Harriet spent increasingly more time with the youngest Weasley child. Ginny's unwillingness to let whatever happened to Harriet make things awkward melted any ice that existed between them and made them fast friends. After weeks of low boiling tension with Ron and Hermione, Ginny was a refreshment. Ginny did not subtly patronize her, Ginny did not secretly spy on her, Ginny did not walk on eggshells, afraid to upset her, like her other close friends clearly did.

Harriet noticed there were now topics that seemed 'off-limits' with Ron and Hermione. The bizarre, the violent, the foolhardy, as if any discussion in these directions would give Harriet ideas—like some very impressionable toddler. Not so with Ginny—in fact, Ginny was the daring one. Right when Harriet thought the conversation had veered into sensitive territory, Ginny would pull them both over the line, laughing all the way. In record time they built an easy rapport, discussing everything from deadly diseases to astrology.

"My horoscope," she once said, in reference to astrology, "says I have an intense animal magnetism." And she grinned at Harriet, with enough self-satisfied pomposity to have made Percy stammer.

Apart from being an easy conversationalist, Ginny moved like a dynamo. She was prone to running up to Harriet from the end of the hall, grabbing at her arms or gripping her round the shoulder and racing off with her, with "Come on!" as the only word of explanation.

Harriet had found herself growing rather jaded to Hogwarts after so many years, but Ginny had a way of reinvigorating things. She had several haunts around the castle and the grounds—places Harriet had been before, but had never really appreciated. One was on the farther side of the lake, where cliffs mounted over the water like nature's diving board, another was the bleachers of the Quidditch Pitch, under which had dropped countless assorted teenage artifacts, from friendship charms to old shoes, though the porn magazines far outnumbered anything else

Then there was the Owlery.

"So why do we come here so often?" Harriet asked, as she walked about the edges of the room, looking up at all the owls. They were clustered high above them, in the middle of the room, on countless thin perches. "Is it so you practice that animal magnetism of yours?"

Ginny, leaning on the opposite wall to Harriet, spotted the corpse of a rat on the floor, likely dropped by one of the owls—and sent it flying towards the other girl with a kick.

"Bugger off," she laughed, as Harriet leapt out of the way, "I'm waiting on a letter, actually."

Well, either way, Harriet had to admit the Owlery had its virtues. The greatest thing about it was the atmosphere. It was high up in the West Tower of the castle, a bit secluded from the rest of the school and generally ignored by the majority of the student body unless they had business to attend to, which was not so often. It had large, paneless windows that let sunlight wash over the room, and gave opening for owls to come and go as needed. They went there in the daytime, and owls were nocturnal animals, so it was always pleasantly quiet, but subtly humming with the life of over a hundred birds, all breathing, ruffling their feathers, or fluttering their wings.

Harriet finally sidled up right next to Ginny and asked "Who's the letter from?"

"A friend of mine. I don't think you've ever met her."

"Hmm."

"She's a Ravenclaw in my year."

"She's not in school." Harriet noted. "Something up?"

"No," Ginny said "She ought to be coming back, in… a fortnight, maybe. She's on safari with her father in South America or somewhere."

"Safari?" Harriet parroted, incredulously "She's skipping school to go on a trip? How did they run that one by the administration?"

Ginny shrugged. "They must have said she was sick or something. "Then she leaned in confidentially. "Really, I don't think it matters what you say anymore, to the administration. All that drama around the Tri-Wizard Tournament has shaken people's confidence in the school. They don't believe that the war is on, exactly, but what happened with Cedric has people's parents wondering if they should be letting their kids go so far away for school. And of course, everyone hates Dumbledore. I've overheard some people talk about almost getting homeschooled. So, from the school's point of view I think it's something like, 'better late than never.'"

"Wow…That's…that's…" Harriet eyes fell to the floor.

Ginny placed a firm hand on Harriet's shoulder.

"That, is not your fault."

Harriet sighed.

Ginny tightened her grip on the Harriet's shoulder, and turned her round so that their eyes met.

"You're really quite predictable." Ginny said a bit harshly. "The slightest thing goes wrong and you get down in the dumps as if you remotely caused it." Ginny's eyes bored into Harriet's, full of righteous indignation "You take too much shit from too many people—Like Ron and Hermione. I just know they're driving you insane, with that whole helicopter parent bit. That's exactly how Mum and Dad were with me after first year."

