Chapter Four: Dumbledore, Again

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Luna and Ron stumbled, a few seconds later by their perception, into a large and very dark thicket of trees. After looking around a moment, Ron spoke in a whisper.

"Forbidden Forest, d'you think?"

"Yes, it looks very much like it to me," came Luna's high, doubtful reply. "Although I can't say I remember this part of the forest."

"Well, there's the castle — I'd say maybe the edges of the forest are closer in than they are in our time. This bit might not have been there. Won't… be there," he amended with a pained expression, then mumbled, "This time stuff is already giving me a headache."

"I don't think it's the thinking, Ron," Luna commented, eyes fixed on something in the foreground of the castle. "My head's not feeling very well either. And I can't… I can't see the kinds of things I can… you know — " she glanced at him and saw his understanding nod " — as well as I usually can. They're sort of blurry." Her pale brow furrowed in consternation.

He looked at the heavy night sky and said, "What time do you suppose it is? Will anybody be awake?"

"Professor Dumbledore, almost certainly," she murmured back. "From what I remember, he tends to sleep at rather odd hours, and not very much at all. But first we need to get into the castle without being noticed by anybody… the caretaker is probably awake too."

"I'll check the map," Ron muttered, and pulled out one of Harry's possessions which had been stuffed into their hands by Hermione about ten minutes before their departure. He poked it with his wand and intoned, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Black ink spiderwebbed across the parchment, forming the familiar Marauders' Map.

Ron squinted at it for a moment in the moonlight, it apparently having not occurred to him to light his wand. "Looks like the only people awake are… Dumbledore, Dippet — I think that's the Headmaster — and some bloke called Crassus Thornfield. He's wandering about the entrance to the castle."

"That'll be the caretaker, then," Luna remarked dreamily. "We'll have to wait until he goes to bed."

Ron sat down and leaned against one of the less gnarly trees, the map spread out in front of him. He looked up at Luna. "Well, make yourself comfortable. It's not as though we're going anywhere anytime soon, from the looks of this fellow."

Luna sat cross-legged next to him, watching the faded, ghostly forms of the creatures in front of the castle, and sighing in frustration when she again failed to bring them properly into focus.

The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, taking in the sight of the grounds minus Hagrid's hut and the pumpkin patch. It looked curiously empty and overbalanced, with the line of the Forbidden Forest overreaching its usual boundary by a few yards. The sound of crickets was intrusively, startlingly loud, and Luna dug her hands into the soft earth by her hip. "I wonder if it's rained recently," she mused aloud. Ron did not reply.

After another minute she said, "Have you thought about what name you're going to give them? I mean… you can't use your own, there's probably a Weasley at the school now, isn't there?"

He nodded slowly. "That'd be… old Everett Weasley, I'm assuming. My third great-uncle. I only met him once, when I was — I think five or so. He was killed by… some animal." He scrunched up his nose, attempting to remember. "I don't know. Just glad his wife won't be here." Ron shuddered. "Great-aunt Tessie went to school in Australia."

Luna watched him impassively, her wide eyes appearing nearly white in the light of the moon. "I haven't got any family here at the moment," she commented. "My mum and dad won't be here until the sixties… and my grandfather didn't go to a wizarding school." She did not choose to elaborate. Her father hadn't liked to talk about Ophiuchus Lovegood, whom she had only met twice in her life, and she knew next to nothing about her grandmother except that she had been dead at least twenty years. Her mother, as well, had been orphaned at a young age and had hardly ever spoken of her parents to Luna — who, being nine at her oldest before Pandora died, had rarely asked. There had never seemed to be a need for grandparents when the three of them had always been so happy together.

Blinking back a sudden film of tears, Luna ran her fingers over the roots of the tree at her back, wondering how far underground they stretched, invisible to the casual observer. If the tree were upside-down with its trunk in the ground, would its roots then reach to the moon?

