HOLLA! So I am back with a new story! I waited until my A Levels were finished before writing and now I'm back! This chapter is more of a prologue to the start of the story! I hope that you will enjoy the return of so many of the characters you saw in the last fic!
So we are in a small place in the middle of nowhere and we see our favourite blonde Ravenclaw. Do let me know what you think!
The rain hammered down on the cobblestones as the skies opened to release the much needed water on the British countryside. It had been the hottest summer on record, with temperatures rising to nearly 30C. For once it was perhaps a better thing to do to stay in the United Kingdom than go abroad where, at some points; it was colder than the country they stayed in the rest of the year. Those who easily remembered the summer of 1995 would often draw comparisons with the summer of 2018.
But that was all over. It was mid-August and someone had finally taken pity and decided to stop torturing the small island that had such a big impact on the rest of the world. People welcomed the downpour with adulation and the wish that the hosepipe ban would be lifted, was finally perhaps a shimmering light in the distance.
It was 11pm at night and only a few lights could be seen in the street that ran in the middle of the quaint Scottish village of Lower Hampton just outside of Glasgow. The houses had withstood two world wars, an industrial revolution and a Civil War and they were only now starting to look a little worse for wear. The residents were mainly pensioners, senior citizens, the odd student passed through but the lazy and relaxed pace at which the village lived at, soon made people restless.
Most of the occupants of Lower Hampton were not aware of any unusual activity that occurred. They did not seem to notice anything different about the one family that lived in the village; they were regarded as quiet and polite. Sure the mother was rarely there and the whole family was never in the summer, but the twin boys were the darlings of the village. All the old ladies fussed over them and always spoke to each other of how nice Lorcan and Lysander Scamander were. But tonight was different. The new moon that night meant there was very little light that shone in the street where the cloaked figure glided. It could not be said in any form of the world that the figure had walked. The black cloak that encased its form was flowing and barely rustled in the gentle breeze that swept along the street with the rain. The water that seemed to hammer at and bounce off every cobblestones, every piece of the outside world that it hit, did not penetrate the figure. It was as if the figure was not there, transparent. The material of its cloak could not be any man-made or natural fibre. It was something most definitely beyond that. Something that most likely, no Muggle scientist would be able to explain.
The figure rested in front of a two-storey house with a thatched roof and white painted bricks. There were three windows on the first floor of the house and two on the bottom with an oak door in the middle. The figure made its way along the small path and then, rather than trying to break and enter, the figure simply lifted off the ground. No sound was made; no mode of transport suitable for flying was made known. It was as if the figure itself was flying. Any Muggle passer-by, though, would not have suspected a thing, as they will not have seen anything. The figure floated, if that was the best word, to the nearest window and barely got within a metre of it, before backing way. But as it approached the second window, there was a small pause before the figure glided and slid under the small gap in between the window and the ledge of the sill, gently ruffling the curtains as it brushed past them. The figure turned what anyone would presume was its head and sensed the presence of the two people in the room. And the figure was right. Lying on opposite sides of the room were two identical boys. Their mops of blonde curls were matched with sparkling sea blue eyes that were covered by pale eyelids. Their sleeping forms made them look as if they were small angels. The figure seemed to hesitate, as if trying to work out which child was which. The truth was, there was no way of telling between Lorcan and Lysander Scamander when they were asleep. But somehow the figure managed to distinguish between them and slowly he moved towards the left hand bed, where a sleeping Lorcan lay. Its long and skeletal fingers came from underneath his cloak and reached towards his hood, ready to pull it back and deliver the fatal kiss.
But, despite all the rain that had not made him wet and the pebbles that should have made a sound when he walked, it was his passing a small dog that lay at the foot of the bed that caused a reaction. The dog was only half-asleep and his ears pricked up at the clear movement in the room. Not knowing what it was, he knew that he had to protect his master and so did the only thing he could: growl and bark.
Immediately the two boys woke up. Lorcan seemed to be paralysed with fear as the figure pulled back the hood. Lysander could only watch in horror, seemingly paralysed with fear as he saw a cloaked figure leaning over his brother. He couldn't understand what was going on but he knew he alone couldn't save his brother. But his instincts told him that someone could, someone else in the house
And so, taking a deep breath, Lysander did the only thing he could think of right then, screaming. "MUM!"
The yell carried as it should have done, the waves travelling out of the room and down to the next room where Luna sat bolt upright in bed. She had become attuned to hearing the cries of her twin boys, now both ten years of age. But there was a note of desperation in her son's voice that made her sure that there was something very wrong. Grabbing her wand, she slipped from underneath the warmth and protection of her bed and husband, and ran down the corridor.
What she saw chilled her to the bone. They were still recovering as a family after the death of Louis, the twins had been close to him, and another tragedy could not hit so soon. She knew the incantation, the one that would drive the Dementor away. All she needed was the happiest thought she had. But it would not come. It was as if watching her son's soul getting sucked out took all the happiness out of the world.
