I open my eyes and the world is blurred.

It is a while before I realize I am in pain, though exactly how long it took I don’t think I could ever know. It is an ever longer time before I realize I am not quite awake, but it doesn’t take long at all before I realize I am alone.

I lay there for a few moments, wondering why on earth my face feels so warm. Maybe the girls in my dormitory are playing a trick on me. Usually people leave me alone because everyone knows I am friends with Ginny Weasley. No, I am alone, as I previously established. So there must be some other explanation.

I’m just too warm, too cozy, to get up. I think I will just lie here for a bit. Yes, that’ll do. I’ll just lie here…

SHRIIIEEEEK!

My head shoots up (painfully, I might add) and that’s when I know I am no longer in my Hogwarts dormitory.

All around me is grass. In fact, I am lying in grass. I am sleeping in grass. I am practically breathing grass. Whoever saw so much green, green grass? And the sun! Wow! My skin is almost drinking in the sunlight!

I look around a bit more. I am in a grass field, and it is certainly wild. I can’t see any signs that this long, long grass has ever been cut. And there are no fences, definitely no houses, and not an animal in sight.

But if there are no animals, then where did the shriek come from?

SHRIIIEEEEK!

Again with the shrieking! Where on Earth--? Another swivel of my head provides me the knowledge that there is a brown leather knapsack on the ground, hardly two feet away from me. Another piercing shriek fills the air around me and the flap of the bag flies open, then closed as the noise subsides.

Filled with curiosity, I crawl over towards the knapsack and pull it towards me. My body aches and my arms are sort of tingly, like they are when you’ve slept on your arm all night. However, it’s about time that I find out where in the name of Merlin I am.

First out of the knapsack is a book. It is a Muggle history book, by the looks of it. I know this because my uncle Xander was a Squib. His house was always filled with Muggle text books. The book in my hands looks vaguely familiar and I open the cover. Inside is the name “Xander Lovegood.” Ah ha! So this book belonged to old Uncle Xander.

I set the book inside and reach into the knapsack again. Next out is a map. But the map is moving, and it is moving far too quickly for any human being to read. It’s clear that the map has been bewitched so that it could not be read. Perhaps there is a spell to set it straight? I put the map aside. I want to see what else is in the bag.

When I lean down to peer into the knapsack, there is a shimmer of gold. I look down and see that I am wearing some sort of a gold necklace on a long chain. I reach for the pendant and instantly recognize that it is a Time-Turner. I look at it for a little bit before deciding that right now is not a time to make sense of anything when there isn’t any sense going on anyway.

I look in the knapsack and find the source of the noise. It is a Sneakscope. I hardly glance at it though, for there is something else in there.

My hand touches a piece of parchment. It is a very old piece of parchment, by the way it flops easily in my hand. I pull it carefully out and take a good long look at the first words, written in spiky handwriting:

Dear Future Me,

Well isn’t that something? I lean down to try and interpret the following words.

“Well, I suppose you aren’t quite the future me. You’re still me, but you’re IN the future. And I suppose your mind is a little fuzzy, isn’t it? Poor dear. I’m sorry you have to be in pain but you had to take the potion. Time travel as far back in time as you are is very dangerous and very difficult. The potion you took was to protect you throughout your long and confusing journey. It’s going to make your mind fuzzy for just a bit (I think six hours was what Madame Pomfrey said, but surely you’ve already been asleep for at least four) and it’s a good idea if you have some of that potion inside the knapsack. It’s some sort of potion to lessen the headaches and strengthen the bones after being squeezed through huge and significant periods of time.

Anyway, I’m not sure if you remember what you’re supposed to do by this time so I’ll give you a reminder:

Don’t let him get the Book.

Unfortunately, that’s really all I can tell you without clearly violating almost all of the laws of Time Travel. But hopefully it’ll refresh your memory just a bit and help you to get back up on your feet.

Good luck on your mission. Remember: you must not be identified. Seen, yes. Identified, no.

Sincerely yours,
Luna Lovegood.”


