A/N: Hello, everyone! I hope you've all had a good week:) AP exams are finally over, I have one more day of high school, and graduation is in less than two weeks... needless to say, life should be calming down a bit and I should have a good three months to do some mostly uninterrupted writing! Hope you enjoy this chapter:)


It was very difficult to be so misunderstood, but she managed. She was very similar to her father in that way- both were a little eccentric, perhaps, but everybody just believed them to be insane. Well, if your subconscious were constantly flooded with visions and premonitions, you'd be a bit strange, too.

Yes, Luna Lovegood was a half-Seer. She had inherited some of her father's gift, but she never made prophecies like he could; for this, Luna was grateful- prophesizing attracted Umgubular Slashkitters, and they were terribly difficult to get rid of.

As long as she could remember, Luna had been able to sense the feelings of others. There were times when she had feelings that something good or bad was going to happen, but could never be sure what it was. There was the occasional vision, although she had a hard time knowing if it was something that would happen or had already occurred.

She had been spending a lot of time with Hermione and Neville this year and, even at the beginning of the school year, Luna had been able to tell that Hermione's head was full of wrackspurts. As the year progressed, they seemed to multiply, and Luna couldn't help but wonder how there was still room for Hermione's brain in her skull.

Then, towards the end of first term, Luna had a very bad feeling, and it only seemed to escalate when she was near Hermione. Luna had tried to warn her about the Heliopaths and how they were possibly coming after the older witch, but Hermione hadn't seemed to heed the warning. Things had only worsened from there. She'd seen flashes of red hair and blood, but she hadn't known what to make of it until a dream she'd had that featured bushy curls, cries of agony, and a dark alcove in a nearby corridor. Luna had been able to piece everything together, but had been afraid to bring it up. It was one of the few occasions she could tell that it had already happened, and she wasn't quite sure what to say to Hermione. All Luna knew for sure was that Hermione had been hurting for a long time, and had nearly fallen apart.

Since her friend had been more like herself, Luna had been very grateful for Professor Snape. If he hadn't been there for Hermione, Merlin knew what the Dabberblimps would have done to her- they preyed on pain and feelings of despair.

It hadn't taken Luna very long to see the bond between her friend and the Potions Master. Luna was particularly sensitive to the way magics called to one another, and she could almost physically see their magics reaching towards one another, especially when they were near each other- taking meals in the Great Hall, for instance. When Luna was in Potions, she could sense that Professor Snape's magic was searching for Hermione's, but was unable to find it.

But everything had changed that morning. Luna had woken up with a very bad feeling, but wasn't clear on what it was about. She was feeling absolutely terrible by the time breakfast started, and had barely been able to eat a thing.

Then Hermione had rushed from the room, and it hadn't taken Luna long to follow, but for a very different reason. The sense of foreboding was making her nauseous, and she needed to get to the loo- quickly.

This was unusual. The last time her gift had made her sick was the day of the Final Battle last year, and there wasn't anything like that going on now. She could only guess it had something to do with Hermione, though- her gift was more attuned to those she was close to. Hoping she was wrong, she went to her classes and acted as normal as she could- for Luna, at least. Nobody questioned her behavior, already believing she was crazy. It wasn't until Potions that she really became worried.

She watched him as he lectured, and was dismayed to see his aura. The bright red tendrils of his energy were reaching in all directions, moving in clear distress. Normally, the little red light stayed put or floated around his pelvis, reflecting indifference and mild frustration. He didn't seem to be aware of his inner turmoil, though, so Luna resolved to give him a push in the right direction. Hermione needed her help, after all.

His surprise had been evident, but she could tell he believed her, even if he didn't know it yet. Once she heard that the rest of his classes had been cancelled, though, she knew she'd gotten through to him. Luna only hoped he would get to Hermione in time.

Now, though, a very angry Luna Lovegood was making her way towards the Quidditch pitch, waiting for the Gryffindor practice to come to an end. She didn't have to wait for very long.

As soon as the team began walking back towards the castle, Luna stormed- not that anyone else was paying enough attention to notice how upset she was- over to the Seeker.

