It's a few weeks after Christmas, January the 17th, 10:50 am, King's Cross station is busy as always, though I rarely stop to look up. My head is buried inside my favorite magazine, the Quibbler, which is published by my dad, Xenophilius. I finally make it to the platform, ticket tucked in-between the pages of my magazine, ready to cross through. I spy Ginny Weasley out of the corner of my eye. "Hello, Ginny," I say to her, lowering my magazine.
"Hello, Luna" Ginny says.
"How was your holiday?" I ask.
"Decent," Ginny says, "Considering."
"What about you?" she asks.
"Great," I say, "My father made me plimpy soup. He also bought me a new paint set."
"That's nice," Ginny says.
"Where's Ron?" I ask, "I haven't heard from him in a long time."
"Oh," Ginny says, "Ron's still got Spattergroit."
She adds, "It looks like he won't be going to school the rest of this year unfortunately."
I detect a large flicker of sadness in her eyes. Though I know Ron must've gone off with Harry and Hermione on the secret mission I know they've been planning for years, I don't mention it. I don't want to cause poor Ginny anymore pain than she already has. "I hope he'll be okay," I say, "I'll miss him dearly."
"Me too," Ginny says, "Let's go, shall we?"
I take her hand and we pass through the platform. As my feet touch the ground, my butter beer cap necklace tickles my neck. I tuck it into my read turtleneck. My turnip earrings bounce in my ears. I reach down to pick up my bag and we board the train. We walk a few feet and find an empty compartment. It wasn't hard to find, like many other years. There are so many less students than normal. Curious.
We sit down opposite each other and as the train roars to a start, Ginny asks, "How's your dad?"
"Good," I say, "He's very busy with the Quibbler. And our house is infested with nargles. Ever since Christmas. It's the mistletoe they like, you know."
"Oh no!" Ginny says, "Any luck getting rid of them?"
"Not really," I say, "I prefer to let them be as long as they don't cause any major damage. I'm just worried about what my dad'll do when I'm gone."
"That's me as well," Ginny says, "My Dad's mad as a hatter lately."
"Better check him for wrackspurts. They make your brain go fuzzy you know."
"It must be," Ginny says, smiling, clearly not believing me completely.
"Is that the new Quibbler?" Ginny asks.
I hand it to her and say, "There's a great interview about Moon Frogs in there my father did."
"Really," Ginny says, turning the pages.
"A man flew to the moon on a Cleansweep Six and brought back a bag of moon frogs to prove it."
"It says here that Harry's whereabouts are still unknown. I don't suppose you've heard from him, have you?" Ginny asks.
I know Ginny isn't listening to me completely, her mind focused on her love and worry for Harry. I miss him. I see the headline, Support Potter: Our Only Hope. "No," I say, "I haven't heard anything."
I add, "My father thinks he's got some sort of secret plan. Did Harry ever mention anything to you about it?"
"No," she says, "I was with him all summer and he never said a word."
Her nose twitches with anger. I know she wishes she could have gone along. "I wouldn't expect him to," I say, "Harry's a man of few words."
"I just hope he's alright," Ginny says, "It would kill me if anything happened to him."
Suddenly there's a knock at the door to the compartment. I look up as he slides it open. "Hello, Neville," I say.
"Hey Luna," he says, "Ginny."
"What's going on?" Ginny asks, as Neville looks troubled.
"Seamus spotted a dementor outside the train."
"A dementor?" Ginny says, half in disbelief.
"I don't know why you're surprised," Neville says, "It's common practice now."
"I know," Ginny says, "They still scare the living hell out of me."
He nods and sits down. "Seamus and Lee are searching the train. I'm passing the word along."
Suddenly the train comes to a screeching halt. Neville and Ginny simultaneously pull out their wands. "I knew something was happening," Neville said.
Ice starts forming across the window, bleeding downwards, upwards, crystalizing all the way round. This takes me back to third year, when something so very similar to this happened. Thankfully Professor Lupin was there to put a stop to it. Though we can conjure patronuses ourselves now.
"Where is she?" I hear someone belt as they enter the train close by to us.
Ginny shuts her eyes. I know they're coming for her. I draw my own wand out from behind my ear as I see a large black figure through the pane of the glass.
Ginny roars, "Expecto Patronum!" and a stunning silver stallion gallops towards them and fades away.
"Oi" the man yells, "In here!"
He slides the door open with his wand and comes inside. "Greyback!" Neville shouts.
I've heard the stories about Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf with a lust for humans. I've gotten a few glimpses of him, just glimpses, but he has a face that you don't just forget. "I won't let you take her!" I say, standing up to face him.
"Luna, don't!" Ginny says.
