Harry Potter 1. Prologue

Warnings: Main canonical mentions are as following; Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy. There is a slight romantic relationship between Draco Malfoy and Silas Astran (original character). If you do not approve of such relationships, please take your leave with elegance and honor.

Author's Note: This is a purely non-canonical piece of fanfiction, though it is intended to seem canonical to the movies. Forgive me for any discrepancies, if you see any blaring mistakes in plot, please do let me know, it may or may not be intentional. I do not own any part of Harry Potter, that honor is held by J. K. Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury and etc. **  
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><p><strong>Athazagoraphobia <strong>

_( the fear of being forgotten or ignored or forgetting )_

Prologue

It was done.

The war was done. Finished.

There are still a few death eaters at large, but in hiding, they were as dangerous as a bull Finch to a rhinoceros.

He stood on the balcony of his castle, the same one his grandfather stood from. He finally saw what his grandfather had seen. Craggy, gaunt but terribly majestic mountainsides stared back at the viewer, with patches of luscious greenery carpeting the cliff edges, clinging onto life from a precarious location. The winged horses grazed among the grass they could find, resting in the caves carved in the side of the mountain. Not a single house or tenant of society in sight. He was isolated, alone, so very lonely.

He couldn't hear his parents chortling over his precious baby sister, but he knew they must be somewhere in the castle doing just that. Isolated from the war where no one could reach them, they didn't know what it had been like. War's fingers were not long enough to reach this part of the world. Even Society s sneaky appendages could not reach it.

From here, he could have lived, staring out into the mountains, imagining what it was like to be in the war, or perhaps ignoring it completely. From the castle balcony he could have waited for the war to blow over. From here, he could have lived his entire life peacefully. From his castle, he could have lived.

No amount of doting or comforting from his parents could change anything. No amount of potions and spells could help him forget. Fatigue dragged him down when he was awake, but his dreams made it impossible to sleep. The dreamless sleep potion had worked for a time, but after a while, he grew immune to it. There was little he could do, without a therapist. Due to his secluded location, miles and countries away from Britain, there weren't ant therapists that were either close enough to floo, and if they were, they didn't even know there had been a war and therefore would be of no use.

Had it been the right decision to fight? Had they needed him? Or would they have been alright without him? In his worst moments, he feared his aid had been in vain, and his pain could have been avoided. In his self pitying state, he would cope by telling himself his efforts made a difference in the war. Yet other times, like now, he didn't care whether it made even the slightest of differences or none at all, because it hurt too much to think of it.

Sometimes he wanted to blame his parents for being supporters of Voldemort before his disappearance and were expected to return which caused him so much trouble evading them. He chuckled to himself. What if something had gone wrong? What if someone had discovered his memories. What would he have done. He wouldn't have been able to remember his home, or his life or his friends. Not that they could remember him.

Everytime he tried to understand, he couldn't remember why exactly he had removed the memories of himself from his friend minds. He only remembered that he had done it and the next day, he was all alone. No one said hi to him, no one would acknowledge him as a friend. They only knew he was a student at Hogwarts, and that they had other things to be doing. He wondered if they ever got the feeling something was missing.

It was a mistake on his part and completely immoral. It had not been his right to take those memories from them. They were not his. It took him months to come up with a solution. It was hapless and an incomplete answer to his problem, but it was the best he could think of.

The war was finished, and he fixed the only regrets he had in life. He was ready.

He looked over the edge of the balcony and immediately regretted it. Nausea filled his throat as he recalled his grandfather. The craggy rocks would be unforgiving.

He wondered if his parents would forgive him they wouldn't be so bitter, now that they had another heir. He was pretty sure they had not wanted to give him the inheritance anyways since he had told them he would never be able to produce a true heir, or marry a woman of their choice because of his orientation. They had taken the news with stony faces, perfected after years of pureblooded parties, etiquette and raising. He still couldn't tell what they were thinking. He would probably never be sire. That was just how it was.

He never could understand anyone.

Taking a deep breath. The turned around to look at his castle. His safe haven. His life.

