Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't have given Luna such a crappy life. She's far too awesome to have deserved so much BS.
Every memory of walking out the front door
I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye
-Photograph by Nickelback
I picked up the gold-framed photo from my dresser, and sat down on the pale blue carpet, a bowl of huckleberries on my lap. I watched the blue butterfly that I had conjured flutter around my head, searching desperately for a flower to land on. I couldn't help but remember. It had been exactly eight years ago today. Eight years without Mother.
The photograph depicted my mother and I hugging, a twinkle in our eyes. We looked as if nothing in the world would bring us down. My mouth was stained deep blue, and my mother's long golden hair was stirred gently by the breeze. In the background, ant-sized specks that were cows ambled slowly through their fields. A single butterfly flew past.
I remembered the day of the picture well. Not like it was yesterday, though. It's more like the hazy familiarity of a recurring nightmare, I know what will happen, and dread it all the same. It had been a joyous family vacation. Mother, Daddy, and I had traveled to the West Virginia part of America, in search of the mysterious Mothman. We had taken a side trip to the top of a mountain that formed the continental divide. Mother had explained to nine-year-old me that if meant that if I spit on the top of the mountain, half the spit would go the middle of America and the other half would go to the ocean. I had found this to be a quite fascinating idea, and by the end of the trip, my mouth was very dry.
We had had a picnic when we got to the summit, around noon. We ate sandwiches that Mother had made, along with crisps (oddly enough, called potato chips over there, we had quite a lot of difficulty trying to find them at the shop.) Once we were all full, we had roamed across the vast, tundra-like mountaintop, collecting the deep blue huckleberries, which, unlike the related blueberries, contain a property that reduces mythical creatures' fear of you. We had each gathered an entire back full of berries, so we sat on the moss-encrusted rocks and took turns attempting to toss the huckleberries into each other's mouths. Neither of my parents managed to catch any I threw. I had really bad coordination at the time, due to a bad case of fumblenitis I had recently recovered from.
We took a long hike to the top of a ridge, where I could see for miles around. There were dense forests with quaint cottages nestled inside them. There were farm fields with dark spots that were cows, looking like a patchwork quilt. I wondered which side had the ocean near it, and which was closer to the middle of America.
Mother had tapped me on the shoulder, and told me that Daddy wanted to take a photo of us. I hugged her tightly, my eyes shining with glee. Could there ever be a more perfect day? Daddy snapped the camera, and after the flash of blinding light, I resumed examining with wonder the blue and purple butterflies that fluttered overhead, drifting on the peaceful summer breeze. Not watching my step while I pursued the fascinating creatures, I tripped on a rock. I began to cry when I felt the pain of the rock slicing into my knee. Mother rushed to me, and cradled me in her lap, brushing the tears away with her finger.
"Hush, sweetie, it'll all be over before you know it." She drew out her wand, and muttered the healing incantation she had recently discovered.
An explosion of green light, and my mother's life was over before I knew it.
A/N: Please leave feedback! Concrit is like oxygen to authors, we can't live without it! Tell me what you liked, and what I need to improve on! Let me know what Luna related stuff you'd like me to write about!