alt_luna | Recent Entries

I know you must have a million and one things to do. But if you are stopping by to visit the injured at any point, I'm in Bed 1C in the Hospital Wing.

I have questions.

To the one who now calls himself Harry Potter:

You belong to me, and always have. This has always been your purpose. This has always been your destiny. Accept it - embrace it.

Come to me and you need never know pain or fear again. Come to me willingly, and you can end this pointless conflict now and forever. Come to me before midnight in two days' time, and no one else need die because of your cowardice. Submit to my will, and understand. It's time, Harry.

Your schoolmates' lives depend on you obeying my command.

The Prefects just broke up a scuffle between Darshana Patil--she's Padma's cousin--and Lakshmi Desai, Professor Desai's niece. Darshana attacked Lakshmi, because she said Professor Desai was going to help kill the seventh years, including her cousin. But then someone sniped to Darshana that it was more likely that her cousin--Padma--would be killing us all.

It's odd to see a fight between witches who are only used to duelling with wands. It's as if they wanted to have a go at each other but couldn't quite figure out how. In the end, it was a lot of hair-pulling and screeching, until Stratus Cuthbert and Belisarius Burbage pulled them apart.

Linus Moon looked quite pained when it was over and fretted that things must be getting rather desperate if the power of poetry was not enough to pour the oil of balm on troubled waters.

Colin,

I was sitting here twiddling my quill for the last quarter hour, trying to think of some reason to write to you. I thought I'd ask you what sort of tree we should plant for Daphne in the Memorial Garden, and we'd talk over some ideas, but that would just be an excuse.

When I leave school for the summer in a month, Mrs Brown is going to expect me to go out on her social calls with her, having tea with all the people she is hoping to impress. Can you imagine? I'm afraid I will just break all the teacups handed to me on purpose.

I wish I were there, at Moddey Dhoo. We could walk around the greenhouse and the gardens again, and I would help you weed, and you would show me your plans for a new garden, and I would doodle in the margins, and we would go swimming on the beach and looking for shells and you would dunk me until I had salt water up my nose. And then you would

You have no idea how horrible it is here. Not the end of term madness, I mean, but the murder of the Head Girl madness. And Hydra worrying about how she's going to avoid being fingered as a traitor, and so she's fingering the Headmaster instead. And Ron and Justin worrying that they're going to be Marked, and Susan worrying about all the little Hufflepuffs who keep waking up their dorm mates with nightmares and Sally-Anne worried about Ron, and about whether she will have enough potions the next time something murderous happens. Artie's worried about Evelyn. Kitty's worried that we'll all be killed before she can pass her NEWTs, and about the Galleon holders who don't know enough to be safe. And Pansy worrying about George, and about everyone.

Everyone's worried about everyone.

I thought tonight that I wished I'd never come to Hogwarts. That I had been Muggleborn, and Mr Longbottom would have carried me away, and I would have been raised on the island, with you and the rest of the children there. But then I felt rather ashamed of myself. It's not fair to wish I could be away from all the danger, and anyway, I wouldn't be the person I am, would I? I would never have known my mum or my dad. I wouldn't have known Ginny, not until years and years later.

But I would have been with you.

I'm not making any sense.

Do you think a flowering magnolia tree would be right for Daphne?

Are you all right?

It's just that you had that diadem for years. Even though you've told me you knew in the end it was bad for you and you were glad to be rid of it, I suppose it must be rather a wrench to know that it's gone for good now.

It's all right to tell me I'm daft (people frequently do). But I just wanted you to know that if you miss it and want to talk about it without being judged for it, I'm entirely willing to listen. I'll even bring tea, if you like.

Word has spread that Professor Dolohov isn't in the castle.

There's a wireless in a corner of the Ravenclaw common room. There's a muffliato sphere around it in case any of the prefects get too near, and the people nearby are pretending to be revising. But it's tuned to the Aldrich town radio station.

Did all you girls get the same thing I did tonight? Tied with your House's ribbon around the vase? He must have left instructions with the Hogwarts house elves to deliver them.

I had to hide the 'Happy Christmas' note with his signature from the Browns.

I don't think I'll ever be able to smell the scent of paperwhites again without crying.

I didn't want to put all our names on the private message, just in case...well, Hydra probably got one, too. Sally-Anne or Justin, are you with her tonight? Wouldn't it be kinder to intercept it before she sees it?

It might be just too painful.

Thank you for asking Auror Brodie about my daddy. I couldn't quite bring myself to ask the question. I wondered whether it was better...

oh, of course it's better to know. It was always only the faintest of hopes anyway.

Colin, I know about Dennis, of course, but do you know if you have any other family, somewhere out there? Has the Order been able to find out anything?

If you know that none are left, is that easier, to really know that you're alone, so that you quit hoping?

