#tangled up in this nonsense all because I was obsessed with cats in middle school and thought a cat superhero was cool 💀

[reki-rixt]

I feel like at this point I’m not even willingly watching Miraculous, I just randomly see edits on Instagram, check the comments, and go “there’s no fucking way that happened”

And then I have no choice but to watch the show to see if the nonsense is true (it always is)

[plush-anon]

after many hours spent pausing the show bc good lord why did they do that, i have now finished Love Never Dies

annnnnd yikes 😬😬😬

I’ll start with the few positives I did enjoy from the recorded Australian production on Youtube:

1.) the camera work. This is the kind of thing I dream of for professionally recorded shows - it really allows for some lovely close-up shots of how the emotions play over their faces, it’s lush

2.) the costumes are well-crafted, and I desperately Want the Phantom’s long-ass swooshy trenchcoat cape thing he wore for the first half-hour 

3.) the sets used throughout this are honestly very impressively used and put together for some really fantastic shots

4.) the opening, with ‘Til’ I Hear You Sing Once More’. This song is honestly very lovely, and really articulates the Phantom’s loss and heartache for Christine. It’s sung very earnestly, and had the rest of the show been more like this I might have liked it more. 

5.) the Fucking Song, ‘Beneath a Moonless Sky’, is a guilty pleasure. It’s so over the top, and it is only about recounting that One Time they totally banged yo, and I love it. I think it’s the orchestration, but it’s also enjoyably silly even while it takes itself 100% serious. 

6.) As much as I hate to say this? ‘Devil Take the Hindmost’. While I hate the gist of the song - that being Raoul and Erik betting on who Christine will choose, and pretty much deciding for her who will get to be her one true love forever, completely negating the entire point of the OF musical where her choice was the most important factor for all of them - the pacing and the lyrics as they dance around each other are absolutely fantastic. It’s kind of sad to say, but Raoul and the Phantom, in this scene alone, display more chemistry in their singing than they do with anyone else. Let the hatefcuking commence~

7.) Some parts of ‘The Beauty Underneath’ I enjoy, particularly the ending scene where the Phantom is trying to talk Meg down. It’s very slow, melodic, and shows his more manipulative side, as well as how he can crawl into someone’s head, I love it. 

8.) This very interesting visual with a mirror in Christine’s dressing room. There are two separate scenes where someone is in the mirror singing. The first is the Phantom, between Raoul and Christine. The second is Raoul between the Phantom and Christine. It’s honestly a nice touch.

9.) The main three are excellent singers. 

 Unfortunately, that’s all on the list of what I liked. Everything else is a Giant Fcuking Mess. 

1.) The Phantom is no longer a complex, messed-up, but still somewhat sympathetic character, no; this is just a giant asshole who takes everyone for granted and barely realizes that anyone else exists except Christine, and even then only really as his personal instrument. 

He never actually apologizes to Christine for the shit he’s put her through and continues to put her through, but still demands obedience and forgiveness and understanding. It completely negates the entire point of POTO’s ending, where he actually realizes he’s done wrong by her and his actions pertaining her, and lets her go from his world entirely, and RESPECTING HER CHOICES AND LEAVING HER ALONE. 

Not to mention This Bitch also threatens to kidnap/possible “lose” her child if she doesn’t sing for him, keeps pushing her around and telling her what to do, and manipulating her life to change her decisions for her. 

AND HE’S FRAMED AS THE BETTER OPTION HERE

2.) Which reminds of me of the next big asshat: Raoul de Chagny, who has now become an alcoholic gambler who pushes his wife to do things she’s not comfortable doing to repay his debts, neglects his son entirely, and also is abrasive and controlling of Christine, to the point he yanks her back and forth on doing shit. Play this role! We should leave bc he was an asshole! No now we should leave bc Phantom is back! No take the role he’s paying triple! I’ll make a bet on whether she loves me to pay my debts! No wait you should quit ten minutes before you go on-stage bc I don’t want to lose you! MAKE UP YOUR GODDAMN MIND YOU MISERABLE PISSANT SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

Like I can understand being overprotective to a certain degree, which could eventually morph into being controlling. But neglecting your son, your wife, drinking and gambling your fortune away? ALL of that?!? Really???

