Chapter 3
Draco was happily munching on an apple when Luna barreled into the kitchen with a sack of something or the other. Her hair was a flurry of white cascading from the high ponytail she decided to encase the beast in. Somehow, her hair was growing curly at the ends like his own and he was awed by it.
His gaze locked over the blue sky and the butterflies darting around in the outside. He always loved the beauty of Japan but Britain had a lot to offer too. He just forgot about it while being abroad. Even when Sakuras held a lot of beauty, he can recognize the beauty held by the European Mountain Ash. He couldn’t wait for spring to arrive and watch all the flowers sprouting in little groups from the big branches.
He yearned to go out and run around with the butterflies.
“Dray!” Luna’s yell made him gasp and swivel around to see his little sister. “Daddy said we could go to the river pond.” She stated the last part so softly that he had to strain his ear to listen properly to her.
He stopped for a second to consider her words.
“When’s Xeno coming back?” he asked softly, still eyeing the butterflies outside.
Luna pondered her words with a hum.
“I think it is going to be later in the evening. He said he needed to run a few errands and wait for your potions to be ready,” she said, head falling over his shoulder. “I think pure air can make you feel better. You have been cooped up with him since you arrived.” She stated in a whisper.
He has been sleeping nearly 14 hours a day since he arrived. Less than the nearly 18 hours sleepy strike from the last year in Japan.
Draco hummed a non-committal answer.
“I’m not sure if I should leave the house, yet, Luna,” he sipped from the mug of pink liquid he had been neglecting for the last hour or so. “I am still not good.”
He was feeling better now that he was back in the U.K. but there was a sting he needed to scratch in order to feel better. It was as if he was closer to the place he was supposed to be, but too far away at the same time. It was bothering him that he had no idea what he was supposed to do now that he was back.
Obviously, his mother told him all about her disagreement of him dropping school altogether and just sticking to the things he liked. Because childhoods aren't supposed to be this boring. She wasn’t happy about that suggestion but he wasn’t so sure how much he could cope being in a new school and having to explain all over again he needed to always have three potions a day, a special diet regimen and explain to all his teachers all of his allergies again.
His absences when time came again.
What came with nearly dying and being rescued by one of the Greatest Wizards of all time. Uncle Newt was an amazing person, but he was doing what he could to ensure his well being and Draco knew he needed to practice if he ever wanted to make it past age forty or something above that. But training has been difficult lately, what with Mahotokouro being in front of the sea instead of in front of a mass of sweet water.
But England wasn’t faring any better and to be honest, he was panicking about that letter that arrived the other day when he was sitting down on the living room’s rug and an owl arrived with the missive. It had the Hogwarts seal at the top and he could see Albus Dumbledore's signature from miles apart.
“Come on,” Luna said, kissing his cheek. “You are too much inside your head lately.” She wounded her hand around his arm and pulled up. "Summer air will make you good."
He moved no one inch.
“You know we can’t be out without permission, right?” he asked her, gulping all of the pink liquid in one go and making a disgusted face at the end. “Bleh.”
“That bad?” Luna asked him, carding a hand through his hair.
And Draco nearly melted. He loved it when people played with his hair. Because, what is the point of having such great hair if no one can appreciate it in real life? He can, but that is not all to that.
“Yes,” he mumbled, still trying to process the ugly flavor. “I need to learn to do that faster,” he stated and raised to his feet.
“Why?” Luna took the mug in her hands and let go of him to put the thing on the sink.
Draco sighed audibly. How does one explain to their little sister that they are not getting better and maybe, he will never be…? In his experience, he shouldn’t say anything about it to her. But Luna was a smart cookie, she would understand if he tried it hard enough, and even if he didn't make it into explaining it all to her, he knew he could always count on her.
His little girl. His magical companion.
“Are you still wanting to go to the river?” he asked after a beat of silence.
Luna’s body buzzed up with her, barely contained, excitement.
Oh, Lord. But he had missed her energy and her kindness so much.
“Let’s go,” and then she was tugging on his hand and pulling him toward the old river. “We can go to the part that is close to the Weasley’s. Just in case you feel sick or tired or need a sip of that yukky potion.”
Yes, Draco loved her oh-so-much.
But…
He turned his nose up and looked down at Luna.
