Earth was born backwards. It had always been Rolf’s belief. As he lay stomach down on warm, dark grey rock, the landscape before him looked primeval, ancient, even other-worldly, but he knew that it was one of the newest islands on the planet, still in its infancy, still growing.
Which was why he was so pleased to find a gaggle of Waleks already there. The large lizards had dark grey scales, much like the new rock beneath him, but the most wonderfully vibrant frills. Streaks of orange and red and yellow topped with splodges of black mimicked the thick magma forming their new home. They had been attracted by the rumbles and heat of the island’s birth, and now they floated happily on the volcanic lava, closing their eyes against the hot South Pacific sun.
Rolf sketched them in a rough notebook, wrapped in tattered brown leather. The delight was quite evident on his face: the same childish glee that he’d felt when he caught his first Plimpie, now echoed in his mounting research of this rare and mysterious creature.
He suspected they were related to salamanders in some way; they certainly shared key characteristics such as fire resistance and similarity in appearance. But the tough, thorny scales of the Waleks were quite different to the sleek, slimy, amphibious skin of the Salamander.
‘Very curious,’ he muttered to himself, observing one Walek lazily lifting a clawed, yet still webbed foot and scratching behind his frill. He wondered if they were venomous, or whether, like the lava they were enjoying, they would be scalding to touch. So little was known about them and about how they had come to be dotted around the remotest islands in the loneliest part of the world.
The lava itself was getting uncomfortably close, and Rolf wasn’t sure that his cooling charm was quite up for the job, so he clumsily pushed himself backwards on his elbows, edging away from the slowly advancing fire. Perhaps a hundred meters away, there was a dramatic pop, and liquid fire spluttered into the air, landing into the azure waves with a splash. The Waleks fluttered their dampened frills irritably.
Despite being excellent swimmers, he scribbled untidily in his notebook, they seem to be somewhat averse to water, particularly when basking on lava flows.
He stayed there for many hours, edging back when needed and occasionally drinking from a dented flask, but otherwise relishing in the solitude and raw nature of it all. The waves crashed from all directions, and as dusk drew in, the fire shone ever more brightly against the dark of the waves, the pillars of smoke only partially obscuring the brilliant stars that were beginning to appear. He looked up at the Southern Cross, his eyes drawn to Alpha Crucis in particular, and wondered how old the light he was seeing was.
Satisfied with his day’s observation, and starting to think longingly of barbequed prawns and coconut rice, he closed his notebook and balanced his pencil behind his ear before pushing his aching body up with a groan. When he turned, he came face to face with a bright pair of very large blue eyes.
He gave a startled yelp and promptly fell backwards, his notebook flying high into the air and spitting loose sketches out.
‘Oh, dear,’ the woman said. ‘You’ve dropped your drawings. Here.’
Rather than helping him up, she began to chase after the loose pages that were getting caught on the wind, grabbing them before they were lost to the fire or sea. He stared at her, still sprawled ungracefully on the ground, with his mouth agape.
‘Where did you come from?’ he asked, feeling oddly outraged. He had not heard any Apparation crack, nor had he seen a boat or broom approach the island.
‘From Britain,’ she replied cheerfully, holding the bunch of drawings out to him. They were a little singed at the corners, but still perfectly useful.
‘No, I meant… Sorry, who are you? What are you doing here?’
‘Are you going to get up?’ she asked, looking down at him expectantly.
He felt his face flush, and he scrambled up, before taking a closer look at her. She was quite striking; the blue eyes that had immediately captured his attention peered from a pale and delicate face, with waist length, wavy hair, the colour of the white sand back at the main island. However, her beauty was somewhat lost in the flamboyancy of her dress. From her bright magenta robes, silver tassels swung in the breeze, and her impractically long necklace seemed to be comprised of a mixture of seashells and bottle corks. The only sensible clothing option she had appeared to make for her journey to this remote island was her bulky walking boots, which looked rather odd beneath the thin, floaty material of her robes.
He realized he had been staring, but she did not look uncomfortable or confused. She simply stared back. He wondered if she perceived him as oddly dressed, in Muggle trousers and a brown leather jacket.
‘Er… I’m Rolf,’ he said, rubbing his stubble awkwardly.
‘Hello, Rolf,’ she replied, smiling pleasantly. ‘I was watching you for a while. What were you doing?’
He gaped at her again, unsure how he felt about the bizarre admission. ‘I’m… I’m studying the Waleks. I’m a magizoologist.’
‘Oh, is that what they are?’ She had a dreamy voice, almost like she was singing. ‘I was hoping that I’d finally found a subspecies of the Umgubular Slashkilter. A pygmy version, you know.’