"Shut up," Fenrir says, as his fellow death eaters close in around him.
The two death eaters draw their wants and say simultaneously, "Expelliarmus!"
Fenrir Greyback's wand sails through the air. He looks back at the other two as Neville screams, "Petrificus Totalus!"
Greyback falls to the floor, on his face, frozen, as the two death eaters behind him whip off their masks. "Seamus?" Neville says, "Lee?"
"The idiot didn't even notice," Lee Jordan says.
"What happened?" Ginny asks.
"We felt the train stop and heard the door open. We hid in an empty compartment nearby and snuck up behind the bastard," Seamus says.
"Thank you, Seamus," I say.
He nods in appreciation. "We'd better get a move on," Neville says, "The spell's going to wear off, or his friends will be back. Either way, I don't want to find out."
"Where are we supposed to go?" Ginny asks.
"Dunno," Neville says, "Somewhere that's not here."
"We have to get off the train," Seamus says.
We run out of the compartment and deeper into the train, searching for a way out. A black swirl suddenly appears out of nowhere, no doubt a death eater coming for us. "Expectopatronum!" I say, waving my wand at them, but they cast my silver rabbit away.
The death eater materializes in front of us as Neville, Lee, Seamus, and I close in around Ginny to form a circle to protection. The death eater laughs and slashes off their mask. "Malfoy," Ginny hisses behind me.
Lucius Malfoy stands before us looking bedraggled and sad. His eyes are sunken in, dark circles eclipsing them. He looks as though he's barely slept, never-mind ready for a kidnapping. He presses his left wrist and five other death eaters appear, swirling around us, grabbing us. I don't dare throw a spell out, everyone is moving so fast. It makes me dizzy.
Eventually the movement stops swirling around us as I feel a sack draped over my head and all goes black. I hear Ginny scream my name. I smell smoke and at that very instant I hear the familiar woosh and I know that we must've apparated.
A large man moves past me and slams into my shoulders. I shutter. "Neville?" I whisper, "Ginny?" "Seamus?" Lee?"
My whispers go unanswered, swirl away from me, never to be heard by my friends ears. I can only hope that they got away safely, unharmed. My friends mean the world to me. And my father, whom I hope I'll get to see soon. My hands are bound behind my back now, my wand separated from me. A man pushes me along a path, slightly uphill, almost reminiscent of the path at Hogwarts that leads up to the carriages that I love so much. My stomach rumbles. I miss the thestrals.
"Come along," a scruffily-voiced man demands of me.
He's breathing hard and fast and talks in a voice I've never yet come to hear. It's almost like words mixed with sand paper; entirely rough.
Someone grabs the back of my jumper, I can only assume the scruffily-voiced man, and he half drags me up a set of four stairs. He sets me right on my feet again. Someone knocks with a heavy knocker on the door. A few seconds later I hear it creak open. "Well well well, what do we have here?" a shrill, pretentious voice scoffs.
The bag is ripped off of my head though I still see half blackness. It takes a moment for my eyes to focus. When they finally do I see the woman who killed Sirius, Bellatrix Lestrange, and a skunk-haired woman whom I do not recognize. "Loony Lovegood," she croons, but I do not take her bait to respond.
"Is that who you are, Loony Luna Lovegood?" she murmurs in a child-like voice.
I still say nothing, I'd rather not provoke her. Clearly the wrackspurts have slowed her mind. Otherwise, she would have been able to recognize friend in Sirius and foe in He Who Must Not Be Named. I shudder at the thought of him. "Answer me when I talk to you!" she screams, a half inch from my face.
Why give her the satisfaction? She moves her face away and then comes back in, brandishing a knife, putting it to my throat. "I thought I asked you, are you Luna Lovegood?" she hisses, tongue roiling with anger, "Was I mistaken?" she breathes.
"I am," I say calmly, after all, she finally said my name right.
"What a stupid girl!" she yells, cackling with her friends, not realizing that she's the one who looks foolish.
She grabs me by the hair and lifts me up, dragging me through the halls. "You will listen to me," she barks, "You will answer me, or you will die."
"I never did respond much to death threats, Miss Lestrange," I says, "But if you ask me nicely, I'll tell you all I know."
She cackles, grips me harder, and slams my face into the stone floor five times. She picks my head back up and continues dragging me through what I can assume is a home, though it is cold, sullen, and entirely grey.
After a moment or two we come to a set of doors, which swing open. She lets me go, but first swings me around, and throws me across the room. I slide and skid across the floor, only coming to a stop when I smash into the wall beside the fireplace. I feel a river of blood run down my neck, down into my shirt. I close my eyes as I face the wall, not knowing what awaits me as I turn over. My heart pounds as my head does. "Look at this thing!" Bellatrix bellows, "Helpless."