"Harry! I need to talk to you!"

Hearing her call him from behind, Harry stopped and turned to face her.

"What is it, Luna?"

"I need to tell you about the wrackspurts!"

Harry groaned. "Not this again! I'm tired, Luna. I just want to go upstairs. Can this wait until later?"

"No, it's far too important. It can't wait, and anyway, it isn't your wrackspurts I'm worried about right now- although, you may want to have that looked at; you've got more than you should."

"Um, yeah, I'll get on that. I've got to go… see you later," Harry muttered as he tried to sidestep her.

Luna wasn't having that, though. It wasn't often she was angered to the point where she seemed normal to others, but he just wasn't seeing sense!

"Harry, turn around and listen to me," she said, her tone leaving very little room for argument. She could tell he was surprised by how suddenly he stopped before doing as she told him, and was satisfied when his mouth hung open in his shock before he recovered.

"Fine, what do you need to tell me?"

"You've been a terrible friend- did you know that? It's been terribly obvious that something's wrong for months now, but I don't think you ever noticed. I guess I can't blame you- Quidditch is obviously much more important than those you supposedly care about. I'm not even surprised you didn't notice all the wrackspurts, or the Heliopaths, or even the Dabberblimps; you never have, anyway.

"That's not an excuse, though. I always thought you were better than this, Harry, but I was wrong! Why are you so self-absorbed?"

"I'm not! Not really, anyway, but that's beside the point. What's the matter, Luna? Have I missed something?"

Luna took a deep, calming breath. She was fighting the urge to hex him at the moment, and she'd only been talking to him for a few minutes- how had Hermione put up with him for so many years?

"No, not missed it, just ignored it, which is much worse, if you really think about it. You knew something was going on and you turned on her and now she's in trouble and you don't even seem to care!"

Confusion was clear on Harry's face, but then realization dawned on him.

"Hermione? I haven't said a word to her since she was in hospital. What's wrong with her?"

"I've never known you to be so daft! What do you think is wrong with her? I know you know what happened! Don't you care?"

"Of course I care, but I chose not to take sides in whatever fight they're having now."

Luna laughed humorlessly. "You've been as bad as him, you know that? You've both turned on her, haven't you? It's worse for you, really, because you did it when she needed you."

"What do mean, 'as bad as him'? As bad as who?"

"As bad as Ron, Harry. I was hoping I could get through to you, but now I don't know if I can- or even if I should. You clearly aren't the friend she thought you were. She's always said you were like a brother to her, you know."

She could see she was starting to weaken his resolve, so she kept going.

"I didn't want to have to say it this way, Harry, but you aren't leaving me another choice. You know just as well as I do what he did to her that night. She tried to tell you- I can see how guilty you feel- and you walked away without looking back. Unless I'm mistaken, you saw how much worse she got after she came back to class and still blew her off. There's no way you missed her this morning- I don't think anyone did. You abandoned her, Harry."

He had blanched at some point during her tirade. "Wait… do you know what happened today?"

Luna was relieved that he finally seemed to see some sense, even if it wasn't quite as much as she'd been hoping for.

"No, but I know it isn't good. She hasn't been good for a long time, Harry- hence the wrackspurts."

"What have I done?" he whispered. His voice was hoarse and broken, his expression tortured. "I should have been there for her. She needed me, and I let her down. What have I done?"

Knowing she'd finally gotten him to understand, Luna helped him onto the ground where they sat, Harry drowning in shame and Luna hoping Professor Snape could save the brightest witch of their age, and one of their closest friends.


"Mum? Dad? Where are you?"

"I'm right here, love, and I'm not going anywhere. It's alright, sweetheart."

Hermione all but threw herself into her mother's open arms, clinging to the older woman as if she would disappear at any moment.

"I'm so glad you finally remember. I'm so, so sorry that I took your memories. I just wanted to keep you safe. If something had happened… I don't think I could have lived with myself," Hermione choked out as tears began to fall.

As she held onto her mother, Hermione felt a small hand take her own. Looking down and blinking her tears out of the way, she saw Seth. He gently squeezed the hand he held and gave her a shy smile that Hermione returned.

