Despise Not thy Mother
Chapter 4;
Disclaimer, see Chapter 1
Author's note; This was the hardest chapter to write. Please let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is especially welcome, since I may rewrite it later. Thank you for sticking with me until the end!
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Nine year old Luna Lovegood sad in her bedroom, gazing out the window. Her mother had died three days ago, the funeral was yesterday. Family that she hadn't seen in a very long time, neighbors that she had never met, and most comforting, old friends of her parents, all came from far away to celebrate her mother's life and mourn her death. But now, Luna was pensive, going over her memories.
"That one looks like a unicorn."
"No it doesn't, Mum."
"Yes it does, see the horn?"
"Mum, it looks like a cloud."
She indicated with her finger, "No wait, there's the horn. And it's rearing up on its back legs."
"Mum, it's missing the legs it's supposed to be rearing up on!"
"So put them there."
"But then it could be anything!"
"Exactly."
A cloud floated past her window, bringing her back from her memory. Luna always looked up to her mother, despite the fact that Luna did not share her vivid imagination. Luna needed proof.
But she was finding that she was changing her views. Instead of her mother's death effectively killing her imagination, it actually broadened it. After all, where could her mother have gone? Luna knew she wasn't coming back, but would she join her one day? Could her mother see her now?
Most importantly, did she know how much her daughter missed her?
Luna had been with her mother when she died. It had been horrible, and her father was out of the house, down at the stream, fishing. Mrs. Lovegood had a passion for inventing spells. Luna never really understood why- but it seemed to her now that she wanted to discover something that she could prove to her daughter. Of course, she had managed it in the end, just not in the way either of them had expected. Luna was now flooded with imagination and light and color- so much that her eyes hurt, as well as her head, but most of all, her heart. She would have traded it all for one more day with her mother, though she knew it was impossible.
The light was a winter's light- it looked warm and welcoming, but it was deceptive. The light that filled her was cold. Regardless, it filled her with a sense of hope. And a desire to imagine and create and discover herself.