Disclaimer – HP & co, and everything else that you might recognize is not mine
Chapter Three – Home, at the Lovegoods
Three pathetic candles were compassionate enough to bathe the room with their flickering yellow light. In a corner, where the thick shadows of a cabinet concealed her presence, she stood watching bleakly the miserable show in front of her. The script was a simple one, old as time, and played again and again, its appeal sadly never wavering.
She watched as he stretched his hand and grasped the bottle with a firm grip. He poured the amber beverage with generosity, in the glass in front of him. He placed the bottle on the table and drank the burning liquid with even sips. He would then throw the glass in the wall in front of him where it would shatter, spraying the room with shards and the white lime with drops of firewater. With his wand, conveniently placed near his right hand he would conjure a new one. And then, like a well oiled automaton, he repeated the process.
Again, and again, and again.
He had just finished his third bottle.
With a mighty hurl the bottle joined the ever increasing pile of broken glass on the floor.
He stood, looking dumbly at the empty glass clutched in his left arm. He opened his mouth as if to say something, only to close it back, no adequate words coming into his mind. Angry and frustrated he slammed his fist, glass included, into the table's wooden board. Ignoring the sharp sting and the blood that began to flow from his fresh cuts he angrily banished the shards to the floor.
He bent down to the right and pulled another bottle from the crate handily placed at the foot of the table.
He began to pour himself a new one, but stopped midway. He grabbed his wand, and after a moment's hesitation he flicked it and conjured one more glass out of nothing. Then, jadedly, he resumed filling his own.
"Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to join me anytime soon?" his voice was heard echoing indolently in the apparently empty chamber, his eyes fixed on his now full glass. "There are nine more bottles to go and they are not going to be drunk by themselves," he clarified waving tiredly his right hand above the almost full crate.
Without a comment, she detached from the shadows and headed with silent small steps towards the table where she took a seat on a plain wooden chair in front of him.
His eyes flicked for a second to her face which was concealed by the hood of her midnight-blue robe. Only two wide strands of golden hair could be seen emerging from under her top; they flowed from the sides of her face, following the lines of her body until they stopped on top of her breasts. He couldn't distinguish her features, but he didn't have to to know who she was.
"Ishade," he sighted not exceptionally surprised, while he filled her glass to the brink. "There's nothing like a huge crate of Ogdens Old Firewhisky to make one forget about things," he told her wisely.
"Does it work?" she whispered back, her silky voice tinged with sorrow bringing a touch of warmth in the cold room.
"Not at all," he deadpanned before swallowing the content of his glass in one huge gulp. The glass promptly flew behind and above his right shoulder where it crashed hard into a piece of furniture. The furniture survived, the glass didn't.
It had been years since the last time he had put alcohol in his mouth. At that time it almost destroyed him. But then he had his daughter beside him to pull him back, to give him hope and something to live for. What did he have now? She knew the answer to that question, and she was certain that on some level so did he. The trick was to make him realise it.
"Love, you are not helping her if you drink yourself to death," she stated firmly when he tried to take to his lips another full glass. He tried to, but didn't succeed for she had placed her right palm above it, pinning it to the table.
He tried to force the glass free, but the woman's hand flared and the whisky in it evaporated. He slumped in defeat just as the remaining bottles obeyed the spells of his uninvited guest and vanished.
"You've had enough, Love," the woman stated gently, but with a definitive edge that didn't bear any disagreements.
Of course, he disagreed. He hadn't ingested anywhere near enough. He could still talk without stammering for crying out loud! He could still think, and he could still feel. And the feeling of failure he was experiencing was tearing him apart. He wanted to cry and to rage at the world, but he knew, with a lucidity that was driving him mad that it would have been all in vain.
And how he wanted to hate the woman in front of him for taking away his drinks from him. He grouchily admitted that even this he couldn't do. It was official now; he was a certified failure. A loser.
