"I'm not going in there, no way!" Hermione Granger quietly but urgently whispered to her companion as they neared the doors to Daphne's office. "Do you have any idea what happened to me the last time I tried to break in there?!" she asked, her voice shaking and her lip trembling.

Luna looked at her with sympathy. "Daphne won't know. And even if she did, she'd forgive us," she said with conviction.

However, Hermione wasn't convinced. "Like hell she would! Maybe Daphne would forgive you. You're a pureblood, after all. But me? Daphne only just let me out of a prison cell. I still don't even have my wand! If I break into her office again, I'm done for, Luna. No more chances," the muggleborn witch insisted. "Besides, she would most certainly know. She has wards and security spells in there... and I bet there are at least a dozen tracking charms on me right now!"

"There are only eight," Luna corrected her after carefully looking Hermione over.

Hermione shook her head, not at all relieved by that information. "Well, I'm not going in there. I can't!" she muttered before her brown eyes focused on Luna and she spoke with growing frustration. "Besides, you still haven't told me what's so bloody important in there that it's worth risking my life and freedom."

"It's absolutely necessary that we get inside," Luna repeated the same answer she had given earlier, her expression dreamy.

At her response, Hermione stared at her like she was crazy – or at least that's what Luna assumed the look meant. People had been giving her that expression far too often over the years, just because she couldn't explain how she knew what she knew. Finally, Hermione's expression shifted to sad disappointment as she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Luna. But I just don't see the things you do," she said, at least acknowledging the possibility Luna wasn't crazy. "You're going to need to tell me more than that."

"Your hair looks really lovely," Luna told her in response, causing Hermione to gape at her before her face flushed with embarrassment. Luna wasn't sure why, as it was the truth – the top section of her wild mane was swept back gracefully, secured with a delicate silver comb etched with intricate swirls that caught the light. The rest of her hair tumbled freely down her back, its natural volume and texture giving her an effortless elegance.

"Thank you," Hermione replied, her face still warm with embarrassment. "I've been trying some... some new spells," she admitted, briefly touching her hair to check it was still just the way she wanted it. For some reason, she didn't sound happy about the admission, which struck Luna as odd. Perhaps Hermione's emotional responses were reversed somehow! Luna made a mental note to try that herself sometime – it sounded like a fun experiment.

"Can I try them?" Luna eagerly asked, but Hermione frowned again, making Luna even more certain her friend had her emotional responses scrambled.

"Sorry," Hermione said with a shrug. "Apparently, they only work on muggleborns." Her voice was tinged with bitterness, though Luna missed that entirely, instead focusing on the deep sense of injustice she sensed behind her friend's words.

"That is so unfair!" Luna declared with conviction. It was indeed completely unfair others couldn't use the spells Hermione had used to make her hair so pretty. She fully shared her friend's outrage about it.

"Yeah, well... LUNA!" Hermione suddenly cried out, snapping out of her thoughts as if waking from a fog. "Tell me why we're breaking into Daphne's office, or I'm walking away right now!"

"We're not breaking in. We're walking in," Luna corrected her.

"She has wards, security spells..." Hermione tried again, exasperated.

"It doesn't matter," Luna dismissed her concern. "It has to be done. Everything depends on it."

Hermione shook her head, taking a step back. "I can't... I can't do it, Luna. I can't stand up to her. I'm never going against Daphne Greengrass again!" she declared, and at her words, something seemed to shift within her, causing her to almost lose her balance.

Luna surged forward, reaching out to steady Hermione. "It's alright," she said softly, her hands resting on Hermione's arms before pulling her into a hug. "You don't have to. Stay here, then. Shout if someone comes by," Luna suggested, even as she guided Hermione to a nearby ottoman positioned in the hallway just outside Daphne's office. Of course, Luna knew nobody was going to come by, but she felt it was important to let Hermione feel she was doing something. Especially now that Harry, Daphne and Ron all went off to fight, leaving her behind.

"O-okay," Hermione finally spoke after a while, her breathing evening out as she calmed down. "I can do that, I suppose. I still think this is a huge mistake, but... you do what you have to do," she added, offering Luna a weak smile.