Shouldn’t he be desperate to keep his wife and son close to him at all times after the events of POTO? Never leave, never go anywhere, only do what’s safe? You COULD have set this up as a continuation of Safety versus Freedom with Raoul and the Phantom, show the good and bad of both and have her choose from there. Show the dichotomies and hypocrisies of both men’s standards. 

But nope! We’re just totes gonna make the husband like this for no goddamn reason, especially since Raoul doesn’t start suspecting that Gustave (his son) isn’t really his until Devil Take the Hindmost. He’s just that much of an idiot!

3.) The presence of Madame Giry and Meg Giry. Oh gods, where to even begin? They’re pretty much only here so that Sir Andy doesn’t have to make new characters with different backstories and motivations and introduce them accordingly. Nope! Now both women are blaming Christine for leaving the Phantom Man-Baby, and talking about everything they sacrificed to help him make his stupid-ass circus, and talking about how they love him and GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH Madame Giry in the POTO musical YOU LED RAOUL DIRECTLY TO THE PHANTOM’S LAIR SO HE COULD RESCUE CHRISTINE WHY ARE YOU COMPLAINING ABOUT HOW SHE BETRAYED HIM

And, oh, Meg... she reaaaaaaaaaaaaally got the short end of the stick here. I just... poor dear, she was horribly treated in this. 

Neither of them deserved to be like this, honestly. 

4.) Christine, to a lesser extent. Experienced Literal Character Assassination, forced to choose between two horrible options, stripped of her agency entirely, used as a bet in a game between said two horrible options, lied to and dragged around constantly, should have taken Gustave and run off with Meg to run a music store together. Fcuk you Sir Andy, for using POTO characters to act out your bitterness and frustration at your ex. 

5.) The entirety of the whole Boardwalk Circus schtick, spawning an additional Fuck You to Frederick Forsythe, who thought this was a tenable option for the story to progress. 

6.) The Phantom’s deformity was literally just four lines drawn onto his face with crayon and some smeared lipstick:

what even the fcuk, you couldn’t make the make-up crayon drawing more detailed??? take more than ten minutes to draw it on???

I never thought I would say this, but even the 2004 film’s depiction was better than this! At least that one partially drew from a real medical condition, Sturge-Weber Syndrome. What the fcuk is your excuse LND?!?

7.)  The Lyrics. Oh gods, the lyrics. Some songs were decent, mostly the ones I listed up top. But the rest? Did someone forget to give the writer a more advanced/creative guide to rhyming lyrics? I wrote better shit in middle school than Glenn Slater did for the majority of these lyrics. 

Glenn my dude, what the fcuk is this nonsense? You’ve written good shit like the Tangled songs and stuff for Galavant! Why are you writing worse than an angst-ridden middle schooler? It is immensely frustrating, to say the least. 

8.) The really WEIRD direction in acting. No one here acts like they know how to move their arms or hands naturally; there’s a lot of really odd and unnecessary gesturing that makes it look like everyone has just had their limbs replaced with faulty robotic arms. There’s also a lot of leaning the characters do, with their arms perfectly straight by their side and it just looks wrong. 

9.) The Phantom’s pseudonym is Mr. Y. No, they never explain why it is he chose that particular moniker. 

10.) Bathing Beauty. Just... all of it, here, tied to POTO, present and here. 

11.) It’s been exactly 10 years since Christine saw/banged the Phantom, and her son is precisely 10 years old. 

That’s... not how pregnancy works. At all. 

12.) This weird scene with the American press, where they are absolutely obsessed with Christine, despite the facts they present, such as:

- She hasn’t performed in 10 years anywhere. 

- She was a French performer, and

- She only starred in three operas at the Populaire (Hannibal, Il Muto, and Don Juan Triumphant, which wasn’t even finished. So technically 2.2 operas that we know of). 

Why, precisely, would American reporters be so obsessed with her upon hearing she’s coming? I could see some interest given the whole shebang with the Phantom, but after 10 years of radio silence, would she really garner an entire crowd of reporters and photographers... in America, no less? 

