Hermoine stood stiffly in the entryway to No. 4 1/2 Privet Drive, enveloped in Luna Lovegood's tight embrace. She wore a half-awkward smile and couldn't help but laugh as she returned her embrace with a quick squeeze and three soft pats, communicating without words "It's nice to meet you" as much as "Okay, we're done now."

Luna released her reluctantly, pulled back, and smiled with wide eyes.

At this, Harry stepped in. "Let me show you around."

He paraded her through the living room, potions lab, and dining room. The tour ground to a screeching halt as soon as they stepped into the library.

"Oh, Harry…" Hermoine spoke softly after a sharp intake of breath. "It's perfect."

There was no use pushing her along. For the next half hour, Hermoine languidly perused the floor-to ceiling shelves, here and there pulling ancient tomes and softly thumbing through titles with affectionate hums. After she'd traced the outer walls a second time, Harry called her name playfully; at last the enchantment broke.

"Oh! Right. Sorry." She smiled bashfully.

After a quick run through his loft, Harry led them back down the stairs to the living room. Luna took a seat directly next to Harry on the near side of the overstuffed, crimson red sofa. Hermione sat directly across from them in one of the leather wingbacks.

"You mentioned, Harry, that something had come up. It sounded urgent, and I've already wasted nearly an hour gushing over your library."

"Right." Harry hesitated for just a moment, then gathered himself. "We have reason to believe that in three days I'll be attacked by two dementors in an alleyway of Little Whinging."

Hermione's face was unreadable. "What reason?"

Harry stumbled. "I'm sorry. What?"

Hermione blinked. "Apologies. I meant, what reason do you have to believe that two dementors will attack you in an alleyway in Little Whinging?"

Harry began to respond, then hesitated. At this, Luna leaned into him, wrapping his left arm over her shoulder and lacing her fingers through his left hand. She held a steady, piercing gaze. With furrowed brow and trembling chin she spoke, her voice just breaking.

"I saw it. I'm a seer, Hermione. I saw the dementors attack, and I saw Harry bound and arrested by two Aurors, and I saw him stand before a divided Wizengamot."

For a moment nothing happened. Then the air in the room shifted, and everything was still, and it was suddenly cooler.

The slightest lift of Hermione's left eyebrow, and nothing beyond this, exhibited a restraint of which Harry did not know her capable.

"You… saw it?" She exerted every energy to withhold judgment.

Luna nodded.

"Okay. Um. Okay." Hermione gathered herself. "I'm not terribly familiar with…"

"Sight." Luna explained, her voice adopting a vague distance and melody. "The sight has been passed from mother to daughter in my family for over twenty generations. There has never been, at any known point, more than two seers in Britain, or more than seven in the world. You've been told that Professor Trawleney has the sight, but she doesn't. The sight always passes within a family, from mother to daughter, and only ever at the mother's passing. My mother died six years ago, and that's when the sight passed to me."

Hermione was watching, evaluating. She took a breath. "So you can… you see the future?"

Luna shook her head. "It isn't as simple as that. I have no control over the sight. It comes to me, sometimes. My mother told me that the frequency and duration increases with age, and I'm an especially young seer. But sometimes, seemingly at random, my experience of the world around me fades altogether, and for a time I see what will happen. And I know, with absolute certainty, that it will happen. And I know precisely when it will happen. And it has always happened, Hermione, exactly as I saw it, every single time."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Okay." She exhaled slowly. "Okay." She hesitated. "I suppose you must understand that I've no way to feel, with the same certainty, that what you expect will happen will actually happen. But I'm more than willing to suspend my disbelief to prepare for a threat which will, surely, inevitably, threaten the society which we've a duty to preserve. Dementors are a horrid evil, a blight upon the Wizarding pursuit of justice. And they will, of course, turn against us in the end."

She took another breath. "If what you say is true, it challenges everything I know about time, and free will, and ultimately it undoes several central components to the framework with which I account for the world and all that's within it."

She hesitated, caught Luna's gaze directly. "Luna, forgive me. I don't want to cast doubt upon something of which you're certain. I'm with you, and I'll help in whatever way I can."

Luna's eyes welled. "Hermione, I think we'll be the best of friends."

Hermione immediately borrowed a quill and parchment, sending Hedwig with a note to her parents, asking permission to stay the night with her friends to assist with a last minute research project. Within the hour, her request was granted.

"I haven't made much progress, Hermione." Harry admitted, with furrowed brow. "I've scanned the text of a few books, looking for some actionable insight related to the relationship between the Ministry and Azkaban. Nothing there that we didn't already know, as far as I can tell."