He closed his eyes and let the wave of anger that for a second had surfaced to wash away. With a slow move he stretched over the table and took her white hand into his own. She opposed no resistance as he examined for a long time the rings that adorned her long fingers.
"You and your wonderful rings," he said in a faraway voice, lost for a moment in the history of the round jewels. He shook his head to clear up the cobwebs and looked up at her, without releasing her hand. "Why have you come?"
"When you didn't reach Sweden, we became concerned."
"Of course you did," he interrupted her patient explanation. She ignored him.
"I volunteered to come and check on you," she finished. After a long pose she added. "And it is a good thing I did." The man in front of her could easily picture the small smirk that appeared on her face.
"Ha?" What was good about stopping him from drowning himself in whisky?
"If it wouldn't have been me, then it would have been someone else, and I don't think that they would have been as understanding and tolerant as me."
He nodded in understanding; after all, she did have a point. One could never be too sure what those people would do from one moment to the other.
"It happened, you know?" he asked, a shadow descending upon his face. "It finally did..."
"I figured as much," she sighed, sadly nodding her head.
"I found her on the edge of the lake, near her willow..." he began to explain; a lonely tear escaped from the coffins of his eyes. He opened and closed his mouth several times, struggling to find more words, but none came into his mind. Defeated, he shut his eyes closed, trying not to let despair take a hold on him.
Ishade got up to her feet and circled around the table where he wrapped him in a comforting hug.
"We knew that it wouldn't last forever," she whispered into his ear. "But don't worry, we will find a way, Love. We will find a way to bring her back. You'll see," she added in the most optimistic voice she could manage, which wasn't anything to go by.
"Do you really?" he asked hopefully.
"Love, I do not have that gift, you know that. My big sister was the one who possessed it, not I. But I will do everything in my power to help my niece."
"Thank you," he managed a weak smile.
"My pleasure."
Ishade then proceeded to clean his wounded hand and heal his cuts. Once that was finished, she took him by the hand and guided him to his bedroom where she put him to sleep with the aid of a pertinent sleeping charm. She tucked him carefully beneath the bed spread and slowly backed away from the room.
Once outside, her feet took her directly to Luna's chamber.
In the neat room, Luna slept, beneath the open window, through which the stars and moon shone, caressing her face with their light.
Ishade stopped in the doorway, looking pensively at her niece, raking her brains to find ways in which she could be of help. There had to be a way, it just had to. The only thing she needed to do was to find it, which was easier said than done. She and her sister had failed once, and had made a compromise. And now, the time they had bought back then, had expired.
They had tried to give Luna a childhood as normal as possible. And they had succeeded, sort of. Now if she could only give her a life as well...
"Twinkle!" she called with her voice nothing more then a whisper. "Over here!"
A trail of glittering dust rose above Luna's head. The little fairy flew straight to her, leaving a sparkling path in her wake. She stopped in front of her face, where it levitated in mid air, her ethereal wings moving so fast that they were almost impossible to spot if it wasn't for the glowing they produced.
"Ishy, Luna cannot hear me," the tiny beautiful winged woman lamented to her big friend in her high pitched voice. "I sang to her, and braided her hair, but she didn't notice."
"I know, Twinkle, I know. She can't hear me either. She can't hear anyone, not anymore," Ishade sadly revealed. "But we'll just have to keep trying, won't we?"
The fairy nodded approvingly. "Of course we will! She is right here, only far, far away..."
"You're right. And it is up to us to bring her back," Ishade added encouragingly, and the fairy smiled widely hearing her words. "Please stay with her Twinkle; she needs a friend; now, more than ever."
The fairy made a loop in the air, kissed Ishade on the nose and rushed to her sleeping childhood friend. She cuddled on her left shoulder, covering herself with a strand of her blond hair.
Ishade remained a while longer gazing longingly at the girl who might as well have been her daughter. Only when both her and Twinkle were deep asleep did she slip out of the house, quiet as a breeze. She had a lot to do before she would call it a night.
