Harry honestly had no clue how to feel about the Dursleys' deaths. There were so many conflicting feelings warring within him, and figuring out the dominant one, least of all the emotions he should be feeling, seemed impossible. He felt happy he would definitively never have to live with them again and guilty about being happy about people dying, especially a child. He felt a sense of vindictive satisfaction that they finally suffered a fraction of the fear and helplessness he'd had to go through all his life and guilt for relishing in suffering. And he felt a sickening horror at how awful their deaths had been. Petunia, strangled by her own husband. Dudley, drowned in a toilet. And Vernon, forced to slam his head against a wall repeatedly.

The Dursleys never loved him. But they'd made no pretentions of doing so either. Unlike many adults, they'd been honest about their feelings. They'd never claimed to feel anything but disgust, hatred, and fear towards him. They were consistent, quite unlike the people who worshipped him one moment and then hated him the next. For a solid decade, they'd been the most central figures in his life. Harry didn't miss them, per se, but…a pillar of his life had been knocked down nonetheless. It was jarring.

Mum must have loved Petunia. Or else why would she have left him with her? And Petunia must have loved Mum at some point, if only very briefly when they were children. How would Mum feel about her sister and nephew's deaths, Harry wondered? Would Mum be ashamed of Harry for thinking so badly of them, for not being able to mourn them properly? Perhaps she would; he felt ashamed of himself, after all.

One thing Harry was certain of in the midst of his emotional turmoil was that Sirius did not kill them. It was just impossible. Harry very reluctantly conceded to himself it was possible for Sirius to kill Vernon and Petunia. He'd joked about doing it in the past, and he might have just snapped after seeing that article. It may have not been entirely his fault; who knew how his mental state had deteriorated from all those years in Azkaban? But Harry didn't believe Sirius had it in him to kill Dudley, especially not in such a coldblooded manner. Sirius wouldn't kill a child. Harry believed this in his soul.

So if it wasn't him, then what happened? The question kept on churning through his head. It was entirely possible someone was impersonating Sirius through Polyjuice Potion or some other method. Or maybe possessing him like Voldemort had done to Quirrell. But who would do that? What would be the benefit? Sirius was already a wanted criminal. What was the point of making him look more guilty? The only possible answer was that someone was trying to turn Harry against Sirius, and that definitely narrowed down the list of suspects.

It had to be someone who knew Sirius wasn't Harry's enemy. Someone who would benefit from having Sirius crossed off the list of potential guardians. Benefit, perhaps, in the sense that they'd be the next logical choice of his guardian.

"Shit," Harry muttered as he realized the implication of what he was describing.

"Mr. Potter, that would be ten points from Gryffindor!" Professor Sprout said indignantly. "It is called unicorn manure, and it is a very efficacious and legitimate fertilizer."

"Sorry," Harry said, his face heating up. He really needed to stop zoning out in Herbology class.

As soon as they had a free period that he knew intersected with Ginny, he tracked her down and cornered her in a hallway. "What would Draco say if he knew you were trying to lure me in for a rendezvous?" she said in a teasing voice.

"It's – it's not like that!"

"Relax, Harry," Ginny said with a laugh. "You're so easy to rile up! Lesbian, remember?" Harry rolled his eyes. "What's going on?"

"Uh…well, it's not…do you think your mum could have done that to the Dursleys? She's good with potions, right? She could probably use Polyjuice to pretend to be Sirius…"

Ginny looked sick to her stomach with the very thought. Harry couldn't blame her. As loathsome and atrocious as Mrs. Weasley was being, there was a big leap between being an awful homophobe and a multiple and child murderer. "Why would she do that?"

"What if she wants to turn me against Sirius?" Harry said, desperation in his voice.

"Turn you against the mass murderer who betrayed your parents?" Ginny said. "Harry, I don't want to belittle you, but…you're not making any sense right now."

Harry groaned. He had entirely forgotten Ginny didn't know anything about Sirius's innocence. He proceeded to recap the adventures of the last year, not leaving out a single detail, not even the detail that Scabbers had been Wormtail. Ginny looked more and horrified the more he explained. When she heard of Scabbers' true identity, she looked outright nauseous.

