As soon as she touched his hand, her vision blackened, and her grip on Dumbledore's hand tightened. The world around her felt as though it were twisting around her, pulling in all directions at the same time and at the same time, pushing inward with the same amount of force. Her chest tightened, an unknown force pushing against it. She tried to gasp for air, but she couldn't breathe and her mouth was jammed shut. The world was spinning and she was just rolling along.

And in the next instant, her vision returned and she inhaled a lungful of air. The rest of her senses came along soon after, lagging behind the rest, as if they had only now just left their home. There was a sudden bout of nausea, as her stomach felt like it was unwinding from a tight knot. Luna stopped herself from vomiting all over the ground out of politeness.

She looked around, and saw the glittering tide of the ocean lightly brushing against the rocky shore.

"Are you alright, Luna?" Dumbledore asked. Under his half-moon spectacles, there was a layer of concern. "Most wizards and witches vomit when they first experience Apparition. Adventure can be a flighty mistress."

"If this is what adventure feels like, then I can see why books are so popular."

Dumbledore chuckled. Still grasping his hand, Luna was led by Dumbledore around the shore, until they encountered a path with wooden planks embedded in it to lead the way, the cottage becoming larger as they grew closer. A couple of times Dumbledore had to duck in order to avoid low-hanging branches.

"Why did we walk all the way here?" Luna asked as they pair reached the front door. "Couldn't we have just appeared in front of the door?"

"A courtesy, really. It's not very polite to just appear on ones' doorstep."

She nodded. Dumbledore knocked three times on the wooden door and waited. After a few moments had passed, the door swung open, and in its place was a rotund man in green and gold robes, with red rosy cheeks, and beady eyes.

"Albus Dumbledore!" the man cried out. Booming laughter accompanied it. "Albus, is that you? It's been too long!" Before Dumbledore could reply, the man had grappled him into a bear hug, his thick arms almost like tree trunks.

"Indeed it has Nicolas," Dumbledore said after the man released his grip. "How is Perenelle?"

"She's wonderful! Just out back taking care of the garden." It was only then that Nicolas turned his beady eyes onto her. His silver side-whiskers parted as a toothy smile appeared on his face. "And who might you be, young lady?"

"Luna Lovegood, sir." When she stuck out her hand, she had expected a handshake; she didn't expect to be pulled into a hug similar to one that he had given Dumbledore.

Despite being sandwiched in his grasp, Luna didn't feel like she was being crushed. The sensation was the complete opposite; it was warm and comforting, like she were hugging a giant teddy bear.

"Good to meet you, Miss Lovegood!" Nicolas said with a hearty laugh, after he had broken up the hug. "No doubt you've heard of me, Nicolas Flamel!"

"Who?"

Dumbledore smiled, while Nicolas looked absolutely flabbergasted. "The name doesn't ring a bell?"

"I can't say it does, sir."

"One of the greatest alchemical minds in the world?"

Luna blinked.

"Creator of the Philosopher's Stone? None of this is familiar?"

Luna shook her head. Nicolas let out an overdramatic sigh, and muttered something in French before waving them both inside. "Come in, come in."

As Luna stepped inside, two things stuck out to her.

One, the interior was a lot larger than she would have gathered from looking at the outside.

Two, the cottage was filled to the brim with antiques and items from all over the world.

As the two adults whispered to each other, sometimes sending her pointed glances, Luna looked around, hand clasped behind her back.

There were clocks of all shapes and sizes along the walls, some telling the time while others told the status of frivolous things, like the state of an egg or when the Queen of England was having breakfast, lunch, or dinner; there was a table that looked worn and disheveled when Luna looked upon it, but from the corner of her eye was ostentatious and gilded ("Italian craftsmanship!" Nicolas beamed). There were maps behind glass cases of faraway lands, scrolls written in runes you couldn't understand and paintings that didn't even move.

Luna wondered how they deal with all the Sniffling Dustbuns that make their home in places with plenty of junk around.

"Miss Lovegood." Luna looked up at Nicolas. His earlier exasperation was gone, replaced with his usual mirth. "I have to speak with Dumbledore on some matters. My wife however, is out back. Would you be so kind as to help her?"

Luna nodded. She knew that it was really just a way to get her out of earshot, but adult conversations that didn't involve either of her parents tended to be boring anyways, so she was happy to oblige.

