31 October 2006
A beam of gentle autumn sunlight flickered across Luna's eyelids. She grunted and buried her face in a pillow, snatching a few more minutes of sleep until she was eased into a pleasant grogginess by the sun warming her skin and the nest of blankets. Ginny's hair glowed golden and her freckles were illuminated into fiery starbursts by the morning light. Luna traced the familiar constellations on her girlfriend's arm.
"Mm." Ginny smiled sleepily, her eyes still closed in defiance of the intruding morning.
"Sorry if I woke you." Luna began tracing the freckles with her lips.
"You don't sound very sorry." Ginny burrowed deeper under the covers and pulled the quilt over both their heads.
"Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" Luna shifted so she could kiss the sprinkling of freckles on Ginny's face and neck.
Ginny nestled closer and wrapped her arms around Luna. The darkness under the blankets was warm with their body heat and their hot, rapidly quickening breathing.
"Well, since you asked, I do have some ideas…"
They were late to breakfast. There were pumpkin pasties, carafes of pumpkin juice, black pudding bats, barmbrack, apple bread, and an assortment of Halloween treats. The younger children were already in their costumes, as they knew that the vigil and anniversary commemoration later in the day would be a more somber affair.
Breakfast at the Circle of Peloresow was usually long and chatty, even more so on special occasions. Luna allowed the pockets of conversation to buffet around her without contributing much, occasionally grazing at morsels of food or reaching out to squeeze Ginny's hand under the table. She always felt pensive on Halloween, particularly in the last few years. The day was soon approaching when Luna would have spent more of her life without magic than with it. She wasn't entirely sure how she would feel when that time came. Luna had never particularly regretted her choice, but sometimes she felt a bittersweet sense of grief for the witch she might have been and the path she had chosen, irrevocably, not to take.
The cheerful ebb and flow of chatter soon calmed Luna's agitated mind and racing heart. The children were boisterously comparing their costumes while Ginny tried in vain to divide them into teams for a special Halloween game of Quidditch with floating pumpkins for hoops and sweets enchanted to fly like Golden Snitches.
Ginny still made wands for anyone who wanted one but had discovered her true passion for crafting custom broomsticks. Each of the kids had a broom as unique as their wand, lovingly carved by hand and with wood, twigs, core, and a battery of enchantments tailored to their strengths and abilities. Ginny had even engineered a two-seater broom so Luna could still go for the occasional ride. Luna smiled as she watched her girlfriend break up yet another sparring match in which her priceless bespoke brooms were used as swords by their ungrateful owners.
Meanwhile, Lavender and Madam Bones had their heads pressed together, no doubt planning another expedition to the abandoned Ministry of Magic complex beneath London. Over the past several years, Lavender had ventured deep into the Ministry, salvaging records and documenting everything she found, particularly in the perilous ruins of the Department of Mysteries. Initially Lavender only wanted to clear her father's name, but Madam Bones convinced her that magical Britain deserved to know the truth of what had happened at the Ministry. The two of them were working on a book about the true history of the Ministry, warts and all.
On the other side of Lavender, Tonks was deep in conversation with Urgnok, Dobby, and a centaur named Magorian about how they could cooperate on fortifications so that the Circle, the goblin caverns, centaur territory, and the Free Colonies each had a diverse series of magical reinforcements drawing from the strengths of each of their magical traditions. This was a longstanding debate not only at the Circle but on the Council, and the centaurs had yet to be convinced. Still, Luna thought it was a small miracle that they were willing to participate in the discussion at all.
People began trickling from the chapter house until most of the lingerers were members of the Council, the loose confederation that had grown out of the Shadow Ministry. There were two representatives each of wizards, Squibs, goblins, elves (one from the Free Colonies and one from Britain), and mermaids (one from the former Ministry preserves and the other from open waters). The centaurs were considering joining with a similar arrangement to the elves and mermaids, but had not yet agreed amongst themselves about the proposition.
Across the table Mrs. Figg was talking with Briar, her closest ally on the Council, about setting up parallel programs to trace the descendants of Squibs and elves separated from their families, which could be used for the dual purposes of reuniting families and distributing reparations and other support. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall was discussing some obscure Muggle law about repatriation of cultural artifacts with a group of goblins who looked intensely interested. Although Luna never ceased to be amazed by the diplomatic skills of the Councilors and their appointed mediators, this was a longstanding debate that went back centuries, and it was exhausting to think about tackling it head on day after day with no end in sight.
Luna admired the Councilors, but she did not envy them. As the years wore on, puberty waned, and Luna settled into her adult self, she felt more and more affirmed by her decision not to take up the mantle of leadership simply because it was expected of her. The mere thought of attempting to divine the future and make an official pronouncement about such thorny questions nauseated her. Though Luna still had an activist's heart, she had no head for logistics and bureaucracy. She loved being involved with Squibs United but loved going home at the end of a protest to her library and garden just as much.
The chiming of the hour startled Luna from her reverie. She was late and more than happy to leave the Council to their business.