“I am not a pansy in need of care every hour, Luna,” he stated, very high and mighty, and Luna…
Luna laughed in his face.
“Yeah, whatever you need, brother of mine,” she said and started to jog, trying to keep her hand in Draco’s. “There are a few magical fishes down the river now. Mrs. Lowensky’s project blew up in her face and somehow her fishes projects ended up in the river.”
Draco laughed at the old barmy woman’s predicament.
“What was she trying to do this time?” he asked. He knew all about the woman’s mishap with potions and magical ingredients that tended to turn south, rather fast.
Luna turned on her heels, walking with her back, walking backwards. Draco, squashed the need to turn her around and make her right her path again. But, that would be a pain in the ass. And, there would be no laughter when his sister eventually crashed into something or the other.
Trust Luna to do it, even in an open field of corn and high grass.
“I think she was trying to make the British version of Koi fish,” Luna stated, her steps long and carefree. “The Ministry took her though,” Luna said.
Draco furrowed his eyebrow and looked down at his white croc’s sandals.
“Why?” he asked, trying to catch up on the politics of the country.
His Uncle Xenophilus told him that things in the Wizarding World were a little agitated. He told Draco to be good at school and try to keep to himself. With a rare condition like his, he was sure his uncle wasn’t just being paranoid. His Uncle Newt told him that Moldy-Mom took a Maledictus after the break of the first war and as rare as they were, he wasn’t sure how much his condition could attract the attention of said man.
Because Voldemort loved to horde dangerous people and his curse made him a precious gem in the barmy Voldemort's eyes.
But Hogwarts was supposed to be a fortress for him to rest until he had more of a grip over his changings. In Mahotokouro it was getting more difficult with every passing day. The lack of sweat water in nature and the way no one there seemed to be sure about how to help him.
It was forbidden in Japan to curse other people with morphing curses. Especially those that can create a long line of blood curses. The caster and the cursed were soon put to death in Japan in the past. Cursing someone like that was considered an unforgivable and not the bullshit that the British Ministry considered a list of unforgivable: Cruciatus, Avada Kedavra and Imperius, respectively.
In Japan those trees were rarely used and no one really wanted to experiment with them. The wild magic in Japan Wizarding World liked to lash out at those who mistreated her by uttering those spells and no one really wanted to piss Lady Magic.
But Britain was lacking that kind of retaliation, somehow. It made no sense, since magic was supposed to be all around the vortex of the wizarding world of a specific country or region. Katsu-san used to tell him that it had to do with the fact of someone desecrating magic on its purer level: life.
Which made him question it again: who did it in the first place? Lady Magic of Britain was gone during the first time that Dumbledore actually involved himself with the Great Grindelwald and his crimes, which Draco thought weren’t crimes but something else altogether.
But he didn’t know Dumbledore that well to start hypothesizing that can of worms just yet.
And honestly, he wasn’t eager to meet the man. He knew from reads in his old school that Dumbledore came from one of the most powerful lines of wizards in Britain, but Grindelwald himself came from the line of Morgana, the great defender of injustice. So, that left the fact that…
“Ouch!” Luna’s yelp took him out of his reveries and he stopped in his tracks. “You weren’t listening to me.” She pouted, still sprawled on the yellow grass.
Draco smiled sheepishly at her.
“Sorry,” he stated very softly.
She smiled at him.
“That’s okay,” she said, extending up her hand for him to help him. “You were and still are up in your own world,” he took her hand and pulled her up. “Is it a nice place inside your head?” Luna bites on her lip. “Is it part of your illness?”
Draco pulled her closer to his chest and hugged her.
“I don’t think so,” he confided in her. “I think it is a Draco thing.”
Luna hugged him back after that.
“I love you.” She whispered with reverence.
Draco kissed her forehead.
“I love you too,” he mumbled against her head. “Now, let me go. People can actually believe I love you oh-so-much and my image will be ruined by it.”
Luna giggled.
“The crops already witnessed,” she let go of him and stuck her tongue out to him.
Laugh erupted around them and filled the water bank with joy and easy siblingship.
