!
Stand Tall - The Rise of Harry Potter
Chapter V
The Triwizard Tournament
English countryside rolled gently by as it always did aboard the rattling steam train that carted students to and from Hogwarts every year. Sheep littered the landscape of man made patchwork fields - little square parcels of land that Ron supposed kept the country fed - even the wizarding portion of it. You couldn't conjure food after all, and Ron knew better than most - a wizard's gotta eat.
Hermione had gone off on one of her now regular walks through the carriages of the Hogwarts express, catching up with the comings and goings of the people they had classes with year after year. Harry on the other hand, was sleeping fitfully against the window. He was a light sleeper and didn't seem to ever get enough of it, so Ron was being extra careful not to wake him from it.
This however, had the disadvantage of leaving Ron Weasley alone with his thoughts, and that was somewhere he tried to never be if he could help it.
Hermione often accused him of not thinking, which was incredibly unfair. Ron was more than willing to put his mind to a problem, and could quite often fashion a unique and inventive solution that neither of his two friends had considered themselves. Of course, he knew full well that his incredibly intelligent friend didn't really mean that kind of thinking at all. She was talking about the other, more introspective kind of thinking, and it was that kind of thinking that Ron abhorred.
In all honesty, Ron had never been all that happy with himself. Ever since he was old enough to really realise it, he had been a victim of sorts of his larger than life family. Bill and Charlie were fantastic older brothers. Bill was cool and supportive, always having his younger siblings back and ready with some kind of advice or cheering up. Charlie, on the other hand, was funny and talented. Great at quidditch and amazing with people, Charlie charmed the pants off of anybody he came across, and had been nearly unbeatable as a seeker. Both had gone on to have really good careers after Hogwarts, and with a little more experience and time, would both make a packet financially as they advanced in their professions.
Percy was the brains. A stickler for the rules, he had been a prefect and head boy, and his grades were never less than perfect. He had only left school last year, and he already had a job in the Ministry - Mum and Dad couldn't be prouder. The was true of Fred and George of course, though Mum would never admit it out loud. The twins were equally clever in their own way, and were also incredibly talented beaters. The very fact they could have matched Percy's grades was a Weasley family secret that they all all knew but never said out loud, and the only reason they didn't match him was because they quite simply had made the decision not to.
They already had grand plans of some sort to open their own joke shop, and though once again their mother would never say it out loud, each and every one of them had no doubt the twin would pull it off in the end. Ginny was younger than him, yet still seemed to outshine him by virtue of her very existence. She was the first female Weasley to be born in Merlin knows how long, and there wasn't a single person in their family who didn't bang on about it. Added to that she was already showing herself to be a dab hand at charms and defense - more so than he had ever been a dab hand at anything, and the youngest Weasley male couldn't deny the pattern.
Quite simply, he was the weakest Weasley link. Never outstanding at anything, never showing any talents off. Ron Weasley was just average. He knew that really, that should be fine - plenty of people were average, it was why people called it 'average' after all. That didn't matter to him though, it still burned him, gnawing away at him whenever he let it - whenever he thought, really. He hated feeling substandard, feeling weak. He hated the notion that he would never be known for being anything other than a brother to one of the successful Weasleys.
And then of course, he went and became best friends with Hermione Granger and Harry bloody Potter.
Hermione was destined for greatness - how could she not be? Superhuman intellect, could pull off just about any spell a Professor threw at her after a few tries. The girl was born to do magic, and worked her socks off to boot. Then there was Harry. Mostly the raven haired boy was his dorky mate who sucked at chess, was a great laugh at times and ate treacle tart like Ron ate everything else. More importantly however, Ron knew damn well and good that Harry Potter was the one person not a Weasley that would go to bat for him if he asked, no hesitation and no questions asked.
The trouble was, Harry was special too. Not because of that daft Boy-Who-Lived bollocks - Ron had parted with the illusions to do with his mate and that fairy tale pretty much the first time he had met a confused and clueless eleven year old at the Platform. No, Harry was special. Not because of a scar or some crap that happened when he was one, but because of who he was. Ron had realised very quickly that Harry just didn't let things go - not when he thought they weren't right. Not when Buckbeak was due to be executed thanks to that prat Malfoy, not when some girl they didn't really like was alone with a troll because of some berk's thoughtless words.
