//------------------------------// // Secrets // Story: Defence Against the Dark Arts // by Everythingpossible //------------------------------// After the first day, and then the first week, Luna once again settled into the comfortable routine of life at Hogwarts. The bewildered stares from the younger students were eventually lulled into suspicious gazes, and finally calmed into the occasional odd glance. In two weeks’ time, she attracted no more attention than Hagrid. Hogwarts was the kind of place where even a member of the vibrantly-coloured magical equine royalty could feel somewhat ‘normal’. And she liked that. Like any sensible foreigner, she eventually decided to abandon the more flagrant physical symbols of her foreign-ness; she abandoned the wispy mane formed from the stars themselves in favour of her old, subdued locks of periwinkle blue. She ceased wearing the royal jewelry, a move which incurred the wrath of many furious parents due to the loss of her only semblance of clothing. In a spiteful and highly satirical move, she resolved to shield her nakedness with nothing but a loosely-fastened necktie bearing the crest of Ravenclaw house. Thus, Princess Luna became Professor Luna. She thought less and less of her sister and the world she left behind, and more of test scores, grade point averages, and the House Cup. Her new position came with its benefits: a spacious office in one of the taller towers, a reasonable salary (not that she needed it), not to mention partial dominion of 200+ adolescents at various degrees of ability to manipulate the very fabric of existence itself. Sometimes she thought that Dumbledore assigned her as Head of House due to her immortality; Hogwarts School certainly had its share of deadly occupational hazards, and she had the convenient habit of not dying. She was the most popular individual in the school, and everybody liked her. Except for one. “What’s her problem?” Harry protested after the trio was sufficiently far from the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, on the first day of classes. “What’s her problem?” Hermione interjected. “What’s your problem?” “She’s terrible!” “Aw, widdle Harry Potter is sad because he’s not the most popular little boy in school anymore?” Ron said, mockingly. Harry shot him a harsh look. “No, she’s insane! She expects us to write a seven-page essay by tomorrow!?” Harry complained. “I actually think that you expect me to write a seven-page essay by tomorrow” Hermione said. “Oh, yeah, could you do that? That’d be awesome” Ron added. Hermione sighed, shook her head, and walked away towards her next class. “What’s her problem?” Ron asked obliviously. “I wish we still had Lupin. He was fantastic” Harry continued. “Yeah, what’s up with that? They can’t have a werewolf teaching but she can?” “I don’t know. Everything’s gone crazy since Voldemort disappeared” Harry said. “Harry!” “What? He’s gone now, doesn’t much matter if I say his name. Anyway, did you hear that Flitwick retired?” Harry said, stopping abruptly in the middle of the hallway. “Really?” “Yeah, couldn’t believe it myself. Why would he do that?” “I ‘unno. He was getting pretty old, wasn’t he?” “Not as old as Dumbledore” Harry said. “Who do you think will be the new head of Ravenclaw, then?” “I don’t know, maybe— Wait. No. You don’t think–” “No…” Ron said, a horrified look beginning to appear on his face. “It can’t be…” “It is” Luna said. Harry recoiled instantly. Ron flew back and collapsed over a small wooden table, knocking a porcelain vase of indefinite value and antiquity to the floor. Luna smiled coyly, her head protruding from the wall. “How did you–” Harry inquired, his heart rate still precariously high. “Permeability spell. Quite simple, really. Want me to teach you?” “Uh… No thanks” Harry said, his eyes mysteriously drawn to the point where her sapphire neck vanished into the wallpaper. “Is he okay?” Luna asked, looking to the ginger Weasley collapsed on the floor. “I think so” Harry said. “So.. You’re Flitwick’s replacement?” “Only as the head– no pun intended– of Ravenclaw. Dumbledore’s bringing in a new Charms professor” “Any idea who it is?” Harry asked. “You know how Dumbledore loves his mysterious secrets” Luna said. “Also, you’re welcome.” “For what?” “You’ll see. And I want that essay on my desk tomorrow, Potter. No excuses.” “Yes.. uh.. ma’am.” “Now if you will excuse me, I’ve papers to grade.” “Alright. Goodbye.” “And Potter?” “Yes?” “I can recognise Hermione’s handwriting” she said, disappearing back into the woodwork. Harry silently swore to himself. Meanwhile, Ron regained consciousness, rubbing his head as he looked at Harry, and then at the wall. “Did I just see…” “No. You’re hallucinating, Ron” “Of course” Ron said, looking again at the space where he’d sworn he had seen one of his professors’ equine heads stuck to the wall talking to his best friend. The duo headed down one of the large, occasionally stationary staircases out of the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower, walking through the main hallway to their next class, Herbology. Suddenly, they noticed a large mass of robe-clad students congregated in the school’s massive courtyard. “Wonder what the fuss is?” Ron said. “Eh, probably some first-year got hit in the face with a Reductor Curse” Harry responded dismissively. “You want to go check it out?” “Of course.” They weaved their way through the tangled web of people, shoving aside Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, seventh-years and second-years, until finally they had navigated to the front of the general consortium. Dumbledore stood in the centre of the loose crescent formation, grinning radiantly in a flowing silver robe that shone in the midmorning sunlight. At his side was a tall, slender man, dressed in a modest tweed suit covered with a brown wizard’s robe. His chestnut-brown mustache highlighted the cheeky smile strung across his face. Harry recognized him insantly. “Oh my God, it’s—” “Students,” Dumbledore began, abruptly interrupting Harry