Card the moon

Chapter 11 Catcher of cards

"Pierce! Cut! Blast! Again!"

"Ugh!"

He needed to stop thinking he'd seen the worst she could do; it just encouraged her to prove him wrong.

"Pierce! Cut! Blast! Again!"

Spell practice, he thought, would be like class. A little reading, a little practice, swish and flick and off to bed. Oh, how naïve he'd been.

"Pierce! Cut! Blast! Again!"

Within fifteen minutes he had a working knowledge of three spells and could, sporadically, cast them. He was very impressed. He'd never learned any magic so quickly and was quite proud of himself.

That lasted right up until she laid out how he was to spend the next forty-five minutes.

"Pierce! Cut! Blast! Again!"

He understood the concept of drilling; Wood was very fond of it, but he'd never thought to apply the idea to magic.

"Pierce! Cut! Blast! Again!"

Much as he hated to admit it (and he never would out loud) he was improving. He could now consistently cast all three spells, one after the other. Although, his piercer lacked piercing power, and his cutter was just barely better than a paper cut. The only spell he was confident in was his blaster, the Reducto curse packed quite the punch, but only against solid objects.

"Pierce! Cut! Blast! What the heck was that?"

His limit; finally reached. Arms aching and legs shaking he folded to his knees, panting like the proverbial dog; no biscuit for you.

"Can't—any—more."

"Hmm, no, I spose not," she said. "Not bad for your first session. Not good, but not bad."

Harry glared at the insufferable feline over the top of his glasses, "I hate you."

"Then my work is done," she said, throwing up her tail and swaggering out of reach.

"Come back here—oof! you."

It wasn't enough she drilled him into the ground, she had to rub it in too. Ain't that just like a cat.

"As much as it amuses me to see you lying on the floor like that, get up. Come drink."

With herculean willpower, and when that wasn't enough getting an extra hand from Spartacus, Harry dragged himself to the table where Luna sat waiting by a metal pitcher and a small tin cup.

He didn't know where she got them, nor how she got them there, and he also found he really didn't care. The water was cold and clear and the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted.

"Easy. Drink too fast and it'll all come back up."

He tried to restrain himself, but it was hard not to just gulp down the magnificent, chilly liquid. He hadn't been so wrung out since; well, since the first time she made him run around the lake.

"We need to work on your mental focus. That seems to be where you're lacking right now."

"Uh huh."

"Meditation might be the best option."

"Great."

"… also, I think the moon is made of cheese."

"Sounds good."

"Harry!"

Something in the word she shouted rang of familiarity. It took him a moment between gulps to realize it was his name. She was saying his name… oh.

"Yes?" he inquired sheepishly.

"Maybe we should continue this discussion later," the cat sighed.

"Okay." He wasn't about to argue, and not just because he thought he'd lose.

Shooing him on his way, Harry staggered jelly legged into the hall. It was past curfew now; he'd not planned for that. He was really going to need to carry the invisibility cloak around from now on, just as a matter of course.

Come to think of it, he should have been doing that already. There was a crazed mass murderer out to get him, wasn't there.

It really is a wonder you're still alive after all this time.

Oh, shut up.

No, I mean it. You're practically begging for it, I tell you.

I am not!

I thought we were trying not to tempt fate.

This isn't tempting fate—just Filch.

Which is so much better.

Who asked you?

Well, since I'm you… also it's probably not a good sign you arguing with yourself like this.

Aw, shut up!

Poop head!

As Harry devolved to calling himself names, something moved in the dark. He didn't notice at first, half-delirious with exhaustion and distracted by his argumentative side, it took a sudden flicker at the corner of his eye to freeze him in his tracks.

To most people something so insignificant would have been barely noticed, there and gone without a thought. It was exactly that sort of there and gone, for someone like Harry, that got their attention. There and gone was how a seeker functioned.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

No reply. He should have known. Even if someone was there, it was after curfew; they weren't about to acknowledge it.

The sudden jolt of adrenaline wore off fast. Chalking it up to imagination, he resumed shuffling down the hall.

He didn't see it, but the chill that traced his spine was all the warning he needed.

Turning mid jump, he scanned the hall, wand in hand. His shadow stretched out before him just out of reach from another shadow; a shadow that had no source.

It would have been easy to miss; torches cast strange shadows all along the hall. He may have given it up again as his imagination if the shadow had not chosen to rise up off the floor like liquid ink and assumed solid form.

A new rush of fear coursed through him when he saw its chosen shape. The front brain knew it couldn't possibly be what he thought it was. The lizard brain however, took one look and said, Eh. Close enough.