Forgive me. I suppose that wasn't a very fair question to ask.

I really wish I could stop this welling up with tears at the most inappropriate moments.

I know, I know, it's dark and the lecture's about to start. But we've found a thestral foal, and it's hurt; it has a torn wing flap and it seems to be in quite a bit of pain.

Sally-Anne or Madam Pomfrey: do you have a suggestion for treating the wing? I don't think we should linger here much longer but aren't quite sure what to do.

I think some Acromantula silk would be useful for a dressing, but Colin and Divyesh are being quite firm that we shouldn't go looking for any now.

I thought you were very brave today. I also thought your eulogy for Percy was quite touching, and certainly no one could have found any reason to object to it. I'm glad you insisted on delivering it yourself. (It was so much better than that dreadful speech Mr Mulciber sent for Bill to read, anyway. Although I must say Bill did a good job of delivering it as if he actually agreed with it.)

Anyway, what you said about how Percy taught you how to read: no wonder you picked it up so early! I almost envied your for your brothers sometimes, whenever Mummy and Daddy would bring me to visit, and how happy you all seemed to be at the Burrow. That's why I was so glad when your mum suggested we start studying together our last year before Hogwarts. Remember how she taught us fractions with the baking lessons? And the apple fights when we were supposed to be gathering them for cider? I still use a lot of the charms she showed us that year.

Anyway. Ever since the funeral, I've just been thinking about it.

I overheard something last night.

I had already blown out my candle for the night, but I couldn't sleep. I thought I'd work on one my sketchbooks by wand light, and I reached for where it should have been, in the little drawer of the table beside my bed, but then I remembered that I'd left it on the window seat in the library.

So I pulled my robe over my nightgown and tiptoed out of my room, and just as I was about to pass Mr and Mrs Brown's room (the door was a little ajar), I heard Mr Brown say something impatient, about how 'Nott would never have agreed to it anyway.'

I stopped then. Since Mr Nott was on the Council, I wondered if they would say anything useful for the Order to know. But then Mrs Brown said--well it was rather muffled, because I think she was pacing back and forth, but I made out 'As long as we have that wretched Lovegood girl on our hands' and 'would have been worth it just to get rid of her' and 'if only he hadn't died, think of the connections we might have made!'

I cast 'notice-me-not' and 'muffliato' charms over myself and inched a little closer to the crack of the door by the hinges. They didn't talk much longer, but I think I managed to learn the gist of what they were saying.

Mrs Brown had hoped to convince Mr Nott that I should be married off to Teddy Nott. The Notts are one of the oldest pureblood families, so they have quite a high status, especially with Mr Nott on the Council, but the families do talk amongst themselves. Teddy Nott was getting to be known as cruel and rather frightening, so Mrs Brown thought that no normal pureblood girl's family would have agreed to the alliance. So she hoped to convince them to settle on me as a solution, because although I'm legally halfblood, everyone really knows I'm pure. 'Best of all,' she said, 'she doesn't have any family to object.'

Mr Brown told her that since the boy was dead it was ridiculous for her to keep fretting over it. They talked some more, but I couldn't hear anything else. Finally, they blew out the lamp, and I tiptoed back to my room.

I think it would be a good idea if I made myself rather scarce for the rest of this summer instead of letting Mrs Brown drag me around to her various teas and charity events. I'd rather not make it easy for her to come up with any other matchmaking ideas.

Maybe Mr Brown is correct, that Mr Nott wouldn't have been interested anyway.

Still...I just didn't realise until now that I had a personal reason to be rather glad that Teddy Nott isn't around anymore.

I'm afraid I scuttled any chance whatsoever I might have had for advancing further with the Dark Arts.

When they called my name, I came into the room where the three examiners sat at a table, all writing furiously with their quills, and the door was shut behind me. A woman was sitting cross-legged on the ground, shivering. From her grey rags, it was clear that she was a muggle. Her head was bowed a little, but I could see tears leaking down her face. Fiery letters on her forehead that spelled out 'FILTH' were fading. They must have been cast by the student just before me.

'Who is next?' the man at the center of the table said, pulling a piece of parchment closer as the two other women examiners looked up expectantly. 'Ah, Lovegood.' He pulled off his spectacles, polished them furiously with a spotted handkerchief, and then honked his enormous beak of a nose into it. 'Go over to that Muggle' he waved a careless hand at the woman on the floor 'and use the Flagrate spell to spell out something...appropriate on her.'

I walked over and looked down at her. There was nothing pretty about her. Her hair was grey, and her hands were swollen as if they had seen hard work. She tried to smile at me, but her lips were trembling and there was a tooth missing.

