Out of the Shelter
by Dogstar
Chapter One: The Shelter
At the sound of falling coals, Harry looked up from the bit of parchment spread on the table. "Ron? I think maybe there's someone wants you over here."
Ron was sprawled on the floor, idly leafing through a dog-eared copy of 'Numerology and Gramatica', and scarcely glanced towards the fire. "Can't be. No one's expected yet."
Harry shrugged. "How come I can see Luna Lovegood then?"
Ron swore, leapt up and ran over to the fire. "Mum'll go spare if she finds out people are dropping in uninvited ... how'd she find us – and what the hell does she want anyway?" He dropped to his knees. "Er – hi there Luna. Can I help you?"
"Hallo Ronald," said Luna vaguely, twiddling with a strand of hair that had escaped from the untidy pile secured to the top of her head by her wand. "How's Ginny? I heard she was recruited for a secret mission to check out claims of a rain of moon frogs on Alderley Edge…" Ron flushed darkly.
"Rubbish," he said in a low voice. She's just gone away for a few days to visit … er … our Great Auntie Muriel. She'll be back at the weekend."
"Ah …" Luna raised one pale eyebrow. "Harry's staying with you at the moment isn't he? Does Ginny need counselling do you think? I know a very good aura cleanser in Bristol. I could send her an owl."
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and studied his parchment intently. Saying goodbye to Ginny again so soon had been a lot more difficult than he'd expected – leaving aside his concern about what she was now attempting. It could easily backfire and end up causing Ginny more heartache – and put them all into even more danger. In their last conversation, she'd tried to explain it to him: "I have to do this Harry," she'd said. "I can't just hang around here for a whole week avoiding you and driving Mum mad – this way I get to be useful. If I can just get him to come to the wedding, we'll all be together – how it should be."
Ron and the twins (down from London for the week) had stomped and raged and attempted to intimidate Ginny out of her 'harebrained plan', without success. Finally, with Mrs Weasley's vocal and Mr Weasley's reluctant support, she'd departed for London by Floo powder. A short while afterwards, a handsome screech owl had turned up with a message saying: 'Arrived safely, discounting death by pompous rant. G'. She hadn't come straight back, so presumably had been right when she'd claimed to be the only member of the family that Percy would consider hearing out. Hermes had greeted Errol, Pig and Hedwig with less than his former dignity and hadn't seemed to want to leave the following morning.
Harry, Ron and Hermione had arrived at The Burrow from the Dursleys' the day after Harry's birthday. He and Ron had spent the next three days practising for their Apparition tests. Hermione coached them, with occasional tips from Fred and George – when they could escape from being roped into wedding preparations. Both Harry and Ron had passed, although Harry had felt like he could have done with a puff of Dudley's old asthma inhaler by the end of it.
Once that was over, he'd settled down to studying advanced defensive counter-spells from Bill's old seventh year Defence book, and others that Hermione had found in various obscure texts. On Sunday, three days from now, Harry, Ron and Hermione would leave The Burrow to start looking for the rest of the Horcruxes. In his current frame of mind, Harry was not much more help at fact-finding than he was at cake-decorating, which meant that the intricate planning fell largely to Hermione. Ron was helping her with the calculations for their route, having picked up the basics of Arithmancy surprisingly quickly. Their first brief stop would be number twelve, Grimmauld Place and Harry hadn't really thought any further ahead than that. He had to be doing something though, if only to take his mind off the Ginny-shaped absence at The Burrow. He didn't want to think about having to part from her again, only twenty-four hours after Bill and Fleur's wedding, which was being held the day after tomorrow.
"Look – it's nothing personal ..." Ron's voice filtered through. Harry shook his head to free himself from this unproductive line of thought and tuned back into the conversation taking place at floor level. It sounded as though Ron was keeping his impatience on a tight rein. "It's not a great time. We're kind of busy here. Who is it you're after?"
"Oh, didn't I say? Harry, of course. I have Neville here but he's a bit embarrassed, so I said I'd make the initial contact."
Harry dropped his piece of parchment in surprise. Looking bemused, Ron made room for Harry on the hearth rug. "Um, hello – what can I do for … er … Neville?" Harry said nervously. Neville's head appeared in the green flames, slightly squashed behind Luna's.
"Hi, Harry! Hi, Ron! Yeah … um … the thing is Harry … I know you're probably really busy and everything but Luna asked me … and, er … I wasn't sure ... and you've had experience of this sort of thing, so I thought, um …" Neville ground to a halt.
"Come on mate," said Ron. "Get to the point." Neville looked stricken. Harry couldn't imagine what Neville was driving at and sincerely hoped it had nothing to do with advice about girls, especially if it concerned Luna, whose head was still bobbing around. Before he could answer, Luna turned and whispered something inaudible in Neville's ear. Neville's head withdrew from sight with an expression of distinct relief.
"Spit it out, Loony."
Harry felt a wave of embarrassment and a strong desire to yell at Ron, Hermione-fashion. "Don't CALL her that!" he hissed as quietly as he could. Luna smiled blandly.
"OK Harry, here's the thing. I bumped into Neville this morning at St. Mungo's, in the Spell Damage corridor. I was with my father interviewing Hilda Brisket … she's another suspected Wrackspurt victim … that makes ten so far this week – someone's obviously found a way to deploy them as weapons …" Luna trailed off, looking dreamy again.