Harry felt like he had to do something about it, and he made the people around him feel like it to. Ron didn't really feel like Hermione had been his problem until he'd thought about it later, but he still found himself using one of the three spells he knew at the time to try and stop the thing from flattening her and Harry. Hermione would never in a million years have gone after the stone after being told to leave well enough alone without Harry there.
He saw a thing that he thought needed to be done, and Ron'd be damned if he'd ever seen Harry not do something he'd actually put his mind to. His best friend just had the aura of the remarkable about him, this constant sensation of something out of the ordinary about to happen, and Ron was lucky enough to be along for the ride.
Lucky, that was a pretty important word when it came to being Ron Weasley. He was blessed to have the family and friends he had, lucky that they loved him just as much as he loved them.
Which was why he never hated who he was more than when he felt a now familiar simmering jealousy and resentment whenever Harry did something remarkable. He loved his best mate, though he'd never say it out loud. He would give his life to save Harry's if it ever came to it - a scenario far more likely than a guy might think, given the situations they tended to get themselves into - which made the fact that he felt those things around his best mate even worse. But he couldn't help it - deep down, Ron knew he wanted nothing more than to stand out, have someone recognise him for something he did and no one else.
That could never happen though. He'd always be Bill Weasley's younger brother, or Harry Potter's best friend and he would go on hating it, and to an extent himself.
The compartment door slid open, revealing a living breathing smirk, and Ron was greeted with quite possibly the worst person to come across after such a depressing line of thought.
Draco bloody Malfoy.
With him of course was his usual entourage of Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle, plus two Slytherin girls he knew by name but had never spoken to, Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis. Ron didn't even need to take his eyes away from the new group to know Harry was now wide awake - the slightest disturbance got him wide awake pretty quickly.
Malfoy's gaze swept across the pair of them, in an imitation of what Ron supposed the berk thought was imperious. A smirk, ever so slight teased at the corner of his mouth.
"Terribly sorry ladies - I hadn't meant to spoil your day." Malfoy had always possessed the truest knack for getting on Ron's nerves and Harry knew it. The voice, the way he turned up his nose around them letting them know just how beneath him everyone else was. Harry really could understand why Ron tended to lose his temper when it came to the blond haired git.
"Get stuffed Malfoy, surely you've got something better be doing? I know we do." The smirk grew, and Harry already knew that he'd lost the upper hand in this exchange, and his chances of diffusing things before Malfoy said something that'd really get under Ron's skin had just disappeared.
"Potter, are you simple? I just apologised to my friends here for ruining their day with this. I was hoping not to have to tarnish my day with the likes of you." He turned to his expanded entourage. "Let's not waste any more of our time, shall we?" Malfoy walked out without waiting for a response, Crabbe and Goyle hot on his heels as always. Daphne Greengrass followed swiftly after with Davis, but not before giving him a hard stare that Harry couldn't quite figure out. Pansy remained only a moment longer, also looking at Harry. She had an air of being confused about her, almost as if she was existing in a moment in time behind the rest of them. Harry was about to say something - oddly compelled to ask if the girl was okay, before she hurried out, a little faster than was comfortable.
Harry could hear Ron seething next to him, the usual Malfoy related expletives that were saved for occasions when Hermione was absent streaming out of his mouth. The furious red head probably hadn't noticed the odd shift in atmosphere with the Slytherin. Up until now, Draco Malfoy had been a weird mix of self importance and insecurity. So proud to be who he was, and yet so afraid to not live up to that mantle. For a time in first year, Harry had harbored fantasies of discovering that the Potters were a powerful and influential wizarding family that trumped the Malfoys, and of being able to lord it over the blond. Hermione had taken it upon herself to relieve him of that fantasy however, discovering that the Malfoys were actually an incredibly powerful family. They were model Slytherins - incredible business acumen, combined with the cunning required to manipulate and use the wizarding government and elite to their advantage.
The Potters were wealthy but not even close to being on the same level. His grandfather, Fleamont Potter had made the family their wealth selling hair potions, and his father had used a considerable amount of that in the war effort before Harry's birth. Only twice had a member of his family even sat on the Wizengamot, so in both wealth and political influence the Malfoy's beat out his own family by miles. The fantasy was indulgent and childish, and in hindsight, the weight of being a Malfoy must weigh pretty heavily on Draco's shoulders. It didn't excuse his behaviour, but alongside his father's abhorrent views it went some way towards explaining it.