Harry was looking at the sack of groceries Tonks and Kingsley accompanied him to buy early in the day. Harry wasn’t sure where he could acquire such things, but the Aurors were already on his case and out to help him and he was grateful for it all. Being muggle raised was one of the things that actually made him doubt if wizards actually got their groceries from supermarkets like the common muggle.
Was there a wizarding supermarket? Where? Do Gringotts issue credit or debit cards like the muggles? If you want a life subscription for discounts, do they make you sign a parchment or go straight for an unbreakable?
Turns out you needed to visit multiple stores if you ever wanted to finish doing the foodie list. He was exhausted after a day walking behind Kingsley, trying not to crash against Tonks and remembering every single turn and alley they had to duck into to fulfill the gruesome task of finishing a very meagre list of groceries and necessities.
Ugh. He missed Hogwarts already.
“Homenum revelio,” Kingsley intoned and then, the truth was unfolding in front of their eyes.
“Someone’s here with Padfoot,” Tonks stated very softly. “An ally?”
Kingsley seemed to ponder her question for a few seconds, never lowering his wand and keeping Harry behind him, while he tried to assess the situation and understand who was there with Sirius Black, in the very ancient and very creepy, in Harry’s opinion, Noble House of the Blacks. House of a fanatic blood purist and very delusional people.
Wizards.
Witches.
Whatever.
He ended up as the meat of the sandwich when Tonks decided that it was better to cover his back than play everything by the standard book of Auroring. He felt a little bit weird with all his flanks being covered that way, but okay…
And Harry’s heart was beating fast inside his chest when the first sounds of someone hurt reached his ears. It was on a brief impulse that Harry decided that looking ahead would be better than assessing his surroundings. What if the person was there trying to do something nefarious against all of them and are hanging from the walls like Spider-Man. Not that he ever thought that Peter Parker could ever do anything bad in possession of his consciousness and ridiculous moral compass…
“Sirius,” and Harry should have stopped there, when that sound reached his ears, but he did not. He had to power forward, traumatizing himself for life.
He should have stopped and let Kingsley tell him all the brutal, bloodied bodies.
Instead he looked.
“Sirius!” he screeched and reeled back, colliding with Tonks in his haste and sending the umbrella holder down with them. “Oh my God!” He covered his eyes. “I’m gonna be permanently blind now.”
From the floor, Tonks cackled like a mad man and Harry was sure that his face was red, because his cheeks felt flaming hot.
“Hey, pup,” Sirius started and he could hear the rustle of fabric and zip being pulled up with that distinctive sound of whooshup followed by the sound of someone trying to smooth down wrinkled fabric made Harry do the only sensible thing.
“Thanks, Kingsley, Tonks,” he lunged for the nearest floo. “I will see you soon.” and then he was taking a handful of green powder and shouting his destination. “The Burrow!” and green flames were evolving him.
He wasn’t sure how he managed to arrive with all his body standing up, because he was very eager to leave Grimmauld with his sanity intact and seeing Sirius with Remus like that wasn’t helping in the least. Not that he was a homophobe or anything. He was sure he was asexual himself, maybe not aromantic, because he still fantasizes about having a relationship one day, but he didn’t want to see Sirious smooching it with anyone else, especially not with Mooney.
“Hello, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley was with him in a moment, crushing in a hug and dusting the sooth out of his t-shirt. “How are you, honey?”
Harry blushed when he remembered the states of Sirius and Remus.
Would it be too much if he stated that he was traumatized?
“Uh, uh.” He fumbled with his words and Mrs. Weasley herded him toward the kitchen. And it smelled like cookies. “I’m hungry and Sirius doesn’t know how to cook.”
Was the lame excuse he could come up with.
But, Mrs. Weasley, Marlin bless her soul, was already plating a few cookies for him. “Lunch will be served in half an hour. The boys and Ginny are in the pond, trying to catch one thing or the other.” She sighed, very tired.
Harry smiled. His stomach rumbled and made the blush come back with vengeance. This was the karma for saying that Sirius was starving him with his lack of ability in the cooking department, he was sure of it. Karma's a bitch and all that.
“Because of the fish thing?” he asked, munching on his first cookie. He moaned at the taste of chocolate and hazelnut melting against his tongue.
Oh, but Mrs. Weasley is a goddess of her own in the kitchen.
