Come to Grief
Part 1
"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore."
-The Raven
She felt the blood slip down the back of her throat, forcing her to swallow. Or, at least, she tried but instead choked, coughing. A thick curtain of rain and mist had settled over her, steadily drenching every ounce of clothing. The wet was bitingly cold. Dazed, she looked out over the Burren around her, bare rock meeting sky. The scenery came in and out of focus with passing curtains of rain, lending it an evanescent feel.
Oh. Perhaps… I am dead, after all.
Luna repositioned herself carefully, wincing at the shooting pain in her ribs. She felt like she would be sick to her stomach, but fought the urge. They could still be nearby. The wind picked up, whipping the wet locks of her hair up into her face, despite her shielded perch behind an outcropping of rock. With numb fingers she peeled the hair from her eyes and peered out. Off in the distance she could just make out the cold grey waters of the bay. Just yesterday, when the weather had been fair, she had been able to see clear across to Galway.
She needed to disapparate. Grimacing, Luna looked down at the broken remains of her wand. Wandless apparation was difficult on a good day. In her current state… Luna wasn't sure she was up to the task. Shock and physical injury had made her weak, her legs had finally given out underneath of her, forcing her to crawl through thick hazel scrub. Fear and disorientation led her to climb upwards, until the heavily creviced limestone had offered some meager shelter.
Some time had passed as she hid and the heavy clouds, threatening all day, had finally broken, letting loose a torrent. It was time to move or hyperthermia would set in. She slowly leaned out to scan her surroundings, bidding her exhausted arms to support her weight. Nothing, just grey, bleak rock and rain. Silence stretched out around her. Only the patter of steady rain met her ears. She took a steadying breath, acknowledging that the cold rain, at the very least, was doing some good. Escape had cost her. She'd suffered burns up her back and onto the nape of her neck.
So tired.
At a snails pace, she eased herself up and out from shelter, blinking against wind and rain. Her coat had long been lost, but now it was for the best. The bright, cheerful red of her slicker would have made her an obvious target on the monochromatic landscape. Egging herself onward, Luna crawled across the rock, working her way down. She kept low, praying to any god or spirit she could think of that she would remain unseen. Now was no time to be picky, she'd accept any cosmic goodwill she could get.
Progress was painfully slow as her limbs became increasingly unwieldy. Mud clung to her sodden clothing. The sudden start of an engine sent Luna dropping to the ground like dead weight. Heart pounding, she peered through the shrub, having finally made her way down off of the limestone pavement. A farm truck rumbled by, groaning as it made its way down the muddy tracks of a service road. Luna let out a shaking sigh of relief. Finally, she had made it back to the outskirts of town.
She allowed herself a moment to rest, listening to her surroundings. Sheep bleated in the distance. A dog barked. She couldn't have traveled much more than a kilometer or two, but the difference was massive. It meant life. Luna allowed hope to swell up in her chest. Being close to town meant cover. She'd be far more difficult to track as she moved between farms and buildings. Luna went to push herself up, groaning with the effort. It hurt. Everything hurt. Horribly. She had been through some tight spots before. Being taken by Death Eaters had chilled her to the bone. Even now, years later, a nightmare from that time would still rip her from sleep. But this… Luna had never known such a primal fear as this. She had never truly known what pain was.
It was a miracle she had even made it out alive.
No. It had been sheer, dumb luck.
Stumbling, she came out onto the service road and spotted a gate down a ways. From there, she knew, the main road would lead into town. Luna contemplated hitching a ride, but quickly dismissed the idea. In her current state, no one would simply leave her to go on her merry way. She would be swept away to the nearest muggle hospital, where there wouldn't be a charm or healing spell in sight. This part of Ireland hosted few wizarding communities, only passing travelers and fellow magizoologists.
The rusted gate hung slightly open, swaying slightly in the wind. She plodded down the road, slipping slightly and splashing into a puddle. Her mind was beginning to get fuzzy, feverish.
Wait… would they be expecting her to take the main road? Luna stopped, conflicted.
A man cleared his throat, rooting her to the spot.
"Erumpent horn. That was a cute trick, darlin'."
Fear washed through her, constricting her throat. She felt that she would cry. It was a sickly sweet voice, American. She wasn't an expert, but the southern twang was so strong it was hard to miss. He stepped into the road, between her and the gate. He was tall, surprisingly so. His frame was lanky, all elbows and knees. He flashed her a smile full of white, straight teeth before turning his head, looking about at the deserted road. They looked unreal. Everything about the man was odd, like he didn't fit properly within his own skin. His ears sat out away from the side of his head, trying to escape the thin, angular cheekbones that propped up diluted, pale blue eyes.
