Potter47 Part Three
The Circle's End "Let it be."
John Lennon
Paul McCartney Chapter Nineteen
In the Moonlight
Luna's eyes snapped open. She hadn't realised she'd closed them. When had she closed them? And why was she leaning on the windowsill?
Luna, suddenly off balance, fell backwards onto the floor, and she noticed that she was in her own room. But she had just been in her mother's room...hadn't she? Then how had she gotten here? What had happened?
She stood up and looked round herself. She couldn't see a thing, save for the glowing face of her bedside clock. It was twenty past four. In the morning? Luna thought, but of course it was the morning—it was pitch dark outside.
Luna didn't for a single moment even think of going to bed. She picked up the flashlight beside her bed and clicked it on. The beam shone dimly and she pointed it in front of her. She did not want to trip on anything; she was achy enough.
Turning her doorknob, Luna stepped out into the hall. Taking note of the thick orange carpet beneath her feet, Luna walked over to the desk. She had to; it was as if something pulled her towards it.
Sitting down in the chair, Luna shined the light upon the mirror.
It was cracked; right there in the frame. A few pieces had fallen out and were on the table top, in a sort of spiral pattern, she noticed. Luna peered at them closer, and saw bits and pieces of her reflection looking back at her. She just stared at them, she did not know why, and suddenly she was in complete darkness, and jumped in her seat.
"Your torch needs new batteries," said a familiar voice. "Perhaps Ronnie's father has some to spare. He collects them, doesn't he? I've always thought he was a bit nutty—"
"Dad?" said Luna with bated breath. "Is that you?"
She knew it was. He's alive, Luna thought, even though she really hadn't had time to actually grieve her father's death. The whole thing had been surreal, and frankly she was just happy to see him—or hear him, as she was doing now.
"'Course it's me," said London, and suddenly a bright light appeared. London was holding his own light, and he shined it up at his own face. "Though I do feel a bit funny. I think I've caught something; I'm achy all over. I was about to make some hot chocolate for myself. What are you doing awake?"
"I, um..." Luna began. "I couldn't sleep."
London nodded. "Do you want some hot chocolate as well?" he asked. "I'd be happy to make some for you."
Luna nodded. "I'd like that," she said, and she pushed back the chair and began to stand.
"Hang on," said London, and he shined his light down at the mirror. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, I was just..." began Luna. "Looking at this mirror. It's broken."
"It is?" said London. He shook his head regretfully. "It's a shame. Your mum loved that mirror."
"I know," said Luna. She walked up to her father. "Let's have that hot chocolate."
London's gaze remained on the mirror. The light twitched violently. "Yes...right. Of course. Let's go." He backed up a few steps before finally turning away from the mirror, shaking himself.
He wrapped an arm round Luna's shoulders and they walked down the stairs. Luna kept as close as possible to her father's warmth; it was unnaturally cold for July. (Not to mention that she just wanted to be near him.)
At the foot of the stairs, London's light found something red and Luna remembered in but a moment that Ron was on her couch. He was sitting upright, apparently awake.
"Ronnie, what are you doing awake!" said London suddenly, clicking off his light and flipping a light switch. The room went from complete darkness to complete brightness in a moment, and it hurt very much, so London quickly turned the dimmer switch down very, very low.
"I couldn't sleep," said Ron, once the shock had worn off. "I guess. I'm awake, right?"
Luna and London nodded unsurely. "Unless we're in your dream, of course," said London.
"Right," said Ron, nodding. "Then I reckon I couldn't sleep. Though I don't remember waking up..." He shook his head. "I don't know."
"Do you want some hot chocolate?" offered Luna. "Dad was just about to make some."
"Oh—sure," said Ron. He stood from his place on the couch, or at least tried to. At first he couldn't manage to quite stand, and fell back down into the comfy pillows. After a moment or two, he'd gotten up successfully and all of them three walked into the kitchen, Luna still very close to her father.