Luna spoke up. "I've found a thread that might be worth following. As we all know, the relevant dynamic is emotional, both offensive and defensive. Dementors feed on happiness, on joy, on love. And the Patronus charm is more or less effective, hinging on a wizard's ability to summon happy memories. The best theory texts seem to suggest that this emotional realm has more influence over the efficacy of spellcraft than we've historically acknowledged. I think there's something there, but I'm not sure what."

While they spoke, Hermione scanned the titles they'd pulled earlier that afternoon. "I can see why you'd pursue that angle, Harry." She commented without looking up. "Surely some clever bit of magic was employed to restrain the dementor's impulses while the Ministry negotiated their role as guards of Azkaban. Sirius might be a helpful counselor on that front." She paused, thinking. "Luna, you're right. As I've pursued magical theory independently, I find that emotion is a fundamental ingredient to powerful spellcraft, and such dynamics must be especially important in defense against dark creatures that feed on hope."

She paused mid-thought. "I can't help but think that we're missing something, though."

At this, Harry stomach growled. Turning, they noticed the dining room table was piled high with dishes of Shepherd's Pie, platters of roasted vegetables, baskets of large yeast rolls dripping with butter, bowls of mushy peas, and ice cold pitchers of pumpkin juice.

Hermione looked utterly confused.

"Harry, how did food just appear on your table?"

They traded ideas in turns over the feast spread before them. Luna once again explained every detail she could recall from the vision, as Harry and Hermione listened carefully. Hermione's focus narrowed on the divided Wizengamot. She asked if Luna could discern the nature of the uproar — whether there were clear lines of division visible among the members which might represent political factions. Harry couldn't shake the sense that he was missing something important from the alley scene. They fought the distinct notion that they'd wasted time after uncovering a number of clear dead ends.

It wasn't until dessert that Harry remembered the potion.

"Oh!" Harry shouted, interrupting a speculative back-and-forth between Hermione and Luna. "Well now I feel like a total idiot. Hermione, we've just finished brewing a potion that might help."

Hermione crossed her arms and her eyes narrowed. "You were brewing a potion?"

He laughed. "I know!" After a beat, he continued. "I know. It's just that I started reading one of the ancient potions texts from the Potter Library, and the theory was fascinating, Hermione. And I found myself actually wanting to try a brew, especially considering I've got all I need here in the home. And I realized just then that it wasn't potions I hated, it was Snape."

He paused, smiled broadly. "Actually I've been meaning to tell you. A lot has changed recently, and it's all worked together to clarify some things. I haven't really applied myself since entering the Wizarding World, Hermione, despite your efforts. I think I was afraid of what Ron might think, or distracted by this ridiculous rivalry with Malfoy, or obsessed with Quidditch. It's as if I've had blinders on. Almost as soon as I discovered the beauty of magic, I lost sight of it. Anyway, when everything changed recently, the opportunity before me became crystal clear. I want to grow. I want to understand. And I don't want to let anything get in my way."

Luna laced her fingers through his hand, smiling with a proud affection.

Hermione beamed. "Oh Harry, I've been waiting for you to say that to me for years."

Harry led them into the potions lab. As he approached, a narrow cabinet of carved woodwork magically emerged from the wall just above the workstation. He opened it, and grabbed three vials from the top left shelf.

"It's called Intelligentia Concentrata. It's from a mid nineteenth century text on potions intended to strengthen efforts of the mind, and to protect the mind from foreign influence. Dumbledore mentioned a vague suspicion that Voldemort and I share some sort of mental or emotional connection that could be exploited, so it seemed pretty relevant. But I stumbled upon this recipe."

He opened the text, flipped to the yellowed, annotated page. "A potion to hone the endeavors of a mind, particularly when laboring to understand a difficult subject."

He looked up from the recipe. "If I'm reading the margin notes rightly, it's been used for at least a half dozen Potters. Luna and I just finished crafting it this afternoon. I figure, if anything will help us find some answers, it's this."

Hermione bit her lip, picking up the text and scanning the pages with furrowed brow. "While I'm not typically the first to ingest untested potions, by all appearances you've executed the preparations flawlessly. And the scratches in the margin indicate it's particularly helpful."

Harry smiled hopefully, held out two vials, glancing from Hermione to Luna. "So what do we think, guys?"

Hermione shrugged with a nervous smile, tucking a stray chestnut curl behind her right ear, and took the vial from his hand.

Luna bobbed on her tiptoes, leaned forward and kissed Harry's cheek as she took the vial from his hand.

Harry pulled the cork, held the glass vial before him. "Cheers?"