17 December 1995

I followed Luna through the halls of Hogwarts, feeling like a stalker. I was invisible; I brushed past students. I saw them turn, confused, but I was already gone. It was the third day of my sojourn in the past, and I needed to talk to her. To someone. I'd tried to visit Xeno, but the funny house on the hill was cold and dark. I'd stared at it for what felt like hours, feeling a rather afraid. I'd never met Xeno in my own time; when had he died?

I tried to ignore the fact that I'd seen his name in the Memorial Gardens at the Albus Dumbledore Institute for Magical Scholarship.

I ghosted behind her, and watched as she spoke quietly to the round-faced boy I knew was Neville Longbottom. They spoke in quiet whispers, and I had a feeling that they were talking about Dad. Dad, who was universally feared by practically every witch and wizard in Britain. Despite the fact that I knew that in six months or so, Dad and Mum and Uncle Ron would be completely vindicated and everything would be all right, it was deeply unsettling. And not only because it was my fault, though that was a major factor.

But the newspapers were full of stories about Dad that revealed their advanced state of paranoia that had me wondering if the lot of them were on Muggle drugs like crack. The more outrageous claims were almost humorous ("Harry Potter Has Scheme to Decrease Value of Galleon"; "Potter to Employ Muggle Technology Against Wizards?"; "What are 'Firelegs' and Why is Potter Using Them?"), but the level of fear against Dad was unnerving. The worst articles had quotes from Albus or Sirius; even though I knew, theoretically, that they were only trying to use the situation to actually make people wary of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, it made my stomach clench a little.

I was so lost in thought, that Luna was alone for moments before I strode over to her. She was humming, and her eyes were rather vague. Checking to make sure that we were the only two in the corridor, I bent down and whispered, "I'm in love with a Heliopath." She nearly jumped right out of her skin, and pressed a suddenly shaking hand to her temple.

"Merlin," she breathed.

"That's me," I said. "I need to talk to you."

"Suddenly everything makes so much more sense..." she said dazedly. "You stole the cloak! And wrote the article!"

I laughed, and managed not to sound too bitter. "That would be me."

Her eyes popped excitedly; her mouth was slightly open. "Now I finally understand -- Dad left me something for you -- of course it was for you -- hold on, meet me at my spot down by the lake!" And before I could stop her, before I could even say anything, and before I could wonder about her use of the past tense when she mentioned Xeno, she ran away. I gaped after her. She had just acted exactly like Aunt Hermione, and I had never known two witches to be more different from each other.

Even the school seemed dismal and the students hurried and did not linger in corridors. Nearly Headless Nick floated morosely ahead of me, and only gave even Gryffindors brief, curt nods. And when Severus rounded the corner like a grumpy, overgrown bat, I did what the rest of the students did and cowered out of his path, despite the fact that he couldn't see me. It was a relief to escape the castle. Who is in charge here? Voldemort? I asked myself incredulously. The overall atmosphere of Hogwarts was so dim and unhappy that it had to be his evil at work.

Dredging up memories, I tried to think back and recall if Dad had ever mentioned that Voldemort took over the school in 1995.

"Sorry that took so long," Aunt Luna ran up, panting for breath. "Had to avoid Umbridge. I think she's set a Tuling after me -- those are little flying mirrors that can help people spy on others, you know -- she always knows where I am." She glanced around, looking slightly fearful. "Are you sure you should be here? The Marauder's Map--"

"Please," I said. "One thing at a time." So the stupid Umbridge bitch was in charge, was she? "If you're worried about the Marauder's Map, I know how to hide from it. Merlin knows I needed to -- James always wanted to prank me." I waved my wand and made the both of us Unplottable. There was a brief twinge of part pleasure, part pain when I remembered that Emmy had always been the one to figure that particular trick out.

She blinked at me; I had the feeling that she was impressed. "Tell me that something horrible happens to Umbridge," she said after a moment. She sounded very vicious and completely unlike any Luna I had ever met.

I was struck with a memory. "You kill her," I said without thinking. My eyes widened when the full memory hit me. "With the spell I taught you!" It was a very odd sort of pride that I felt. And with it I felt something strange and new, and I couldn't quite place it. But I kept my eyes on her face; she did not seem frightened at all at the thought. Just determined. "Aunt Luna... where's your dad?"

Without warning, her eyes filled with tears. "He died," she said in a small voice. "Voldemort came to our house and murdered him."

It was like a punch to the gut. Everything suddenly seemed real: too real. Voldemort. The war that my father had been placed into by fate and prophecy. I'd dealt with non-existence, and I'd dealt with my father's death -- which had seemed entirely natural -- but Xeno Lovegood had been a friend of mine. And he'd been murdered. I found it almost difficult to breathe, and my mind automatically zoomed through different scenarios. I could go back--

Except that I couldn't. I couldn't backtrack. I was in December 1995, and I couldn't, couldn't jump to a previous time without the very real probability that I would undo everything that I did now. I was already locked into this time; Xeno was already dead and there was nothing I could do to change it.

I stood up abruptly and paced. "I'm so sorry," I said. "I had no idea," I looked at her, pleading. "I didn't. I swear." And I wracked my brains, trying to remember if Xeno had ever been mentioned. And he had... but not the manner of his death. It was as though icy water had been poured over me. "I would have changed it."

And then she threw herself at me and wrapped her arms around my stomach. I could feel hot tears already soaking my robes. I patted her on the back, remembering that she had done this for me when I was a child. And she'd worn yellow to Dad's funeral -- and the double funeral -- and it had cheered the three of us up. "Dad always said," I said in a raspy voice, "that death isn't the end." But the words felt empty when I said them; I'd spent years going to desperate measures to try to stop Dad's death.

She didn't call me on being a hypocrite. "Dad said the same thing after Mum died," she said. "He said that when we die, we climb this large staircase and at the top of it is everyone we've ever loved."

I patted her on the back. She pulled away and swiped at her eyes.

"He left this for you," she said. She pulled out a sealed letter. It was addressed to Merlin. "He left me a letter, too, saying that someday I'd probably know who Merlin was," she handed it to me. I took it, wondering what message he could possibly have had for me. Fresh tears leaked out of her blue eyes. "I think he suspected that he was going to die..."

I slit it open and pulled it out.

Dear Merlin,

I think I have discovered the curse that kills your father...