A/N: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.

The following morning found Harry in deep contemplation, as was common for him on mornings with little activity and one too many thoughts knocking about the inside of his skull.

The All Hallows Inn lay firmly wrapped in its familiar hush, the embers in the fireplace aglow with dim sparks, casting feeble shadows that were soon drowned beneath the rays of sunlight filtering in through the windows.

Harry stood behind the bar, absently running a cloth over a clean glass, as if attempting to wipe away thoughts instead of dust. The conversation with Hermione yet lingered in the recesses of his mind, having lodged itself most firmly in both his conscious and subconscious. It was a frustrating ordeal - to be forced to relive a memory again and again, without reprieve. Forced to explore possibilities that would never come to pass, for the moment they belonged to now resided in history.

As such, there was only one course of action yet available to Harry - which just so happened to be the very same course of action that any self-respecting bartender at the crack of dawn would turn to in such times.

He reached for the Firewhiskey.

But just as he poured himself a measure, the door creaked open, and with it came a whisper of autumn's breath.

"Hello, Harry," the voice said, airy and light.

His hand froze mid-motion, the amber liquid trembling in the glass. He knew that voice.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze, and there she was - Luna Lovegood, standing in the threshold of his sanctuary of solitude. Her hair, still the same ethereal blonde, cascaded over her shoulders like moonlight caught in motion. She wore a deep blue traveling cloak, speckled with flecks of what could have been stardust, or simply the remnants of a long journey.

For the passing of a heartbeat, they stared at each other. Then, as if she had merely stepped out for a moment and not years, she walked towards the bar and settled onto a stool with graceful ease.

"I had a feeling I would find you here," she mused, placing her hands neatly on the counter. "Well, not a feeling, exactly. More of a hunch. Or perhaps a whisper from the wrackspurts."

Harry huffed a small chuckle despite himself. "Still the same, then."

"Oh no, I've changed quite a bit, I think," Luna replied, tilting her head as she studied him. "I don't believe it's possible to avoid, sadly. Please let me know if you find a way. I'd like to stop growing gray hairs, please."

He looked away, swirling the firewhisky in his glass before taking a slow sip. "It's good to see you again."

Luna nodded, as if he had just confirmed something she had long suspected. "You know, disappearing is a funny thing. Sometimes, the more you try, the more the world notices you're missing."

Harry let slip a breath, setting his glass down. "Is that why you're here? To notice me?"

"No," she said. "I came because I missed you."

That gave him pause. People rarely said things like that to him anymore - at least not without expectation tied to it. But Luna had always been different. She was one of the few who saw beyond the legend, beyond the burden - beyond the scars. It was one of her many gifts.

"What will it be?" he asked instead, changing the subject.

Luna tapped a finger to her chin, considering. "Something warm. And sweet. With just a hint of adventure."

Harry smirked. "You always were impossible."

"Yes, but I think you like that about me."

Shaking his head, he moved to the small selection of spirits behind the bar. He worked in silence, mixing honey and cinnamon with a touch of brandy, heating it just enough to let the flavors meld. When he set the steaming mug before her, Luna took it with both hands, as though cradling something precious.

She took a careful sip, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before she sighed in satisfaction. "Mmm. Tastes like autumn mornings and sweetened parchment."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's quite the review."

Luna opened her eyes again, and they shone with something deep and knowing. "I like this place. Hermione made it sound so depressing."

His fingers tightened around his glass. "Oh… She sent you."

"No," Luna said. "She didn't. But she did come to see me, before she came to see you. And she told me what she's afraid of."

Harry exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "I already told her, I'm out."

"I know," Luna said, sipping her drink again. "But do you believe that?"

Harry blinked at her. "What do you mean?"

Luna set her mug down, fingers tracing the rim in absent thought. "You keep saying you're done, Harry. That you've given enough. But your eyes tell a different story. They're waiting."

"Oh, yeah? Waiting for what, exactly?"

"For something worth waking up for."

A silence settled between them, not uncomfortable, but laden with unspoken truth. Luna, with all her strange wisdom, had cut through him in a way few ever could.

She tilted her head, as if listening to something distant. Then she smiled, gentle and full of understanding. "There are things moving in the world again, Harry. Shadows shifting in places they shouldn't be. And while Hermione sees it as duty, and Ron as trouble, I see it for what it is."

"And what would that be?" he asked.

Her smile deepened. "A story beginning anew."

Harry snorted out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "I'm tired of stories."