"He was in my house the whole time," she whispered, her voice trembling, her eyes wide with terror and disgust. "He could have…he could have watched me changing…"

Harry hadn't even thought about that. No wonder she was so creeped out. "Oh, Ginny, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything…"

"No," Ginny said sharply. "I need to know these things, Harry. I need to be informed or I can't help you." She sighed. "I'm sorry…I just…I need some time to process this. A ton of time. Look, about Mum…I just don't see it, sorry. And I think you're making some assumptions. The only witness who lived to tell the tale was a Muggle…a simple Confundus charm could have made her think she saw Sirius instead of the actual murderer."

Harry had never thought of that. He supposed that did make a lot more sense. Unfortunately, it also widened the number of suspects. The murderer could have been someone who just decided to frame Sirius for the sake of covering their tracks. In fact, the murderer could very well have been someone who thought they were helping Harry by killing his abusers. He could see some Boy Who Lived fanatic doing that quite well.

"Anyway, Polyjuice is very difficult to make, I've heard," Ginny went on. "You have to be really, really good at brewing…"

Harry smirked. "Well, you'll have to tell Hermione that, cause she brewed a batch in our second year." Ginny's mouth dropped open. "Be seeing you!"

Harry practically ran away, avoiding Ginny's demands for an explanation, and thus almost ran headfirst into Moody. "Watch it," he snarled, and then his face softened a little when he saw it was Harry. "Ah, Potter. Been meaning to have a chat with you. That was a…unique solution to the task. Didn't tell me about that plan of yours. Good for you. You're learning." Harry couldn't help beaming a little. He didn't like Moody very much, but he did respect him for his skills at fighting Voldemort's forces. "I didn't happen to hear Polyjuice mentioned, did I?" he added casually, clutching his flask a little tighter.

"No, sir," Harry said, trying to keep his face and voice guileless.

Moody smirked a little. "I'm not gonna rat you out, Potter, if that's what you're worried about."

"Well, hypothetically speaking, professor, we might have brewed a batch to find out if Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin second year…"

Moody's face twisted in disgust. "Malfoy. That boy's father is scum of the worst order. Nothing I hate more than a Death Eater who walked, Potter. Nothing at all. You'd best watch out with the Malfoy boy. Oh, I remember the lure of forbidden love." Harry felt a little sick to his stomach at the thought of Moody romancing anyone. "But you can't afford to take risks with the stakes so high!"

"I'll take whatever risks I choose, sir," Harry said coldly. He'd heard enough diatribes about Dad from Snape to be disdainful of people who judged children on the actions off their parents. Draco wasn't the person he once was. Everyone could see it. Even the teachers could see it. Two years ago, Harry would have been the first to agree with Moody, but today, there was nothing but blind prejudice motivating the ex-Auror.

Moody nodded curtly. "Well, if that's all, I suppose I'll just be on my way."

An idea suddenly occurred to Harry and he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before. Everyone said Moody was sharp and smart and a fair man, if utterly ruthless when it came to pursuing his enemies. A man as paranoid as he was could also be trusted with keeping a secret. He could tell Moody about Sirius, try to get some advice about how to exonerate him. Moody knew the ins and outs of the system, right?

"Sir, I have a sensitive matter I need to discuss," Harry said. "It's about Sirius Black. But I need your promise you have to keep this a secret, including from Professor Dumbledore."

Moody looked a lot less surprised at that last provision than Harry had suspected. "Albus's behavior around you has been…erratic to say the least. He may be an old friend of mine, but I'm not all that convinced he's playing with a full deck. All right. I promise."

Moody led Harry over towards his office. About halfway there, Harry spotted Dumbledore observing them from the top of a nearby staircase. He started to descend the staircase, but then appeared to change his mind. Moody grumbled more than average, looking suspiciously at Dumbledore.

