Her clumsy steps echoed off the walls as Luna followed the sylph's instructions. Laima knew where the Headmaster's office was. To her, Hogwarts wasn't a castle of secrets.

The mighty statue that adorned the entrance – a griffin whose curved wings almost looked as if they were trying to protect someone, while the beast itself rested on a pedestal – seemed to look down on her. A little magical, yet headstrong enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Luna couldn't help but put a hand to the stone; stroking the non-existent feathers.

"What's next?" Her soft voice seemed to be swallowed by the entrance, the hollow of that statue, before Laima whispered a few unintelligible words. Luna couldn't hear them, but she believed they possessed a sweet sound. A bit like candy.

The sylph's words shook the rock as the figure spun with a rubbing touch. Instantly the witch's eyes detached from the bird, scrutinising this tiny space, giving her a new understanding. It wasn't the griffin that was spinning. The small, round area around the creature was moving, similar to a magical lift that had more beauty than what her father had told her about the Ministry. It worked brilliantly to shake Wrackspurts out of thoughts and get ready for a wondrous day. Dumbledore had to value things like this.

Restlessly, the witch stepped from one leg to the other until, this time, she felt a renewed shaking run through her body as well. The rise slowed, the corridor of the castle was already far behind her and Luna dared a glance downwards that gave her no new magical insight. So she turned her attention upwards while Laima disappeared into her cloak.

The scent of old books hit her even before she reached the top and when the lift stopped, a knowable, magical world lay before her. Books piled up on shelves, the Sorting Hat had found its place at the top and artefacts shimmered from various corners. Two curved staircases led up a little further and the ornate pilasters looked almost older than the castle itself.

Tension danced across the Ravenclaw's skin, spurring the tingling inside that could be nothing but magic. In those seconds, she breathed another's magic; so surreal and yet somehow real.

The massive desk that had found a place at the back centre was deserted. Still, there was a bowl of liquorice snaps, while rolls of parchment were stacked next to quills and stamps.

"Ah, Luna Lovegood." The sudden voice behind her made the witch turn instantly. Dumbledore detached himself completely unnoticed from one of the shelves, his books matching his golden brown robes. She hadn't noticed him at all. "Do you like it here?"

"It's very varied," she returned as she folded her hands in front of her lap and waited.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I called you here." With slightly wavering steps, he slipped silently past her. Almost as if he were floating when he was nothing but old. Only when he had half-circled his desk did he stop and point to the bowl of liquorice snaps. "Would you like some?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you."

He took her rejection with a smile – one that could barely be seen under his thick beard – and then settled down in his chair. A sample whose thick leather was already sat out and probably had as many years behind it as the professor himself.

"It has come to my attention you are on a quest," Dumbledore then began. "Do you think you will find what your heart longs for?"

She simply looked at him at that moment. The goal was there; she had started, and the quest was simple. But what interested Luna much more was how Dumbledore knew about the search. Not answering him, however, would have been rude, so she tried to piece it all together somehow. "I have faith that I can find it. Don't you just have to search long enough?"

"That's a very simple view." Slowly, her counterpart folded his hands on the table. "And perhaps that is even the best."

"You know about the search, Professor?"

"Very well, in fact," he returned. "Long, long ago I watched witches and wizards set out to make the wildest ideas come true. But no one ever reached the end of the journey. Sometimes I was a shadow. A helper." He sighed. "And sometimes I was just a spectator. The last seekers left a few years ago. They were like you, Luna, students of Hogwarts. But none of them made it to the end."

"Did they give up because it's a long search?" She tilted her head.

"They broke the rules," Dumbledore replied. "And some of them lost to the guardians' trickery. You must never think the quest is harmless."

The words were dry on her lips, but somewhere between the guardians she had met, it was believable. Laima had always claimed the quest was harmless; at least as long as you followed the rules. Breaking the rules made it dangerous.

"Do you know what the most important thing on a journey is, Luna?" Dumbledore coaxed her out of her brief train of thought as his words ate at her attention like friendly winds.

