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The Black Lake; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 10, 1995; 4:13p.m.

Harry kicked a stone as he walked along the lake. It may have been the fourth one he kicked . . . or the four hundredth. He wasn't paying attention. He was done with classes. Until Umbrage's detention, his time was all his own.

Which as the problem: it was all his own and no one else's.

The entire day, the two people closest to him had become the two people most distant to him. Ron had barely spoken a word and was content to play chess with Seamus Finnagan. When Harry had left the Commonroom, the red-head hadn't even acknowledged him. He guessed his best friend was angry at him over something, but he couldn't figure out what.

Then, there was Hermione. She hadn't spoken much either, but she hadn't chosen the furthest seat in class or the Great Hall from his, and she still tried to smile at him when he left. Harry sighed. The worst thing, perhaps, was that he knew why she was so withdrawn.
*]
[*The Gryffindor Commonroom; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 9, 1995; 11:45p.m.

Harry and Hermione didn't know how long they sat together like that. Finally, Harry decided they needed help, serious help . . . or rather, Sirius help.
*]
[*"Harry," Sirius' mirror-image groaned, "Don't you know how late it is? Don't you have class tomorrow?"

"Sirius, what's going on?" Hermione demanded before Harry could respond. "What did you do to that book?"

"Nothing," Sirius answered, looking confused. "Moony was the last one to own it, remember?"

"Then, how do you explain this?" Hermione asked, holding up the book. It was open to the portrait of Harren.

Sirius' eyes went wide. " . . . I forgot about that. Well, this puts a new spin on things."

"Sirius," Harry interrupted. "What's going on? I'm having dreams about stories I've never heard, imagining people I've never met, and three of them look like me!"

"Three?" Hermione cried, turning towards him.

Harry swallowed. He recalled the look of burning hatred in Voldemort's blood-red eyes the night he was reborn. It had been more than a little unnerving, but, looking into Hermione's beautiful brown eyes at that moment, Harry felt absolutely terrified.

"Harry . . ." she said—no, she growled.

"Well," Harry said, licking his suddenly dry lips, "you remember how, that night in the Burrow, I mentioned that I had been having dreams about people other than Harren, right?"

Hermione still scowled at him, but her faced became even redder. Harry realized she was . . . blushing.

"Right," she huffed. "You did . . . What were they about?"

Harry sighed. "Two other men. They didn't look as much like me as Harren did, but there was something about their eyes, their faces, something in the way they spoke and acted, that reminded me of, well, me . . ."

