Luna(tic) (Marauders Era)

2. A Question of Control

"So she can go, right?" Margaret Everleigh asked as soon as she heard the back door shut behind her daughter.

Albus Dumbledore blinked at her from across the coffee table as he returned his wand to his pocket. "Yes, of course she can come to Hogwarts," he assured her, settling himself back down in the threadbare armchair she'd offered him earlier. "To be perfectly frank with you, there was little doubt of that, at least on my part."

Margaret frowned, suspicion tickling the edge of her mind. "Then why did you come?" she asked carefully. She'd been under the impression it was to make sure Luna truly was magical. And she couldn't blame the school for wanting to make sure. Luna didn't use her magic often. Really, even Margaret had occasionally had cause to wonder if it was still there. There had been incidents a long time ago, but nothing since. She'd put it down to a shy nature at first, but the longer she'd gone without any further signs of magic, the more Margaret had started to wonder if something had gone wrong.

"It is procedure to check," Dumbledore assured her, lacing his fingers in his lap as he regarded her placidly through those half moon spectacles. "Normally, a staff member or even a Ministry official would come to verify," he explained, apparently electing to ignore Margarets increasingly concerned expression. "But in this case, I volunteered to come instead. Your concerns regarding your daughter's place at my school, I admit, piqued my interest."

Margaret's eyes were narrowed now, her expression guarded. She didn't like the sound of that. Not at all. "How so?" she asked, fighting to keep her tone level.

"Most parents," Dumbledore informed her calmly, apparently either not noticing or else choosing to ignore the sharpness in the gaze Margaret levelled at him, "when their children show little sign of magic before age eleven, are more concerned about whether or not their child is magical at all. That is, they wonder if their child might be a squib." He paused here and contemplated Margaret, his blue eyes piercing enough that she rather felt like he might be looking right into her mind.

"Forgive me if this is rather forward, Mrs Everleigh, but you seemed to have no doubt that your daughter was magical, but rather that something might have prevented her magic from properly developing."

Margaret's frown deepened but she didn't reply. The Headmaster wasn't wrong, of course. Margaret knew Luna was magical. There had been incidents when she'd been younger that couldn't possibly have been explained by anything other than magic. But then those incidents had stopped. And there were enough other odd things about Luna that Margaret had started to wonder if something might have gone wrong with her daughter's magic too. If it might be small or sporadic or... or strange.

Of course, she'd never heard of anything like it happening to a wizarding child, but then, she also hadn't heard of anything like Sam happening to a wizarding child. And despite the fact that neither Margaret nor anyone else could see the boy, Luna insisted he was there. Over the years, Margaret had had to come to terms with Sam, and recently she'd started wondering if she might also have to come to terms with this new strangeness or if it was just Luna being careful. Even around her mother.

Because of course, Margaret wasn't stupid. She knew the muggle children teased Luna endlessly and cruelly for it. Knew Luna was oh so careful about Sam. Knew she wished she didn't have to be. And Merlin, Margaret wished it too. Which was why however much it hurt every time Luna said his name or mentioned his presence, Margaret made sure she never showed it. Because Luna needed at least one person in the world who would never call her crazy. Who would talk about Sam like he was real. Because to Luna he was.

She had thought that Luna being open about Sam to her meant that Luna was open about everything to her. But she couldn't deny that it was possible that Luna was keeping her magic hidden. That it really was normal and she just never let it out. Possible. But Margaret couldn't deny that she had her doubts.