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The Black Lake; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 11, 1995; 5:30 p.m.
/]
[/"Urf," Harry groaned rolling over, wondering why his bed was so lumpy . . . and why he had no sheets . . . and why he was sleeping naked . . .

"Wake up, Sleepy Snorlack," a musical voice said next to him.

Harry swiveled around. Luna lay next to him, smiling . . . and totally naked. His face heated up as he recalled what they had just did . . . all of it.

"You look very nice with a blush, Harry," Luna said, pushing herself up on her hand, "but, I would be very disappointed if this is how you react afterwards every time we make love, my husband."

Harry's chest heaved. Husband. He was fifteen years old, and he was married. Part of him was shivering under the implications, but that part was buried beneath a mountain of immeasurable joy. He was married; he had a family and was going to spend the rest of his bizarre and, frankly, dangerous life with this beautiful, wonderful girl. He was just too happy to be scared.

"I'm sorry, my wife," he said, smiling. He reached out and pulled her close to him, then leaned down and kissed Luna. It was gentle, like a butterfly, but, after their intense mating, it was perfect.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry," she replied after he pulled away. "I'm not your wife, Harry."

"Wha-what?" Harry cried, his brain scrambling like an egg dropped on the ground.

"Don't worry, Harry," she said, smiling. Honestly, Luna looked as though she was about to break out into laughter. "We're married, but I'm your consort, not your wife."

"I thought you had to be married to the queen to be a consort," Harry said, trying to piece his brain back together. For some reason, he was reminded of that old rhyme his preschool had taught him, All the King's horses and all the King's men/couldn't put Humpty together again.

"Well, that's a special case," Luna said. "Basically, I'm 'Ms. Lovegood' now instead of 'Mrs. Potter,' and my children will be Lovegoods. There's plenty of social and political implications, but that's what's important."

"How come you're not Mrs. Potter?" Harry asked.

"It's in the wording of the ritual," Luna said. "I chose to be your consort so I could save my family from disappearing. I'm sure some of our other soulmates will do the same."
/]
[/"'Our soulmates?'" Harry asked.

"Of course," Luna nodded. "We're always together, so we're all soulmates." She closed her eyes and smiled a little. "I wonder if this means they'll be my wives, consorts, and concubines, too."(1) Seeing her husband blushing, Luna laughed. "Oh, Harry, you're not still embarrassed about that are you?"

"Sorry, Luna," he said. "It's just . . . most people don't have multiple wives."

"Yes, but, thankfully, we're not most people," she replied with a smile.

"No, I guess, we're not," Harry said. "Luna," he asked, "Do you . . . Do you have an idea of who the others are, besides Hermione?" Asking his wife—consort—who his other lovers-to-be were was . . . something else under the "we're not most people" category.

"Well . . ." Luna replied, sitting up now, "It's hard to see, but you've dreamed of the Patil twins, Padma and Parvati, right?" Harry nodded. "Yes," Luna nodded herself, "they're two of them, and then there's Daphne . . . that's ironic, I think."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Well," Luna said, "have you talked to her much?"

"Er . . . no," Harry said. "I mean I've spoken to her recently, but not much, and I botched the conversation we had earlier this morning pretty badly . . ."

"Did she want to kill you?" Luna asked serenely.

"She looked like it," Harry dead-panned. Why was Luna treating that like it was a good sign?

"I believe Aviendha wanted to kill Rand once, of course that was after he slept with her, not because of an argument," the blond witch continued.(2)

"Aviendha?" Harry cried. "Daphne is Aviendha?"

Luna shrugged. "I viewed them once; I saw Daphne in the corridor, and then I saw Aviendha walking in her place. I'm pretty sure that means Daphne is Aviendha's reincarnation."

"But, Aviendha was a warrior from a desert tribe," Harry said. "Daphne, she's not fat or anything, but . . ."

"But, she doesn't look like a warrior?" Luna completed. She shook her head. "Harry, try to remember as much of Aviendha as you can. I know it's difficult, but try . . . Aviendha was a warrior, yes, but that wasn't the sum of her character. She was brave and honorable: loyal to her people's beliefs, but also stubborn and full of passion she kept concealed behind her discipline. Does Daphne have any of these traits?"

