Harry Potter: The Book of Sin

The twilight sun had a dreamy beauty to it, filtering through the gaps in the clouds and bathing the world in a lazy warmth. In its fading light, the maze of gravestones cast long, narrow shadows, creating an atmosphere that felt strangely surreal.

Not far from where Maca was standing, beneath a lush white poplar tree, a man with messy white hair—like a puff of cotton candy—stood hand in hand with a little girl. There was no mistaking it: a father and daughter, visiting a grave.

What had caught Maca's attention earlier was the back of a girl with pale golden hair cascading all the way down her back. She couldn't be more than ten years old.

Of course, Maca wasn't a creep—he wasn't interested in little girls, even if he was about that age himself now. It was simply the way her long hair glowed in the fading sunlight, haloed with a soft shimmer, that made the scene hard to ignore.

He stared a little longer than he meant to, but that was all. With a pause, he shifted his gaze away, grabbed his suitcase, and headed toward town.

Just as he was stepping out of the cemetery's boundary, he faintly heard the man's voice.

"Luna, let's head home. It's getting late."

Luna?

Long, pale-golden hair?

A few names, long-buried in the back of Maca's mind, stirred faintly like whispers through dust.

No way. It couldn't be that much of a coincidence, could it?

Maca halted mid-step, hesitated, then darted into the trees beside the path—he wanted to loop back and confirm.

By the time he snuck back into the graveyard, the pair was gone. He hurried to where they'd been standing and glanced down at the gravestone.

"Pandora Lovegood… Lovegood. That's it."

He mulled it over for a second, then took off running.

"It's clearly smarter to ask a current wizard for directions than stumble around clueless—maybe I can even use their Floo fireplace! What was that stuff called again? Fly... Fly Powder?"

"Excuse me—Mr. Lovegood, wait! Just a moment!"

Luckily, the father and daughter hadn't moved fast—or better yet, hadn't used magic to vanish—so Maca was able to catch up.

"Hmm? And you are?"

Xenophilius Lovegood turned around, eyeing the breathless boy jogging up to them.

"Ah, yes." Maca arrived before them, catching his breath and trying to organize his thoughts. Then, he spoke quickly:

"I'm a big fan of the magazine you edit. You know, I really love the articles—they've added color to my life!"

In truth, Maca couldn't even remember the name of the magazine. But that didn't stop him from using it as a way to strike up conversation.

"Yes—uh, the Quibbler! That's it. I've always believed in the existence of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, even though I haven't had any luck finding them yet."

He scrambled through hazy memories, pulling together any scraps he could to use as conversational bait with the unusual father-daughter duo before him.

"Oh, a fellow believer."

Luna's voice was airy, almost dreamy, yet her silver-gray eyes were fixed intently on Maca's face. She was clearly intrigued.

"Haha, thank you for your support, my dear young reader,"

Xenophilius grinned, genuinely pleased.

Seeing that, Maca leaned into his usual talent—rolling with the moment. Beaming enthusiastically, he played the part of an excited fanboy, chatting away with Xenophilius as if he really had been reading The Quibbler all along.

Believe me, it wasn't hard. As long as he kept the conversation going about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and let Xenophilius do most of the talking, all he had to do was nod now and then—and the conversation practically sustained itself.

---

Three figures—one tall, two small—gradually disappeared into the distance along the road, their laughter echoing behind them. It was clear the introduction had gone very well.

Unsurprisingly, Maca was soon invited to stay at the Lovegoods' home for a while. After all, he had "accidentally" let slip that he would be starting at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on September 1st.

If all went as expected, Luna would be enrolling the following year, which would naturally make Maca her senior.

"Looks like you'll have to take care of your junior next year, Mr. McLean," Xenophilius said with a grin, ruffling Luna's hair. "Come on! I think tonight's dinner should be a little more festive—we're welcoming your senior in advance!"

