Solara Lovegood and the Shadow of the Dragon

Chapter III: The Tribulations of Pandora

"Confound it all," her mother muttered as the thick smoke cleared, leaving traces of violet wisps floating above the slightly charred cauldron. The small explosion had left dark flecks on her parchment notes and patchwork robes of dark blue and grey, obscuring a section of her carefully written observations. Pandora's sigh filled the cluttered room as she observed the remnants of her spell's latest failed attempt. Beside her, Solara took in the scene with a critical eye, her ever-present play wand in hand, while Luna clutched her arm, watching with an expression caught between awe and apprehension.

Solara tilted her head, inspecting the remnants in the cauldron. She raised her play wand, which she had been using to practice spell movements for years. Though no real magic would come from it, she'd already perfected the flicks and swishes essential for wand control, her stance grounded and her gaze focused.

"The wolfsbane infusion," Solara began thoughtfully, tapping her wand against her palm in the same pattern as the spell's intended flourishes. "You didn't let it age long enough, did you?"

Pandora's eyes lit up, a mixture of amusement and pride. "You're right, my clever girl. I was so focused on the incantation sequence that I didn't adjust the infusion's potency. Fresh wolfsbane is highly reactive and volatile in spell mixtures." She nodded appreciatively. "Your eye for detail, Solara… it's impressive."

As she spoke, Luna, in her bright orange dress and rainbow-colored shirt, leaned forward, her big blue eyes focused intently on her mother. "So… Wolfsbane is bad?" she asked, tilting her head. "Is that why it smells so funny?"

"Not bad," Pandora corrected gently, "but powerful. Wolfsbane has strong magical properties, so it's often tricky to handle. It smells funny because it's strong—magic sometimes has a scent." She paused, giving Luna a curious smile. "Can you smell it too?"

Luna nodded seriously. "It smells… sour." She wrinkled her nose. "Like old soup."

"Maybe that's why it explodes so easily—too much soup flavor." Solara chuckled and ruffled her sister's hair, her thoughts turning dark. "Imagine what it would've done if the concentration were any higher," she mused. Her gaze shifted, though, to Luna, who had been gripping her arm through the entire mishap. Solara suppressed a shiver, a grim thought surfacing unbidden—if she hadn't caught the error, the result could have been far more disastrous. The image of their mother's cauldron exploding in a deadly burst lingered in her mind, and she was chilled by the thought of Luna watching such a thing. In her previous life, loss and death were common companions. But here, she wanted no such thing to touch her sister or their family.

Pandora, oblivious to Solara's dark musings, smiled as she set her wand down and reached for a cleaner bit of parchment. "You know, Luna, that's actually quite clever. Magic has a way of behaving… unpredictably, much like spoiled soup. That's why a wizard or witch must always be precise. And you're learning quickly, Solara. Spellcraft is as much about precision and patience as it is about magic itself. Any wizard can incant a spell, but understanding its components—that's where the true art lies."

Solara's grip on her play wand tightened as she considered her mother's words. This wand, though a mere toy, had become her faithful training tool. Without magic coursing through it, she could still rehearse the sweeping, practiced movements that would one day channel her power. "It's all about balance, isn't it?" she said thoughtfully, raising the toy wand to mimic a smooth, circular flourish. "The right ingredients, the right timing. Like… like a dance."

"Precisely!" Pandora beamed. "A spell must be more than words and wand movements. Magic responds to intention, focus, and every precise motion. Take Wingardium Leviosa for example—the swish and flick." She mimicked the wand movement in the air. "It's a graceful motion, almost like lifting something with a gentle breath. Too rigid, and it won't respond as it should."

Luna, following Solara's movements, frowned as she swished her arm in a mimicked flick. "But if you have to dance every time, how do you stop bad spells? Like if someone… someone throws one at you?"

Pandora's eyebrows lifted, her gaze softening as she watched Luna. "That's a good question, my little moon. There are spells—defensive ones—that you can cast to protect yourself. Protego, for instance, acts as a shield. With practice, you can cast it quickly, almost by instinct."

Luna's eyes widened with fascination. "Like a bubble shield! Can I learn that one?"

"Perhaps when you're a bit older," Pandora said gently, a chuckle in her voice.

As their mother spoke, she held up her hand to the cauldron, gently dispersing the last remnants of purple smoke with her wand. "Now, let's talk about what happened here," she began. "Tell me, Solara, if the wolfsbane was the issue, how would you modify the spell to stabilize it?"

"Wait, so…" Solara said slowly, pausing the discussion about the wolfsbane, as she mirrored the movement with her play wand, "it's not enough just to say the words. You have to… feel it?"

Her mother smiled, though a slight confusion overtook her eyes. "All those books and you never grasped that concept? My dear, were you simply reading them to read them or to understand them?"

"I well…" she stumbled over her reply, her embarrassment turning her pale cheeks beet red.