For a moment, the Ravenclaw pursed her lips. Journeys were usually long, and there was an infinite amount to discover. But they were also lonely. When you couldn't share what you'd experienced with anyone, it was almost a little sad.

"Friends?" Her answer was tantamount to a breath.

"Friends," Dumbledore ultimately confirmed. "On a long journey, there is nothing more important than companions and allies who are on your side. And," he took one of the liquorice snaps, "something sweet for the nerves."

With a soft smile, Luna watched as he placed the candy in his mouth and, within that brief span, seemed almost like a boy her age. The seconds made her drift off to pudding for a moment. Would they have any of it left in the kitchen?

"I take it you've heard about the curse on Hogwarts as well?" Without further ado, Dumbledore closed the search and turned his attention to the rumour that was flitting through the walls. Of course, it hadn't escaped his notice.

So she nodded, curiosity piqued.

"Thought so." More tense than before, Dumbledore stood up. "I know there is a spell to prevent forgetting. The diligence of the students is remarkable. Though I hope daily that they won't continue to concern themselves with it." His face suddenly looked older than before. "Luna, refrain from roaming the corridors at night. The shadows aren't satisfied yet."

"Why don't you tell that to all the students?" Nothing about her counterpart seemed dangerous. He just wanted to talk, to provide a brief explanation that might then make him sleep better at night. "You don't have to make anyone forget."

"If only it were that simple, Luna. If I don't make the students forget, they'll panic and they'll shut this school down." One of his hands ran over his long beard. "That could be fixed, of course, but everything in this world happens for a reason. And for a reason, I can't have this school closed. Instead, I'm looking for answers."

"You are also searching, Professor?"

"Yes, and equally no." He raised a finger. "I'm just looking for answers, not a miracle."

"But you've been searching for a long time and students disappear."

"They don't really disappear," Dumbledore returned wearily. "They're just unrecognisable at first glance."

"Is that a metaphor?" His words confused her.

"It's the truth." He turned away. "If I remember correctly, you have another meeting with Miss MacDougal. She's a good girl." He gave her one last smile, but remained silent after that, and Dumbledore didn't have to say it to make his point.

Morag would make a good companion for the journey.

SEEK ME!

Dumbledore had let her go without further addressing the questions that stood between them. A little as if she should make up her own mind before his words made any sense.

The few students who met her in the corridors either followed the path to the common rooms or sought the Great Hall, where there was at least a little entertainment in magical chess. Few lingered outside, where the Whomping Willow was devoid of leaves and the cold tugged at most students' coats.

Luna, on the other hand, followed the endless steps up into the bell tower, where it wasn't much warmer than outside, but where at least someone was waiting for her. Morag had swung herself onto a windowsill and was flicking through a magazine about fashion – visually a specimen from the Muggle world.

"Is it very different to ours?" Luna drew attention to herself with the first question in her mind and Morag was slow to lift her head from one of the articles before she cracked a grin.

"A little." She flipped the magazine closed. "Do you ever read Muggle things?"

The Ravenclaw shook her head. "My father only has books of magic in the house. The non-magical people arouse little curiosity in him."

"Would you like me to bring you a book sometime?" A brow of Morag's rose. It was a friendly question that Luna only answered with a nod, sure that there had to be magic even in the simple craft of non-magical people. "What would you like it to be? What would you like to read?"

It was a simple question, and at the same time, it seemed complicated. Luna wanted something magical and yet she wanted to get a little closer to the world – outside of the detached things that sometimes happened around her. She wanted to get to know the outside part of all this.

"An adventure," the Ravenclaw finally replied. "I'd love to have an adventure."

"I'll keep that in mind!" With a leap, Morag jumped from the windowsill and put the magazine aside. "But enough of that. We should deal with the spell." She drew out her wand. "It's actually quite simple."

Eyes fixed firmly on the wand, Luna watched as the witch guided it up through the air once, then drew the infinity sign, tapping the tip against her forehead once. The spell "Noli Oblivisci" followed immediately.