Luna spent most of the morning with Natasha, one of the newest additions to the Circle. Natasha was a Muggleborn child who developed an Obscurus when her deeply religious family thought her early displays of unintentional magic were the result of demonic possession. By the time the Council realized that the spate of natural disasters in West Yorkshire was caused by an Obscurial, Natasha was already nine years old and in very grave danger of being eaten alive by the magical parasite.
It was Aberforth who suggested that Luna attempt to replicate the ritual that had stripped her of her magic in order to kill the Obscurus and save the child's life. He had taken a particular shine to Natasha, perhaps because he had spent nearly his entire life regretting that he could not save another scorned, frightened little girl. The gruff old man had even been willing to disguise himself as a Muggle folk healer to convince Natasha's superstitious mother to give him some of her blood for the spell.
In the end it had all been worth it because it worked. Her life had been saved, but Natasha was still struggling to adjust to her new life. Although her family had punished her for the unexplainable events that always seemed to happen around her, magic had provided her with protection, entertainment, and a sense of her own power and importance. It set her apart from her family, made her special. The prospect of living without her only joy and solace in life was painful to the young girl.
They all agreed that the Circle of Peloresow was the safest place for Natasha for the foreseeable future. Luna and Mrs. Figg spent a considerable amount of time teaching Natasha how to live a life without magic in a world of magic: how to cook, clean, and garden, but also how to use the Floo network, send a letter via owl, and navigate the confusing jumble of wizarding currency.
On Halloween, Luna showed her how to carve a pumpkin by hand. Natasha was a quick learner but easily discouraged. She wanted to create fantastical shapes like she had seen the other children do with their wands but was not deft enough with the knife to execute her vision. In some ways, it was a cruel twist of fate that Natasha's first taste of a magical community came too late for her to fully appreciate it. She had been a witch alone among Muggles, and she was now essentially a Muggle alone among witches.
"Let's take a break for a second, yeah?" Luna said after Natasha had thrown her knife down in frustration for the third time.
"You know how there are thousands of witches and wizards in the world?"
"It's no fair to rub it in," Natasha grumbled. She had been lectured countless times about how she should be grateful just to be alive and free of the Obscurus, mostly by adults who couldn't remember what it was like to be a child.
Luna knelt down before the girl. "I'm not rubbing it in. Think about it, all those witches and wizards. And there's just two of us, you and me. We're the only people like us in the whole world. By making ourselves ordinary again, we've gone back round to being even more special than before!"
Natasha considered this. "But witches and wizards can do cool things. We're special but we can't do anything."
"Sure we can. We just have to do it differently. And besides, a very wise woman once told me that there are worse things in the world than a life without magic. And she'd know, she's had quite the life without magic."
"Mrs. Figg?" Natasha had heard the old woman's lectures about Squib rights countless times by now.
"Precisely. Mrs. Figg's done more with her life than plenty of witches and wizards, wouldn't you say?"
"I suppose," Natasha sighed.
"See? Neither is better or worse or right or wrong, just different. Besides, we might be trendsetters. There are other witches and wizards who are interested in doing what we've done."
"Really?! Why?"
"Lots of reasons. I think some of them are just interested in what it would be like. Most of them have decided they don't want or need magic." She'd received a letter from a Muggleborn wizard who was in love with a Muggle and didn't want to have to keep secrets from him. The wizard had never felt fully connected to the wizarding world and viewed magic primarily as a barrier between himself and his family. Aberforth had also expressed interest in the experiment, though Luna worried that he viewed it less as a choice and more as a self-imposed punishment for what happened to Ariana. Most surprising of all was the daughter of a Death Eater who came to see Luna on a rainy day, her low hood failing to fully hide her magically disfigured face. She had seen too much of the pain magic could cause and become disillusioned with the entire wizarding world.
"Will you do the spell on them?"
"Maybe. We're still figuring out the details." Aberforth's mother was long-dead, a former Death Eater would never agree to her child living as a Muggle, and no one knew whether a Muggle's blood would work. Perhaps there was a way to work the magic without the mother's blood, but it would be even more experimental and dangerous. Still, all three were willing to try.
"But the point is, some people would choose this life if they could. You're not alone. You're pretty cool, in fact."
That made Natasha smile despite herself.
After lunch, Luna took Natasha to her weaving lesson with Cressida. Her mother had given up all delusions of grandeur and now spent most of her time bringing up the children. Tommy was still her special favorite, though she also took Natasha under her wing soon after the girl's arrival. Luna had long since shed most of her bitterness about Cressida's mothering during her own childhood. Comparison was the thief of joy, and she was just glad that children who needed it most were being raised surrounded by love. Now Cressida taught the children that all magic came with a cost, and they did not have to pay it if they did not want to. Who they were was more important than what they could do.
Luna offered to stay and help Cressida weave for a while. She knew this particular Halloween was an especially difficult one for her mother. It was not only the twenty-fifth anniversary of the prophecy that had given her life so much purpose and pain, but also ten years since her sister's death and her daughter's choice to forever cast aside the life Cressida had dreamed for her.