The panic button was slammed with unnecessary force sending Harry into a flurry of motion, mostly in the leg department.

The black cloak, uninhibited by things like physics, flew down the hall after him, snuffing torches and sconces as it went. Darkness grew like a murky, undulating mass, and Harry learned the only thing faster than a beam of light is a shadow as it falls.

The sudden engulfment sent him stumbling and he fell badly, losing his wand in the encroaching murk!

"Dammit!" Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Words could not express what a fool he felt. He knew it wasn't a dementor, he knew it, but still he'd run. Shame overruled fear as he groped around in the impenetrable dark, hoping beyond hope his wand was there.

"Where is it? Come on."

Unacceptable. One fumble in the dark and he was disarmed and helpless. This must be how babies felt, all clumsy and useless. No wonder they cried so much.

"Gotta find it. Gotta—aaaaaah! find it."

The lethargy stole over him unexpectedly, like someone had pulled the plug and was waiting for the battery to drain. A part of him knew this could not be good. The rest just wanted to sleep.

"No! No. Stay awake. Have to—stay—awake…"

The battle was tilted to the opposition, heavily. He'd already been exhausted, and adrenaline can only last so long. Winning was simply out of the question.

"Stay—awake," he chanted. "Stay—away—ay—huh?"

Without explanation the darkness began failing, falling back as though drawn, and with it the inexplicable lethargy. This of course left the lethargy he could explain which was quite adamantly demanding his attention.

Through sheer force of will he ignored it and turned just in time to see the last of the darkness sucked into a single point which then clarified into an all too familiar object.

He was surprised to see a familiar looking girl holding that familiar object, and a long rod with an odd swan like head.

"Luna?"

The girl in question blinked big startled eyes, "Hullo," which he remembered was how her eyes normally seemed to look. "Are you alright?"

"I've been better," been worse too but why be an optimist. "What's that card there?"

"What card?"

"The one in your hand."

"That's a rod."

"The other hand."

"What other hand?"

"Your other hand."

"I'm afraid I don't have any extras."

Okay, that is quite enough of that.

She stood her ground when he stalked up to her; it was a credit to her will that she could match his angry glare with her big-eyed stare. Or maybe she just couldn't blink.

"Give me your hand."

"I'm using it."

Alright! Enough of this. A man could only take so much absurdity and who did she think she was fooling, hiding it behind her back.

"I saw what you did."

"No you didn't."

OOOOOO! No! no, stop, breath.

"You can contradict me all you like; it won't change what I saw."

"It might."

She sounded less sure of that, but before he could pounce on her hesitance, she changed tactics.

"You didn't see anything," she said, mystically waving her hands in front of his face.

For Pete's sake, "Yes I diiiiiiid," he countered, grabbing her flailing fingers.

"Oh poo."

Thinking he had her, he went to press his advantage when something, about the size of a snitch he thought, came out of nowhere and wacked him in the head. He stumbled, stepped back, and found his wand all at the same time. "Whoop!"

"Are you alright?"

"I've been better."

"Yes, you said that already."

He had said that already. "This conversation is going in circles. Just tell me about the cards."

"What cards?"

Oh no, we're not starting that again, "The ones that look like this," he said, pulling the two from his pocket.

"Oh."

"Where did you get those? What do you know? Who sent you?"

Had he been able to answer the questions, he wasn't sure he would have. As it was, the tiny creature screaming in his face made it difficult to consider its questions without asking one of his own. "Why is the plushy talking?"

"Who are you calling a plushy!" the plushy screamed.

"Kero, calm down. I think you're scaring him." He wasn't. It was hard to be scared of something so small and, well, cute, even if it was screaming in his face. "May I have those please?"

"Why?"

"They belong to me."

"So you sent them to attack me?"

"Oh no, they escaped."

"They escaped?" She nodded. "All on their own."

"No, one of my roommates was going through my things and let them out by accident. She seemed very sorry about the whole thing."

"Sorry she got caught," the plushy, Kero, grumbled none too quietly.

"Anyway, may I have them?"

It was a fair question. They did apparently belong to her, and she seemed to be looking for them if his recent rescue and their last meeting were any indication. He didn't even know what they were, nor how to use them, if using them was in fact a thing you could do. Why should he keep them?

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"I said no."

"Weren't you listening. Those don't belong to you," the plushy shouted.

"And you've proved they're not safe with you. You let them out once and both of them attacked me. I'm not going through that again. Why should I trust you?"

The wide-eyed blonde seemed to consider the question, "I don't know."

To the consternation of her floating plushy, she turned and walked away, still considering the question and leaving Harry alone in the dim lit hallway with more questions than he'd had ten minutes prior.

"Well, bollocks."