{He lounged on a silk couch, with plush pillows richly embroidered. The room was softly lit, with beautiful tapestries and hangings. Sweet smelling incense drifted in the air. Harry flopped around on the couch, unable to make himself comfortable on the most luxurious thing he had ever lain on.
/]
[/"Having trouble, my love?" a soft voice asked. Harry turned and saw a young woman walking toward him. She was dressed in silks even finer than the ones he lay on but scantily, like the slave outfits he had dreamed the Patils wore. The Patils weren't wearing jewelry like her's, though, golden bangles and necklaces and even a tiara all studded with shining rubies and emeralds and sapphires and diamonds. Her brown hair was delicately piled about her face and her pale skin seemed to glow in the candle light. When she touched his hand, hers was soft as velvet. She had blue eyes that made the night sky seem starless by comparison. A small smile graced her face, a smile that set his heart racing.
/]
[/And the way she walked, it was simple, yet seductive. Her hips swayed ever so slightly, and her steps were brisk and even. It wasn't to delicate or too hurried. It was perfect.
/]
[/"This couch is too soft," he complained. "It's too slippery. I feel as though I'm going to fall over the side with one good roll."
"Perhaps, then," she said, her smile widening, "You should cease tossing and turning so much."
/]
[/Harry sighed "Perhaps. . ." Then grabbed her waist and pulled her down onto him, kissing her slowly and intensely. "But, I think I'll be better able to stay still with a little weight to hold me down."
/]
[/"You cad!" she cried, her eyes and mouth wide. She swatted him gently on the arm. They both chuckled.
/]
[/"I said 'a little weight." Harry replied, kissing her again.
/]
[/"You are still lucky you kiss so well," she replied, "else I would roast you for your insolence, Wizard."
/]
[/Harry laughed again. Or rather, the person Harry was in laughed again. As the man began rubbing his lady's arm, Harry caught a glimpse of his vessel's. It wasn't his, of course, but nor was it Harren's. Harry had small, wiry arms, the result of a combination of years of malnutrition and Quidditch. Harren, by contrast, had delicate arms, the arms of a scholar rather than an athlete, but he looked more well-fed. The new man's arms were more muscular than Harry's, but healthy looking, like Harren's. There was one quality, however, that marked this body as different from both his and that of Harren Pottris; the arm was brown.
/]
[/ Harry jerked his eyes away from the arm and looked the woman in the eyes as she pulled away from another kiss. He looked into her eyes, and almost lost himself. For a moment, his mind was blank, and all he could do was stare at this woman. Then, he recovered, as his vessel began speaking again. Harry wasn't sure what he was talking about. What he didn't hear wasn't important. What he did see was. Staring into the woman's eyes was his own face. It was different, the hair was longer, pulled into a pony tail to control it, and it also bore a scar down one cheek. There was no mistaking it, however, the reflection he in the woman's eye was another older version of himself.
/]
[/"So!" a voice called from behind him. Harry, or whoever it was, turned around. There was another woman, this one also dark-skinned, who seemed eerily familiar, but he couldn't quite place her. She had elegant, finely shaped features and lustrous black hair that fell around her face. Her fine eyebrows curved into a light frown over violet eyes. She was dressed a little more conservatively than the blonde, but not by much. On her hip she carried a little girl. "This is how I find my husband? Cavorting with a slave while I take care of his child?"
/]
[/The words would have stung, if she had tried to hide her smirk and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Harry's vessel burst out laughing. "Forgive me, Vanessa. I am only a man in a siren's thrall."
/]
[/The blonde didn't help at all; she draped herself over him and whispered in a sweet, breathy voice "Master, I am a mere slave, and you are a mighty wizard. How could I ever hope to enthrall one so great?"
/]
[/Harry felt his blood rush to his face, if only in his imagination, but his vessel merely sighed. "Alas, all women are against me."
/]
[/Then, the little girl laughed. "A-hah, hehehehe . . ." she gurgled, squirming in her mother's arms. The woman smiled, and it turned her from a beautiful, living work of art into a beautiful woman. She lifted the girl up and put her in the vessel's outstretched arms.
"You're not against me, are you, Princess?" Harry dimly heard him ask the girl. "You'll always be on my side, won't you?" She responded with another round of giggles. Something had captured Harry's attention, however. The little girl, although as dark as her parents, was dead ringer for Hermione (2). . .}

Which was probably why Hermione had spent the whole day, well, not avoiding him exactly, but she hadn't been as warm as she usually was.

Harry absent-mindedly kicked another rock, thinking about how things usually were: the three of them sitting together talking and laughing. He hadn't noticed before how much he liked Hermione's laugh, it was . . . cheerful. He kicked another rock; it was the best he could come up with.

"Neigggghhh!"

Harry heard what sounded like a recording of a horse being played through a defective speaker. He looked up—and leaped back. Right in front of him was one of the black, skeletal horses he had seen pulling the carriages when they had arrived. It stepped forward making almost no sound.

"They can be really quiet, you know," a soft voice said behind him. Harry whipped around. There, surrounded by the frightening beasts, was the blond girl he had sat with on the train: Luna Lovegood, whom Ginny had called "Loony." She was petting the nose of one of the horses and rubbing the back of another with her free hand. Her soft smile somehow calmed his nerves while doubling his heartbeat.

"I didn't," Harry answered. He watched her for a moment, then, slowly, put his hand out and began to rub the nose of the nearest horse.

"They're quite nice, really," she went on. "Most people are afraid because they're . . ."

"Because they're different," Harry finished, turning to her. Now, he was smiling. It seemed like there was someone else who understood what that meant. Someone-

"Nice to see you're not being a woolhead," Luna remarked, exploding Harry's world with a single sentence.

Harry stopped petting the horse. His head snapped to her. "Where did you hear that?" In three seconds, he was standing in front of her. "Where did you hear that?"

Luna stopped petting too. Her eyes focused, and her voice lost its usual sing-songiness. "Harry . . ." she began.

"Tell me!" he demanded, grabbing her shoulders tightly and drawing her close. His heart was beating like a drum in his chest and his blood raced. His arms and legs shook. If he hadn't been holding her he might have fallen over.