France I could definitely see. America? Not so much. 

13.) Gustave is a flat, generic kid character, who apparently is totes the Phantom’s son because... he can play the piano well. And also has the same ideas of music as the Phantom, despite never being taught about them, or discussed such things with his mother. 

Is musical talent only inherited through the father’s side of the family in this universe? I mean, we never learn about Christine’s mother, just her famous violinist father. Otherwise, why is it Gustave’s musical talent isn’t attributed to - oh, I don’t know - HIS FAMOUS OPERA SINGER MOTHER?!?

14.) Apparently the Phantom is also now the one who invented cars OH I MEAN “horseless carriages” 🙄 A carriage with no engine and a “ghost horse” appears, and everyone is just fcuking stunned by this, like they’ve never seen a vehicle move without a horse before. In 1907. 22 years after the first functional automobile was invented. Ugh. 

15.) seriously tho who thought basing a sequel on the Frederick Forsythe novel was a good idea why did nobody think to stop him apart from Sir Andy’s pet cat Otto. why.

16) The Phantom’s interactions with Gustave are distinctly creepy and unsettling. I keep getting pedo vibes from him and I Do Not Like It.

17.) The death scene at the end is so goddamn over-the-top and out of nowhere I just want to throw something, ugh

18.) And finally, my last gripe with this mess: This takes place in 1907, and declares that it’s ten years after the original musical. Despite the fact that the OG took place in 1885. Yippy skippy. 😑

I can honestly say I am Not a Fan of this musical as a whole, mostly based on the plot and the character assassinations (one quite literal) and the poor lyrics. I can admire the camera work, the basic singing ability, the scenery and costumes, and maybe two or three songs. But I just do not enjoy it. It took me two days to finish watching it because I kept cringing from what shit kept happening, and had to walk around and listen to other shit to get it out of my head. 

HOWEVER: People do enjoy this one on the sake of it being so bad and over-the-top, and I can honestly see the whys. It helps that most of the cast can sing, and the orchestration is done well. There’s a TON of stupid to mock, and a lot of over-the-top awkwardness to laugh at. This is a good one to watch and mock with friends, IMO. 

For those of you who do enjoy it, I’m afraid I have to disagree on most of it. Still, it is nice being able to watch this one for free, even if it is a giant hot mess.

And that’s all for me on this one! Have a good week guys!

[iamthestrangerinmoscow]

My assignment for @autisticfanworkexchange - a fanfic for  @kyrfiore

I’m sorry that I couldn’t write anything more specific, but we were matched by mods and I’m only familiar with Harry Potter. However I tried my best and I hope you will still appreciate it. Also sorry for my weird punctuation - twelve years of learning English, still can’t punctuate dialogues the English way.

“We’re Scully and Mulder”

fandom: Harry Potter 

rating: PG-13/T

AU (alternative to “Nighteen Years Later”), Luna/Hermione, detective, mystery, fluff, autistic!Luna, autistic!Hermione; ~5500 words long

content warnings for: death/murder (but there’s nothing too nasty or graphic)

“They got together; wave and stone,

Verse and prose, ice and flame…”

Alexander Pushkin, ‘Eugene Onegin’

 Today Hermione came back home even later than usual. Her fumbling with the door keys woke up the neighbors’ yappy dog, and she quietly cursed under her breath, as she continued to look for the keyhole in the darkness of the alleyway. The door seemed adamant about not wanting to be opened. Glancing over her shoulder to check for strangers, Hermione took out her wand and whispered ‘lumos’. A beam of white light shone from the wand, and finally she could locate the keyhole. She couldn’t just use ‘alahomora’ on this one – it was protected from unwanted entrance.

The door clicked, hissed and screeched – as if tiny gears were spinning and turning inside it. When, in the end, it opened, it revealed a small room lit by a soft, orange light. If someone was to enter it without a special key, all they would find in the house was dust and empty halls. But the muggles believed the house was abandoned years ago, so they rarely bothered to even pass by. Sometimes kids would come to explore the place, out of curiosity or for a dare, but they didn’t stay for long. For them, it wasn’t entertaining enough, simply because they never saw the truth.