I stare at the parchment for a bit. It makes perfect sense. But the words have made my mind a little weak and I can’t help but lay my head down on the soft, warm grass and allow myself a nice doze…



I must be miles away from that soft patch of grass where I woke up. It certainly feels as though I’ve been walking for miles. And miles to go before I sleep, the Muggle poem echoed in my mind, and I smiled with faint amusement. It’s thanks to Old Uncle Xander that I ever heard of Robert Frost. Uncle Xander and his books.

The knapsack is hanging loosely on my back, so light that I often forget that it is there. The only things in there are the history book, map, Sneakscope, and a small canteen that I discovered was in a stray pocket. My wand and letter are tucked safely in my robes and the Time-Turner is hanging around my neck.

The sunlight burns my skin, gently. I don’t think I’ve had anything to drink since I left my original time period, though honestly I can’t remember. Either my brain is being infected with nargles or the sun is making me delusional that I can hardly remember anything from about half an hour before. While the nargle theory seems plausible, and it is one I’d like to believe, it is common knowledge that the tricky little creatures hate bright sunlight.

I sigh as I take the small load off my back and reach for the small portion of water. Hopefully it was packed thinking I would come across a place for food and water very soon. I am famished.


A very, very long, long time later I see it. It is a soft, round hill, and it is oddly formed, as though it was planned to be so perfectly shaped.

It doesn’t take long at all before I am looking at a hole on the top of this perfectly constructed landform. I sigh, easily remembering what I am supposed to do. The grass is still soft and almost squishy beneath my shoes. How I wish I could take off these shoes.

I put my legs through the wide, perfect circle, sitting myself down on the edge. Ever so slowly, I brace my arms on the grass and lower myself into the hollow hill until I am hanging by my fingers. I let go. I fall for a few seconds, the wind rushing through my hair and robes, and I land with a light [I]thud[/I] on the soil floor.

It is dark down here, and awfully musty. Lumos, I whisper, and my own voice startles me. I haven’t spoken in such a long time and my voice is cracked. Nevertheless, my spell lit up the room.

The very first thing I notice is that the room is completely unused. It’s probably been empty for centuries, which makes sense because this area is so deserted. Even if a stray Muggle or wizard happened to come across here, nobody takes interest in holes in the ground anymore. There are holes everywhere.

The next thing about the room that I notice is that it is littered with wooden shelves and parchment. There are tremendously gritty glass bulbs, ancient parchment, animal skin rugs in random places, old parchment, Muggle books from all ages (though none recent, I notice, as I glance at the unusual titles), really old parchment, and tools and instruments of all sorts that look like nothing known to mankind today, and, invariably, more ancient-looking parchment.

I continue to absently gaze in wonder. This place is amazing.

The Book.

The words come to me so suddenly that for a moment I wonder what on earth I meant by that. Then I realize that I was reminding myself of my mission: he cannot get his filthy hands on the Book, my Book.

Thump! Dust and dirt flies everywhere. Really, I didn’t even land that hard!

Wait, somebody just fell in here? Impossible! Unless…

STUPEFY!

I holler it so loud I’m surprised some of those dirty glass bulbs didn’t shatter. Then again, the thick grime on them would probably protect them from much outside contact. I almost giggle at the thought. How interesting…

I think this as I look around to see if I hit my target. I didn’t hear anyone fall, but then again, who can fall when they are already on the ground?

I have yet to find the Book, but I am not going to let anyone get their grubby, evil hands on it before me.

No one.



Oh, great. This is just great. I’m am completely positive that Apparating to an incredibly foreign and deserted town was NOT, in any way, part of the plan. Although, the plan stopped following order ever since someone turned up in an ancient, deserted hole in the ground and tried to kill me.

Fine, maybe they didn’t try to kill me. But it’s possible that they could have tried, which is why it’s such a good thing I am able to keep my wits about me in panicky situations.

I do not often find myself in a position of complete indecisiveness, but suddenly it feels like I am torn between what on earth to do. I am still stuck in this time period…it is the time of our parents’ generation. I have no idea where to go. Everything around me is brown, and in complete contrast to the endless grass meadow. However, in likeness with the grass meadow, it is completely deserted.