"Harry, you're hurting me," Luna said, sending a bullet of clarity into his addled brain. He saw that her eyes were wide, and her body was very stiff. He realized that his fingers were digging into her arms and immediately let go; they fell dead at his sides. His heart slowed, and his blood cooled, allowing his mind to analyze his actions in agonizing detail.

"Oh Luna . . ." How could he have done that? After all the years of victimization, after thinking he had finally found someone who understood what it was to be him, how? "I'm sorry; I-"

His legs buckled underneath him, and he would have fallen over . . . if Luna hadn't wrapped her arms around him to hold him steady. The horses, which had backed away from him in his moment of rage, know circled around them, forming an invisible, protective ring. Somehow, they knelt down together.

"It's all right," she whispered. "It's all right. I forget sometimes that I'm not like other people."

"Luna," he struggled. "That's no excuse. Being different doesn't mean you have to put up with . . ." with what? With being assaulted by someone she was being friendly with. His heart sank, and his blood became painfully cold.

"No, Harry," she whispered. "But it means that I have to remember that other people don't . . . view things the way I do." She shook her head. "I knew this would happen, but I wasn't thinking about what it must be like for you." She looked into his eyes, and Harry's heart thundered to life again as he lost himself in those beautiful, grey eyes. "Harry, if I forgive you for grabbing me, will you forgive me for being so careless?" Her breath hitched as she spoke. Somehow, something inside Harry saw this and realized what it meant, recognized how badly she needed this.

The feeling returned to his arms, and, almost instinctively, he wrapped them around her, gently yet closely. Some part of him experienced a sense of déjà vu and crowed in triumph. But, he ignored it, continuing to look deeply into those eyes and responded to her. "Yes, Luna, I forgive you, completely and unconditionally."

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, burying her head in his chest. Harry brought his head down on top of hers, and, together, they wept softly.

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Sometime later, when they had stopped crying and were not holding each other so tightly, Harry recalled what Luna had said earlier. "Luna," he said, "What did you mean when you said something about knowing this would happen? Did you know. . .?"

"It's hard to explain," she said, now calm. "But, I do know this, somehow, you've been having dreams or maybe hallucinations about people and events that you've never seen or heard of?"

Harry swallowed, his heart hammered again, but this time he controlled himself. "Yes . . . How did you know?"

"Well," she said with a smile, "I know you were raised in the muggle world, but even if you weren't, there are few wizarding families today who know the old stories. They might be recorded in the Library, but I don't think Hermione is the type to look up old legends that almost no one believes in anymore. So, it was unlikely you'd ever heard of these events before."

Harry chuckled a little. "No, she wouldn't." Then he turned serious again. "But how did you know I was going to be having the dreams in the first place?"

"I saw it in my viewings" Luna replied promptly. "I saw that you would begin to remember events from your past lives which would herald your reawakening."

"Past lives," Harry repeated, his mouth suddenly dry and his head spinning. "You mean . . . all those people . . . I was looking at things through their eyes . . . Harren Pottris . . ."

"He was your identity in the Second Age," Luna replied, closing her eyes and breathing slowly, "as Krell of the House of the Wyrm(3), the First Dragon, was in the First Age and as Rand Al'Thor, the Dragon Reborn, was in the Third Age(3)." She opened her eyes and stared into his. "They say 'you only live once,' really, it's more accurate to say, 'you only live once each Age.' Each of us is born, dies, and then is reborn in the next Age, and we will continue until the Seventh Age, when everything ends and all the Worlds die."

"That's . . ." Harry stuttered. "That's impossible, Luna . . . It's just . . ." Then, something clicked in Harry's brain. Luna called her visions of him "viewings," she was close to the skeletal horses, she said he wasn't being a "woolhead," she had made him laugh when it seemed like that there was nothing laugh at, and she had the power to stand him on his head at the drop of a hat. "Min Farshaw?"

"At last, I was beginning to worry you'd never figure it out." She smiled at him. "Yes, Harry, I was Min Farshaw, in my last life, although my last name was different when I died."

Harry blushed. "I know, in one of the dreams, you were telling me you loved me . . . after . . ."

"After, we slept together and you locked yourself away for a week because you thought you raped me?" Luna responded, unperturbed. "Yes, that memory is very vivid in my mind. I also recall I said a lot of unflattering things to you when you insisted that I didn't consent or that you didn't deserve to be loved."(4)

Harry's blush deepened. He remembered that, too. Amazing that a girl so much smaller than himself had been able to intimidate him so badly. Then, he thought of something. "Luna, how do you know all this? Do you have dreams too?"