He straightened himself again, looking forward and jumped.


	2. Part One: Letter to Luna Lovegood

Author's Note: I apologize beforehand if there are any missing punctuation, it seems as though some of them were lost in the transfer between the txt file and the upload. I tried to go in and fix all of them. If I missed something, please let me know. Much gratitude for taking the time to read. Hope you enjoy.

EDIT: Fixed the bit about the Golden Trio returning to Hogwarts together... since that actually hadn't happened.

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><p><strong>Letter To Luna Lovegood<strong>

"Luna!" She looked up from her upside down book on Dabberblimps, to see the familiar face of Hermione Granger waving to her from their seats at the Gryffindor table. She waved back. She once saw them over the summer at a small party or get together. The Golden Trio had been there, the last she'd seen them before coming to Hogwarts. She couldn't say she had been expecting it, but she hadn't been surprised when Ron and Harry told everyone they wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts to redo their seventh year. She remembered their smiles and how they've changed since she first met them. Hermione with her knowing, sincere but tired little smile, Ron with his broken but strong semi-grin and Harry with his angst-ridden, hardened quirk of his lips. It was hard not to notice the burdens they still carried. This is how it would be for the rest of their lives. The secrets and strange things that happened that they aren't necessarily proud of. It would be hard to forget and perhaps those things aren't supposed to be forgotten. It felt like such a long time ago that they were fighting at Hogwarts, wondering if they would live to see the next day.

They were all surprised how quickly McGonagall had gotten Hogwarts rebuilt. At the time, just after all the casualties and injured were dealt with, reconstruction of the school from the ruins that remained seemed impossible. But somehow, it was done, just in time for the new school year. Of course it had taken a lot of help, mostly from the professors who thought it important to rebuild to old school, alumni, and anyone who wanted to help. Hogwarts wouldn't ever be exactly the same, but perhaps it was for the better.

After days and weeks over arguing whether the housing should remain the same, they decided that it is too large a tradition in the Hogwarts history to abolish. Many believed the inter house rivalry to be a part of the blame for what happened in the war. But, others were just as stubborn to leave the houses as they were but attempt to increase inter-housing interactions. Most sided with the latter of the argument.

Whatever the case, those who fought in the war, or escaped the war were invited back into the arms of Hogwarts to finish their incomplete schooling. Some of the seventh years who were supposed to have graduated the year before, returned to complete what they had started and perhaps to take a break from the real world they were so suddenly dumped into.

She was happy to be back too. To see all her friends. Being back without the worry of the years before the war and before she was captured. Yet, there were sometimes when she tried to remember things that she felt this strange emptiness in her mind. It was like there was a memory or memories in a room in her mind that had it s hinges glued in place. She knew there was something there because every now and then, when she was talking to her father about a magical creature or when she saw a Thestral, she had a nostalgic feeling of camaraderie, yet for the life of her, she couldn t remember towards whom she felt this strong friendship.

In all honesty, it was rather irritating, though she tried not to show it too much when she thought about it. It was not a good feeling to not be able to remember a friend. Friends were important after all.

Just then the flurry of owls came flying in, dropping parcels and letters to their intended recipients. Luna was surprised to find one falling into her lap just as she reached the paragraph about the Dapperblimp's strange hunting techniques.

Setting her book down on the table, still opened to the page she left off, she examined her package. It was heavily fortified with a Cushioning spell, a Protection Spell and a few other precautionary spells that would ward it from harm. Her name was written in neat and precise cursive letters that looked uncannily familiar. Disabling the charms and spells, she gently ripped the brown covering open, revealing a small letter and a wooden box, with equally as many charms and spells.

The envelope did not have her name written on it. Only _To My Dearest Friend_ was written in shaky, tall, elegant letters, but she assumed it was for her, since it would be silly otherwise. She opened the envelope after tapping it twice on the table edge for good luck.

As she unfolded the letter, she noticed the crest of a familiar family name.

