Chapter 3: Practical Theology

Sunday, September 17, 1995

What Harry needed was someone who did not allow Wizarding prejudices to get in their way. Maybe … someone who refused to buy the standard line on house elves?

"Ok, Hermione, what do you know about Wizards and Gods?"

She looked up from the massive tome she had open on the reading room desk. It had taken Harry quite a while to locate Hermione this evening, as he had never known about the little private rooms that were concealed within the library walls. The Marauder's Map was unfailingly accurate, though, and finally Madam Pince had taken pity on the boy (and preserved the hush in her library) by showing him how to detect and unlatch each of the study carrels. And fortunately, in private, Hermione wasn't about to abandon a friend (although she had regretfully explained that she just couldn't afford to befriend him in public.)

"There's nothing to tell, Harry. There's no such thing as God." Her tone was a little bitter, and Harry could tell that there was some history there.

"Really? Last year, you were telling us in the common room that there's no possible way to prove a negative, like if something doesn't exist. So how did you manage to figure that out?"

Hermione looked taken aback, and she turned away from the open tome. "You remember that?"

Harry nodded. "You really push me to do the best I can, and you try to get me to find a future instead of being a road bump on Voldemort's path to power. I may not always understand what you are telling me, but I try to pay attention and remember it."

Hermione visibly swallowed. "I'm … I'm … flattered, I guess. I just … um, I guess that I had no idea that you paid any attention."

"Well, I do, and now I want to know how you managed to do the impossible. You did say that it was impossible right?"

Hermione sighed, and it wasn't a simple expression of frustration. This was a bone-weary expression of near despair, and Harry was obscurely saddened to hear this from his long-time friend. "I know God does not exist, because if He did, things we've seen would not have happened."

Harry's mouth twitched. "Really? God doesn't act the way I want, so He can't possibly exist? Hermione Granger is the ultimate arbiter of how God should act? And I'm your friend – that's got to be some pretty good pull in the karma department, right?" Harry was upbeat, as he had been able to sleep well for the past four nights – no nightmares.

Hermione smirked a little in response. "That does sound a little arrogant, doesn't it? No, I mean that we've seen V… Voldemort's shade escape death. If there is any kind of, of, lawgiver for supernatural law, than V, V, Voldemort would have to pay for his crimes, or, well, sins, I guess. No punishment, so no law, so no lawgiver." She sighed again, expressing bitterness and disappointment. "It's not arrogance, Harry. It's simple reasoning. There is no kindly father in the sky that will pat us on the head and make it all better. We're on our own, Harry, and nothing will save us if we don't do it ourselves."

Harry let her words sit between them for a moment. "I can tell that you've put some thought into this. And I have learned to not bet against you." He leaned closer to her, looking deep into her eyes. "But you did tell me once that a third year can't create a corporeal patronus. And if I had asked on October 30, 1991, you would have told me that a first year couldn't defeat a troll." He stood up straight. "You've made up your mind. I won't argue. I appreciate the chance to talk to you about this."

"Of course, Harry. You're important."

Harry faked a look of astonishment. "As important as that big, thick book you're ignoring to talk to me? Wow! I really have arrived!"

She almost giggled, and almost pushed him through the door. "Prat!"

Harry let himself out. But not important enough to let people know that I'm worth your time. Not important enough for you to act like a friend where you have to deal with being counted with me. Harry's circle of friends – already small to start with – shrank by one. To zero. He was appreciative of her help … but friendship was a big enough deal to Harry that serious obligations were attached. Hermione didn't want to meet those commitments; she was no longer a friend. Harry felt a small sense of loss, but deep down, he knew that he was better off only depending on those that would actually support him. Which at the moment was … no-one.

It was interesting, though – Hermione supported Harry through the Tri-Wizard stupidity last year, the dementor swarms two years ago, and the 'Heir of Slytherin' mess before that … and then she bails when Harry is marked as a pariah because of ignorance? Something didn't add up.