"Huh," said Ron, then glanced at the map before looking back at the castle. "I think I'll go with Ron Granger." When Luna smiled in his peripheral vision, he added hurriedly, "Hermione's parents are Muggles, so there's no danger of encountering an unexpected relative of hers or something. Don't tell her."

"I think it's rather sweet, actually," she murmured back. "But if it's that important to you, then your secret is safe with me." She drew her hands out of the dirt and folded them on her lap. "What was Harry's mother's name?"

Ron looked sidelong at her. "Lily. Lily Evans."

"Evans," she hummed, and blew out her breath, nodding. "Luna Evans. That sounds perfectly nice to me."

"You don't need a fake name," Ron pointed out. "Besides, being a Pureblood might give you some extra clout with… him."

"Oh. That's true," she answered, a little disappointed. She wasn't sure she wanted to make friends on the basis of her blood purity, anyway, but with someone like Voldemort one had to start somewhere. After another minute, she turned to look at him. "I don't mean to be nosy, Ron, but could I ask you something?"

"Shoot," he replied. At her puzzled look, he flapped a hand abortively. "Something Harry said once. Go ahead."

She watched him carefully. "You've been acting… very put together these past few days. But Harry was your best friend. Not to mention what happened with your brother." She dropped her hands to the ground again and shifted her position, as the flat earth was beginning to feel uncomfortable. "How are you doing, really?"

Ron let out a long sigh. "I don't know. It's felt a bit like… I don't have time to react as I should. Hermione's usually so collected, and she's been falling to pieces recently… I just felt like one of us should be strong, you know? She's done so much already, I thought — hey!" He sat up straighter and nudged Luna with his elbow. "I think Thornfield's gone to bed. Look."

Luna moved her hair behind her ear and leaned over to peer at the map. Indeed, Crassus Thornfield had moved into a smallish room a little ways off from the entrance to the castle and was no longer moving. "I suppose that's our cue to go," she agreed. "Is Professor Dumbledore still in his office?"

Ron checked. "Yeah." He levered himself off the ground, tapping the map with his wand and muttering mischief managed. "Let's go."

Luna rose, entwining her dirty hands together, and smiled brightly at him. "After you."

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The two of them were able to enter the castle without much difficulty, although Ron lamented the loss of Harry's Invisibility Cloak, which would have proven extremely useful but had been lost back in their own timeline sometime during the third wave of attacks. At length, they reached the stairs which led up to the Headmaster's office, and then stopped.

Ron huffed. "Well, bollocks. We haven't got the password… I suppose we can just start saying the names of different candies until it works," he ventured.

Luna frowned. "Wait — Wait." She caught Ron's sleeve. "Ron, remember, Professor Dumbledore's not Headmaster. It's 1943. He's the…" She thought hard for a moment. "Transfiguration Master. I think. So he'd have Professor McGonagall's old office."

Ron slapped his forehead. "Right. Sorry." Then he glanced at her with a humorous glint in his eye. "You mean McGonagall's future office."

Luna laughed lightly and started walking in the direction of the Transfiguration Master's office. Shaking his head, Ron jogged after her.

The two of them made the not-insubstantial distance across the castle in record time. When they reached the heavy wooden door, Ron hesitated; Luna, however, immediately raised a hand and knocked politely. No use wasting time.

"Come in," came Dumbledore's voice after a moment, sounding perturbed. Luna spared a glance for Ron, who looked faintly green, and opened the door.

A startlingly young Albus Dumbledore was standing behind a large mahogany writing desk in the middle of the room; he couldn't have been older than fifty-five, and his beard was a muted ginger instead of the familiar brilliant snow-white Luna remembered. An impressive accumulation of books, papers, and miscellaneous magical objects lay scattered about the desk and all around the room, in such a way that it was obvious that the room's inhabitant knew exactly where each item lay and had placed them as such intentionally. In the corner, on a little perch, sat a bright-eyed, brilliantly plumed phoenix. Luna couldn't help smiling; Fawkes had been a friend to her during many of her more unpleasant times at Hogwarts. As she watched, the bird tilted its head and trilled at her.