"Look, can I be honest with you, son?" Moody said as they walked briskly out of Dumbledore's sight. "I don't trust Albus these days. He's losing his grip on things. Been like that for a while. It started a few years before your parents died." Harry appreciated Moody being so blunt about his parents' deaths. Everyone else seemed to dance around the subject with him. "His tactics changed. He came up with this strict no killing rule. Started preaching incessantly about forgiveness and redemption. Thought we could hug things out. Disgusting. We were going to lose the war…until you came around, that was."

"I didn't do anything. It was my mum."

Moody gave a noncommittal grunt. "Could be. Lily knew things. Three times, she defied the Dark Lord. Three times. Powerfully magical number, three. Not just him. Albus too."

Harry was about to ask for any stories he might have about his mum, but before he could do it, they had arrived at Moody's office. It was filled with bizarre objects he must have acquired from his time with the Aurors. After a discussion about the objects and what they did, Moody started brewing a pot of tea.

"I'd offer you a little something from my flask, but you're too young," Moody said with a twisted grin. Well, more twisted than average, anyway. "Nice cup of tea will do us good, I think."

"Probably for the best," Harry said. He really did not like the idea of drinking; he never had. Vernon was always a loud and violent drunk and had entirely put him off the idea of alcohol himself. "Sir, I have a story to tell you. It may be…really quite unbelievable. And, uh, may implicate us in some technically illegal activities…"

"Did you hurt anyone?" Moody asked immediately. Harry shook his head. "I made a promise to keep this conversation a secret, Potter. I don't break my promises. Ever."

So for the second time that day, Harry explained the story of what had happened last year. Unlike Ginny, Moody didn't give too much of an indication of what he was feeling or thinking. Though, then again, all those scars made it difficult for Harry to read Moody's facial expressions at the best of times.

"What in the hell is Albus playing at?" Moody muttered. "I don't even know where to start. Why go to such circuitous methods to rescue Sirius? If he knew all this, why didn't he do anything with it? Why not go to the press? Or me, for that matter?" He tilted his head. "As Chief Warlock, it's within his rights to demand a trial…so why hasn't he done that? What does he gain by having him on the run?"

That was a very good question. In fact, Harry had been thinking a lot about Dumbledore and the things he'd done recently. Or, more to the point, not done. The more he thought about the events of first year in particular, there were a lot of questions. The protections on the Philosopher's Stone had seemed challenging to them, but in hindsight, they really wouldn't have been an impediment to the average adult mage, much less Voldemort. Why had the Stone even been there in the first place, for that matter? What sort of person put deadly traps in a school?

Dumbledore's behavior this year had been even stranger and unimpressive than ever before. He just sit by and twiddled his thumbs while an underage student was put into a tournament with a death toll. He bragged about sending Harry to the Dursleys. Bragged about it! Mrs. Weasley was being allowed to run amok with her Howlers and he didn't do a thing.

Sirius was one of Dumbledore's foremost allies, yet Dumbledore hadn't gone to anybody with the story of his innocence. Harry wasn't sure Dumbledore really had the power to singlehandedly end the manhunt against him, but surely a man of his influence could get the ball rolling. And his behavior towards Sirius was wildly inconsistent too. Why encourage Harry and Hermione to rescue him if he was going to do absolutely nothing afterwards? What value did Sirius have as a fugitive?

Moody was right. Dumbledore had his own agenda, and it was becoming increasingly clear Harry's best interest wasn't a part of it.

"Ah, I can see the wheels turning inside your head, boy," Moody said with a smug, satisfied expression.

"Don't call me that! Professor."

Moody tilted his head. "Yeah. Sorry, lad. Your uncle called you that?" Harry just gazed at him evenly. "My own dad was a nasty piece of work. Loved his work more than me." He looked Harry straight in the eyes. "We're better than them. You hear me? My father, your uncle, they're weak. We're strong. We had to be."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, unsure how else to respond.

"You should never take things at face value, Harry," Moody went on. Harry could see the wisdom in that. After all, the Dursleys hid their cruelty behind a façade of respectability. Even Voldemort had once looked like an ordinary teenager once. "Always question everyone. Everyone's got an agenda."

