My mother used to say; "For every new discovery made by men, ten marvelous things go unnoticed". I asked my mother often why this was so; she'd simply smile a vacant look in her eyes so often present in her last days. One genteel hand would touch my shoulder and she would sigh.

"You'll see one day, you'll see when no one else will my child."

It was years later when I understood the meaning of her words. Years of ignorance from my peers, my fathers overpowering love and ridicule faced alone. Unnoticed and neglected by the society that stood firm for conventional thoughts and outlawed the thoughts of the insignificant. My mother was born into this world, to young to accept her ideas, to old to care for them, and on the 13th of May she died in it. 'Allison Jane Lovegood - accidental death' was printed in the Daily Prophet obituaries the following morning.

The funeral, a quite family gathering was held the Friday after and was full of tear streaked faces and sentimental words. People once ashamed to call my mother family now wept, and loved her passionately, but underneath forgot her. She didn't exist anymore. Just like a dream they left in a quite drift, leaving behind a table full of horrible desserts and more greeting cards then could fit in the trashcan.

The night was warm and I took the blessing for what it was; an invitation to sleep upon my mothers' grave and weep her passing. It was the last time I cried. The very next day a mask had formed and hardened from those tears, hiding the broken girl with in. The first rays of light bathed the marble head stone in melancholy shades of orange-grey that felt somehow fitting for the occasion. I read the words again. Her life's meaning submersed to the world in four short sentences.

'Here lies the daughter of Abraham Cervicus and Casandra Zelda Appleshire. Loving wife to Xenophilius Marcus Lovegood.

Loving mother to Luna Marie Lovegood.

May your soul rest in peace among the stars from whence you came.'

It told of all she was worth and for all she would ever be remembered. My cracked, dry lips could barely hold the tired smile that stretched upon them in cynical apprehension. Silently so as not to disturb the peace I made my way into the house and started on breakfast, from that day forth her duties became mine. My father joined me a few minutes later and silent as a ghost wrapped his arms around me and hung his tall frame into my hesitant embrace. The pressure of his arms hurt my back and I knew then I have become precious to him. The most sacred reminder of his one true love; her daughter who looked exactly like her and now cooked breakfast in the mornings.

I was to be her, and my father expected nothing less of me. In a few days I already burdened with her duties found there were some obligations I couldn't follow. Being a substitute for all intents and purposes worked well in most matters but not some. My father would hear none of this and by the closing of the fortnight made a woman out of me at barely 10.

Before the following month could make his debut the Quibbler was born. Father who never wrote so much as an essay, created a paper dedicated to the paranormal. The extraordinary and the nonsensical ideas that my mother bore into our lives were forcefully thrust upon a world that couldn't handle them. I being her only prodigy became entranced in continuing her legacy as much for the sake of my father as to stop myself from resenting her for leaving me here. I wanted to remember her for what she was not what she made me.

And so I became an expert on Crumple-horned Snorkacks, Nargles and other such illusory beings that swept before me in my minds eyes as clearly as crowds swept past me on Platform 9 and ¾ . She might have left me here but with a sanctuary to call my own; and just like my mother I found solace in this other world, a wonderland of marvelous things and nonsensical beings, of flowers that spoke and birds that clouded minds. Of cows that barked like dogs and swatted away flies with fifty tails; of furry dragons and scaly mice, green antelopes with flowing mains that lit fields on fire and cotton candy colored flying panthers. This world was mine, and I surrounded by greatness unknown, truths undiscovered could be a little girl again and forget the hardships of the world, because I was free, alone and blissfully ignored in this land of wonders. I was Alice.