This is the moment when you must decide, I told myself, but I couldn't think what to write. I thought of my mother, which was odd, because she looked nothing like my mother. I thought of my father, and how I would never know what happened to him, but when he disappeared I was declared a half-blood, which everyone knows is a lie. I thought of Mr and Mrs Weasley, who might have been my parents when my own were gone, except it wasn't allowed.

I've been all but alone for a long time, so I know what it feels like to be lost.

The woman kept staring at me, not flinching away, but shivering.

'Well?' the Head Examiner said sharply. 'Cast your spell, Lovegood. You lose points for delay, you know.'

The hem of her worn dress lay in front of her on the floor. Carefully, I raised my wand and I burned the letters into the fabric, as large as I could make them without actually touching her.

O M E L A S
And then I walked out of the room, without even waiting for them to dismiss me.

Ginny and I were just settling in for a long talk when Mrs Brown came STORMING in to my room! Lavender tattled about me kissing Harry Marvolo at breakfast yesterday and--oh, Mrs Brown started scolding me like a fury, saying I was an ungrateful hussy, and an idiot to raise my eyes to the Lord Protector's son, and how could I bring such shame on their entire family, and then--

oh, she said I was in such terrible trouble that there was no way I could have a guest over, and she sent Ginny scuttling off to the Floo.

Ginny's going to be coming through at the Burrow Floo any second!

Is the meeting over?

Can you, I don't know, HIDE!?

Ginny,

I had sent an owl to the Browns to ask permission for this, and I've just received a note back saying I had it. Would you like to come over Saturday once we arrive at King's Cross, and spend the night?

Please say yes! You know what it's like for me at the Browns', and it would be so dreary to spend the first day of the holidays without a friendly face nearby. I'd like to show you my sketchbooks and you can show me your fashion sketches if you like, and we can talk and giggle over stupid boys and toast crumpets and stay up late like we used to do.

Please? I'm really hoping you can.

You know....

If you manage to time it just right so that you're in the Entrance way to the Great Hall beside Padma's creation when no one else is around, you can put your hand right through it, since it's incorporeal and all. I'm imagining the possibilities.

Well, I suppose I wouldn't have made a very good Beater anyway. Although I was rather proud of that one hit that tore Linus Moon's hat entirely off his head.

Even though I was aiming in an entirely different direction.

Anyway, now that Lee Jordan's gone, perhaps there is an opening for commentating at the matches, and they might consider me. It's worth a try at least.

This is a secret that the other members of the Institute know about, but I think the Order should know, too.

Daddy had two printing presses, a larger one that he used most of the time, and a smaller one, his first press, that he used as backup. The Ministry confiscated the larger press when the Quibbler was shut down, but he had the smaller one stored in the back of our garden shed, because he wasn't using it anymore, and they didn't find it. Daddy then buried it, along with the printing plates.

I know where it is buried, and it would be easier for me to get to it now, during the summer months.

Could the Order use a printing press?

I saw what happened. The kiss, right before we all stepped into the floo at the wedding reception. I think it's quite a good idea, and I've been rather waiting for it to happen for a while.

I hope Ron thought it was a good idea, too. Although he may have been taken a bit more by surprise? Boys sometimes can be a little dense about figuring out that a girl likes them.

Are you feeling better today? Madam Pomfrey is very good, isn't she, so I hope there won't be any scars?

I think we should all carry dittany in our bracelets. And it was very clever of Hermione to slap on some of that leftover spider web that Professor Dolohov used to immobilize her on the cuts. It's very good stuff to stop bleeding.

So I have a kitten purring on my bed. Hermione and I figured out how to break the kitten plate spell just before dinner.

Hermione found the book in the library. It's an ancient agricultural spell: the idea was, you could preserve animals in stasis so you don't have to feed or slaughter them until you're ready. (So, if you have more baby animals than you can really make use of, put the spell on them until you're ready; if you have a steer ready for slaughter but prefer the taste of fresh meat to meat that's been through a preservation spell, you can put the spell on the cow until you're ready for it.) Hermione says the spell probably passed out of vogue as farming became more organised, and wizards were more likely to buy meat from their muggle neighbors. Preservation spells improved, too, so the taste of ensorcelled food was less nasty.

The kitten seems perfectly all right (although who knows how old it really is. I wonder how long it was in that plate?) Portia has a cat, so we have some cat food for it tonight. But she doesn't want another cat, and although I like the kitten, I can't keep her. My foster mother, Mrs Brown, simply hates cats and would never let one in the house.

Perhaps Operation Kitten Rescue could be part of Operation Mayhem?

Addendum: She will go to Evelyn!

He came back to our Common Room and sat with me for awhile, before heading out to Astronomy. I tried to cheer him up by going over notes with him on Care of Magical Creatures and drawing sketches for him he could use for revising for next week's test. He was really quite grateful.

It's so cruel. You just don't do that. Particularly to a Ravenclaw.