauders had run afoul of a group of hunters. Xenophilius-a somewhat infamous hunter even back then-had come to the Marauder's rescue, explaining that there were a band called the Hobgoblins, and really, everybody knew that musicians had no common sense when it came to the occult. Xenophilius, of course, never quite let them live down their time as the Hobgoblins; Johnny Porter the lead singer, Stubby Boardman on guitar, Rob Lance the bassist, and Paul Parker on drums-although his teasing grew gentler once Remus became his apprentice in 1982.

In the confusion of the capture by the Inquisitorial Squad and then their escape and wild ride to the Ministry on the backs of thestrals, Luna did not have a chance to think of the possible implications of this-or why, for that matter, Hermione pretended not see the thestrals-until much, much later.

It was tempting, oh-so-very-tempting to give in and let the Veil of Death take her. But she was stranger than that. She would not give in. Harry of course heard the voices as well, if not quite as clearly. He was progressing well, if not quite as quickly as Luna would have preferred. The way he threw that horrid necromantic abomination calling itself Voldemort from his mind later on in the evening-particularly given the Horcrux attached to his scar-just proved that maybe Harry was more formidable than she'd given him credit for.

Luna smiled absently and posted her list of personal possessions which had… not-so-mysteriously grown legs and walked away. Betty and Marta, her roommates just thought that there were harmless tricks-and Luna was inclined to agree. What were a couple stolen objects in comparison to what she'd already experienced? From Morag and Eloise, the Ravenclaws a year above her, it was in some ways absolutely devastating. The three of them had been very good friends. Except, she reminded herself far too often, Morag and Eloise had never been friends with Luna.

She knew that Harry invited her to Slughorn's little Christmas get-together at Hermione's urging and that Harry went along with it because he knew she would be amusing. Luna was willing to oblige his expectations. Not that he believed her about the Rotfang Conspiracy. But then, few ever believed what the Unspeakables were up to, even when presented with evidence. Of course, he didn't need to know that she and Xenophilius had taken care of the Rotfang Conspiracy that past summer. Or that she'd been learning to hunt-the true Lovegood family business-since she had joined the family.

The night Dumbledore committed assisted suicide with Snape's aid, Luna came to the inescapable conclusion that Harry was not, and would likely never be ready. He was too close minded, too immature and far, far too secure in his belief in how the world worked. She found herself nowhere near as surprised as she probably should have been when Hermione revealed her skepticism about Harry's version of events, mentioning absently that she'd researched the curse that had all but destroyed Dumbledore's left arm. It was universally fatal, unless one was willing to ask a necromancer for aid.

"Of course," Hermione had said, "a light wizard such as Dumbledore would never deal with a user of blood magic like a necromancer. Never mind that necromancy is neither inherently evil or good. It depends mostly upon intent."

Both girls carefully ignored the subtle sarcasm lacing her voice.

Luna remembered little from the Muggle school she'd attended in her childhood, but there was one thing which had always stuck with her: All it takes for evil to win is for good men to do nothing. At least, that's what Luna thought the man-Winston Churchill? she wasn't sure-had said. So she helped Neville and Ginny reform the Defense Association and resist Snape's rule as Headmaster. Subtly, she directed them away from Snape and toward the Carrows. Never once did she comment on how he did what he could to protect them-just as he had when she was a Slytherin. They didn't need to know that-it wasn't like they would care or that they could be trusted to keep a secret, should they face torture.

Being captured and held prisoner in the Malfoy dungeon actually wasn't that bad. Not for Luna, at least. Part of it was simply that they needed her alive and whole to keep Xenophilius in check. She held no ill will toward Xenophilius for not rescuing her before Harry and Ron and Hermione did so-he had a cover to keep and Luna was more than capable of rescuing herself. In fact, she could have rescued herself at any point, but had chosen not to, so that she could gather more information on Voldemort's plans.

It was Luna who found Hermione that March night after their escape from Malfoy Manor. Fleur a step behind her, had taken one look at Hermione and all but slammed the door shut in Ron's face. She held Hermione as she cried while Fleur cleaned her up and healed her to the best of her abilities. The Cruciatus Curse wouldn't cause a miscarriage, but the bruised on her body and broken ribs suggested somebody had worked her over during the interrogation. Neither Luna nor Fleur gave any hint of what had happened, respecting Hermione's request not to let anybody else know that she had been three months pregnant or that she'd lost the baby.

The next morning, the two girls-women, really-went out into the back garden, near where Dobby had been buried. Luna built a small pyre made of fire wood Fleur had pointed out to her. Fleur had been horrified by the very thought of cremation and had refused to attend. Hermione lay the clothing and sheets she'd bled on-it had the placenta and fetus wrapped within it-upon the pyre and said a short prayer in a language Luna didn't recognize. Using a spark of magic, Hermione lit the wood on fire wordlessly. The duo watched silently until only ash was left. Hermione picked up a stone the size of her head from the garden and carved something into it with her wand before placing it on the ground where the pyre had been. It read:

Persephone Lilliana Granger

1998

"It was a good funeral," said Luna, drawing Hermione away at the sounds of people stirring within the cottage.