Pandora's gaze softened as Luna tittered, both clearly delighted by her insight and crimson blush. "Oh, my little star, I'm not judging you for missing that in your readings, I'm just surprised. You're a very intelligent ten-year-old witch. You could arguably attend at least third-year classes by now, if not fourth-year—of that, I have no doubt. But sometimes, to be an effective witch, one must learn to channel magic intuitively. As you get into more complex spells, though, theory and form become crucial, especially when spells interact with specific ingredients or when brewing potions." She gestured to the now-clean cauldron. "This spell, for instance, hinges on wolfsbane's properties, yet I must be attuned to every phase of the incantation. It's something one learns in time—like breathing. Only a spell gone awry is far less forgiving."

The spellbook she'd been working from lay open, a sprawling text titled Concealed Spells and Cloaking Charms, its ancient leather cover cracked with age. Solara's eyes flickered over the delicate script. "I read something similar in Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling," she murmured, almost to herself. "He argued that magic itself is in part a reflection of our inner will. So if a spell reflects our intentions, our emotions… could one, say, adjust the incantation if their focus shifts?"

Pandora blinked, clearly taken aback by the question, though her surprise quickly melted into admiration. "You're quoting Waffling now?" she chuckled, eyebrows raised. "That's certainly a theory, and quite advanced. But yes, Waffling was onto something." She leaned closer, her eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "Though he never explored it fully, the core idea is fascinating, isn't it? When we cast a spell, we project part of ourselves into it. Which is why powerful magic takes so much out of us. If you can harmonize your intentions with the magic itself, you can mold it."

Solara's mind raced, processing her mother's words with a fierce eagerness. "So… if I wanted to adjust a Protego charm to shield against something specific, like, say, hexes, I could—"

"You could adjust its focus, yes," Pandora confirmed, nodding approvingly. "Though you'd need years of training to accomplish something that specific, and likely a good deal of experimentation. Waffling's ideas are often theoretical for even the most skilled wizards, but I see you're already grasping at the edges of advanced spellwork."

"Then," Luna said, a bit more confused, "what if you're mad? Would the spell… break?"

Pandora chuckled, giving her youngest daughter a gentle smile. "It might, yes! Emotions like anger can make a spell unstable. Or, sometimes, if channeled carefully, anger can add power. That's why it's crucial to understand your own emotions and intentions. It's like stirring a pot—too much heat, and it can bubble over."

"Or explode," Solara added with a smirk, glancing at the cauldron.

Luna giggled, looking between them. "So magic is like soup! You have to make it carefully, or it turns… sour." Her nose wrinkled again, drawing a laugh from Pandora and Solara alike.

"Exactly, my love," Pandora replied, bending down to press a kiss to Luna's head. "And that's why I've got two little helpers here. You both help me make sure my soup doesn't explode."

Just then, a loud crash echoed from the next room. They all turned to see three-year-old Gaius peeking around the doorframe, a guilty look on his face and his tiny hands clutching an overturned ink bottle.

Pandora sighed, though she couldn't quite suppress her smile. "Ah, Gaius," she said, shaking her head. "Curiosity runs strong in you too, it seems."

Luna hopped up to help, wiping the ink from the floor with a determined look. Solara, holding her toy wand, gave her mother a wry smile. "Curiosity—or mischief?"

Pandora laughed. "A bit of both, I'd say. But look at you three," she said, watching them fondly. "All so unique, yet each one of you brings a different kind of magic into this house. One day, you'll each grow into your own powers, in your own way."

Solara felt a warmth in her chest as she looked around at her family. In this life, she had more than just ambition or lineage. She had them. A support system that would stand beside her, as grounding as the practice flourishes she'd rehearsed over and over with her play wand. She straightened, her eyes meeting her mother's, and allowed herself to believe—if only for a moment—that the path before her would be filled with strength, knowledge, and, perhaps, something gentler than she'd ever known.

"One day, Mum," she murmured, "we'll see what kind of magic I can really do."

"I imagine it will be extraordinary," Pandora smiled, before shifting her gaze back towards her ruined cauldron. "Now, back to what happened. If the wolfsbane was the issue, how would you modify the spell to stabilize it?"

Solara's fingers traced the air as she recalled what her response was going to be before the conversation had veered off course, envisioning the components and structure of the incantation. "Well," she began, "you'd need something to counterbalance the wolfsbane's potency, wouldn't you? Like dried sage—it's often used to temper volatile ingredients in charm work. Or," she hesitated, glancing at the cauldron, "powdered unicorn horn, if we wanted to make the spell resistant to magical interference."

Pandora's eyebrows lifted with a pleased glint in her eyes, and she nodded thoughtfully. "Sage, yes… an excellent idea, especially given its grounding qualities." She scribbled down a few notes on a scrap of parchment, tapping her quill against her lips. "And powdered unicorn horn—ambitious, but wise. It does indeed lend a sort of magical resilience, which would be invaluable if we wanted to sustain the spell over a longer period or in high-interference areas."

Solara felt a thrill of satisfaction at her mother's approval. Her mind whirred with possibilities, picturing the shimmer of sage leaves drying, the delicate process of preparing unicorn horn to preserve its potency. She knew these weren't just ingredients; each had unique magical properties, traits to be coaxed out with care.

