1996-26 June
The meetings with all the professors had been boring during the schoolyear. The last one was worse. We talked about every single one of our students. Like I actually cared if miss. Parkinson was good at reading star charts.
And we also were expected to discuss the possible career of fifth years. Or better, how to tell them, as the professionals we were, that their dreams didn't matter if they didn't study hard, and that it was too late to start in their sixth year. I suggested they started having the career talks after the second year. It would have made so much more sense.
When it came the turn of the fifth year Gryffindor's I had to stop Snape's ranting twice, because nobody else seemed willing to do it.
Thank god after Gryffindor I'm done.
I understood that playing double agent for Dumbledore could be distressing, but there is being tired, and there is being tiring. However, we agreed on the last topic, so I butted in.
"We don't doubt Mr. Potter and Weasley willingness to become aurors, Minerva. But while Mr. Potter is talented on the more practical application of wand based magic; he still doesn't think before acting. And he won't learn it if he keeps getting it his way even when he clearly commits an error or doesn't meet the standards everyone else is held up to. And Mr. Weasley only has the drive to be part of the 'good guys'. They need to learn how to use their brain much more than anything else."
Snape shot me a look between surprised because I agreed with him and irked because I butted in.
I kept going: "Having said that, I won't be the next DADA professor, so it's not really my business. I'll be in touch if I remember to write, now I'll go packing. Sayonara"
I left the room without looking back, the seven of the Department of Mysteries where probably already waiting in the DADA classroom.
"You explained to me exactly what you did on the 23rd night." I started, and for the following hour, I explained what they did wrong and why. More importantly, I asked them what they should have done differently. I made them earn their answers. The twins had been particularly brilliant in their solutions.
We then went over my chat with the death eaters and Voldemort.
"Words are powerful. Attitude and words, when used together, can put the enemy on his backfoot even before the real start of the fight. In the Veil Room, I needed to collect my thoughts, I needed time to plan how to keep you all alive. So, I tried my best to freak them out. With Voldemort, I needed time to heal myself and I hoped Dumbledore would arrive soon. So, I used the truth to lead the Dark Lord around, I avoided cussing because I knew he is from the 70's and at the time they were much more severe while teaching how to be polite. I used little lies, and mostly I framed my assumptions in a way that made them look like I was appreciative of his attempt to conquer magical Britain. And I was able to save our hides because I used my head."
I didn't reprimand them about their stupidity. I had been right; Minerva's tongue lashing had been legendary. The twins had detentions until they boarded the train, Gryffindor had 0 points and the others had detentions already booked in September. Minerva was keeping Potter's wand until he boarded the train as punishment. He didn't really mind, Sirius Black had been declared free and with time he would be perfectly healthy, even if his right arm would always have somewhat limited movements.
I added a little black stone to Luna's bracelet. It was a portkey to Rabbit's Hole; it was password activated with 'Hare'.
I figured out the strange apparition method Voldemort used to disappear from the Ministry without having to break through the wards. It was a part of self-transfiguration and a part portkey magic. Basically, you turned yourself into smoke while making the smoke into a portkey. The wards reacted to a mass that travelled with intent in the case of no apparition wards, and to a solid hook (the portkey) that linked here with there in the case of no portkey wards. So, it was a very useful, very cool trick. And you could drag anyone along with you, without risking mixing up your bodies, because the identity of your magic would not let the two smokes mesh together. I still didn't know what determined the colour of the smoke you turned yourself into, but I would figure it out. It couldn't bring me through the castle walls, but the grounds were fair game. It should even bypass the problem posed to teleportation into enlarged spaces. Because while travelling under 'smoke' form, you weren't really smoke, but a more metaphysical representation of yourself, without real mass. I doubted Voldemort truly understood how close he came to unravelling in the Whole every time he used it, or the true marvel that it was. I experimented with Luna. She became a springy green smoke-like form, I was smoke of a glinting steel grey colour.