She shuddered.
"Color me surprised, actually. Although, my friend over there finds it less amusing," he said, nodding behind her.
She turned to see another behind her. He was, unlike the American, of average height, slightly stocky, brown hair- otherwise relatively unremarkable with the exception of the fresh, nasty burn that marred the left half of his face. Some sort of salve had been hastily spread across the wound, causing his eye to be sealed shut. One eyebrow was completely gone. It was, some perverse part of her noted with satisfaction, her handiwork.
He looked positively livid, murder evident on his face.
"You were a hard one to track down, wasted our entire afternoon hunting for you," he said, slowly walking up to her. "So, let's be a doll and come back quietly."
Luna forced herself into a smile, fighting back tears.
"I'd really rather not," she said, voice catching in her throat.
He cocked his head to the side and, for a moment, did not respond.
Exhausted, Luna had no time to react to the backhanded slap. She hit the ground with a wet smack. The world briefly went black before it blinked back into life. She tasted fresh blood on her tongue as he grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head up. He bent down onto one knee and pulled her face in close, a smile still twisting his lips. Despite the severity of his blow and the grin, his pale eyes revealed no emotion, unreadable.
"Enough. You will come or I will slit your sweet little throat here and now, wasting every single drop of your blood. You are proving to be far more trouble than you are worth, Miss Lovegood."
She tried to swallow. Now, she thought miserably, would be a most opportune moment for a time turner.
"… any one with a spot of sense can see, a cull of the Brazilian Dugbog population would be devastating to the surrounding marshland. Mandrake farmers have strong ties with many peoples of –er- certain places of influence in our ministry. This movement has gotten far more credence than it's worth. Bitten ankles and damaged mandrake crops are hardly worth the risks a cull would cause on the ecosystem. Observe this chart I have here and you'll see…"
The words trailed in and out of focus along with Luna's concentration.
The Brazilian naturalist was short... very short. Luna couldn't help but find the man so thoroughly distracting that the words leaving his mouth dissipated into boring blah before they could even reach her ears. She had stopped listening thirty minutes into the seminar, despite the fact that she had a report due soon on the international attitude towards dugbogs and mandrake crop yields. It mattered little. She had a little trick up her sleeve courtesy of Mr. Weasley. The last time she had visited the Weasleys for Sunday luncheon he had insisted on gifting her a recorder of sorts. He'd been playing with muggle technology again. The old beat up 'walkman' could play back anything within a 72-hour period. She'd give the seminar another listen tonight or tomorrow.
Luna chewed the tip of her quill, the silky feather tickling her tongue. Perhaps it was his mustache? It was a massive, immaculately groomed thing, obscuring his mouth to such a degree that she could only see his bottom lip bobbing into view with each word he spoke. She smiled faintly, wondering if the mustache was an attempt to hide some sort of unfortunate defect. Luna amused herself, thinking up a back-story that involved the poor naturalist's teeth being knocked clean out by a fire slug blast.
If that were the case, I'd fix up a mustache for myself. Would I make it blonde to match… or maybe something a bit jollier… like turquoise?
He continued on, lamenting over the weak international outrage concerning the dugbog. She felt particularly fidgety today, fingers and toes tapping about. She sighed, fiddling with her necklace of butterbeer caps. Even after all of these years, it was still her favorite. It kept her feeling connected to her Hogwarts years and to her friends. Hermione, Harry, and Ron. Everyone had spread out, pursuing his or her ambitions. She tried her best to visit the Burrow and Hermione as often as she could. Otherwise, she feared, she would never have the chance to see them.
When had she last seen Harry? Three weeks ago? More? He'd looked happy, confident. Luna wondered if Ginny had anything to do with that. Last time she had seen them it was impossible to miss the handsome ring on her finger. Sleek silver wrapping delicately around a gleaming sapphire. Would they have the wedding at the Burrow like Bill and Fleur's?
"Luna… Luna, lovely. Are you home?"
A soft hand touched her shoulder, pulling Luna from her thoughts. She came back to the present moment, looking around at the drowsy lecture hall in which she sat. It was Bonnie, the president of The London Naturalist Society for Wizards and Witches. Her mentor.