Maneuvering through the makeshift labyrinth, and out the back door, Luna took a good look at what the Flamel "garden" had looked like.

It was less a garden and more like a miniature forest trapped by a wooden fence that winded around the edges. And on the outskirts the garden, their heads hovering over the fence post, were three black, skeletal horses with wings that resembled a bat.

It was both a terrifying and fascinating sight at the same time.

Remembering her mother's words, Luna fished around her robes until she found the spectacles, and wore them. Everything became magnified; the canopy above her shimmered with a luscious green, forgoing the usual autumn colors on its leaves. The thestrals' translucent, glossy coat was emphasized, adding a shine that mitigated their more intimidating features.

An old woman turned her head, her long, silvery hair partially obscured by the wide-brimmed sunhat she wore. Her face was wrinkled, but kindly like a grandmother, and she radiated a certain youth despite her apparent age. "Oh, hello dear!" She put down the bucket she was carrying, containing bloody, raw meat. One of the horses leaned forward to sniff at it, but it was out of reach of its reptilian maw. "I'm Perenelle Flamel, Nicolas' wife."

"Luna Lovegood. I came with Dumbledore. He's talking with Mr. Flamel about adult stuff." When Perenelle nodded, Luna continued, pointing towards the bat-winged creature. "What are those?"

Perenelle looked confused, and turned to look at the creatures. When she looked back at Luna, her gaze was sympathetic. "You can see them?"

Luna nodded.

"I'm sorry."

She cocked her head to the side. Her glasses nearly fell off her face. "Was I not supposed to be able to see them?"

"They're called thestrals. They can only be seen by people who've seen death."

"Oh," was all Luna managed to say before an awkward silence descended.

"Would you like to feed them?" Perenelle asked with a small smile. She pointed towards the bucket full of raw meat.

Luna stepped closer, her curiosity overriding her initial fear. "Are they dangerous?"

"Oh no! Nicolas trains them well. When you live as long as we do, you tend to find new hobbies!" Perenelle laughed. "Well-trained thestrals are very gentle unless provoked."

After the encouragement, Luna approached the bucket. She dunked her hands into it, blood splashing over the sleeves of her robes, and picked out three large slabs of meat. Holding the pile in one arm, she used the other to individually feed the thestrals that gathered excitedly. Once she had handed them all out, the threstrals then reached forward and started licking the stray blood on her hands and robes. Their tongues were wet and scratchy, but all the same it tickled, and Luna giggled.

"Come now, Luna. Let's go back inside."

Luna took one last reluctant look at the thestrals, before joining Perenelle.

"Was that your garden?" Luna asked as they walked towards the door.

Perenelle chuckled. "I had made my wishes for a garden known when we first came here. Nicolas took it to heart and gave one to me, using alchemy. I believe he calls it spagyric. Of course, he always has a way of making things extravagant. " She had a nostalgic expression on her face. "It was always an endearing trait, even when it frustrated me so. But come, I'm sure you don't want to hear an old woman ramble."

Luna did, and said as much to Perenelle, but she only laughed and waved her request away.

When they returned to the cottage, Nicolas and Dumbledore were standing side by side. Dumbledore seemed to have looked the same, but Nicolas' looked positively jolly and his cheeks were somehow even redder. The former held a wooden box with a worn, red journal on top of it.

"Everything go well, Perenelle?" Nicolas asked.

"Of course," she replied. "I think the thestrals took a liking to Luna. Though it might have been because of the blood."

Nicolas looked at her sympathetically for a moment. "Dumbledore tells me that you're interested in alchemy, Miss Lovegood."

Luna nodded.

With one hand, he tugged at the wispy hairs at his chin. "It's unprecedented to have someone as young as you involved in the subject. From what Albus has told me, even Hogwarts only offers the subject to their older students if there's enough interest." Nicolas broke into a wide smile. "But Albus gives me his assurances, and I trust his judgment."

"Does that mean you're going to teach me?"

Nicolas bellowed in laughter, his large belly shaking. "Oh, oh no. I will personally teach you how to use the equipment of course, but nothing further. I am of the firm belief that alchemy is its own teacher."

As if waiting on a cue, Perenelle stepped forward. "Albus, it's been too long! Could I trouble you for some tea?"

"It would be a pleasure, Perenelle," Dumbledore replied with a smile. As he was being led away, Nicolas gestured with his head towards an open grandfather clock. A staircase of stone winded downward, the pathway lit by torches.

