The Curious Case of Luna Lovegood

Chapter 34: Loving Luna

Xenophilius drank from the shaking glass, as his eyes stared aimlessly over the pages of his latest column. The older man's tired fingers ached from another long day of writing, yet it was better than the emptiness that filled his very being. He rubbed his pale green face with his calloused hands, as he remembered what had become of the Muggle, Grimhilde, who had the gall to be judge and jury. However it was the wraith that held the title of executioner.

Xenophilius' skin returned to its normal shade of pale after he had vanished his mess the memory had made on the floor. He looked upon the article with pride as he removed the parchment from the type writer his late wife had bought him many years ago. He had now finished every article for this month's Quibbler, and again it heavily featured his daughter, and her cursed cause, a cause that he somewhat agreed with, and largely didn't.

He held back none of his views on the matter, only his reasons. His daughter's life was her own, as was his, and he flat out refused to tell another soul anything that could endanger them. He treasured his secrets, it was these secrets that had kept his daughter alive for so long, if she was still alive that is..."

One would say he was a man obsessed, and one would be right. After all, what was he, without his daughter? The body of Pandora remained scarred into his mind and the longer Luna remained missing, the more the images of Pandora and Luna began to merge and it was the latter that lay dead on the cellar floor.

It was during moments like this, that Xenophilius would walk out of the house and to the room that held all the pictures he had taken of his daughter. Instead, he opened a little scrap book that held the only remaining picture to survive the destruction of his house. At least that house was rebuilt, but you can't rebuild a picture.

Once again, Xenophilius began to cry as he saw how happy his child once was. Playing with his beloved wife in the backyard, helping her mother paint the house...only with food. The way her face lit up when her mother gifted her with her very own scrap book, so Luna could colour pictures in it like she had done as a child. The final surviving picture made his heart ache. The three of them sitting around a Christmas tree, as Luna held an Owl in her arms. Pandora had joked that Luna had once stared at an Owl for too long, and that was why her eyes were often so wide.

Xenophilius remembered the day the poor Owl died when it gave birth to chickens...in hindsight buying an owl from a three eyed Warlock was most unwise. He remembered how the six year old Luna had cried, how Pandora would offer her shoulder to be dampened with tears and then would sing her daughter to sleep. Pandora had told sweet Luna that the dead never truly leave us, and that they are just waiting beyond the veil for us to join them in our own time.

Xenophilius believed the first part.

Despite everything, the memory still brought a smile to his face as he remembered how close the two were, and how much having a daughter had meant to Pandora. It wasn't good enough though, and now Xenophilius sat alone in his study, dreaming of a past that would never come again.

"I should have been there." The old Wizard whispered to himself, the mantra that haunted his existence.

He was shaken from his mourning by a tapping on the door..Xeno's face turned gray as he shuddered. He slowly walked out of his study and down the stairs until he was standing in front of the back door. He raised his wand and waved the door open. He waved it slowly, but not slow enough, as he flinched in fright of the door's sudden movement. When he opened his eyes he realized there was not a soul in sight, nor any sign anyone was ever here, except for the letter that rested on the welcome mat.

After casting a series of detection spells on the note as he checked for curses, Xenophilius bent down and grasped the letter with his long bony hands. He read the letterhead and gasped, his heart beating in his throat. This note was in his daughter's handwriting.