immersio aquae (im-MER-see-oh AH-kwai) | wand held loosely in dominant hand, palm up; gradually draw wand arm to chest height, wand directed toward target, until fourth syllable is pronounced, rapidly drop arm, center mass, on pronunciation of penultimate syllable, then tighten grip on wand and twist clockwise. Effect is maintained by uninterrupted eye contact with target.
Effect: The spell immerses target in a suspended sphere of water. A powerful cast can stun, disarm, and even drown target, if eye contact is maintained after cast.
Harry held the weathered copy of Ancient, Rare and Powerful Spells before him, a bit intimidated by the execution instructions on the next spell he and Luna decided to tackle.
Initially, he stumbled over the wand grip. He'd never held his wand loosely, palm up. Some part of him hated the notion, as he distinctly recalled Voldemort's long, serpentine fingers gripping his pale white wand in such a manner. It took him a half dozen attempts to feel even remotely comfortable.
It took another fifteen attempts to master the rapid drop and the timing of the spell's pronunciation. Within a dozen more attempts, he felt comfortable with the timing and the tightened, clockwise grip. At every stage, Luna gave him pointers.
When he finally got it, the effect of the spell was brilliant. The suit of arms was wrapped completely in a perfect sphere of deep blue water, two meters wide. He held his gaze upon what would have been his target's eyes, and the sphere lifted, suspending the target three meters above the floor.
Harry broke eye contact, turning to Luna in awestruck glee. She was grinning, with proud eyes. "Well done, Harry Potter! That was brilliant."
He paced to the far wall, helped her to her feet. She smiled, thanked him, and kissed him on his cheek.
After she reread the text once again, she settled herself in the middle of the room. This spell didn't come as naturally to Luna, because she could hardly grapple with the notion of maintaining eye contact with a thing that had no eyes. The grip and the motions seemed simple enough, but she found herself shifting her gaze to her wand at just the wrong moment.
Finally, after a dozen attempts, she executed a perfect immersio aquae. The suit of armor suspended four meters above the floor, in a sphere at least three meters wide.
She smiled happily, skipped back to Harry, and settled next to him, lacing her fingers between his.
He was astounded, and beaming with pride. "Luna Lovegood, I'm afraid you're a more powerful witch than I am a wizard." Harry said, with a broad, happy smile.
She laughed, turned to him playfully. In a distant, melodic voice she replied, "No need to be afraid. I can't think of a single reason I'd like to drown you."
Exhausted, they decided to break for lunch, and thought it best to head to Harry's so they could seamlessly shift their attention to the cauldron full of Intelligentia Concentrata.
Harry picked up the rusty tin can beside the ancient ash, punctured with a string of loose thread attached, laced his fingers through Luna's.
"Home."
After an uncomfortable twist behind their navels, they arrived at the far hedge of a primary school in Little Whinging.
As Harry reached down to twist the knob of his front door, it opened of its own accord. Just beyond the entryway stood Dobby, nicely dressed in a smart french violet three-piece suit, with a small gold pocket watch tucked into the chest pocket, attached to the jacket loosely with a gold chain. He wore shiny, pastel orange oxfords and a bright green bowler hat.
"Harry Potter is home! And he's brought a guest! Dobby is pleased to welcome you to Potter House." At this, Dobby bowed reverentially.
Luna smiled kindly, and returned his bow. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dobby. My name is Luna Lovegood. Harry has told me so much about you, and I'm sure we'll become the best of friends."
Dobby was struck by her kindness. "Oh, thank you, Ms. Luna Lovegood. Dobby is thrilled to meet you, and is always at your service."
Dobby formally reported that he'd completed the tasks Harry had assigned him this morning, interrupting himself on a number of occasions to laud the generosity of his Harry Potter. A moment later Harry remembered his conversation this morning with Luna.
"Oh! Dobby? Have you ever been tasked with finding magical books? And do you have the ability to apparate internationally?"
Dobby lit up. "Indeed, Harry Potter. Dobby can apparate anywhere in the world. And Dobby has on many occasions assisted with the research efforts of witches and wizards." His brow furrowed. "Many times Dobby hated the dark and wicked books he was tasked to find." His expression brightened. "But Dobby does enjoy searching for books, and he would dearly love to do so to assist Harry Potter and Ms. Luna Lovegood."
They were thrilled. "That's brilliant, Dobby!" Luna exclaimed. "We're desperately in need of your help."
A tremor of glee visibly pulsed through Dobby's body, and he bobbed happily in on his toes.
Harry jumped in. "Dobby, I wonder if you can visit the most notable magical book shops in Britain, and every major magical book shop internationally, to search for ancient books on Fairies, Fairy Communities, Fairy Lore, and the Realm of Fairie. Please withdraw from the Potter vault to cover the cost of the books and your expenses"
Dobby was trembling with excitement. "Dobby would be most happy to do so, Harry Potter! I shall leave immediately."
"One more thing, Dobby. Are you able to access a list of volumes present in the Potter Library?" Harry asked.
Dobby nodded proudly, his chin up. "Indeed, Harry Potter. Dobby has magical access to all of your inherited properties, and associated records."
"Brilliant." Harry said with a smile. "I'd like to supplement our library with any notable potions contributions published in the last 40 years. Would you seek those volumes as well?"
Dobby puffed with pride. "Indeed sir, Dobby will not disappoint you." At this, the room echoed with a loud whip-crack, and Dobby was gone.
They arrived to a tall pile of freshly baked flaky croissants, a long stained-wood platter covered in a variety of cheeses, smoked meats, and olives, a half dozen bowls full of sliced fruits, and cold pitchers of pumpkin juice.
They spoke of ancient spells, speculating about the nature of spellcraft, how movements, emotions, and expression, when formally associated with Latin words, might prompt the reality of the world to bend. They traded notions about cultural values that might lead a society to abandon some spells and prioritize the transmission of others. They shared their regrets about the pace of the coursework at Hogwarts School, determined with shared resolve to do what they could to offset the imbalance of their education.
They sat across the table from one another for over an hour, Luna's bare toes gently tracing the curves of Harry's feet beneath the table as they spoke. They had a comfortable, thoughtless intimacy.
Around 2:30 they headed to the potions lab. Harry read aloud the recipe for Intelligencia Concentrata for reference, as Luna returned the neatly arranged shelves of potions ingredients. She set aside a single Dried Newt's Eye and six Lacewing Flies on the preparation table, as Harry inspected the batch in the simmering cauldron.
"Look at this, Luna. It's amazing." He directed her attention to the surface of the brewing potion. It was notable for what you couldn't see. Within the cauldron was a void, the complete lack of color, texture and movement. As they gazed into the void, it became increasingly apparent that the color of the cauldron, even the color of the magical tools and the wall upon which they hung beside the cauldron, were being gathered slowly. The light surrounding the brew seemed to fade, tendrils of color in wisps gathering into the void all the time.
Luna reflected distantly. "The recipe says to 'wait until mixture captures surrounding light,' and I supposed it referred to a distorted reflection of light in some sense, like oil on water reflects the surrounding light in swimming iridescent rainbows. It appears the potion is actually absorbing the light of surrounding objects."
Harry's gaze never left the void below. " I never knew potions could be this interesting." He paused, his brow furrowed. He turned to Luna, exasperated. "You know I have so many regrets, Luna. I've been so passive. I let Snape crush any interest in Potions, I let Ron stifle any interest I had in studies. I even let Dumbledore disrupt relationships, foster distance between my godfather and I."
He clenched his jaw, fighting frustration. "At any stage I could have said no. At any point I could have refused to be tossed around. How much have I lost, just by accepting that path? I mean, until a few days ago I'd never truly applied myself. And in that time, in that impossibly short window, I feel like the world's opened to me. I feel new and whole and fascinated. More than that, I feel there's hope, as if I'm not doomed to die. I don't have to be a frail, powerless boy fated to sacrifice himself to the wicked power of a wicked man." He gathered himself, took a breath and slowly exhaled. "That freedom — it was within my reach all the time."
Luna, standing at his side, gazing into the cauldron, took his hand into hers, drew his fingers to her lips, and kissed him softly. After a moment, she turned to him. She spoke softly, melodically.
"We are crafting our characters all the time, Harry Potter. What we do shapes us into who we are. Don't be paralyzed by regret, and don't be crippled by bitterness. Every decision you've made, even those you'll never make again, have led you here, to all the beauty that lies before you."
She kissed his cheek, leaned her forehead into his shoulder. "Your past is a part of who you are. And I wouldn't trade who you are for anything."