The day before I had considered making my apologies to Dumbledore. Fate strung together Potter and Riddle, even with all my preparations I hadn't been able to keep them from their June encounter. Then I remembered that I was talking about Dumbledore and he would have turned my apology into a promise of servitude to the cause. No thank you.
I left a letter among Draco Malfoy's belongings addressed to his father; it contained a second missive addressed to the Dark Lord.
'The next time let's conclude our duel. It's been the best I've ever had.' Signed by One-eye.
I had already gathered my things, and I had prepared a protean charm linked journal, Minerva and Flitwick had the twin. It would be a waste not being able to pick their brains for ideas, and I would honestly miss them.
I floo'ed to the leaky cauldron before making my way to Knockturn Alley, where I purchased the vanishing cabinet from Mr. Borgin for five galleons. After all, it was clearly broken and without its twin.
I apparated to Rabbit's Hole, where I introduced Winky and Tummy to each other.
I filled the food storage of my apartment-trunk with all kinds of nonperishable foods. I added to the first floor of my trunk a hen-house and brought in it 8 hens and a rooster.
It was decided that Winky would stay at Rabbit's Hole since she loved taking care of it.
I modified a bit the first room, rising a wall and putting behind it stuff I didn't want Luna to touch, like the dragon eggs and my more questionable books and notes. I adapted the glass fox Filius gifted me at Christmas to act as a door handle. Canine-tongue was required for the door to my 'study' to open. Winky was given order to treat Luna as family if she ever dropped there.
That evening, I stabbed the ring with a basilisk fang. The soul shard died without causing problems.
Two days later I left my home with a jacket made of sphinx leather and I stole a motorbike, just for shit and giggles. Raven would find her way and I had already sent Kurotsuchi ahead with a letter. It would have been stupid to ask the ministry for an international portkey, and apparating that far was still beyond my abilities. So, I pocketed my shrunk new motorbike and took a train, soon reaching Calais.
"I follow my brother,
who is much quicker,
You can't mistake one for the other,
if he is the wit, I'm the booming laughter.
Who am I?" I asked.
She obviously chose to find me exactly while I was playing riddles with Raven.
"You look old." was the least expected hello I could have imagined, but I would take what I could.
"Hello to you too, Fleur." I answered in fluent French.
I drank the language learning potion as soon as I had reached Calais, a week before. I spoke with exactly two Frenchmen, who gave me their best impression of people that could hate a perfect stranger because he spoke English. Idiots. English is the tongue you speak everywhere in Europe. Get down from your high horse France.
It took me only a day to reach Paris, trains were cool if you wanted to go around unseen, but apparition was still one hell of a trick.
"Well it's true." she insisted, expertly ignoring my mock outrage at not being welcomed properly. She sat at my table, ordering some wine, probably on the expensive side.
We were meeting at a café in magical Paris, in her letter, she sounded happy at the idea of roaming around, playing with magic. I had successfully corrupted her. Oh, she still enjoyed being the centre of the attention, and upper-class things like the wine she was drinking, but she finally recognized the difference between them and what was important.
"I hope you don't plan on me paying for that." I told her, eyeing the drink.
She didn't even answer with words, simply choosing to arch an eyebrow, before looking me up and down, probably searching for signs of financial troubles.
"I knew Britain was a disaster, but I expected a Hogwarts professor to be able to save up something." she teased.
"Oh, I didn't take any money, I find the idea of it troublesome." I answered, catching her flat-footed. I grinned, going on before she could reprimand me "However I have three artefacts I could be... convinced... to study together. And that it's far more interesting don't you think?"
She smirked. She liked this game: "Oh? and what does it have to do with why you don't have any money, like a proper gentleman should?"
"I'm a Wizard. I trade in magic, not the petty things that fools find so worthy of their time. In this case however, I need someone that can teach me how to properly harvest a carcass of a magical beast." I smoothly answered.
