Chapter Text
The half-moon rose high, high above shingled rooftops casting a silver-tinted glow on everything it could reach. A rat could be seen scampering between brick, stucco, and wooden houses in an effort to get away from gleaming white teeth and claws.
Gnarled old hands set brazen binoculars on a wooden windowsill.
“It is as I feared, the time that was foretold is about to come to pass.” Turning away from the window, “Old Jim” made his way to the dark kitchens where he set up a pot of water and turned the knobs on the stove. The moon shone happily through a window behind the sink.
The elder then moved to turn on the radio near the sink.
Only, when he turned on the radio and adjusted the frequency, no noise could be heard besides static.
“I can feel your confusion from here, Lost One. It most definitely works.”
The shadows in the corner of the room grew a few shades brighter.
“It really is the most ingenious of ideas. My young charge invented it. You see, not all of us are gifted with the Sight, not like him at least. There are a few of us who can Hear but not See, or See but not Hear. I suppose I fall into the latter category, and I must use this. Please, Lost One, Speak.”
The radio static shuffled, growing louder and quieter as if something was fiddling with it.
“Having a bit of trouble, are we? Or perhaps you’re just curious? Ah, I see I was right about that. Never have seen a communication device like this before, eh?”
Before long, the spirit figured out the nicks and nacks of the device.
“If you don’t mind me asking, why is it that you are here, Lost One? Surely, you would go to the one who can See and Hear, unless…?”
There was a few moments of silence. One could say, ‘Radio silence’.
Then…
“...I followed the Nargles.”
Ashitanaka blinked momentarily before smiling.
“It has been a long, long time since I’ve heard someone mention the infamous Nargles. Tell me, Dear One, do the Blibbering Humdingers still Bounce?”
~
When the second Wizarding War began, truly began, Luna Lovegood had been kidnapped in order to subjugate her father into writing propaganda. She, and a few others such as Mr. Ollivander and a goblin named Griphook, were kept in a grimy dungeon area underneath Malfoy Manor.
Usually wixen were unable to catch Muggle viruses, but due to the long term exposure of Dark magic, Luna’s Light magic core grew weak and she found herself coughing more often than not.
Imprisoned, malnourished, tortured, Luna Lovegood passed away.
However, just before she closed her eyes the final time, she heard a faint tinkle.
She hadn’t heard that particular tinkle in a long time, and it brought a smile to her face.
She was not alone.
Would not be alone, not now, not ever.
The Nargles were her friends, more than anyone else ever was. They told her things, led her places, gave her Gifts. Where they go, she would follow.
And now, they led her intangible soul to a small village just a few hours outside London.
Death must be having a field day.