To be honest, the dinner—while labeled "festive"—clearly revealed the Lovegoods weren't well-off. But that didn't matter much to Maca; he wasn't one for luxury. Hunger and poverty had been a norm in his childhood.

Besides, many of the dishes on the small, crowded table were things Maca had never seen before. Some looked rather strange, but their taste was surprisingly delightful, and the portions were generous.

One dish he particularly liked was a soup made from a creature called the "Bigmouth Polka Fish." The soup was exceptionally flavorful. Its meat, however, left something to be desired—likely too tough from too much activity—and carried a rather odd earthy aftertaste.

"Had enough, my boy?" Xenophilius asked when he saw Maca put down his spoon. "How about a cup of Gurdyroot tea?"

"Oh, no thank you," Maca said sheepishly, patting his round belly. "I think I overate. Would you mind if I went out for a short walk?"

"Of course not. You could ask Luna to show you around a bit—this place is safe, and the air is wonderful," Xenophilius replied with a shrug. "I should get back to preparing for work tomorrow. You know, articles and such."

"Luna, may I invite you for a walk?" Maca turned to the girl who was currently lost in thought.

"Hm?" Luna turned her head. "Oh, sure. We can keep talking about magical creatures…"

"Yes, unicorns, for instance—they're even famous among Muggles," Maca chuckled as he stood and reached for his coat, then opened the door not far behind him.

Everything here was quite nice, except perhaps the house being a bit cramped. It reminded him of the attic room he'd lived in for three years.

The night air was crisp and familiar, far fresher than in Knockturn Alley back in Topoint. After all, the Lovegoods lived on a small hillside.

The wide-open view and star-filled sky made Maca's eyes glaze over slightly. Maybe Luna's whimsical nature had something to do with this peaceful environment.

"It's beautiful here—it feels like freedom," he said.

There were no obstacles in sight, nothing to hold him back. Maca walked aimlessly, eyes on the infinite night sky.

Luna, who had been rambling about mistletoe and nargles, fell silent upon hearing that. She looked at Maca, then turned her gaze to the stars above.

"Do you smell it, Luna? That scent of freedom?" Maca asked lightly.

"What?" Luna blinked, then murmured softly, "Oh… yes. My mother used to say that too."

"She loved it here. On her days off, she would take me out to look at the stars," Luna added with a nod. Her face betrayed no emotion, but some things are too hard to let go of.

Maca nodded back. He vaguely remembered hearing that Luna's mother had passed not long ago. That brought to mind his own mother—both in this life and the one before.

"They say the stars' positions and paths can be used for prophecy. Centaurs are apparently quite good at that."

For Maca, avoiding clichés like "I'm sorry for your loss" felt more genuine. But Luna wasn't the average girl.

"My mom died just last year," she continued, as if not even hearing Maca's comment. "A spell went wrong. It was terrifying. I've been sad ever since… but I don't cry. I can't. I think Dad's even sadder than me, and I don't want him to worry."

As he listened to her quiet voice grow ever softer, Maca touched the envelope he had tucked into his coat pocket. A thought crossed his mind, raising one of his brows.

"My mother passed too… so I think I understand that feeling. But maybe, just maybe, it doesn't mean we'll never see them again," he said thoughtfully. "The principles of magic are still so vague. If we could understand them better…"

Luna's face showed a flicker of real emotion at last—but not the sort of surprise one might expect from such a statement.

"Mistakes can be dangerous," she said quietly, but with unexpected clarity.

"Yeah… you're probably right," Maca replied awkwardly, rubbing his forehead.

Luna watched him a bit longer, then smiled faintly. She pressed her lips together and added softly, "Still… it is a path."

The night breeze was refreshing but chilly. Maca shivered and wrapped his coat tighter. He waved for Luna to follow and turned to head back toward the house shaped like a giant chess piece.

Luna stayed for a moment longer, watching his back, then gently pressed her lips together.

"Wisdom is humanity's greatest treasure," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible.