Author's Note: Yeah, I know, this update is more than just a couple months coming. I'm sorry it took so long. Can anybody guess which "Imperial" Luna mentions in this chapter?

Chapter 6

Twenty minutes in the air was enough to prove Harry a far superior seeker. Even though he rode an old school broom, none of the others trying out for the position came close to his speed or skill.

Much to his annoyance, he made the team. Neville and Hermione had congratulated him while Luna had muttered something about bludgers and House-Elf heroes.

Sometimes Harry really began to wonder what reality Luna lived in. It seemed like an amusing place.

Classes were… mildly entertaining. After confirming the uselessness of Lockhart and his books for herself, Hermione had decided to spend the following classes with the buffoon poking holes in everything he said. Harry was just grateful she had stopped drawing hearts on everything.

All in all, other than the bothersome amount of time taken up by Quidditch practice, everything seemed to be going well. Which was why the letter from his grandmother was confusing, to say the least.

"Something wrong, Harry?"

"Huh? No, Mione," said Harry, unwilling to reveal more than he had to. At least about Coruscant. "Lu, what did your father say about you being sorted into Gryffindor?"

Luna looked up from her embroidery-was that some sort of spaceship? It looked rather similar in design to a TIE of some sort-and said, "'I wish you well in your new life.' Could you teach me your native tongue? I would love to learn Galactic Basic."

Harry was really beginning to wish that he hadn't told Luna and Hermione the name of the language. But without knowning any Earth languages other than English, Latin, and Greek, he'd been forced to tell them the truth. Part of him knew that Hermione would soon realize that he did not come from a known part of Earth, and soon enough, he would have to explain that there really was life on other planets. But he wanted to avoid that conversation for as long as possible.

"Could you teach me as well?" asked Hermione.

Harry sighed. Let the games begin. "You in, Nev? Can't be any harder to teach three than it is to teach two."

By the time Halloween came around, Harry was ready to drop. From sunrise to sunset, his time was spent in class, Quidditch practice, or with his friends. At night he struggled to do as much schoolwork from the New Republic as possible.

Harry was still trying to figure out what Voldemort was up to. But other than general unrest and that odd letter from his grandmother, he had nothing but hunches.

And Luna was acting odd-even for her. She had started putting together what could only be her dowry in her spare time, even though Harry knew she was not yet betrothed. Harry just hoped that Arabella's letter had not been hinting that she was arranging for him to marry Luna. He liked her well enough, but found her much too crazy to consider as a wife. At least in his opinion.

Luna was knitting, crocheting, and weaving a multitude of blankets, shirts, trousers, pillows, and tapestries. All of her pillows, blankets, and tapestries had images of objects and scenes not found on Earth. Although Harry did wonder why she had so many blue glaciers.

Harry still hadn't figured out where Luna had gotten her looms from-or why it was in Hogwarts. But the looms, along with the rest of her dowry related projects took up a prominent spot in the Gryffindor Common Room, the hidden room they spent most of their time in, and the girl's dormitory-according to Hermione.

Not particularly keen on the idea of being around so many people, they had decided to eat dinner in the hidden room. It was the anniversary of the deaths of Harry's parents and the day before the anniversary of the day Neville's parents were tortured to insanity. Neither Harry nor Neville wanted to celebrate, something the girls seemed to have understood.

"Why are you making men's clothing?" asked Hermione, her curiosity finally getting the better of her.

Luna blinked at Hermione. "It's for my dowry."

"You're not betrothed yet," pointed out Neville.

"Perhaps, but soon I will be."

"Betrothed? Are arranged marriages common?"

Harry shrugged. "When my grandmother was a kid, the only witches and wizards that didn't have arranged marriages were Muggle-Borns and the occasional Half-Blood."

"That's barbaric," protested Hermione.

"It's not that bad," shrugged Neville. "These days, only the blood purists and the traditionalists arrange marriages for their children. Well, most of the time. I don't have an arranged marriage and neither does Harry."

"Who's the lucky wizard?" asked Harry.

"Oh, he's not a wizard, he's a Muggle," confided Luna. She then said four words in Basic.

"Hell no!" snapped Harry. "Just-no. No. You are not marrying an Imperial!"

"Being the son of an Imperial does not automatically make one a member of the Remnant," Luna explained.

"Doesn't matter. You will not-"

"I will, Harry. He's a good man."

"Bu-"

"Let's head back to the Common Room," suggested Neville.

It was the boy again. He, along with the brown haired boy and girl with bushy brown hair from Jaina's first vision were walking down a stone hallway. With them was a girl with long blonde hair.

The blonde looked at Jaina for several long minutes, walking backward, then nodded. She slowed, falling behind the other three, before settling at a good pace to walk beside Jaina. How had she known? Nobody else had ever seen her before. It must have been her imagination.

The black haired boy stopped, glanced around, and then began to run. Jaina, along with the others followed closely. Several hallways later, they came to a halt.

Something was written on the wall in front of her. Was that written in-Oh Force, it was. Someone had written something in blood. A small cat was tied to the wall below the writing.

As people began to gather, Jaina spoke, knowing that nobody would hear her. "What does that say?"

The blonde turned to look at Jaina again. In heavily accented Basic, she said, "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware."

"Y-you can hear me?" Jaina gasped.

