Her mum used to say that she was born under a lucky star. Her dad liked to say it wasn't just lucky but also special, bringing her the special gifts that she possessed. Luna wasn't quite sure what to think. To some it was a gift, to others a curse. Many didn't take divination seriously at all, but she came from a long line of seers and felt the magic in her core, pulsing powerfully as it fed her bright imagination.
It started when she was just a few years old, the world around her so vibrant, full of wonders. The lake by the house was full of fish, but she made friends with the newts, the toads, and plaited the water lilies from the edges of the lake into beautiful crowns with her innate magic before she could even wield a wand.
On a rainy day just a few days before Halloween, she clambered into her mum's room and opened her drawers, in search of her beautiful scarves to play with. Her mum's clothes always made her feel like she belonged with the fae, beautiful and ethereal. It was then that she discovered the wooden box. It was smooth and darkened with age, a protective sigil carved into the top. She felt the pulse of magic in her fingertips as she caressed the lid and suddenly felt the urge to open it and touch whatever was within.
She sat on the floor, cross-legged and curious as she opened the box and drew out the deck of cards within. She fanned them out in her hand and counted 22 cards in total. The deck was old, she could tell it was handed down, and the art was beautifully hand-painted and preserved. On instinct, she shuffled the deck and cut it just a few cards in to reveal her first draw.
A large moon with a frowning face hung above two howling wolves. The number above the image was in Roman numerals and she counted them on her hand, getting to eighteen. She smiled brightly, realising this must be her mum's favourite card. Dad always used to say mum was the moon and she was their little star. Excited, she took the card and dashed down into the kitchen to show her mum what she found.
Her mum was so lovely, as pale and petite as Luna was sure to stay in years to come, and she always hummed some sort of song under her breath.
"Mum! Look what I found!" She dashed in and presented her with the beautiful card.
Pandora turned to look at her and froze in her step, staring at the card, un-seeing for a long moment.
"Mama?" Luna asked softly, wondering whether her mum was listening to the spirits talking again.
Pandora only blinked to clear her vision away and crouched down in front of her little daughter. "My sweet Luna, I knew the day would come when you find these, though I hoped it wouldn't be quite so soon," she said softly, cupping her cheek with a sad smile.
"Why are you sad, mama? Did I do wrong?" she asked, her voice small and lip wobbly.
Pandora only smiled and shook her head. "Not at all, you did what you were supposed to do. Know that I love you, always will, and keep these cards but use them only when you feel the urge to. They will channel our gift," she promised and kissed her forehead. "Now, why don't you go put this back in the deck and store it in your room? Then we can decorate these cakes together," she suggested.
They were the last words she ever told Luna. The cauldron she had simmering on the stove with a small batch of experimental ointment exploded and burned her beyond recognition, blowing up the whole side of the house.
Luna was never the same, and neither was her dad. But at least they had each other. She didn't think to connect what happened that day with the deck of cards she discovered. That realisation would only come to her in her third year.
It was the year she knew of Harry Potter, but he didn't know of her just yet. And that was fine, she sensed they will be good friends in the future. But the Triwizard Tournament worried her from the beginning. There was something about it that made her stomach tingle unpleasantly in worry. She could never quite name the sensation but butterflies weren't quite right. More like a pile of earthworms, digging around her insides to find their way to the truth, to make it apparent to her. It was the evening of the Third and Final task, they were about to head down into the stands before the labyrinth when she felt it again.
The urge to pick up the deck of cards she always travelled with, just as mama said to keep it close.
She opened the box and shuffled the cards as she had done the first time so long ago. This time, she didn't cut the deck, a card fell from her hands in a shuffle, landing face up to glare at her ominously.
Justice.
The sword raised and the scales lowered, the eternal fight between desires and needs, the mind and the heart. The number 11 at the top of the card felt ominous as well, though she couldn't quite tell why.
The canon roared at seven o'clock, sending Harry and Cedric into the maze first, followed by Viktor and then Fluer. The hours passed by, the band occupied their time by playing various songs and keeping the spirits up in the audience. Two red sparks flew up over the labyrinth, first for Fleur, then for Viktor. She felt a little dizzy, it was difficult to focus, her vision swimming with fire, blood and soot, before the two young men landed on the lawn.
Everyone was on their feet, the mood jubilant for the Hogwarts victors, before they realised something was very wrong. Her heart clenched at the thought of Harry being injured but it was instead the brave Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, who lay dead and unmoving for the view of them all.
The clock chimed eleven strikes over the agonised cries of Cedric's father who held his boy in his arms despondently. Eleven, the number of Justice. She dashed to her room, unable to sleep, unable to focus. There must be a link, there must be some sort of connection…It took her days to figure out the link. She read one book after the other, trying to understand what the cards were trying to tell her, until she stumbled onto a book referencing the astrological connection to Major Arcana, her deck of cards. Each Zodiac sign had a correspondence with one of the cards in the Major Arcana, and she wondered…
Flipping through her notebook, she came to the page where she put down her notes earlier in the night.