How am I supposed to get back to that place and find the Book without getting killed by that freaky ninja man? I mean, anyone that can land with such agility (however loud) has obviously practiced many a time. I wonder if he was a Death Eater that followed me back in time to retrieve the Book before me? Hopefully he didn’t succeed. It may seem downright cowardly for me to run like that, but something just didn’t feel right…

Maybe he had a ton of Ninja Death Eater friends with him that were only waiting for me to turn around.

In any case, the point is that I am here and they (or he. Or she, if we want to get picky) are there. And when I say “there,” I don’t even know where. Which only makes me feel even more lost than ever.


I’ve been wandering for such a long time. Hours, maybe. I’ve managed to refill my canteen many times; the heat takes up so much energy, it seems. Just being in the heat exhausts me. But one thought never leaves my mind and it keeps me going: the Book, Luna. The Book.

My one mission by coming here, to this period of time, was to retrieve the stupid Book from that hill. That’s it. Sure, I knew people would be coming after me. But for goodness’ sake, what’s the point of a wand if you don’t use it?

And anyway, just where the heck am I? Surely not the whole world is so…barren? Good Godric, I am completely hopeless! Even if I were to Apparate I wouldn’t know where to go!

So here I am, standing in the middle of nothing, my feet covered in the rust-colored dirt, matching the ground beneath me. And there is absolutely nothing I can do about any of this.

Wrong. I could Apparate back to that old repository, but what to expect I wouldn’t know. I could always Apparate to Hogsmaede. That’s an idea, going to Hogwarts; but then what good would that do me? What would Hogwarts have to do with Uncle Xander’s--my--old book?

Or how about I stop asking myself questions that I cannot answer and do something?

Now there is an idea.

So I start to walk.

And walk.

And walk.

The farther I walk in this random direction that was previously to my right, the more trees I see. They are palm trees; hardly providing me an idea that they could give me some fresh water. Wait--how in the name of Merlin do I keep forgetting I am a WITCH with a WAND? Maybe it’s the old, rustic, nature scene. It’s starting to make me feel completely helpless.

Soon I can see little tufts of grass peeking out from the rust-colored dirt. How I had the energy to have been walking all day, I can’t imagine. Lately, I notice, there are a lot of things that I just don’t know. Raven claws are supposed to know things, but I don’t think I have ever felt so… so… not-knowing.

With this grass coming up, there must be something ahead. But so far I can only see the same, never-ending horizon..

I walk and walk and walk. Wait! I stop, obeying the unspoken command I just gave myself. Is that something there? Way far out there, so that it is barely visible, I see a shadow of something against the horizon. It could be a mirage, but at the same time, I think that maybe it’s not.

It’s only fifteen minutes later that I come across a very small, rustic-looking house that is just sitting there so contentedly that I almost miss it. But I didn’t pass it by, because the moment I realized that there was not anything in the distance anymore, I notice that the thing in the distance is now only a few yards to my left.

Pathetic as the little “house” looks, it’s quite obvious that it is being occupied. An option is to walk up onto that rickety porch and knock on the flimsy, rotting, wooden door. Another option would be to suspect that the home is inhabited by Death Eaters and keep on walking.

I wasn’t going to risk missing anything. Never this whole journey did I have any idea what I was looking for, but I figured that I may as well look while I’m here.

The sky is now beginning to darken and I don’t fancy walking all by my lonesome in this strange, deserted place in the dark.

Therefore, I march commandingly to the little shelter, forcing my nervously wobbling legs up the squeaky front-porch steps. Now was my chance to get in touch with another living being, besides the ninja-person back at the Paper Repository (or so I had names it). I’m in this time period, in this foreign place, and I have no idea if the people on the other side of this door are my friend or foe, or if they are merely innocent, unsuspecting Muggles trying to get away from the buzz of civilization.

I hesitate, my fist centimetres from the wood. I look around me. There is absolutely no yard. No car, no pets or farm-animals, no nothing. It is as though someone found a completely empty space of brown Earth and plopped a little building onto it, then walked away.