With one last encouraging smile and a gentle stroke of Hermione's cheek, Luna turned around and approached the doors to Daphne's office.

Getting inside the office was trivial. Luna simply put her hand on the door handle, opened it, and walked in, closing the door behind her.

Hermione had been absolutely correct that there were many magical protections and wards guarding this room against uninvited guests. But what people often failed to understand was that such protections weren't absolute – there was always the possibility of failure. In the case of the high-quality, multi-layered wards the Greengrass family utilized, the chance might have been one in a trillion, but it was still non-zero.

Well, at this exact moment, every single ward guarding Daphne's inner sanctum just happened to briefly malfunction at the same time, allowing Luna to walk in without any of them making so much as a peep.

Some might call it an amazing coincidence. In Luna's opinion, what people called coincidences was simply magic. She wasn't entirely sure whether magic had a will or why it wanted her to go into Daphne's office. At times, she wasn't even sure magic really existed. All Luna knew were the whispers.

Ever since her mama had died, she'd been hearing the whispers. Only, hearing wasn't quite the right word. It was more like the memory of hearing something, but with the memory forming without there ever being any sound in the first place. She could still remember the day it started – her mama performing the ritual to open her inner eyes. The chaotic magic surged within the magical circle her mama had drawn, assessing her worth, only to detect a far more suitable host nearby – a little girl playing and drawing on the other side of the house.

What was age, life and death to magic? Magic was beyond such concepts. Magic was might, and it made its choice, surging forward toward the little girl, not caring her mama was standing in the way as it pierced her heart.

And that was when the whispers first began. Luna didn't hear them all the time, of course. Most of the time, magic didn't seem to care what she did. At other times, she couldn't make out what it was saying, suggesting it wasn't important. But sometimes, magic spoke to her more clearly, with varying degrees of urgency, asking her to do things that often made no sense to her human mind. At first Luna didn't understand as she was too little, and later she even blamed magic for taking her mama away and refused to listen to it.

But she eventually learned it wasn't a good idea to ignore the whispers. Bad things happened as a result – things she realized, in hindsight, she could have prevented by doing what was asked of her. And so, over the years, Luna found herself doing or saying many strange things that made her look crazy in front of others... all because magic whispered to her.

That was how she now found herself standing in front of Daphne's desk. For two days, she had been hearing the whispers... only at this point, they were no longer whispers but a deafening shriek, far stronger than anything she'd ever experienced. Normally, there was no human emotion behind the things magic asked her to do. But this time, Luna could have sworn she heard it – magic was crying out in agony.

The screams were so intense almost everyone in Greengrass manor felt their effects even if they couldn't understand, including Harry and Daphne. It made them restless and uneasy, though they mistakenly attributed it to nerves about the battle ahead.

The battle against the dark lord was important, Luna knew that. But so was what she had to do. She looked over Daphne's desk – the many important items and documents scattered across it, as well as the powerful objects locked within the various drawers. It was ironic and incomprehensible what magic was asking her to do with such urgency, but Luna had long since stopped trying to understand.

Why had magic once asked her to go to a deserted mountain pass in the Pamir Mountains, only to pick up a sharp rock lying there and throw it a few meters away?

A moment later, Luna knelt and lay down on the floor, angling her head to clearly observe one of the legs of Daphne's office desk. She then pointed her wand at it and whispered a permanent levitation spell, lifting the desk less than an inch off the ground, taking great care not to disturb any of the items on its surface. With that done, Luna pulled a magically enhanced rasp from her robes and began carefully filing away at the top left corner of the desk leg, causing tiny splinters and wood chips to fall away. Once she sensed enough was done, she used her wand to vanish the debris and mask the damage, making the surface look seamless. Then, she gently lowered the desk back to the ground, again taking extreme care not to disturb anything.

She stood up and examined her work. It was not obvious at all and probably impossible to tell without measuring it with magic, but Daphne's office desk was now very slightly imbalanced. Luna didn't understand why it was necessary. Why the fate of the world seemed to depend on Daphne's desk being slightly out of balance. But magic was no longer screaming in agony, so she turned and began walking away, back to where a frantic Hermione was waiting outside. Even asking Hermione to come with her, despite knowing she'd refuse to enter, had been important somehow.