Soft green light gushed from the wand and attached itself to Morag's body. A bit like a sack that seemed to protect her shapelessly. The shimmer tightened, ultimately wrapping itself around the witch like a second skin, and then, all at once, became invisible to the naked eye.

"The spell lasts for about three hours and dissipates immediately after it has repelled the Memory Charm. So, should Dumbledore cast the spell twice in a row, we are all doomed." Without further ado, Morag shrugged. "Give it a try. The only thing that can go wrong is you setting your hair on fire."

Mistakes weren't a problem. They happened. Luna had seen that with her mother and it was okay if something didn't work. Even if the consequences might be fatal.

Probably that was the not-so-magical side of magic.

Nevertheless, the Ravenclaw picked up her wand and swept it through the air in exactly the same smooth motion as Morag had done. Then the words followed, and she waited. Half an eternity before Morag nodded and sighed.

"You have talent, but you definitely need to practise this. The protection charm works for very few people straight away the first time. It helps a little if you remember you want to keep your memories with all your might. Maybe that's the trigger. No one has really understood that part yet."

So Luna tried again.

And failed.

Hardly any memory made it seem like it was made to last forever. She didn't want to forget her mother, but she would have liked to push death away sometimes. She didn't want to have to miss her father, but some days he was so busy with work that it didn't matter if she knew his name or not. Hogwarts had only been a part of her life for a short time and she hadn't experienced anything that seemed important enough to want to keep for a lifetime. She knew her name, but it was just that – a name.

No matter how many times she waved her wand, the result remained icy emptiness.

And that was somehow, almost, an insignificant bit sad.

By the time she lowered the wand and giving up seemed like the last option, the sun had already set and fatigue gnawed at her mind. Too many thoughts, too many strange questions she couldn't answer yet. Looking for something could be exhausting, and yet it was kind of fun. At least it didn't get boring, and that made the Wrackspurts – nothing more than little ghosts overrunning thoughts – wait in their hiding places between the walls of the school.

"It'll be fine." Morag, who had slid back onto the windowsill somewhere between all the attempts, gave her a confident smile before combing her long ponytail with one hand. "It took me forever, too. But eventually it comes naturally. Once you get the hang of it, it's really easy."

Wordlessly, Luna tucked the wand back into the cloak. There was nothing she could do, so she had to wait for things to fall into place. It matched the words her father sometimes uttered when he couldn't find a new beginning worth criticising. "Some things come up if you just wait," he would often say, and days later, he usually did indeed find the answer. Luna had until the next summer holidays. Dumbledore wouldn't cast his spell before then.

"Shall we go back?" Examining, Morag glanced out the window. "We may have missed dinner. But I can take you to the common room and then get us something from the kitchen. I'm pretty good at it and I've never been caught." She put on a big grin before stretching and strolling past Luna in slow steps. "Unless you're not hungry."

"I am," the witch returned, each word so soft it didn't match the cold in the tower.

Morag acknowledged it with a nod before gesturing for Luna to follow. A request that Luna complied with.

It wasn't far to the common room and this time it was her companion who solved the riddle without thinking for a moment. Morag clearly had something of an older student who knew how to solve problems in her own way, in addition to small adventures. Luna couldn't help but classify her housemate under smart before settling into a chair in the common room.

A few other Ravenclaw found themselves in the room as well, bent low over books or engrossed in homework. Some of them looked tired, others a bit distressed, and although she would have liked to help, it would have been rude to interfere with the hard work of others. So Luna stayed behind silently while Morag made her way to the kitchen.

Her gaze slid over the endless books on the shelves, all of which were so horribly thick that the Ravenclaw could hardly muster any enthusiasm for them. She had always leafed through her father's magic and history books at home and had eventually switched to pretty magazines. Sometimes she even laid her hands on a novel written by a wizard, but she had found very few of them good. Some just bragged. There was magic everywhere, and in very few cases, there seemed to be real hurdles.

The tension was missing.

It seemed the magicians hardly read novels because magic and history were much more important. But even simple inventions could teach someone something, you just had to read carefully enough.