Figuring I always have my wand and my Ravenclaw wits, I force my knuckles to rap on the door.

It opens in seconds. I didn’t even get a chance to gather my thoughts together about what to say.

The opener of the door is a stout little woman, probably in her early eighties, with wispy gray hair and kind blue eyes that are pale, as though the sun and barrenness of her surroundings sucked out the darkness. Which I take to be a good sign. She looks extremely kind.

She is the first to speak, “Well hello there, dear! Won’t you come in?”

I oblige, and the very first thing my eyes fall upon in the dim but tidy living room is painting. I would always have that painting embedded in my mind; it played a large part in my childhood and it was something that was always there.

So what in the name of Merlin is it doing here?!

Nevertheless, the sight of the painting which had been missing for so long comforts me slightly and I’m able to walk into the centre of the room much more confidently than I might if I did not suddenly feel like I was Home.

For it is my dear old Uncle Xander smiling pensively down at me from above the fireplace, exactly in the place the portrait always sat in my childhood home so many years ago. Except that this is not my childhood home, and I do not know the woman that let me into her house to unexpectedly find an old family relic.

Now the fun begins. Finally.

I should say something. “I--”

She beats me to it. “Please dear, sit down. Anyone that has travelled so far out here must need rest!”

I smile gratefully and sink into one of the dark red, squishy chairs near the empty fireplace. The house is curiously cool.

“Would you like some lemonade, dearie? I have peanut butter cookies as well,” the kindly-looking woman offers.

I smile again. Peanut butter cookies are my favourite Muggle snack. I nod eagerly and she disappears through a doorway.

The most noticeable thing about the room is that it is red. Red chairs, red walls, red curtains, red carpet. Just a blast of red. There are little trinkets all over the place--Muggle trinkets. There are other portraits and pictures all around the room, but their occupants’ eyes are dead and motionless. This is a Muggle house.

She returns. As she sets the tray down on the coffee table and settles across from me, she asks, “Now, what is your name?”

“My name is Luna Brielle. And yours?”

She smiles. “My name is Enid Rose! A pleasure to meet you, Miss Luna.”

I nod. “And you.” While we’re putting on this entertaining charade of manners, I think over how to get started. “May I call you Enid?”

She nods.

“Alright, Enid. I’m actually looking for somebody and I’m thinking that maybe you can help me.” She looks at me, her eyes questioning. “I’m looking for Xander Lovegood.? The man in the portrait.” I nod to my Great Uncle’s portrait above the empty fireplace.

Her face darkens ever-so-slightly and Enid picks up a cookie. I pick one up as well.

“Well, I’m terribly sorry Luna. He disappeared long ago and nobody knows where he went. He left a note to his family. Xander Lovegood went off… somewhere to write a book. He never came back and is believed to have been killed by Grindewald. I’m sure you’ve heard of him?” I nod. Even Muggles were well informed in this time period of the dark wizard Grindewald.

“What did he say he was going to write his book about?”

Enid smiles as though remembering something trivial. “Oh, something silly like magic or myth, I believe.” She waves her head in the air as though to brush aside the topic. But I’m not finished.

“If you don’t mind me asking, just how do you know Xander?” I ask my question casually, as though I were making friendly conversation instead of interrogating this poor woman. She was losing confidence fast, and looked as though she might unravel at any moment.

“I’m not so sure I’m allowed to tell you, dear. You see, it’s very complicated. The truth is, I didn’t know him all too well! The portrait belongs to my mother; this was her house.”

I can feel my eyes narrow. Hmm. I can use magic on this woman, but it simply isn’t fair to use magic on completely unsuspecting Muggles.

Directly at this point, Enid Rose lets out a small, nearly unnoticeable squeak. I catch it and look up quickly. “Er, are you alright?” She is staring at my robes, near my right pocket… I look down as well, and curse under my breath. My wand is sticking out of my pocket! Quick, Luna! Think of an excuse! “Oh!” I say breezily, casually. “This is just a little uh, luck charm I like to carry around. Odd, I know. But then again, I do come from quite a superstitious family! Ha ha…” My anxious laugh drifts away and I feel incredibly stupid, as Rubitha does not look convinced. Maybe she thinks it’s like a dangerous weapon, which it could be.