Hermione closed the door behind her, and tiptoed her way into the living room. It was quiet and dark, so she assumed Luna was already asleep. She wasn’t surprised – it was already past midnight when she left the Ministry. It must have been very late now. Or very early, depending on your point of view. She dropped her heavy bag on the couch, took off her coat and boots, and headed for the kitchen. There a big plate covered by a metal lid was waiting for her on the table. Hermione smiled, took of the lid and breathed in the smell of food. One time she asked Luna what kind of magic she used for cooking. To that she replied with one word: ‘spices’.

She heated up the cold chicken curry with a silent movement of her wand and sat in the kitchen eating. All around her on the walls were paintings, paintings of rare (and sometimes imaginary) creatures, beautiful landscapes, and friendly faces. Luna’s life centered on her art, it was everywhere you looked. In the morning, right after sunrise, she was already in their garden, painting another masterpiece. Often she would draw the same picture over and over again, perfecting the technique, focusing on every tiny detail that seemed important to her. Hermione was pretty sure that, by now, their every friend had at least a few of Luna’s paintings in their house. And still, there was never a shortage. She didn’t seem to ever run out of inspiration.

After finishing her late night dinner, Hermione put the dish in the sink and tiptoed up the stairs to the bedroom. As she has guessed, Luna was in the bed, wrapped in three heavy blankets and asleep. Not bothering to change into pajamas, Hermione took off everything apart from her underwear and quietly slipped under the blankets. Luna’s sleep remained undisturbed. With a sign of relief, Hermione turned on her side and pressed her face into the soft, cool pillow. She was so tired that sleep kidnapped her mind before her thoughts came back to today’s events, and luckily so. At least the disturbing images stayed out of her dreams.

***

She woke up because something heavy was sitting on her chest. Hermione rubbed her eyes and squinted. It was Vincent – their fluffy, slightly overfed cat. She stretched, making Vincent jump from her chest and walk away on his short legs, evidently not very pleased.

As she got up and started picking a new set of clothes, Luna entered the room.

-Good morning, buttercup. – She murmured, fiddling with a lock of her hair. – Breakfast is ready.

And immediately after she turned round to leave.

-You’re not gonna ask me about yesterday? – Hermione asked.

Luna shrugged. – I’m not gonna interrogate you before your first cup of coffee. Besides, I have flowers to water. – She pointed at the shirts that Hermione held in her hands. – That one. – She said. – It is softer, and looks much better on you. Now, gotta check on those tulips.

Hermione smiled. Luna and she couldn’t have been more different. Luna was quiet and gentle, moving like a flower petal on the wind, carefully avoiding every obstacle in her way. She spoke rarely, and even when she did, her words were sometimes puzzling, sometimes outright nonsensical, but Hermione could always understand her. And Hermione spoke a lot, maybe even too much – even when exhausted beyond the point of no return, she would still create long, sophisticated monologues filled with meaning. But she always envied Luna, her creative talents, the grace in her movements… Hermione couldn’t walk across her own house without bumping into something.

The differences didn’t stop there. Hermione was order, and Luna was chaos. Hermione took the same route on her way home, every day, for the last seven years. She read the same books she had as a child, and kept her interests and obsessions for decades. Luna collected obsessions like stamps – every few months, there was something new. She loved re-decorating the house, moving the furniture around in ever so subtle ways, which sometimes pissed Hermione off. Luna resided in randomness; it seemed her world was bigger than just the objects around her. There was a universe in her mind that she didn’t share with anyone.

 The golden rays of the sun were crawling slowly up the walls, highlighting every scratch and dusty surface. The air was thick and smelled of syrop and coffee beans. Hermione held her cup firmly in her hands, sipping the hot liquid. She loved her mornings: sitting near the window, eating breakfast and watching her beloved girlfriend take care of the flowers. Her house was a safe place. It was calm, quiet, and familiar – pleasantly devoid of surprises. Well, except for Luna’s eccentric decorating projects.

-Did you enjoy the waffles?