Ginny seemed to have made her point, but her arm lingered on Harriet's shoulder, and vaguely Harriet wished that Ginny might place it somewhere else. Somewhere just a bit lower…

Just then the first bell rang, echoing through the castle, only just reaching them in The Owlery. Ginny's hand dropped to her side, and Harriet stepped away, feeling rather like she had run up a short flight of stairs

"Class is on." She observed dimly.

"Yeah," Ginny said "And still no letter. I guess I'll come back later, or tomorrow, maybe."

*********************

Harriet's new friendship with Ginny eventually drew comment from Ron and Hermione, just as she knew it would.

The three of them were in the common room, doing a bit of homework—when Harriet saw a flash or red out of the corner of her eye, and looked up. Ginny was descending the stairs from the girl's dorms, and was already smiling at her. She jerked her head at the portraithole, a clear signal of 'Let's go!' Harriet gathered her things up, and made to leave.

"Harriet." Hermione said, gripping Harriet at the shoulder and stopping her progress halfway out of her seat. Harriet shot a glance over at Ginny, who passed by them, looking curious. Harriet signaled at her to wait, and Ginny sauntered over to the portraithole, stopped just next to it, leaned on the wall, waiting.

"What's up?" Harriet asked.

"That's up." Hermione said, indicating what had passed between Harriet and Ginny in a large gesture. "Ron and I think you're spending too much time with Ginny."

"Seriously?" Harriet scoffed. She almost left it at that, but remembered what Ginny had said about her being too gracious. "Are you so overprotective of me now that you won't let me make any new friends?"

"It's not like that." Ron said, "I mean, last year you hardly talked to my sister, now you two are the best of pals."

"Yeah, I've noticed you're especially sore about that." Harriet said, her eyebrow raised "Don't think I haven't noticed you going and pouncing on her when you think I've gone off. Is there actually valid reason why I shouldn't hang out with her, or what?"

Ron only looked at Harriet, his mouth tightening into a hard line.

"We do, actually." Hermione said, with authority "We're not saying you should totally give her the cold shoulder. That's you putting words in our mouths."

Harriet glanced at Ron, and rather thought his mouth was in too tight of a line for her to put any words in it.

"The thing is," Hermione said, "Fourth year is easy—"

"Usually fourth year is easy." she amended, at Harriet's snort. "Yours was a special case. And despite—"she said it in a small voice, eyes darting"—Voldemort—coming back, it looks like we're settling in for a schoolyear just like any other—Which means fourth year is easy, and fifth year is OWLs. We can't have people getting distracted by their new girlfriends…"

Something about how Hermione said the last word made Harriet slightly embarrassed, the same way any references along that line did. She could still remember guiltily how she had been leering over Hermione while she slept.

But outwardly she brushed it off. "Well I'm not getting distracted, thank God. Unless getting distracted means having just a little bit of fun between all the homework. Frankly, I think you're blowing the whole thing out of proportion. Now, if you'll let me go—"

"Wait!" Hermione gathered up a roll of parchment from off of the table, which she unfurled to reveal a fairly lengthy bit of writing.

"Snape's essay." She said, with an air of having cornered Harriet, "Have you even started it?"

Snape's essay was the largest assignment they'd gotten so far. People joked that it was better measured in metres rather than inches of parchment.

"I finished it." Harriet smiled, slowly backing away from where Ron and Hermione sat, watching as their eyes widened.

"Is—is it long enough? Snape said no less than two-and-a-half feet—and that he could tell if you tried to compensate my making your handwriting big—"

"It's fine!" Harriet insisted, turning around, and looking at them over her shoulder "It'd be like trying to climb the Everest if I made mine as long or as detailed as yours will probably be, but even Snape won't be able to complain, if he's fair.

"How did you get it done so fast?" Hermione asked, now looking rather like she wanted Harriet's advice for superior homework planning.

Harriet smirked.

"Ginny helped."

Before anything else could be said, Harriet was out of earshot, and leaving through the portraithole with Ginny.

****************

One afternoon Harriet went up to the Owlery alone, and saw that her hunch was right. Ginny was already there.

Ginny stood at the balcony, oblivious of Harriet who stood several metres away at the Owlery's entrance.

The balcony was meant as a sort of main launching bay, for owls going off and coming in after delivering letters, but was large enough to accommodate three people. The balcony was the largest opening on any side of the Owlery, and so it was responsible for letting in most of the light. Compared to the dimness of the doorway in which Harriet stood, Ginny was utterly bathed in light. Her skirt gleamed silver, her shirt gleamed white and her hair gleamed bronze, her skin too shone in the blazing light, pale and milky, like a daytime apparition.