Luna, who had been listening quietly after cleaning up the ink that little Gaius had spilled on the floor, raised her hand as if in a classroom. "But, Mum, wouldn't the unicorn horn make the spell… shiny?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "I mean, unicorns are shiny and sparkly. So the spell would be… like a rainbow?"

Pandora chuckled, reaching over to brush a stray hair from Luna's face. "Not quite, my love. Magic doesn't always mimic the appearance of the creature or object it comes from, but its essence." She tapped her quill on her notebook. "Unicorns are known for their purity and strength of spirit. Powdered unicorn horn lends that quality to spells, making them stable and resistant."

Luna tilted her head, considering. "So it's like a… magic anchor?"

Pandora beamed, nodding. "Exactly! A magic anchor." She glanced at Solara with pride. "Luna may have said it perfectly there."

Solara smiled, gently nudging her little sister. "A magic anchor, indeed. Although," she added, casting a wary glance at the scorched cauldron, "it would have to be very carefully balanced. Too much, and the spell might become sluggish, or… overpower the other ingredients. We'd have to add it little by little."

Pandora nodded, looking at her daughters with admiration. "You're both so very right. Magic is a delicate thing, requiring just as much finesse as it does strength." She pointed to a set of herb jars on the shelf, beckoning for Solara to bring them over. "Let's see, then. With our 'magic anchor' to counterbalance the wolfsbane, we may also want something to enhance flow—a bit of powdered asphodel, perhaps."

Solara reached for the jars, her fingers brushing across the labels, feeling a quiet sense of purpose. "Asphodel," she mused aloud, "it's traditionally used in potion-making, isn't it? Often in Draughts of Peace. So, it would temper the wolfsbane's energy without dampening it too much."

"Exactly," Pandora said, visibly pleased. "This level of focus—this willingness to experiment and analyze—is what will make you an extraordinary witch, Solara."

Luna's small hand tugged on Solara's sleeve. "Will you make a Draught of Peace one day?" she asked earnestly. "To keep the world calm?"

Solara glanced at her sister's hopeful expression, feeling a mix of affection and resolve. "Maybe I will, Luna. Or maybe something even better," she replied, squeezing Luna's hand gently, even as her thoughts turned darker at what 'better' meant.

Pandora watched them both, pride and a hint of wistfulness in her gaze. "There's a certain magic in all of this," she said, her voice soft. "In our family, working together, sharing knowledge… I hope you'll both carry that with you always."

Solara's eyes gleamed as she leaned in, keen to uncover the finer points of the theory. "So why does wolfsbane react so strongly to magical heat, anyway?" she asked. "It's not particularly explosive on its own. What is it about the spell that changes it?"

Pandora considered for a moment, leaning on the counter and speaking with the excitement she reserved for their shared lessons. "Wolfsbane is, in essence, a channel for intense magical energies. When combined with spells designed to amplify or intensify an effect, it reacts unpredictably—its nature is to either contain or violently release the magic it holds. That's why it's used sparingly in most spellwork." Her eyes took on a faraway look as she added, "Think of wolfsbane like a finely tuned string on an instrument. Pull it too taut, and it will snap. But play it with a gentle hand, and it sings."

Solara absorbed this, filing it away as she continued to dissect the spell in her mind. "So if one was not in possession of sage or powdered unicorn horn, then perhaps it would help to split the spell into stages," she suggested, her voice firm with the authority of someone twice her age. "Layer the effects—like a base charm that holds the wolfsbane's potency, and then a separate incantation that activates it. That way, you wouldn't need to worry about the entire spell collapsing if one component went wrong."

Pandora's expression brightened. "Precisely! That's called staged spellcasting—a more advanced approach, but incredibly effective. It requires complex wand movements, of course, to bind the stages together. But it allows for a much higher degree of control." She watched with pride as Solara took out her play wand, tracing a series of careful motions in the air, practicing the hypothetical layering of a spell as though it were second nature.

"You're learning quickly," Pandora murmured, her voice a mixture of admiration and something deeper, almost reverent. "At this rate, Solara, you'll be far beyond your peers by the time you reach Hogwarts."

Solara turned to her mother, a faint smile playing on her lips. "I recall you making mention of me being extraordinary only moments ago," she said with a grin. "I'll create spells that are far more powerful, far more refined than these. Ones that could change everything."

Pandora raised a brow, her eyes sparkling with intrigue. "You're ambitious," she replied warmly. "There's no harm in reaching high. But always remember that the most powerful spells have a cost." Her tone softened, a hint of caution lacing her words. "Power is a tool, my dear, not a trophy. Never let it lead you astray."

Solara merely nodded, acknowledging her mother's words. Yet in her heart, she knew her ambitions went far beyond simple spellcasting. Power was indeed a tool, but it was also the path to everything she had lost. Her grip tightened around her play wand, her fingers instinctively tracing a flourish in the air—a gesture of strength, of claiming something long-awaited.