The next morning, news reached Hogwarts that there was a new threat to the Wizarding World.
Outside of London, a high-up Ministry official by the name of Quentin Ormerod was found dead, his cloak ripped open and a Dark Mark scored into his chest. He was a Muggle-born.
The Daily Prophet reported that a rogue group of Death Eaters; crazed and ruthless were responsible for the attack. Voldemort's mission had been revived and the remaining extremists were out for blood.
It was like a bomb had struck the castle. Shock enveloped us. The only words spoken were lowered to hushed whispers. Students couldn't walk to their common room without looking cautiously over their shoulders at every turn. We all thought it was over. We thought we were safe. After years of suffering, we thought we deserved to be at peace.
McGonagall controlled the news quickly. She stood as unwavering as a statue at the head of the Great Hall and reminded us that we are stronger together, that Hogwarts will never be destroyed.
The news that we were at risk, once again, struck me in a different manner. I refused to believe that we were to be hiding and cowering from more dangerous and raging radicals. I knew that we would overcome it. But hearing the news, I realised how essential it was that I reconcile with my father as soon as possible.
That weekend was the first Hogsmeade trip of the term. I didn't have a permission slip so I couldn't go but it gave me the time that I needed to figure out how I was going to reunite with Daddy. I needed to do something fabulous and extravagant - it's the way Lovegoods always do things.
Before Hermione and Ginny set off, content in the knowledge that they were finally about to have some free time with their respective boyfriends, I slipped them a few sickles and asked them to buy me a Howler.
My dorm room was empty. It would be the first time I got a chance to properly insert myself into the room without feeling on-edge about the other girls. Each bed had a blank cork board pinned to the wall beside it. The emptiness unnerved me. I would have to start getting creative and devoting more of my time to the hobbies I used to love. All my paints, glittery pens and coloured gemstones were still in my trunk.
Before settling myself in front of the blank canvas on my wall, I looked out the window, saw the beautiful grass and trees spiraling below me and I realised it would be a waste to spend my Saturday indoors.
I grabbed the only empty notebook I had - a Divination copybook that I had not yet used - and poured my sketching supplies into a satchel. I set off, smiling at the portraits I passed in the hall, stumbling over the stone step out of the courtyard and marching down the sloping lawn at the back of the school. The sun was peeking its pale face out from behind patchy clouds in the sky. It was going to be a good day.
I rounded the hillside and found the herd of thestrals grazing in a secluded spot on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. They heard my approach and their arched ears perked up.
I smiled and said my hello's before sitting down, cross-legged, on the vibrant green grass. Then I opened up my notebook and unrolled my case of pencils. Casos was intrigued and he skulked over, nudging my knee with his pointed nose.
I told him what I was doing and he seemed to understand. He stepped back from me and posed so that his whole body was in view. My agile fingers picked up a pencil and began to sketch his outline onto the page.
The pencil guided me over the corrugation of his spine, the emphasis of joints in his knees, the leathery tail that lapped coolly from side to side, the thick-skinned wings that sprouted and stretched from his back. Each bone in his skeleton thrust outwards from under his sleek grey skin. I drew his features and joined them together until it resembled the thestral before me. I darkened the rims of his eyes, the end of his gaunt snout and filled in the tufty mane that grew from his neck.
I titled the page; CASOS. Underneath I created a box and filled in his herd, his habitat, his parents, his age and his favourite food (fresh pigeon.)
I was happy with what I'd drawn and I sat there in the grass, contemplating the sketch for a long time. The thestrals moved on. I watched as the last stragglers receded into the dim depths of the forest, my heart pounding with the urge to follow them.
On the brink of the forest, I gazed out. At night, the trees loomed in the darkness, standing sinister and formiddable. But in the daylight, it would be far less daunting.
That's how I found myself stepping over fallen branches and crunching through the freshly-fallen leaves, deeply breathing in the damp, earthy air.
Twigs snapped all around me. The wind rustled through the foliage and made a song within the hollow trees. Screeches and squeals - birds calling to their young - came from far ahead, beckoning me further into the murky distance.
All that lay before me was dense forest. I could only imagine the innumerable creatures lurking behind the thick trunks, burrowing into the crumbly soil, watching guard from the tree-top canopies.
Maybe it should have instilled fear but... it didn't. That moment, wandering through the forest, miles and miles of uncharted paths in front of me, made me realise how at home I felt with nature. Anything could have jumped out from the bushes and slashed me to the ground, dead. Whether it be with fangs, beaks, claws or a forked tail. But nothing attacked me.
I felt the trees breathing - inhaling and exhaling - around me. Living things, just like me. It was welcoming.
I walked for quite a while, seeing every sight there was to see and listening out for every sound that could be heard. Only a little bit further, there was a tear-drop shaped plant bearing leaves that swung in the gentle breeze, giving off a golden gleam. I would make it as far as that bush and then I would turn back in the direction of Hogwarts.
When I made it closer to the plant in question, I realised it looked an awful lot like Niffler's Fancy. The golden-hued leaves were like little coins hanging from the bush. I'd never seen one before but I remembered it from one of the stories Daddy used to tell...
I was sure he would love to see some for himself. So I plucked a branch from the root, ensuring I did no damage to the rest of the plant, and cast an durability spell on the deliacate leaves, to protect them on the journey to come, so that they could maintain their lustrous colour and healthy structure.
I turned back, my satchel firmly planted over my shoulder and the Niffler's Fancy twirling between my fingers. The trees gradually dispersed as I made it back through the rustling leaves and damp mud puddles, emerging into an opening that expanded to the back of Hagrid's Hut.
I saw the the man in question lugging timber from the other side of the forest.
"Hello, Hagrid," I called over with a wave, stepping into the soily ground. "Isn't it a beautiful day?" I looked up, finally able to see the sky again. The sun had returned to reposing behind the thickening clouds, casting a grey tone on the castle and its grounds.
"'Ello, Luna," Hagrid answered, setting down the oversized log and wiping his shining forehead with the back a weathered hand. "You weren't in the forest were ye?"
I ambled closer. "...No," I said, lying nonchalantly, "only around and about. It's so refreshing out here compared to inside the castle."
"Yeh, tha's why I became the groundskeeper... and then the Care o' Magical Creatures Professor," he said agreeably. His small eyes lit up from the centre of his face. "Is tha' Niffler's Fancy yeh've got there?"
"It is, my father's going to love it."
"Aye, yeh've got a good eye," Hagrid said, smiling appraisingly. "Some folks think tha' there is rare but, blimey, no' around 'ere."
I was enlightened by the love and commitment he clearly projected for the nature around us. But his words made me curious... If he considered Niffler's Fancy to be commonplace then what vast array of strange herbs, plants and animals were lying await in the forest?
My mind was caught up in all the possibilities.
"Luna," Hagrid interrupted, "be careful around 'ere. Yeh never know wha' strangers yeh might meet - especially these days." His tone was serious, foreboding. It was unsettling for me to realise that among the wonderous forest dwellers there could be something far more villainous lurking.
But I was careful - I was always careful. And the knowledge of rogue Death Eaters couldn't keep me from discovering the awe-inspiring depths of the forest and its inhabitants.
I thanked Hagrid and went on my way. I arrived at the castle just as the others were returning from Hogsmeade. My mind was buzzing with activity.