I didn’t manage to visit the Lovegoods until three days later. Luna sent me a little black owl with a hawk-like head—Carla, she called her. Needless to say, I headed straight to her house as soon as I finished work.

Luna was tanned and had grown a bit taller, but her dreamy, faraway look hadn’t changed. It gave her a childlike charm that made her impossibly endearing. She was thrilled to see me and didn’t bother hiding it.

“Luna, where are the photos?” I asked when she was animatedly recounting all the sights she’d seen during her trip—something unusual for her.

“What do I need photos for, Ron?” she replied, genuinely puzzled.

“Well, to look back on the places you’ve been and the things you saw,” I stammered. “Or, you know, to show me, so I can see them too.”

“I remember everything just fine,” she countered. “And I’m telling you about it, aren’t I?”

“That’s listening, though. Looking’s different,” I insisted.

“If you truly want to listen, you’ll see it all in your mind,” she said earnestly. “And if you don’t, even looking at pictures won’t help.”

Well, she had a point, didn’t she? Couldn’t argue with that logic, so I just laughed.

My gifts delighted her, though it wasn’t the hair ties or clips that caught her fancy, but the phoenix feather. She twirled around the room, humming, holding the feather aloft and letting it float gently down before catching it again. Afterward, she stuck it carefully in a vase of dried flowers, refusing outright to use it for writing—it would be disrespectful, she said.

“But don’t worry, Ron,” she said with a soft smile, patting my shoulder in reassurance. “I’ve got a swan feather. Look.”

She brought out a beautiful, delicate white quill and slid it into the holder I’d given her. “See? Much better,” she said, handing it to me to inspect before flashing another bright smile.

“Oh, and I’ve got a gift for you,” she chirped, darting off and returning with a single orange radish in her palm. “The Zeppelin Plums have ripened. They sharpen your perception of anything new or unusual and ward off Nargles,” she added with a thoughtful, serious expression. “It’s an amulet, just for you.”

“Thanks, Luna,” I said with a grin. “So, er, how do I wear it?”

“One moment!” she said brightly, fetching a crafting box. She plaited a cord and fastened the radish securely to it. Watching her work was mesmerising; she didn’t just make things—she poured life and energy into them. It’s why every trinket she crafted felt like a real charm, even something as silly as a necklace of butterbeer caps. Honestly, if she’d insisted on piercing my ear to give me a radish earring, I’d probably have gone along with it and worn it proudly.

Her magic had a warmth and gentleness to it—nothing like the fiery, explosive energy Mum exuded. Being near Luna made me feel grounded and at peace. It was the sort of harmony that made you not want to leave, just in case you lost that feeling of balance.

When she finished, she slipped the necklace over my head, then started making herself earrings out of similar radishes. They suited her perfectly—the orange brought out a sparkle in her eyes, as if she was already looking forward to tomorrow’s adventures and the people she might meet.

Her wand, like Luna herself, was simple yet unique. It was made of white oak, with no proper handle, just a faintly carved green vine pattern near the grip. Honestly, it looked more like one of those chopsticks you’d find in a Chinese restaurant or a wooden hairpin than a wand. Luna, ever whimsical, tucked it behind her ear like her father did.

Unlike my parents, Xenophilius didn’t stop Luna from practising magic. So we spent our time casting spells together. I showed her the wand movements I’d learnt using a pencil, making sure she got them right. But her magic was always... grander. She didn’t just levitate a feather; her Leviosa had half the house floating about, including me. And her Cheering Charms? Let’s just say I nearly died laughing when they ricocheted off and hit her stuffed bear, which started rolling around in hysterics.

Later, she brought out a book on braiding spells meant for girls, and we spent the evening magically plaiting hair in all sorts of styles.

“Luna,” I hesitated on our last evening together, taking her hands in mine. “I wanted to ask you something. I know your parents were both in Ravenclaw, but would you consider asking the Sorting Hat to put you in Gryffindor? They say it listens if you make a request. That way, we could be together. Our house is brilliant—you’d love it.”

‘And no one would dare lay a finger on you,’ I thought fiercely.

“Alright,” she agreed easily, giving me a soft smile. “If that’s what you want, Ron.”

Walking home that night, I couldn’t help feeling joy at the idea of her joining us at Gryffindor. But deep down, I knew better than to get my hopes up. Luna had a knack for telling people what they wanted to hear, only to turn around and do whatever she liked. She never argued or pushed back—she just quietly shifted the weight of other people’s expectations back onto them. It was something I’d learned the hard way when I told her to stop visiting me at work. If she didn’t fancy Gryffindor, not even Merlin himself could change her mind.

As for the diary, I buried it in a sandy patch in the woods near the Burrow, after using runes from a book Luna lent me. I scorched chains of runes onto four stones, added a few drops of my blood, and buried the lot. It wouldn’t stop real dark magic, but the diary itself seemed clean. But more importantly no one but me would ever find the spot.