Nevertheless, Luna rose and fished one of the books from the shelf that looked halfway interesting. It was thinner than most of the others and the contents were about magical beasts and their care – precise details about how rare creatures had to be treated.

One of the subjects she really loved.

Animals were fabulous and magical beasts existed in such great variety that it was almost impossible to list them all. Luna was fascinated by them and one day, she knew, she would add a few more of them to the world.

The pictures in the book had been drawn with magical ink, breathing life into the creatures. Dragons snorted dark clouds. Griffins rose into the air, causing the letters to dodge, and a basilisk snaked across the page. The book seemed to contain everything, and yet only a certain fraction of majestic creatures that couldn't quite be classified as pets.

"Luna." With a whisper, Laima drew attention to herself, peering barely noticeably out of the cloak and raising her brows. "I thought I'd take advantage of the time you're spending with Morag and make myself useful." Briefly, she looked around. "It would be wiser if a place can be found where we can stow the objects without anyone coming into contact with them. Especially since I don't think you can half-decently hide over fifty objects from Piper. That lunatic has it in for you."

"She's not a lunatic," Luna retorted. "We don't know her yet."

"And I'd be happy to keep it that way," the sylph snorted. "Just today you were talking to Ginny Weasley again. I hadn't wiped her memory for nothing. Do you want to involve her in the search?" She shook her head. "And then Dumbledore as well. Yes, you can talk to shadows about the quest without facing consequences, but that doesn't mean you should do exactly that."

The quest wasn't without danger, Dumbledore had told her that too and although Luna knew how to categorise the least of it, there was at least a safety in it all. As long as the rules were followed, all was well. She could solve everything else when the time came.

Besides, Ginny wasn't the only one she could get along with. She was merely someone she didn't have to keep a secret from. "Morag is fine with you too. Why Ginny Weasley isn't?"

"The difference is that Morag MacDougal has never been on a quest with you and you don't talk to her, more or less, about the Rowan problem either." Sighing, Laima put a hand to her forehead. "You can have friends, but you have to watch what you say. Talking to outsiders can be dangerous, and if someone isn't fit to be a shadow, the guardians might take you into custody. Then you're in one of those cells too, and you can't get out."

For a moment, Luna just looked at the sylph before slowly nodding. Her words made sense. The cells from which sounds kept coming were not a place she wanted to stay. The whole thing was a little too creepy for that. As long as she wasn't alone, everything seemed fine. With Laima, she was safe when she entered the guardians' worlds. But away from that, only tightness remained in her chest.

Her eyes fixed on the book again, with its magical contents that seemed almost as unique as all the beings that existed in the world. Part of her wanted to sink between the lines and experience it all for herself, the rest wanted to add something new. Laima, meanwhile, took the liberty of disappearing. Her hasty wing beats chased her through the common room so fast that no one even lifted their heads.

With that, Luna was finally alone, busy with the notes of unknown expanses of an even more unknown world.

The letters lulled her, made the world around her fantastic, and pushed the common room into the background. Laima, her words, the search, none of it mattered in those blinks. Let the sylph find a better place for the items. In those seconds Luna would rather float in magic, let herself be guided, straight over the simple things to what no one else saw.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, wind seemed to glide through her hair – all at once there was no more tiredness in her. No more sluggish feeling that had somehow accompanied her all day, but hadn't overpowered her. The sharp, icy air made her close her eyes briefly to blink away the dry feeling. But she waited a little longer - until the wind had turned into absolute silence.

Then she opened her eyelids.

And found herself in the white room, where the chairs invited her to wait and a man stood behind the counter.

Indecisive, Luna looked to either side, but Laima wasn't there. Without the sylph, she had no plan who to ask for or what he needed to tell her in order for the next piece of the puzzle to emerge. The Ravenclaw glanced at her hands. She must have fallen asleep when she reached this place.

Slumber had come upon her unexpectedly and although it was hard to believe that it was real, the proof was right in front of her.

Her hands automatically buried themselves in the hem of her jumper as Luna took a few steps towards the reception desk. Halfway there, she stopped and looked at the chairs. If she sat down and waited, maybe Laima would follow. Maybe she would find something to read.

