Chapter Title: Bring Me to Life
Rating: PG
Summary: The weight of the prophecy still taking its toll on him, Harry continues to close off to everyone but finds blocking Luna out is harder than it looks.
A/N: Thanks a lot for the feedback! It's much appreciated!!!

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"How can you see into my eyes like open doors
Leading you down to my core
Where I've become so numb without a soul
My spirit sleeping somewhere cold
Until you find it there and lead it back home"
-- "Bring Me to Life" by Evanescence

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Harry sat by the edge of the lake, staring blankly out over its water.

He had survived to see his first weekend of his sixth year at Hogwarts. Had survived the first week back without any incidents, without any threats on his life (much to his surprise). Things seemed almost normal.

Classes had gone as he had expected for NEWT levels. The professors continued on as they normally did each year, Snape returning to scowling in Harry's general direction every chance he could get. Malfoy still took every opportunity to make a snide remark, but to Harry's surprise, he had not yet taken the chance to finish what they had begun on the train. All in all, the castle bustled about like it did year after year.

It was almost as if last year had not occurred.

Almost.

Harry frowned as he recounted giving his friends the cold shoulder again this morning. He had joined them at breakfast, late at that, and had sat quietly with them as he ate his slightly chilled food. Ron and Hermione had watched him cautiously for a moment, their whispered conversation (which he knew had been about him) halted once he had joined them. Ron had offered up a semi-chess tournament to waste away the day, but Harry had only shook his head and muttered a "no thanks" in response.

He had finished his cold breakfast in record time, barely taking time to chew properly, before making his exit from the table as quickly as his arrival. He had wandered the halls for a bit, avoiding the stares of students as he passed them.

He knew what they were thinking; they always thought it. With Voldemort's announced return, he had once again become The Boy Who Lived. To them, he was nothing but a marked man. And with each stare, he could feel them measuring him up. Wondering if Harry, of all people, could really be the key to the end of the reign of the darkest wizard that had ever lived.

Little did they know that he himself lay awake wondering that same question every damn night.

With a sigh, Harry pulled his knees up to his chest, folding his arms and resting them there. He was still lost in thought when a voice spoke to him from over his shoulder.

"Hello, Harry."

He glanced over his shoulder to see Luna standing and watching him. Her hair pulled back into a messy braid, her bangs still wildly falling into her eyes, she wore her Ravenclaw robe open over her jeans and wildly zigzag patterned lavender shirt. In her hands, she carried a bouquet of pink flowers, the blossoms seeming to cover the entire stems of the plants.

"Hello, Luna," he replied, hoping that would suffice and she would continue down the trail.

However, she stayed in her spot, watching him. "What are you doing out here?" she asked curiously.

Harry frowned in response and turned his gaze back out over the water. "Luna, I'd prefer to be alone," he said truthfully.

He thought that would be all it would take for her to leave him, but he found himself surprised when she sat down beside him, pulling her legs under her body. He watched her as she smoothed out a wrinkle in her school robe with her free hand, her other hand still holding carefully to the flowers she had gathered.

"Luna," he sighed.

He didn't want to be rude, especially to Luna who always seemed to be on the receiving end of rudeness, but he didn't exactly want company either.

"You'd prefer to be alone," she repeated with a nod. "But what we prefer isn't always what we need. That's the kind of philosophy that leads to broken bones."

Harry blinked, confused. "Er…"

Luna smiled slightly. "When I was six, I preferred to climb the tree in my yard instead of stay inside." She added casually, "Until I fell one day. Very nasty spill. Broke my arm in three places."

"I'm not climbing a tree, Luna," he frowned. "I'm just sitting here."

Luna nodded, carefully lining the flowers up on the ground in front of her. "Your summer wasn't okay," she stated matter-a-factly as if someone had just asked her the time of day.

"What?" he asked quickly, watching her.

"On the train," she replied, her attention still focused on her flowers. "You said your summer was okay, but that's not true."

He blinked at her, and she turned her prominent silver-blue eyes on him. "Am I wrong?"

Harry hesitated before shaking his head. "No." He studied her for a moment. "How did you know?"

"You're quite the horrible liar." She continued before he could protest, "You had to think about your answer. If your summer had been okay, you wouldn't have had to think on it."

Harry remained silent, not sure what else to say. He had discussed his summer with no one, not even his closest friends. He had not shared with them the nightmares about Sirius that kept him awake most nights. Had not shared the thoughts that haunted his tired days, thoughts of losing more people he cared about. Had not shared with them the prophecy, the one that named him victim or murderer.

He had not said a word. He knew that his friends would want to know, would want him to unload some of his burden on them, but he couldn't. He didn't want them to know because they would try in their own ways to comfort him.

But they couldn't comfort what they couldn't understand.

"Do you believe in prophecies?" Harry heard himself ask.

He wasn't sure if he had meant to say it or not, but it had happened. Either through conscious choice or subconscious need, the question had been asked, and there was no way to take it back.

When Luna didn't answer, he glanced over at her, wondering for a moment if the question had only been in his head after all. But the quizzical manner in which she was now scrutinizing him told him otherwise.

"Do you?" she finally asked.

"I--I'd like to say no."

"I believe prophecies are what we make of them," Luna replied sagely.

"But that's the point of prophecies. That you can't control what happens."

"I suppose if you don't believe in free will, that would be the case." She nodded before continuing. "If you believe in free will, then prophecies are just the directions for the path we're taking. You don't have to follow the directions as they're written."