From here all her movements were open, Harriet could see how she shifted from foot to foot, how she looked from side to side, how, when she came to lean on the railing it was not with any restful ease but as if she was being held back from something. Harriet was not perturbed. This sort of hyperactivity was very typical of Ginny. She kept watching.

Ginny gripped the railing again in that curious posture. She leaned heavily on it for a moment, staring straight ahead. She pushed her self up on the railing, coming to stand on the very tips of her toes. Harriet thought she looked like a ballet dancer getting ready to stretch. And stretch she did. Ginny drew herself out further and further, upwards and outwards, more and more precariously over the railing—hooking her legs through its gaps, using it almost like a step ladder, leaning further and further out— like she wanted to throw herself over—

Until she snapped back, and turned around—and bumped right into Harriet, who had raced across the room before she even realized it, crushing something warm and fluffy between the two of them.

Harriet thought she would say "Oh my God, are you okay?" or "What the hell were you doing?"—instead, she spluttered, "What-? An owl?"

"Yeah," Ginny said, smoothing the feathers of the rather ruffled looking owl she held in her arms. "Luna finally wrote back."

"Is Luna kind of strange?" Harriet couldn't help but ask.

She and Ginny were sitting out on the balcony, with their backs against the railing and their knees touching. The sunlight streaming over their shoulders had made for perfect reading light as they went through Luna' letter.

"Not strange. Eccentric!" Ginny insisted. Then she turned the letter over in her hands a few times, and saw Harriet looking at her, "Okay, a bit strange…"But before Harriet could make anything of that, she followed up with, "But in the good way. That kind of strange that makes you much smarter than the 'normal' people."

"I'm sure." Harriet said. "Hey, give that letter over again."

After years of reading articles, books and newspapers that some part of her brain still considered ridiculous, she'd assumed that few pieces of Magical literature would ever again register to her as absurd. But, here was Luna Lovegood's letter. Harriet and Ginny had started off expecting some report on South American Magical Culture, South American Magical wildlife, what South Americans did for fun-but soon found themselves lost in lengthy descriptions of Luna's time chasing South American mythical creatures with her father, complete with detailed descriptions, quotes from locals, and promises for photos when she returned to school. Only, the visual descriptions were nearly absurd, the quotes from locals were roughly put down, likely half-remembered, and somehow she and her father had kept making once in a lifetime sightings of supposedly rare creatures, which, apparently, the photos she returned with would prove the existence of.

"Her and her father really believe in that stuff you know," Ginny said, with the fervour of defending someone's religious beliefs, when Harriet had been silent a long time, "She's told me all about this stuff. The way she explains it, in so much detail—you almost start to believe it too."

"Really, so you believe in a 'Headdrill' ? I mean, what even is that?" Harriet asked, referring back to the letter.

"She-she told me that. Luna did. " Ginny thought for a moment "It's this bug, this tiny one, that crawls in your ear and makes your memory all foggy."

"And a Docsant?"

"Well, it's this bug, a tiny one too, that can get under the skin of your scalp and make you really itchy-"

"And a Corponecctor?"

"It's this tiny bug, that attaches to your spinal cord and—"

"And don't tell me you're considering the—Crumple Headed Snorcack."

"Well—" Ginny started, then burst out laughing.

"The 'Crumple Headed Snorcack'." Harriet said, "What does that one do?"

"I don't know.' Ginny shrugged, then smiled fiendishly, "Goes up your bum, I suppose."

"Eurghhh."

Ginny bumped her knee against Harriet's playfully. "Come on, don't act as if you wouldn't like it."

"I wouldn't." Harriet said, "I'm not some pervert, like you.'

Ginny scoffed. Once, and then again, as if she were slightly thrown off.

"Well, the pictures ought to settle it once and for all." she said.

"Yeah," Harriet chuckled "Grainy pictures where you have to squint before you can half see what you're looking at. That'll really settle things.

Ginny tilted her head over, so she could push all her hair over one shoulder. "I never pegged you as a skeptic."

"See, in the Muggle World, magic doesn't exist at all, so hoaxes, and monster scares, and people believing things that are untrue is much more common. I've seen it on the telly and the newspaper all the time. I hate to say it but Luna sounds a lot like those people do."

"Okay, I'll admit, I'm skeptical, but I don't think it's total bullshit... You never know what's out there. The things you might see…"

"Like magic…" Harriet laughed.

