I open my eyes and the world is blurred.
It is a while before I realize I am in pain, though exactly how long it took I don’t think I could ever know. It is an ever longer time before I realize I am not quite awake, but it doesn’t take long at all before I realize I am alone.
I lay there for a few moments, wondering why on earth my face feels so warm. Maybe the girls in my dormitory are playing a trick on me. Usually people leave me alone because everyone knows I am friends with Ginny Weasley. No, I am alone, as I previously established. So there must be some other explanation.
I’m just too warm, too cozy, to get up. I think I will just lie here for a bit. Yes, that’ll do. I’ll just lie here…
SHRIIIEEEEK!
My head shoots up (painfully, I might add) and that’s when I know I am no longer in my Hogwarts dormitory.
All around me is grass. In fact, I am lying in grass. I am sleeping in grass. I am practically breathing grass. Whoever saw so much green, green grass? And the sun! Wow! My skin is almost drinking in the sunlight!
I look around a bit more. I am in a grass field, and it is certainly wild. I can’t see any signs that this long, long grass has ever been cut. And there are no fences, definitely no houses, and not an animal in sight.
But if there are no animals, then where did the shriek come from?
SHRIIIEEEEK!
Again with the shrieking! Where on Earth--? Another swivel of my head provides me the knowledge that there is a brown leather knapsack on the ground, hardly two feet away from me. Another piercing shriek fills the air around me and the flap of the bag flies open, then closed as the noise subsides.
Filled with curiosity, I crawl over towards the knapsack and pull it towards me. My body aches and my arms are sort of tingly, like they are when you’ve slept on your arm all night. However, it’s about time that I find out where in the name of Merlin I am.
First out of the knapsack is a book. It is a Muggle history book, by the looks of it. I know this because my uncle Xander was a Squib. His house was always filled with Muggle text books. The book in my hands looks vaguely familiar and I open the cover. Inside is the name “Xander Lovegood.” Ah ha! So this book belonged to old Uncle Xander.
I set the book inside and reach into the knapsack again. Next out is a map. But the map is moving, and it is moving far too quickly for any human being to read. It’s clear that the map has been bewitched so that it could not be read. Perhaps there is a spell to set it straight? I put the map aside. I want to see what else is in the bag.
When I lean down to peer into the knapsack, there is a shimmer of gold. I look down and see that I am wearing some sort of a gold necklace on a long chain. I reach for the pendant and instantly recognize that it is a Time-Turner. I look at it for a little bit before deciding that right now is not a time to make sense of anything when there isn’t any sense going on anyway.
I look in the knapsack and find the source of the noise. It is a Sneakscope. I hardly glance at it though, for there is something else in there.
My hand touches a piece of parchment. It is a very old piece of parchment, by the way it flops easily in my hand. I pull it carefully out and take a good long look at the first words, written in spiky handwriting:
Dear Future Me,
Well isn’t that something? I lean down to try and interpret the following words.
“Well, I suppose you aren’t quite the future me. You’re still me, but you’re IN the future. And I suppose your mind is a little fuzzy, isn’t it? Poor dear. I’m sorry you have to be in pain but you had to take the potion. Time travel as far back in time as you are is very dangerous and very difficult. The potion you took was to protect you throughout your long and confusing journey. It’s going to make your mind fuzzy for just a bit (I think six hours was what Madame Pomfrey said, but surely you’ve already been asleep for at least four) and it’s a good idea if you have some of that potion inside the knapsack. It’s some sort of potion to lessen the headaches and strengthen the bones after being squeezed through huge and significant periods of time.
Anyway, I’m not sure if you remember what you’re supposed to do by this time so I’ll give you a reminder:
Don’t let him get the Book.
Unfortunately, that’s really all I can tell you without clearly violating almost all of the laws of Time Travel. But hopefully it’ll refresh your memory just a bit and help you to get back up on your feet.
Good luck on your mission. Remember: you must not be identified. Seen, yes. Identified, no.
Sincerely yours,
Luna Lovegood.”
I stare at the parchment for a bit. It makes perfect sense. But the words have made my mind a little weak and I can’t help but lay my head down on the soft, warm grass and allow myself a nice doze…
I must be miles away from that soft patch of grass where I woke up. It certainly feels as though I’ve been walking for miles. And miles to go before I sleep, the Muggle poem echoed in my mind, and I smiled with faint amusement. It’s thanks to Old Uncle Xander that I ever heard of Robert Frost. Uncle Xander and his books.
