HP: Ravenclaw's Obscurus Prodigy

Wyzett had heard from Luna that several other wizarding families lived around Ottery St. Catchpole.

Molly led the way, a basket of fresh vegetables swinging from her arm. "The Diggorys live nearby—their boy is far less trouble than Fred and George," she said with a fond sigh. "The Fawcetts are close as well. They've got a daughter about your age—she should be starting Hogwarts this year too. You might run into her once term begins."

She was endlessly warm and easy to talk to; chatting with her felt like coming home, not a trace of awkwardness.

"Ever since Mrs. Lovegood's accident, the family's kept to themselves. We haven't seen much of them these past years." Molly spoke quietly, a note of sympathy in her voice. "Luna's a lovely girl, just… her mind wanders. Even Fred and George can't always keep up with her."

Having been in this world for less than two months, Wyzett mostly listened, occasionally chiming in.

He smiled. "Honestly, I find Luna's ideas inspiring."

Without Luna's protection and encouragement, he doubted he would have managed that Shield Charm against the Runespoor.

"That's wonderful to hear!" Molly glanced toward a distant stream. "Sometimes I pass by there, and these past two years, I've often seen Luna sitting by the water."

"She's always crying and fishing at the same time. The moment she spots me, she runs straight home. For a child who hasn't even started school, losing someone so close must be difficult."

Her words struck a chord in Wyzett's heart. He felt a pang of sadness. "I don't think she'll feel that way anymore."

Molly's smile grew gentler. "I'm glad to hear it."

But as he watched her kind expression, a strange restlessness crept over Wyzett. Hogwarts was a boarding school—apart from summer and Christmas holidays, students rarely left…

Two moons rose over the hillside.

One hung in the night sky, the other—a perfect silver orb—floated above the castle-shaped house. That was the work of Luna's mother, the result of some long-ago magical experiment. Since then, the darker the evening, the brighter the castle's moon glowed.

He wondered: if he used his Oculus Magicae, would he see something more?

A flicker of curiosity, and silver-blue light filled Wyzett's eyes.

Liquid magic shimmered over the castle, pooling especially around the moon, where the silver-blue glow was dazzlingly bright.

Most astonishing of all, this was Ancient Magic, aged and deep, woven into the place by time itself. If he wished, he could draw it into his own eyes.

But he didn't.

At night, Luna loved to stroll the top floor, gazing at the moon above the castle. He wouldn't disturb that.

A sudden thought—had Luna's mother studied Ancient Magic too?

"This is my first time here at night—it's beautiful," Molly murmured, handing the basket to Wyzett. "I'll leave you here. These are all from our garden—give my regards to Mr. Lovegood and Luna, will you?"

His eyes faded back to normal. "Of course, Aunt Molly. I really don't know how to thank you."

Molly's figure melted into the twilight. A fluffy owl swooped down, hooting joyfully as it landed in Wyzett's arms.

"Hoo-hoo-hoo!" The birdcage atop the cauldron swayed, and the bronze-feathered owl inside called out excitedly, as if saying hello.

Light footsteps approached. Luna stood quietly, a soft smile on her lips.

"Diagon Alley was amazing, wasn't it?" Her voice was as dreamy as ever. "Did the Wrackspurts bother you? If they did, you can always write to me at school!"

"Hoo!" The owl, Diana, puffed out her chest and hooted in agreement.

"Yes, I can write," Wyzett replied, the tension in his chest easing as he shook his head with a smile.

Luna had a way of dissolving his worries, as if by magic.

Letting go of his troubles, Wyzett pointed to the restless owl. "What do you think we should call this little one?"

"Such a spirited creature," Luna mused. "How about Sol? The sun and the moon—they're always taking turns in the sky."

"That's a wonderful name."

Together, they walked across the soft grass, heading for the castle under the twin moons.

Before he knew it, August was nearly over. Tomorrow, Hogwarts would open its doors for a new term.

A month wasn't long, but Wyzett made the most of it—preparing for school and putting his room in order.

Luna had been a huge help—or rather, she'd handled nearly all the decorating herself.

She replaced the bedding and wallpaper, then strung up Dirigible Plums as bed hangings. These little radish-like magical plants were said to help you accept the unusual, just by being around them.

Dirigible Plums were everywhere in the castle—Luna even wore them as earrings.

Xenophilius, editor of The Quibbler, worked in a room festooned with Dirigible Plums, claiming it fueled his inspiration.

The castle's second floor was especially lively—it was printing week for The Quibbler. The magical printing press clattered from dawn till dusk, its wooden frame and iron fittings reminiscent of an Industrial Revolution spinning machine. With magical upgrades, it folded, bound, and trimmed magazines all in one.

Xenophilius's job was simple: design the draft, feed it into the press, and watch as finished magazines emerged. The only downside was the speed—after days of work, they'd produced fewer than a hundred copies.

During this time, Wyzett painstakingly recopied all his textbooks. As the saying goes, the faintest ink is better than the best memory. Writing everything out gave him a solid grasp of the coming year's lessons.

All the illustrations were handled by Luna. She had a gift for drawing—Wyzett only needed to describe something, and she'd bring it to life on the page.

She was especially talented at magical creatures, each one rendered with uncanny accuracy.

"Mum and I read Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them together," Luna explained, her face aglow. "I've seen every creature in the book—except for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

"The Crumple-Horned Snorkack?" Wyzett echoed. "Next time I'm at Flourish and Blotts, I'll look for a book about them."

"You probably won't find one," Luna said, a bit wistful. "They're incredibly rare."

"Dad says they live in Sweden. Someday I'll go find them myself—and draw them, too."

Sweden. Wyzett made a mental note.

On the last night of August, Xenophilius didn't cook—instead, he ordered a feast from a nearby Muggle restaurant and set the table for a proper celebration.

"Don't forget to write home," was his only advice. "Tell us about school—anything at all. You know what I mean."

"I do," Wyzett replied, smiling as he tossed two steaks out the window. "Let's hope they're up to the task."

Two owls shot through the air like fluffy bolts of lightning, snatching the steaks mid-flight and hooting their approval.

On the morning of the first day, Wyzett checked and rechecked his Hogwarts letter, going over the contents of his trunk again and again until he was finally satisfied. He hauled his trunk downstairs.

Luna was waiting in the living room, the sunlight gilding her pale hair with a golden sheen.

She was carefully grooming Sol's feathers, making sure each one was perfectly in place.

"I'm heading off to school," Wyzett said softly.

"Mm," Luna replied, her voice a little distant. "Goodbyes are always a bit sad, but every parting is just getting ready for the next reunion."

She handed him a bright green Gurdyroot. "If you run into trouble or feel lost, this will bring you luck. Inside… is the scent of home."

She was right—Gurdyroots looked and tasted like onions, and only the Lovegoods made them into tea.

"It really is the taste of home," Wyzett agreed, smiling. The gift was so very Luna.

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