"Do you like marshmallows, Ronnie?" London inquired, opening what seemed to be random cabinets. "Luna, you like marshmallows, I know that."
"Yeah," said Ron indifferently. "Marshmallows are fine."
"Marshmallows, my boy," said London, plucking one of the fluffy squat cylinders from the bag and popping it into his mouth, "are more than fine. They are exquisite."
Ron didn't comment. He glanced at Luna and seemed to be tapping his foot under the kitchen table in a rather odd way.
"Are you OK?" asked Luna, when she noticed this. "You keep tapping your foot."
"I do? I...I am?" Ron leaned over and peered under the table. "Oh, I am. It's a...a twitch, I suppose."
Luna blinked. "Your foot is twitching?" she asked. "That much?"
"Do you feel all right?" London asked abruptly, turning round from the teapot of water he was boiling to examine Ron quizzically. He leaned against the counter.
"What?" said Ron in an odd sort of voice. His foot bumped into the table leg, which in turn caused the napkin-holder to topple.
"It's just..." London couldn't seem to find the right words. "I feel funny — have since I woke up. Achy, and ... and twitchy, as well. If you care to see," he walked over and put his arm out between Ron and Luna. It twitched violently, as if trying to come alive. "It feels like...you know when your foot falls asleep? Or your hand? Or your eyeball-holder? That tingly feeling? Like that."
Ron stared silently at London's arm, and Luna looked at him as he did so. Then a whistling sound alerted London to the boiling pot of water, and he pulled his arm away.
"Hot chocolate's ready," he said, pouring the water into three yellow mugs he'd already filled with cocoa mix. He plopped two large marshmallows into each and handed one to Ron and one to Luna. "Let's sit in the living room — it's comfier."
Ron walked with a funny sort of walk into the living room first, Luna closely behind him with London bringing up the rear. On his way to the couch, London switched on the wireless and slid the volume nearly all the way down.
"I think now's a good time for some Beatles," he said, sitting down on the sofa. Ron took the armchair.
"You think every time's a good time for some Beatles," said Luna, sitting down closely by her father on the sofa. She breathed in the scent of her hot chocolate. "Don't you just love the smell of hot chocolate in the middle of the night?"
"Yes, I—" London stopped and put a single finger in the air. He pointed upward and said excitedly, "Luna, it's your lullaby!"
And so it was. The wireless seemed to grow a bit louder so that they could hear:
"Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup, they slither wildly as they slip away, across the universe...pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind, possessing and caressing me...Jai guru de va om..."
"Funny lullaby," Ron said, brow furrowed. "Is that some other language?"
"Yes," London nodded, "it's Sanskrit." He closed his eyes and nodded his head to the melody. "Never had a clue what it meant, but isn't it beautiful?"
They were silent again.
"Nothing's gonna change my world..."
For some reason or another, Ron's head snapped up and he looked at Luna. London also looked at her, though they both looked confuzzled as they did so.
"What?" said Luna, blowing the marshmallows around in her mug.
"That was odd," said London.
"Yeah," said Ron. He crossed his leg over his knee and took hold of the twitching foot in his hand, trying to still it. His hand only moved with it.
London took a sip of his hot chocolate, and jumped back suddenly. "Hot!" he said, and it seemed he'd burnt his tongue. It took his mind from the odd feeling, but Ron's thoughts still meandered on it.
"Sounds of laughter, shades of life are ringing through my open ears, inciting and inviting me...limitless undying love, which shines around me like a million suns, and calls me on and on, across the universe...jai guru deva om...
"Nothing's gonna change my world..."
Both Ron and London looked up at Luna once again; neither knew just why, but Ron scrunched up his face and put his hot chocolate on the coffee table.
"If you wouldn't mind," said Ron oddly, "I think I'd like to speak with Luna outside for a moment."
"Oh, go ahead," said London, still not daring to take another sip of his hot chocolate. Ron and Luna stood, and Luna put down her mug as well, if somewhat reluctantly. They made fore the exit, and London said: "I'll be fine with John, Paul, George, and Ringo."