"Hmm?" she said, stretching her arms up above her head.
"I was asking you when you planned to head out." Bonnie said as she buttoned up her tweed jacket, tucking a stray hair back into her immaculately kept bob.
Bonnie loved men's dress. Muggle fashion in particular. Although, as Hermione had tactfully pointed out at last year's holiday party, her sense of style was about three decades behind the rest of the muggle world. The tweed jacket was a favorite, elbow patches and all.
"Oh? Have I been spaced out for so long, then?" Luna asked, looking about at the wizards and witches shuffling around, gathering bags and coats.
"No, no. He only just wrapped up a few minutes ago. I meant your trip. The augureys, yeh?"
"Hm? Oh, yes. I still have some fieldwork left to do. Last time I went, there was an unprecedented dry streak. Not a drop of rain. I wasn't able to see a single Augurey cry the entire week I was there," she said, a hint of annoyance entering her voice.
Bonnie chuckled deeply, clapping a boney hand against Luna's back as she stood.
"A dry spell in Ireland sounds like a bit of an oxymoron to me. Still, I don't envy you. Augureys are such depressing birds. Sad, dour little vultures, I think. Come on then. Let me introduce you to Mr. Rivera." Bonnie shook her head at the bemused smile on Luna's face.
Ah, Mr. Mustachio.
Luna followed her mentor down the stairs to the speaking platform, shrugging her leather bag onto her shoulder. The air in the hall was uncomfortably warm from the afternoon sun, small beads of sweat glistened on Mr. Rivera's forehead as he gathered up his parchment. Now that she was up close, he was not as short as she had originally assumed. However, the mustache seemed larger than life. The smell of musty cologne filled her nose. She had to fight the itching need to sneeze.
"Mr. Rivera, this is Luna Lovegood. She's one of my aspiring magizoologists," Bonnie said, jovial.
"Charmed," Luna said, giving him a sweet smile.
She held out a thin pale hand in greeting, forcing herself to look into his eyes. From this vantage point she could see grey hairs.
"Ah, it's so nice to meet you. How far are you into your training?" he asked, lighting up at the introduction.
He smiled, and with a start, Luna saw that beneath the mustache he was indeed missing some teeth. Her musings had been accurate, sans fire slug. Probably. Inquiring would be rude and improving on her tact was something she was striving for. Hermione had really let her have it after a rather unfortunate slip of the tongue at the last Ministry office party she had been invited to. She really had thought the man's nose was fake… Luna snapped back to the present. His handshake was firm and, despite the horribly distracting facial hair, Luna decided that she liked him.
"She has one more year of work in the field as an apprentice before she becomes fully licensed," Bonnie answered for her.
Luna did not mind. It was just Bonnie's way. People often found the witch hard to deal with, citing that she was pushy. Obnoxious. In fact, ever since her promotion to president, the number of naturalists in the society had begun to dwindle. These qualities had never bothered Luna; they did nothing to detract from the fact that Bonnie was a top-notch naturalist. And, she had to admit to herself, Luna would never turn away someone who wanted to be friends. Interacting with peers had not gotten any easier after Hogwarts.
"I see. What is your focus for your last year of training? As I am sure you can surmise, mine was the dugbog. Naturally, after spending a year out on the Pantanal, I was sick to death of the creatures. Beautiful landscape but you get so tired of being damp. So… pruned. I swore I would never have anything to do with them ever again! Yet, here I am many years later pushing for their protection," he said with a sad shake of his head. "Time is a funny thing."
"Oh, is that where you lost your teeth?" Luna asked, jumping at the opportunity to know. Manners forgotten. Fiddlesticks.
Bonnie laughed nervously, plucking at the strap of her bag. Rivera looked taken aback, confusion knitting his brows. Then, suddenly and much to her companion's relief, he burst out into a deep, rumbling laugh.
"No, no, no. My dear, these I lost in a foolish brawl over a very coy woman's favor," he said, again flashing her a gay smile.
Luna joined in, her laughter ringing lightly over his baritone. Yes, she liked him. Bonnie briefly pinched the bridge of her nose, giving Luna a wry smile.
"I am sorry. Blunter than a bludger, this one."
"Not at all, I like a bit of gumption," Mr. Rivera said, giving Luna a quick wink.
"I had come up with a variety of scenarios involving fire slugs… but I suppose a beautiful woman is equally interesting," Luna said. She gave Bonnie a quick look of apology before continuing. "I am studying the Augurey population in Ireland. I finished up my fieldwork on the East coast last month and now plan to spend a few weeks on the west coast. County Claire mostly."