She scrunched up her nose in distaste. It was hardly a topic that could accompany her wine properly. She should have known that I didn't flirt. If you and I had a common interest, we could talk about it for years, if we liked each other, like we did (as much as someone could come to like another only through one year of letters mostly about academic topics), I didn't see why I should subject myself to this running in circles. Seducing and being seduced is fun-ish, but hardly something important in a relationship. I gave her a whole year, and I looked closer to the thirties than to my twenties. I understood that she was 'young' to skip the teasing part, but, once again, I couldn't bring myself to care.
"Thunder!" croaked Raven.
The conversation turned into a less tense one after that. She seemed to have understood, even if she pouted.
Turns out she knew that the best armour shop in magical Paris rendered its own creatures, and that they could be persuaded to let a client assist, but only for a price.
I had several thousand galleons tucked away in my trunk exactly for the occasion (thanks to all the Hogwarts students that lost money during the decades), but before I could explain it to her, she already decided to win a little duelling tournament that would be held on Beauxbatons grounds in the third week of July.
"Why would you want to do it?" I asked her in an exasperated tone.
"Because it's your fault!" she exclaimed. It turned out that Headmistress Olympe liked so much the tournament for of age wizards we held at Hogwarts during the Triwizard, that she pulled strings to have one every summer in her school, open to all the ex-students and the occasional guest.
I would not enter, duelling is stupid. I would gladly let her compete, since this was a long field trip for me, nothing else. I would spend my free time modifying the calculations for my modified basilisk hatching ritual. She insisted on having me participate. And since I strongly refused, she wrote me in anyway. I could have given up; it would have spared me the hassle. But it would have felt like letting her win. And it was probably the revenge for my refusal to play the 'flirt me senseless' game.
Magical France was famous for two skills above any other: duelling and enchanting. It had been one of the reasons I willingly choose that country as my first step into the world. Not that France produced better enchantments, only that it produced more duelist and enchanters. Statistically, there was a higher number of masters of the craft among them.
Magical Britain had however become famous, particularly in the last century, for producing monsters. Obviously starting with Dumbledore, then Voldemort and even our own Flitwick.
At the tournament, I discovered I was regarded as one of such monsters. The attention displeased me, but I couldn't deny I was flattered.
I realized that on my record I killed on my own a dragon and a sphinx at seventeen. And with the international coverage of the Triwizard I had caused, a lot of people also saw how I did it.
Thank Merlin the Daily Prophet didn't make it across the pond. I don't know how, but it leaked to the press that I had fought Voldemort to a standstill. It wasn't true, I just stayed alive long enough, whatever transpired, he held me at bay without really putting himself at risk, he was testing me more than anything else. On the paper, I was 19 years old and I taught at Hogwarts already.
Fleur had been very happy to be the one to bring 'such an excellent specimen' to France (Olympe words, not mine). She basically would have made me compete in that silly tournament, nonetheless. I also discovered that a certain Colette had been offered a job with the aurors due to her show in the duels at Hogwarts, and that she often rubbed in Fleur's face that her 'adequate attempt' in the Triwizard didn't show the true might of France to the World. Leaving unsaid that she thought she could do better.
I was intrigued at the idea of seeing Fleur apply the knowledge she had assimilated from my book in her own style. It had been more than a year since our one and only lesson on the more profound aspects of magic.
It turns out the duels were complex things in France. There was a reporter who would comment the magics, as well as the tactics, he looked as stupid as Bagman. And there was a panel of three judges that would evaluate if the duel was 'fair'. Meaning no Fiendfyre or lethal force.
The people I faced were competent. Some fast and powerful, with even one of two I would have called brilliant.
But... I had, in fact, fought a seventy-year-old dark lord in a body he crafted himself for at least twenty minutes. Almost all of them lacked that... push. The one that makes you grit your teeth and think through pain and create something original and truly beautiful.
They were fast and their aim true, but what could they do when ice formed mirrors in front of each of their spells, their enchantments unravelled as soon as they were weaved, and their conjurations either vanished or attacked their own caster? What could they do when a single piece of paper in my hands became thousands of cutting leaves that resisted everything but the strongest fire?
Nothing that's the answer.