Harry shrugged to himself. Hermione's foibles were no longer his problem. I may need a friend, but I'm not going to beg for one. Sod them all.

-o-

Wednesday, September 20, 1995

That evening, Harry was idly exploring the castle. Hogwarts had seven floors, two basement levels, several wings, six main towers (five if you didn't count the Headmaster's office – and almost 30 if you counted all the minor spires), and was really designed for many more students (and staff) that it currently held. The Marauder's Map was great for helping him find people, but there were hallways and classrooms and balconies and nooks that weren't occupied for years on end. The house-elves did what they could, but the sense of abandonment was palpable once you got above the fourth floor in most areas.

Wandering the castle was the one way Harry had found to unwind from a night of terrors, watching Voldemort kill people with a sadistic thrill. Two days ago, Harry had woken up screaming, having dreamt of Voldemort and his band of morally deprived apes burning a muggle family to death in their beds. Then yesterday, Harry had glimpsed the front page of the Daily Prophet; the lead story was the Dark Mark over the site of a muggle family's death where they – and their young 5-year-old witch daughter – had been sealed in their house and burned. They're true. They're all true. Harry shuddered. If each of his nightmares were an actual, live scene of Death Eaters at work … how many people have they killed since last June? Twenty? Thirty five? Through force of will, Harry pushed the mental pictures aside, and went back to exploring.

Harry found several rooms on the sixth floor that had been set up as (possibly) illicit hidey-holes for lustful encounters, one that was so ghastly and lurid that it must have been decorated by a color-blind wizard with access to muggle hallucinogens. One seemed recently used (which really made him careful about what he touched), and there was a further room set up as an abandoned potions lab; two cauldrons were encased in a shimmering flow of magic that Harry suspected stopped the brewing process, but the rest of the room indicated that there hadn't been anyone around for decades. Harry cautiously didn't touch anything there, either.

On his way back to the more trafficked parts of Hogwarts, he was stopped by sounds that woke him from his daze.

"Strip, you bitch!" Oddly, the voice demanding this was female. "Let's see if your floozle-wumpers can get you back your wand!"

Ah, bullying. Harry's eyes narrowed. Maybe I'll get to hurt someone. The shunning he had been going through really made him want to lash out, and here was a perfect opportunity. And Voldesnort's nightly torture sessions made him want to lash out hard. He put his hand on his wand, took a deep breath, and walked around the corner.

In a flat, uncompromising tone, Harry said, "Hi, I'm a floozle-wumper." He looked at the three girls – Ravenclaw robes, upper years. One was Mandy Brocklehurst, the expression on her face decreasing her attractiveness quite a bit; the other two were behind her and spread out, but with no wands out. Mandy is leading this. All three girls seemed a little unnerved by his unexpected appearance.

Harry approached way too close to Brocklehurst – she backed up a step involuntarily – and stared her in the eyes. "You give back everything you took, vow to leave her alone in the future, and I'll leave you alone. Pay attention to her, and I'll … pay attention … to you." His voice was flat and hard.

Brocklehurst seemed frozen and didn't respond. Harry tried again. "Fair?" He narrowed his eyes a bit. He was spoiling for a fight, and was sure that his desires were leaking a little. Brocklehurst's eyes widened at Harry's cheap shot, shook her head to clear it, and backed away, flanked by her two goons. The wand in her hand was tossed to the floor in front of Harry, and they turned to walk quickly down the hall.

Harry rotated to see who he had defended. She was a slight girl, quite blonde, with warm grey eyes and an air of distractibility – clothed, fortunately. For two reasons, at least. She was looking all around, but not quite at Harry, twisting to follow the apparent flight of invisible things.

Harry chose to break the ice after several seconds of silence from the girl. "And you are..?"

She seemed to snap back to the here and now. "Oh, yes, I'm Luna Lovegood." Her attention was immediately pulled away by … something.