OoOoOoOoO
It was morning, and a ray of bright and annoying light landed right on the middle of his face, irritating his eyes even through his closed eyelids.
The room was spinning with him, which was odd because he was sure that he had removed those particular charms months ago...
His mouth felt like rotten cotton and his tongue was swollen; not the most pleasant sensation.
To top this off, his body felt like it was full of lead.
And his head was about to pop open; something that he almost wished it happened, if only it would have put and end to his misery.
Even though it took a hell of an effort to get him drunk, he couldn't escape from the horrible hangover. Life just wasn't fair.
If asked, not even Merlin himself knew how he had made it into the kitchen that morning.
The frenetic activity in the usually empty room stopped all of a sudden when he had entered it, badly swaying on his feet and using the walls for support.
He had just tripped on a piece of reckless furniture which had jumped by its own accord in his path and was about to fall when two strong pairs of hands slipped beneath his shoulders to steady him.
He was gently guided towards the table and placed on a comfortable chair.
"Drink, Boss!" a woman's voice commanded, forcing a vial of potion in his hand. The tone of the voice allowed no disobedience. Even if she had addressed him with the appellative of boss, it was quite clear that his authority wasn't enough to evade her order. An authority like that hadn't been invented yet; and wasn't going to be either.
It was a good thing he had his eyes closed, for otherwise not even in a million years would he have brought that vial to his lips. No sane person would have trusted a concoction that managed to turn people's stomachs only when they laid eyes on it. Then again, there were few who accused him of being in his right mind.
Everyone in the kitchen held their breaths while their boss drank the potion. More than a few galleons exchanged hands at that time.
As the potion worked its way down his throat, he could hear from afar the words of a witch.
"Hmm... the scales are fading... the green pigment seems to be resisting though, dilated yellow pupils, uncontrollable muscle contractions..."
That was about all that he heard before he bowled over and spilled out what little amount of fluids remained in his stomached.
When he awoke he had lost all the symptoms of his atrocious hangover. He was clutching another cup in his hand, but this time it was a cup of steaming black hot coffee. He took a grateful sip and looked thankfully at the assortment of people around him. His eyes landed on a short middle-aged plump woman on his right.
"Aply, what was that... thing you gave me?"
"An ancient Aztec remedy," she informed him happily. But before he could say anything she continued. "I had found it long ago, in a fortune cookie while I was on a holiday in Thailand. Though I have never tried it before, I am pleased to say that it worked perfectly."
He groaned. He should have known not to ask questions to whom he wouldn't want to know the answer.
"Now, now Boss," she patted him on the back reassuringly, "you were in no danger at all. Only a couple of the ingredients were mildly lethal, so see? No problem!"
"Oh, somebody obliviate me, please..."
"We can't do that Boss," a vigorous tall man with intelligent eyes piped in from a corner. "If we do that, there would be no one left to lead us further to the picks of the journalism heaven."
His words are accompanied by heartfelt cheers and laughter all around.
"Kowalski, one of this days remained me to fire you." Kowalski nodded, a big smile on his face. "And speaking of the newspaper, if you're all here, who's running the Quibbler?" The Boss asked his chief editors and special reporters.
"The paper is writing itself," a witch who was doing her nails and chewing on a pink bubble gum answered joyfully. "We have enough material for weeks to come, and besides," she added with a knowing smile, "we could always concoct some more."
"You needed us, Boss. So here we are! Wallowing in self pity is very unbecoming of you," another woman chastened. She was looking with undisguised interest at something on the other side of a window. "We'll find a way to help the little princess, you'll see," she turned her head for a moment and sent him an encouraging smile. Then she resumed watching the interesting show outside.
"Speaking of which, where is she?" the father asked wearily looking around, half dreading the answer.
"Outside, with Cinderella," one of the editors which was busy eating a late breakfast told him with his mouth of full ham sandwiches.