"Then don't make it one," Luna said simply. "Make it a choice instead."

He stared at her for a long time, his mind warring between the quiet he had built for himself and the call of something more. Something he had buried. Something he had lost.

Alas, he was not afforded the opportunity to speak on it. For just as he was about to open his mouth, the door creaked again, and suddenly, there was a new figure amongst them, silhouetted against the morning light.

"Oh, finally!" the figure said, with palpable relief. "There you are, Luna! I've been looking all over for you."

"Hello, husband," Luna said, without turning.

Neville Longbottom stepped into the inn with firm determination, shaking the lingering chill of the autumn morning from his traveling cloak. His expression was torn between exasperation and fond amusement, the kind of look one wore when well accustomed to a loved one's peculiar tendencies. He brushed a hand through his slightly disheveled brown hair, eyes landing first on Luna, then shifting to Harry with something akin to quiet recognition.

"Harry," Neville greeted with a small nod.

Harry set down his glass, taking in the sight of his old friend. The years had broadened Neville's shoulders and added a few lines to his face, but there was still something undeniably steadfast about him - grounded, like the roots of the plants he tended.

"Neville," Harry returned, voice measured. "Bit early for a visit, isn't it?"

"Not when you're chasing down a wife who disappears before sunrise," Neville replied dryly, moving toward the bar. He glanced at Luna, who was now twirling a lock of hair between her fingers, entirely unbothered by the fact that she had, apparently, wandered off without notice.

"I told you I was going for a walk," she said. "You must have misunderstood."

"You said you were going to check on the moon lilies," Neville countered. "Not travel halfway across the country."

Luna hummed. "Yes, well… One thing led to another."

Harry, despite himself, let slip a quiet chuckle. Some things never changed.

Neville sighed and rubbed his forehead. "You could have at least told me you were coming here."

"I didn't know I was," Luna replied. "Not at first, anyway. But then the idea of seeing Harry rather insisted upon itself, and I do try to listen when something insists."

She leveled a perceptive gaze upon him then, her eyes strangely lucid. "It's rather convenient, don't you think? Hermione came to see me, and then suddenly, here I am. And now Neville is here too. As if the universe is arranging the pieces just so."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You're starting to sound an awful lot like Hermione."

Neville's easygoing demeanor shifted at that, the shadow of something indiscernible flickering across his face. Harry caught it immediately.

"Oh, let me guess," he sighed. "You've heard something too."

Neville exhaled slowly, leaning against the bar. "I don't know what I've heard. Just… whispers, mostly. Unsettling ones."

Luna nodded, as if she had expected as much. "The world hums when change is abound," she said. "And it's humming quite loudly now."

Harry tapped his fingers against the wood of the counter, irritation creeping into his voice. "If there's something to be said, then say it. I'm not interested in riddles."

Neville and Luna exchanged a look - one of those wordless conversations built over years of intimate trust. Then Neville sighed.

"There's been an incident," he said. "At Hogwarts."

Harry stiffened.

"What kind of incident?"

Neville hesitated, then shook his head. "Not here." His eyes flicked over the empty chairs of the inn, taking in the hollow spaces with some apprehension. "Somewhere private."

"This is private," Harry said with a frown. "Can't see anyone else in here, can you?"

Neville's lips pressed into a thin line, his fingers drumming against the worn surface of the bar. "Not private enough."

That, more than anything, set Harry's teeth on edge. Neville had never been the type to play things close to the chest. He was direct - stubbornly so. If he was not willing to say it outright, it meant that whatever had happened was serious.

As such, Harry had no choice but to grumble his reluctant assent, tilting his head toward the back room. "Fine. This way."

Luna slid gracefully off her stool, collecting her mug as if they were merely stepping into another part of the conversation rather than something altogether heavier. Neville followed with quiet resolve, and as they passed through the wooden doorway into Harry's private quarters, the weight of unspoken things settled thick in the air between them.

The room was small but comfortable - more of a retreat than a living space. A modest fireplace stood against stone walls, books were stacked haphazardly on the shelves, and a few odd trinkets lay scattered about. It was the kind of space that had been shaped over time rather than designed with intent.

Harry shut the door behind them. "Alright," he said, crossing his arms. "Talk."

Neville glanced at Luna, who nodded as if granting him some unspoken permission. He turned back to Harry. "Two nights ago, something happened at the castle. A student - fourth year, Gryffindor - disappeared from her dormitory."

Harry frowned. "Disappeared? As in, left on her own?"