"Even you?" Harry said and then immediately regretted being so blunt to his professor.

Moody threw back his head and laughed uproariously. "Especially me!" Harry wasn't entirely sure what was so funny with that statement, but he joined in on the laughter nonetheless. It felt good to laugh. "Look, it's good you came to me with all this. I'll talk to some friends from the service, start feeling people out. I can't promise anything, but I'll try my best."

"Well, that's more than the headmaster has done," Harry said. "Thank you, professor." Moody sat down at the desk and started grading homework. Harry knew that was a sign he was being dismissed. He was halfway to the door when he stopped in his tracks. "Sir, you said you knew my parents?"

Moody tensed, looking panicked for a second. "Look, lad, I'd really rather not talk about that time. I knew your parents from the war. That's not…you don't want to remember them that way."

Harry was disappointed, but an outright refusal was still better, in his opinion, than meaningless platitudes about how he looked just like his father but with his mother's eyes. "I'm sorry, sir. Thank you for your time."

Most people thought it was difficult to sneak out of Hogwarts, let alone to leave the grounds, but most people weren't Slytherins, and they certainly weren't Daphne. She'd spent many happy days exploring the castle when she was supposed to be in class, and found plenty of passageways in and out of the school. From there, it was easy to find the prearranged place where there was a Portkey waiting for her. To most, it looked like an old, discarded shoe. Daphne grabbed onto one of the shoelaces and then, after that horrid sensation of feeling like her body was sucked through a tube, fell onto the floor of a hotel room.

It took her five minutes to make the room stop spinning. When she finally recovered control of her senses, she saw she was in a palatially furnished room with a panoramic view of the Royal Mile of Muggle Edinburgh. Standing in front of her was her father. "Hi, Dad! How's it going?"

"I'm very, very concerned," Dad admitted. "But how are you? Are you all right? Your studies are progressing well? You're not skipping out on classes, are you?"

"Of course not," Daphne lied. In fact, she was skipping Ancient Runes class right this very moment. Dad looked like he saw straight through her lies, which was his default state. It was rare that anyone, much less Dad's own flesh and blood, got anything past the formidable Lord Greengrass. "What's going on?"

"Since my inspection of the school, I've launched a full investigation into Albus Dumbledore," Dad explained without preamble. Some parents would have spared their children from learning of their business, but Dad had always treated Daphne as an equal partner, which was one of the many reasons Daphne loved him so much. "What I've found is distressing and puzzling in equal measure."

Dad explained that Dumbledore's activities seemed contradictory and illogical at first glance, to say nothing of highly opaque. He maneuvered in favor of legislation publicly and privately pulled strings to make sure it never passed, and vice versa. His actions resulted in both a slew of victories and defeats for all sides. In particular, he was instrumental in making sure the Imperius excuse of the Death Eaters was accepted, surreptitiously backed laws putting restrictions on creatures such as werewolves, and blocked all attempts at reform. His actions caused Dad no small manner of confusion at first, before he realized the commonality behind everything.

Everything that Dumbledore had been accomplishing in the last fifteen years had been to weaken the Statute of Secrecy. Dad had no idea why, but it was undeniable when you looked at it from that lens.

His actions as headmaster were even more concerning than his actions as Chief Warlock. First and very significantly, there was Snape. While Daphne actually liked Snape – it was hard not to like one of the few people who remembered her existence on a semiregular basis – she had to admit that he was a terrible teacher for three quarters of the school. Dumbledore had been ignoring all complaints against him, even when they piled up. That was not a metaphor; there were huge stacks of them in the Hogwarts archives.

Snape's behavior towards the Slytherins hadn't done them any favors in the long run either. His refusal to punish Slytherins had given them a sense of entitlement that manifested in cruelty and hatred. They developed a victim complex where they thought they were the targets of the rest of the school, conveniently ignoring the fact they started the fights four out of five times. He let them run absolutely amok. The traditional Slytherin virtues of cunning and subtlety seemed to be thrown out the window. Slytherin had become a house of bullies, braggarts, and idiots.