The silence that descended in the kitchen made him look up from his plate. The editor felt all the pairs of eyes in the room staring at him in absolute shock.
"Enjoy your meal," the man that answered to the name of Kowalski spoke quietly in the silence. "It's going to be your last."
"What! She didn't hear me, did she?" the man stammered, nervously swallowing the last bits of food from his mouth. "And you're not going to tell, are you? Are you?"
Nobody said anything. They just shook their heads sadly, and the poor man felt beads of ice cold sweat forming on his back.
"Mate, we're not going to say anything, but remember, there are less painful ways to go if you plan to put and end to your days. Not even the Boss can get away with calling her like that, and she has a soft spot for him," a reporter with copper skin whispered in the silence.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll do that," the man breathed in relief, still casting nervous glances all around.
"Boss, do you remember the two adorable and innocent little cubs Lady Ishade has brought back from Africa last summer?" Aply asked, delicately changing the subject.
Mr. Lovegood slowly nodded his head. How could he not remember? They tore apart his office and pretty much everything else in the Quibbler's building before they were subdued. There was nothing adorable about them, and most certainly their blood shot eyes weren't anything resembling innocence. How Ishade, the Lady of Cinders, could possibly love the two kittens was a mystery to him. He always wondered what had happened with them after that incident.
"Well, they are not little anymore... and right now, they are outside, with Luna. She thinks that they would make for wonderful bodyguards for the young miss."
The Boss felt his migraine coming back again. He didn't know what was more disturbing: the fact that Ishade has brought her pets on his propriety, or that he was crazy enough to trust her to do so; probably both. "Has anyone reminded her that it is against the law to even posses such... ahh... creatures?" he asked, even though he had an inkling of what the answer might be.
"No one bothered Boss," Miss Aply shrugged offhandedly. "It wouldn't have made any difference."
"Enough with the depressing stuff," Kowalski shouted, rubbing his hands feverishly. "What's for the agenda today? Conspiracies? Invading penguin armies? Magical abominations? Or plain old Fudge bashing?"
And bit by bit, with the help of his friends Mr. Lovegood managed to pull himself together. It wasn't easy, but in the end the desire to find a cure for his daughter's illness prevailed, a quest on which he and the rest of the Quibbler's crew have embarked with an enthusiasm bordering obsession. They began searching far and wide, looking for even the most insignificant pieces of information that may offer a clue that would take them closer to finding a cure.
And Ishade... Ishade had taken upon herself the job of being Luna's personal nurse, assistant and surrogate mother, making sure that all her needs were properly taken care of. She and her cats had all but moved in for good with the Lovegoods. When she wasn't available, forced by her responsibilities and other obligations to leave for certain periods of time, if no one else, Twinkle, the little fairy, was always ready to help and guard her big fried.
And so, the summer days rolled for the house in the glade.
OoOoOoOoO
Watching the scene playing in front of him, the young Death Eater smirked under the white mask he smugly wore with pride and honor. He had found out early in his short-lived life that the small gesture would always give him an increase in confidence and a reassurance of his feelings of superiority. So naturally, he sported it as often as possible, even in his sleep.
He was impatiently fingering his impeccably polished wand, waiting for the signal to descend upon his pray like a withering embodiment of a vengeful god. For the glory of the Dark Lord! For fame, power and untold fortunes!
Father will be proud!
Though he had secretly wanted to be a part of the team that handled the mudblood, or even that muggle-loving bitch of a weasel he was pleased nonetheless. When the Dark Lord had picked him personally for this job, his chest almost burst from pride, but the consequences of that thing happening would have been dire indeed, so he restrained himself – his new black robes would have become stained with blood and gore and he just couldn't have that.
All he had to do was torture, rape, maim, kill, burn, plunder and destroy, and Voldemort's eternal favor would be his. He had trained hard and long for this, driven by the desire to prove himself to all and show them just what a pureblood of his caliber was capable of. He was ready for this; heck, he had been born ready.
