Matryoshka Vignettes
And Now For Something Completely Different
By Jeconais
Author Notes:
Luna Lovegood - Wed, July 2nd 1998, 9:01am
The problem with ink was that it didn’t taste very nice.
And the ink that did taste nice wasn’t dark enough.
And the quills that you had to use with the ink weren’t bendy enough.
How you were supposed to write intelligently about Snorkacks when your quill didn’t bend?
Luna sighed to herself and wrote another line. She just couldn’t seem to find herself today.
She’d looked behind the sofa, because Muggles were always finding things there. She’d tried surprising herself, but she always seemed to guess when she was coming, so it wasn’t very surprising.
The problem was that Harry Potter was alive. Very alive. And she didn’t know what to do about it.
Normally it would have been so clear — the public had a right to know, and even if he was now forming a colony for single mother mermaids on a beautiful island, they should know just how wonderful he was.
There were not many people willing to help the poor mermaids.
She paused, and made a note on a piece of parchment to the left of her story. "Fund raiser for Mermaids? Ideas: Tin donations — everyone could send in a tin, and they’d convert them to something valuable."
That was a good idea on its own, never mind the Mermaids. She made another note. "Discover secret of Alchemy. Speak to Bob, he might know."
She turned back to her story. And the perplexing puzzle producing permanent problem pontificating. Alliteration always aided an artistic attainment.
She’d discovered he was alive when trying to track down what had happened to the Malfoy family. One day they had been rich; the next day Lucius had found that no one wanted to be a sycophant to a pauper.
So she’d gathered her trusty quill — the note-taking one that did taste nice, even with green ink, and green ink normally made her sick — and followed some rampaging pixies.
The pixies, however, didn’t seem to want to do anything but frolic, and certainly weren’t explaining what was going on with the Malfoys.
She’d been very peeved with them, and had written a stinging editorial, pointing out how duplicitous they were.
And then Daddy had rejected it, pointing out that duplicitous had four syllables, and all good negative words had an odd number of syllables. He was right, and by the time she’d thought of one, it had been too much later, and then she’d lost interest, when she stumbled across some paperwork.
After she’d picked herself up, and refrained from declaring war on the paper for its egregious treatment of her, she’d read it.
She was pretty sure that reading paper was good for it, and had been tempted not to read it and let it suffer instead. After all, if you were a perfectly good piece of paper that someone had taken the time to write on, then surely all you wanted from life was for someone to read you.
She looked around guiltily for a second. She’d taken some time to taunt the paper first, pretending to read it, and then looking away at the last minute, and Daddy would be very disappointed with her for doing it.
The paper had been a bill of acquisition, from the Goblins to a third party, passing on all of the Malfoy debts they held.
Now, if the paper wasn’t being unscrupulous, and she’d questioned it closely on the matter, and it had retained its cool, and hadn’t cracked under the pressure, even when she held it near a candle, this meant that there was someone who a) hated the Malfoys, b) had a lot of money and c) liked bananas.
So, she had then been on a trail, and she had followed it. It was really nice, leading through a leafy forest, over a bubbling stream, and through a field. Unfortunately, the only place that trail was getting her was Kendal, and while she liked it, it wasn’t helping her find out who had been hunting the Malfoys.
Her next step had been to go and see the Goblins. This seemed like a logical thing to do, and she hoped Daddy never found out. Because if there was one thing that he had taught her, and there wasn’t — he’d taught her many things — it was that logic was the tool of Beelzebob. And Beelzebob was the leader of the cult that the Daily Prophet worshipped, and he was powerful.
Very powerful.
How else could you explain the reason that the Prophet sold more papers than they did? Originally, they had thought it was something to do with the news, but they had quickly decided that sort of thinking was just the product of too much prune juice, and that they should cut back on it immediately.
So they had, and their supplier had been very grumpy. He’d been importing it especially for them. They’d felt sorry for him, and told him that Giants liked it just as much, and he was now raking in a fortune selling it by the barrelful to them.
It was funny how so many people who were important in life had Bob in their name.
Maybe it was because it was the same backward and forward. Symmetry was very important in the world.
Perhaps she should change her name, and that would allow her to become even more successful.
Luna Nul?
Now that was a good name, it had all the familiarity of the same name her mother had given her, and none on the lopsidedness of the non-Nul name she had now endured for eighteen years.
She’d have to have a word with Daddy later to let him know how disappointed she was with him for making her name all lopsided.
Maybe he could change his name as well.
She shook herself. No good reporter was ever distracted. Luckily, she was a brilliant reporter, and they were allowed to get distracted all they liked, as long as the copy was filed on top.
And the filing cabinet was right next to her desk, and she didn’t even have to stand up to get it.
She did, however, have to write the story.
She made another note. "Create spell to write story through mind-reading. Hermione might help?"
The Goblins hadn’t been very respectful, and that had made her sad, so she’d passed out.
Not really of course, but while they had been fretting about what to do about the unconscious witch in their office, finally deciding to get help, they’d left her alone for a bit, and she’d jumped up quickly and read the book on the Goblin’s desk.