The room erupts with laughter. I turn over to face them a few seconds later. There are so many faces, too many, in fact, to look at. Bellatrix stands in the center, nose pointed upward and full to the brim with pride. Lucius Malfoy has his arm around the skunk-haired woman, who I assume now if his wife, Draco's mother. I am surprised to see that their son, Draco, stands next to them, a foot away, separated, looking even more exhausted than his father. That's saying a lot.
The other faces in the room are mostly unrecognizable. I see Fenrir Greyback once again and a few other men he usually prowls around with. I would estimate that there are at least twenty in the room, a dining room of sorts, though it is larger than any I've seen, second to Hogwarts.
"Welcome," Bellatrix says, walking towards me, "To Malfoy Manor," she says, throwing her hands up to suggest its opulence and grandeur.
"Why am I hear?" I ask.
"You will speak when spoken to!" she screams, throwing a chair over towards me, though it does not reach me.
"Nonetheless," she says, "I will answer the question."
She begins to pace back and forth in a very small space. "You are here," she says, "Because of your father's crimes."
"What crimes?" I say quietly, surprised.
"He was aiming to sully the Dark Lord's name," she says, circling close to me like a shark, "He was supporting Potter."
She said his name with such disgust and disdain, such negative emotion I don't think I could ever muster. "What's that have to do with me?"
"You're his friend," she hisses, "His friend!" she yells, "And the crackpot old Xeno's daughter!"
"You are here because your father lacks the proper respect," she says, "I will not tolerate someone speaking ill of my Dark Lord."
"My Dark Lord, Miss?" I say.
"Oh, what's it to you?" she screams, close to my face again, "He is my Dark Lord and I am his servant. And you will treat me with respect!"
"Now that that's over," she says, "We can move on."
"What do you know about Potter's whereabouts?" she demands.
"Nothing," I say, "I haven't seen him in months."
"Noone has," I add.
She picks up my head, squeezes my chin and slithers, "You are absolutely certain you've heard nothing," she pauses and adds, "Nothing at all?"
"Yes," I breathe, not able to move my jaw.
She releases my face and screams, "Pettigrew!"
"Yes, Miss Lestrange," says a strange man with a sparkling silver hand.
"Take her to the cellar," she barks.
"Yes ma'am," he says, scurrying towards me.
He guides me forcefully to a door. He open it and instructs me to climb down. We reach the end of the stairs and he flicks on the light. He brandishes his wand as I look around. I see a crumpled figure in the corner, and a goblin sitting beside him. They do not look in our direction. He pushes me forward and says, "You will not escape," he pause to brandish his crooked wand higher, "There's no way out. You will stay here with the other deceivers."
He turns from me, scurries up the stairs, and extinguishes the light. The room turns black. I walk towards the crumpled person and the goblin offering my name, "I am Luna Lovegood."
"Luna," the voice of the crumpled man croons, "I remember you. Oak, dragon heartstring, nine inches, reasonably pliant."
"Mr...Ollivander?" I ask.
"It's him," the Goblin says, "I'm Griphook."
"Pleasure to meet you, Griphook," I say, "What's wrong with him?"
"He was tortured and beaten by... You Know Who," he says.
"Would you mind if I took a look at him?" I say.
"Not at all," Griphook says, "Not my problem."
Griphook stands up and sits a few feet away, watching me try to help Mr. Ollivander. "It's going to be alright, Mr. Ollivander," I say, "We'll make it out of this."
"You maybe," he says, "I don't know about me."
"But who will everyone get their wands from?" I say, "All the children?"
"There are other wand-makers about," he says, "Besides, soon the death eaters won't even permit the owning of a wand."
"I don't believe that," I say, "Harry will come. He will most definitely come."
"You must understand, Young Luna Lovegood," he chokes out, coughing, "Harry will try, yes, but the chances of Harry succeeding are slim at best."
"I'd rather him have a slim chance than none," I say.
"You don't know what he's up against. He Who Must Not Be Named has a weapon that could end this war," he says, "That will end this war."
"Still," he says, "I can foresee a fight before this is over."
"I don't like fighting much," I say, "But if it comes down to it, I trust in Harry."
"You are a very good friend, Young Luna, very loyal. A good friend like you will serve him well."
Some may call me flighty and ditzy but I know in my heart that Harry Potter will come, he will save us, he has to. Though the burden on him is so heavy. I wish I was there for my friends. At least I have Mr. Ollivander and Griphook, we are strange companions, but companions nonetheless. Wit, compassion, loyalty, and and understanding will see us through our trouble. I know that much. And I'll never stop believing it.