Hermione didn’t catch the moment Luna came back to the house. She was standing in front of the table, her blond hair messy and tangled, dirt under her fingernails.

-I did. – Hermione nodded, mixing her coffee absent-mindedly.

-What is bothering you? – Luna asked, and took a seat opposite her.

Once again, Hermione was surprised by Luna’s abilities to read her state of mind. Five years of living together, and she still relied on taking sneak-peaks at Luna’s mood stone. Despite sounding like a cheap fake, that trinket of her actually worked.

-The usual. – Hermione replied. – Rather nasty case in the ministry.

Hermione loved working in the Magical Law Enforcement, she truly did. But every time they sent her to be an expert on a ‘special case’, the memories would haunt her for weeks.

-Murder?

-Suspected. And nobody has any idea what might have killed him.

-Who was the victim?

-A man, Sebastian Abbey. He lived alone, no family, no friends, recently released from Azkaban after two years of service for various small crimes – not exactly a celebrated member of society. That’s probably why he was found a week after he died. No one checked on him. They aren’t sure if it has any connection with magic, they called us because he was a wizard.

-What do you think has happened? – Luna was twirling a ribbon in her hands, wrapping it around her index finger, then unwrapping, then doing it again.

-I have no idea. Couldn’t have been murder, or suicide, or natural cause. But it sure is creepy.

 They climbed down the wobbly staircase, and it felt like it could break under their feet at any minute. The cellar was dark, and the smell of rotting and decay was overwhelming. The wooden floor was covered by dirt, dry leafs and old, yellow scrolls. And there, in the middle of the room, was the reason they were here – a body of a young man.

Avior, Hermione’s trainee, stood in the corner, eyes fixated on one spot. He was easily frightened and didn’t deal very well with stress, but it didn’t stop him from choosing his current job. Hermione wanted to encourage him, but she didn’t feel well herself. She almost had to force her own hand to move and direct the source of light to the victim. The dead man laid on his back on the muddy floor, his eyes closed, his skin grey and slightly wrinkled. There were no signs of trauma or struggle. In fact, he looked as if he fell asleep and passed away for no reason at all. Hermione has seen things much worse, during the war and at her work. Nevertheless, the sight was bothering her immensely.

-This place looks deserted. Like no one has lived here for years. – Avior said, cautiously taking a step forward.

-He returned from prison a month ago. – Hermione explained. – His name is, was, Sebastian.

-Did the previous team come up with any explanations?

-They haven’t got a clue. – She was waving her wand over the body, checking for any used spell. – That’s why they called us.

-Doesn’t look like a human could have done it. Could it be an animal, or a magical creature? Like a dementor.

-Dementors don’t kill. – Hermione replied. – They are only interested in the soul.

-Maybe it was an accident. I saw a cauldron in the living room. Many potions prepared improperly can kill. – He forced an awkward smile. – I was good at potions at school.

-I’m very happy for you. – She told him, only then realizing how sarcastic her tone was. – I’m sorry, Ave. I like this no more than you do.

The other workers soon arrived to take the body to a facility. They had specialists who could identify tiny traces of any substance, or any spell. Yet they discovered nothing. When they came back to the ministry, Hermione turned to the best source of comfort and knowledge she knew – a library. Her own collection was so extensive, finding the right volume was already a challenge. She spent the rest of her day with her books. She was so absorbed by the confusing, contradicting statements that her perception of time just turned off. By the time she got up from her chair, it was already late evening.

What was the mysterious force that killed a man right there, in his house, leaving no traces and no clues? She didn’t know, and it was making her feel uneasy and rather anxious.

 -When lost, look for someone who is lost too. – Luna said, then got up and started picking up the dirty dishes. She hummed a tune under her breath as she guided the plates into the sink with an upward motion of her wand. – Nevil will love the asters. They are about to bloom.

Immediately, Hermione understood what Luna meant.

-You’re right. – She said. – I’ll ask Harry about it.

-Say hi to thestrals from me. – Luna added, kissing Hermione on the cheek.

And a minute later she was gone from the room.

