"Perhaps you might describe to me again the compulsion you both felt?"
Xenophilius was pacing, his long fingers laced behind his back, the sleeves of his white tunic rolled to three quarter length, his long, white hair pulled back with a thin, leather cord. His angular features were fixed, at intervals, on Harry, Luna, and sporadically on a distant shelf in his broad, open library. He'd conjured two chairs, identical to his own.
"It was as if, I dunno, I wanted to know her fully, and to be known by her. To be seen by her. I know how crazy it sounds, it's just—" Harry felt uncomfortable, not for the first time.
"Nonsense, Harry. And you, my dear?"
"It's true. I layered the memories flawlessly, daddy, and it couldn't have been clearer. At precisely the same moment, we each felt an overwhelming compulsion to 'to see and be seen. To fully and comprehensively know, and be known.'"
"And the second memory you explored?"
This time, Luna spoke first. "A sudden, overwhelming impulse 'to protect what we've been given; to patiently discover, fighting compromise at every step, driven by the hope of flesh and spirit finally wed, pressing back the darkness as allies forever.'"
At this he halted, his furrowed brow shifting, his eyes narrowing, set unflinchingly on Luna, piercing and grave.
"Given? You're sure of the language? 'To protect what you've been given?'"
They both nodded, heavy with concern.
"And, pardon me, but would you repeat the last part, my darling? 'Pressing back…'"
"Pressing back the darkness as allies forever." Luna knew, now, that her father was beginning to understand, and a sudden gravity struck her features.
Xenophilius, struck, had shifted his gaze to the window which spanned the breadth of the exterior wall, and to the distant horizon beyond it. Inhaling deeply, his lips moved as if whispering in an ancient tongue. Lost in thought, he paced and nodded and whispered for what must have been three minutes before responding.
"I believe I'm beginning to understand." An idea suddenly occurred to him, and his distant gaze returned to the pair. "Might I see the memories themselves?" He asked.
They looked at him with wide eyes, a shade of crimson washing over their features. Luna appeared as if, just for a moment, she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
"Ah." He smiled kindly. "I understand, and it's nothing to be ashamed of."
A relief washed over them so rapidly that Harry could have sworn it shifted the air in the room.
For a while they sat, watching him pace with unbridled anticipation, a gravity cast over their features.
At last he spoke. "We know, of course, that what you've experienced is outside the bounds of everyday magic. Any suspicion of accidental confundus or imperio casts are immediately stricken by the sobriety of the moment, the sheer awareness of sensations and impressions you've both exhibited. Potions engineered to foster a cognitive or emotive effect leave a residue which I've not detected in either of you. This home is warded against any creature of magical influence whatever, and I've just confirmed that the wards yet stand. A lapse hasn't been recorded in nearly three hundred years, so it's safe to rule out the influence of Nargles, Wrackspurts, and Moon Frogs."
He smiled, and Harry wasn't entirely sure whether he was serious about that last bit.
"Were there any doubts, the nature of the compulsions you've shared overwhelm them altogether." He shifted his gaze, setting his piercing eyes directly on Luna, and something like a joyful sorrow overwhelmed his features.
"You've described what is called, in the arena of soul magic, a nexus."
Harry merely watched. Luna, however, was struck with a sudden intake of breath.
Xenophilius nodded, and after a moment continued. "Or, in a more ancient tongue, kesratha. The notion, in our language, is soul bond. You are, it seems, at your very heart, knit together. It is, and I cannot stress this enough without sounding absurdly hyperbolic, extraordinarily rare magic. To my knowledge there are six cases in the last three thousand years. Pressing beyond these documented instances forces us to tap into the realm of myth and legend. For legend is, I'm afraid, the only source of explanation we have access to."
He breathed, inhaling full and exhaling slowly. "For nexus is fairy magic, and of a kind extraordinarily precious. Nexus is a gift of the Raven King himself."
Harry cocked his head, brow furrowed. "The Raven King?"
Suddenly an ancient melody sprung from Luna's lips, a song of such striking beauty that Harry felt time itself surrender to its pace. Soft melodies drew them into her melodic enchantment, as the very dust in the air stilled, suspended in the beams of the morning sun. Overtaken by the spell, she swayed gently, shifting her gaze to the ancient oak, to the brook and willows beyond, and suddenly the distant ring of bells joined in chorus.