Slowly, the little witch shifted one foot in front of the other, approaching the seats, when something rough wrapped itself around her leg. It was so scratched up that Luna could feel it through her stockings. Instantly, her attention rushed to a doll that clutched her tightly. It was the worn piece she had been given after a night in the presence of a guardian.

Rowan.

Noticing Luna's interest, the doll let go and jumped awkwardly back a few inches. The brittle rustle accompanied every movement. But Rowan - if it really was Rowan - wasn't impressed. Instead, she gestured with a fingerless hand to the man behind the reception desk.

She was asked to move.

It was daring. She had been warned from all sides. But even if Rowan couldn't speak, she had found a way into this dream to show her the way. Perhaps it wasn't the wisest decision to go along, but it was the right one; her heart was certain. There was a reason for everything. The threads of magic were connecting.

All one had to do was look closely.

In fact, Luna decided to follow. Straight to the counter, behind which this not-so-unknown man was leafing through a magazine, giving some things a thin smile. He was different from the last time, and yet he was still the same.

"What should I ask?" Quietly, the witch turned to the doll at her feet, who was clearly crossing its arms. A gesture she had once seen in a Muggle comic her mother had picked up. A sign of rejection. As if she was being told not to ask for anything.

The penny dropped quickly.

"Excuse me?" This time, Luna turned to the receptionist. "Do you know where the Guardian of Nothing is?"

Her counterpart's eyes lifted slowly before he wrinkled his nose and cleared his throat. Mouth agape, he pushed the magazine aside and leaned forward a little. "Are you sure you want to know, little one? Vile woman, I can tell you that."

She nodded significantly. "I want to."

"Don't start crying when you regret your decision, though," he replied, pressed. The compulsion to gag stuck in his throat and didn't change when he stepped out from behind the counter and took the lead.

But the corridor they had usually followed remained horribly short this time. A door led them outside, into a backyard with a light green lawn around the edges and a small wooden house in the middle. It had something of Hagrid's hut, which could be seen from some of the castle's windows if you squinted your eyes and had a lot of imagination.

Her guide, on the other hand, found nothing wrong with this hut. Instead, he opened the door and gestured inside with one hand. "This is as far as I will go. You just have to follow the path and you'll get to your destination."

Luna kept her eyes on him for a moment before glancing into the darkness that led endlessly downwards. Slowly, she pulled out her wand. She would need some light to move forward, but the scratching on her leg was distracting. Briefly, the Ravenclaw turned to the doll, then took the liberty of picking it up and bringing it to her face in both hands. It still weighed no more than a few grams and yet it had a weight under its fabric that made Luna's hands tremble.

Rowan's arms were stretched in the air before she brought them both to her face and placed them over the place where there should have been a mouth.

So it was forbidden to speak in this place. Silence seemed to wait for her everywhere. But the Ravenclaw took note, shifted Rowan into one hand and put the wand away again.

Only then did she set foot in the darkness.

None of her steps made a sound and this time, the witch didn't dare try to provoke a noise. She preferred to follow the dark path monotonously, lit only by the faint glow of the still open door. But the light didn't reach far and when the blackness swallowed her completely, the Ravenclaw couldn't help but glance back.

She could still choose to turn around. Just go back and sit on the chairs.

But as the doll placed its rounded hands on Luna's, it was certain there was no going back. All these things had already happened, so her only option was to keep moving forward. At the end of the day, this path was still a dream and as long as she followed the rules, there was no problem.

It wasn't difficult.

Still, there was something oppressive about the darkness. Her grip on Rowan tightened. Her eyes tried to adjust to the blackness, but each step made everything a little darker.

Until a hiss almost escaped her.

A ball of light flared up. Its bright glow brought the walls and even the floor back into the picture, creating a shallow lightness. Another ball of light followed shortly after. Luna followed them, letting them light her way, and the further she went, the more they became. The corridor brightened, at some point appearing like a path in daylight; then, at some point, like the blinding sun.