'And not even a thank you,' Luna thought at the now-absent whispers. Compared to the earlier shrieking, it was almost as though magic was purring contentedly. To her surprise, she heard a response for the very first time.

"Thank you, Luna."

Luna smiled at that. It reminded her of her mama's voice.

Bored in New York City.

It was certainly a novel experience for Astoria Greengrass. Spending summers with her grandmother had always been an amazing adventure. It was vastly different from Greengrass Manor, but her grandmother's skyscraper still offered every luxury she could desire. In addition, she could travel to the many Astor properties around New England, enjoying activities like horseback riding, which she loved. Together with her cousins, she would also embark on great trips across America.

But it wasn't summer now. All her cousins and friends were in school or otherwise occupied. This left Astoria with few activities to distract herself, and they quickly became tedious. After all, there was only so much shopping one could do before the appeal wore thin. As a result, Astoria spent most of her time with her grandma and mom – which wasn't bad at all, but it left her feeling restless nonetheless.

It wasn't that she was uncomfortable. Her grandmother had welcomed them with open arms. At the moment, Astoria stood in the penthouse of a skyscraper owned by her grandmother's family. Overlooking Central Park, it was the pride and envy of magical New York. Through the window, Astoria could see muggles and their vehicles moving chaotically along the streets, the afternoon rush hour just beginning. From this height, they looked like ants, except far less organized.

Purebloods had always considered muggles chaotic and aimless, and Astoria had to admit it was easy to see why. Muggles, especially adults, seemed constantly stressed, always rushing somewhere and never stopping. 'It's all about infrastructure,' Astoria thought as she observed the streets below. She believed the nature of their existence simply didn't allow muggles to be anything but rushed, frustrated creatures. Not because they were naturally inferior to wizards and witches, but because, unlike magical people, muggles lacked effective instantaneous means of personal transportation.

As a result, muggles seemed to spend half their already short lives scrambling to get somewhere instead of actually living. Astoria felt a pang of pity for them, especially since muggles seemed aware of this futility. They were always trying to compensate by improving their technology. But if the chaos outside was any indication, it wasn't helping at all. The distances they traveled kept increasing along with their technology, and their stress and frustration only seemed to grow.

Astoria sighed and turned away from the window. Her grandmother was seated nearby in a chair, calmly reading a book. Her mother had gone out to meet a friend that afternoon, leaving the two of them alone in the penthouse.

"Nana... I'm bored," she complained, her tone petulant.

Eleanor Greengrass, née Astor, didn't look up as she turned a page. "I'm sorry to hear that, sweetheart," she replied. It seemed like that was all she was going to say, but then she added, "You could always spend some time thinking about what your sister is doing right now," she suggested with complete seriousness, causing Astoria's mouth to snap shut and her lip to tremble.

If there was one thing to be said about her grandmother, it was that she had a sharp tongue. Some thought her cruel or callous because of it, but she was neither. Eleanor was fiercely loyal to reality, even when her words left a bittersweet echo in their wake. Always be loyal and honest to yourself… even if you aren't to anybody else. Finally, the older woman looked up at her granddaughter. "Why don't you say what's really on your mind, honey?"

Astoria sighed and took a deep breath before answering in a trembling voice. "D-Daphne, Harry… they could be fighting for their lives right now. And I'm here doing nothing. I can't stand it!" she admitted, holding back tears. She missed them all so much – Daphne, Harry, Ron… and Draco. She desperately wished Draco could hold her right now. Hell at this point, she'd even endure Hermione Granger's annoying rants if it meant feeling the familiarity of home and ridding herself of this cast-adrift sensation.

"It's never easy when those you love leave you behind," her grandmother said sympathetically, reminding Astoria of the Astor family members who had fought and fallen in various wars.

"H-how do you stand it? How do you stand doing nothing?" Astoria asked, hoping her grandmother had some magical advice to make her feel better. She often had in the past, so why not now?

Her grandmother raised an eyebrow. "And who says I'm doing nothing, sweetheart?"

Astoria frowned in confusion. "You're sitting here, reading a book!" she pointed out.