"Stay away from their nest, now. It would be shame to have the Augurey be your death omen."
"It's been proven that the only thing the bird's cry can foretell is the rain," Bonnie interjected.
"Oh, yes. I am aware…" Rivera raised his eyebrows, slightly surprised at how literally he had been taken. "I was merely teasing."
There was a lull then, the direction of conversation knocked askew. Luna observed as Rivera wetted his lips, the flat red tongue peeking out quickly from beneath his mustache and disappearing just as quickly. He seemed to be weighing his next words.
"But in all seriousness, do be careful while you are there. I met an old friend the other evening, works for the Daily Prophet, and he mentioned some suspicious vampire activity in that region. Very nasty stuff, indeed. A number of muggles have gone missing and the found. Drained completely… poor souls." Mr. Rivera shook his head sadly.
It was Bonnie's turn to break into laughter.
"Mr. Rivera! Forgive me, but thanks to the Ministry, we haven't had to worry about vampire activity for decades. I wouldn't send my Luna anywhere so dangerous."
"I have personally met a vampire, a nice fellow, really. Good conversation." Luna was quick to say, recalling Professor Slughorn's Christmas party. It had been years ago now, but she still remembered his face.
What was his name? Luna squinted in concentration, beckoning the memory to resurface. It was no use; the vampire's name was long gone. She looked back to her companions, stepping back into the present. While she had been lost in thought the atmosphere had shifted, something tense in the air.
"Yes, well… I am sure there are exceptions to every group."
Rivera now seemed slightly offended, pursing his lips while straightening his jacket.
"Come; let's move this conversation to the Leaky Cauldron for a spot of lunch. I am particularly interested in hearing your thoughts on dugbogs here in Britain," Bonnie said, shepherding them both out of the hall.
Luna bid them farewell and made her way out of the building, leaving them to their discussion. Dugbogs did not interest her in the least and the mention of danger, and Bonnie's reaction to it, had left her feeling awkward. Besides, she had made plans to meet Hermione.
The weather was cheerful and sunny as she stepped out onto the cobblestone pavement of Diagon Alley. The air was buzzing with activity, everywhere was crowded with students gathering supplies for the coming school term. It was that time of year again. She paused briefly, drinking in the nostalgia. Nearby, a child squealed with glee, peering in through the large storefront windows of Eeylops Owl Emporium. A small long eared owl looked quizzically back at the young girl, its ear tufts mirroring the quirky, sloppy pigtails that sat perched atop her head.
Luna relaxed; leaving the tension that had gripped her behind. She cut up along the street, making her way to Rosa Lee Teabag. Surprisingly enough, she had beaten Hermione there. Odd. Luna was always the one who was late. Punctuality was Hermione's life force. She took a cozy spot in the back, smiling as the resident cat came up to greet her. Absentmindedly, Luna gave it a fond scratch behind one brindle colored ear and waited.
Thirty minutes later, Hermione had still not arrived. Had she gotten the day of their appointment mixed up, or the time, perhaps? Luna ordered a cup of ginger tea and nursed it, lazily thumbing through an old issue of the Quibbler. She had helped her father edit this one. Another fifteen minutes passed and Luna began to feel genuine concern. She cast a look to the clock on the wall. She was leaving first thing in the morning for Ireland, and needed time to prepare all of her supplies. Frowning, she stood, leaving a half full cup and saucer on the table.
Back at her small flat she wrote out a quick note, expressing regret at having mixed up the time of their meeting. So sorry. She'd love to make plans when she arrived back in London later on in the month. Her screech owl, Geronimo, set out into the skyline, letter tied securely to its leg.
Well then, let's get to sorting this and that.
The augurey sat a top an ancient elm tree, preening its emerald plumage. Luna held her breath, hopeful. She had been searching for the nest all morning, keeping a trained eye out for its characteristic teardrop shape. Just a few more sketches and observational notes before she could call it a day and head back to town. She found that she enjoyed the sandwiches at the muggle pub there very much.
Yes… with a side of chips this time.
She started slightly as the bird suddenly took flight. Luna frowned. It wasn't tree hopping like it had been all morning. This time the augurey went up high into the sky; the green of its long wings catching the little bit of sun the sky was willing to spare. The long mournful cry of the augurey was carried on the wind and met her ears. Rain. It seemed her luck this time around was about to change for the better. Luna observed the gray sky, noticing that now the clouds seemed heavier, darker. Well, she had planned to get wet.