"Yeah," Ginny said, "You didn't think magic was real, until you got your Hogwarts letter. I don't think us as wizards have it all figured out yet either, there might be a whole other world out there, just out of our reach."

"The people who say stuff like that as Muggles would have started talking about lizard people by now."

She looked at Harriet askance. "Frankly I'm surprised at you. I thought you'd be all over this sort of thing. Muggleborns, which you were basically raised as, are pretty naturally inquisitive about stuff like this. Like when Luna mentioned she was going on a trip and Colin Creevey said he wanted to come so that he could be the one taking the pictures."

"Well, maybe I've had a bit too much of challenging the unknown." Harriet said wryly.

Ginny started to laugh, then put her hand to her mouth to stifle it.

Harriet gazed at her. Her neck was still exposed from when she'd adjusted her hair, and the skin there gleamed in the sun. The line of Ginny's neck descended to her collarbone, which descended to the upper part of her chest, where her collar hung open, which descended lower, into territory covered by her blouse. It was easy, if she didn't look Ginny in the eye, to imagine that the descent never stopped—that the blouse was not there, nor the skirt…

"Harriet?" Ginny called, and Harriet jumped. Her eyes jumped up nervously to Ginny's.

"Er—what's up?"

"Nothing, I was just saying you'll eat your words, when we get those photos."

Harriet laughed.

***************************************

Harriet was still two floors off from the Owlery when she started to hear it. A near cacophony of animal screeching, with human singing as a strange counterpoint. She couldn't tell who was singing—the screeching of the owls was too loud, and anyway there were two of them, their voices blending together.

Harriet stopped at the final landing, still out of sight, to listen, to make out what they were singing, or who they were, or what they were doing, to get the owls so agitated. She got no clues, not even enough for a wild guess. Was Ginny up there or had she heard this happening and gone off? All she knew was that one singer, the one with the lower voice, seemed to falter, unsure of the lyrics, uncomfortable with the tune. The other singer, higher pitched and clearer in tone, led the song easily—or as easily as one could, with an apparent audience of wailing owls. Harriet listened, inching slowly up the last flight of stairs, as the singing got louder, and the screeching got louder, and a thudding sound she had just noticed built to a crescendo, like a symphony of impacted flesh. The singers started to falter seriously, crying out and grunting, that sound of impacts on flesh overpowering their voices.

Alarm got the better of her, and Harriet pelted up the rest of the stairs and burst into the Owlery—and then immediately doubled over, hands over her head, crying out, as innumerable owls pelted against her, claws and beaks scratching, mouths open in a furious screech, like a feathery whirlwind.

She looked up, through squinting eyes and past upraised arms. Harriet had never pegged owls as capable of being vicious, but here was some undeniable proof. They whirled around the room, forming a howling whirlpool, circulating from the bottom to the top of the owlery and undulating, as a mass, inwards and outwards. Harriet had to wonder how anyone could be singing in chaos like this, and how they would even get their mouth open to try.

"Harriet!" she heard Ginny cry, just audible over the ferocious screeching. "Get over here!"

Harriet's eyes snapped downwards. She saw Ginny crouched in the center of the room, holding hands with a blonde girl Harriet didn't recognize, whose head was bowed. They seemed to flicker in and out of existence, as an owl, or several, would pass in front of them, blocking them from view.

"What the hell is going on?

"Just—get—over—here!"

Harriet scrambled over, tripping, and stumbling and flailing against the many owls that rocketed towards her and bounced off of her body. She twisted around wildly, close to pitching over. She could feel her clothes being tugged at from every angle, like a million tiny hands were aiming to strip her. She faced unbelievable resistance. There was a current of some sort, the owls surging like wind in a storm, and to get to Ginny Harriet had to keep working against it.

One owl came very hard against her back, at the same time as another banged against her legs, and Harriet slammed to the floor. She kept low to the ground, considering her options, until a hand wrapped roughly around one of hers, and wrenched her forward.

Harriet landed almost on top of Ginny, her face pressed into the crook of Ginny's neck, until she was shoved off and they both scrambled to get their bearings. Harriet realized instantly that the threat of owls was much reduced where they all crouched. They flew overhead and around them, as if avoiding them. There was something about where they sat that kept the birds away. Or rather, there was something about the blonde girl crouched on Ginny's other side, who was waving her wand over their heads, looking pale but determined.

"Let's try it again, now that Harriet is here!" she said

"It's not working! We should just get out of here!"