"I understand why you did it. I don't like it, but I know you had good intentions. It's okay, I'm not mad."

It was then that Hermione realized that something was wrong. She was wrapped in her mother's loving embrace, and her mother knew who she was. Seth was here… and her father wasn't.

"Mum, where's Dad?"

Her mother looked at her sadly. "He isn't here, darling. It's just us, for now."

"Where is here?"

"After. I know you wanted to protect us, Hermione, but you have to know that this wasn't your fault. I know you'll blame yourself anyway, but this didn't happen because of you. I love you. Your father loves you, even if he doesn't know it. We've always been so proud of you, and have been honored to call you our daughter."

"What are you saying? Are we all… gone?"

"Oh, Hermione. Seth and I have passed, yes, but you still have a choice. You can stay here with us, or you can go back. I won't be upset if you stay, and I would love to be with you forever, but you have the rest of your life ahead of you. It may not seem like it right now, but you will get through this. It's your decision, love."

How could she choose? Hermione had a bad feeling that her father would be here eventually, and that would be definite if she stayed. She had to try and save him, even if he would never know who she was.

"I have to go back. I can't stay. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. We'll still be here when it's your time. We aren't going anywhere."

"I love you so much. I'll always love you."

"I love you, too. We'll always watch over you, sweetheart; know that we are always with you." Her mother tightened her embrace before pulling away. "Now go. We'll see each other again someday."

Hermione nodded. "Goodbye, Mum. Goodbye, Seth."

She turned to leave, part of her desperately wanting to run back to her mother, but she kept going, until her mother's voice stopped her.

"And Hermione? He's coming for you. He's on his way. I think he's good for you- it's obvious he cares for you."

"What? Who are you talking about?"

"Your… your soul mate. I haven't been here long, and I don't understand much of your world, but I can see that the bond is strong. You're very lucky, Hermione."

And with that, her mother took Seth's hand and they were gone, leaving Hermione to wonder just who her mother was talking about as she turned and left, too.


"Renervate," he called, pointing his wand at her lifeless form. She awoke with a gasp, struggling to sit up. When she was finally able to, her gaze darted around the room until her eyes landed on her mother's body. He'd gotten bored while waiting for her to wake up, and had killed her mother in the meantime. Ron had been hoping that her father's cries of despair would wake her, but it was no use- she'd really knocked herself out.

Eventually, the man's shouts had become an annoyance, so Ron had silenced him. He'd waited a bit longer, then decided to wake her up.

Watching her find her mother's body had certainly had the desired effect. Tears were pouring down her face as she murmured incoherent ramblings of mourning and grief. Part of Ron was reveling in her pain, but another part wanted to help her. He had never felt so conflicted- he couldn't decide what he was supposed to do.

Kill her father.

What? Why? I don't want to do that!

Kill her father.

I can't do that to Hermione!

She's just a Mudblood. Kill her father.

I won't do it!

You will. Kill him. Now!

NO!

But it was no use- his hand seemed to be moving on its own, even as he willed it back to his side. That menacing voice in his head was stronger than the other, and it was this voice that his body seemed to be obeying, just as it had been since September.

After that night in August when he'd tried to go too far, he'd accepted Hermione's wishes. He had agreed that they would wait until she was ready- he could do that for her.

Not long after school started, though, he'd been doing a patrol when he felt an odd sensation in his brain. By the time he'd recognized it for what it was, it had been too late. Try as he might, he was completely unable to fight it off. He could only sit back and watch, horrified, as he was taken over and forced to do horrendous things.

He had watched himself- felt himself- cheat on Hermione. Multiple times, with multiple girls. Then, when she found out, he'd… he'd hit her. She'd ended it, and he hadn't been able to stop himself from going at her.

That night in December had broken something in him. He was angry, but not at her. Never at her. He was angry about the intruder in his brain, but more importantly, he was angry with himself. If he had caught on to what was happening on that patrol in September, could he have kept all of this from happening? Could he still be with Hermione?

Even if that anger wasn't directed towards her, that overpowering voice inflicted it on her. She felt every ounce of his frustration multiplied by ten, and he'd seen the damage he'd done.