The augurey circled overhead three, four, and then five times before gliding along, heading inland. Luna sighed. It looked like she had no choice but to follow along. She had spent her first two days in Ireland attempting to locate this specimen. She would not lose it now. Fishing inside of her pockets, Luna pulled out a long feather and admired the green as it gracefully darkened into a coal black at the tip- an augurey tail feather. With some luck, she had managed to collect it this morning from underneath the bird's perch.
With a few quickly whispered words, Luna whisked it up into the air and, with a flick of her wand, watched as it hovered a few feet over her head, the tip pointing after the bird. A helpful little tracking charm never did a girl wrong. The early mist of rain began to float on the air as Luna straightened her hood and started trekking up along one of the Burren's low rocky mountains. Rain never just fell in this country; it came and went in all directions.
The going was relatively easy at first, but quickly the stone and earth beneath her feet quickly became slick. Treacherous, even. All of her attention became focused on shifting between the feather guiding her way and the ground underfoot. It almost became cathartic in a way, the steady pace of her heart as she worked up a thin sheen a sweat under her clothes. Rain gently pattered against the plastic hood of her rain slicker. Even though it was out of sight, the augurey's solemn calls beaconed her.
Eventually, her path lead down into a ravine and she found herself climbing down over rocks slick with moss. It was unsurprising as augurey's often nested in secluded areas. Still, Luna was growing tired and, while she loved the rain, a cold wind had picked up. This sort of afternoon was best spent tucked next to a fireplace, sipping warm butterbeer… not that she could find it in this muggle village. Luna tilted her head to the side in thought, pausing next to a crumbled stonewall. She puffed her cheeks out, tucking a few sweaty strands of hair behind her ear.
Regrouping her attention, Luna took in her surroundings. The ravine had been deep and was thick with both old growth and new hazel scrub. She could now see that she had been climbing over the crumbled remains of an old homestead. There was a gate, a collapsed well, and before her rested the skeleton of a small cottage. The roof had long given way to the elements, moss and clover clinging to its walls. The chimney had partially collapsed, the top half taking out one wall as it had fallen. This area, she mused, would actually be the perfect hiding place for an augurey nest. Huh.
Luna pulled her hood back and sighed as the rain cooled her flushed face. Looking up, she took note that the feather was now standing vertically, slowly rotating. It was the signal that the bird was close by. She adjusted the straps of her knapsack and peered inside of the house. There had once been wooden floorboards, but they had long rotted away, leaving chunks of decay and clusters of little mushrooms. She smiled. They looked like little men. Cute.
She doubted that the augurey had nested inside the ruins. These birds preferred thickets and brush in which to hide. The tangle of relatively young trees behind the ill-fated cottage seemed like the best bet. Luna walked over the old rusted remains of a metal gate and worked her way into the thicket. She was surprised when it suddenly gave way to a small clearing behind the chimney. A large willow tree fenced in the far side of what had once been a garden; its long thin drooping limbs creating a screen.
A gasp came from her unbidden. There it was. The augurey. Luna tried to contain her excitement. She had never seen one on the ground before. She admired the bird, eyes dreamy, as it gracefully stepped amongst fallen willow branches, carefully searching for the best addition to its nest. Nesting behavior in the act! Her fingers itched to take pencil to pad, capturing the bird's likeness in soft graphite. Luna now found herself feeling irked by the rain. With a slight pout, she pulled out her Weasley 'walkman' instead.
"Found a lovely augurey, day three in the Burren. A female of medium build with healthy coloring," she whispered into the machine. "It has nested…"
Luna trailed off, blinking.
What was she looking at?
The augurey had journeyed farther underneath the willow's canopy and she had quietly followed. A large portion of the moss was red. Why was it red? A wet pungent odor hit her and she crinkled her nose, perplexed. It was so far from what she had expected that she didn't trust her senses. Yes, there was the scent of damp earth, musky and deep, but cutting over it was the sharp presence of iron. It was almost as if it were…
A gust of wind came and the creaking groan of rope pulled Luna's attention upwards. Her mind froze then, refusing to compute the sight before her.