Luna's eyes narrowed. The brightness burned her vision, and the heat that combined with it smothered her breaths. She raised her hand, shielded her sight, then closed her eyes.

It needed to stop.

The darkness was far too gloomy, and the light stung her skin. Unpleasant and hateful, as if she had no business being in this place.

Without further ado, the Ravenclaw stopped and tried to get used to the bright lights. But when she lowered her hand and opened her eyes again to catch a clear picture, she seemed to be merely standing in a bright mist.

It was pitch black. She couldn't see her own hand in front of her eyes, and yet the image of the path seemed to have been burned onto her retinas. Luna had to blink several times until the illusion faded and she was actually standing in impenetrable blackness again.

If she looked back, there was nothing.

If she looked ahead, there was no end.

The endlessness made her heart race and although Luna knew everything had an end, it didn't change the nervousness. It just ate away at her sanity a little less.

Tense, the witch took one deep breath – quiet as a mouse. Her lungs filled, her pulse quieted, and she pushed on. Her feet barely lifted from the ground, feeling every bump through her shoes. So at least she wouldn't fall down anywhere.

The silence released a whining in her ears, spun the world and sometimes the Ravenclaw thought she was spinning in circles. There were no sides, no front and back. There were only four unknown directions, which she could hardly distinguish from each other – until she stumbled and the bright light came back all at once.

Luna slammed down on the hard floor, feeling the pain in her arms and in one knee. It burned, the light blinded her and for what seemed like an eternity she couldn't help but close her eyes and count coloured dots behind her lids. Until the pain glowed like fire, but the light only seemed like a side effect. Only then did she raise her head and dared a cautious glance at her surroundings.

The orbs were still far too bright, but at least they didn't make it impossible to see. There were still walls to her sides, with the subtle difference that an iron grille had been placed in front of her. It was emblazoned in front of a wooden door, and although Luna couldn't use a spell, she plucked up the courage and scrambled to her feet.

The jumper had worn through her arms. The knee was bleeding. But she ignored it as she reached for the grate and pulled.

With a crack, the metal gave way under the slight jerk. It slid out of the lock, creaked, and swung open, allowing Luna to reach for the handle.

Her hand settled on smooth metal that was as cold as the rusted part of the grate. It made her catch her breath, sigh, and hold Rowan tightly against her. Not once in the fall had she let go. This doll was far too important for that.

Only when the pounding in her chest had subsided did Luna dare to open the door. The wood fell inwards, dragging the witch with it and leading her straight into a room whose colours had been smeared on the wall in complete disarray. Strange figures stared at her in vague drawings. She didn't know these painted-on, two-tone figures, whose smiles looked amused while they wore little bells on strange hats. Most of them had gaunt faces, some possessed hooked noses, and they all had the same grin.

Luna's eyes hunted over the pictures, rushing over the walls, not noticing until much later that there was someone else in the room besides her.

Arms wrapped tightly around her body, there, in the middle of the room, stood a woman. Her skin looked as if it had been dipped in red paint. The steely, sweet smell made Luna's mouth pucker. She seemed to have been standing in that exact spot for ages. Roots entwined around her naked body. Her face was turned towards the ceiling and the Ravenclaw could no longer avert her gaze.

This woman had almost the same face as the figures. Fascinating and yet frightening enough to take two steps back.

She had no plan what to ask. Saying anything other than asking the question was forbidden, she knew. So Luna set Rowan down on the stone floor and hoped for an answer. Anything that would help.

For the first moment, the doll held still, as if it was thinking just the same. It took so long that Luna nudged it with a finger before Rowan started to move. She staggered awkwardly towards a paint bucket half-hidden under a table. Then Rowan stuck an arm into the liquid.

When she retrieved it, it shimmered a dark blue, which she smeared messily on the wall. Each stroke had slightly less opacity than the one before it, but Luna could still read the question.

Clawing her hands in her jumper again, the witch addressed the guard. "What were they when they were one?"

A crackle filled the room as the guard's face turned in Luna's direction. Eyes wide, this stranger, unlike the drawings, did not produce a grin. Instead, she opened her mouth, her deep voice bearing witness to sorrow left behind in long-forgotten days.