She then looks me in the face and her voice is quiet as she says, “You’re a witch?”

I am shocked.

“Um, pardon?” It’s all I can say.

“Luna Brielle, are you a witch or aren’t you?”

I squeak. “Well if I am, are you going to tie me to a stake and burn me?” I’m trying to be witty about it. I’m not doing so well.

And then Enid does something that throws yet another wave of shock crashing over me. She reaches into the pocket of her frilly apron and pulls out a wand. “You’re a witch too!” I almost say it accusingly.

“Now why would I burn you at a stake? I’d be a hypocrite, if anything. Now that we’ve cleared this up--”

“Wait,” I interrupt. “You say this is your mother’s house? Was she not a witch?”

Enid shakes her head. “I am Muggleborn. Now, as I was saying, I think that since we both know even a little more about each other, we can both clear up our stories a bit.”

I gulp.

“More than ten years ago, Xander Lovegood ran away, but not from his unsupportive family. Xander was running away from the Ministry of Magic. He was planning to write a Book of Life. This book would hold all the secrets of life that he had ever uncovered, and he would continue to add to it as his life wore on. The Ministry thought this an awful idea. When he requested support from the Minister, the Minister declined support and advised Xander not to go through with his book. It would create problems, the Minister said. This angered Xander. He thought it would be good for the Wizarding World, only available to key important people. So he ran away and is probably right now writing his Book, if he isn’t already. I worked at the Ministry at the time and it was my job to hunt him down and capture him. I was to bring him back, dead if I could. The laws were harsh in those days.

I didn’t fulfil my duty, but someone else did.”

My heart stopped beating. What?

“Xander wasn‘t killed by Grindewald. He was murdered by the Ministry.”

Oh my.


“Well, this place certainly is… rustic-looking,” is Enid’s first remark about the Wizarding town of Purple Hill Village. We’d Apparated here this morning after a breakfast feast and an agreement to be partners in the Mystery of Xander Lovegood and his Loony Book of Legacies (as we called it).

The place is rightly named; the village sits on a hill - a purple hill. Odd? You’d think. But the villagers walking around busily seem to have no problem with the fact that the soil they are walking on is not a natural colour.

Enid has much interesting knowledge about Uncle Xander - she was following him for three years at least. Purple Hill Village was (is?) one of the places that he stayed, in Purple Hill Inn.

But first, Enid and I stand out like two extra sore thumbs on the face. I whisper, “Enid. We need to do something about our robes. They’re a little too modern for this place.” A lot of places at this time are (were?) very behind the times. It is in the 1970’s here, but there are still old towns with old traditions and such. This one here is practically medieval! No joke. The dirt underneath us may be purple, but it’s still dirt. There are rickety wooden booths all up and down the crowded street. The villagers seem to know about hygiene, which is a relief. They don’t, however, seem to care that there are things called “grocery stores” instead of market booths.

“I agree,” Enid mutters. “The last thing we want right now is to stick out.” She winces warily as a man pulling a wooden wheelbarrow looks her up and down, as though wondering if she is an alien from outer space. He hardly even glances at me, as though he’s afraid I’ll abduct him for lab experiments or something if he so much as looks at me.

Enid takes me through the wooden gate we’ve been standing at that divides the city from the rest of the world, though anyone can get through. She leads me along the fence and behind a large wooden building. “Let’s see if this works,” she mutters, waving her wand. Suddenly, my robes feel so much lighter and softer. I look down and see I am wearing white cotton robes and brown sandals on my feet. She turns her wand on herself and does the same. She lets her hair down from its regular bun and I see that her brown hair is curly and goes to her elbows. We de-glamorise ourselves as much as possible, so that we almost look like medieval peasants. Though granted, these people are not medieval peasants; they are witches and wizards that decided to keep themselves behind a few centuries. Not like the wizards in my time do even, what with wizards not needing or wanting electricity. More like honest-to-goodness ancient-ness.