"Of course I can."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Luna, that's Harry, Neville, and Hermione," she said, motioning toward her companions.

"I'm Jaina."

"I know."

Jaina awoke with a smile. Now she knew what the black haired boy's name was.

Curling up to go back to sleep, Jaina wondered how Luna had seen her. Or for that matter, how Luna had heard her.

Harry walked ontot he Quidditch pitch, not bothering to hide his annoyance. Sure he enjoyed Quidditch well enough, but this Chamber of Secrets thing was much more important. The story they'd heard from Bins didn't come close to explaining it.

But he did love his new broom. Riding his Nimbus 2000 was almost as enjoyable as flying a ship.

Jaina blinked, a bit surprised to have another dream so soon after the last. A quick glance was enough to tell her that she was at an event of some sort. Perhaps a sport.

She was in a crowded stand high up in the air. Hermione and Neville were to her left, both prominently wearing red and gold. Luna was to her right, wearing red and gold, a large fake furry head atop her hear.

"Harry is over there," said Luna. "The one in red and gold above the others."

"What's going on?" asked Jaina, her eyes never leaving Harry and his strage flying stick.

"A Quidditch game."

Luna then began to explain the rules. She occasionally speculated on if the Weasley twins (two of Harry's teammates) shared everything or asked about strange creatures such as Nargles and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.

Jaina barely heard Luna, watching in growing horror as a bludger chased Harry relentlessly. There was a short break as Harry talked to the Weasley twins and the team captain, then continued, with the bludger on his trail. The ten year old tried not to scream as the bludger his Harry, obviously breaking something.

Somehow he caught the small silver and gold ball before crashing to the ground.

Harry let out a silent string of curses that would have made Wes proud. Gilderoy kriffing Lockhart had "healed" his arm, leaving it boneless. It was times like these that he really missed bacta. Skele-grow could be used as a torture device.

He tried not to move as he felt somebody sponge his forhead.

"Who are you?" asked Harry, realizing that whoever it was felt different from Madam Pomphrey. His good hand rested on a vibroblade he had hidden from the school nurse.

"Dobby, Harry Potter sir. Just Dobby," said the House-Elf in a high pitched voice. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir."

"Uh… right. Why are you here?" asked Harry, putting on his glasses. He didn't bother to asked why the elf thought him the boy-who lived.

"Harry Potter sir must leasve," said Dobby. "Much danger you are in."

"What sort of danger?"

"Mustn't tell. Can't tell. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named knows the truth-knows who you are. Tried to warn you, but-"

"Warn how?"

"Tried to stop the owl-post, but the other House-Elves at the post office wouldn't let me. Dobby thought if Harry Potter sir didn't receive letters, he would not return to Hogwarts. And Harry Potter sir was to miss the train, but sir caused Ronald Weasley sir to miss the train instead. Dobby thought that if the bludger-"

"Then it was you. You tried to kill me!"

"Not kill you, sir, never kill you! Dobby wants to save Harry Potter's life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than to remain here, sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter sir hurt enough to be sent home!"

"Oh, is that all?" griped Harry. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you wanted me sent home in pieces?"

"Dobby cannot lit Harry Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more-" The House-Elf froze, clearly horrified.

At the sound of footsteps, the House-Elf disappeared.

A moment later Dumbledore walked in, carrying something that looked to be a statue with the help of Professor McGonagal. His eyes widened in horror. If the Chamber of Secrets really had been opened, she should have been safe. She was a Pure-Blood.

McGonagal was sent to retrieve Madam Pomphrey. A moment later, both women were back.

"What happened?"

"Another attack," said Dumbledore. "Minerva found her on the stairs."

"There was an apple and a muggle toy gun with her," said McGonagal. "We think she was trying to sneak up to visit Typho."

Harry gently lifted himself up a few inches. Luna hay on her bed, clearly petrified. In her right hand was one of his blasters.

"What does this mean, Albus?" asked Professor McGonagal.

"It means," said Dumbledore, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."

Once the adults left, harry carefully snuck over to Luna's bedside, ignoring the pain in his arm. There was a look of determination on her face. Judging by the position of her body, she had been crouched down when petrified.

Trying not to jostle his bad arm, Harry carefully began to remove the blaster from her grip. It was one thing for them to think his blaster a toy gun, but there was too large a chance of something going wrong to leave it here. In the end, he'd had to take it apart to remove it.

At least it had distracted him from the pain of his regrowing bones.

Once he had reassembled and hidden his blaster, Harry was left only with his thoughts.

"Why did that House-Elf think he was Harry Potter? And why did Dobby think he was in danger?

Luna ad obviously known she was in danger-why else whould hse have taken one of his blasters? But she had taken the risk to either visit him or take on the danger herself. Judging by the snack, she may have been trying to warn him.

This wasn't the first time Luna had known things she couldn't have possibly known. The name of the man she thought she was going to marry. Her "House-Elf conspiracy." For a moment Harry thought back to the day he'd met Luna. Her words…

Was she Force Sensitive? It was certainly a possibility.

As soon as he got out of the hospital wing, his research would begin. Luna was under his protection. He would not let her petrification go unavenged.

He would find whoever was responsible for this. And once he found them, Harry fully intended to ensure that the person/creature wished for death before he ended it's life.