Harry picked up her wand from where it lay on the floor. He looked down at her – she was such a petite little thing – and silently offered it to her. She didn't seem to notice for a few moments, but while her attention was apparently following something in the air, her hand reached out and deposited the wand behind her ear. Hm. Haven't seen that before.

"Luna … Luna …" Harry decided to go on without evidence of actual communication. "If you have any more issues with bullies – those girls or any others – you let me know, and I'll take care of it. Okay?"

Luna's gaze was all over the place, but she still was able to respond, "Oh, that's okay. You don't have to bother." Her voice was a disinterested sing-song.

For some reason, (perhaps because he didn't get enough confrontation with the bullies) Harry found that almost infuriating. He reached out and gently turned Luna's head toward him and looked her in the eyes. "I know I don't have to. I choose to." He released her chin and straightened up. "People don't think that I'm a good friend these days, but I can still take out the bullies. You don't have to be friends with me for that." A note of self-pity had crept into his voice, and Harry hated that, and it led to him revealing more than he had intended.

Luna's gaze fixated on Harry as she considered. "Are you willing to be friends?" Her voice was markedly less airy.

Harry snorted, "Yep. But since I got tripped up by an obscure Wizarding custom, nobody will talk with me. Except Snape," he added with a half-smirk. "But I don't think that can really be classified as human interaction."

Luna didn't crack a smile. "I don't have any friends."

"I know what that feels like. The loneliness just wears on you." Harry hesitated. "You don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable, but I can't see why you don't have friends. I mean, you're pretty, and you're in Ravenclaw so you're smart, and you see things I can't, so I'd think that most of Ravenclaw would be lined up to talk to you, and just about any boy that can ..." Harry trailed off, "make intelligent conversation …" He reconsidered with a full-on smirk. "OK, so most guys are out. But that still leaves the female half of the 'Claws."

Luna ducked her head as Harry spoke. In a small voice, she responded, "They think I'm making up the things I see. They make fun of me and take my things."

Harry snorted. "I can fix that." He frowned. "At least some of it." Harry took a deep breath. "Perhaps you could point out that a true Ravenclaw would design an experiment to prove that what you see is really there, and not just a figment of your imagination. I mean, anyone with any intelligence sometimes wonders if they are experiencing an illusion or reality, right? Maybe they could design an experiment to prove that what you see is real." Silently, he winced, but he had to go on and say it. "And even if what you see really exists, there is the possibility that your interpretation of what you see isn't completely correct. For instance," he hastily added, "I'm talking, alone, with a pretty girl; an objective observer could easily read some romantic intent into our conversation, even though we know there isn't any."

Luna tilted her head to the side and frowned. "You want me to sidetrack them into an argument of noumenon versus phenomenon? But that's a completely pointless … oh!" Her face suddenly sported a brilliant smile. "That's brilliant! Thank you, Harry!" Luna darted forward and Harry was experiencing a tight hug. Less desperate-seeming than Hermione's, Luna simply enfolded Harry in her arms and shared her acceptance with him. His initial reaction was to stiffen his neck and chest where she touched him – don't be soft, don't be vulnerable – but that soon eased as he accepted her … approval. After the days of isolation that Harry had experienced, he had to actively repress the tears that threatened, unbidden, to fall from his face. It helped to distract Harry from what she said, which made absolutely no sense at all to him – so he fell back on his Hermione-skills and ignored it.

Eventually (and part of Harrys heart protested, much too soon) Luna drew back. She checked the time with a quick Tempus charm, and said, "Oh, it is time to get to supper. But Harry?"

He mumbled, "Yes," not being completely recovered.

Luna's face looked a little uncertain. "I think that you probably haven't been told the truth about why you have been ostracized. Can we meet after supper so I can explain it?"

"Sure!" Harry couldn't suppress his sudden spike of joy, although it wasn't for Ravenclaw reasons. Harry tried not to think about why a promise of human interaction would lift his spirits so much.