A face drenched in red, devoid of any life, was slowly swinging overhead. Two open eyes stared at her, glazed over in death. A low whimper left her throat. What was this? The body of a middle-aged man was hanging from the tree… by the feet. His arms dangled down, fingers blue and swollen, and Luna recoiled in horror when she realized that they were close enough to brush against her shoulder. With a strangled gasp, she fell backwards, clutching her recorder to her chest as if it were a shield.
She had seen death. Luna knew death. Death, she had told herself, was simply a part of life. Death, while definitely sad, was not scary. Really. But now here it was again, lashing out at her, coming out of nowhere. Unexpected, this death was terror in every sense of the word. Her throat constricted into a painful vice as moisture pricked at the corners of her eyes.
Murder. Murder. Murder.
Unable to tear her eyes away, they took in the sight of pale blue skin, milky eyes, and the horrible- so horrible- maw that was once the man's throat. She flinched. With two powerful pumps of its wings, the augurey had landed on a branch up above. It's nest. There it was. Uninterested in the morbid goings on beneath it, the bird went about its careful work, tucking the thin willow branch in with a nimble beak.
Luna tried to swallow. What should she do? Notify the local authorities? Did she even know how the muggle authorities worked? She seriously doubted that the Gardai knew what an augurey was or why she would be chasing one.
The rain continued its steady fall, dripping quietly from leaves and branches, soaking both Luna and the body. The only other noise to disrupt the somber ambiance of rain was her ragged breathing. It came out of her in painful bursts, choking. Strangling. How long Luna might have remained like that, frozen in time, is impossible to know. Suddenly the rough sound of male voices pierced through the air, startling her back into cognitive thought. They were close.
Murderers.
She did not know this for certain. Technically it could have been anyone, but Luna did not like this gamble. With a wet squelch, she frantically climbed to her feet, horrified anew at the blood soaked moss that had stained her pants and hands. The instinctual drive to flee took over and Luna ran for the ruins, the bright red of her slicker disappearing behind the chimney just as the voices grew in volume, right on her tail.
Luna held her breath, trembling.
"I thought there'd be more."
American.
"Shit," he continued. "What a mess this one made- I mean… what's wrong?"
There was a silent pause. Luna shivered as cold rainwater dripped from her chin.
"No… it's nothin'. Nothin'. Jus' thought I saw somethin'," came a second voice. This one was low, gravely. He sounded local.
"Like what? An animal?"
"No… like I said, it's nothin'. Jus' thought I saw some movement."
"The rain, I bet. It rains so damn much… messing with my eyes," the American said, his disdain evident.
The Irishman simply grunted in return and for a while Luna heard nothing but soft distant thunder. Then came the sudden and sickening thud of corpse hitting soft ground. The slick sensation and taste of bile bit at the back of her throat. Luna quickly brought a pale trembling hand to her mouth.
"Mind the rope!"
"Yeah, yeah. I got it," the American said. "Where is this one going, again?"
"We aren't leavin' this one out. Transfigure it into a stone. Once that is done you can just toss it. Don' matter where."
A wry chuckle.
"Won't be many left in this village if we keep it up," the American laughed.
"Don' matter."
"Okay," he sounded slightly offended. "How is it you muggles say? 'Just sayin'."
Muggle? The Irishman was a muggle?
It was quiet once again, only this time a murderous aura filled the air.
"You say muggle or squib one more time to me and I will cut your tongue out. I may not have a wand but I can use this knife here well enough."
The Irishman's voice was quiet and low. Eerily calm. It was the tone of someone who truly meant every word.
"Listen, man. You really need a thicker skin. A joke. Just a joke. We've got a long way to go yet and I'm just trying to bring a little levity to our job."
"Not with this. Never with this. Bring it up again and it will be your end. Don' care what she'll end up doin' to me."
A pause.
"Jesus, man… Fine. Yeah. Forget it then," the American said.
"Come on, there's mor-"
"- a cull of the Brazilian Dugbog population would be devastating to the surrounding marshland. Mandrake farmers have strong ties with many peoples of-"
The slow droll of Mr. Rivera's voice interrupted everything. Stunned, Luna looked down stupidly at the device in her hands. Bloody hell… she had hit the playback. Hell! Cold fingers stiff and slow to respond, Luna desperately hit at the buttons.
"Oh, no, no, no, no. Shush. Quiet!" Luna breathed, panic clouding her brain. "Oh my, no."
"-Found a lovely augurey, day three in the Burren. A female of medium build with healthy coloring-"
Luna finally managed the off switch, her wet fingers slipping over the plastic. A fingernail had bent back in her haste, but she did not notice. Luna felt rooted to the spot, hunched over, cocooning her body around the walkman.