The knapsack is hanging loosely on my back, so light that I often forget that it is there. The only things in there are the history book, map, Sneakscope, and a small canteen that I discovered was in a stray pocket. My wand and letter are tucked safely in my robes and the Time-Turner is hanging around my neck.
The sunlight burns my skin, gently. I don’t think I’ve had anything to drink since I left my original time period, though honestly I can’t remember. Either my brain is being infected with nargles or the sun is making me delusional that I can hardly remember anything from about half an hour before. While the nargle theory seems plausible, and it is one I’d like to believe, it is common knowledge that the tricky little creatures hate bright sunlight.
I sigh as I take the small load off my back and reach for the small portion of water. Hopefully it was packed thinking I would come across a place for food and water very soon. I am famished.
A very, very long, long time later I see it. It is a soft, round hill, and it is oddly formed, as though it was planned to be so perfectly shaped.
It doesn’t take long at all before I am looking at a hole on the top of this perfectly constructed landform. I sigh, easily remembering what I am supposed to do. The grass is still soft and almost squishy beneath my shoes. How I wish I could take off these shoes.
I put my legs through the wide, perfect circle, sitting myself down on the edge. Ever so slowly, I brace my arms on the grass and lower myself into the hollow hill until I am hanging by my fingers. I let go. I fall for a few seconds, the wind rushing through my hair and robes, and I land with a light [I]thud[/I] on the soil floor.
It is dark down here, and awfully musty. Lumos, I whisper, and my own voice startles me. I haven’t spoken in such a long time and my voice is cracked. Nevertheless, my spell lit up the room.
The very first thing I notice is that the room is completely unused. It’s probably been empty for centuries, which makes sense because this area is so deserted. Even if a stray Muggle or wizard happened to come across here, nobody takes interest in holes in the ground anymore. There are holes everywhere.
The next thing about the room that I notice is that it is littered with wooden shelves and parchment. There are tremendously gritty glass bulbs, ancient parchment, animal skin rugs in random places, old parchment, Muggle books from all ages (though none recent, I notice, as I glance at the unusual titles), really old parchment, and tools and instruments of all sorts that look like nothing known to mankind today, and, invariably, more ancient-looking parchment.
I continue to absently gaze in wonder. This place is amazing.
The Book.
The words come to me so suddenly that for a moment I wonder what on earth I meant by that. Then I realize that I was reminding myself of my mission: he cannot get his filthy hands on the Book, my Book.
Thump! Dust and dirt flies everywhere. Really, I didn’t even land that hard!
Wait, somebody just fell in here? Impossible! Unless…
STUPEFY!
I holler it so loud I’m surprised some of those dirty glass bulbs didn’t shatter. Then again, the thick grime on them would probably protect them from much outside contact. I almost giggle at the thought. How interesting…
I think this as I look around to see if I hit my target. I didn’t hear anyone fall, but then again, who can fall when they are already on the ground?
I have yet to find the Book, but I am not going to let anyone get their grubby, evil hands on it before me.
No one.
Oh, great. This is just great. I’m am completely positive that Apparating to an incredibly foreign and deserted town was NOT, in any way, part of the plan. Although, the plan stopped following order ever since someone turned up in an ancient, deserted hole in the ground and tried to kill me.
Fine, maybe they didn’t try to kill me. But it’s possible that they could have tried, which is why it’s such a good thing I am able to keep my wits about me in panicky situations.
I do not often find myself in a position of complete indecisiveness, but suddenly it feels like I am torn between what on earth to do. I am still stuck in this time period…it is the time of our parents’ generation. I have no idea where to go. Everything around me is brown, and in complete contrast to the endless grass meadow. However, in likeness with the grass meadow, it is completely deserted.
How am I supposed to get back to that place and find the Book without getting killed by that freaky ninja man? I mean, anyone that can land with such agility (however loud) has obviously practiced many a time. I wonder if he was a Death Eater that followed me back in time to retrieve the Book before me? Hopefully he didn’t succeed. It may seem downright cowardly for me to run like that, but something just didn’t feel right…
Maybe he had a ton of Ninja Death Eater friends with him that were only waiting for me to turn around.
In any case, the point is that I am here and they (or he. Or she, if we want to get picky) are there. And when I say “there,” I don’t even know where. Which only makes me feel even more lost than ever.
I’ve been wandering for such a long time. Hours, maybe. I’ve managed to refill my canteen many times; the heat takes up so much energy, it seems. Just being in the heat exhausts me. But one thought never leaves my mind and it keeps me going: the Book, Luna. The Book.