This weight had always shown in how he and Malfoy had interacted. Ever since that first refusal of friendship, Malfoy had always viewed him as a threat because of his fame, somebody to knock down a peg to make himself look superior. To prove he was worthy of being a Malfoy - Hermione had said that he needed to do it because inside, he doubted that he was, and that explanation resonated with Harry.
This time was difference. He was antagonistic, sure, but not desperate for a win. This was had been an amusing distraction for him, not the main event. There was a confidence about him that had never been there before and Harry couldn't help but wonder where the change had come from.
Before long, Ron's anger had lost enough of his edge that the arrival of the snack trolley was able to distract him fully, and the pair could settle into easy conversation, before Hermione returned to their carriage and joined the conversation.
Harry couldn't help the excited smile that had begun to creep onto his face as the train drew closer and closer to it's destination. Hogwarts had a different edge now. Voldemort was returning, and Harry would have to prepare. Dark things were coming, and too many dark things had already happened there for the ancient castle not to be tainted slightly in his mind. Despite this though, Hogwarts was still his home. That battered old castle, with it's tricky staircases that did their utmost to confuse and disorientate you, it's towering parapets that reached endlessly into the brisk Scottish air - so filled with magic and mystery that Harry thought he could spend three lifetimes there and not discover all there was - it was where he belonged.
Stars filled the empty night sky, shimmering brightly against the endless black with a silvery effervescence. The moon lay full above it all, but cast no glow and did not illuminate the world below as it usually did because below the students of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry sat with a quiet buzz, all eyes on the set of first years stood at the back of the Great Hall waiting to be sorted.
"Look! It's my brother!" The excited voice of Colin Creevey reached him from several seats down and made Harry smile despite himself. If he was anything like his older brother, the newest Creevey would charm and aggravate Harry in equal measure, and oddly this year, he found himself okay with that. All around him, student milled around chatting and catching up with their friends, and Harry wondered how he had never noticed this before. Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell were at the Hufflepuff table, deep in conversation; whilst Fred and George had a good quarter of Ravenclaw's table in stitches. Taking another look, Harry realised that there was a good mix of other houses at their own table talking to people, and even some Slytherins had found their way over to the Ravenclaw table.
Mr Weasley's advice came to mind, and Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of regret as he watched all of these different reunions and interactions take place. How much had he missed out on in trying to blend in - how many potential friends had he lost because he didn't want to stand out any more than he already did? He suspected that in doing so, he had only stood out more regardless.
Still, he was lucky. He had time to make sure he fixed this particular mistake.
"Everything okay, Harry?"
It was Hermione, concern written across her face.
"Yeah." He answered, still a little distant. "I was thinking it might be nice to make a few more friends this year." Hermione looked taken aback for a second, before nodding enthusiastically.
"I think that's a wonderful idea, Harry." They both glanced towards Ron, but the redhead was deep in conversation with Dean Thomas, the three year old debate of football vs quidditch ignited once more. "Ron would agree... probably."
Harry couldn't help but laugh, but inside his confidence grew. Making new friends was all well and good, but he wouldn't even consider it if his current ones weren't there with him.
Soon enough, the first years had been sorted and had joined their house tables, and all of the students were eating there fill at the always glorious welcoming feast. Dennis Creevey had naturally been sorted into Gryffindor, and had nervously taken his place at their table alongside a new girl with straw like hair - Natalie McDonald.
"You're really rather lucky there is a feast at all you know." Came a rather pompous sounding voice out of literally nowhere, causing Harry to jerk violently in surprise. In the corner of his eye, he noticed Ron had spat out a mouthful of particularly delicious steak in shock. The voice belonged to one Nearly Headless Nick, the ethereal spectre that was somewhat of a mascot for Gryffindor house. He noticed that the new girl - Natalie - had gone sheet white, her fork shaking in her hand; but more than anything, Natalie was looking to see how they reacted to the ghost's presence. Muggleborn, then.
"Oh, hi Nick - how was your summer?" He asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. He considered the ghost, oddly, as a friend despite the fact the partially beheaded man had scared the wits out of him quite on purpose.
"Delightful, thank you kindly. The halls of Hogwarts with no students in the dead of winter are wonderfully eerie. Some friends from the Headless Hunt joined me for the Yule festivities - it was positively haunting."