Ron turned back, looking questioningly at London for a second, before (on second thought) he shook his head and continued out to the back porch.
It was very dark outside, as was understandable for the middle of the night. What little light there was to see by came from the sliding glass door into the house, and a very distant sort of glow through the trees, coming from the house of the wizard who had flown the country without shutting off his lights.
Sitting down at the table on the porch, Ron put his head in his hands.
"What happened, Luna?" he said. "Last night, I was...fine, I thought. That whole thing with the mirror was a bit odd, but when I went to bed I wasn't twitching like mad, and I didn't feel like...like..."
"You mean you don't remember?" Luna said suddenly, her eyes widening.
"Don't remember what?" said Ron, involuntarily kicking the chair that Luna had just pulled out to sit in. She blinked.
"Oh, Merlin, you don't remember a thing?" she said, putting her chin in one hand and gazing at Ron. "How did that happen?"
"I don't remember what?" said Ron again. "What happened that I don't remember, that would make me feel like..." He paused, trying to think of some way he could possibly explain it. He looked up from his arms. "Like I'm dead and alive at this same time?" He shook his head violently. "No, more like ... like I was dead, but I'm not anymore...but that makes no sense...and how would I know what that felt like?" He put his head back down. Luna felt Ron's foot twitch into her leg.
Luna looked upon the desperate Ron, unsure of what to do. She drummed her fingers against her cheek, thinking. "Ronald," she said, "if I told you that by talking to Mum through that mirror, I unknowingly created an alternate reality in which she was alive, you and I had never stopped being best friends, and Harry and Ginny were both dead, what would you say?"
"I don't know," said Ron. "Why would you say that—"
"Well, would you believe me?"
Ron, his head still in his hands, opened his eyes and fixed them on Luna. "Possibly."
"Well," said Luna, "by talking to Mum through that mirror, I unknowingly created an alternate reality in which she was alive, you and I had never stopped being best friends, and Harry and Ginny were both dead."
"You're kidding," said Ron. "Very funny joke, but I don't think this is the time."
Luna's face was grave. "I'm not kidding," she said, but Ron didn't hear her.
Ron was laughing now, laughing hysterically. "You are joking! Heh...very good joke, Luna." And he kept laughing and he couldn't seem to stop laughing. Luna noticed that there was no humour on his face at all and that he seemed to be trying to stop, but he couldn't. "You have to be joking, because that could never..."
Luna just continued to look at him, and soon his laughter had died down.
"You're not joking," he said simply, looking down at the table. He knew it already; he wasn't asking.
"You died, Ronald," said Luna. "That's why you feel like that. You did die."
"I was dead," began Ron, as if speaking to himself, "and now I'm not. I never thought I'd be able to say that. I never even thought about thinking I would be able to say that..."
They sat in silence for a long time. Luna looked at Ron's face as he stared at the table, and saw a very little boy. He was so...helpless-looking. He just sat there, and for a moment Luna didn't know if he was even breathing. Luna felt a familiar flutter that she'd been too busy as of late to notice.
"I think I remember," said Ron suddenly, breaking the silence. "I just...it's this picture in my head, and I probably made it up a minute ago, but I think I remember... It was this..." He gesticulated vaguely, trying to come up with words. "It was this rose," he said finally. "This red rose, and that's all."
Luna smiled at him, though she did doubt very much whether he was looking at her, or just past her, or even through her. "Good for you, Ronald," she said. "You do remember."
And Ron smiled — just the tiniest bit.
"That's all I remember," he said.
"That's a shame," said Luna. "There were some good things to remember."
Silence.
"Why did it change back?" Ron asked. "Did you change it back? Why?"
"You were dead," said Luna. "I had to change it back."
Silence.
They looked at each other for a long, long while. Ron had his head on his forearms, Luna with her chin on her palm. The just watched each other, neither speaking. Neither feeling that they had to.
And then Ron did speak. He spoke words he had meant to speak for a while: "Luna," he said. "Do you remember the end of last term?"