It was a combined account that had been doing all the buying of the debts. A Greengrass/Potter account — and a note under it said, "Change to Potter/Potter account."
She’d cast a spell on herself to knock herself out properly, and fallen to the floor, wondering just why the Narbuckles no longer talked to her like they did when she was younger.
Once she’d known he was alive, and not a ghost as she had first presumed, it hadn’t been hard to track them down. As everyone knew, the best place to find something that wasn’t you was either behind the couch, or Bora Bora.
Having checked the couch, and been disappointed that they weren’t there, she’d gone to Bora Bora, which had a very balanced name.
She’d manage to ferret out the fact that they had bought an island together, simply by sending her pet ferret into the local Ministry, and telling him to find anything of interest.
And boy had he!
She had been right all along!
There really was a conspiracy to keep printing ink tasting bad.
Oh, and she’d also found out about the island.
And so here she was, wondering if she’d find herself hiding at the back of her desk.
Her desk thoroughly searched, she admitted that she wasn’t there either, and she wasn’t likely to return till she fixed the problem.
As far as she could see, she had two issues, which was good, because three would have been odd.
The first: Did she report that Harry was alive and well, when he obviously wanted some privacy.
And second: If she could find him, maybe someone else could as well. And that would be bad. It would take them longer, as they weren’t a brilliant journalist like she was.
Harry had saved her life, not just by killing Mudblood Tom (even though technically he wasn’t), but by making friends with her, and then, as Head Boy, stopping people from hiding her favourite quill.
She’d thought about doing something to thank him, and in the end she had.
Like most people, she had noticed he disappeared at times, so she’d tried to follow him, but it had seemed like Hogwarts was helping him hide.
She’d had a very firm talk with Hogwarts, who had apologised, and told her she was just trying to keep Harry’s secret. She’d promised to keep it as well, and had seen him with Daphne.
She blushed.
Hard.
She hadn’t expected to see them doing that. But it did look interesting. And after they had finished touching their feet while doing some homework, they had had sex.
And that had been interesting too.
Daphne’s breasts were bigger than hers, and Harry seemed to like them a lot.
She’d been concerned when she had seen Harry naked; it didn’t seem like he would fit, and for a second, she had thought that he was really hurting her, but then she’d realised Daphne was enjoying it.
The whole thing seemed to be a lot of fun, and while tiring, they had both seemed to glow afterward, and had seemed close.
She’d decided to try it herself as well, with Ernie, but he had obviously been cursed at as a child, because his was a lot smaller, and when she’d mentioned that, he’d been upset and then it didn’t work.
He seemed even more upset when she’d measured him with her quill, and he’d only come halfway up.
Thinking that it was a one off, she’d decided to conduct an experiment. It was amazing how happy men were to show her their bits when she asked. And they all seemed really hung up about her boobs when she displayed them. She didn’t see the fascination really, they weren’t as big as Daphne’s, and were part of her, just like her elbow.
And her elbow was really sexy.
She’d even tried Draco Malfoy, more out of pity than anything else, and he’d really objected when she had told him that he was the smallest in the school.
He’d even tried to make her put his thing in her mouth. So she did, and then bit as hard as she could. He hadn’t seemed to like that, but if he hadn’t wanted her to do it, why had he put it there? That’s what teeth were for, weren’t they?
She had casually mentioned it later to Susan, who had been shocked and told her that it was wrong. That Draco shouldn’t have forced her. But when she’d told Susan what she had done, Susan had laughed, and congratulated her, so everything was fine again.
It was another week before she realised what Draco had been demanding and what she was supposed to have done, and that Draco shouldn’t have tried to force her. Especially as she might have done it anyway if he’d asked nicely.
And she’d been really good and not spied on Harry again. Keeping the secret and not spying were definitely a way of paying him back for rescuing her quill.
She’d also dropped a potion into Draco’s drink that would stop him from getting excited for the foreseeable future.
She stood suddenly, and dove over the filing cabinet. And there she was! Hiding!
Having found herself, and managed to surprise herself at the same time, she knew what she was going to do. There was only one way she could tell the people the truth AND protect his privacy.
She picked up her quill, sighed disgustedly at the ink, and started to write.
Harry Potter: Alive! And now playing Vegas!
Exclusive by Luna Nul.
Harry James Potter was today seen alive in Las Vegas, Nevada, America, Earth.
Potter, the famously well endowed wizard, was recently seen performing on stage in front of thousands of Muggles.
Potter, 18, dressed in a Muggle tuxedo, wowed the watching crows with his lion taming skills, before making an elephant vanish into thin air.
The Muggles seemed to be impressed, yelling and cheering like Quidditch fans.
When confronted, Potter — defeater of Mudblood Tom — said, "What the hell are you talking about?" Proof positive that we had our man!
She smiled happily. This was perfect.
No one would ever believe it, and she would have told the truth and kept his secret again.
After all, who truly believed that elephants existed?
AN: No, "crows" is NOT a typo.