This brief interaction was not missed by Dumbledore, who briefly scrutinised Fawkes before turning to face Ron and Luna. "I'm terribly sorry," he said in his low, polite baritone. "I can't seem to recall your names." His sharp eyes landed on each of them in turn, and it looked as though he was perfectly aware of the reason why this was the case.

"That's because we aren't students," Luna replied calmly. "Not current ones, anyway."

Ron shot her an exasperated look. "Yes, let's lead with that, shall we?" he growled. Luna met his eyes and shrugged unapologetically.

The two of them looked back at Dumbledore, who sat down behind his desk, watching them evenly. "I think the two of you had better explain yourselves," he said, "before I report you to the Headmaster for trespassing."

"May we sit?" inquired Luna, and without waiting for a response, conjured a tall, sunflower-patterned chair for her and Ron each, and sat. Ron, after standing in silence for a moment, belatedly followed suit and fixed Dumbledore with a somewhat self-consciously intense expression.

"Now," said Luna, "there is a student currently at this school by the name of Tom Riddle. Is that correct?"

Dumbledore's brows drew down. "If you two are asking for my help in harming a student of mine — any student — "

"No, no," said Luna hurriedly, although Ron glanced at her, looking uncomfortable at the half-lie. "You see — well, it's a bit complicated…" She floundered briefly, wondering where to start.

"We're from the future," Ron said solidly, "from the year 1998. Tom Riddle is a Dark Wizard calling himself Lord Voldemort, and we're in the middle of a war between those loyal to Hogwarts, and his followers." He looked down, frowning, before continuing, "A war we aren't very likely to win."

"He's committed a great many atrocities," Luna put in softly. "Killed people, tortured people, stole things. He killed our friend." She paused, and went on almost inaudibly, "Quite a lot of our friends, actually."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, taking this in, and then sighed heavily. "I might have known," he said, with a sad sort of resignation. "I always had my suspicions about Tom, but I still had some hope that he might be willing to change, that he might… how does one say it? … turn out."

"Well, he didn't," Ron responded, with a glance at Luna. "But we're here to try to change that. If we can." Luna nodded in affirmation.

"I see." Dumbledore drummed his fingers on his desk. "How do you plan to go about this? I must tell you, he is a… very closed-off young man. Even as a child, he possessed some deeply troubling characteristics, and if I may venture a guess, I would say he has likely changed very little since then. Except in stature, of course," he added, somewhat humorously, then turned somber again. "Befriending Tom Riddle to the point of altering his personality and motives will not be by any means an easy task."

"We weren't really hoping for easy," Luna admitted, looking somewhat more serious as well. "Just possible."

At this, Dumbledore opened his hands. "I'm not sure I need to mention this to either of you, but possible is no sure thing either."

"You don't," Ron assured him, voice hard. Luna looked at him, and his eyes were unfocused and glittering with anger. It was clear he was thinking of Harry, and of Fred.

"Anyway," Luna began again, "we were hoping that perhaps you could help us… blend in. Get settled, and so forth. We haven't any proper aliases for this time, not really, so going through official channels and such would likely be rather difficult."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, that is understandable." Slowly, he stood, and looked between the two of them, his piercing eyes locking with theirs and seeming to understand everything about their intentions. "I will do the best I can to help you. But you'd best be warned: dealing with an altered timeline is tricky business. You may not always be able to predict how events will unfold, despite your knowledge of your own timeline. I can't promise either of you that your interference in events now will not lead to a worse future than the one you came from." He paused. "And if, or when, it comes down to a question of whether or not you are willing to murder Tom to obtain the outcome you want… do not expect any kind of assistance from me. Is that clear?"