But the other girl started singing, and Ginny scoffed, tightened her grip on Harriet's hand, and started singing too.

Harriet gasped, as something like an electric shock jolted through her body, emanating from where Ginny touched her. Ginny met her eye for a moment, still singing at the top of her lungs, and readjusted her grip.

Slowly, pulling Harriet up with them, Ginny and the other girl stood. Immediately whatever had protected them from the wrath of the owls vanished, and Harriet had to struggle to stay upright as they pelted at her from all directions. Harriet by now realized that the singing had to mean something if Ginny and the blonde girl were so insistent of it. She tried to pick up the tune, but she couldn't make out the lyrics. And now that she was close enough to really hear it, she realized the song was in a foreign language.

Kunanqa allin tuta ninapaq pachaña,

Allin tuta, allinta puñuy.

Kunanqa intiqa k'anchaynintan wañuchin,

Allin tuta, allinta puñuy.

Musquy misk'i musquykunata ñuqapaq, .

Musquy misk'i musquykunata qampaq.

Ñawiykita wisq'ay ñoqataq ñawiyta wisq'asaq,

Allin tuta, allinta puñuy.

It was an incantation, she realized.

And, apparently, thanks to her, it started to work. Harriet felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand up, she saw motes of dust and fallen feathers starting to float up around them. She glanced sideways at Ginny and the other girl, still singing over the animal din, and watched as their hair started to float around them, and their clothes started to flutter as if in a high wind.

The owls continued their rampage just as madly as ever, and Harriet started thinking the spell would still not work—then they all started to slow down. At first gradually, as if they were tiring out or growing dazed. The screaming stopped. The owls started landing on their perches. Then it was all at once. The Owls came to a stop in midair, and plummeted to the floor of the Owlery The whirlpool slowed and dissipated, and turned into a downpour. The owls fell and hit the ground with muffled thuds—like the fattest raindrops conceivable.

Soon the Owlery grew quiet and still. The girls were up to their ankles in fallen birds, and all of them were covered in feathers.

"Bloody hell." Ginny spat in annoyance, brushing feathers off of her shoulder.

Harriet looked around warily. A very large fraction of the owls had plummeted to the floor around them and lay completely still "They're—not dead, are they?"

"Oh heavens no." said the blonde girl in an airy voice. "That was a sleep spell."

Harriet turned to the girl, getting a good look at her for the first time since the ordeal had started, and feeling her heart stop from sudden, bewildered confusion.

"Hell of a sleep spell." Ginny muttered, pulling a feather out from inside her blouse.

"Yes I don't think we had enough power to do it properly, before Harriet came."

"Speaking of…" Ginny said, and snapped her fingers in front of Harriet.

Harriet turned to Ginny, looking like she had seen a ghost. "What's up?"

"You're zoning out." Ginny said "That's terribly rude when I want to introduce you to someone."

"Right, sorry."

"This is Luna Lovegood." Ginny said, "The girl I've been telling you about."

"Pleased to meet you." she said, with her hand out to be shaken. Her hair was dirty blonde and her skin was very pale.

"Er, pleased to meet you. I…I feel like I've met you before…" Harriet said, forcing the line out despite thinking it was an understatement.

"Yes, people say I'm very distinct."

"Where did you get that spell, that one knocked all the owls out?"

"They taught it to me in South America. It's a very old one of theirs. They use it to calm down cattle."

Harriet's attention on Luna was broken by a mighty squaw. Ginny had made attempt to wade through the feathery mess without bothering any of the owls, but kept nearly crushing several of them.

"You know," Ginny said, "As much as I'd love to get introductions completed, I think we'd better get out of here. I think the school will be rather pissed that we knocked out half the owls. Come to think of it, I don't think the owls will be happy, either."

Wading through the owls was easy enough when Ginny told them where to step, and soon all three of them were hurrying down the stairs away from the Owlery.

Harriet's eyes fixed on Luna the whole afternoon afterwards. In the library, where Luna read her books upside-down to 'trick the doxies', at lunch, where Luna where laid her cutlery in some very specific way to 'stop the roundsuckers' from ruining her appetite—even by the lake, where Luna showed them a few grainy photos from her and her father's trip. She was shorter and paler and younger looking. She had larger eyes—or they looked larger because she was skinnier now—they were grey and blue, curious but at ease. Untroubled. Altogether a far cry from the girl she had seen before, but definitely the same person.

Luna Lovegood was the girl in her dream. The girl she had consoled in mourning. The girl whose father had perished.