But for the Dark Lord's master plan to be as effective as possible, all four designated teams would have to act in perfect synchronization with each other. So he and his two gorillas had to be patient for another moment or two.
His lustful eyes were fixed on the target. The blond witch was several yards from his hiding spot which was among the thick bushes of the forest surrounding her home. She was seated on the rich green grass, in front of her house, while a fairy was playing with her hair, braiding red and blue flowers in her long locks.
The display was making him sick. Even though she was a pureblood she was clearly filth if she was concerning with lesser beings such as that overgrown fly that flew and sang around her head; and mudbloods, and pesky half-bloods, and muggle loving fools. He couldn't wait to squash the fairy and rip apart its wings – they would make for some fine potion ingredients indeed.
In preparation for the slaughter that was to come, he had cast some low detection spells he had just been taught, and so he new without doubt that she was alone. And he didn't detect any protective wards either. Then again, what could he have possibly found in the home of such moon-struck simpletons?
This was going to be easy; too easy.
His daydreaming was interrupted by a sharp bolt of pain coming from his newly acquired dark mark. It was time; time to contribute with his not so insignificant bit to Scarhead's gift – tomorrow, with all his dear friends destroyed he would have his most horrible birthday yet. The Death Eater would give a fortune just for the chance to see his potty face when he receives the news; he couldn't wait for the first of September to rub it in his face.
Adjusting his robes, he signaled to his two lumbering brutes and together all three of them burst in the open glade yelling their lungs out to terrify the witch, just as they had planned. They held their wands high above their heads, and in their exuberance multicoloured sparks were flying out of them.
Their med dash, combined with their frightening regalia might have reached its intended objective if it would have been directed at anyone but her. As it was, in the unfortunate state she was in, the godmother off all snorkacks could have appeared in front of her to give her candy, and she wouldn't have cared at all. Only the little fairy reacted to their approach, hiding with a frightful yelp in the girl's wavy hair.
The three terrible avatars of destruction stopped dumbly two steps in front of Luna. Seeing that she wasn't yet scared out of her mind they were a little stumped. They hadn't planned for this situation.
Taking initiative into his own hands, the lead Death Eater bent foreword, waving his hand in front of her expressionless face. Not getting any reactions, he swung his fist back and hit her as hard as he could. Without a cry she dropped to a side, knocked out cold. By the time she hit the ground an ugly bruise had already formed on her fair skin.
Still crouched in front of her he turned his head to his companions no doubt to boost about his marvelous deed.
It was then when he heard it, goose bumps appearing on his skin: a deep growl that made the bones in his body to resonate and his hair to stand at the back of his head.
Maybe, if they would have paid just a little more attention to their surroundings in general, and to the area behind Luna in particular they would have spotted the place where the grass was lied down by no apparent reason.
And maybe they would have tried to figure out what caused it, instead of barging in straight ahead like bunch of brainless barbarians.
And maybe they would have escaped their fates; maybe, but not very likely. Nundus are not known for their merciful side.
The two disillusioned cats or the two cute fluffy balls of black fur as Ishade used to name them when she talked about them, were happily drowsing under the warm summer sun when the three wizards with ill intent made their presence known.
Used to the somewhat weird behavior of the people that usually frequented this place, they hadn't reacted at first. As the Death Eaters approached and their smell made itself known, packs of muscles tightened under their black skin. When one of them knelt in front of their witch, sharp claws were extended from their hidden sheaths. When Luna was hit, they pounced, the disillusioning enchantment fading away.
The one from Luna's right jumped gracefully over her prone body and landed with all her considerable weight on the back of the one who had hit the witch. Her claws dug dip into the flesh of the Death Eater, cracking ribs and piercing lungs. Using the body as foothold, she jumped towards her next victim who in the meantime had managed to run a few meters from her. One giant sweep of her paw and one of his legs was neatly detached from his body. He felt, blacking out due to the pain, massive blood loss and heinous dread. The she-nundu hurried to bite his neck to finish him off, but her jaws snapped shut catching only air. The emergency portkey programmed to activate in case of unconsciousness had saved him from the fate of becoming food.