My one mission by coming here, to this period of time, was to retrieve the stupid Book from that hill. That’s it. Sure, I knew people would be coming after me. But for goodness’ sake, what’s the point of a wand if you don’t use it?
And anyway, just where the heck am I? Surely not the whole world is so…barren? Good Godric, I am completely hopeless! Even if I were to Apparate I wouldn’t know where to go!
So here I am, standing in the middle of nothing, my feet covered in the rust-colored dirt, matching the ground beneath me. And there is absolutely nothing I can do about any of this.
Wrong. I could Apparate back to that old repository, but what to expect I wouldn’t know. I could always Apparate to Hogsmaede. That’s an idea, going to Hogwarts; but then what good would that do me? What would Hogwarts have to do with Uncle Xander’s--my--old book?
Or how about I stop asking myself questions that I cannot answer and do something?
Now there is an idea.
So I start to walk.
And walk.
And walk.
The farther I walk in this random direction that was previously to my right, the more trees I see. They are palm trees; hardly providing me an idea that they could give me some fresh water. Wait--how in the name of Merlin do I keep forgetting I am a WITCH with a WAND? Maybe it’s the old, rustic, nature scene. It’s starting to make me feel completely helpless.
Soon I can see little tufts of grass peeking out from the rust-colored dirt. How I had the energy to have been walking all day, I can’t imagine. Lately, I notice, there are a lot of things that I just don’t know. Raven claws are supposed to know things, but I don’t think I have ever felt so… so… not-knowing.
With this grass coming up, there must be something ahead. But so far I can only see the same, never-ending horizon..
I walk and walk and walk. Wait! I stop, obeying the unspoken command I just gave myself. Is that something there? Way far out there, so that it is barely visible, I see a shadow of something against the horizon. It could be a mirage, but at the same time, I think that maybe it’s not.
It’s only fifteen minutes later that I come across a very small, rustic-looking house that is just sitting there so contentedly that I almost miss it. But I didn’t pass it by, because the moment I realized that there was not anything in the distance anymore, I notice that the thing in the distance is now only a few yards to my left.
Pathetic as the little “house” looks, it’s quite obvious that it is being occupied. An option is to walk up onto that rickety porch and knock on the flimsy, rotting, wooden door. Another option would be to suspect that the home is inhabited by Death Eaters and keep on walking.
I wasn’t going to risk missing anything. Never this whole journey did I have any idea what I was looking for, but I figured that I may as well look while I’m here.
The sky is now beginning to darken and I don’t fancy walking all by my lonesome in this strange, deserted place in the dark.
Therefore, I march commandingly to the little shelter, forcing my nervously wobbling legs up the squeaky front-porch steps. Now was my chance to get in touch with another living being, besides the ninja-person back at the Paper Repository (or so I had names it). I’m in this time period, in this foreign place, and I have no idea if the people on the other side of this door are my friend or foe, or if they are merely innocent, unsuspecting Muggles trying to get away from the buzz of civilization.
I hesitate, my fist centimetres from the wood. I look around me. There is absolutely no yard. No car, no pets or farm-animals, no nothing. It is as though someone found a completely empty space of brown Earth and plopped a little building onto it, then walked away.
Figuring I always have my wand and my Ravenclaw wits, I force my knuckles to rap on the door.
It opens in seconds. I didn’t even get a chance to gather my thoughts together about what to say.
The opener of the door is a stout little woman, probably in her early eighties, with wispy gray hair and kind blue eyes that are pale, as though the sun and barrenness of her surroundings sucked out the darkness. Which I take to be a good sign. She looks extremely kind.
She is the first to speak, “Well hello there, dear! Won’t you come in?”
I oblige, and the very first thing my eyes fall upon in the dim but tidy living room is painting. I would always have that painting embedded in my mind; it played a large part in my childhood and it was something that was always there.
So what in the name of Merlin is it doing here?!
Nevertheless, the sight of the painting which had been missing for so long comforts me slightly and I’m able to walk into the centre of the room much more confidently than I might if I did not suddenly feel like I was Home.
For it is my dear old Uncle Xander smiling pensively down at me from above the fireplace, exactly in the place the portrait always sat in my childhood home so many years ago. Except that this is not my childhood home, and I do not know the woman that let me into her house to unexpectedly find an old family relic.
Now the fun begins. Finally.
Luna Lovegood's Loony Book of Legacies by Angela_Prongs
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