"What happened with the feast, Sir Nicholas?" Trust Hermione to keep the conversation on track.
"Ah yes!" The ghost exclaimed with an over dramatic wave of his translucent hand. Natalie was enjoying the spectacle now, giggling quietly at the formerly living man's antics. "Well, it was a similar story to most years if I'm quite honest. The poltergeist was complaining about his banning from the feast - quite understandable course of action from the headmaster, and the several before him in fact - in the kitchens. He might have a leg to stand on if he hadn't responded this year by tormenting the poor house-elves - and, of course, if he actually had legs."
"Wait - Hogwarts has house-elves?" Hermione near enough shrieked, and both Ron and Harry shared a look where they mutually understood the coming danger. "But they're paid? And have holidays - and pensions?"
"Hermione my dear, house elves don't want pensions." Sir Nick retorted with not a small amount of matter-of-factly disdain.
"But-"
"Hermione." Harry interrupted, keen to stop this becoming a full on argument. With a ghost. On the first day. "Why don't we look into it. Research house-elves some more, maybe head to the kitchens and talk to some of them - actually hear their side of the story?"
Hermione looked like she wanted to argue, and Harry quite understood. The idea of essentially a slave race doing all the menial jobs for the students and getting nothing in return made him uncomfortable as well. He was trying to remember though, that the wizarding world operated on a whole other system of logic and rules than the muggle one did. Jumping to conclusions wouldn't help them help the house-elves, even if they truly did need it. "Fine," she reluctantly agreed after a tense few moments. "But I'm not eating this food - it was made with slave labour."
"And what would refusing to eat their food accomplish, besides offending the people you're trying to help, Hermione. The Dursley's made me cook for them almost every night once I was old enough. I hated it, but it still hurt when one of them insulted what I'd done."
Bringing the Dursleys into things was an underhanded tactic, but it worked. Hermione continued to eat, reluctantly only at first.
Harry was just beginning to walk the line between full and painfully so, when Dumbledore stood serenely, and without him ever having to say a word, the hall fell silent within a few moments. He smiled softly, taking a moment to cast his eyes across the assembled students.
"Good evening to all. I hope as I, you are suitably stuffed and splendidly satisfied by tonight's wonderful feast. It has fallen on me to welcome most of you back to Hogwarts, and some of you for the very first time. Our esteemed caretaker Mr Filch has asked me to inform you that the list of items banned on the corridors has expanded to include screaming yo-yos and fanged frisbees. The full list is available in his office for anybody who wishes to peruse it, and I believe it now includes some four hundred and forty-seven items." Nobody in the room missed the twitch of amusement under the Headmaster's silvery beard.
"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not be taking place at Hogwarts this year." Hushed whispers broke out across the Hall. Harry was aghast, and Fred and George Weasley were staring at each other, mouths opening and closing but apparently too appalled to actually speak. "This is due to an event that will be taking place this year at Hogwarts - it give me great pleasure to announce that Hogwarts will this year be hosting the Triwizard Tournament. It will be the first to have been held in over a century, and the students of Beaubaxtons and Durmstrang will be staying here during the year to also compete."
"You're JOKING!" Called Fred Weasley loudly, and nearly everyone laughed - including Professor Dumbledore.
"I am not Mr Weasley, though I did hear an excellent one over the summer involving a troll, a leprechaun and a hag that all go into a bar-" Professor McGonagall coughed loudly, and Dumbledore had the decency to appear a little abashed as he continued to explain the premise of the Triwizard Tournament. Apparently, the tournament was a tradition started some seven hundred years ago, where students of the three schools Dumbledore had mentioned competed in magical tasks of skill and daring - that just so happened to include differing levels of mortal danger. It was as Dumbledore mentioned that the tournament had been abandoned precisely because the death toll had gotten so high - including a year where none of those competing survived - that Harry began to feel a familiar sinking feeling deep in his gut.
Even as Dumbledore talked about how, to prevent this, they were going to impose a magically enforced age restriction, Harry just couldn't shake the idea that this was somehow going to drag him in. He couldn't put a finger on it, but something inside him knew that this would be the thing that he had to deal with this year, just as there had been something every year he had been at Hogwarts.
Reassuringly, this was precisely the kind of thing he had been endeavoring to be ready for.