“Because of the fish thing,” she said. “Go fetch them, Harry. Merlin knows it is going to be a while until they finally manage to stop being so enthralled with those horrible fishes and let it go.”
Harry pocketed four cookies and started his walk toward Otter River. He swallowed his first cookie completely and went for the second while he admired the scenery in front of him. The sounds that were so distinctive of the summer where still going on around him: the breeze caressing the leaves on the tree branches, the croaking toads in the shallows part of the pond, the thrill of a few birds nesting around the river to have better access to resources to feed their newborns.
Harry loved it all and he tried to keep those sounds inside his memory. Just like he always tries to keep the sound of his father intact inside his head, from other's memories. Still his.
Not Ron nor the twins or Ginny were nowhere to be seen.
He was ready to call for Ron and the others when he saw white shiny hair gleaming at him under the inclement sun. The person had the same shade of white as Luna, but he was sure it wasn’t Luna. He was sure for all the bullying other students do to Luna, she would never cut her hair like a boy out of her own volition. Luna was too genuine in that way.
But the person was as pale as Luna, white strands of hair dancing around his head with the soft move of the breeze around them. The person was standing on their own two feet, his arms and hands moving in a very complicated dance of flowy and accurate movements, elegant and slow, magnificent and simple at the same time. Grains of corn and grass seemed to float around and away from him in a very simple pattern: flow with the wind.
But leaves and grains and grass were part of the impromptu show and Harry felt rooted to his spot. Unable to open his mouth and interrupt the moment trying to call for his adoptive brothers and sister. He was unable to actually form words, because what he was seeing was... like nothing else.
Magic pulsed out of the person and Harry asked himself if the stranger was older than him. A move of his hand, created a beautiful angle and his feet moved in something that seemed so soft, that it gave the impression that the other was barely touching the earth under his soles.
And the air charged with something that tasted like magic, electricity and strawberry.
“Hello, Harry,” Luna’s voice took him out of his reveries. Because the person in front of him was breathtaking.
He unglued his eyes from the person in front of him and looked at Luna and her long, gleaming white hair.
“Hey, Luna,” he stated softly. “How have you been?” he asked her, taking one cookie out of his pocket and snapping it in half. “Mrs. Weasley,” he offered as a form of explanation and maybe, it was enough, because Luna started to munch on the thing and he followed soon.
Those cookies were part of heaven itself. He was sure of that.
“Very bored,” she stated. “There aren’t enough snorkaks right now,” she stated and lost Harry with that last sentence. “It’s the weather.”
Harry nodded his head and hummed.
“You have a lot of Wrackspurt around you,” she stated very softly. “So, how are you? Any dizziness?” she asked him and he tried to decipher if it was a real question that deserved an answer or if he just should let it be. Hermione was always on him about being too condescendent with Luna Lovegood. “Harry?”
He blinked back into awareness and focused on Luna again.
“I’m fine,” he stated very softly. “I have been very bored, too.” He sighed and tugged on the hem of his t-shirt. “The heat is rising again.”
She nodded her head and Harry noticed for the first time that day that Luna had rings on her hair. And those were the ones making her hair gleam like some kind of moon fairy of an old tale.
“Oh, yes,” she stated very softly. “It has to do with the Makashews.”
The what now?
Harry hummed his answer, not really knowing what else he should have said. His eyes glued themselves again on the stranger.
“Do you know him?” Harry asked her.
Luna hummed too.
“He is my brother,” she stated very softly.
Harry saw his pale hands rais and the river leaped up and out of its normal curse. It enveloped the stranger in rivulets and ribbons of cristal water, while the other seemed to dance with the mass of water. It was finesse and something else that Harry couldn’t describe just yet with words, the only thing that was swirling around in his head was: Majestic.
And when the stranger turned around on naked heels and a baby blue flannel blouse, Harry swore he was hallucinating, because no one could be that kind of powerful and beautiful at the same time. But this stranger, Luna’s brother, was.
And his icey eyes were looking straight into Harry’s soul and he felt like a dying man. Because the taste of electricity and magic is the only taste he had from one of Voldermort’s encounters with him: death.
His heart rabbitted inside his chest and Harry did the only thing he could think about while being in this type of danger: he raised his magic to protect himself.
And then, their magiks were colliding.