"Come, Luna. Your future awaits!"

Luna followed with a skip in her step, avoiding any cracks along the way.


"Luna!" breathlessly cried a girl.

Over the journal, Luna could see the familiar red hair of the Weasley family.

"Hello, Ginny."

"Guess who I saw on the Hogwarts train!"

Luna carefully placed Nicolas Flamel's journal on her lap cover up, the book spread open to mark her placed. She gave the question Ginny put forth (even when it wasn't a question) serious thought.

"Your brothers," Luna said with a satisfactory nod.

The large, toothy smile Ginny had on her face faltered slightly. "Well, yes...but that wasn't who I was talking about!"

"Other students?"

"Well...sure, but–"

"Oh, I know! You saw the conductor!"

Ginny looked like she wanted to tear her hair off. "No! Harry Potter! I saw Harry Potter!" She had then started on a gushing spiel about how they had met and even made eye contact, and how being in his very presence was the most magnificent thing in the world, even if she had found out his identity too late to make a difference.

Luna, however, had something else on her mind. "Did he have three heads?"

Ginny frowned. "No. Why would he have three heads?"

"Well, he defeated that one dark wizard–"

"You-Know-Who?"

"No, I don't know who, Ginny. That one dark wizard, you know what I mean."

"You-Know-What-I-Mean?"

"No, that wasn't him either. I don't think it matters, since he's supposed to be dead. Anyways, he was defeated and left that scar on his forehead, right?"

Ginny eyed Luna strangely. "Right," she said.

"Obviously, if Harry Potter didn't have a forehead, he would have died," said Luna in a matter-of-fact tone. "But if he had three heads, he'd then have two more foreheads to protect himself if for some reason the dark wizard becomes alive again. It makes sense, but I guess he's not as lucky as the Three-Headed Snagglewraff."

Ginny blinked, before she started laughing. It was a shrill, child-like laughter, but large enough that she collapsed on the floor, clutching her sides as she continued.

Luna picked the journal back up and started reading, waiting for Ginny to finish. It always ended up this way; they would have a conversation, and Ginny would give her strange looks before laughing, despite the fact that nothing Luna said was intended to be funny. But Ginny's laughter was a sound she enjoyed, so Luna didn't mind it too much.

Her laughter died down as Luna turned the page. Her bed shifted as extra weight was placed upon it.

"What are you reading, Luna?" Ginny asked. Her head was rested on a pillow nearby Luna's shoulder, looking upon the pages with curiosity.

"A journal," Luna said. It was one of the things Nicolas had given her, the text transcribed and transplanted into new journals whenever the old became too brittle or faded ("An alchemy secret," he said with a wink). "Though it reads like some sort of romance book."

Ginny scooted closer, her interest increasing. "Can I read it also?"

Luna smiled, and flipped back towards the first page, holding the book between them both. As she read the words out loud softly, they both took a journey through the life of a young upstart about to attend Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.


"Molly! It's good to see you again."

"You as well, Xenophilius."

"Come in, please! Would you like some tea?"

"Oh, no thank you. I've come to get my daughter."

"Of course. She went upstairs with Luna, and never came back down."

They both shared a smile. Xenophilius lead Molly up the winding stairs, and the few steps it took to reach Luna's room. Xenophilius knocked politely, and opened the door when he heard no answer.

"Luna–" Xenophilius started, but quickly quieted.

Luna and Ginny were laying on top of the bed, in a deep slumber. Ginny rested her head partly on Luna's shoulder, while Luna's head leaned against the top of Ginny's. At the end of Luna's limp arm was a nearly closed journal, the page marked by Luna's lone thumb.

"It looks like our girls are a bit preoccupied," Xenophilius whispered. "Why not let Ginny stay the night?"

"Oh Xenophilius, I wouldn't want to intrude–"

"Nonsense. Your family is always welcome in our home."

"Well, they do look rather peaceful. It's precious." Molly beamed. "I don't suppose that offer for tea is not off the table?"

Xenophilius smiled. Molly left the room to go downstairs, while Xenophilius stepped closer to the bed, using a wand and a muttered incantation to make his footsteps silent. Silently, he grasped the journal from Luna's hand, and marking her place, gently placed the book beside the photo of Pandora and Luna.

He stared wistfully at the photo with a sad smile. He extinguished the light, and after taking one final look, closed the door behind him.