mid-epiphany. “As you may have heard, one of my esteemed colleagues, Filius Flitwick, the Professor of Charms and Head of Ravenclaw House, has retired. I would like to introduce the new Charms Professor—” “Harry!” Lupin said, cutting off the last few words of the Headmaster’s speech. He ran forward to his best friend’s son, clapping a firm hand on Potter’s shoulder and shaking his hand vigorously. “Good to see you, boy!” “And you as well!” Harry said, jubilant. “I thought you’d never come back! What about the.. uh.. you know…” “It’s not a problem, Harry. They’ll hire anyone–” he said, nodding in the general direction of the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower, “–these days, now that ol’ Whatshisface is gone. Including werewolves.” “But what if you…” “Oh, don’t worry. They’ve got some fantastic treatments for that these days. I tell you, the progress magical science has made.” “So… Dumbledore just gave you the job?” Harry asked, dumbfounded. “Well, to be fair I did have a few choice recommendations.” “Like I said, you’re welcome” Luna said, trotting up to the pair from behind. “Wait… you?” “The Princess and I have been corresponding for a while” Lupin said. “I told you not to call me that, Remus” Luna replied. “Remus!?” Harry almost shouted, turning again to look accusatorially at Lupin. “Professor Lupin and I share a, uh— a certain weakness” she admitted. “Hers is worse, I only turn into a furry, homicidal maniac about once a month” Remus retorted, without missing a beat. Harry allowed himself to laugh, while Luna leered at him menacingly. “Don’t you have a class to teach?” Luna asked. “Don’t you have a class to teach?” Professor Lupin replied. Luna smiled. “Yes. Now, I believe you were on your way to Herbology, Mr. Potter?” she said. Harry suddenly looked around to find that the hallway was deserted save for the odd trio. Hastily saying goodbye to Lupin, he absconded out the massive wooden doors leading out into the vast green. The two professors watched the young wizard run haphazardly across the dew-soaked grass, occasionally stumbling, until the doors shut with a massive, reverberating slam. “Thank you again. I am forever in your debt” Lupin said, turning back to Luna. “Don’t say ‘forever’ around immortals,” she advised him as she lifted off the ground to return to her classroom, “we tend to expect it.” Luna found Dumbledore again in one of the lower corridors, wandering in a violet nightgown, candle in hand, surveying the archaic portraits lining the archaic walls. He chortled silently as he heard the alicorn approach from behind. “Must we restrict our meetings to such late hours? I grow tired of these nocturnal rendezvous” he joked. “The darkest of truths are only revealed in the dark of night” Luna said. “It was only by chance I found you here,” she lied. “I was attempting to explore more of this castle. It does not have quite the grandeur of Canterlot, yet it is brimming with history.” “One does grow to appreciate the vastness of Hogwarts.” “What are these portraits?” Luna suddenly asked, nodding towards the dusty images preserved on the wall. “Unlike the others, they do not move.” “That is correct, Luna” Dumbledore said. “These portraits do not move because their subjects are among the most notorious of this academy’s former students.” Luna was astonished. “Why keep them here, then?” “One must remember both the good and the bad of the past, if one wishes to move forward” Dumbledore stated in his usual academic verboseness. He motioned for Luna to come closer, then turned to the painting on the wall immediately in front of him. It was that of a young man, clad in the standard uniform of a Hogwarts student, more specifically a Slytherin. Jet-black hair fell in gentle curls across his forehead. There was no life preserved in his dark brown eyes. “Tom Marvolo Riddle. An orphan, taken in by the school, when I was but a professor. Now better known as…” “Lord Voldemort” Luna said. “Yes. You are good with anagrams, are you?” “No, it says ‘Lord Voldemort’ on the plaque.” It did. Dumbledore laughed, stepping lightly to the side to examine the next portrait. This one was around the same age as Riddle. A pale, bony face, outlined by long hair the colour of fine, varnished mahogany. The quality of this likeness was significantly lower, obviously done by one of negligible artistic skill. “Another of my students. Richard Fenwick.” Dumbledore said, grievingly. “A brilliant young man, if somewhat eccentric.” “What did he do?” “He disappeared in 1957, and has never been heard from again. Dark magic is suspected.” “It’s not exactly a great painting” Luna criticized, noting the thick, juvenile brushstrokes. “Thank you,” Dumbledore said, “I did it myself.” Luna blushed, but Dumbledore merely chuckled. “We didn’t have any photographs, so I had to paint from memory” he said, reminiscing. “Not bad, if I do say so myself.” “Do you think he’s still alive?” Luna pondered. “Oh, I have no doubt,” the Headmaster said, glancing again at the crude portrait. “Richard was too clever to involve himself with Voldemort. Everything he did, he did for his personal benefit. Sometimes, I think he may be smarter than even I am.” “Nobody is smarter than you, Dumbledore” Luna object. “Well, except me” she said, after some thought. Dumbledore yawned loudly. “Well, it is quite late, and I must retire” he said. “I trust I will see you at breakfast?” he asked. “But of course, Headmaster.” “The moon is quite beautiful tonight” he said abruptly, turning his head to admire the pale silver light flowing in from a high window. The Earth’s satellite hung in the evening sky, only revealing a sliver of its bright surface. “It is strange. Since your return, it has not been full once. Always waxing, and then waning, never once reaching its zenith. Most unusual, is it not?” he said, looking back at the princess. “Yes, most unusual” Luna said, with a smile that subtly confirmed his suspicions. “Goodnight, Luna” Dumbledore said. Luna returned the salutation, and silently returned to her chambers.