"Of course I remember the end of last term," said Luna.
"I haven't been able to forget it."
Luna blinked. "It was only a couple weeks ago; why would you forget it? And why would you want to forget it?"
"I don't want to forget it," said Ron. "I mean I haven't been able to get it out of my head."
Silence.
"Everyday," said Ron, "since we came home for the holidays — every night, I should say — I've...dreamt about you."
He was red, Luna noticed. As red as she had ever seen him. She couldn't figure why. Why would anybody be ashamed of their dreams?
"Ronald," said Luna. "In case you haven't realised it, I've dreamt about you every night since I was three."
Now Ron blinked. "Of me?" he said, confuzzled. "Why on earth would you dream about me?" He looked at her as if she was absolutely bonkers.
Luna was affronted. "Why wouldn't someone dream about you?"
"Because I'm me," said Ron.
"Exactly," said Luna. "That's why I don't understand it."
Silence, once again. Luna scooted her chair round the table, scraping it on the floor as she did so, to move it next to Ron's.
"So we've been dreaming about each other for varying amounts of time," summarised Luna. Ron was still as red as the moon in a lunar eclipse, and Luna put her hand on his arm.
"Right," said Ron.
"So what are we going to do about it?"
Ron shrugged. "Who knows?"
"I know," said Luna, and she leaned over the arms of their chairs and kissed Ron right on the lips. He didn't expect it, of course, as he hadn't known to expect anything Luna had ever done in their whole lives, and he was quite startled. She didn't seem to notice that he jumped a foot in the air, or at least she moved with him. He kissed her back, after a long time, and Luna smiled against his lips.
Luna chuckled then, pulling back, and Ron looked down at her, aghast. "It wasn't that bad, was it...?" he asked worriedly.
"Oh, no—" said Luna, shaking her head and smiling. "It's just that...that was my first..." She paused, recalling for a moment the many times in the other life that she and Ron had kissed. "My first real kiss," she finished. "And it was in the moonlight. Just as I'd always dreamed..."
Ron furrowed his brow. "But..." He looked heavenward. "Luna, there is no moon tonight—there's no moonlight."
"There is for us," corrected Luna, and she kissed him again.
After a long while, Ron and Luna went back inside. Reluctantly, thought Luna, smiling down at their clasped hands. The two walked into the living room and there was London, sobbing quietly on the couch.
Luna looked worriedly at Ron, eyes wide. He shrugged, not knowing what was wrong with her father. Then London started singing, singing along with the soft song on the wireless.
"Yesterday...all my troubles seemed so far away...now it looks as though they're here to stay...oh I believe...in yesterday....
"Suddenly...I'm not half the man I used to be...there's a shadow hanging over me...oh yesterday...came suddenly...."
London couldn't seem to find his voice for a few moments. Then he continued, choking on his sobs. He shook the mug in his hands violently and it sloshed about him. He didn't seem to notice.
"Yesterday...love was such an easy game to play...now I need a place to hide away...oh I believe...in yesterday..."
"Why...she...had to go..." London stopped then. He couldn't continue. His mug was empty, the comfort of the hot chocolate spilt all over the fluffy living room floor. He dropped the mug itself then, and the ceramic landed with a thud. It would likely have broken, if not for the rug. London put his head in his hands, and cried, simply cried. He was helpless, a child separated from all he knew, lost in a big sidewalk full of faceless grown-ups.
Luna dashed over to him as quick as she could, not caring one bit that the bottoms her fuzzy-Snorkack slippers would be covered in chocolate. She hugged her father and he clung to her, clung so that she could not slip away from him even if she wanted to. Ron, very awkwardly, put an arm around both of them (for it reached) and Ron and Luna realised that they too had tears in their eyes, and the three sat on the couch until they were all cried out, which was not for a very long, long time.
Are you healing, are you breaking,
Am I burning, am I only melting,
these diamonds in the making?"
Jason Wade Coming Soon