Luna Lovegood's Arc

Chapter 5 of 19

The young Snorkack cried again. The sound rolled through the trees, high and desperate. Somewhere in the dark, its family answered. Branches snapped closer. Luna knelt by the net and knew the truth at once. Every cry brought the herd nearer. If she covered the creature's mouth, she might hurt it. If she freed it, she lost everything her father had spent thirty years chasing. "We have to move," Harry said. He stood between Luna and the trees, wand up, watching the dark. His green eyes flicked from shadow to shadow. He had helped her clear this path with gentle magic, not force. Now his voice was tight. "Luna. They're coming. Whatever you're going to do, do it fast." Luna looked at the little creature. It thrashed against the flowered net, chest heaving, horn scraping the mesh. It was not calling for help by accident. It was calling for its mother. And the answer was almost here. Then she remembered the harp. She had carried it into the forest for exactly this. Her father's notes said Snorkacks calmed to slow music, the way some creatures still for a low, steady sound. She had thought she would never need it. She pulled it from her pack and set it in the dirt beside the net. "Luna, there's no time," Harry hissed. "There's only this," she said. She drew her fingers across the strings. A soft note lifted into the night. She played slow, one note after another, the way her father hummed when she was small. The young Snorkack twitched. Its cry broke off. It went still and stared at her hands. The heavy feet in the forest slowed. The answering calls dropped to low rumbles, then to nothing. Luna kept playing. Sweat ran down her neck. Her fingers ached. But the little creature had stopped fighting. It lay quiet in the net, breathing soft, watching the strings shimmer in the dark. "It worked," Harry breathed. "The herd stopped." Luna did not stop the music. She gathered the net with one hand, cradling the calm creature against her chest, still plucking single notes with the other. "We walk," she whispered. "Slow. While it stays quiet." They backed out of the clearing together, Harry watching the trees, Luna playing the whole way. The forest stayed silent behind them. No feet followed. They reached the tent house at the edge of camp and ducked inside the sturdy canvas walls. Luna laid the netted Snorkack on a blanket and let the last note fade. The creature slept. She had it. Alive. Unhurt. Real. But the harp could not play forever. Her fingers were already stiff. And out in the dark, the herd had not gone home. They had only stopped. They knew exactly where their young one had been taken. The music had bought her the night. It had not bought her the morning.