"Paradise," she answered Luna. "We were the beginning and also the end. Something whole, something half, and yet something in between something and nothing." Her eyes narrowed. "We were hope and joy, sometimes hate and ruin. We were the soul of this earth ... and we created life." The sigh on her lips weighed heavily. "We were what people baptised God before they made up stories to pray. And we were also what man tore apart when it was no longer enough."

Although the guardian's words sounded jumbled, Luna thought she grasped the meaning. If everything had a soul, then the earth had to have one too. And that soul was the guardians, separated by a few hands of unfathomable people.

"Tell me, little witch, do you believe in a god?"

Slowly, she shook her head. God was something that belonged to Muggles. In her world, it was Merlin who was called upon when something didn't quite go according to plan.

"I see." The guardian bowed her head. "You wizards and witches believe in the all-powerful magic of Merlin without knowing who he really was. Then let me tell you he was nothing and yet everything. The first seeker and the first guardian. A soul of ours and yet only a stranger. The god who tore us apart, who created us, and who learned through us what power meant."

More words that Luna didn't clearly understand. It seemed as if they were trying to tell her that Merlin was God to the wizards, just as the Muggles possessed their own. A bit like from mythology, of which one sometimes read references in historical books, because Loki and Thor were wizards just as Cleopatra was a witch. Everything had its origin somewhere, and it seemed magic had begun with Merlin.

"Should you one day wish to grasp the story, then go down to the solitude in billowing cold, little witch. Let it draw you into the depths. I will give you the key." With a few steps, the guardian bridged the distance. "Be worthy of a seeker. And when you have seen all, tell me if we may truly never be one again."

Carefully, the guardian placed her hand on her chest, as if to give Luna a push in the right direction. But the sudden surge of pain snapped her out of her thoughts.

Luna's mouth opened, the scream in her throat stifled, fire burning into her skin. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move her hands. There was no chance of using a spell. The only thing left was to push through her back, stuck to that one spot that held her tightly in its arms.

Her skin seemed to melt, the heat seeping down to her bones, and the tension in her tiny fingers ached. Her hair danced in invisible waves as the magic in her body weakened.

The fire faded.

The tension vanished within seconds.

And her legs gave way.

Luna no longer noticed how she crashed down, lingering instead in darkness that caressed her. Her senses remained muddled. Restlessness clung to every cell.

Jerking her eyes open, she willed herself out of the darkness and startled at the same time. The breath on her lips remained hot, but her surroundings were still the Ravenclaw common room.

"Is everything alright?"

Hastily, Luna turned her head to the side, causing her blonde strands to fly. Next to her sat Morag. In front of her on the table were buns, already spread with jam.

"No," Luna replied barely a moment later. "I had a nightmare."

"I would have, too, with such an ugly doll." Without further ado, Morag wrinkled her nose and pointed at Luna's hands lingering in her lap. Between them, the doll she suspected Rowan was in. "But let's divert to something really exciting."

Luna could barely take her eyes off Rowan when she heard Laima snort.

"Look what I found." Gripping tightly at the collar of her dress, Morag swung the sylph back and forth. "She was fluttering around the corridors, saying she belonged to you. I didn't even know you had an elf as a magical pet. I mean, yes, anything is allowed as a pet and companion here, but you rarely see anything other than cats, toads and owls."

"Sylph, you oaf!" Laima lashed out wildly, trying to defend herself but failing outright.

"She's not my pet," Luna confirmed gently. "She's my guide."

"A running synopsis, then." Morag abruptly let go of the sylph. "You should watch out for her. Some are always looking for guides because they haven't been given any themselves." She winked. "And sylphs are a great thing, if you can have one. At least, I've heard that some would really like to have them as pets – sort of like how Muggles keep birds."

Only slowly did Luna's gaze fall on Laima, whose wings carried her to the table. A few of the Ravenclaw glanced over at her briefly, but none seemed to have any genuine interest in her, the food or Laima. That was fine, if she trusted Morag's words.