_Dear Luna,_

_I hope this letter finds you well, healthy and happy. It would be the least that you deserve for what you have done for this world and for me. I cannot begin to thank you for all the times and the precious moments you have so elegantly graced me with. You have a beautiful soul, one of the most radiant I have ever seen and I would find it the most grievous error to find it otherwise. Therefore, I must return to you what I have stolen from you, not so that you may forgive me, nor remember me, but so that your memory will be whole and unblemished again._

_I cannot return to you your own memories, as I have completely Obliviated them, and I do not believe even the most intelligent of wizards or witches can find a way to bring back obliviated memories. It was a grand sin on my part to cause such personal injury, especially on your mind and for that I am sorry and I can only say it was due to my youthful naivety and folly. I have thought long and hard about how to return to you your memories, but I could only find this one, second-hand and unfortunately incomplete method._

_In the box I have sent with this letter are four memories, the four main ones that I have taken from you. There are others that I have taken, but unfortunately that would require me to send you possibly a hundred vials and you will probably bore from the quantity that you would need to view. Though, if you ever want to see anything else, I will not hide anything from you. I am willing to share anything you desire with you in relevance to your memories. The first one is the time when we met for the first time. The second is the time when we spoke about our futures. I included it because the words you spoke may have been the very phrase that saved me. The third is the memory I have of the very last thing we did together. And the fourth is of the time when I took away the memories. I have already asked permission from Headmaster Dumbledoore and Headmaster McGonagall to use Dumbledoore s Pensieve. If you just ask Headmaster McGonagall to use it, I am hoping she will allow you to use it to view these memories._

_These memories I have sent are my own, from my own perspective of the scene, so unfortunately I will not be able to show you what you were thinking at the time. I have made sure however to include my thoughts in these memories, so that you may see my intentions. I only wish to compensate you for my misgivings._

_I understand this letter comes to you as a surprise, and perhaps you do not wish to remember me. Perhaps you would rather forget everything about me, and I do not mind. It is your choice now. It was never mine to decide. I have finally understood that. If you do wish to remember, I hope you have the heart to forgive me for what I have done._

_You are a beacon of light in the darkness, forever and always._

Semper fidelis, nunquam amissus.

_Silas Astran._

She read over the letter again, just to make sure she hadn t missed something. There was something overly familiar about the letter and the sender. When she read the name, a wave of warm comfort came over her and the muscles she had unknowingly tensed, relaxed.

Of course she would view these memories. Today was a Saturday, yes. She would go to McGonagall as soon as breakfast was complete, to view the memories.

Quickly she ate and hurried to the great eagle statue. Hopefully McGonagall would be in there. Saying the password she entered, only to be second to Hermione Granger. It was only moments before Neville came too.

"Neville? What are you doing here? And Luna?" Hermione asked. It seemed McGonagall wasn t there yet.

Neville blushed, "I got a letter telling me I should come here."

"You too? and you Luna?" She asked, turning to her.

"Yep. It was quite an interesting set of instructions." She added, absentmindedly.

The door opened again, and they had expected Ginny or Harry, but instead Draco Malfoy stepped in, looking suddenly alarmed by the crowd of people in the room. They all had questions leaping at the their throat when Headmistress McGonagall entered, clearing her throat.

She looked at each of them with the same look she gives her students when they do well on an essay." It take it then you have all received your packages and letters explaining the predicament?" They nodded. "It is usually rude and immoral to look into another person s memories, but since you all have permission, I am granting you the opportunity to view them through the Pensieve. However, you may not attempt to see the memories that have been intended for someone else s eyes, therefore, I must ask you to come up one at a time and the rest of you sit and amuse yourselves as you wait."

They all nodded again, not seeing much room for argument. Mostly they were just confused and too curious to care.

"Miss Lovegood, if you would care to go first." McGonagall held out her hand and led her to the Pensieve, showing her how to pour the first memory into the bowl.

She took a deep breath and entered the memory.


	3. Thestrals and Apples

Author's Note: Although I highly doubt it, I hope it's getting a bit more interesting for you? I suppose this is a strange method of writing a fanfiction. My apologies for any confusion with the formatting.

