A.N. – Time for another beloved character to have something horrible befall them. This one hurts me, as it involves my favorite character in the Harry Potter pantheon. I also blended movie and book canon here to suit the timeline I wanted.
Moment 3
Luna jauntily waved to the retreating form of Harry Potter after their cathartic discussion just before. She continued waving long after the teen had rounded the corner and gone out of sight. Somewhere inside, Luna was unwilling to let go so soon of the first positive sign of true friendship she'd been shown at Hogwarts. Sure, she'd been at the recent battle in the Department of Myserties, but she chalked that up more to circumstance than any true camaraderie. And she was a member of the DA, but Dumbledore's Army was almost a necessity for a Ravenclaw like herself to keep up with house standards in the face of their abhorrent professor.
Up until she'd bumped into the Boy Who Lived whilst tracking down her missing possessions, Luna truly thought she had no one on her side in the castle. Strangely enough, a talk about death shifted that perception. Harry, too, was saddled with an unwanted moniker born out of outsider's misconceptions. But that was not to be what they bonded over. Harry's raw, recent loss, and Luna's more distant, but still sore separation had the two breaking down walls neither knew they had built up.
But now Harry was off to catch the train, and Luna was sure he'd have a compartment full of friends awaiting his arrival. She, however, still had many of her possessions to track down, and very little time to do so. Finally letting her swaying hand drop, along with the tentative smile she'd sported since Harry's arrival, Luna looked up at her wayward trainers. Drawing her ever-present wand from behind her ear, she aimed at the brightly colored footwear.
. . . . .
Harry, out of breath, sagged into a seat on the Hogwarts Express. Hermione looked over at him with a small huff of exasperation, and Ron looked ready to ask if he was up for a game of chess. Forestalling both, Harry spoke.
"Hermione, yes I was late, yes, I know I should be more punctual," and here, Harry turned to also take in Ron while talking, "but all I feel like right now is a good long rest."
Ron sank into his seat, though not as deep as Harry, and frowned. Hermione also frowned, but looked more accepting. Sensing yet another blow-up over nothing between his best mates, Harry seriously considered excusing himself to find someone else to sit with. His talk with Luna, while beneficial in starting the healing process, in no way made it complete. He was still torn up with guilt over Sirius, and the abrasive mood within the compartment was doing him no favors for his mental health.
He was just about to get up and open the door when it opened as if summoned to do so. The Head Girl poked her head in, fulfilling her last duty to her school by performing the head count before they could depart. As the door slid shut, the tension seemed to drain away. The three friends looked at one another and agreed to drop it. They'd all had a long couple of days; frayed nerves were to be expected after what had occurred. Hermione (no surprise) cracked open a book. Ron, having been rebuffed in his attempts to start up a game, dug into his bag for some food. And Harry, lost once more in his own thoughts, looked out the window to the home he'd be departing.
They were not departing just then. In fact, the minutes seemed to painfully crawl by, and the wait got noticeable enough that Hermione finally marked her page and put down her book.
"Something's not right. I'm going to the prefect's carriage to see if we're needed," Hermione rose at her proclamation. Once again, the door opened unbidden, this time revealing the form of Minerva McGonagall. Her stern countenance had a pinched look to it, and her hat sat askew atop her head. She raised a hand up to halt her prefect.
"We seem to be missing a student, and seeing as who it is, I came to see you as soon as I was notified," McGonagall was all business, and seeing the gravity with which she was addressing them commanded the trio's full attention. "Would any of you have an idea of where Miss Lovegood might be?"
Harry nodded. "I ran into her a bit ago, before boarding. She was posting flyers for her stolen things," McGonagall's face darkened at that. "And while I couldn't help her find any at the time, I am sure she is still looking."
As the head of Gryffindor blustered out the compartment, Harry was aware enough to call out where he'd last seen her before the door slammed shut. He looked ready to charge after, but Hermione grabbed onto his arm.
"The teachers have this well in hand, Harry. Weren't you just deriding the amount of excitement in your life lately?" At Hermione's calmly delivered argument, the fight drained out of Harry. Merlin, he was tired. Massaging his temple, he sat back down. The only sign of the nervousness he displayed was not removing his hand from Hermione's.
. . . . .
Once inside the Entrance Hall, McGonagall performed a Point Me spell that sent her up two flights of stairs. The ambient magic interwoven in Hogwarts always made this particular method haphazard at best, but at least it narrowed the field down. As she ascended the moving staircases, she pondered the words (and punishment) she'd dole out once the girl was found. No matter if she had a good reason or not, the Hogwarts Express had a timetable to stick to. She decided on a sympathetic tack; Miss Lovegood had apparently already suffered enough, so she'd meter out the necessary discipline in as gentle a manor as she was able.
Rounding a corner into the Charms corridor, a wand laying in the center of the cold, stone corridor brought McGonagall up short. Looking to and fro, the Deputy Headmistress saw no sign of the missing girl. Then, she looked up, to an incongruous tableau.
There were the girl's shoes, dangling from the ceiling.
And there was the girl, swaying gently beside.