‘I… I see.’ Perhaps the fumes from the lava had got to him. Maybe she was a figment of his imagination.
‘I’ve been told lots of times that they don’t exist,’ she continued, with an odd, curious expression. ‘Along with Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and… well, lots of impossible creatures. But I’ll keep searching for them.’
‘I suppose people can never comprehend new creatures until you’ve discovered them,’ he found himself saying. ‘Everything will seem impossible until it’s been found.’
A wide, joyful smile broke across her face, and she gazed at him blissfully for several moments. ‘That’s very true,’ she said, and he could see the stars reflecting in her eyes as she looked up at him.
There was a long silence, and she continued to stare at him adoringly.
‘Are… Are you a naturalist too, then?’ he asked. He was still unsure whether she was a real person or a sulphur-induced hallucination.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m Luna Lovegood.’
‘Oh!’ It was very odd, he found himself pointing at her. ‘Oh! Lovegood, yes, I’ve heard of you, yes, you confirmed the existence of the Jobberknoll! I thought it was staggering, most people simply assumed that it was an exaggeration or a myth, because of course it’s so difficult to confirm that they really do scream like that at the end of their lives, as opposed to being another type of bird, or simply a silent species. I was particularly excited to see your descriptions of the wonderful plumage, and its properties in potion making.’
She nodded, still smiling at him. ‘I’ve heard of you, too. You’ve made hundreds of discoveries.’
A warm, buzzing feeling had started in his stomach, like an excitable dancing bee. He knew at once that he wanted to be friends with this woman; he wanted to hear everything she had to say, wanted to know everything about her, wanted to create memories with her. How odd that he should find his first friend as he approached middle-age; once again, Earth had it backwards.
‘I’m sorry that I found the Waleks before you could identify them as Umgubular Slashkilters,’ he said.
‘That’s all right,’ she said kindly. ‘They’re much too small, and they’re missing the characteristic fangs. I’m sure I’ll find an Umgubular Slashkilter soon.’
‘Would you like to come with me for dinner?’ he blurted out. He instantly felt humiliated. He had to be at least ten years older than her; his dark brown hair was no longer particularly dark and was starting to go very grey. Plus, she would have sensed immediately, like most people did, that he was a little odd. He had travelled the world as a child, never settling in one place for long or forming strong attachments, and home education had never taught him the skills of knowing when to stop rambling and trying to teach people obscure facts. He prepared himself for the awkward, shocked look and the hesitant, ‘Oh, you’re very nice, but…’
‘That would be wonderful,’ she said, to his great surprise. She grasped his hand at once, looking at him expectantly. When he looked down at their clasped fingers with a mixture of shock and fear, she simply said, ‘I don’t know where to Apparate to.’
‘Oh! Yes, right. Er…’ He felt a little dumbfounded. He couldn’t remember anything beyond this little island. He was not sure where it was.
‘We don’t have to, if you don’t want to,’ she said. ‘We could stay here, under the stars. With our new friends.’ She gestured to the Waleks, who were beginning to drag themselves into the darkness of the sea.
‘What do you want to do?’ he asked her, feeling a little lost. He was rather afraid that when they left this tiny archipelago, in this remote corner of the ocean, that she would float away, vanish into normal society like a creature would the jungle.
‘I want to go on adventures,’ she replied. ‘With you.’
It was as though the stars had grown and bathed them in silver light. She had struck him to his core, and the way she was looking at him he wondered if she felt the same. He had never met anyone like this before, not man, nor woman, nor creature. He felt like he half remembered her; as though he already knew all the things he searched for but had allowed them to slip from his mind, and now he must go back and relearn who she was.
‘It can be dangerous work, and not very comfortable, there’s lots of rough camping and scrambling over treacherous terrain,’ he warned, though even as he said it he knew he was being patronizing. He knew that she was more than capable.
‘Sounds perfect,’ she said, and her face was alive with excitement.
‘I could help you find the Umgubular Slashkilter,’ he offered. ‘If you want my help, that is.’
‘I do,’ she replied. Behind her, the lava had met the sea, and it dripped like liquid gold into the water, breathing a cloud of thick white smoke into the sky. ‘But the creature I really want to find is the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.’
‘I’ll help you find it. In any way I can.’
‘It’s very rare. The most elusive creature on Earth. It could be a lifetime of searching.’
His breath seemed to catch in his throat. The lava was very close now, forming new land beside them. The starlight was catching in her hair.
‘We should get started right away then,’ he said, in barely more than a whisper. With that, she smiled, and he held her close. They twisted on the spot and vanished, leaving the fiery new island alone under the stars of the Southern Cross.