-o-

After dinner, Harry and Luna walked up to a promising room on the 5th floor. From the color scheme, it seemed to be excess storage for the Hufflepuff common room, with comfy yellow chairs, stools, ottomans, and various tables (which were all in black.) The elves had kept the dust away, so there was no indication if this room had been frequented recently (or ever) – but Harry and Luna both felt that the 'Puff reputation for friendliness meant that they wouldn't object to a brief 'borrowing' of the items.

Luna began, "Harry, I don't think that you've ever been taught the Wizarding world's idea of where magic comes from." Harry indicated that she was correct. "But what it boils down to is that there was a magical land called Atlantis, and they grew very powerful. They tried to bend the laws of magic itself, instead of working with them. Eventually, God sent an angel to punish the people of Atlantis – the ability to use magic was taken from them." She changed her tone a bit and added, "Some of the survivors when Atlantis fell settled in Egypt, and founded the earliest dynasties there. Some of the worst officials tried to escape their impending punishment by going forward in time – they ended up as the precursors to the Mayan peoples, sacrificing thousands in their failed efforts to practice Blood Magic."

Harry sat back, thoughtfully listening. Assured of her audience, Luna went on, "But the truth of magic goes back further than that. But that's why they think that the Wizarding world refuses to approach God or His messengers."

"Okay, then – what is the real story?" Harry fully relaxed in his yellow sofa while Luna spun a tale, recounting it in the bed-time-story fashion that she learned it.

Luna's Story

The universe is vast beyond knowing, and has worlds unnumbered. The creations of God have lived and died throughout the eons and ages, and on some of those worlds, evil has triumphed. In the course of uncounted years, that evil has left the land of its deviant birth and spread from land to land, world to world, from star to star, until even the Great Creator has sought helpers to staunch the spread of the Dark.

But when you are The One True God, you have only subjects, not allies.

Thus was the Master of the Universe brought to this dangerous gamble, to create a world of His Children, that some may prove themselves worthy to be heirs, and partners against the Evil. The brightness and possibilities that hinge on this chance calls out across the unfathomable void, calling to those Powers that have a stake in the future that could be forged here – the hopeful focus of all that is holy and the malevolent focus of all that is cursed.

To protect this crèche of little deities, Angels were tasked to walk the earth and protect its inhabitants from the Outside Dark. These Nephilim, as they were known, mixed with their charges, and their offspring became a part of the Children of God that they were tasked with protecting.

The Eldritch Evil came to watch this little, fragile, spark of life amongst the frozen void, and sent their own servants to bend the future to their own twisted desire, and their servants also mixed with their prey. All these children that had additional heritage were known together as Fae; both the Fallen and the Ascended came together as outcasts in a world Created for the nurture of only part of their heritage. Some of the Fallen continued to serve their Creator, while some were bitter and spurned the commands that were implanted in their beings. Some few of the Ascended continued to serve the Shadow that had birthed them, while some tasted of the Light and knew that it was Good.

The blood and birth that began with the Children of God had spread, encompassing new powers and new abilities in the hands of the Fae. Now the definition of the Children of God expanded, adopting in their cousins of the Fae, adding their new abilities to the heritage of God.

Pure Mankind were of the household of God, and had no heritage to pull them elsewhere, though they could serve others should they choose. Those who had some descent from the Eldritch Evil manifested powers over Reality, able to control various aspects of the physical world. And those who had heritage from the Servants of God, outcast upon the earth, found that their affinities to Perceive and comprehend greatly aided their Fathers' Calling to serve and protect their fellow Children.

The blood and heritage of these three, the Children, the Created, and the Corrupted, mixed and blended until scarcely any man upon the earth escaped both the blessing and burden of the triple birthright. Among those abilities that were unearthed among those with the Tri-Fold Heritage … was Magic.

Harry sat forward, fully engrossed in the history. "So magic comes from the Nephilim? Or the Corrupted?"

Luna shook her head. "No, it's a legacy of the Children. It is the lack of magic that tends to indicate a majority Fae ancestry. We have the heritage of godliness, Harry. And so many – just about everybody – in the Wizarding world abuses it. Being called to account before the Bar of God usually ends up … badly … for magical people."