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><p><strong>Thestrals and Apples<strong>

He gingerly rubbed a Thestral mare's back, letting it nuzzle him on the hip.

"Beautiful creatures aren't they?" A soothing gentle voice bubbled behind him like a trickling brook.

Startled by the unexpected visitor, Silas's hand brushed close to his pocket where he had his wand hidden. It was a girl, with golden, silky waves that should have been classified as Snidget feathers as opposed to human hair. He was always so jealous of people gifted with the angelic gold or white colored hair he'd always wanted. However, his strawberry blond hair had prevented him from living life with confidence and vanity, so instead he lived with mild satisfaction of being the 'guy in the corner' with brooding black hair."

Why black hair? Because black is the opposite of the color he ever so desires, representing his inability to ever reach such level of attractiveness. Besides, with black hair, people didn't bother you. They avoided you. He was alright with that.

Seeing as he was too stunned to respond, the girl said, "My name is Luna. Luna Lovegood. What's your name?"

Her voice was so gentle and whimsical that even his paranoia couldn't fend off the trust he easily gave to her. From the colors of her scarf she was also a fellow Ravenclaw. He coughed to clear his throat when he realized he wasn't actually talking and that most people actually expected him to speak when asked a question. "I am called Silas Astran. And in regards to your previous question, yes, they are quite beautiful. Such misunderstood creatures. Pity that most people fear them. They are fantastic steeds when need be." As if understanding the compliment the mare next to him made a sort of heavy huffing noises and buried her muzzle in his pocket where he was hiding a few pieces of dried jerky.

Nodding in agreement, Luna noted, "Yes, you seem to know a fair bit about Thestrals," as she glided up to the same mare and patted it on it's other flank. "And you can see them." It wasn't the tone that alarmed him, since it had not changed since she had first begun to converse with him, but the fact that she continued to speak to him. Most people found his lack of quick response to be detrimental to the conversation, even amongst his fellow Ravenclaw. She must be like him. She must understand him, that's the only reason why she would even bother.

Again, much more delayed than the average person, he nodded, a small movement of his neck, that was neither much of a movement at all nor a bob of his head, just a little tucking of his chin. He didn't really like to do unneccesary things, like make movements with more than the necessary amount of energy.

"You also seemed to possess higher visibility skills and experience than the average student," He said, his voice quivering, like a spinning top that was about to wobble. He wanted to ask who she had seen die that allowed her to see these creatures, but for once thought to be more sensitive, since it is quite a touchy subject, despite the fact that he had no qualms about informing another about his own experience with death. He had to remind himself that not everyone was like him. Not everyone was so comfortable with the idea of death, for the exception of perhaps the famed Harry Potter, since there seemed to be dying people dropping left and right around him. Though, perhaps that thought was also a bit crudely insensitive. At least it was not projected out loud.

His thoughts were interrupted after some time from his companion, "Yeah, I saw my mother die in a failed experiment when I was 9, so I can see them. How about you, if you don't mind me asking?"

He had to admit, he was fairly surprised at her willingness to reveal such information to a stranger, but perhaps it was easier this way, as opposed to releasing information to a close friend who would probably feel pity or some sort of sympathetic emotion, when really it was just a matter of fact ordeal. "My grandfather threw himself off our balcony and was impaled on the cliff side after my grandmother passed away." Strangely, his voice was more calm, speaking of the death of his grandfather as opposed to the normal conversation phrases that should come naturally to him. Just shows how skewed his perception of comfort was.

He could actually remember every detail of the day clearly. It was perhaps the day after the funeral they had for his Squib grandmother. It was a simple Muggle ceremony since she was more of a Muggle than her husband wanted to imagine her to be. After all, even if she were a Squib, she was as beautiful as a Veela in the days of her prime. Her husband was madly in love with her and even when she was alive, could not be apart from her side, or else he would fall ill. It was a crippling effect, especially when he had to go on business meetings with his investors and such. Which was the reason why they ended up buying a secluded castle on the side of a mountain in Switzerland and began to breed winged horses, since they both loved the avian relative of the equine.