In response, her grandmother closed the book with a loud clap and handed it to her. "ICW regulations?" Astoria read the title with a frown. It was certainly a far cry from the romantic novels her grandmother usually preferred.

"Daphne's plan is solid, but I fear she might be underestimating the international repercussions of what she's about to do," her grandmother explained. "I intend to rectify that."

Astoria sat down, processing the information. "You'll try to convince the ICW to provide aid against the dark lord?" she asked, hope lighting her eyes.

Eleanor shook her head. "No… I will convince the ICW to assemble a task force against the halfblood bastard who got my son killed," she hissed, and Astoria's eyes widened. It was the first time her grandmother had spoken about the matter since her father's funeral.

"But I thought..." Astoria began, confused.

"You thought what, honey?" the elder woman interrupted. "That I'd let it slide?! Oh, no," she chuckled darkly. "I've been thinking about revenge ever since I learned what happened to my Erik! The only reason I haven't acted is because I thought it'd mean fighting against my own granddaughter. But now that Harry Potter, bless that halfblood, has made Daphne see reason…" she trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

Astoria nodded, understanding. "What are you going to do?" she asked eagerly. "And how can I help?"

Eleanor smirked. "Michael invited me to a small reception tonight… and I want you to come with me. Officially, you'll be there to thank him for the entry parole."

"You mean Mr. President," Astoria automatically corrected. Like many in her family, she felt uneasy about how close her grandmother was to the current President of MACUSA, even if it was useful at times.

Her grandmother waved the comment away. "Yes, yes… in any case, the Supreme Mugwump will also happen to be in attendance," she continued.

"What an amazing coincidence," Astoria muttered, rolling her eyes. "So, what do you want me to do?"

"Be honest. Don't reveal anything about Daphne's plans, but when the conversation turns that way, tell them what's been happening in Britain. You're a young girl who's been hurt… few men have the heart to dismiss that. Just speak from the heart, honey," her grandmother instructed.

Astoria smiled. "I can do that," she agreed before asking, "What about Mom? Will she be there too?"

"Your mother's already invited, I expect. That old friend she's meeting today? She happens to be the Supreme Mugwump's wife," Eleanor explained.

"Another amazing coincidence!" Astoria exclaimed, laughing.

Her grandmother smiled at her enthusiasm. "Yes. Coincidences happen every day, sweetheart."

The two women discussed their unexpected evening plans a bit longer before her grandmother declared it was time to get ready. "I believe you've bought out all the magical clothes in this city. I'm sure there's something appropriate in your collection," she commented, making Astoria blush. To be honest, her grandmother was probably right. In retrospect, she really had been stress shopping a lot.

Just as they were about to leave, a young man dressed in a very expensive suit entered the room.

"Sam!" Astoria cried happily, giving him a big smile.

Samuel Astor, the designated heir of the Astor family, smiled and approached her. "Hello, Tori," he said kindly, hugging her and kissing her cheek. Sam was ten years older than her, but the two were good friends, having spent a lot of time together over the years. Namely, during her numerous summer trips around America with her cousins and friends, Sam would be made to act as their adult chaperone. In retrospect, Astoria was honestly surprised they were still friends as taking care of a gaggle of kids, and mostly girls at that, couldn't have been fun for the young man. Fortunately, Sam took it all in stride.

"Father heard about the tonight's reception, Aunt," Sam then said, turning to address her grandmother. "He asked me to be your escort."

"What a caring brother I have," Eleanor Greengrass declared bitingly, instantly recognizing the seemingly polite gesture as nothing more than an attempt to keep her in line. Astoria's granduncle, the current Lord Astor, was a strange man, his relationship with his older sister complicated. Especially since Eleanor became a widow and decided to return back to America. Since then, her brother was heard saying several times he had felt a major disturbance in the force on that day. He also insisted that with her tendency to speak up her mind, his sister was as subtle as a Balrog.

Astoria had no idea what the Force or a Balrog were, solidifying her granduncle's oddness in her mind. Regardless, she wasn't worried. She knew Sam would be on their side once she explained everything.

"Shall we?" the young man asked with a smile and offered his arm to her after her grandmother politely rejected it. Astoria took it happily and together they walked toward the dressing rooms.