Neville shook his head. "No. As in, vanished without a trace. No signs of struggle, no disturbances in the wards. One moment, she was in bed, the next… gone."

A chill threaded through Harry's spine. "And no one saw anything?"

"Not a thing," Neville said. "Her roommates woke up the next morning, and she just… wasn't there."

Harry's mind ticked through the possibilities. Portkeys. Disillusionment Charms. House-elf interference. But Hogwarts was designed to prevent those kinds of things - especially within the dormitories. "You're sure it wasn't just some prank? A hidden passage?"

Neville ran a hand through his hair. "Filch and the ghosts have been scouring the castle. If she left on her own, there'd be signs of it. There's nothing." He hesitated, then added, "And then there's the message."

Harry stilled. "Message?"

Neville reached into his cloak and pulled out a small, folded parchment. He handed it to Harry, who unfolded it with care.

The ink was dark and precise, the handwriting unfamiliar.

"The first is taken. The rest will follow. The debt is owed."

Harry stared at the words, his jaw tightening.

Neville's voice was quiet. "I don't know what it means, but I know it can't be anything good."

Luna, who had been silent up until now, traced the rim of her mug absentmindedly. "Debts are curious things," she said. "They tend to linger long after those who made them are gone."

Harry glanced at her. "You think this is connected to the past?"

Luna met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "Everything is connected to the past. Even this very moment."

Harry exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around the parchment. This was not just some missing-persons case. This was deliberate. Calculated.

A call to action.

But Harry played the role of the Auror no longer. He had left that life behind, many years ago. These days, he was just a simple bartender, pouring drinks and listening to stories. And bartenders did not set out on epic quests to solve cases, no matter the plight of the ones involved.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, looking at Neville and Luna in turn. "But I can't help you. This should be taken to the Ministry, not me."

"The Ministry is already involved," Neville said. "But even with Hermione in charge, they're slow to act, and weighed down by legislation and regulations. We don't need them right now, Harry. We need you."

A powerful statement, if ever there was one. He rubbed a hand over his face, his thoughts in shambles. He could feel the old instincts creeping back, the part of him that had spent years chasing shadows and uncovering truths. But he had buried that part of himself. He had to.

"You're asking the wrong person," he said, defiant to the last. "There are people better suited for this. Kingsley, the Hit Wizards… Hell, even Malfoy has connections these days. But not me."

Neville clenched his jaw. "You really think we haven't tried that? They're already working the case, Harry. But it's too much for them to handle. Because this isn't just about one missing student."

Something in his tone sent a chill through Harry. "What do you mean?"

Neville exchanged another look with Luna, and this time, there was something heavier there. Something altogether darker.

"Because," Neville said, "four more students have also gone missing. All from Hogwarts. And no one knows how, or why."

Harry felt his stomach drop.

Luna took a slow, meandering sip, finishing off the last of her drink. "The world is humming, Harry," she said again, more quietly now. "And the tune is not a pleasant one."

Silence settled between them, heavy and unrelenting. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, the only sound breaking the stillness. Harry swallowed, his fingers drumming against his legs as the weight of their words weighed down upon him.

Four more students.

That was no coincidence.

That was a pattern.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to stay detached. He had fought his battles. He had given enough. He had sworn to never again be pulled back into that abyss.

But the problem with running from the past was that it had a nasty tendency of finding you in the end.

He opened his eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet, but certain. "Tell me everything you know."

A/N: So... I return once more.

Turns out, I am not good at letting sleeping dogs lie. Especially not when said sleeping dogs come in the form of my own ideas, refusing to leave me alone.

As was the case last time, I wrote this chapter in a single day. Why is anyone's guess. It seems to be the way I do things with this story, which is interesting in its own right. I tend to spend weeks, if not months, on any single chapter. Maybe there's something in the water around here.

In case you're feeling worried about the sudden resurgence of Harry's Auror instincts, I promise he's not going to abandon his life as a bartender. This story is supposed to be about the All Hallows Inn, after all, and that would work quite poorly indeed if the proprietor of said establishment went off on some crime-fighting spree to save the Wizarding World. No, Harry will remain a bartender. But maybe a bartender with a slight penchant for Dark Wizard investigation.

As always, I have no idea when the next chapter will be released. Whenever the muse strikes, I suppose. But said muse can certainly be inspired to action by loving words and nods of approval (read: Follows / Favorites / Kudos / Comments). So until such a time as our paths happen to cross again... take care of yourself, and each other. Bye for now.

- Twisted