Until Delacroix. He could have been famous, I wouldn't have known, but I felt like I was duelling Hashirama from Naruto. There were fucking roots everywhere. Fire proved itself once more the best friend of a gardener. I gave tips here and there; it was probably a side effect from my year spent teaching.
The first fight of the day was the quarterfinals. In the afternoon it was scheduled the semifinal and the last match was to be held the day after. I was to face Fleur. I had occasion to observe a few of her fights, however, judging from the malicious glint in her eye, she probably kept her true tricks hidden to repair me from the dunking in the lake I gave her the last time we crossed wands. I'd say she's vindictive because she's French, or a Veela, but probably it's just a woman thing. I didn't even try to understand it.
I was still annoyed that she forced me to leave the burrow I had dug in a bunch of woods in the outskirts of Paris. I was a fox for god's sake! I could open the trunk and entering it while being human once I was a few feet beneath the ground. The burrow was warded and had two entrances, like every fox wishes for his home. 'It's undignified' she said. Puah! She was jealous of my pretty and perfectly fine burrow, that's obviously it.
She opened the duel with fire. I wouldn't dismiss it, since to underestimate the opponent is to die.
I had been wise. The blue fireball followed me when I moved to the side and dispersed against a stone column I raised from the ground only to take its form again immediately after and closing up on me. Fleur in the meantime hadn't been idle, and shot a preemptive shield breaker along with something that is that a targeted transfiguration?
I had left her the initiative, letting her dictate the pace of the fight. So, I spun and twirled my wand, compressing-warding-releasing the space around me. The transfiguration was flung back, the shield breaker was one of the kind of spells that cut, and so it was unaffected. The blue fireball exploded. I was far enough that it didn't affect me, but it had been an unexpected result.
From her brief instant of stillness, it was a surprise for everyone.
"Beautifully conducted." I taunted her "Would the fire have interacted with the transfiguration?" I was honestly curious. Talking during a duel was bad form, it meant that you weren't really focusing on the fight. But it was true! She was fast on her feet and reasonably adaptable in her strategies. But something that comes with experience is being effective. Every spell you throw should have more than one purpose. That didn't mean that a spell should have more than a single effect, it was impossible. But when I threw an ice arrow, it was because it was set to pierce you, because it was laced with a lightning attracting charm that I could exploit and because it could become a cloud of vapour that would be the opening for my illusions.
She was 'witty', in her answers, meaning that she was sharp and used what was near me as a weapon. Commendable, really. I had her move in a circle along the arena, always forcing her to go right while being careful about hidden quicksand (thank you Voldemort). While moving she weaved enchantments into the ground and the air itself, but they were... quiescent?
That was interesting! That was something she couldn't have done without having made hers the contents of my first book.
She jumped over the trap I was leading her into but was hit by my colour-changing charm.
The redhead snarled. I let out a chuckle, not really watching her. I was listening to what she had done to the arena, but while they were asleep, I couldn't really tell, they were only a promise of something. I raised an ice storm around me, with the shards and snow circulating clockwise and let the lightings run counterclockwise. I wanted to see how she would pass through that.
She tried again with fire, but it was smothered by the cold before it could properly breath.
Then the whatever she had done to the arena awoke. I noticed her raising a stone wall with some effort between us, and more importantly, between her and the enchantment that had been slowly...inhaling? For more than a minute, and I felt almost lightheaded, like... oxygen deprivation.
I dropped my storm before compressing-warding-releasing in a controlled manner around my feet and flinging myself behind Fleur's wall, just in time before the enchantment ignited the fuckton of oxygen it had been storing in a blaze of blue hell. While Fleur was curious to see how his work would turn out, I didn't stop moving and disarmed her before pinning her against the stone wall. I was laughing. "Beautiful." I said, and we both knew to what I was referring to.
She was sweaty and panting, having just shown me an original application of warding that bypassed an alchemy process. Causing a badass boom.