"Darkness shudders, shadows fall
Trembling, watch the wicked flee
Hear the righteous raven's call
Bound and broken hearts set free
Prince of Fairie, hope of men,
the Raven King reigns again
Prince of Fairie, hope of men,
the Raven King reigns again"
Suddenly the enchantment broke. Luna shook herself, inhaled shapely, and shot her wide eyes to meet the gaze of her father. Tears were welling in her eyes, and a heaviness fell upon her shoulders.
Xenophilius cleared the distance between them and gathered her into a gentle embrace. "I've not heard that melody in six years."
For a moment they held each other, mourning the loss of wife and mother.
As he watched them, suddenly the beauty of their love, an intimacy borne of shared burdens, of mutual understanding, unshakable affection, and unmovable commitment, washed over Harry. Longing and sorrow overtook him, finally overcome by determined resolve to protect her, to protect this, at all costs.
In time, they parted, and suddenly Harry's presence shook Xenophilius, anchoring him to the present.
"The melody you heard, Harry, was the lullaby Pandora once sung over Luna every evening. Ancient lyrics, filtered of course through at least a half dozen linguistic frameworks. It is an artifact of an ancient prophecy — a prophecy, you might say, in which Pandora set her hope."
He took a moment to gather himself, considering. Finally, he spoke, and something of Luna's distant, melodic speculations was evidenced in his musings. "It is said that, many thousands of years ago, the high fairies visited the realm of men, led by their prince, the Raven King. They came bearing gifts."
He shook his head. "Poor students of myth and legend might say they'd given magic to men, yet this interpretation doesn't do justice to the most ancient and faithful textual traditions. Magic is at the heart of men, and it cannot be given or taken away."
"Wands, potions, enchantments and spells — these were the gifts of the Raven King. In a word, he set the magical community on a journey to understand magic."
His brow furrowed. "The high fairies, you must understand, were born of the light. Yet as they dwelt among men, cunningly and silently, darkness seduced the hearts of some. For it took no time at all for wicked men to twist the ancient craft of the Raven King into violence and destruction, and by their dark arts they stole the hearts of not a few ancient souls. As apprentices honed the craft of wandwork, of potions and spellcraft, a new evil emerged, corrupting the hearts of men and fairy alike. Without warning, a fraction of the most powerful witches, wizards, and fairies, unleashed their dark magic against the Raven King himself, and he was violently cast out of the realm of men and the realm of fairies."
At this, Xenophilius shifted his gaze to Harry's, and the shadow of hope lifted his expression. "Yet in the wake of that violent act, it is said, an ancient melody sounded, carrying the song of the Raven King — a prophecy which resounded in the hearts of men. Hence the song you heard just now, Harry Potter, which has been passed down, generation after generation, by those who fight the darkness."
Luna laced her fingers through his, softly singing the last lines.
"Prince of Fairie, hope of men,
the Raven King reigns again"
As if from outside of himself, hope rallied in Harry's heart, and he wondered.
Xenophilius smiled.
"Nexus, it is said, is a gift of the Raven King himself. It is a shining light, illuminating the darkest generations. When the light falters and all hope seems lost, it is said that he chooses champions — a pair of champions to embody the light itself, to lead his armies against the darkness itself. And he equips these champions with Nexus."
He smiled awkwardly, shifting his eyes away from the pair. "It's been described as a building emotional and, forgive me, physical connection. Champions are drawn to one another, at first socially and inexplicably. Every word exchanged, every memory shared, every glance and touch strengthens the bond, until a vibrant affection colors every interaction." At this, he blushed. "I'm told that showing physical restraint is an act of nearly impossible willpower, as the soul bond culminates and is maintained by," he hesitated, "one might say, physical acts of intimacy. In the end, they are one in all but the strictly physiological sense. Their will is knit, their minds are knit, their very souls are knit."
He cleared his throat, overcoming his embarrassment by sheer willpower. "Nexus is a gift in that sense, for by knitting the hearts of his champions, they will pierce the darkness itself by the shining light of love."