Disappointed she had lost her prey, the female turned to see what her brother was doing. His victim lied dead under him due to a severe bite that chopped his head off. His body had become on big succulent pile of cat food.
The body of the third Death Eater, the one the she-nundu had first attacked had disappeared as well, only a big puddle of blood marking the spot where he felt. Peeved she had lost her chew toys, she carefully approached Luna's body where she promptly began to lick the girl's bruised cheek.
OoOoOoOoO
He stood watching the stars above on the clear summer sky. In nights like this it wasn't hard for him to imagine his wife and daughter laughing and dancing under the light of the moon, amidst the old trees of their forest. He could almost see them, their long blond hair flowing behind them in the wind while they beckoned him to join them.
Now, of all three of them, only he remained in the house that once had been full of life.
Today it had been too close. He had been at work when it happened. From when the alarms ranged and by the time he and his colleagues had reached Luna's gruesome location, it was all over.
One of the nundus, the female, was curled protectively around Luna's body while the other was busy eating from a bloodied corpse. Both nundus were purring contently. The smell of blood and death permeated the air.
The attack upon his daughter hadn't been an isolated incident. Only two hills further down from him another wizarding family had been attacked. The Weasleys hadn't been as lucky as he was. Though the family resisted the attack more or less unscathed with prompt help from Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, their house hadn't – now it was only a big pile of burned rubble.
"Everything will be alright Love," a warm voice came from behind distracting him from his thoughts. Ishade slipped her hands around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder.
"And you've had this revelation... how exactly?" he truly wanted to believe her, but he wasn't sure his heart could sustain more disillusions and false expectations.
She smiled furtively. "I have foreseen it..."
"Ah!" he understood, and even managed to curve his lips in a feeble smile. "You mean to say that you have impudently schemed behind people's backs."
"If you insist, then I suppose you can put it like that," she all but rolled her eyes.
He snorted.
"But amazingly, this time I didn't do much. I didn't have to. I just listen, here and there. You did the rest by yourself."
"Why did you insist to send my daughter away? We could have increased the security around here without too much problems. We could have stayed with her, we could have protected her. Why, Ishade? Why? Just what exactly are you planning?"
"Planning? I'm not planning anything. But I am hoping. And so should you."
"May I even inquire why?"
"Luna is at the nest now, is she not?"
He nodded. He had taken her there himself, just as Ishade had told him to. Leaving her there was the hardest thing he had done. At least she would have a few people of her age around her. Maybe it would do her some good.
"And Love, so is Lily's child," she told him as if this information would have been a sufficient enough information.
"Lily's child?" the man repeated in confusion. "What does Harry have to do with all this? Unless... unless he h-"
"Yes!" Ishade interrupted him. "You have guessed correctly. He has received his Legacy. I have just found out today from a mutual old friend."
A silence stretched between them, while Luna's father pondered at all the complications this situation may arise.
"I want to hope Ishade..."
"But...?"
"But I do not want to raise my expectations only for them to be smashed into pieces a moment later. What irony... James and Lily died on Luna's birthday and now we turn to their son for help... Do you know for sure that he will be able to help my daughter?"
Ishade lowered her omnipresent hood and looked up at Luna's father. She spoke slowly, trying not only to convince him, but also herself.
"No, I do not. There are too many unknowns. We'll just have to wait and have faith. And if he is not the key, or if he is not willing to help her, then we will continue searching. One thing we will not do. We will not abandon Luna."
Mr. Lovegood managed to smile a little, and kissed the top of her head.
"No, we will not. And if you believe, then so do I."
They stayed together, long into the night, taking comfort into each other's company. Above their heads the Moon shone happily.
TBC... next chapter: Hermione's Troubles
AN – in the world of this story, Luna was born on Halloween, 1981