So, I returned my wand to her holster, grabbed her hips and kissed her, not slowly or hesitantly, like usual first attempts are. I was sure of what she and I both felt. And her lips were salty and smooth, like wind from the sea, and her hands that clutched my shoulders were decisive and wanting. "Grab your wand." I grumbled to her.
I ran to the reporter, who turned off the sonorous he had been using until that very moment. "I won, but today I won't be able to attend in the afternoon. Tomorrow I'll face the duelist that you have left, at the same time. So, you can have your show. See ya!" Before the near judge panel could protest, the idiot reporter started exclaiming excited about the 'exciting new schedule'.
I reached Fleur who was still laughing at my actions. Then I performed the smoke transportation, bringing the both of us in the single room of the motel we were sharing. It had obviously been enlarged and was a more than a comfortable apartment. She was a beautiful blue smoke, like the summer skies and her eyes.
1996-25 December Hogwarts Great Hall
A lot of people choose to stay at Hogwarts that year. With the war finally in the open, it was understandable, for the majority of the people at least. She however, how David swiftly noticed in her first year, was far from being part or even resembling the majority. And this year, like many others, he remembered it far too late for his tastes.
Professor Flitwick hopped on the seat next to Luna, and gently asked: "Hello, miss. Lovegood, this is your first Christmas here, and forgive me if I am indelicate, but has something happened to your home?"
Luna slowly blinked in his direction. She always liked to take a second or two before talking with anyone, to make sure the nargles wouldn't be interrupting the conversation or making the other so confused that she wouldn't be able to be understood. It would simply be silly to start a conversation in that case. But then most people just went away before she could answer, and that clearly meant that they weren't really ready to listen, so it was better that they walked away. Even if it saddened her a little every time it happened. And when she found someone who stopped his own clock from going forward so that they could have a nice conversation, like it was properly done, she was already a bit happy.
It was rare that someone understood that if you wanted to bring words into the world, you had to be careful to not spook them, and so it was proper gifting them, after an introduction, only to those who stopped their own time from running away with them, leaving space for both the silence that came before, and the one it would come later.
It was one of the reasons that made her like riddles, after all riddles were introduction to a single word. Given in rhymes, so that you could show the care you would be offering to the answer of the riddle.
But Luna knew it wasn't really their fault, after all they always cut their years in days, their days in hours, they hours in minutes, and even their minutes in seconds. They were mostly being silly, in her wary opinion, how could there be time for them too, if seconds already filled everything?
When they called her names, it hurt a bit too. But they still were only being silly, after all they didn't really have time to understand. She smiled a bit at that absurdity. Like you could own time. Time it was like a breath. Decided Luna. You could take it, but not keep it. Maybe she should make it a riddle for Raven, she was nice, she always had time for both silence and words. Like David. David was nice too. And she remembered when he found a way to show to those that were being silly that there were a lot of reasons to be sure of what they were listening to, and to be kind with the words they introduced to the world. Ginevra had been nice too once, but that had been a long time ago, and she did no longer wait before and after the words.
Professor Flitwick hadn't always remembered to be kind with the words he brought into the air. But for the most part he was being silly so the others that were being silly could understand what he was telling them. He often remembered the patience of the stone, and the hopping of a candle. It must be difficult, reflected Luna, being a candle when you were born a stone. But suddenly, the nargles looked like they didn't want to jumble him, and he also had remembered to let his words settle, before pouring others on top of them.
But he was also Ravenclaw, so she was ready for his riddle. He didn't really want to know if something happened at her home, after all, a lot of things always happened everywhere.
"Daddy had been invited to an expedition in the forest of Canada, they thought that since there it's very cold, almost like Norway, maybe a Snorkack got lost there and they needed an expert."
He had been almost worried at her vacant expression, but he remembered trying to skim her thought once before, just to witness how beautiful the world she saw could be. And he remembered almost crying at having a whole world in your heart that you couldn't describe with words.