Dumbledore's approach to discipline took turn the other cheek to the extreme. The victim was invariably punished over the perpetrator. Anyone who fought back got a lecture that they were "turning dark" and given a lecture on the value of forgiveness and second chances. Slytherins quickly learned they could get away with anything and everything.

And when they graduated, they gravitated towards blood supremacist ideology. They grew closer to reassembling the Death Eaters. They hastened the return of You Know Who. Their arrogance, their hatred of Muggles, the permissive way Dumbledore had treated them, it all led them to strike against Muggles, and thus weaken the Statute.

"But I'm still no closer to figuring out why he wants to weaken the Statute," Dad admitted. "I did some digging into his past. There's not a lot of information, but I do know his father went to jail for assaulting some Muggle teenagers. And we're running out of time. I've been dodging assassination attempts ever since the inspection. Daphne, I…I'm not sure I'll even make it to the meeting."

"Just run," Daphne begged him. "Move to America or somewhere! You don't owe anyone anything. We can change our name, change our appearances…"

Dad shook his head. Daphne groaned. "I am not a coward. When I commit to something, I do not run."

"Astoria is at his mercy!" Daphne argued and she could sense Dad's resolve cracking at that statement. "Look, Dad, it's a lot worse than you think. I didn't tell you because, well, it sounds crazy, but…"

She proceeded to explain the investigation she and Luna had been conducting. She told him about the mass Obliviation, about the geases Dumbledore had been placing on the student body, about Luna's theory Dumbledore had been siphoning power from the school. "Dumbledore is not just your ordinary, run of the mill criminal! He's…he's the new Dark Lord! And no one even knows it!"

Dad stared at her with horror dancing in his eyes. "Oh, Merlin. This is…this is…you're right. Something needs to be done. Which is why it's all the more important I stand and fight." Was he just ignoring her points on purpose now? "This is beyond the Board of Governors. It's time I made a full commission of inquiry in the Folkmoot regarding Dumbledore's activities. If I make enough waves, he'll find it very inconvenient to disappear me."

"Just be very careful, dad," Daphne begged. "I don't want to lose you. You're one of the only people who understands me. Who knows me for who I am."

"I'd do anything to fix that, little flower," Dad promised. "I'm doing everything I can to cure your curse. I'd give up my very life to do it."

Daphne hugged her father. Dad looked surprised. Daphne was not the world's most touchy feely person, despite her seemingly boundless enthusiasm. "I love you so much, dad."

Dad kissed her forehead. "Love you too, Daphne."

They talked about Daphne's studies and Dad's business and other more inconsequential things for the better part of an hour, but Dad eventually decided to send her back, paranoid someone would have noticed her absence. Never mind the fact no one could notice her absence. But then again, Daphne would be unreasonably paranoid too if Dumbledore was gunning for her.

Daphne was halfway through the tunnel leading back into Hogwarts when a pillar of fire appeared in front of her and Dumbledore stepped out of it. Daphne's wand was against her head and the first syllable of the Killing Curse was out of her mouth – like fuck was she going to let Dumbledore get his hooks into her mind – before Dumbledore hit her with a wandless Disarming Charm.

"Hello, Daphne," he said in that grandfatherly tone that sent a shiver down her spine. Daphne couldn't help but let out a gasp. He remembered her! How?! "You've been a very naughty girl recently, haven't you? I think it's time we had a chat."

Luna really wasn't sure how much more blatant she could be when it came to flirting with Ginny. She'd tried every trick in her arsenal, but thus far, everything had absolutely sailed over the beautiful redhead's head. It was almost enough to make her give up, but if there was one thing that defined Luna, it was her willingness to go up against impossible odds. The odds of her finding, well, any of the creatures the Quibbler wrote about were infinitesimal, yet she and her father still pursued them. Luna never believed in the impossible. Magic was the antonym of impossibility.

