"Good morning, Nolan."
The elderly witch greeted him with a warm smile as she poured herself another cup of tea. "Would you like some ginger-sugar scones? Or the usual—tomato juice?"
"The usual will do, Madam Perona."
Nolan bowed politely before hanging his old, battered hat on the coat rack by the wooden cottage door. It wasn't until the old lady returned with a steaming jug of tomato juice that he finally asked, "Is Professor McGonagall still as busy as before?"
Perona pursed her lips and shrugged, letting out a small chuckle. "Oh, poor Minerva. The idiots at the Ministry are driving her mad. Everyone wants a piece of that fancy new transformation magic of yours. I mean, who wouldn't want to fly with their own wings? Even I'd love to try—I'd turn myself into an old owl rather than rely on a broomstick."
Nolan smirked. "I always thought wizards preferred their usual methods of travel—Floo Powder, Apparition, or…" His gaze flicked toward the battered hat. "Portkeys."
Perona laughed. "Ah, child, people always chase after new things." She took a sip of tea, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Except when it comes to Muggle inventions. Most wizards will never understand telephones. They can't wrap their heads around how voices travel through those wires. It's too strange, too mysterious—it makes them uneasy. Fear often comes from what we cannot explain."
Nolan unwrapped the bundle he had brought with him and carefully placed the pastries made by Theresa and Fi into Perona's basket, replenishing her snack supply.
"Ancestry Magic is a fine piece of magic," he remarked casually. "Once we solve the issue of the bloodline elixir, Professor McGonagall plans to write a book about it. I might have to contribute a chapter or two, but that's not important. Shall we begin our tiresome training?"
"Oh, of course, dear."
Perona was an easygoing person, always smiling. In Nolan's eyes, she was a gentle old witch, full of warmth.
But that was only because he had never seen what she was like before retirement.
Once upon a time, she had been the nightmare of every Dark wizard.
…
An hour later, Perona flicked her wand, effortlessly reversing Nolan's failed Apparition attempt—reuniting his separated upper and lower halves.
"Have some chocolate, dear," she said kindly, holding out a piece. "Apparition training drains your energy."
Nolan shook his head. "This is nothing, Madam Perona. Some wizards might panic at the idea of getting splinched, but I won't. In the vampire world, this isn't even worth mentioning. Even if our heads are severed, we have ways to reattach them."
Perona sighed, shaking her head. "Dear, that isn't something to be proud of. Forgetting pain and fear may make you braver, but it also numbs your sense of danger."
Still, she gave him an approving nod. "Your Apparition was decent, aside from, well… losing your upper body. Let's try again—this time, move outside the courtyard."
Nolan exhaled, rubbing his temples. "I think losing my upper body is a bit more than just a minor mistake."
Deciding he had earned a break, he sat down beside Perona near the lake.
The two of them spent the rest of the noon chatting, the elderly witch reminiscing about McGonagall's younger days.
"So, you were a Gryffindor too, Madam Perona?"
"Oh, yes, dear. I was three years ahead of Minerva."
Perona chuckled as she nibbled on a macaron. "I was on the Quidditch team as well… but can you believe it? By the time I was in my fifth year, Minerva had already become the team captain—even though she had just joined the team. That girl was unstoppable. No young wizard dared to mess with her—they all feared her retaliation."
Nolan smirked. "I can see why. Even now, Gryffindors are terrified of her."
"Oh, Minerva has always been like that," Perona laughed heartily. "Strict, a stickler for rules, and absolutely detests arrogant young wizards who underestimate witches. Merlin's beard, aside from Quidditch and academics, she pretty much hated everything else!"
Her face scrunched up in delight as she bit into another macaron. "Oh, dear, forgive this old woman's one and only vice—sweets."
Nolan replied calmly, "These were made by my family's housekeeper. She's quite skilled. I'm sure she'd be pleased to know you enjoy them."
His gaze drifted toward a nearby hill. "By the way, I haven't asked—who lives beyond that ridge?"
Perona took another sip of tea before answering. "This village is entirely inhabited by wizards. The Lovegoods live at the top of the hill. If you cross that ridge, you'll find the Adams, the Luthers, the Anchester family, and the Weasleys. Across the river, there's a potions farm. Further south, you'll hit the Muggle highway."
"Weasley? You mean the red-haired ones?"
Nolan thought for a moment. He had met quite a few of them before—enough to know they were everywhere.
Perona chuckled, a knowing twinkle in her eye. "I must say, dear, you're quite the accomplished wizard already." She leaned back in her chair. "These days, whenever someone mentions the Weasleys, the first response is always: Oh, the redheads? And you're no different. Oh, Weasleys… they multiply like cockroaches. I've lost track of how many brothers Arthur had. When they were young, they'd come here in swarms, all looking so alike you'd think they were a nest of twins. And this generation? No better. Do you know how many Weasley brothers there are this time around?"
Nolan shrugged. He didn't particularly care.
…
Meanwhile, elsewhere in Hildrey Village, two young girls were playing outside.
If you're wondering what kind of games little witches play, or how their entertainment differs from Muggle children's, I regret to inform you—the answer is rather disappointing.
Wizarding games were… scarce.
The boys had wizard chess and Quidditch, of course.
But the girls? There weren't many toys suited for them in the wizarding world.
So, they did the simplest thing—they held hands and walked around outside, enjoying the fresh air and clean surroundings. Sometimes, if they were feeling particularly creative, they'd sit on the ground and weave flower crowns to wear.
That was the extent of their childhood entertainment.
"My dad bought me a Muggle doll," the red-haired girl said brightly. "Next time you visit my house, we can play with it together!"
The other girl tilted her head, silver-blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. "A doll? Do you mean a Bicorn Snorebeast doll?"
She was the kind of girl you'd never forget after seeing once—her gaze was dreamy, her face unreadable, exuding an air of mystery and grace.
Her most striking feature, however, was her oddness.
Perhaps it was the radish-shaped earrings dangling from her ears.
Perhaps it was the necklace of strange animal bones resting against her collar.
Or perhaps it was simply the way she always spoke—softly, serenely, but filled with the most bizarre ideas, as if she saw the world through a lens no one else could.
One thing was certain: she was not well-liked by the other children.
Hildrey Village was large, home to at least a dozen wizarding children her age.
And yet, of all of them, the red-haired girl was the only one willing to be her friend.
The rest?
They had their own name for her.
They called her Loony.
Loony Lovegood.
And that, of course, was her name.
Luna Lovegood.
~~~----------------------
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