Soon, Enid is satisfied enough to walk me back out into the blasting sunlight.

“So,” I mutter to her as we make our way casually through the crowds of marketers. “What’s the plan, exactly?” I tighten my grip on my backpack, instinctively.

“We’ll stop by the Inn,” she hisses. Since Purple Hill Inn is the only one in the village, there really isn’t a reason to call it by its full name. “We should stay there and try to pick up some information on Xander while we’re there. Someone’s bound to recognize the name, or even the fact he was here. I doubt this place gets many visitors.”

I can only agree.

We walk. Many people’s feet are purple, and mine are beginning to get a lavender tint as well. Purple dirt is honestly one of the coolest things on Earth, I’m telling you!

Soon, the crowds begin to clear as we leave the marketplace. There are few buildings now, save for a few houses.

Within a few minutes after leaving the market, we approach an old, broken-down wooden building with a rickety sign that says, “WELCOME TO Purple Hill Inn.”

Enid and I walk together up the wooden stairs to the porch and knock. An elderly man that looks quite like Father Christmas opens the door and, seeing that we are strangers, booms, “Welcome to Purple Hill Inn! What can I do for you?” He lets us in gracefully and waves his wand in the direction of a doorway. The door opens swiftly and he ushers us inside it.

We are standing in a medium-sized coffee shop. There are small windows at the far end, a bar, and several round, wooden tables. This place looks more like a tavern, really, but the sign on the wall says “Purple Hill Inn Coffee Café,” so it must be a coffee shop (though the phrase “coffee café” seems oddly curious…).

As Enid discusses with Mr. Father Christmas (otherwise known as Ted, but the former suits him better), I decide it wouldn’t hurt to wander the place a bit. Enid and Mr. Father Ted Christmas are sitting at a table near the bar, so I wake from my odd daze and walk around. At first glance, I didn’t think there was anyone else in here. But as I admire numerous town newspaper clippings, their occupants waving and smiling happily (most likely at being in the paper), I see a man sitting at a table and gazing around the room. His expression isn’t clear in the slightest, but I can see that he is not a local. First of all, his robes are shiny black and obviously new. Secondly, he is reading a newspaper with the headline, “Cornelius Fudge: Minister of Magic or Minister of Mayhem?”

I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure that Cornelius Fudge wasn’t Minister at this time.

Whoever that man is, he shouldn’t be here. And he’d best not be a ninja.


I stare at the figure staring at me until something catches my eye: a glint of gold. This person has something that I have; something around their neck.

“Hey!” I hear myself say loudly. Thankfully, Enid and Mr. Ted Father Christmas didn’t hear, and I lower my voice. “Hey!” I hiss. There really wasn’t a reason for me to get their attention; the figure is and was staring straight at me. And what an odd stare it is… This person is staring at me as though they know me, but that’s impossible! The circumstances are just too coincidental.

“Who are you?” The deathliness of my own voice startles me. Luna Lovegood has never sounded so deathly! All the same, these are vital matters not to be taken lightly. I should not be followed.

The hooded figure does not stand, but it is clear who has more power right now. I mentally curse. This shouldn’t be happening.

“You don’t need to know who I am, Miss Lovegood.” The voice is deep and unreadable. Clearly, this man knows more to me than what I told Enid.

“Then why are you here?” My voice is still uncharacteristically fierce. This is all so, so not right. “What do you want?” I ask, knowing the answer.

He reaches into his robes and I am afraid he will pull out his wand. I am surprised to see him pull a piece of parchment out of his pocket. He waves it in front of me and I see the words, “Get the Book,” on the very top. I then see snippets of other, slightly unnerving, words below. It is a letter, addressed to no one, though I can easily guess who it’s for. The letter is for him, just like I had a letter for myself. The rest I do not see, and I’m glad for that. He quickly stows the parchment back in his robes, as though satisfied.