A hunter's funeral, she thought.

The Peverell brothers had been hunters-they were still legendary in some circles-and the so-called Deathly Hallows had been some of their most famous tools. With the Death Stick, one could kill even a demon. The Resurrection Stone allowed one to speak to the dead-particularly those killed by the supernatural or troublesome ghosts. As for the Cloak of Invisibility, its use was rather obvious.

When Luna Learned that Harry left the Resurrection Stone in the Forbidden Forest and put the Death Stick back in Dumbledore's tomb, she realized Harry would never be ready. He was quite the survivor, amazing in a fight, and good at spotting and solving a mystery, but he would never be hunter material. He just didn't see things as a hunter would.

The next day, when Luna went to retrieve the Death Stick, it was already gone. Brow furrowed, she went on to search the Forbidden Forest for the Resurrection Stone. All she found was a familiar scrap of cloth caught on a tree and a couple strands of long dark hair. Hermione, she knew, had not been in this part of the forest during the Battle of Hogwarts.

"How can you watch them like this?" asked Luna, the first Hogsmeade weekend of their shared seventh year.

Hermione turned away from the sight of Ginny and Harry holding hands. She and Luna were in a corner of the Three Broomsticks, getting a butterbeer while Hermione waited for Ron. "It's for the best."

"I thought you and Harry were together last year. Persephone-"

"Only one night. We were weak. We'd had a bad night-almost eaten by Nagini, almost caught-and we made a mistake. I never told him." She let out a sigh and repeated, "It was for the best. Did you know I tried to get you and Harry together during our sixth year?"

"Yes." Luna looked down and admitted, "I could have had him before Ginny stuck her claws into him, but even then, I think I knew he wasn't the man I hopes he was."

Luna ran her fingers around the edge of her wine glass, making a musical noise as she watched what had to be the tallest man other than Hagrid she'd ever seen playing pool. She was in Palo Alto because of a series of omens which could only have come from a demon. She'd already exorcised a demon from a law professor at Stanford University and felt she could use a night off.

She smiled invitingly when the man approached the bar for a fresh drink. He smiled back and said, "Hi, I'm Sam."

"Luna." She nodded at the dart board. "Do you want to play a game?"

Before he could answer, another man came over-Brady, according to what Sam said. After greeting Sam he lured him away, saying, "You know that hot girl I told you about from my history class? Rachel brought her. You have to meet her."

There was something off about this Brady person, but Luna couldn't bring herself to care. She was just too tired.

Luna met Rolf at a hunter bar in the middle of nowhere called the Roadhouse a couple years later. A whirlwind romance consisting of four ghosts, a coven of three witches, two demon exorcisms, and a boggart led to an elopement in Las Vegas. She did so like a man who knew his way around a hunt.

Luna put her hand on her stomach, a natural mannerism now that she was pregnant with twins. She looked at the tombstone, leaving Hermione to the silence she seemed to crave.

"I didn't know you were in the country," said Hermione, her arms wrapped around the noticeably curve of her own pregnancy.

"I'm staying with Daddy until the twins are a couple months old."

"You don't want them around an active hunter until they're born and a little durable, I'm assuming." She motioned toward her own baby bump. "I'm out of hunting entirely until my children are safely at Hogwarts-although I suppose calling Hogwarts safe would be… false advertising."

"Was it ever actually safe during the time we attended?"

Hermione snorted. "What school were you attending? It wasn't even close to safe."

Luna nodded at the grave. "You look like him."

"I should. The majority of us Muggle-Borns are the illegitimate offspring of wizards." She gave a watery smile, "He never openly acknowledged I was his daughter-for obvious reasons-but I learned a lot of what I know about hunting-and more obscure branches of magic-from him and his family."

"He saved my life," admitted Luna.

"I know."

"Are you alright? You seem to be suffering from a Nargle infestation." Luna couldn't quite keep the quaver from her voice.

"You were kissed by a dementor," pointed out Hermione. "Dumbledore might have managed to cover it up with the confusion of Harry nearly falling to his death, but you know as well as I that not all of us are so unobservant." She let out a little laugh. "How do you think your soul was put back into your body anyway? Short of a deal with a demon or a reaper, the only way to do that is necromancy."

"You were the necromancer they used," Luna said, suddenly connecting all the pieced of the puzzle that was Hermione Granger-uh, Weasley.

"Dad didn't really want me to be involved, but Grandmother said I was ready."

"Why?"

"We may not have always gotten along, but I would never have left your soul in that dementor's stomach, Sally-Anne."