Luna shrugged. "Sometimes, mostly it's like my viewings: hallucinations, you could call them."

"I thought your viewings only showed the future."

"Last time that was true. Maybe they're different this time, or maybe it's because our pasts are so linked to the future."

"Maybe," Harry said, not doubting her, just a little overwhelmed by the moment. "But, wait," he said. "There's something I don't get. When I first dreamed of Harren, he was married to Hermione, Hermonia; they mentioned someone named Luna-"

"Yes, that was me, except I was your sister then, not your lover."

"That's what I don't understand!" Harry exclaimed. "And, when I dreamed of Krell or whoever I saw his baby girl, and I knew that was Hermione! How is that possible?"

Luna sighed. "Harry . . . what does the word 'soulmates" mean to you?"

"Um . . . I guess it's a romantic term people use for their lovers."

Luna nodded. "That's the common definition in this Age, but there's another, more correct one. Soulmates, Harry, are people who are deeply connected throughout all their reincarnations. While casual friends may meet again and again, they are not soulmates. That level of connection requires something stronger than just friendship: it takes love, of a kind. You, Hermione, and myself are soulmates. That means that we're always going to be together, but not always in the same way. In one life, we three could all be lovers; in another, Hermione is your sister, and I am your love; the next may leave all three of us siblings, and the one after that could leave either myself or Hermione your wife and the other your child while the next life reverses our roles. What our relationships are is unimportant; all that matters is that we are always together and always loving one another(5)."

Harry thought about that for a moment, all eternity to spend with the ones he loved. Loved? There it was, the reason why Hermione's absence pained him so much more than Ron's did. He loved her; he always had, and he always would. He looked down at the girl in his arms and realized something else. Despite having only known Luna a few days, and only really known her for maybe an hour, he loved her, too. When you think about it, he thought, we've known each other for millennia. "Oh yes," she said, "breaking him out of his musings. "You've got several other soulmates, as well. You've probably already guessed that from your dreams. One of my viewings showed us all together, so I think we'll all be your lovers as well, this time. You should really invest in a king-size bed, Harry."

It was all delivered in a perfect, matter-of-fact tone, as though everything had already been settled. Exactly she told me when she was Min, "Just so you'll know, I love you, too . . . And to be fair, Rand, I have to tell you that Elayne loves you, too. So does Aviendha.(6)" "Does it ever bother you that you can't have me all to yourself?" he asked.

"It bothered Min at times," she answered, promptly, "and Selene(7), my first life, was disappointed for a long time, but I've spent years having these viewings, long before I was before I was old enough to be disappointed. Actually," she thought for a moment. "At this point, I think I would be more disappointed if I was alone."

Harry's arms tightened around her again. "You'll never be alone, Luna. I promise."

They looked into one another's eyes. Intense green orbs meeting soft grey ones. Later, they wouldn't remember who moved first or if they moved together, but soon their lips met and the two forgot everything around them as they kissed for the first time in thousands of years.

Therefore, they didn't hear or see the lone figure who crept up behind the trees and, because this person had never seen death, saw them kiss. The figure stood for just an instant, then bolted.

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Intrigue! Who is this mysterious spy? What does his/her presence mean for our heroes? How will Harry confront his other soulmates? Find out on the next exciting episode of Dragon-NO! No. I'm an not going there!

Now that that's settled, let's wrap this chapter up shall we? Lots of drama here, hope none of you lost your lunches on this emotional roller coaster. I don't think this qualifies as an exposition dump, but I'd say this chapter is something of a lore dump for both Earth 1 and the World Tree Series as a whole. Still more coming, though!

Footnotes:
(1) Information on Robert E. Howard's Atlantis in its heyday are pretty sketchy, only a few refernces in the Conan stories and one Atlantean decadent in the Solomon Kane story "The Moon of Skulls." The man in question was brown-skinned and mentioned his race was as a rule. So, the athestics are mostly inspired by Kull's Valusia. Vanessa is not an Atlantean name, but it sounded classical enough to work. "Siren" is a clue by the way.

(2)Again, I know jack about Howard's Atlantis, so the House of Wyrm is my own creation, hopefully I'll be able to do more with it. Wyrm is an old word for Dragon, FYI. In case anyone guessed this, "Krell" is derived from "Kull."