Without another word, the man whips out his wand. I hardly have time to take out my own before there is a flash of red coming at me. I’m quick though, so I’m able to dodge the curse, giving myself time to take out my own wand.

At this point, Enid and Ted are fully aware of what is going on and both have their wands out, ready for battle. Only the man disappears then. He is gone with a loud CRACK! Now the three of us stand in the middle of the small café, slightly confused at the brief encounter and a little upset that the culprit got away.

Finally, Enid speaks. “Who in the name of Merlin could that have been?!” She doesn’t seem to realize that the man isn’t just someone from this time period hoping for a fight.

Neither adult knows who the man could possibly have been, but I do. I recognized the voice immediately, though I was unsure at first. Now I know. How can I not? The man was the ninja-guy from the Hill, and the man is someone I know well, though clearly I misjudged him.

I always thought Draco Malfoy was just caught up in his father’s mistakes. I never figured he would ever try to actually harm one of his classmates. And yet, he tried. But maybe… well, he tried to warn me, didn’t he? Waving his mission in front of me, as though to tell me that I am not alone, and to be cautious.

Maybe that counts for something.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


My heart is pounding when I open my eyes, then close them. All I see is blackness.

The darkness behind my eyes is no different from the darkness on the other side, but I prefer the shadows of my own eyelids. Still, it is spacious out there. I can’t help but be curious.

My eyes open yet again, and the gloom does not recede. However, the shadows around me have a sort of familiarity about them, as though I have been here before many a time.

I think back to the dream I just had. Was it a dream? It is very vague now. There was a woman named Enid; Enid Longbottom. There was Uncle Xander, and Draco Malfoy. What was I doing dreaming about somebody I don’t even know and Draco Malfoy?!

Suddenly, there is light.

And a voice. “Oh, look who’s up now!” The voice is very familiar, and I feel myself becoming aware of my surroundings. Of course! I’m in a bed, sleeping in the hospital wing! Maybe somebody just hit me with a bad curse. Are my brains addled now? That was certainly a strange dream I had.

Madam Pomfrey is clacking along the stone floor with a glass in her hand, filled with some sort of blue potion. “Here you are, Miss Lovegood. That was quite a fall you took. I’m quite surprised you turned out as well as you did. Still conscious! Though you were muttering strange things indeed. Really, who is Mr. Ted Father Christmas? I’d say falling off the Astronomy Tower did awful things to your head . . .” Falling off the Astronomy Tower? When did I fall off the Astronomy Tower? Am I dead?

There is another voice. “Ah, I see our Miss Lovegood is awake! I must say, falling from such a great height and only sleeping for six hours is hardly what one needs for good recovery. Then again, what do I know?” It is Professor Dumbledore, walking toward us. There is a rectangular bulge in his robes.

“Poppy dear, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with Miss Lovegood for a moment.”

Madam Pomfrey nodded and then gestured to the full glass of blue potion. “You make sure she drinks that up.” We nod.

She walks back into her office. “Alright, Miss Lovegood. First of all, congratulations.”

Is this something one usually says to someone when they just fell off the Astronomy Tower?

“You’ve retrieved the Book. I know it is a family heirloom, but I’ve sent an owl to your father and I don’t think he would mind if I kept it for studying.”

All I can do is blink.

“Oh! Right, of course,” Dumbledore says.

He is about to say more but I interrupt. “Does this have anything to do with my dream?”

The professor winks.

There is a groan from a couple of beds down. “Ah, I see Mr. Malfoy is awake.”

I can feel my blood freeze. “Mr. who is awake?” The last thing I remember before waking up is my name being shouted and Apparating somewhere. I realize now that, in my dream, of course, it was Malfoy that shouted my name. Where did we Apparate from?

“Well Luna,” sighs Dumbledore. “I believe Madam Pomfrey would like you to finish that potion. I’ll see to it that Mr. Malfoy and yourself make it to my office when you’re fully recovered. We have some things to discuss.”

Eyes twinkling, my aging headmaster sweeps through the large oak doors of the hospital wing. I half-heartedly drink the blue potion and find that it has no taste. Within seconds, I am asleep again.