Still, it was frustrating when her compliments just washed right over her crush, when her increasingly flirtatious body language was met with polite confusion. Maybe she should be more obvious? Maybe she should just flat out ask Ginny on a date? But what if that approach was too abrupt and would scare Ginny away? The last thing she wanted was to cause Ginny any sort of distress in any way whatsoever. The poor girl had already been through more than enough in her time.

Luna decided that what she needed was a distraction. Between unveiling the conspiracy centering around Dumbledore and trying to gain her crush's attention, she'd been so stressed recently. Maybe it was a good idea for her to take a step backwards and find another activity for her to do. So she tracked down Harry one day after classes. It was time for her to right a wrong she'd indirectly caused.

"I'm sorry about that article Rita wrote," Luna said. "It was mean of her to do that. It's not how a proper journalist acts. I should know. My daddy runs the Quibbler."

Harry shrugged, looking completely resigned. "I should have known I couldn't have a moment's rest for a second, shouldn't I?"

"Well, it's partly my fault," Luna confessed. "I was the one who told her there were…irregularities in your past to begin with. Well, me and my friend Daphne."

"Who?"

"Never mind," Luna said irritably. She must have been really out of it if she was slipping up and mentioning Daphne in casual conversations. She had long ago learned never to do that. It invariably complicated every single situation with no benefit whatsoever. "I didn't send her after your relatives, but I'm still sorry for talking to her about you without your consent."

Harry looked nonplussed. Apologies must have been really rare to him. That was sad. "It's no big deal," he said. "You meant well. It's not your fault Rita's an asshole." He looked guilty for a second, no doubt that silly Gryffindor chivalry rearing its head at having sworn in front of a lady.

"I want to make up for it," Luna said earnestly. "I want to interview you for the Quibbler. Get your perspective on everything. The full, unvarnished truth. No editorializing, just cold hard facts. There's more you haven't said in those articles."

Harry sighed deeply. "I don't know, Luna. I really don't want to act like a celebrity. I'm just me…"

"Well, whether you like it or not, just you has influence, fame, and power," Luna said, a trifle harder than she'd intended. "If you use it effectively, you can do good for people. You need to own your story, Harry, or other people are going to take it from you."

"Yeah, but the Quibbler isn't…uh, how do I put this…"

Luna was not blind or stupid. She knew very well the Quibbler was prone to publishing rather silly things, wild conspiracy theories and the like. But it wasn't quite as simple as just truth or lies. Luna believed the purpose of the Quibbler was to change people's perspectives. Magic was a beautiful thing, but people took it for granted after a while. She saw it in her peers all the time. The wonder dissipated. Magic was not given to humanity so it could become a tool. It was meant for so much more than that. Mages were meant for more than that. The Quibbler was meant to broaden people's horizons, to make them ask what if, to enhance their imaginations. Mere truth was secondary to that noble cause.

"Harry, do you want your story to be told by Rita or by someone you trust?" Luna said. "As much as you may not believe in the things we write about, everything we write about you will be the pure, unvarnished truth. I promise. Tell me everything. People need to understand you're a person. Right now, the reason why people's opinion of you shifts constantly is because they don't know the real you and so they just fill up that hole with whatever suits them. Show them the real you."

Harry was silent for a couple of moments. Luna could definitely understand why he was so reluctant. The last journalist he'd tried to give his trust to had ended up betraying it in a horribly cruel manner that had, very indirectly, led to several deaths. But deep down, he must have known Luna was no Rita Skeeter. "I want to read the article before you publish it," he said eventually.

"Certainly," Luna said. "I don't see why not. Honestly, Rita is a bit of an idiot. In the long run, it was a stupid decision to make you an enemy."

"Okay, let's just do this before I change my mind," Harry decided. "I can take you down to the Chamber of Secrets…"

Luna shook her head firmly. "I have no desire to see the place where my friend was so deeply traumatized, Harry."

Harry looked embarrassed. "Oh…I'm sorry…"

"I'll take you over to the Ravenclaw common room," Luna suggested. "It's not unusual to have people there from different houses. I have a friend from Slytherin who's there all the time."