"And now we should eat before we get caught by anyone else who likes to cause trouble ... Linquist, for example." The smirk on Morag's lips was thin, but still made Luna completely forget what had happened in her dream. Only the guardian's words were still present – combined with the tingling on her chest that throbbed treacherously every now and then.

Half in thought, Luna grabbed one bun. The rubbery texture and sweet jam kept demanding her attention; until Merlin was just lurking in the back of her mind.

She had to take things one step at a time. First, Rowan had to be freed. Then she could dive into the adventures beyond. Into the worlds of mystery that were still unfathomable to some.

Her stomach filled steadily and with each additional bite, her determination to go to the library once more that evening increased. She knew where to look and also how far she had come with Ginny Weasley's help. The rest she would manage on her own.

Morag kept her company only until the last roll before she decided it was time to sleep. Luna, on the other hand, put the book back in its place and slipped - the doll in her cloak – into the room she shared with Piper.

To make matters worse, the light was still on – it wasn't bedtime yet, after all – and Piper's voice came muffled through the door. It seemed like she was talking to someone, but when Luna listened more closely, it became clear her roommate was reading something aloud. It sounded like an old fairy tale that had been popular in the witch world during her father's time, but she couldn't think of the title.

Quietly, the Ravenclaw reached for the door and opened it. The light was blinding.

Piper sat in her bed ready for sleep, a heavy book in her hands. Her voice immediately died away when she caught sight of Luna.

"Look at you," she then started. "Where have you been?" She lowered the book. "You were absent from dinner."

"I was learning a new spell," Luna returned banally. It was the truth.

Piper seemed to believe her on this one. Her brows lifted and the sigh on her lips sounded almost understanding. "Because of the Memory Charm Dumbledore's been relying on more and more? I've heard that's also why we're not allowed home away from the summer holidays." She leaned back a little. "Supposedly for our community spirit."

It seemed like the perfect topic to finally make friends with each other. Maybe then she would understand Piper's unfriendly behaviour a little better.

Hope grew with each passing minute and the closer Luna got to her bed, the more she wanted to talk to her roommate about it. "They say that none of the ones who keep their memory say anything."

"Because it's not important," Piper returned. "I heard my father talk about it once. Dumbledore's words carry more weight than the talk of children. Besides, he's manipulated half the Ministry. Hogwarts ... is just what it is." Without further ado, the witch shrugged before turning her attention back to her book. "Just make sure you don't disappear without a trace. Not like I care, but there's still a place open for the disappeared. After all, we both know Rowan wasn't a victim of the curse."

Perhaps it was a warning. Or maybe it was just well-intentioned advice. Luna acknowledged her words with a nod before getting ready for bed. Her nightgown was quickly on her body and she left the bathroom behind as hastily as the burning on her chest. It was by now only a dull throbbing that would pass, of that she was sure. Away from it, she was unharmed. No scraped knee, no bruised arms, no burnt skin.

When she slipped under the covers, it was a cosy warmth that lulled her barely a moment later. Fatigue had caught up with her within seconds, where before it had seemed to be blown away. The last dream had led her wide awake through dull scenes in deep sleeplessness. This time, she hoped for peace.

As the Ravenclaw closed her eyes and turned to the side, Laima came to her mind. The Sylph had remained in the common room. Presumably, she still hadn't finished her search for a suitable hiding place. But that was all right. Rowan would show her the way when it mattered.

Something the young witch trusted, which was why the thoughts kept fading. No one would come for her - she had a feeling. The peace germinated deep inside her. The world clothed itself in darkness.

Her existence disappeared.

A part of Luna seemed to float in nowhere, clinging to beauty in deepest uncertainty until she heard her name.

Somewhere in the far distance, a man was calling out to her. It was the same voice she had heard before. The same one that Ginny Weasley had perceived.

But he had nothing more to say to her than her name. Over and over again as she looked around and could find nothing. No one was waiting for her. No one was there. A little as if all this was imagination that she wanted to believe without being able to touch it.

There were no images. No moments of closeness. Only darkness.

Blackness in which she could sleep.