The cylindrical house sat rooted deep in the grassy field, the many rocks that surrounded it lay half submerged in the tough mud, and as the gentle wind pushed against the old, rook-like structure creaked with an aged nature, and seemed almost to dip slightly to the right as the breeze brushed gently against it. A pair of small, pale, bare feet pounded against the cracked dirt, red and sore from hours of trying, and failing to step around the small pebbles that lay scattered on the bank of the stream that weaved around the house. Luna could have easily stayed out in the cool wind 'til next dawn, happily catching and collecting small fish from the stream as her long white hair whipped around her cheeks; the distant sound of the villagers down in Ottery St. Catchpole; the wind carrying their whispers on its temperate wings up to the hillside house.
"Luna, dear, time for dinner"
Luna spun round on the spot, uplifting some dirt and further blistering her tiny feet. Staring back at her was her mother's silvery-white patronus; the rabbit hovered in midair, unblinking, and the space around it pulsated with its warmth. Looking over to the window her mother looked out, a wide smile caused creases and folds to appear around her cheeks, but they took away none of her radiating beauty; with wink she beckoned her daughter inside.
The inside of the house was perfectly circular, all the cabinets, the stove and sink curved to fit into its structure, although Luna had never known any different, she smiled at the loving face of her mother looking down at her and proceeded to assist her with the food.
"Is that new spell finished yet mummy?" A great tone of curiosity hinged to her voice. Luna was always exceptionally creative, which everyone had said she got from her mother, as well as her appearance, both with their long white hair flowing down their backs, and the curious half-smile they both wore.
"Oh, I suspect it will be finished very soon dear, very soon." Swooping down with a greedy grin on her face she picked her daughter up and proceeded to swing her playfully around the room, both landing on a nearby foot-stool in a fit of laughter.
"Will Dad be having dinner with us tonight?" Luna muttered innocently, almost as if the question was worth being punished.
"Unfortunately he's working on The Quibbler tonight, honey, so it's just you and me, how does that sound?" Luna beamed back in response, she loved her father a lot, but the alone moments she shared with her mother were special to her, time alone with the woman she admired the most out of anyone in the world.
After dinner Luna sat with a hot cup of dirigible plum tea, its warmth radiating through her tiny body, and her large eyes following her mother as she descended into her basement workshop. She was never allowed down there, for reasons she could never understand, and with fervent curiosity coursing through her she tip-toed quietly after her, careful not to draw any attention to herself.
The room was just as circular as the one above, and with not many hiding places Luna dashed inside the nearest cabinet, luckily there was not much of her to conceal. Many strange contraptions littered the desks and worktops, large frames supporting even stranger inventions, whizzing and whirring and vibrating in unison. Luna's wide eyes focused on her mother, standing with her wand raised high she seemed to be muttering a long string of incantations under her breath, in some ancient language Luna did not recognise.
Soon the circular room had been flooded with purple light, bright sparks emanated from the tip of her wand, and although Luna could not help but stare in awe at the beautiful display, something seemed wrong. Her mother's arm shook under the intensity of the sparks and as they grew an even deeper shade of purple she seemed to be losing all control over them. Her arm gave one final jerk in a vain attempt to regain control, but the clattering sparks burst into a loud harmony of cracking sounds, both screams were flooded out by the loud bangs and cracks and pops that littered the air, and as quickly as they came the deep purple flames died out.
The workshop sat in darkness, stagnating in the pulsating blackness, which seemed much more alive in comparison to the twisted body that now lay on the floor. Luna was not a fool, she did not need telling what had happened; she simply closed the crack in the cabinet door, her own little box where she could weep for a lifetime if she needed to, and she wished she would never have to leave.
The old house creaked again, although no wind had brushed against it, not a soul moved near that house, and seemed to let out a small, grieving cry, if houses could cry. A somewhat weeping sound as it mourned, almost like something important had been stolen from it.