First card: The moon
She checked the correspondence and found the link to Pisces, the last of the Zodiac signs. She sat back in her seat, dread filling her chest with a heavy feeling. Pisces was her mum's sign, born under the full moon in late February. Could it be?
Second card: Justice
She drew the card the night of the third task, could it correspond in some way with Cedric? She checked the chapter in the book and found that the card of Justice corresponded with the Zodiac sign of Libra. Could it be? She remembered Cho Chang magically crafting his birthday card in early October last year and showing it to them all proudly. Was it possible that his birthday fell in the dates associated with Libras?
And what about the numbers on the card? 18 and 11? Could 11 be a sign of the hour when Cedric's body was brought to them? That didn't explain the 18 though for her mum. Or did it have a more indirect meaning?
She spent hours over the notes and when she returned to her dorm, she took the previously cherished box and shoved it at the bottom of her trunk, as far as she could. She had hoped it would prove to be out of sight and out of mind as well.
And so it was for a few months, her focus directed to getting to know Harry and learning new charms to defend herself, a proud member of Dumbledore's army. Then she woke up one morning and felt unsettled, the familiar urge to read the cards. Should she?
After barely eating anything at breakfast, she couldn't ignore the call of the deck anymore. She had to read them. So she did, handling the deck with much greater care as she shuffled the cards and instinctively turned the top card which called to her the most. She opened her eyes slowly and dropped the deck as if it had burnt her delicate fingers.
She was looking in the face of Death.
A rider of Death, creation and transformation on a white horse. This time the number above the image was 13, considered by some a lucky number, by others a warning sign. She checked her notes and thought hard - Scorpio, the card of Death corresponded with the Zodiac sign of Scorpio. Was there there anyone she knew who could be in danger? It began with a short list and it grew over the past month to include nearly everyone on the Army list. But as she went down the list of names, dates and zodiac signs, she couldn't spot a single Scorpio. Could it be that the cards were wrong?
She should have known better.
The violent flash of green made most of them pause in their tracks, watching the body of Sirius Black disappear into the veil in the middle of the Death Chamber. Death on a white horse, Sirius the brave knight who came to save his godson...
In the wake of the battle, she found out that the cards were unerring in their prediction - born on 3rd November, Sirius Black had been a Scorpio afterall. But what about the number 13? Was there a connection? It came to her only a few weeks later as she reread her notes from the night.
Albus Dumbledore
Harry Potter
Sirius Black
Ron Weasley
Hermione Granger
Ginny Weasley
Neville Longbottom
Luna Lovegood
Remus Lupin
Alastor Moody
Kingsley Shacklebolt
Nymphadora Tonks
These were all the names of those who were on their side of the battle. But that was only 12, maybe she got it wrong? But then she remembered - there were 13 afterall. Fawkes. The brilliant red and gold bird brought the Headmaster in and reamined to help heal the wounded. 13 warriors on the side of the light.
As the last two years of the war passed, she continued to draw the cards.
The Hermit the morning of Dumbledore's death, born under the sign of Virgo.
And the day of the Final Battle, she drew a full spread: The Emperor, The Hierophant, The Moon, The Chariot, and last but not least, The Devil.
When the dust settled, she knew the cards were for Fred Weasley, Lavender Brown and Tonks, Remus Lupin, Colin Creevey and the veritable Devil for Severus Snape and Voldemort himself.
She felt spent, exhausted and barely healed from her ordeal at the Malfoy Manor and during the battle. But she was alive, so many of them still had a future, and for that she was grateful. She could finish her N.E.W.T.s, hunt for magical creatures and help her dad with the Quibbler. As she put the box of cards at the bottom of her trunk, she finally felt at peace with the cards and their power of divining, perhaps even influencing death through Tarot and Astrology.
2014
As the years passed, the cards remained at the bottom of her drawer, safe but quiet in their magical calling. She was just putting the finishing touches on her latest journal article in late June when her sweet little Lysander ran into the kitchen with a bright smile.
"Mama! Look! Look what I found!" he beamed proudly, showing her his bounty, her gaze falling to the card in his hands.
The young woman pouring jugs into the water knelt beneath a large bright star. Her sweet little boy, only seven-years-old, was holding her fate in his hands. For she was the star, the only Aquarius in the family. And if the gift was ready to pass onto the next generation, it was her time.
She knelt before her beautiful boy, and smooched his cheek until he giggled at the ticklish sensation. "My sweet Lysander," she searched for words and unbidden came the words her mother had spoken that fateful day when she was just nine. "Know that I love you, always will, and keep these cards but use them only when you feel the urge to. They will channel our gift," she promised and kissed her forehead. "Go play now, I'm proud of you my little nargle," she encouraged him before turning back to her writing.
She finished the article, wrote a letter to both Rolf and her little Lysander to open when they were ready, and walked out of the kitchen door, ready to greet death like an old friend, under the twinkling stars by the lake.