(3) I feel compelled to put this here because someone will call me on it if I don't; Lews Therin is not one of Harry's (and therefore Rand's) past lives. This does not mean, however, that he does not have a part to play in the story. He, or rather, his real reincarnation, does have an important role in this story and possibly the future World Tree stories. I should also mention now that the events of Rand's lifetime don't perfectly follow Wheel of Time cannon, I made some changes that will be explained later to make Rand's story fit this world better. I will now, though, that the utopian Second Age did not exist in this world.

(4) This actually happened in the seventh Wheel of Time book, The Crown of Swords. It is perhaps the best scene in the whole book and the whole series. We see Rand's extreme self-loathing (he wants to kill himself but can't until he beats the bad guys), followed up by his confusion and Min doing what she does best: driving Rand nuts. This is also the part when Rand (who grew up in what is essentially rural, Medieval Europe) is forced to confront the fact that he is in love with three women, and they him in return. Seriously, its just one chapter but it is worth the whole book.

(5) This is the definition of soulmates, more or less, as presented in Rumblepurr's Jellicle Chronicles. If you like Cats, or find the idea of a group of magical, anthromorphic felines living in a junkyard (or Ancient Egypt or as human-sized aliens on another planet) appealing, VISIT THIS SITE. Basically, Chronicles picks up after the show ends and spins an epic tale about the Jellicles that spans 15 years. There's also a prequel ("Ancients") set in Ancient Egypt and a sequel ("The Jellicle Tribe") set when the spirits of the tribe return to their ancient homeworld as Yealikah (fun fact: Iwas written first by another author, Rumblepurr modified the first three "books" a little then wrote the fourth and its sequels along with the prequels) and a spinoff set in New York ("The New Jellicle Chronicles"). Be warned! Some of the stories (especially the sequels to "Tribe") contain: foul language, sexual content, torture, rape, and character death. Believe you me, you will never look at Macavity the same way if you read this stuff. But, if you can stand it, the stories are pretty compelling and contain a wonderful cast of characters (which can become a problem when the originals have kids and the tribe becomes a small army).

Getting back on topic, this scene was somewhat inspired by a scene in "The Ancients" when Demeter (who is a seeress) has a vision of the future and seeing herself, Munkustrap, and the third member of their triad, Bombalurina (sorry, Cassandra fans). Most of this was borrowed from this scene, plus a story later on in the "Ancients" series (I can't figure out which one, sorry). You can read the original online ("A Special Night" (be warned: there is a lot of graphic sex later on in the story, it's rated R, but you can still read about the vision before the graphic stuff hits.) The stories that come later prove this is true, the tribe may stay together, but the "First Family" is always connected somehow. For any who guessed, in Luna's scenario, Harry (the male) is Munkustrap, Luna (the seeress) is Demeter, and Hermione is (by default, really) Bombalurina (if you've read the stories or seen the show, you know how ridiculous that is).

Some of you are probably wondering why I chose to do it this way. Well, honestly, it saved me the trouble of having to shoehorn in a reason of why Rand would have X number of lovers when Min only saw two women and herself. It also seemed more interesting than having all past versions of Harry wind up with X number of ladies (eventually, this is going to come up in the story, and imagining the same group finding each other through increasingly contrived circumstances felt lame).

(6) This is a quote from that chapter I mentioned earlier, abridged somewhat.

(7) Selene is the Greek name for the Moon/Moon goddess (Artemis was goddess of the Moon; Selene was the Moon itself). Luna is Latin.

I realize they were a little long this time, sorry.

Additional Notes: I think the "completely and unconditionally" line may be a quote of Doctor Who Series 6: "The Wedding of River Song." I won't check because it was unintentional. I just felt like sharing. If you want you can tell me if I'm right or not. I don't really care.

It wasn't until I was writing about Harry confronting Luna that I remembered that Min loved horses. I originally put the Threstrals in to re-create the scene in the Order of the Phoenix movie (I can't remember if it happened in the book, but I think not.) Sometimes things just work out that way. There is a God.

The line "Min Farshaw?" I realized after writing it was inspired by book 8 of The Saga of Darren Shan: Allies of the Night. (SPOILER WARNING) It's inspired from the scene where Darren realizes the hook-handed vampaneze is really his old friend R.V. ("Reggie Veggie?"). After Darren makes the connection, the chapter ends, which I did consider doing, but I really wanted to talk about the lore, explain the Hermonia/baby Hermione thing, and the rest of the chapter seemed to short to be a stand alone so I finished it up.