"Luna? That's really interesting – but Ron's right, we do have a lot to do, so if you could, er –"
"Cut to the chase?" Ron supplied. Luna took her time blinking, her forehead wrinkling in a gentle frown.
"Where was I? Oh yes. Neville kindly introduced me to his family. Alice and Frank are delightful, don't you agree?"
As both Harry and Ron appeared to be struck dumb at this, Luna continued. "Obviously, when they told me of their sad plight, it immediately struck me as being of immense importance to our readers," she said matter-of-factly.
"Wait a minute – how do you mean – THEY told you?"
"A figure of speech, Harry," said Luna, in a crisper voice than she normally used. "It's considered polite to talk to the patient when making a hospital visit." Did Luna say that? Harry wondered – chastened and a little amused – or had Hermione come back into the room while he wasn't looking? "Of course, Neville filled in some background details but it wasn't that difficult to understand Alice's non-verbal communication." Luna paused.
Harry was astounded. Next to him, Ron was looking bewildered. Luna swiftly resumed her explanation. "Neville was initially very reluctant to agree to an interview, in fact he adamantly refused." Go Neville, thought Harry. He wasn't at all convinced – at least not yet – about this new, supercharged version of Luna Lovegood.
"So … of course, I pointed out that greater knowledge of this terrible incident, and specifically its impact on the personal lives of Alice and Frank's family, would undoubtedly be of benefit to the wider wizarding world – as both a warning and to reinforce popular support against the Death Eaters."
Harry voiced his fears. "This had better not be some kind of Rita Skeeter number."
"No, obviously," Luna said equably. "In any case, The Quibbler doesn't tend to cover the human interest angle. My father leaves that up to Witch Weekly. But of course, this item is not right for that publication either."
"In that case – you can't mean – NOT The Daily Prophet?" Harry asked incredulously.
"No, no, no. It has to be in Neville's control – that's fundamental. Exclusive rights, no possible re-editing or journalistic agenda. We felt a different medium – a broadcast interview – would be… more appropriate. All questions to be approved in advance, in the form of a conversation between the three of us. That is – Neville, myself and – well – you. If you're willing and … er … available."
For the first time since popping up in the fire, Luna sounded dubious. However, her voice quickly picked up in confidence again. "It'll be broadcast exactly as recorded on the WWN on Sunday evening. We have a room in the Leaky Cauldron set up as a makeshift studio and we're ready to go this afternoon, if you can join us that is?" Luna completed her pitch and gazed up at Harry, eyebrows slightly raised but otherwise giving no sign of anticipation or anxiety about Harry's verdict.
"Um … well … of course I'd like to help Neville but … he's really better friends with Hermione … and she's, y' know … good at all this media stuff."
Harry really didn't fancy the prospect of a staged conversation with a tongue-tied Neville, let alone one that would be broadcast to the entire wizarding population of the British Isles. A conversation that would be still more uncomfortable, given the inside information Harry possessed about the circumstances of Neville's birth. Harry had no idea whether Neville knew that it was only by mere fluke that he wasn't walking around being hailed as the 'Chosen One', instead of Harry.
"Neville seems to think he'll find it easier …. he did say something about Hermione … um … taking over?" Luna gave a small sniff. Next to Harry, Ron looked somewhat affronted. Harry had a feeling that Luna might be interpreting Neville's views rather broadly. To Harry's knowledge, Neville had never criticised anyone, not even under extreme provocation from Malfoy – or Snape.
Snape. Harry stiffened. The reality of the threat they were living under – every moment of every day, now without even Dumbledore to protect them – snapped into clarity. It wasn't about petty, personal squeamishness any more. They were at war. Harry remembered Neville's words last year … people should know. If even Neville could overcome his timidity and come out into the spotlight, how could Harry refuse?
"And, to be honest Harry, you being present will make sure the broadcast reaches the widest possible audience." Harry barely heard Luna's concluding remark. He'd rather face Voldemort that very afternoon than do another damned interview. But … if it alerted people to the dangers of Death Eaters … walking around on the loose … as ready to torture and maim pure-blood wizards as Muggles …
"Fine, I'll do it. Good thing it's today though, or there'd have been no chance. See you both in minute." Harry stood up. Luna beamed and sank down through the flames out of sight.
"What about you Ron? Will you and Hermione be OK if I nip out for a few hours?"
"Of course we will, you berk, but can you imagine what Mum'd say if she knew you were going up to London on your own?" Ron grinned. "I'd come as well, except I'd better hang around and create a distraction – make sure you're not missed." Ron paused, considering. "Besides, Hermione'll skin us alive if we go off without her. Here, don't forget your cloak."
Ron handed Harry's Invisibility Cloak to him from where it lay in a shimmering heap next to Hermione's pile of books. "Get going. We'll cover for you. Hermione'll be back in a minute so you'd better shove off. I can't answer for her being too keen that you're going out either."
"Cheers, Ron." Harry stuffed the cloak into the inside pocket of his jacket and took a handful of silvery powder from the pot on the mantelpiece. He dropped it and climbed into the hearth, as the flames shot up with renewed vigour. "The Leaky Cauldron!" he shouted, and waited for the sudden swoop that he always found unpleasant, but preferable to relying on his still-uncertain Apparition skills. When the sickening swirl stopped, Harry opened his eyes, which took a few moments to adjust to the dim light. He saw Neville's round face first, blinking owlishly in the gloom of an unfamiliar room. Harry stepped out of the fire.