"That must be a very lucky opportunity, I hope he manages to find something extraordinary." replied Flitwick, being almost saddened when he noticed that he somehow didn't use the right words to express that if she wanted to talk, he was available. He tried to communicate with her several times during the years, but she seemed to get lost in her own mind at times, or speak in circles that even he, with his considerable ability with words and attitudes, couldn't hope to follow. He had been happy to see David, another of his introverted ravens, being so protective of her and managing to talk in the riddles she seemed to enjoy that much. It had been a relief even during the last year, having him there as a fellow professor. They remained friends, how silly of him to have doubted either of them. However, she was obviously saddened by the absence of her friend, and while he couldn't resent him his dream to see the world, he had hoped that he could have stayed around. For her sake if not for his.
He was startled when she heard her say: "He's not really away." she was stroking absent mindedly a bracelet. With a glowing ember that seemed to burn brighter when miss. Lovegood caressed it.
There were several students that stayed at Hogwarts during those winter holidays. However, the headmaster insisted to have everyone seat at the same table. It was then that an albatross of all things flew in bringing what looked like a package wrapped in Christmas colours. A last minute present maybe? Then it landed and Filius laughed delighted, along with Minerva and Babbling.
The bird was entirely made of little pyramids of paper, that collapsed one upon the other until the albatross was a little chick that stumbled its way into the table to the outstretched palms of a smiling miss. Lovegood.
It chirped.
"I come hidden,
In all forms and more,
often sudden,
and hard to ignore.
I'm glad to be divested,
I hope I'm not making you distressed,
I'm a falling star,
and the blown birthday candle,
I can be a car,
and even a shiny new door handle.
What am I?"
Miss. Lovegood squealed: "A present!"
The chick exploded in a twister of coloured papers that became leaves, they kept moving like a flock around the great Hall, following a music nobody could hear.
Miss. Lovegood opened the package only to find several others wrapped together within.
With the great surprise and trepidation of everyone, she passed the little presents to their rightful owners.
Filius noticed that David had probably gone all out, crafting new spells only for the occasion. But he always had a knack for those.
Minerva opened the little wooden box looking inside before reading the note. But after her sneaked glance, she changed her mind.
Dear Minerva,
When everything looks lost,
put Gungnir
in the hands of a stone soldier.
Careful, it will work only once.
Merry Christmas,
My friend, my teacher, my family
Minerva slowly extracted a spear from a little wooden box that shouldn't be able to contain it. It was two meters long, it had a stone bottom, a long wooden body covered in runes so entwined that couldn't be distinguished from random scratches. The top of the spear was in a very deadly looking black steel, with an Ansuz rune that pulsed steadily, like a beating heart, in white.
Filius took his clue and read the note before opening his present.
Dear Filius
Make sure to throw
Pandora's box very far from your allies
and very close to your enemies.
Like for Pandora,
Elpis should stay with you
Merry Christmas,
My friend, my teacher, my family
Unwrapping the paper slowly, he noticed a vial with a memory, along with a note. 'Instructions for the safe use. The less cryptic version' Filius laughed.
Dumbledore received a note, that he read slowly and that disappeared in a flash of fire immediately after. The old headmaster stroked his beard, thinking so hard it would have killed a lesser man.
He wanted to be seven,
but the eighth he made unwillingly,
destroyed his first.
I burned the raven in the castle
and stabbed a ring.
The badger sleeps under goblin wards
the strange had always found a way.
The snake in the cave was stolen
It's in the hands of the wretched slave of the one that sent Snape to be eaten by Lupin.
His familiar is the last.
Luna took her present eagerly and choosing to keep safe the words inside the note, she didn't read it. She should wait until there was the appropriated silence for those, and the laughing around, while not saddening, was not appropriate.
She opened a small, velvet box.
White light exploded from it like a wave. And everyone could recognize the feeling brought forward by a Patronus. It slowly receded, going back into the little box. It contained a little butterfly hairclip. The insect was smaller than her palm, and its wings looked like light and a laugh, and a day with the exact number of clouds. She let a little tear run away from her left eye. Because the wings of the butterfly were also like a hug she remembered receiving in June, when he said goodbye.