Luna led Harry over to the common room. He looked impressed that Luna was able to guess the riddle straight away. Luna didn't really understand what the big deal was. It wasn't as if it was a hard riddle. Besides, the door knocker only really had about a hundred or so preset riddles. By the time you were in third year, you'd heard most of them already. In fact, there was a book in the Ravenclaw library with the riddles and their answers all listed.

Luna's reputation for being weird and strange may not have been useful to her most of the time, but it was definitely helpful in getting people to avoid her. Thus, it wasn't very difficult to get them some privacy when she started doing a bit about Blibbering Humdingers. Honestly, did her housemates have any brains in their head? Everyone knew Blibbering Humdingers had been extinct since the nineteenth century. It was no wonder she spent most of her time with people from other houses. Most Ravenclaws were just too close minded to understand the essential mysteries of magic.

"Tell me everything you can think of that you think people need to know to understand you, Harry," Luna urged him. "I want people to know you, not some manufactured hero like in those bloody Henry Porter books."

"Well, as long as I can remember – hang on, the Henry Porter books are based off of me?"

Luna tilted her head. "Uh, yeah? I would think it's kind of obvious."

"But I love those books!" Harry said, his jaw practically on the floor. "They're amazing! They really helped me get through some tough times. Whenever things at the Dursleys got too rough, I could imagine I was Henry, fighting against evil monsters, having guardians who loved me, and being happy." Luna had never thought of it that way before.

"We're getting distracted," Luna pointed out. "And I say that as an expert in the subject. If you're not comfortable doing it right now, just say it. I did sort of drag you into this."

A smirk formed on Harry's face. Luna had a sudden premonition something was about to happen in her life, though whether it was good or bad, she could not say. She would hardly classify herself as seer by any means, but she'd found her intuition was a fair bit sharper than most. "I'll do the interview now, if you do a little something for me in exchange."

"Oh my, it would seem that having a Slytherin boyfriend is rubbing off on you!" Luna joked.

"Draco's not my boyfriend yet," Harry said, his eyes shining bright with mischief. "But he will be. Anyway, I nearly got put in Slytherin. But thanks to, ironically, Draco, I chose Gryffindor instead. A little something to wet your whistle. Anyway, I want you to do something, and you'll quite like it. I want you to ask Ginny out."

Luna was sure she had misheard him. "Pardon?"

"I'm just getting sick of all the pining," Harry complained. "It's bad enough to have to listen to Ron and Hermione circle around their feelings for each other, but having Ginny complain about how she's sure you'll never notice her is just…it's just the last straw, Luna. You do like her? I'm not wrong about that? Cause if I'm wrong, then we can just forget the whole thing."

"No!" Luna shouted so loud some people gave her strange looks. Well, stranger than average. "Absolutely not. It's just…I don't understand it. I thought I've been flirting with her."

"Maybe Luna flirting and Ginny flirting aren't the same thing?" Harry suggested. "Everyone tells me how confusing girls are…maybe they find each other just as confusing?" He winced. "Please don't tell Hermione I said that. I'll never hear the end of it."

Luna giggled. "She really likes me?"

"She's absolutely mad about you," Harry said and Luna let out a squeal of excitement. "You didn't hear this from me! If she finds out, I'm a dead man!"

"You seem to have quite the problem with homicidal girls, Harry," Luna joked. "Perhaps that's why you decided to get a boyfriend instead. Are Ginny and Hermione scarier than a dragon?" Harry nodded, looking absolutely sincere and serious. Yeah. That tracked. "All right, I agree. As soon as this interview is over, I'll ask her out. Let's get started."

The tale of Harry Potter turned out to be a long one. Luna took extremely careful notes on absolutely everything; she'd sort through the minutiae later. In her opinion, Harry just spent way too much time focusing on inconsequential details, like the things he bought in Diagon Alley. He was not the world's best storyteller. But Luna managed to corral him towards the relevant topics and slowly but surely, a picture formed. It was not a flattering picture to say the least, especially for Dumbledore. Maybe she had a mind that was naturally predisposed towards conspiracy theories, but it seemed more than a trifle suspicious that only the only person who could figure out that a basilisk was petrifying people was a second year student. And that was just one example.