At first, his parents thought that the otherwise foolhardy, tough man would get over her death and continue on with his life breeding horses, however, they were too confident in his quiet composure. Silas had been out, taking one of the Abraxans out for a flight when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. His home was built to over look a steep canyon, with jagged rock protrusions lining the cliff and much of the area at the bottom of the canyon. His grandfather had been out on the balcony, looking out in the distance. At first Silas' had thought he was watching over him, however instead, he climbed over the railing and jumped.

He had thought time forgot how fast it was supposed to fly just then, as he watched his grandfather's blurred figure plummet to the ground below and inevitably skewered himself on the jagged rocks. For a long time, he hung limply on his steed's back, unable to move, unable to ride, unable to think. He actually had fallen out of his saddle and probably would have followed his grandfather's untimely death, but thankfully his parents had also been riding and caught him before he hit the ground.

Since then, he hadn't been able to fly again. The feeling of falling had chased away any joy he had of flying. He couldn't even ride a broomstick, in fear of falling. In fact, he'd much rather ride a winged horse than a broom, since he trusted the stability of a horse better, but they weren't exactly permitted at Hogwarts, so he was not allowed to bring one. His only comfort was in visiting these Thestrals that were born from the five his grandfather had once donated to Hogwarts. Although he may never ride one again, at least they reminded him of home.

Noting how he had fallen once again into the sea of his thoughts, Luna kept her commentary to herself, until Silas' eyes flickered back to her, to which she said, "You're a Ravenclaw, aren't you?" as she attempted to coax the Thestral to eat an apple.

Distracted by the improper dietary offering, he said, "They won't eat that, here," he procured a slice of raw meat he grabbed from the kitchen, "try this." Handing her the slab of meat, he took the apple from her other hand and shined it on his shirt.

As the mare tore happily at the chunk of meat, he thought of how observant this young girl was. He hadn't been wearing any colors that would have given any sort of indication which house he was affiliated to, but he assumed his personality and demeanor was enough to give it away. Although compared to the other Ravenclaws, he really wasn't much of a fit, considering how he thought himself rather dull looking while his peers seemed to have a trend of being fairly attractive. He was also not very studious, only that he has rather clear memory, or rather a slight form of photographic memory. His creativity and resourcefulness were debatable, and the only reason why he would be put in this house was because he wouldn't have fit in any of the other Houses either. He was a misfit.

"Yes, you are correct." He said, trying his best not to go off on tangents of his own. Normally, he would wish a conversation to end as quickly as it is struck, however today, particularly with this fellow Ravenclaw, he had a slight feeling he craved a few more exchanged words. "May I ask why you are out here?" It was after classes certainly, however, there were many things one could be doing in these meager hours of daylight other than grooming these eerie creatures.

She shrugged, "I thought I might find something interesting here."

He arched an eyebrow. "Did you find something interesting?"

She looked up at him, straight in the eye, her silvery grey eyes striking him in the soul. "I found you." She said as if she were stating the sky was blue today

Returning from the memory, she actually felt better. Although she couldn't remember exactly how that event had occurred, by witnessing it, she felt that some of the lingering emotions that weren't erased entirely, finally fell into place. It was a strange feeling to witness a memory she did not remember from another person's point of view, but it was certainly interesting.

Retracting the first memory, she quickly poured the second, eager to see the next scene.


	4. Thestrals and Hope

Author's Note: I lack further words to explain myself, other than clarifying that these memories are around October. I feel I didn't capture Luna's personality quite right, and unfortunately I cannot seem to figure out a better way to write her. Oh the woes of a fanfiction writer. Thanks again for sitting through this. I know it can be tedious.

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><p><strong>Thestrals and the Future<strong>

"Luna! We really shouldn't be out here!" He stumbled over a root. It was still the afternoon, but the Forbidden Forest was always a bit frightening even at its brightest moments. He knew where they were going. They were going to where the Thestral herd was probably residing. They really shouldn't be out here. If Umbridge found out, they would live the rest of their lives in her office, subjected to her strange forms of punishment and detentions. It would be a living hell, albeit a bit pinker.