Harry stared at her, taken aback. For someone who believed in things like Nargles and Crumple-horned Snorkacks, she could speak wisely at times. So wisely that he wondered if her oddities were a façade. A façade for what he couldn't be sure, but this Luna was not the same Luna he had laid his eyes on a year ago on the Hogwarts Express.

The girl with the upside down Quibbler and radish earrings. The girl who wore the giant roaring hat at Gryffindor's game against Slytherin. The girl who lost her belongings at the hands of her fellow classmates and had to post notices at the end of each term simply to get them back.

This Luna was not as odd as he remembered her being. She was quirky, yes, but there was something else. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, but whatever it was, it was there.

"Was that the answer you were hoping for?"

Harry snapped from his thoughts at her voice. He hadn't realized that he had been studying her for so long, but if his unwavering stare had unnerved her, Luna showed no sign of it. She simply stared back, awaiting his answer.

"I don't know," he frowned, finally turning his gaze back over the lake. He hesitated, holding his breath. "There's this prophecy that either Voldemort or I must die."

He had said it-- the shadow that had been lingering in his step all summer. It felt odd saying it aloud, to hear his own voice proclaim his own demise. To hear it and feel as if, now, it was no longer an irrational fear but a truth etched in stone.

"Hmm," was all Luna said in response.

Harry turned to her. That was all she could say? All the response she could muster to his words?

"Hmm?" he repeated.

She nodded. "Well, it would seem that it would have to be the way. You're both very powerful, you know. It makes sense that those powers can't exist at the same time."

Harry frowned. "But the prophecy. If, if it's true--"

"Then you will defeat Voldemort," she finished. She pulled one of her flowers from the line she had formed and twirled its stem gently between her fingers, watching the blossoms dance.

"Or I die," Harry corrected, his frown deepening.

"Well, yes, if those are the directions you choose for your path." She glanced at him with a tilt of her head. "But to choose your own death doesn't seem very wise."

"I'm not choosing--"

He stopped mid-protest as he realized she was right.

He didn't fear the prophecy because he feared being a murderer. He feared the prophecy because he feared his own death and what it would mean for the wizarding world as a whole. He feared it because somewhere in the back of his mind, he had already chosen defeat at the hands of Voldemort as the only likely end to all of this.

Unknowingly, he had chosen his own death.

Harry thought about that for a moment before turning to look at Luna. She had returned to gathering her flowers one by one into a makeshift bouquet.

"What are those for?" he asked, nodding towards the flowers in her hand.

"These?" she asked with a soft smile. "They're Heather blossoms. They bring good luck. I gather them at the beginning of each year to place by my window."

"Not the best good luck, are they?" Harry replied.

Luna glanced at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if they brought you good luck, your things wouldn't disappear each year, would they?"

Luna offered him a wispy smile as she replied, "If they didn't bring me good luck, my things would never return, now would they?"

Harry smiled slightly, the first time he could remember doing so in months. "No, I suppose not." He paused, thinking. "But won't they wilt after a few days?"

"Well, normally yes," she said with a nod. She pulled her wand from behind her ear and hovered the tip over her bouquet. "Conservare."

Harry watched a pale green light envelop the blossoms before fading away.

"What was that?" he asked, amused.

"A preservation spell," she stated, slipping her wand back behind her ear. She pulled a flower from the bunch and tucked it behind her other ear. With a smile, she stood. "I should go place them in water now."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "But doesn't the spell keep them from dying?"

"Yes, but they still enjoy the water. It'd be mean to deprive them of that."

Harry simply smiled and nodded.

"This year will be better than the last, Harry," she said, walking away.

He watched her depart, frowning. "How can you be so sure?" he called after her.

Luna turned back to him with a gentle shrug of her shoulders. "Because I trust it will be."

She started back towards him, and once she had returned to his side, she pulled a flower from her bouquet and held it out to him. Harry considered it for a moment before gently taking it from her hand.

"What's this for?" he asked, giving her a confused look.

"It wouldn't be lucky to keep all the luck for myself, would it?"

"No, I guess it wouldn't." Harry studied the flower before finally turning his eyes back up to Luna. "Thanks, Luna."

"You're welcome," she smiled. "Have a good afternoon, Harry."

"I will," he said, and for the first time, he believed it.

Luna nodded and started away, humming quietly under her breath. Harry watched her go back up the trail until he could no longer see her as she turned the bend that led back towards the castle. He glanced at the flower, watching the blossoms as he twirled the stem between his fingers.

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Harry walked into the Gryffindor common room, in better spirits than he had been in a long time, the flower Luna had given him safely tucked inside his robes. Hermione and Ron sat in their usual spot near the fireplace, a chessboard set up between them. They both looked up as he entered.

"Harry," Hermione greeted with a careful smile.

"Harry, mate, you--you want to have a go?" Ron asked as he cautiously pointed towards the chessboard.

Harry stood there for a moment, watching his two best friends, before smiling and giving a slight nod. "Yeah, I would."

Both his friends smiled back, and it warmed him to see them truly smiling at him. No fear. No caution. Simply friendship and warmth.

"I'll be right back."

Harry rushed up the staircase towards his room. Once inside, he made his way to his bed, carefully removing the flower from within his robes. With a slight smile, he placed it on the windowsill near his bed. Quickly slipping out of his robes, he tossed it onto his bed and made his way back downstairs to be with his friends.