By and large, the feast continued on as it always did after Dumbledore's announcement, though Harry was considerably more withdrawn than he had been prior despite Angelina stopping by to have a quick chat about keeping up some kind of quidditch practice going for Gryffindor this year. Harry had agreed without really hearing what he was actually agreeing to.
Some ten minutes before the end, dessert had been interrupted by the arrival of a grizzled Mad-Eye Moody, apparently a former auror, and their new Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher. He had a gnarled old wooden leg with the twisted looking wood beautifully engraved; and most noticeably, a single beady black eye, and one large, round glass eye, electric blue and careening wildly around the room as he walked the the Head Table. Ron seemed to think the man was crazy, and Hermione was intimidated by his appearance, but as Ron spoke about the man's incredible record and reputation, Harry couldn't help but feel a tingle of excitement about attending his lessons.
Before long, the time for them to head to Gryffindor common room had come, and they followed the prefects excitedly to their home for the coming school year.
Across the years they had been at Hogwarts, Fred and George had seemingly perfected the art of the common room party. Merlin only knew how they had smuggled in this much butterbeer, and somehow the music seemed to straddle the line between loud enough for a party and loud enough to result in McGonagall breaking the whole thing up. Harry had a tendency to enjoy the atmosphere but mostly keep to himself, Ron and Hermione. He loved how happy everyone was and the relaxed atmosphere, but especially loved how people had more fun things to do than make a big deal out of him.
This year though, given his chat with Mr Weasley and what he'd noticed in the hall, was different. He had gotten settled in with Ron and Hermione, but soon made a beeline for Natalie McDonald, who had been shyly sitting by herself on the outskirts. It had been awkward going at first, the girl clearly incredibly nervous, but seeing as she didn't know the big deal around 'being Harry Potter' (his muggleborn guess had been correct) it was better than it could have been. As it turns out, she was just about as sweet as anybody Harry had ever met, but had never really had much in the way of friends. Apparently, she had realised she was 'different' when she had made friends with a ghost that had been haunting her school. She had realised she was magical however, when she had gotten so bored of cleaning her bedroom, she had started making it clean itself.
The last Potter could certainly relate to having trouble with friends, and as much as it made him feel uncomfortably like Malfoy, a group of first years whispering and pointing in his direction gave him an idea.
"Natalie," He started quietly. "Follow my lead." The girl was confused but didn't argue as he led her over to the group of first years. "Hey guys, I'm Harry Potter - welcome to Gryffindor." He introduced himself with a smile that was far easier looking than he actually felt. "Have you met my friend, Natalie?"
It was a little spooky, really, how much sway he could exert in that way. All it took was for him to mention that Natalie was his friend, and to them, she was almost as fascinating as 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' was. He managed to extract himself from the group fairly early, leaving Natalie to continue chatting animatedly to her year mates without him.
From that point on, Harry decided he would make it his personal goal to speak to as many people as he could at the party. Meet some people he didn't know that well or at all, and make sure he caught up properly with people he already knew. Gryffindor House wasn't the most adventurous way of really improving his network of friends, but it surely was the best place to make a start. Oddly, he found that the more he did it - the more he forced himself to start conversations with people - the easier he found it, even if he didn't really know that person. There were some awkward moments, sure, but he found that asking that person a question about themselves seemed to get past that quite nicely.
He realised, several hours in, that he had been having fun. Neville had a casual, easy going way about him that made him incredibly easy to talk to. He had apparently gotten permission from his Gran this summer to start work on the family greenhouse that had fallen into disrepair some time ago, and the passion he showed when talking about some of the strange plants he was working with could rival that of Ron regarding quidditch. He also discovered that Colin Creevey, as oddly cheerful as he was, had conquered his overt obsession with Harry Potter. More than that, the blond photographer had a wicked sense of humour, evidenced when he spiked Fred of all people's drink with a dissolved puking pastille.
Eventually though, the party began to wear on somewhat and Harry realised that it was time to get some air. Normally, Harry would invite one of Ron or Hermione with him, but both were caught up in their own conversations. So, Marauders Map and invisibility cloak to hand, Harry swung the portrait of the Fat Lady open, and took to the dark corridors of Hogwarts.
The castle at night was a magical place - far more than it was at any other time. Hallways dimly lit by candlelight, covered in suits of armour and moving portraits, seemed to writhe and shift as you looked down them. The sounds of ghosts and elves carried across the cold granite almost all the way through the castle. Uneven floors, easily navigated by daylight became treacherous, and the looming threat of turning a corner into something that could reveal your trespass to a Professor added an element of thrill and adrenaline that Harry couldn't help but live for.