Luna was amazed, truly amazed, he'd survived all those things. Dementors, a basilisk, Quirrell, a troll, his awful relatives…Harry should have been dead dozens of times over. Luna would have definitely died. She was absolutely certain about that. "You are…so brave to face all this," Luna said eventually when they'd finally finished talking. "I think the hat put you in the right house. I really do. All right, I'll take this to my dad and see what he has to say. Thank you for doing this, Harry. It's the right thing to do. It really is."

The article was going to be a real hit. The Quibbler would probably shatter records. The real story of the Boy Who Lived, the real Harry Potter. Not a mythic hero, not a mundane person, but both an extraordinary defender of innocents and a very real person with real problems, insecurities, and issues. It would be leaps and bounds above the sensationalism Rita had resorted to. Luna would fight to the death to make sure of it if need be.

She stood up and then an idea occurred to her. "Harry, would it offend you terribly if the slant of the article was…not favorable towards Dumbledore? You see, I think it's a golden opportunity to lure the enemy out of hiding." Harry didn't look like he understood. "Someone put your name in that cup." They had both agreed to not contradict Harry's story of doing it himself in the article. "A Death Eater most likely. If they think you're an enemy of Dumbledore…maybe they'll reach out…"

Harry shrugged. "Look, I'm not happy with the old man these days. You want to take him down a peg, go right ahead, as long as you don't lie about it."

"There's certainly no need to do that," Luna said darkly. "Well…thanks for this, Harry. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a certain redhead to track down."

Ginny was harder to track down than Luna had expected. If only she had thought to ask Harry to look up her location on the Marauder's Map. Though that was probably stalkerish now that Luna thought about it. After what felt like an eternity of searching, she found her in the greenhouse. She just looked so gorgeous in the sunlight, more a beautiful work of art than anything that one would suspect seeing on a mortal girl. Was this how her ancestor had felt around the fae they'd bonded with?

"Hi, Luna," Ginny said with a smile that lit up the room entirely. "Everything okay?"

Luna tried to construct a smooth, heavily flirtatious opening line that could leave absolutely no doubt of her intentions. Instead, the words "Would you like to be my girlfriend?" slipped out of her mouth. She felt her cheeks heating up with mortification.

"No!" Ginny snapped, looking almost betrayed. Luna took a step backwards, her heart thudding wildly in her chest and tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Oh, now she'd really messed things up! She'd ruined a perfectly good friendship! "I'm not going to be someone you'll settle for, Luna. I've tried to be gentle, I've tried to ignore your passes, but I know you're just asking me out because you can't have Hermione."

Luna blinked repeatedly. "What the hell does Hermione have to do with anything? Hermione doesn't even like girls!"

"You told me…that afternoon in the Muggle Studies room…you were looking for someone incredibly smart and brave and loyal and that's…that's not me," Ginny said, looking like she was about to break into tears.

Oh, for pity's sake. They'd nearly doomed each other to heartbreak because of a misunderstanding? Because of Ginny's lack of self-confidence? "Ginny, I do not have a crush on Hermione," Luna said bluntly. "I have a crush on you."

"You…I…what? I don't understand."

Luna gave a slight smile. "Wrackspurts got your tongue, I see. Oh, Ginny…I should have talked all this out with you a long time ago. But you're so wrong about who you are. You're smart and loyal and brave and pretty and so much more." She stroked the side of Ginny's face with her hand. Ginny looked at her in awe. "I like you a lot. You're letting your mum's words and your dark thoughts get to you. I won't let that happen anymore."

Ginny pinched her arm to see if she was dreaming. She looked even more shocked when she realized she wasn't. "I…I really like you too, Luna. And I'd really like to be your girlfriend."

"Hooray!" Luna said, jumping up and down with excitement. "Now, let me show you a foolproof way to rid yourself of wrackspurts." She leaned in and planted a kiss on Ginny's lips. They were so soft. "Did that work?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure. Maybe you should do it again just to be sure."

"I think that could be arranged."