Harry thought. Daphne had taken the easy way out avoiding confrontation with the other Slytherins, but she had been ashamed of it. She was proud, but not arrogant like Pansy and her other "friends"—except, maybe Tracey. She knew about the history of the rivalry between Slytherin and the other Houses instead of treating it as though it had always been that way like most everyone else seemed to; Harry didn't know whether or not that qualified as being "loyal to her people's beliefs," but it was a step in the right direction.

And then there were her eyes . . . They weren't the same color as Aviendha's but they held the same look: pride and strength. Those eyes were like campfires waiting for a breeze to pick up and allow them to spread into wildfires. If that didn't prove she had passion concealed by discipline, nothing would. Daphne may not have been trained to fight, but she was a warrior; she was Aviendha.

"She was Vanessa, too. Krell's wife, right?" he asked.

Luna nodded. "Yes, and Hermione's mother then, though I hope those feelings aren't lingering . . ." The last part was spoken quietly, almost introspection. Harry decided against asking what she meant and asked another question.

"Luna, why did you call recognizing Daphne, Padma, and Parvati 'ironic?'"

"Oh, you don't remember?" she promptly replied. Without waiting she continued, "Aviendha had twin boys and twin girls, remember. Padma and Parvati are those girls: Marinna and Padra reborn."(3)

"Aviendha's daughters?" Harry wondered. When Luna nodded, he added, "my daughters?"

Luna frowned. "Well, in another life, yes."

"So, you're suggesting I should marry my daughters?" Harry asked.

"Harry," Luna said, "do you think of Hermione as your daughter?"

"What?" Harry asked.

"She was your daughter in your first lives," Luna said, "and, I was your sister in your second life; is that how you see me now?"

"Er, well, no," Harry replied. It was more or less impossible to deny that after what they had just done.

"Then why are you worried about the twins?" she pressed. "Harry, stop worrying about what we've been what we'll be in our next lives and start worrying about this one." She leaned forward and kissed him again. "I love you Harry, not as my brother but as my husband, and Padma and Parvati, will do the same, and so will Daphne and Hermione. I promise."(4)

Harry sighed. "How do you do it, Luna? How can you always turn me on my head like this?"

"It's a woman's job to tell her man off when he's being silly," Luna replied. "That's what my mother taught me."

Harry smiled. "I won't argue. So," he said with a slight grimace, "I'm going to have five . . . let's just call you all 'wives ' for now, maybe six," he concluded, thinking back to the blond woman who was hanging all over Krell.

"Actually, you're going to have eight 'wives'" Luna corrected, matter-of-factly.

"Eight wives?" Harry breathed.

Luna nodded. "Not a very special number, I suppose, but numbers aren't that important."

". . . No," Harry replied. "I suppose not." Mentally, the young man was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that he was apparently destined to have eight wives or consorts or whatever. He decided to deal with it later. "So," he said, returning to the original conversation, "do you have any idea who the other three are?"

Luna sighed. "I wish I did Harry, but, every time I try to remember them, their faces are hidden. I suppose this means its either the Creator's will or Vaire's that we should concentrate the on the four we know about now and then try to find the others. I'm sure things will all work out for the best."

"I hope so," Harry said. "I messed things up horribly last year with the twins at the Yule Ball, and Daphne might still be mad at me—anyway, I've only just gotten to really know her, and Hermione . . . Hermione!" Harry slapped himself hard in the face. "I promised we wouldn't take long; we must have gone for . . ." Harry looked up at the sky. He was no expert, but he could tell it was now well into the late afternoon, at least a couple of hours since he'd left his friends on the lakeshore.

Harry groaned. "I promised them I'd be back soon, and I—Uhhhhhhhhh!"

Luna gently placed her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Harry. I just got caught up in all these wonderful feelings you give me, and I . . ." Her eyes became watery as she continued.

Harry wrapped his arms around her. "It's not your fault, Luna. I should have been more careful with the time, but . . . Luna, that was . . . magic. It's dumb, I suppose, but that's the best I can come up with, and if I had the choice, I'd do it all again." He looked directly into her eyes, just as he had the day he'd discovered who she was and who they were. "That is, if you wanted to, Luna," he said, leaning closer. "My consort." And then, he kissed her.
*]
[*Hallway Outside Gryffindor Tower; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 9, 1995; 6:45 p.m.

Harry climbed the steps to Gryffindor Tower. He and Luna had quickly dressed and then walked back to the Castle hand-in-hand. They had walked quickly but hadn't run. Harry didn't want to hurt his friends by taking even longer than he already was, but, at the same time, it felt right to go slow, to be aware of the feeling of Luna's hand in his own, hear the brisk way she stepped on the grass, smell her scent when the breeze blew their way . . .