He hadn't been able to stop the rumors from leaving his mouth. He knew they were far, far from the truth, but he said them anyway. Ron had lost nearly all control over his body and mind. All he had left was his soul, and he sometimes wondered if he even had that anymore. Sure, it wasn't really him doing all of this, but at the same time, it was. His hands had bruised her; his words had hurt her; his wand had cursed her. If he ever came out of this, how could she ever forgive him? Would she even give him a chance to explain that he'd been doing his best to stop it?

No, and he wouldn't even allow himself to do so. It wasn't true.

In the beginning, he'd almost welcomed the invasion. He didn't have to think about anything. It felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. The new voice in his head used up all of his pent-up anger, encouraging it to flourish and cause even more damage. There had been a brief time when he hadn't wanted to fight. He wanted to follow this new side of him and see where it led him. By the time he'd understood his mistake, it had been too late. It felt as if the new part of him had always been there. He no longer knew how he could possibly function without it. As much as he hated it, he didn't want it to go away.

He was weak. He knew that. If he had been stronger, he might have had a chance to regain complete control over himself. Unfortunately for Ronald Weasley, though, he hadn't been, and the intrusion had gone too deep. He could tell that it had been unintentional, but there was nothing that could be done for it, now. The link between his mind and the other was permanent. He could never be fixed. The real Ron had been lost forever.

Forced from his thoughts, Ron watched his hand steady as he aimed at the older man's throat. He felt the curse fall from his lips.

"Sectumsempra."

Ron couldn't watch the blood pour from the dying man. He couldn't listen to Hermione's cries. It was killing him. His power surged in him as he fought desperately for just a moment of control. The intruder was fighting him, but he was somehow able to overpower the other force. He could tell it wouldn't last for long.

"Hermione!"

Her head snapped up at the sound of her name, and even through her tears, he could see the emotions flickering in her eyes- sorrow, grief, fury- and knew that she probably wouldn't forgive him. He knew he had to try, though.

"You have to listen to me- I don't know how much time I have. It wasn't me; not really. I don't know who it is, but I've been under the Imperious or something. I would never do this- any of this- to you, I swear! Please, believe me!"

She didn't say anything. Instead, she rose and closed her eyes. Unsure of what she was doing, Ron only watched her. He knew he was running out of time, but he didn't know what else there was to say.

When her eyes finally opened again, they were alight with anger. There was a bright blue glow at her throat, and he could feel the power it emanated from across the room. Her hair was crackling with the energy of her magic, the sparks resembling those that were currently falling from the lights on the ceiling as the Muggle bulbs all flickered out at once.

They were left in darkness, other than the light coming from the witch standing in front of him. Even though she wasn't looking at it, the light seemed to reflect in her eyes, allowing him to see them across the room. He nearly gasped when her irises slowly turned the same color as the light, seeming to burn with her raw power and emotion. Ron had always known she was powerful, but he'd never seen anything like this before.

Then he felt a strange sensation. It took him a moment to realize what it was, but when he did, it shocked him. His magic seemed to be retreating so far into him that he couldn't tap into it. Obviously, his magic could sense the Hermione's rage and wanted nothing to do with it. Ron was starting to get the same idea.

"Hermione, calm down!"

Her magic only flared more with this, and he knew there wasn't any hope for him. Ron resigned himself to the fact that his life could be coming to end in a few moments, and he murmured the only thing he could think of as his control slipped and the room erupted into a blinding blue light that seemed to center on him, sending him crashing to the ground. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Hermione collapsing to the ground across from him, hitting her head on the floor with a resounding "thud."


A/N II: Okay, this should be the last cliffhanger for awhile (chapter 12 isn't quite done yet, but it's getting there). As a reward for your tolerance of my leaving you hanging three weeks in a row, I present to you a small excerpt from the next chapter:

Looking around the rest of the room for clues as to what had happened, he felt rage course through him when he noticed the other body on the ground. There was no mistaking who that red hair belonged to.

I don't know if that makes it better or worse, but hopefully it helps. See y'all next week!