Vivid emerald eyes shone in the candlelight as Harry made certain no one was nearby before he checked the map for Snape and Filch's position. The cantankerous Filch could be outwitted if you were clever enough on the fly and could avoid his pesky feline accomplice. Being cornered by Snape, on the other hand, meant almost certain doom, with or without his cloak.
It had been a wise decision. Snape was lurking two corridors across, on the path between Gryffindor common room and the kitchens. The crooked nosed git had positioned himself to catch Gryffindors exclusively, eschewing his normal patrols around all four houses. Bastard. Harry had been planning to start that way, pondering a night time visit with Dobby, his House-elf friend. Fortunately, something else piqued his interest. Luna Lovegood wandering the sixth floor, well away from the Ravenclaw common room. He didn't know the girl personally and couldn't picture what she looked like, but had heard some unfortunate stories about how she was treated by her house.
The idea that she had been forced to leave her own common room, true or not, caused indignation to flare in Harry; and without making a sound, he set off.
He'd never say it out loud, but he much preferred these excursions when he was alone. Driven by his own curiosity or desire, with nothing but the sound of his breathing and his heartbeat in his ear to keep him company in the crisp highlands air that penetrated even the magic of Hogwarts. He walked at a hurried pace, knowing now the patterns by which the stairs liked to change, picking a considered route through the castle. A quick check of the map told him that he had left Snape and Filch behind, only needing to worry about them now on his path back to the common room.
As he moved past the transfiguration classroom on the fourth floor, Sir Cadogan roused heartily from his painting on the floor, and for a heart stopping moment Harry thought he would be rumbled by the well meaning knight. But no - almost as soon as he leapt to his feet, his snoring continued standing up, leaning against his steed. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and carried on, putting out of his mind the ghostly cackles of the maniacal Peeves as he passed the fifth, and the loud crashes of whatever mischief he was preparing - that was one mystery he wanted no part of.
Finally, he arrived at the summit of the staircase leading to the seventh, and another brief glance at the map told him Luna was close, seemingly drifting through the halls at a snail's pace. He set off again, this time slower and more cautious - he didn't want to spook the girl after all, or make her think he was a professor approaching. Suddenly, he could hear her dull footsteps, and was painfully aware she was around the next corner. He made to turn it, but something held him back - a gut feeling, an instinct screamed at him to proceed with caution.
He poked his head round the corner and saw her. Now he could place the face that went with the name. Dirty blonde hair, straggly and almost entirely down her back trailed behind her, as the girl's dirty feet padded down the hallway in almost a stagger. Harry thought to call out, but his voice caught in his throat. Now wasn't the time. She was in some sort of nightgown, white originally, but in this well-windowed corridor she seemed to glow with a haunting luminescent blue. She continued on her path, rounding the next corner, all the while running small hands across the nearside wall of the scant corridor.
Harry didn't know why - the girl was only a year younger than her - but Luna Lovegood looked so incredibly young in the light. Fragile. He followed her round the corner, as quietly as he could.
The next corridor was bare, bar one picture - something to do with dancing trolls - and Luna continued down it, eerily reminiscent of a puppet being moved on worn and tangled strings. Harry rounded the corner too, but hung back, not wanting to be heard by the girl until she rounded the next corner.
Only, she didn't. She turned on her heels, spinning round with a sharpness that had Harry thinking he had been caught, and continued ambling in the direction she had come from. For the first time, Harry got a good look at the girl's face. Oddly the first thing he noticed was a smudge of dirt on her left cheek, especially odd considering just adjacent were eyes that were a spectacular silvery blue. Harry might have been struck by them, had worry not gripped him at the sight of them. These eyes gazed into the distance, completely devoid of focus and thought as she paced the corridor. Her mouth was set in a distant smile, utterly detached from the rest of her. Three times she paced, until Harry head a slight knock behind him. He turned slightly to face it, only to be greeted with a suspicious Mrs Norris prowling from the direction he had come from.
He cursed. Staying still meant doom, and for Luna too-
Luna was gone.
She was not around the next corner, nor in any of the adjacent corridors. Before returning to the common room, Harry also checked the map, only to find that Luna was nowhere to be seen on that either.
Sleep came with great difficulty that night.