Lysander was cowering behind the protection of his mother and Luna closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she felt the shaking that clung to her leg, wishing for that precious memory to return. "Go get your father." She whispered to her other child and he willingly fled.
Rolf was better at this kind of thing. He had joined Hogwarts and Ravenclaw aged 11 when Luna was going into her fourth year, the year she had joined Dumbledore's Army. He could keep her safe. And then the memory came food back. It was simple but pure, her mother. Luna could picture clearly the way she looked all ruffled after a day in the workshop where she would tinker with various things.
A small smile leapt onto her gracious features and she pointed her wand straight at the Dementor, trying with al her might to remember her mother and not to see the scene that was before her. "Expecto Patronum."
Perhaps it was Luna's unlucky day, but all that came out of her wand was a thin whisp of white, nothing like her Hare Patronus that she was so used to seeing when she tried. Tear after tear fell as time after time, as she tried to conjure a Patronus.
Only was it at the reassuring sense of another mature wizard next to her that made her think that she might be able to do it that little bit more. "On three." Rolf whispered into her ear. "One," she took a deep breath, "two," she couldn't lose another loved one, "three!"
And together, with a new surge of confident in her heart, they cast the spell that would protect their son. And it had worked. A hare and a racoon bounded forward together, charging at the cloaked figure who was still trying to suck at the life form of Lorcan who seemed to be growing weaker. Lysander cheered and Luna could not help but smile as the Dementor slid out of the window and out of sight, the hare and racoon chasing it until Luna looked at the younger of her two sons lying immobile on his bed.
Rolf steadily pointed his wand at his youngest. "Enervate." He whispered, wishing for the incantation to take place but to have the more gentle effect which should have been what happened when the spell was spoken with less conviction.
Luna ran over to her son, gathering him up in his arms and not caring that her family was there, let the tears flow freely. Lorcan buried his face in her hair, he was physically weak and all he cared about was making sure that his mum was there and he was safe. His breathing slowly slowed down, the breaths deeper and more content, his drowsiness taking over as his head nodded into his mother's chest, his eyes slowly drooping closed and the sheer fatigue as a result of the events of the night soon took over and his breathing became rhythmic, a slow and deep sleep consuming his young body.
Luna closed her eyes and stood with the sleeping boy in her arms. Lysander looked on fearfully, his hands clasped around his father who had a gentle hand place on his son's head. She slipped him under the covers, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head before standing, her eyes fixed on her son.
"Mummy?" Lysander's quivering voice was what drew her attention away and back to her son. "Is Lorcan going to be okay?"
Luna didn't even try to force a smile onto her face as she knelt down in front of her son and tucked a stray strand of golden hair behind his ear. "It will probably mean a day of rest for him but yes, he will be okay." Her eyes darkened and her voice became serious. "Lysander, he does not need to be reminded of what happened tonight. Can I trust you not to talk about it if he is there unless he brings it up? He won't want to remember. We need to be sensitive. Can I trust you to do that?"
Lysander nodded, he may only be 10 but he understood a lot more than people sometimes gave him credit for. He knew why his parents didn't want them talking about it. He was shaken enough by the event and so he could not fully understand how much his brother was suffering. "Don't worry Mummy, I know." he reached out and put his arms around his mother's neck, pulling her into an embrace. "G'nite mum."
Luna smiled; the innocence of her children was just too precious for anyone to be able to fully understand, aside from her. "Goodnight sweet heart."
Lysander pulled away from her and hugged his father who had a small, sad smile on his face. "Night Daddy."
Rolf chuckled, he was glad to see his son content. "Good night Sander."
Lysander revealed a toothy smile as he heard his father's nickname for him before going back over to his bed, stealing glances often at his twin brother. This did not go unnoticed by Luna or Rolf as they watched him. "Sander?" Luna also used the pet name and he turned in his bed, his covers pulled up to his chin tightly. "You don't need to worry about Lorcan tonight." She smiled as she felt the golden retriever rub against her thigh and jump lightly onto Lysander's bed where he licked the boy's face once before jumping lightly off and settling himself back into his favourite position in the middle of the thick carpet, right in between the two boys. Luna nodded to the dog. "See, Padfoot will look after you well enough."
Lysander seemed to think this was sensible and a good enough guardian for them both and so snuggled down, wriggling his body into a comfortable position in his bed. Luna watched her two sons for a moment. They had seemed so innocent and carefree until just a few moments. Now this would scar them for life. They would never forget it and neither would she. It was hard to forget something like that.
Rolf touched her arms gently. "You need to take your own advice." He whispered in her ear. "They will be okay, Padfoot is the perfect guardian."
What did you think? Did it make sense? What do you think might it all be about!