"Yes," said Luna, meeting his eyes steadily. Ron, after a moment of hesitation, nodded.

Dumbledore sat back down. "Now, have the two of you discussed the matter of your houses?"

Ron and Luna looked at each other, a little uncertainly. "I'm a Gryffindor," Ron volunteered, "and Luna was in Ravenclaw…"

Dumbledore was already shaking his head. "I understand your desire to be among others like yourselves, especially in an unfamiliar time when you are likely to feel very isolated. However, I would recommend that you both consent to be placed in Slytherin."

Ron recoiled instinctively, but Luna's mouth quirked in thought. "I suppose it would be simpler that way," she commented. "With classes, and such. Easier to find ways to interact with him."

"Precisely," was Dumbledore's reply, but Ron didn't look any more comfortable with the idea.

"Look," he said through gritted teeth, "I'm not a Slytherin. Luna isn't either, but at least nobody will be staring at her wondering why she's there."

"Want to bet?" muttered Luna wryly, a corner of her lips curling upwards.

Ron continued as if she hadn't spoken. "If I get placed in Slytherin, I'll stick out like a sore thumb. It'll be obvious I'm not supposed to be there. No matter how much I try to keep my head down, just the fact that I look like a Weasley is reason enough for them to notice something unusual." He jerked his head at Luna. "Besides, she's the one who came with the plan of making friends with the little b- … bugger," he tried, then winced. "I'm just… the backup."

Dumbledore's eyes were steely. "I see. Well, I suppose being in a different house would not impede your ability to be the… backup… if and when the time came."

"Right," said Ron, looking a little nervous.

"While we're at it," Dumbledore went on more coolly, "I suppose I should ask your names. Or at least, what names you are planning on answering to whilst you are undertaking this effort." He gazed at each of them, brows raised.

"I'm Luna Lovegood," Luna told him. "That's Ronald Weasley, as you might have figured out, but he'll be answering to Granger for the time being."

"Years?" inquired the professor, looking at the both of them as if he already had an estimate.

"Seventh and sixth," said Ron, "so, me and her, respectively. We'll be set back about eight or nine months, but it's not as though either of us was really learning much this past year, what with Voldemort's people being at the school and… me not being there and all." He cleared his throat, evidently uncomfortable with Dumbledore's sharp gaze being so closely trained on him.

"Fine, fine," Dumbledore replied absently. "The two of you can sleep in your house dormitories tonight. The start of term is in a few days, so the majority of students will not be arriving until then. Mr. Weasley — pardon me, Mr. Granger — I trust you know the way to your own common room; the current password is 'binglebangle.' Miss Lovegood, you are free to choose whether you would like to stay in the Ravenclaw or the Slytherin girls' dormitory for the time being. The password to the Slytherin common room is 'blackthorn.'" He peered at her for a moment. "Should you need assistance to reach the Slytherin common room, I'm sure Fawkes would be happy to oblige."

"That's all right," Luna demurred, although she nevertheless hoped for a later chance to spend some time with Fawkes while here. "I'm sure I can get there by myself." She stood, Vanishing her chair, and waited a moment for Ron to get up so she could do the same to his. Turning back to Dumbledore, she said, "Thank you very much for all your help."

Ron coughed, then echoed, "Yeah… thanks." He ducked out of the office quickly, making his way down the hall. Luna made to follow him, but at the last moment turned back to Dumbledore.

"Your head seems to be remarkably clear of Wrackspurts," she commented. To be honest it was difficult for her to tell at the moment whether anybody at all had Wrackspurts or not, but she trusted that it was true anyway, and it was her most favoured compliment. You could always tell a good person if you just looked at their ears.

Dumbledore's eyes crinkled in pleasure. "Thank you," he said, without any further comment. Luna smiled at him and ran off after Ron, to remind him that they needed to set up a time and place to rendezvous for the next day, and that he needed to pull his own trunk out of the moke-skin bag so that he had something to wear in the morning.