By the time I headed back, everyone was still at the beach, so I shifted the diary to its new hiding place. Luna’s book on runes had made me determined to take the subject in third year—if I lived that long, anyway.

That evening, Mum put on a proper spread, and the twins outdid themselves with a fireworks show. A proper feast and a show. Before bed, I stocked up on sandwiches, leftover treacle tart, and got the thermos ready, same as I did last year. When I got back to my room, there was a stack of freshly laundered and ironed clothes waiting for me—Mum’s doing, of course.

Harry and I took our time sorting out our gear and packing up our trunks. After that, we spent the rest of the evening messing about with new spells—well, Harry did the actual spellcasting. Meanwhile, I was plotting to have a serious word with Dad next year about lifting the ban on me using magic. Honestly, it was embarrassing—felt like I was stuck in nursery.

Morning brought the usual chaos. Everyone except Harry and me was rushing about like headless chickens, hunting for socks, quills, textbooks, and other bits and bobs. After a quick bite to eat, Dad was left lugging trunks and owl cages to the car. Luckily, I’d suggested Harry send Hedwig to Hogwarts on her own. He sent her off with a note for Hagrid and told her to wait for him there—kept things simple.

Dad fiddled with a couple of buttons on the car, and the inside expanded.

“Extension charms, like in the enchanted tent,” I explained to Harry, who was staring wide-eyed as we settled into the back seat. Mum and Ginny took the front.

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“Dad, why are we driving to the station like Muggles again this year?” I asked. “Wouldn’t the Floo be faster and easier?”

“Well… for safety reasons, Ron,” Dad mumbled, avoiding my gaze. “You see, Harry’s relatives are Muggles, and—oh, Molly, dear!” He leapt out of the car to help Mum with something, clearly trying to dodge any awkward questions.

“More like he wanted an excuse to drive the car again,” I muttered to Harry. “Mum’s not exactly keen on Dad’s Muggle gadget obsession, but an official reason makes it harder for her to argue.”

Before long, the twins and Percy piled into the car while Dad helped Ginny find her seat.

“These Muggles aren’t as daft as I thought,” Mum said, looking around at the surprisingly roomy car. Dad avoided her gaze, looking rather sheepish.

We had to go back three times. Fred forgot his box of crackers. Then George realised he’d left his broom behind. Ginny started crying about a forgotten diary. But when Percy insisted on returning for his enchanted quill, I lost my temper. Dad wasn’t having it either and decided the quill could wait—it’d be sent by owl later. Right then, I made a vow: Next time, I’m taking the Floo. Everyone else can walk for all I care.

When we finally made it to the station, Dad rushed to grab us trolleys, looking frazzled.

“Right, boys, here you go. Quickly now—the train leaves in ten minutes!”

The twins lobbed their trunks and brooms onto one trolley while Percy helped stack the rest of our things before darting off after Mum and Ginny. That left Harry and me to sort ourselves out.

“Wait, Harry!” I shouted as he charged at the barrier. He slammed straight into it, sending his trolley flying. Honestly, I was glad we’d sent Hedwig ahead.

“What’s this, Ron?” Harry asked, dazed and a bit flustered as passersby shot us annoyed looks. He frantically checked the wall with his hand. “The barrier’s broken?”

“Probably down to your little pal Dobby,” I said, scowling as I tested the barrier with my own trolley. Nothing.

“Ron, we missed the train,” Harry croaked, sounding utterly panicked as the station clock struck the hour.

“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” I said, brushing it off. “It’s not the end of the world. Grab your trolley—we’ll head back to the car.”

“You mean to wait for your parents?” Harry asked, perking up slightly.

“Not exactly,” I replied as we wheeled our trolleys to the car. “Dad’s off to work as soon as we’re sorted, and Mum can’t drive. She’ll Floo home. Get in the front seat,” I told him, tossing the trunks into the boot and hopping into the driver’s seat.

“Wait—you’re going to fly the car to Hogwarts?” Harry asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Don’t be daft!” I said, staring at him like he’d lost the plot. “What do you take me for, a complete nutter? Flying halfway across the country in this old thing? Besides, I’m not risking getting Dad into trouble.”

“Then… why are we sitting here?” Harry asked, completely puzzled.

“We’re waiting for the auto-pilot spell to kick in,” I explained. “Dad charmed the car to return to the garage on its own. Should be off in about—” I checked my watch, “—twenty minutes. I could drive it back myself, but honestly, why bother?”

“So, what then? Back to the Burrow?” Harry pressed, still fretting about missing the train.

“Two options,” I said, turning to face him. “We could summon the Knight Bus and be in Hogsmeade in an hour, then walk to the castle. Or we head home, take the Floo to the Three Broomsticks, and hoof it from there.”

