Alena completed her first five years of schooling at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the highest peak of Mount Greylock. She loved everything about it—the blue and cranberry robes, the golden Gordian Knot that fastened them, and the marble statues that welcomed all witches and wizards at the castle's entrance. She was quite fond of the Pukwudgies that worked the school grounds, no matter how grumpy they were all the time. Alena was quite proud that some of them had actually become fond of her in return. The tall, fragrant pine trees and the luminous fog encompassing the Ilvermorny lands made her feel like she lived in an eerie, yet oddly comforting timberland.

Among her favorite things was a beautiful and unique snakewood tree that resided in a secluded courtyard at the school, said to have grown from the buried wand of Salazar Slytherin. Most students preferred to stay away from the tree, but Alena spent most of her afternoons reading under it with a conjured cup of tea. It offered her everything she could ask for from a tree: a shady place to read and sweet little ironies hidden within its leaves.

The snakewood tree was a living paradox, and this made Alena's heart smile often. It was born from a wand that had carried out much malice in the name of prejudice, and now it prospered on the grounds of a wizarding school partly founded by a muggle—a school that upheld its reputation as one of the least elitist magical schools in the world. The medicinal properties of its leaves healed and mended everyone without bias. Alena took care of the tree as if the love she gave it fed its newfound goodness. The thought of Slytherin rolling in his grave was enough to make Aleena skip her way to the tree every afternoon and consider it a friend.

XX

Her grandfather had initially decided to send her to Ilvermorny as a precaution, but somewhere along the way he began to regret his decision. Every week he sent her a letter—and every week he expressed how much he earnestly despised the distance between them. It wasn't typical for students to be allowed to transfer into Hogwarts; however, when you were Albus Dumbledore's granddaughter, exceptions could be made. Especially if it was his idea.

He had it under good authority that the uprising of a certain dark wizard was imminently brewing. The early signs of Voldemort's forthcoming were there, regardless of people's unwillingness to see them. But then again, he always was a wizard ahead of his time. Was he thrilled to be bringing his granddaughter to the potential eye of the hurricane? Of course not, but he recognized that even at her young age, she was already a very powerful and stalwart witch in her own right.

Regardless, what he really cared about was simply having her near; because aside from Voldemort's return, he also felt his own death approaching. All he wanted was to spend as much time as he could with his beloved grandchild—and he would not let fear stand in the way.

XX

She was Alena Harlowe Dumbledore Lovegood—or Harlie, to anyone who knew her heart.

Anesidora Lovegood was her mum. Thatcher Harlowe was her dad. Both of them were dead.

As far as Alena knew, her grandfather had not been aware that he even had a son—not until the night Thatcher and Anesidora were murdered. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, appeared at the scene of the heinous crime only in time to rescue eight-year-old Alena from the wand of a deranged witch, a Death Eater. Her parents hadn't been murdered because they were related to Dumbledore, as no one knew; they were killed for being mugglesympathizersand activists for muggle-born rights.

It became her grandfather's mission to raise her to be an extraordinary witch—to be smarter, faster, more capable than her peers. It wasn't so much about his legacy, as many were bound to believe. He knew the dangers that would one day befall the wizarding world—and her more so by carrying his distinguished last name.

And also—his legacy.

This task proved to be easy, though, seeing as the young witch wielded a great deal of natural talent and wit, like himself. For as long as Alena had lived with her grandfather, she never lacked a single thing. He took every opportunity to spoil her with the best of everything—not only things but experiences as well. Thankfully, even though he spoiled her as best he could, she never did become rotten.

XX

Dear Harlie,

Words cannot describe how truly delighted I am to hear that you'll be coming back home for good. You're going to absolutely love being a student here at Hogwarts and I can't wait to introduce you to everyone. I wonder what house you'll be sorted into... Well, on second thought, you're probably going to end up choosing it yourself. I'm sure the hat will be stumped trying to sort through the jumbled mess inside your brain!

By the way, I hope you've continued practicing accumency while at Ilvermorny—it'll be quite useful here, believe me. Especially with everything that's coming. I know lots of people say its a load of mumbo jumbo, but I've been feeling changes in the atmosphere and seeing all sorts of creatures come out of the woodwork. I swear to Merlin I saw a heliopath racing the wind the other day and nearly set fire to a patch of dry pasture. That can't be good.

But anyway, I wanted you to know I'll be waiting for you at the entrance of the castle when you arrive. I know how nervous you get with initial introductions and first days. I can't wait to see you and sweet Queenie Weenie.

Love,

Luna

P.S. I really hope you've managed to get some cuttings from the snakewood tree you always tell me about! I'm rather intrigued and would love to study the medicinal properties that surge from a tree that's grown out of a wand with a Basilisk horn core. Why do people have such a hard time believing in Nargles when a tree like that exists?

P.P.S. Remember to think positive thoughts every day to keep the Wrackspurts at bay.

XX

Coming back home. For good.

Alena hoped with her whole heart that it would feel that way.

XX