They found her. Fast. Inhumanely fast.
She stared up at them through the wet ropey strands of her hair, pale, silver eyes wide and trembling. They stayed like that for a while, seeing who would move first. Luna: attempting to process. The men: bemused… a predatory smirk curving the lips of the taller man- the American.
Luna finally burst forth, attempting to run like a hare flushed out from its burrow. The Irishman leapt forward, digging his hands into the back of her bag and coat, the straps yanking her back brutally. A scream ripped from her throat then, letting loose high and shrill. Despite this, or maybe because of it, she threw herself forward again, shrugging her shoulders and arms out from the sleeves. The cold bite of the air hit her body hard as she stumbled away, regaining her footing. For a split second it seemed like she'd escape, her legs taking three giant sprints away from the men.
This hope was quickly killed by the sensation of strong fingers in her hair and the crushing weight of a knee in the small of her back, bringing her down. They hit the ground hard, Luna's face digging into the dirt. She could taste blood in her mouth and moaned, frantically clutching and slapping at the man's harsh grip.
"Whoa- whoa!" the American laughed, twisting his knee down hard.
She kicked and tried to buck him off and he responded in kind, ripping her butterbeer necklace from her throat, the metal biting into her flesh as it went. Choking pain lashed through her neck and shoulders, smothering the fight inside of her with a scream.
"Where did you come from, girl?" he said, removing his knee and sitting down on her with a grunt, the sharp point of his knee replaced by the dull weight of his tailbone. "You're out in the middle of nowhere, ain't ya?"
"Enough, stop playin'. She saw. Add her to the harvest for the day," the Irishman said, tossing her bag down to the ground with disinterest.
"Seems like a waste," the American replied, pulling her face around, examining her. "You're a pretty little thing."
Luna spat the blood and dirt from her mouth, gasping for air.
"Don' matter. Blood is blood."
The American looked over his shoulder at his companion and sighed in annoyance.
"Fun sucking son of a bitch," he muttered darkly, turning his attention back to Luna. "Sorry, sweetheart, not your lucky day today."
Her head was spinning and the only thing she could focus on was the image of the dead man, hanging from the willow tree. She was going to meet the same end. No. No. No. I won't. I can't! Her death here, on this dreary afternoon, seemed like such an abstract idea. It wasn't real. Luna stared at the butterbeer caps scattered across the ground, the bight colors wet and gleaming. The nearby augurey let out a forlorn call and Luna felt the cold hand of horror deep inside of her. Rain and death.
I don't want to die.
It was then, through some miracle, that Luna was able to click something into place in her brain. Her attention zeroed in on her bag by the Irishman's feet. She always kept a memento of her mother inside. A charm made from a piece of crumple-horned snorkack. She remembered her father, her mother, and the explosions… No, they had been mistaken; it was erumpent horn. Hermione had insisted. Luna had chosen to ignore her, preferring nostalgia and her father's version of events. Luna wormed her hand, very slowly, to her pocket where her wand was concealed, the wood digging into her hip.
Hermione had a knack for being right.
"Please, don't," she begged, allowing tears flowing freely. She met the America's gaze, pulling his attention. "Please. I'll do anything you say. Please!"
She prayed he didn't notice her hand at work.
The man gave her a wicked smile.
"Shhh-sshh. I'll make it fast, I pinky swear. You won't even-," he stopped suddenly, narrowing his eyes.
Luna thought for sure she'd been discovered. Instead, he pulled her head back even farther, catching her chin with dirty fingers.
"Hold up," he said, waving over the Irishman. "I think I recognize her- this is one of the kids she wants alive, I think."
"You think or you know? It's important."
"Maybe. Not one of the big three but definitely in that grou-"
Luna didn't have the time to be confused. This was her chance. Using their distraction, she pushed the wand out from under her body and took aim.
"STUPEFY!"
The explosion tore through the air, ripping her from the ground with an extraordinary violent heat. Pain seared through her as she hit the ground, something in her side cracked. She was burning, she could feel it on her back and neck. The acrid smell of burning hair filling her nose. Someone was screaming, but it wasn't her. There's no time.
In a Herculean effort, Luna pushed herself to her feet and fled.
Well, there is the first chapter. I was a little unsure about the rating of this fic but ultimately decided on a Teen rating considering the dark themes present in the source material. R&R!