***

The Floo network between the ministry and Hogwarts was due for a renewal decades ago, but the wizards and witches in charge of budget kept postponing it. ‘We already have the Hogwarts Express to pay for!’ they said. Hermione wondered what they would say if they had to use the system, at least once in a while. She cursed under her breath, then sneezed, and a small puff of Floo powder erupted from her nose. Trying desperately to brush it off her robe, she climbed out of the fireplace and stretched.

The Defense against the dark arts professor’s office was empty and looked rather lonely. Hermione has heard that Harry didn’t use it very often, and preferred to spend his free time in the Gryffindor common room. It made the students increasingly uncomfortable, but no one wanted to talk to him about it. Twenty years later, Harry still couldn’t take a hint.

She found him in one of the classrooms, cleaning up after some sort of magical accident. There were tiny pieces of shredded paper everywhere: some of them smoking, some already burning. Harry was leaping from one pile of paper shreds to another, distinguishing the fire with swift motions of his wand, completely absorbed by the task. Hermione giggled, but he didn’t notice. She took her own want out of her pocket, raised her arm in the air and said:

-Scourgify.

And the mess disappeared. Harry turned on the spot and looked at Hermione as if she just did something absolutely inexcusable.

-Thanks a lot. – He said, and sighed. – Now I’ll have to set it up again for the next class.

-You mean this was done on purpose?

-Of course! I am simulating a snow storm.

-You do know there is a spell that creates snow, right? – She pointed her wand upwards, and snowflakes started falling from the ceiling.

-Oh. – Harry scratched his head, rather embarrassed. – Well, paper still looks nicer.

 They sat near a window and drank tea while a bunch of first year students had their broomstick flying class outside. Hermione smiled as she remembered her first try, and Harry’s ultimate triumph on that day.

-Oliver Wood comes to give a masterclass or two every year. – Harry informed her. – I go to Hogsmeade when it happens. He always makes me do a demonstration, and I hate that.

-Sure, because you can’t stand being in the center of attention, the chosen one.

-I’d love it, if I could fly as well as I used to. – He replied. – No, I’d rather stick to my own subject.

Once they have discussed all the recent news and rumors, Hermione was going to get to the purpose of her visit, but was interrupted by a girl in Ravenclaw robes sneaking into the classroom without knocking.

-Professor Potter? – She called, her hands clasped awkwardly behind her back.

-What is it, Jamie? – Harry asked.

-There are pixies in the corridor near the Clock Tower.

-No there aren’t. I checked. Twice.

-But sir, Lin and I, we saw them!

-If there were any pixies there, I would have found them. – Harry insisted. – I have been an auror, you know.

The girl giggled. – For six months.

-Have you been an auror for six months, Jamie? – He asked, a kind expression on his face.

-No. – The girl replied. – But I might be, when I grow up.

-You shouldn’t miss your classes then. Don’t you have Herbology right now?

She nodded, and turned to leave.

-Kind of tired of those pixie rumors. – Harry told Hermione when the girl closed the door behind her. – To be honest, I did hear some noise in that corridor. Hope they won’t actually find any. That would be embarrassing.

Hermione laughed. – You know, I am still a little bit shocked by the fact McGonnagal even allowed you to teach, with no experience and no recommendation letter.

-They don’t exactly have people lining up for this position. – He shrugged. – Besides, at least I do my job better than, say, a man with Voldemort on his head, or worse – Umbridge.

-Can’t argue with that. – Hermione smiled.

-So, might I ask you why you are here? – He asked. – Apart from insulting my teaching abilities.

-Oh, you should be pleased.  –She replied. – I am here for your wisdom and expertise.

He listened to her speak, and not a muscle moved on his face. Harry wasn’t easily disturbed. Maybe he developed an immunity, or maybe he just learned not to show it. Once she had nothing more to say, he shook his head.

-I’m sorry, but I have no idea. My only original guess was Basilisk, or something of the kind. There is magic that leaves no trace, but I am not familiar enough with that. I can list a dozen or so of potential spells, but I don’t think it will help you.

-Right. – Hermione frowned. – I guess we’ll have to postpone the case, until more evidence resurfaces. It’s a shame though. Maybe he wasn’t a very nice guy, but he deserves justice too.

