Harry, Luna, Hermione, and Sirius remained in the Rook's Defense Chambers through mid-afternoon, carefully observing Harry's pronunciation, wand movement, and timing. Aside from a quick run to the kitchen for sandwiches, their attention was devoted exclusively to perfecting Harry's execution. By three, he must have cast Expecto Bellator flawlessly two hundred times.
Convinced there wasn't any room for improvement, they decided together to head back to Harry's home and await Dumbledore's arrival.
Dumbledore was sitting on the far leather wingback in Harry's living room when they arrived. He was sipping tea, lost in deep thought. His eyebrows were furrowed, gravity haunting his aged features.
"Ah." He stood as they entered. "I hope you'll forgive my early arrival. Given the nature of our recent communication, I fear we shouldn't waste a moment. Ms. Granger, Ms. Lovegood — it's always a pleasure."
Sirius lifted his Disillusionment charm.
Albus smiled warmly. "Sirius. Thank you for your note. Though I feel some apprehension when you leave the safety of your home, in this case I'm certain it was the right decision."
Sirius gave a half-nod. "Thanks for coming, Albus. We need your help, actually on more than one front."
For nearly an hour they discussed Luna's vision. Dumbledore followed her every word carefully. Initially he asked her for a full, uninterrupted telling of the vision, requesting that she include every detail she could recall. After a first account, he then worked with her scene by scene, asking dozens of questions about each. As Luna recounted the Wizengamot trial a second time, the nature of his questions shifted distinctly. He asked for detailed descriptions of each wizard in Luna's field of vision, their most distinctive features, whether they seemed angry, afraid, or elated. He asked especially about the expression he was wearing, and that of Harry's. He asked how Harry was bound, and to what.
Finally, Dumbledore admitted he could think of no further questions. He then drew the tip of his wand to his temple, withdrawing a silvery wisp of a memory and depositing it in a small glass vial for later recollection.
The conversation shifted as Hermione recounted the plan that she, Luna, and Harry had developed, and what they'd done to prepare.
"My." He reflected, smiling kindly with gentle pride. "In my many years as an educator of young witches and wizards, I've never been so impressed."
Hermione tucked a chestnut curl behind her left ear, positively beaming.
"I dare say your plan is flawless. Perfectly executed, it will accomplish what you seek."
His brow furrowed. "Death, indeed in any form, is sincerely regrettable. Dark creatures like these, however, have become themselves blind instruments of death, and are perhaps beyond redemption."
He paused, just briefly. After a moment, he returned his kind gaze to the children. "Considering accounts of the Thracian Sorcerers in the Byzantine War was a stroke of sheer brilliance. I'm pleased to hear of Harry's recent mastery of the spell. If I may, I'd like to lend my support in the fabrication of the Tutela Animea ward. This will be my ninth cast of this extraordinarily useful protection, which is to say my eighth opportunity to learn from my many mistakes."
Elated, they agreed immediately. This was the one aspect of their plan which they had no direct influence over, and they'd learned mid-morning that Sirius, who was certainly willing to try, had very little experience casting wards in his past.
They'd just started discussing the potion when Luna noticed steaming pots of Beef & Ale Stew had appeared on the dining table, surrounded by baskets full of crusty bread and plates of butter.
They spent the final moments of dusk attempting to identify, as nearly as possible, the alleyway referenced in the vision. They'd narrowed the field of possibilities to two alleys, running perpendicular to one another nearly a half block from the Dursleys' home. Harry had occasionally taken each as alternative routes back to the house from the nearby play park or primary school in attempts to avoid Dudley and his cronies.
Dumbledore suggested the ward be cast at the intersection of these alleyways to grant Harry ready access from both directions.
After they all agreed, Harry, Hermione, Luna and a large, black dog sat leaning against a weathered fence, beholding a spectacular display of magic. Dumbledore flawlessly cast Tutela Animea, projecting a protective ward sixty-five yards wide. They stood within it, awestruck as the magical echoes subsided.
Luna smiled distantly. "Amazing."
Sirius, Hermione, and Dumbledore left before ten, exhausted after a long day's preparation.
Luna stood at Harry's side behind the open front door of his home, her fingers laced between his. After seeing off their friends, Harry led her to the overstuffed crimson sofa at the center of his living room, threw himself full upon it, and pulled her playfully beside him. She giggled, curled into him, lay her head on his chest, and they talked for hours.
"Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Why do you suppose Dementor's exist?"
A moment's hesitation.
"Why? You mean…" An awkward pause. "...why do they exist?
"Yes."
"I don't guess I've ever thought about it." A moment's delay. "Why does anything exist?"
"Yes. That's precisely what I mean to ask."
He stumbled. "I… do you… I mean, do you suppose there's an answer?"
"Of course."
A moment later.
"I suppose I do, too."
She nodded. "What do you suppose is the answer, Harry Potter?"
"I'm not sure that matters. Guessing seems audacious, and knowing seems impossible."
She traced his fingers with hers. "If there is an answer, we're meant to find it."
"What do you mean?"
She wiggled her toes. "If there's at all an answer, the mere existence of that answer implies a purpose. And a purpose implies a mind. And a mind that finds purpose in the existence of another mind implies a relationship."