Harry's mind raced forward, making connections as fast as the questions occurred to him. "And the house elves? Are they the Corrupted?"

Luna smiled, showing a dimple on one cheek. "Partially, although that's rude to say. I'd just refer to 'the triple birthright.' After all, none of us can help what our parents did. Actually," she added, "a lot of the magical creatures we know have a significant amount of heritage from the Outside Dark or from the Nephilim. But just about all of the non-human sapient beings are primarily Children, with a bit of Created or Corrupted inheritance."

Harry considered what he had been told. Acromantula? Really? Finally he asked, "And what of you, Luna? You see more than most, and you seem to know things that nobody else will teach me."

She was quiet, her head hung low.

"My family has a bit more fae heritage than most," she admitted. She seemed ashamed.

Harry moved to touch her hand. "Nephilim, right? You protect and guide the Children, and since you have magic, you're obviously also a child of God, and so can receive all His gifts. And if you have more Nephilim heritage, and you're still magical, then you must also have a pretty strong inheritance from the Children, right?" His mouth showed a soft smile.

Luna's face showed a small blush. Harry thought that she might not be used to people accepting her as she had done to him. That hug of hers was really brave.

"And Muggles? Where do they fit in?"

Luna smiled a bit. "We think of them as 'basic humanity', that we are them, with something extra. But really, it's the Muggles that have extra gifts that we really don't. Their science comes from their Nephilim heritage, and their engineering comes from their ancestry from the Corrupted." She shook her head. "Being able to stuff the scent of summer into a laundry soap really requires demonic powers. It's just not natural, and what do they do about all those summer days that have no aroma any longer?"

She cleared her expression and returned to the main subject. Luna said, "All of His children can receive all His gifts – but those with magic have an additional level of accountability, since we have an additional level of responsibility that goes with our magic." She paused. "Harry, maybe you should find more about what God has done in the Wizarding world." At his inquiring look, she went on, "I mean, you've made an oath. It's a little late, but knowing more about how to make sure you don't violate it, and what the penalties are, would be a good idea."

Harry's smile was wider, now. "Thanks, Luna." Even though it's fairly obvious just what my oath entailed. He (somewhat regretfully) levered himself off the extremely comfortable lounger he had appropriated. "Shall I walk you to your House?"

"Why, thank you!" Luna stood and placed her hand in the crook of Harry's arm. Their conversation on the way to the Ravenclaw dorms was light, mostly on the latest gossip of the castle. Harry's overheard news was about on par with Luna's, but as they overheard quite different groups, each had 'news' that the other did not.

At the Ravenclaw entrance, Luna patted Harry on the arm and said, "Wait here, please." Harry had about 90 seconds to wait before she popped out of the door. "All my things are back on my bed!" She hugged him again, and this time, Harry was not so stiff. He relaxed into her embrace, and felt her acceptance and gratitude. He took the time as an opportunity to whisper, "Thank you. Helping you made me feel good about myself for the first time in a month. You are an amazing young lady, Luna. I really appreciate being able to be your friend."

Luna looked up at Harry with the biggest smile Harry had ever seen. Her eyes were showing a watery sheen, and she burrowed into Harry's chest giving a sigh of great contentment. Eventually (which was both too short and simultaneously too long), Luna released him.

"You'll never be rid of me now, Harry." She was trying to maintain a straight face, but the tears had dried up and her smile was irrepressible.

"Good." He wanted to say something about how he really needed a friend that wouldn't flake out under pressure, but his previous eloquence had left him, leaving Harry high and dry at the moment. Luna seemed to get the message anyway, and she skipped back to the Ravenclaw entrance.

Harry still had a bit before curfew, and the Gryffindor areas were not hospitable places anymore, so he decided to search the library for those records Luna encouraged him to find. It was not a fruitful search, and it lasted for a very frustrating half-an-hour before curfew sent him back to his dorm.