“Why not the bus?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Too pricey,” I said, settling into my seat. “Hogwarts is in Scotland. A bus fare to Hogsmeade would set us back at least a Galleon, maybe more. Floo powder’s only a couple of Sickles, and we ought to let the adults know what’s happened. Don’t fancy starting term with detention, do you? Oh—here we go!”

The car rumbled to life, shimmering as the invisibility charms activated. It lifted off the ground and headed south. Less than twenty minutes later, we were back at the Burrow, trunks and Scabbers’ cage in tow.

Mum didn’t make a fuss—well, not much. She patched up Harry’s scraped knee, fixed his torn trousers, and sent us to the kitchen while she had a blazing row with Dad via Floo. Apparently, it was his job to make sure we boarded the train.

I couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty about missing Ginny’s first trip to school—or checking in on Luna. But I’d be damned if I missed the Sorting Feast.

Later, Mum got in touch with someone from the school while we munched on the sandwiches she’d prepared earlier. We even managed to have a quick fly about. Around four, Dad came back, and he used the Floo to get us to the Three Broomsticks. From there, he contacted McGonagall, and a Hogwarts house-elf popped in, grabbed our things, and vanished with them in the blink of an eye. That left us with nearly two hours to roam the village, so naturally, we stocked up on sweets at Honeydukes. Even I couldn’t resist and picked up some sugared nuts, a couple of sugar quills, and a handful of Peppermint Imps to try, along with the usual goodies like halva, sherbet, and chocolate—all for nearly two Galleons. Harry, of course, went all out.

Dad didn’t forget to shrink down our purchases, and just before seven, he walked us to the castle. So, we got to visit Hogsmeade before our third year—brilliant, really.

At the castle, McGonagall and Snape were waiting for us. While the Deputy Headmistress had a hushed and rather serious chat with Dad, Snape stood there looming, his face like thunder as he stared us down.

“So, arriving at school like the rest of the mortal world is too pedestrian for you, Mr. Potter?” he sneered in that venomous way of his. “You simply had to make a grand entrance.”

“It was the barrier, sir,” Harry tried to explain earnestly, as if Snape would ever care about an excuse.

“Silence,” Snape hissed, his voice dripping with menace. “If you were in my House, you’d already be on your way home.”

“Fortunately, we’re not, sir,” Harry replied, overly polite but with just enough cheek to challenge Snape.

Before Snape could dock us points for existing, McGonagall turned to us.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley,” she said crisply, “you’re free to go. Your belongings have been delivered to your dormitory. Do clean yourselves up—you’re covered in soot. The other students will be arriving shortly.” Then, to my surprise, she added, “Well done, Mr. Weasley, for returning home and informing your parents.” She even smiled before walking off with Dad toward the fireplace.

We didn’t stick around long enough for Snape to find another reason to glare at us and bolted up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.

Once in the dorm, we changed into clean robes, washed up, and stashed away our purchases. By the time we headed to the Great Hall, the place was bustling with students arriving for the feast. Percy spotted us and rushed over, his face pale with worry.

“Ron! Harry! Is it true?” he practically shouted. “I nearly lost my mind when I realised you weren’t on the train! I had to send a note to the school through the conductor. How did you even get here?”

“Er, later, Perce,” I said quickly, dragging him toward the Gryffindor table. “The Sorting’s about to start, and I don’t want to miss Ginny.”

As the first-years filed in, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. Had we really looked that small and terrified just a year ago? They huddled together like frightened kittens, seeking comfort from one another. Well, except for Luna. She strolled in like she was exploring some magical realm only she could see, her dreamy gaze fixed on the enchanted ceiling. With her bright earrings and slightly messy plaits, she looked delightfully odd.

“Ravenclaw!” the Sorting Hat called, and Luna skipped off to her new table without a hint of hesitation. I watched as Penelope Clearwater leaned down to whisper something welcoming to her, though Luna didn’t seem to notice. She just nodded absently, her eyes drifting across the staff table. When her gaze landed on me, she gave a small, soft smile before turning her attention elsewhere. I sighed. Not meant to be, I supposed.

Watching everyone’s reactions to Luna was oddly entertaining. Dumbledore gave her an encouraging nod and raised his goblet in a salute. McGonagall looked startled, then vaguely exasperated before turning away. Most of the staff ignored her entirely—except for Flitwick, who observed her with keen interest. Snape, however, had the best reaction. At first, he looked confused, then scowled darkly. When Luna gave him one of her serene, otherworldly smiles, he visibly shuddered and broke eye contact first. I nearly burst out laughing—looked like he wouldn’t be bothering her any time soon.

Ginny plopped down beside me, looking happy. During the feast, she prattled on about how she’d already made friends with a couple of girls, though they’d ended up in different Houses. She’d sat with Luna on the train, but it didn’t sound like they’d hit it off. Too weird for her, probably. Typical.

After the feast, Percy gathered the first-years to lead them to Gryffindor Tower. Harry and I got ahead of them and were back in the dormitory before they arrived. We spent ages swapping stories about our summers until we finally conked out.