"Come along." She said. He huffed, unable to really make much argument against the blonde mane of hair when she was determined to do something or get somewhere. He awkwardly stepped over a fallen tree trunk nearly falling to his death when his foot couldn't quite find the right traction on the slippery wood. Cursing under his breath because he was startled out of his mind, he got up, his bum sorer than it had been a moment ago.

He felt a chill run up his spine as they approached the vacant cluster of trees where the Thestrals should have been. Where had they gone? What was going on? They should be here. Did something happen to them? He hoped not. They were his saving grace when he was feeling homesick. Not that he was at the moment, but he really did like them. They were... special to him. He stopped walking when he reached the center of the small clearing, his feet crunching the leaves. He turned to Luna, waiting for her cue.

She looked just as lost as he did, "Where are they?"

He gave another look around the clearing, searching for clues. They may have just left to go hunt, but usually they would have a few adults stay with the adolescents and foals that aren't big enough to hunt. So perhaps they left to another spot, somewhere... safer maybe? He had heard that the centaurs were getting restless, but they wouldn't bother Thestrals. Not normally. They didn't care for each other. In fact, centaurs rarely cared about much other than keeping their own kind and the forest safe.

He tried his hardest to think of a reason why the Thestrals would have moved places. Then he finally noticed the silence. There wasn't any sounds coming from the forest. There was a distant call of some animal, but in the near vicinity, there weren't any birds, animals or creatures. He nearly smacked himself up against the head, of course. They probably just moved on from this area to search for a more abundant supply of food since Hagrid had gone M.I.A. since the beginning of the year and would not be able to feed them like he probably usually did.

He'd lived long enough around Thestrals to find their tracks, and their patterns. They usually moved to the West where it would be darker or where the forest got denser. He never did understand the latter end of the pattern, since the density of the trees would only get in the way of their flying, but that's how it worked, so that's where they would go. He took Luna's hand in his, for a moment, distracted by the fact that her hand was so cold. Squeezing it gently, he hoped absentmindedly his warmth would reach her.

Like second nature, he found them again, all roaming languidly around in the shadows of the trees, occasionally flapping their wings or snapping at each other. Making sure not to scare them, he made slow deliberate steps towards them, "Don't worry, it's just us." His voice was steady and just above a whisper. Luna followed behind him, watching the Thestrals dreamily.

"You did find them." She muttered. He glanced towards her for a brief moment, an eyebrow arching.

"I came down here the other day and they were gone. I was wondering where they had gone, but I didn't think it would be a good idea for me to go into the forest alone. I thought you would know how to find them." She explained in the airy sort of way she always spoke. Her hand slipped away from his and she glided closer to the nearest Thestral, carefully outstretching a hand, asking for permission to pet them.

He stayed back, watching her interact with the macabre-looking creature. The contrast was stark. Her golden, lively innocence, juxtaposed against the gaunt and grim facade of the Thestral. Without looking back at him she asked, "How did you know?"

He should have been prepared for the question, but he was caught unprepared, distracted by her blonde hair. He clamped his jaw, forcing himself not to rush and stutter into an answer. Did she want to know everything? Or just the facts? He decided to go with the latter option. "Thestrals tend to like dark and dense forest environments. Usually that means going to the West and wherever the forest is thicker."

He barely caught the next question, between freaking out about whether his answer was good enough and hyperventilating about if he should add anything else. "How do you know so much about them?" It was an innocent question, but for him, it mind as well have been asking him whether he wanted to go to Azkaban or die. How should he answer? Truthfully? Or should he pass it off as knowledge cultivated from his studiousness in Care of Magical Creatures? Would she catch his lie? Probably, she was like that. Why was he so afraid to answer the question? Why was he so afraid of letting people know about his past.

Still trying to figure out what to say, he strode up, next to Luna, keeping his eyes forward. Well here goes nothing. "My grandfather and now my father, breeds Winged Horses. I grew up learning all about them. How to track them down. How to call them to you. How to ride them. Things like that nature."

"Can you teach me how to ride one?" She continued to stroke the sinewy skin of the Thestral.

