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Author: Ladybug Story: Scrolls of Parchment Rating: Everyone Setting: Pre-DH Status: Completed Reviews: 12 Words: 10,111
March She knew it was in her bag somewhere. Goodness, she’d only left her dormitory a few minutes ago, and was certain she’d remembered to pack it. If there was one thing she wasn’t, it was forgetful. Luna rummaged around a bit more. ‘Aha,’ she said, pulling out the bag of cat litter. She was standing in a corner of the library early on Monday morning, ready to perform her weekly service of keeping the Bibliomites at bay. She would have preferred to do it on Sunday nights, it would certainly have been more convenient, but unfortunately Bibliomites – those tiny but ferocious gnats that lived off the ink in books and made words like CRUCIATUS turn into CHRISTMAS – slept on Sunday nights, so her treatment would not have been effective. As usual, the library was very quiet. There were never many people here this early on a Monday morning, although sometimes there were a few fellow Ravenclaws or, at this time of year – as students began to think of the approaching exams – there might be some panicking fifth and seventh years. Luna thought they were wasting their time if they were trying to cram all that learning into the last few months of the year. There was so much to learn, much more than the professors ever taught them in class, that she couldn’t help but tackle her schoolwork enthusiastically from the very first day of term, week by week, throughout the school year, whether it was raining or not. She moved along the rows of shelving, methodically depositing a teaspoon of cat litter at regular intervals. ‘Take that, you nasty little cretins,’ she whispered. No doubt Madam Pince was grateful that Luna took the time to do this necessary task, though she had never actually spoken of it. And it was obviously working because Luna hadn’t yet come across signs of a Bibliomite infestation. Reaching the end of the last row, she saw the Headmaster sitting on a sofa in the reading corner. She often saw him here, at this time of the week. Perhaps the elves hoovered his office on Monday mornings. He had a heavy book on his lap but at this moment was using it as a lap desk with which he was scratching out a message on some parchment with a simple white quill. ‘Hello, Professor Dumbledore.’ ‘Good morning, Miss Lovegood,’ he answered cheerfully, setting down his quill and greeting her with a smile. ‘It’s nice to see you sitting here; this was my mother’s favourite corner.’ ‘Yes, so it was,’ he inclined his head in acknowledgement. She waved her arm loosely through the air, slowly turning full-circle on the spot. ‘I can feel her trace here.’ She moved closer and put her bag on the floor. ‘I think she belonged here, in this seat. It’s good to have some place to belong. You belong here, too, Professor.’ ‘Thank you.’ He looked pleased and gestured to his side, inviting her to join him on the sofa. ‘Please don’t stop working on my account,’ Luna said, ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you.’ She sat down as Dumbledore resumed writing. Glancing sideways, Luna noticed that Dumbledore was writing on his parchment in reverse – mirror image. Of course, she realised, it was because he was writing with his left hand, his right having died during the summer holiday. Perhaps he’d been attacked by Gulping Plimpies, though why they would have attacked his hand before his feet she wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d been developing a new underwater-writing charm and only his hand had been submerged. She looked with curiosity at the blackened hand that was holding the parchment in place, and then noticed again the reversed writing. ‘Does your correspondent have mirror vision?’ she asked, indicating the parchment. ‘No, not that I am aware.’ He finished writing and tucked the quill behind his ear for safekeeping. He tapped his wand to the parchment and the words re-formed themselves into their proper order. He tapped again and it rolled itself into a scroll and sealed itself with a wax impression of a phoenix. Handing it to her, he said, ‘Miss Lovegood, I wonder if you would do me the kindness of delivering this note to Harry Potter.’ ‘Why, certainly, Professor. Does he need it before the third of April?’ ‘Ah,’ he gave a little cough and cleared his throat, ‘yes – I would be grateful if you’d take it to him straight away, before breakfast is over. You may find him in the hospital wing if he is not already in the Great Hall.’ She placed the scroll in her bag, shoving it safely to the bottom so it wouldn’t see the painting of the Great Fire of London when she passed it on her errand. Her parchment always seemed to quiver fearfully in the vicinity of that particular painting. ‘I enjoyed your commentary last Saturday, Miss Lovegood, it was most entertaining,’ Dumbledore said jovially. ‘Really?’ she asked, emerging from her bag holding the Gurdyroot – she wondered whether it would be rude to offer it to the Headmaster. ‘Everyone else said it was dreadful. Even Professor McGonagall. I don’t think she’ll let me do it again. She said I should have announced the score more often. But why waste perfectly good commentary time telling people what they already know? I mean, the score’s up on the scoreboard, people can see for themselves, can’t they.’ ‘That may seem so,’ Dumbledore said thoughtfully, ‘but I have often found that people do not notice what is before their very eyes.’ ‘Oh,’ she brushed her hair back from her face and thought for a moment about Dumbledore’s comment. ‘So, I suppose it was my job to remind them, or help them see it?’ ‘Yes, that was part of your job. But commentary is also an opportunity to offer analysis and an alternative point of view,’ he said, looking at her kindly. ‘How do you think you performed in that task?’ ‘I thought I did rather well,’ she said vaguely, ‘but everyone else thought it was terrible.’ She turned the green vegetable over and over in her hands. Maybe it was too late to offer it to him; his hand was already dead, after all. ‘Sometimes,’ Dumbledore said, placing the heavy book on a sidetable and turning back to her, ‘people’s biases get in the way of seeing what is really going on. The Hufflepuff supporters, for example, may have had their eyes on their own players and missed Harry’s disastrous accident, had you not drawn their attention to the unorthodox tactics of Mr McLaggan. As regrettable as it was, I imagine most of the spectators were spellbound by the dramatic turn of events.’ He looked at her with a distinct twinkle in his eyes. ‘Without your help they would have been deprived of the opportunity to eagerly discuss it for weeks to come. We would not wish that upon them, would we?’ She turned wide, unbelieving eyes to the Headmaster and struggled not to laugh. ‘That’s so funny!’ she gasped before letting laughter overtake her. She clutched a hand to her stomach, trying to contain herself – she must remember she was in the library. ‘People talk about the silliest things,’ she sputtered. Dumbledore chuckled softly with her as she took a few deep breaths to calm herself and whispered an inaudible ‘sorry’ to the library for causing a disturbance. It was such a relief talking to someone who understood her. There weren’t many at Hogwarts who did. In fact, come to think of it, Professor Dumbledore was probably the only one. She supposed it was because they were related, she and Dumbledore. There was an unspoken acknowledgement of their familial ties – she had felt it the moment she first entered the Great Hall and his twinkling eyes had met hers. ‘Do not overly worry yourself about the opinions of others, Miss Lovegood. I think you’ll find that most people do not like to hear the bare truth, particularly about themselves. They will do almost anything to close their ears to it.’ Oh, so he was talking about the Wizengamot and the Ministry. She sobered. He was just like her, in a way, telling people things they didn’t want to hear. People tried to ignore him they way they tried to ignore her. Yes, it was a great relief, being understood. ‘That’s why people become Death Eaters, you know,’ she said, looking idly round the library and seeing Madam Pince sort returned books with her wand. ‘Oh?’ he said with interest. She turned to look at him. ‘The Dark Lord tells them what they want to hear and shows them what they want to see. But it’s not the truth.’ ‘No, it is not.’ ‘They’re deluded. They’re looking for a place to belong and they think he’ll make them special. He won’t, though.’ ‘No, you’re quite right.’ said Dumbledore. ‘He won’t,’ ‘They won’t be special, because they’ll all have to think the same and act the same. They won’t be able to have their own opinions or live how they want to. His plan is to insert television antennae into their brains so he can control them more effectively with his remote control. The Quibbler’s about to run an exposé: hopefully it will discourage others from joining him. It’s interesting how he’s using Muggle technology when he hates Muggles so much, isn’t it?’ ‘Hmm.’ ‘It’s not good for everyone to be the same, is it, Professor? It means there’s no place for people like you and me and Zacharias Smith.’ ‘Well then, we are fortunate to have such a place as Hogwarts where people like you and me and Zacharias Smith may happily belong,’ he said. She smoothed her skirt across her lap, considering this carefully. She didn’t take pleasure in contradicting the Headmaster, but it was important to get at the truth nonetheless. ‘I’m not sure I belong, Professor,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘On the contrary, Miss Lovegood, you not only belong, you are indispensable. You have a unique gift, one that is sorely needed in a community such as Hogwarts and at times such as these. It does not do people much good to hear only what they wish to hear. They are far better served by being exposed to all kinds of opinions and insights. The more we listen to one another, the wiser we become.’ ‘All sunshine makes a desert,’ she said, nodding. ‘Precisely,’ he agreed with a smile. ‘Seeing and hearing, Miss Lovegood. Not many people are up to the task. Even if every other person thinks what you say is dreadful, do not let that stop you from saying it, if you think it important. We need people such as you to help us see and hear that which we would rather ignore. ‘So you see, I am convinced that you are a very important member of this school, Miss Lovegood. Hogwarts is a better, richer place because you are here.’ She blushed slightly at that. She wasn’t used to people saying nice things to her face, or even behind her back, she reflected. ‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you to say.’ ‘And, what is more, it is true,’ said her great-great-great-grand uncle, or was he her seventeenth cousin, forty-twice removed? ‘Never give up –’ he went on, ‘you may find that support comes from unexpected places. ‘But now,’ he stood and tucked his beard more securely into his belt before smiling down his crooked nose at her, ‘let us push off from the shore, step into the coracle of this new day and see where the currents will carry us. Good day, Miss Lovegood, it has been a pleasure.’ She watched him leave before realising she hadn’t offered him the Gurdyroot. Never mind, someone was bound to need it sometime. Shoving it back into her bag, she left the library to find Harry and passed a muttering Filch on the way. Every Monday morning Filch entered the library, dustpan and brush in hand, grumbling to himself about the mysterious mess that appeared on the shelves each week without fail. As he made his way down the stacks on this particular day an intriguing thought occurred to him. What if Irma conjured the mess on purpose, just to make sure he dropped by the library at the start of each week? He finished the job with considerably less grumbling and a somewhat lighter step.
A/Ns: This missing moment is brought to you by p.397 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (UK edition). ‘I went to the hospital wing to find you,’ said Luna, rummaging in her bag. ‘But they said you'd left...’ She thrust what appeared to be a green onion, a large spotted toadstool, and a considerable amount of what looked like cat litter into Ron's hands, finally pulling out a rather grubby scroll of parchment that she handed to Harry. ‘. . . I've been told to give you this.’ I thought it best not to even touch the magic mushroom! Yes, I know, this is full of Luna clichés – imaginary creatures, ridiculous Quibbler articles and being related to Dumbledore, just to name a few. I hope you’ll not hold it against Luna; it’s not her fault, it’s mine. Disgruntled thanks to my pre-beta Gypsy who thinks I am as dotty as Luna (hmph *frowns in your general direction*), and heartfelt thanks and praise to my beta Tante who has wonderful ideas and is very skilful in an all-round writing kind of way! Luna thanks you both, too!
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