Sirius,

I have reason to suspect a dementor attack in a few days. I need your help, and your advice. Bring every relevant book from the Black Library as soon as you can.

— Harry

PS — I'm assuming Dumbledore granted you access to my home. If not, read the bit of parchment attached to this letter, not out loud. If you're able, come soon.

For at least three minutes after she arrived at his home, Luna held Harry in a tight embrace. She kissed him softly, meaningfully, and then pulled away. Harry decided immediately to send for Sirius, whose first-hand experience with dementors was unparalleled, and who had access to one of the most significant magical libraries in Britain, perhaps the most significant library as far as dark magical texts were concerned.

After sending Hedwig away with a note to his godfather, Harry led Luna, fingers laced, back downstairs to the dining table piled high with fresh-sliced, crusty bread, a platter of aged cheeses and olives, bowls of olive oil with coarse ground spices, and smashed avocado.

Harry asked Luna dozens of questions about her vision. He asked her to describe the alley, pressed her for as many details as her strained memory could recall. He asked her about his shouts, whether she could recall the movement of his lips and perhaps piece together some comprehension of why he'd be in an alleyway in Little Whinging in the first place. He asked her about the dementors — how they moved, from what direction they closed in on him and their location relative to his. After exhausting every potentially relevant question, he started over, and again asked her to describe the alleyway in meticulous detail.

As soon as they'd had their fill, Luna led Harry to the library, and for an hour they pulled every volume on dark creatures, defense against dark magic, and any historical works that might touch on the unsteady relationship between dementors and the wizarding community.

They acquired a dozen leather and cloth-bound volumes and carried them to the reading nook in Harry's loft. Just as Harry set these upon the side table, a ghostly pale barn owl that he'd never seen arrived, alighting on Hedwig's perch just inside the broad window behind them. Harry was greeted with a few polite bobs as he untied the leather strap holding a note just above his right talons.

Harry,

I cannot express the relief I felt when I received your letter. I'm ever in your debt, Harry, for so quickly forgiving what I fear is a terrible lapse in judgment.

Yes. Dumbledore is brilliant. But I agree, we've followed him blindly. I suspect even he would recommend we think for ourselves a bit more than we have. When I picture his contrition, I find myself stunned, and I want to hear the full account.

Luna? I think I may know of her in a distant sort of way. I'm so happy to hear that you're happy, and I can't wait to meet her.

I can, indeed, visit whenever I wish, as I've convinced my parents that it's the only way you'll truly forgive me.

Send me the address and I'll be there at the next available moment.

Thank you, Harry, for being such a friend.

— Hermione

PS — This is Newton. He's a barn owl from Maine — a gift from my parents, and a not-so-subtle suggestion that I keep in touch throughout the school year. He's quite friendly; I hope he and Hedwig might become friends.

Hermione,

Something's come up, and we need your mind. Come as soon as possible.

Harry

PS — Take the bit of parchment attached to this letter to No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Then unroll the parchment and read it, not out loud.

Harry scratched the note to Hermione as soon as he'd read his reply.

"Newton, hm?" Harry nuzzled the barn owl affectionately. "I think we'll be seeing a lot of each other. Unfortunately I've just sent Hedwig off, but you'll see eachother soon enough."

He tied the folded parchment loosely, just above his left talon, and sent him off.

They headed back downstairs to tend to the cauldron full of Intelligentia Concentrata, which was ready for final preparations.

As they entered the potions lab, they were met by the strong fragrance of freshly clipped rosemary. The cauldron boiled softly, whispers in an indiscernible language seemed to rise from the bubbles as they burst. Where a void had been, a soft silver haze was developing.

Luna readied the tufts of Knotgrass, which Harry added every twenty minutes. While they waited, they read aloud relevant portions of two volumes they had found, Dangerous and Dark Creatures in Luna's hands, and Azkaban: A History in Harry's.

By mid afternoon, the silver haze had adopted a bright sheen, shining a distant light in tempestuous patterns upon their faces.

They filled sixteen small glass vials with the mixture. As they did so, a narrow cabinet of carved woodwork materialized at shoulder height above the workstation. Opening it, Harry found a half dozen empty shelves, the top left of which was labeled with a copper plate, "Intelligentia Concentrata."

They proceeded to the reading nook in Harry's loft. A few moments after he sat beside the short pile of books, a patronus in the shape of a large black dog rushed through the broad window. It sat before them and spoke, and they heard the voice of Sirius Black.

"Harry. I've received your note. I'm quite concerned about this, and I'll do all I can to help. I've around a half dozen relevant books from the library at Grimmauld Place, none of which are unique and most of which you'll likely have copies of. The most important and rare works are housed in Black Manor. If I remember correctly, there's also a magical artifact there that you'll find indispensable. I'm going there now. Expect me first thing tomorrow morning. And Harry? Stay put until then."

At this, the Patronus dissolved into a cloud of bright silvery white mist.

It was late afternoon. Luna leaned into Harry's chest and shoulder, her legs curled beside her on the mid-century leather sofa. She absentmindedly traced the inside seam of Harry's jeans with the trailing fingertips of her left hand. With her right hand she held open a cloth-bound book entitled Magical Theory and the Emotional Realm, carefully skimming the yellowed pages with furrowed brow. She had just finished scanning Dangerous and Dark Creatures, marking with bits of spare parchment the relevant chapters.

Harry, too, had set aside the book he'd been reading, Azkaban: A History, in favor of a parallel work on the contractual relationships between the Ministry of Magic and magical races, entitled, Perilous Alliances: Magical Race Relations.

Just as Harry began to read what felt like an important passage to Luna, they heard a knock at the door of Harry's home.

Hermoine stood before the cunningly etched front door of No. 4 1/2 Privet Drive, stunned at the display of magic that had just unfolded before her eyes.

She'd heard of expansion charms, pocket dynamics, and fidelius protections. But the cunning orchestration of these, the interplay of disparate spells that culminated in the impossible existence of Harry's new home struck her silent.

This was Dumbledore's work. It had to be.

She took in the hedges, the stone path, the wide, tall windows, the white painted brick, the pavement that had unfolded from thin air. She smiled broadly, aware of the pulsing magic behind it all.

Suddenly she realized that she'd never announced herself. She knocked three times, and waited with a polite smile.

The door opened and there was Harry, smiling broadly in a white tee that fit perfectly, in a pair of blue jeans without holes or stains. Hermoine appreciated at once the distinction between this Harry and the one who greeted her every Autumn on the Hogwarts Express.

"Harry!" She rushed in and hugged him tightly. Pulling away, she laughed happily, "Your home is amazing!"

"I wholeheartedly agree." Harry replied with a wide grin. "How are you, Hermione?"

Just then, Luna Lovegood approached with a kind smile, lacing her fingers through Harry's right hand, and leaning her form into his. The intimacy they shared wasn't something Hermione had expected.

Hermione recognized Luna vaguely — a third year Ravenclaw, if memory served. Yet she'd never given her much attention, and she was immediately struck by her piercing silver-grey eyes, her full-bodied dirty-blonde hair done up loosely in a twist, her confident presence and striking figure. She noticed immediately that Luna was beautiful, and she supposed her beauty had been obscured by the inter-house rumors of missing shoes and radish earrings.

Hermione smiled nicely, extending her hand. "Hi. I'm Hermione Granger."

Luna immediately let go of Harry's hand and threw her arms around Hermoine's neck, pulling her into a friendly embrace. "Thank you, Hermione Granger. You're a lovely friend, and Harry's told me so much, and I couldn't be more excited to meet you."