He froze. Teach her how to ride one? His throat clamped up. A cold sweat began to form on his forehead, draining him of his strength. His knees felt weak. Oh god, he hoped he wasn't going to faint. That would be embarrassing. How could he tell her that he couldn't ride one, therefore wouldn't be able to show her properly? He could try his best to teach her from the ground, but his grandfather always said that not only did the learning of how to ride a winged horse must be done in the air, but also the teaching, or else it would mean nothing. It would be like a fish trying to teach the swallow how to fly.

He turned to see Luna watching him, for once focused entirely on him. He felt a breeze of courage filling him, just a little bit. He could feel it in his toes. Minute and almost unnoticeable, but definitely there. For Luna, the angel that found him, he would at least try. "I could try." He meekly smiled, a rare happenstance, but he felt he need some reassurance. Not reassurance for Luna, but for himself. He needed to know that everything would be alright and that he wouldn't fall like the last time.

He clenched his hand into a fist, willing it to stop shaking, but he couldn't stop his entire body from trembling. A hand rested on his arm. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

He shook his head. He needed to do this. He had to, for Luna. Because she was a friend. She was more important than the fears that choked his soul. He would do it. "No, I want to, but we'll have to do it when we have more time. This Saturday? In the morning?" He was really just stalling for time. He knew he wasn't mentally prepared at the moment, not enough to get on a Thestrals' back, just yet, but perhaps if he had time to think it through and soothe his nerves, it wouldn't go so bad.

She nodded her head, "Alright."

He breathed a little easier now, but he knew in a few more days, the terrifying feeling of fear would return, just as he feels he's comfortable with the idea and punch him in the gut. Just like every time he thought about the future. And about what the Daily Prophet was trying to cover up. The headlines continued to reassure everyone that You-know-who hadn't returned and that Harry Potter was a liar and a fool, but he wasn't so sure. There was something wicked arising in the horizon and if it wasn't You-know-who, he feared to know what this new unknown would be. At least with You-know-who, they had a clear idea what he was striving for and what they were fighting against. But if it wasn't, then who knows what to expect.

He knew one day, if it were You-know-who returning, that he would have to Obliviate his friends and take his memories of them away, save them somewhere he couldn't find until much later. They would come for him. He could feel it in his bones. His parents had taught him what to do when the occasion arose. He would have to sacrifice himself in order to protect his parents. He would have to sacrifice everything in order for the Astran name to live. His parents could have another heir, but if he were to reveal them too, there would be no hope. You-know-who would already figure out that he didn't have their support once again and would kill them.

With Silas staying detached from the family however, there was a chance that You-know-who would simply see him as another minion and spare his life. Then he could hope that the right side would win. Even if he couldn't be on the right side, he could help them now. Before he had to go through with all the memory erasing and hiding. He could help his friends.

Which is why he had to teach Luna how to ride a Thestral. Just in case, the occasion arose when she couldn't fly a broomstick or Apparate.

He watched as Luna waltzed over to a young Thestral foal and began to feed it pieces of raw meat. "Do you ever wonder about the future?" He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but it was out before he realized it.

She turned back to him, "Sure, but I don't worry about it. It will come when it comes, but until then, we just have to worry about the present."

How was she so wise?

How was it that she was so perfect?

How could he betray her later?

But that would be in the future, and all he should worry about is the present. And the dark that was beginning to settle, much too soon. They should get back to the castle now, before anyone catches them out and tattles to Umbridge. There was something strange rustling in the leaves.

A storm was coming. There wasn't much time left.

He wrapped his cloak around tightly around him, casting a Warming Charm on the both of them against the coming winter winds.

Yes, winter was coming.

He would have to prepare soon. For the winter. For the future.

* * *

><p>It was only a passing remark, but somehow it had given Silas strength. She was certain that even if she still had all of her memories, she would not have remembered the words so distinctly. In the memory, the words stood out, crystalline and a bit louder than the rest of the conversation. Obviously, he had found great importance in those words.<p>

Only two more left.


End file.