Cressida's current project was another tapestry, this one a beautiful illustrated history of the Circle. Mother and daughter worked easily together, alternating between chatter and companionable silence. At the smaller loom across the room, Natasha and Tommy raced to see how quickly they could complete the simple pattern Cressida had set them. The two worked together, magical and non-magical side by side, both children who had been given a second chance, both laughing, both blissfully unaware that the mere existence of this moment was nothing short of a miracle.
Luna reached across the weave to squeeze her mother's hand.
Luna was late for her meeting with Draco but he knew she would be. She was always late and he loved complaining about it almost as much as she loved annoying him. Luna still kept her father's old office as her own. She could have moved all her favorite books to the Circle library years ago but didn't like the idea of the Rook being abandoned once and for all. Besides, Draco refused to return to the Circle under any circumstances, and Luna needed him for her research.
These days she mostly used her own life as a perpetual research project, but she still enjoyed working her way through the list of research rabbit holes she and Xenophilius had begun all those years ago. The question that most interested her was whether her body had retained any residual magical abilities or sensitivities. For the past several years, she and Draco had been testing whether she was still able to do Occlumency. So far their conclusion seemed to be that Luna could not create new mental constructs or actively deflect a Legilimency attempt. However, Draco said her mind bore traces of her previous years of mind magic, and she was still particularly skilled at calming her breathing and clearing her mind.
The cousins worked efficiently and took scrupulous notes, with little conversation that was not directly related to the matter at hand. When they were finished, Draco turned down Luna's first offer of tea, but she knew he would. He ended up staying for one cup like he always did. Her questions were probing, because she knew it would exasperate him. His were not, for the same reason. Luna wanted to hear all about the latest updates in the Council's delicate negotiations about ownership of goblin artifacts, for which Draco served as one of the mediators. He asked whether Ginny and Cressida were well. She asked detailed questions about his Occlumency pupils. He asked vague questions about her other research. They parted on time, like they always did.
Luna was wistful as she scrubbed the tea things in the kitchen. It was exactly ten years since Draco had last been at the Circle. Back then they had been the most reluctant of conspirators, and teenaged Luna could never have imagined willingly being friends with Draco Malfoy. They still weren't friends, she supposed, but they were something more than just research partners and cousins. The two of them did a delicate dance of stiff politeness and barbed impertinence that masked something resembling an affectionate respect. They were on tea drinking terms, but not holiday visit terms. More than acquaintances, but what? As she threw the Floo Powder into the fireplace, Luna finally landed on it.
They had grown up together.
Preparations for the evening's festivities were already well underway when Luna stepped out of the great fireplace in the chapter house. The younger children had been enlisted into decorating the chapter house and the sounds of Mrs. Weasley and her army of helpers cooking the feast could be heard from the kitchens. Tommy and Natasha were in one of the fields setting up candles for the vigil that would honor Lily Potter, Eudora Brown, Eva de Braose, and everyone forgotten by history.
The vigil took place in front of one of the great boulders near the center of the grounds. Carved into it was an updated inscription of their community's purpose inspired by the medieval carving on the wall of the chapter house.
We are creatures of the light.
Luna greeted the kids and ran her fingers over the words as she passed. Not witches, not women, not even people. They had finally settled on creatures. Even laden with all the baggage of the old Ministry terms for classifying living things, it was the most accurate word they could find.
There was still one more Halloween tradition to honor. The little cottage she shared with Ginny was deserted, as were most of the sleeping quarters at this hour. Luna reached under her bed for the old shoebox. It still held her childhood trinkets and poor little rowan wand, along with the Elder Wand and Resurrection Stone.
Luna tucked the Stone safely into her pocket. The Circle had considered destroying the Hallows, but Luna could not bear to see her father's life work reduced to ashes. This had been the compromise: no one ever used the Wand, the Cloak was brought out occasionally for the kids to play with, and they only used the Stone to see Xeno one day each year. This day was the anniversary of so many painful things that it felt only natural to add a tradition of pure joy.
She lingered over the other trophies of her past life. Color-flecked rocks she and Ginny had found in the stream, pressed flowers, collages made out of yellowing issues of The Quibbler. There were her old runestones, clumsily carved by her childish hands. Luna held the pertho rune, the one that had tormented her with its constant resurgence in her divinatory spreads. Mystery, chance, the great unknown. Is this what that little symbol had been trying to warn her about? The great unknown of her strange new life?
Cressida sometimes asked Luna if she wanted to try Divination as part of her experiments, to see whether some trace of Seer abilities still clung to her. Luna could see the quiet hope in her mother's eyes, but she always demurred. She set the runestone back down and returned the box to its place under the bed.
The present was enough.
AN: Thank you for coming along for the ride! It feels so surreal to be done with this story, but I'm also so proud and grateful to be able to see the end. Big thanks to anyone who's read or commented on the fic or talked to me about my ideas. The biggest and most special thank you to tinyporcelainehorses for brainstorming with me, listening to me talk endlessly about this story, and reading every single word I wrote at least twice.
I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts in the comments! My next HP fic will be very different in premise, tone, characters, and setting, but if you're interested in seeing what I concoct next, please subscribe to my author page!