They had parted at the Castle doors. As in love as they were, they had kept the presence of mind that their union was better off as a secret, at least for now. Luna had kissed him on the cheek and promised to meet up with him soon. Then, she'd skipped down the halls towards dinner. Harry'd followed after her a few minutes later. He hadn't seen either Hermione or Ron at the table, so he'd sat next to Neville, who looked like he was nearly finished.

"Hey, Harry," he'd remarked.

"Hi, Neville," Harry had responded as he helped himself to some roast beef.

"Where have you been?" the other boy asked, cautiously.

". . . with a friend," Harry had said, feeling his cheeks start to heat up. Partly, it was the memory of what he'd done with Luna; partly, it was from the feeling that, despite the fact that they'd mutually agreed to keep their relationship a secret, he felt he was cheapening their union somehow, disrespecting his beloved. She was so much more than his friend now.

Neville, however, had stared at him for a moment, then nodded and gone back to eating. Harry wasn't entirely sure what to make of that.

Despite being late, Harry ate more than he usually did, perhaps because of all the "exercise" he'd gotten that afternoon.

Now, he was simultaneously trying to reach his friends to apologize as quickly as possible, and desperately wishing he had more time to figure out what he was going to say to them. He certainly couldn't say that he'd just magically married Luna and . . . consummated their relationship. Hermione would go nuclear. That was discounting the whole "past lives, approaching apocalyptic war, polygamy" thing.

Thus, Harry did succeed at arriving at the Tower fairly quickly but still had no idea how he was going to explain his tardiness to his friends, aside from what he couldn't tell them. Sometimes, it was troubling how rarely Harry got to actually tell people the truth to people.

The Fat Lady's portrait swung open when Harry said the password. As he walked in, he saw that the commonroom was mostly empty, and that Hermione and Ron were sitting off to the side by themselves. As he approached them, Harry saw that Hermione looked . . . unhappy. Not angry, but . . . sad. She wasn't crying, but her face looked drained, somehow. There wasn't the life in her eyes she usually had when she was reading or plotting. It was not an expression Harry liked at all.

"'Mione?" he asked. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Harry," she said, tightly.

"Are you sur-"

"Yes, I'm sure," she cut him off, like a frost covered knife slicing a flower off its stalk.

Harry was taken aback by her tone, when Ron spoke up. "How was your date with Lovegood?" Harry spun around at Ron's voice . . . and at the face that it had originated from. He had seen Ron angry before, but not like this. Whereas Hermione seemed to be holding back tears, Ron looked like he wanted to belch venom at him. The shadows from the fire hid part of his face, but Harry could clearly make out the scowl and the eyes like coals. Looking down, Harry saw his friend's knuckles were white and red, in fact, his whole body looked like an angry dog waiting to spring. Harry had seen too many of those over the years—mostly, Aunt Marge's bulldogs—to miss the signs.

"Ginny," Hermione said. Harry turned back to her. "Ginny said she saw you two . . . kissing the other day." Hermione bit her lip. Harry wanted to believe that meant she hadn't intended to sound that angry.

"Oh," Harry said. "Hermione . . ." His brain scrambled for an explanation. The only thing he could come up with was Don't deny it. His relationship with his consort was still new and confusing, but there was one thing Harry was certain of: he loved Luna. He had loved her in different ways for three lifetimes already, and he certainly loved her now, and he would not deny that.

Problem was, he loved Hermione, too, and he was starting to worry that he might just lose her if he didn't come up with something fast.

Ironically, Hermione herself brought him out of his mental haze. "It's all right, Harry," she said. "If you really like her, you should . . . follow your feelings." She looked him in the eye, and Oh! how he hurt and trembled at the look in those eyes. There was so much pain—pain he'd unwillingly caused—but there was also that moral strength that so defined Hermione, something he'd always respected about her more than her brains . . .something that he had fallen in love with all over again. "Just," her breath hitched. "Just be good to her, Harry," she said. "I've heard a few things . . . I think she's more fragile than she lets on . . ."

"I know she is," Harry replied.
/]
[/"Hmph!" Ron grunted, slamming the book he had been "reading" shut. It turned out to be Standard Book of Spells, but it was opened to a page in the middle; they were still in the early pages for now. "I'm going to the Library," he declared, stomping out.

Harry stared after his friend's departure. What the heck is that about? Not knowing what else to do, however, he just slumped down in a chair, sighing.

"Does she know?"

Harry turned to look at Hermione, startled a little at her question. "What?" he asked.

She sighed. "Have you told Luna about the dreams?"

". . . yeah," he admitted. "She knew before I did," and, because his head was in his hands, he missed Hermione's look of utter shock.

Hallway Outside Gryffindor Tower; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 9, 1995; 6:47 p.m.

"Rrrhhhh!" Ron slammed his fist into the wall of the hallway. Stupid Harry! Bloody Hermione, doesn't she get it? Things had not gone as Ron had planned; instead of running to his arms when he told her that Harry was dating Lovegood, she just curled up and refused to speak to him.
/]
[/But she talks to him! Ron thought. Even Dumbledore had been unimpressed with Ron's news.

Headmaster's Office; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 9, 1995; 3:51 p.m.
"That is interesting, Mr. Weasley," the elderly Headmaster said. He was sitting behind his desk reading a book that, amazingly, looked older than he did.

"But, what about our plans?" Ron had whined. "Harry's supposed to marry Ginny!"

"It would be more convenient if he did so," Dumbledore had replied, "but it is not overly detrimental to my plans." When Ron had sulked in silence, he added, "Besides, Mr. Potter is young, yet. I expect he will breakup with Miss Lovegood at some point, and Ginny will be waiting for him with open arms." Ron hadn't known what to say to that, so the Headmaster concluded, " If that is all, why don't you head back to Gryffindor Tower?"

Ron fumed in silence but couldn't think of anything else to say. So, he forced out a "Yes, sir," turned around, and marched out.

Present

Ron kicked a column with his foot. Didn't the Headmaster understand what this meant? Ginny was born to be Harry's wife. Couldn't he see that she was perfect for Harry; couldn't Harry see? And, couldn't Hermione just give up on the scarred git and realize that she belonged with him? Heck, they were even Prefects together, wasn't that a sign? Harry didn't make Prefect, he thought to himself. I finally beat him in something big, and she doesn't even care. He remembered how happy she'd looked when she rushed into the room and thought Harry had gotten the badge and not him; how disappointed she'd been when they'd told her the badge was his and not Harry's . . . Ron kicked the wall again.

The angry red-head sulked off to the Owlery. Maybe his mum would know what to do . . .

Slytherin Dormitories; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 9, 1995; 10:30 p.m.

Daphne Greengrass slumped down on her pillow. Beside her, Tracy was already dozing, and beside her Stephanie was still prepping her hair so she wouldn't wake up with a crazy-looking mess on her head. Of course, that was why Daphne was a morning-shower-person.

The blond witch rolled over in her bed, trying to fall asleep, but there was so much on her mind. First, there was that . . . encounter with Potter that redefined melodrama—although, she still smiled as she recalled how he used courtesy to outwit Pansy and the others. Part of her was amazed that her little sister was still so innocent; another was amazed at how innocent Potter seemed to be.

It made her think of how he had acted in the past few years. He had always seemed more comfortable around people who came from a "lower" background than he did himself: the Muggleborn Granger, the Weasley family, and Neville Longbotto, who came from an important family but was generally considered little more than a Squib. In fact, Daphne could never remember seeing the young heir interacting with the children of his family's peers. To tell the truth, the dark-haired wizard didn't even act like the heir of such an old and prominent House. His manners were courtious, but crude, and he was perhaps the shiest boy she had ever seen. While not every Pureblood was as arrogant as Malfoy, most conducted themselves with dignity and pride; Potter seemed to avoid confrontation with everyone over everything—except bullies, Dark Wizards, or Trolls, apparently. On top of all that, he had been one of the worst dancers at the Yule Ball last year. Honestly, these were things every Pureblood from a moderately important House learned!

Of course, Potter was Halfblood, but his father's line was one of the oldest families in the British Isles. He had a higher claim to respect than the white-headed ferret Daphne shared a House with did!

Thinking back on Harry's manners caused Daphne to curl her fingers into her sheets, almost ripping them, as shame raised though her system like a terrible poison. She had never been particularly pleased with herself for taking the easy path and hanging out with Pansy in the hallways and the Commonroom—to tell the truth, she had been immensely proud of her little sister that morning, more proud than she'd been of herself in a long time—but actually admitting it to Harry Potter! The boy she-

Daphne stomped on that thought as though it were a cockroach. She was not going there! She had too few real friends to risk losing one!

That thought led to another one far, far more . . . bizarre.

Hogwarts Library; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 11, 1995; 6:47 p.m.

After dinner, just as Daphne was going to the Library to study with Story(and get away from Pansy and her pets—Tracey had already disappeared . . .somewhere), none other than "Loony" Lovegood herself had walked up to her! "Hello, Daphne," she said, smiling.

"He- hello, Lovegood," Daphne'd replied. Her brain searched for a reason this girl had to approach her.

"Dinner was lovely, wasn't it?" the snowy-haired girl had asked.

"Yes . . . it was."

"Um, excuse me," a voice said from her side. Daphne jumped a little, then remembered her little sister. Story was looking up at the new witch and asked, "Who are you?"

Daphne mentally groaned, both at her sister's innate friendliness and her utter lack of manners.

Lovegood, however, only smiled. "I'm Luna Lovegood, but everyone calls me 'Loony.'"

Story made a face. "That doesn't sound very nice."

"No," Luna said, still smiling. "It's not. What's your name?"

"Astoria Greengrass," the girl had answered promptly, while Daphne was still trying to wrap her mind around Luna's attitude. Who smiled when she admitted that she knew other people were being mean to her? Meanwhile, "Are you friends with my sister?" Story asked.

"I'd like to be," Luna had replied, breaking up the fog in Daphne's brain. Before she had a chance to talk to the other witch, however, Luna had said, "See you around, Daphne. Pleasant dreams." Then, she'd turned and walked away . . .

Present

Daphne sighed to herself. Luna had been nice, but that was definitely one of the strangest encounters she'd ever had. She pulled the sheets up tighter on herself; it was getting cold these nights.

Daphne Greengrass drifted off to sleep, and she dreamed of a tall, red-haired man with dragon tattoos on his arms, a pair of girls with breathtakingly familiar smiles, a red-headed woman holding a spear, and a dark-haired young man with a smile that make her heart beat faster and warmed the inside of her chest.

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Author's Notes: OK, first off, I didn't put a footnote at the end, because I won't insult anyone's intelligence by identifying who Daphne's dreaming about. (Not that you're dumb if you can't figure it out; you just haven't read "the books").

Secondly, I warned you all at the start of this chapter, I'm not onboard with how EVIL some authors make their Weasleys and Dumbledore. Yeah, they're still doing bad stuff (aside from Ginny), but that doesn't make them on par with Voldemort or the Wolf, Ram, and Hart.

Thirdly, I'm sure a few of you were disappointed that Harry and Luna didn't get to "go another round." Well, there will be more sex in the chapter or two, but only when I think it's appropriate. A wise person once said, the definition of pornography is turning the sublime into the simple, and I believe making love is supposed to be sublime (at least in this story). That's why the scene between Harry and Luna is full of confusion. I wanted to really captured what I thought there first time would be like. As relationships develop and the characters mature, these scenes will become (I believe) smoother, shorter, more often, and (for want of a better term) "dirtier."

Footnotes:

(1) Yes, I'm going there. Basically, having read the (sadly) abandoned "Harem War" and the (annoyingly slow to update) Curse's Cure and the works of zArkham (who is-for the most part-awesome, by the way), I just really like the whole "wives, consorts, and concubines" thing. For those of you reading Son of a Snake, I won't say whether or not there are hetaerae in this universe (mostly because I haven't decided yet).

(2) At the risk of spoiling some of The Lord of Chaos for you. Yes, Aviendha did seriously consider killing Rand (and herself) at one point (because she slept with him after promising her friend, Elayne, that she wouldn't let any other women get their hands on him).

(3) Again, risking spoiling Wheel of Time, but Min did once have a Viewing where Aviendha gives birth to two sets of twins (at once!), and Aviendha herself had a vision of a possible future where her daughters where named Padra and Marinna.

(4) OK, I felt it would be best if I confronted this issue head on, since I knew it was going to come up ever since Chapter 4. I can't really think of anything else to say except: HARRY HAS NOT BEEN RAISED WITH HIS SOULMATES IN THIS LIFE! HE HAS NO BIOLOGICAL RELATION TO THEM! HIS MEMORIES OF THEM AS FAMILY ARE VERY VAUGE! LOVING THEM IS NOT INCEST! If you can't get you're head around that, you may want to consider stopping now because, minor spoiler, everyone of Harry's soulmates has been a relative at some point or another in the past four ages and will be again sometime in the next three!