"A mind?"
"If there's an answer at all. Yes."
A moment later. "I'm not sure I'm fond of a mind who finds purpose in Dementors."
Luna nodded. "I understand."
"Why do you suppose Dementor's exist?"
A pause.
"If there is an answer to the question at all, and if there is a purpose, and if there is a mind?"
He nodded.
"My sincerest hope?"
He nodded.
"I think they exist because something, somewhere, went wrong."
He nodded.
A moment later. "Harry?"
"Yes, darling?"
"Are you afraid of what's coming?"
"Do you mean the Dementors?"
"Yes, but beyond that also."
"I'm not afraid. Not of the Dementors, really, or of the Aurors, or of the Wizengamot. I'm not even afraid of Voldemort." A pause. "Not directly, anyway." A breath. "I'm afraid of me. I'm afraid I'll fail."
"You're afraid you'll fail?"
"Yes." A second's hesitation. "I'm not who people think I am. I know who I am. And I'm afraid I'm not enough."
"Harry?"
"Yes, Luna."
"I trust you. And I wouldn't have anyone else standing between me and the darkness. Do you know why?"
He shook his head.
"Not because you're brilliant. Not because you're courageous. Not because you're strong. It's because you're good." A long pause. "You're good, Harry Potter. And that's all that matters."
He softly kissed her forehead.
"Luna?"
"Yes?"
"Are you afraid of what's coming?"
She shook her head. "I was." A pause. "But then I met you."
Harry woke a few hours later, Luna's body curled into his. She was softly breathing, her palm laid on his chest. He traced the soft contours of her side and hip, dragging the tips of his fingers lightly until she stirred.
The beginnings of a smile were overtaken by a wide yawn as her eyes blinked open. She shifted, angling her body in a lean stretch, finally settling again on his shoulder, her right leg laid between his, her toes playing with the arches of his feet.
"Hi."
"Hi."
She tightened her grip on his chest, pulled him closer. "Harry Potter, I never want to leave you and it's becoming a problem."
He laughed. "I really like you, Luna. You know you don't have to leave."
She groaned playfully. "I know… but propriety demands I preserve at least a bit of distance."
Harry shook his left fist above his chest. "Damn you, Propriety."
"Plus, Hermione will be here in the morning and she'd just know. I'm nearly certain she knew we spent time together in your bed last night — though I've no idea how. She gave me the most playfully mocking smirk as soon as I sat at the table this morning."
"Yeah?" Harry chuckled. "I wouldn't worry about it, Luna. She's quite progressive. Also she just adores you."
Luna was taken aback. "You think she likes me? Oh I hope so, Harry Potter. She's brilliant and she's kind and she's so dear to you. I desperately desire her friendship."
Harry kissed her forehead. "She likes you. How could she not?"
Luna smiled. "There are many ways, and my peers have discovered them all." She pivoted her body, kissed him softly. "But I adore you for thinking it."
He returned her kiss, then huffed. "I suppose the gentlemanly thing to do would be to walk you home?"
She smirked flirtatiously. "Pardon me while I reflect for a moment on all the ungentlemanly things you might do instead."
He laughed, helped her up, laced her fingers between his, and led her reluctantly out the door toward the far hedge of the local primary school. She reached for the rusted tin can, punctured on one end with a thread of loose string attached.
"Harry?" Her piercing gaze met his, held him captive. She brought his hand to her lips, kissed his knuckles softly. "I've never been happier than I am right now."
He smiled with kind eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow, Luna Lovegood."
"Home."
After a quick shower, Harry fell into bed and slept uninterrupted until nearly nine the next morning. He blinked slowly awake, pivoted to the edge of the bed, and stretched in the stillness. Within ten minutes, he was dressed in a navy v-neck tee, a pair of faded jeans, and dark grey trainers.
Hermione and Luna arrived within a half hour, and they enjoyed a leisurely breakfast together. Luna asked Hermione questions about her family, her life as a muggle, what it was like to discover magic, and her transition into the magical world. Hermione's stories, playfully highlighting the more awkward moments of transition from the muggle to the magical world, had them laughing together for nearly an hour.
By mid-morning, it occurred to them that — at least as far as the looming Dementor attack — there wasn't much preparation left to be done. So they chose to return to Luna's home and show Hermione the small handful of spells they'd mastered since they began exploring the Potter Library.
They lunched at Luna's, and spent the afternoon in Luna's library. If there had been any doubt of Hermione's sincere affection for Luna, it was dispelled as soon as she recalled her first few shelves of topically arranged titles.
Hermione's parents were hosting colleagues for dinner, and she'd been asked to attend, so they headed back to Harry's around five. As soon as she'd departed, heaps of Biriyani, massive bowls of Paneer Butter Masala, and broad platters of Samosa Chaat and Buttered Naan appeared on the dining table.
After dinner they sat in the reading nook of Harry's loft. They brought books with them, which they immediately set them aside. Harry and Luna talked for hours about anything that occurred to them. Around ten he walked her to the far hedge of the local primary school. They kissed, and a moment later she was gone.
Less than an hour later, Harry Potter laid down in his four-poster, fighting the looming fear that whatever happened tomorrow would change his life forever.