Suddenly someone burst through the door.

-Professor Potter! – It was a tall, skinny boy with a Slytherin scarf around his neck. – Pixies! Near the Clock Tower!

-How many times…

-No, they caught them now. They really did!

Harry rubbed his eyes, thinking.

-Do I have to deal with it?

-It was your son who set them free though, sir. Headmistress wants to see you.

-I’ll be there in a minute. Now go, Augustus, go.

The boy nodded and left the room.

Hermione got up. – I guess I’ll be going. James is in trouble, probably.

-Three weeks at Hogwarts, already two detentions.

-You aren’t proud?

-He caused them all by accident.

Hermione smiled, but covered her mouth. – Like father, like son.

Harry didn’t react.

-Okay then, I’m gonna go see Neville. Luna gave me some aster seeds for him.

***

There were many things Hermione disliked: cruelty, hypocrisy, itchy sweaters, lukewarm tea… the list went on. However one thing never failed to ruin her emotional stability – uncertainty. Ambiguity. Mystery. When asked a question, she would spend her every waking moment thinking about it, until the answer was clear to her. People thought of her as an obnoxious know-it-all, but the truth was, absence of knowledge simply made her incredibly uncomfortable, so she strived to fill that vacuum. The problem began when a question existed, but nobody knew the answer. That’s when her need for certainty would get on her nerves.

She was biting her nails again, curled up in an armchair, and Luna noticed how tense and uncomfortable she looked. A minute later she was there with a warm blanket and a tin of sweets.

-Take one. – She said, opening the tin.

-My parents would be furious if they knew you are feeding their beloved daughter pure sugar.

-But they aren’t here. – Luna replied, and took one to demonstrate. – They taste like mint and lemon.

Hesitating for a second, Hermione took a sweet as well. Maybe it’s not very good for her teeth, but at least she isn’t biting her nails anymore. She wrapped herself in the blanket that Luna brought and made room for her in the big armchair.

-You look stormy. – Luna said. – Like a cloud when it’s about to rain. What’s on your mind?

-Oh, you know. The case. It’s bothering me so much! I just need to know what it was.

-Maybe it was tacita interfectorem. – She suggested. – It’s a wild spirit, lives under the ground, hides in there at night: in mole tunnels and in between the roots of trees. It doesn’t usually attack people, but when it does, they die instantly, and there is no trace. Blink of an eye, and that’s it.

-I appreciate your effort, but I doubt it was an imaginary creature.

-They are as imaginary as nargles. – Luna told her, slightly offended.

-Exactly my point. – Hermione nodded.

For a moment, they were silent.

-I wonder if the flavor of the quarks is a nice flavor or not. – Luna said, suddenly changing the subject. – I think their colors are pretty.

-What are you talking about? – Hermione asked.

-The quarks. The tiny things that electrons and protons and photons are made of.

One of the muggle sciences, quantum physics, was Luna’s latest obsession. She would go on for hours about the properties of Higg’s bosons and particle-wave duality of light, and to Hermione it sounded indistinguishable from her usual tales and fantasies. She found it hard to believe that those unfamiliar with magic could take these peculiar ideas and call them science, but then she saw Luna write a rather complex equation right on the living room table, and it changed her mind. She wasn’t surprised that out of all people Luna took interest in the area, and managed to make sense of it. She was a true Ravenclaw after all.

-Quarks have a spin, a color, a flavor and strangeness. And some other properties, too. I’ve told you about it a week ago, when we were outside in the garden.

-Yes, I remember. – Hermione told her. – And I still don’t understand it.

-Want to know a secret? – She asked, then leaned closer and whispered in her ear: - Nobody does. And if they say they do, they are lying.

Then Luna laughed, and her laughter was clear and melodic, like tiny bells ringing. It made Hermione feel warm and fuzzy.

-What did Harry say? Did he help you? – Luna asked, returning back to point.

-Not really. But I’m glad I talked to him. And being at Hogwarts was nice. Things are really changing there, in terms of equality. He said that back in April Slytherin students had to stay in other dorms because there was a stink problem at the dungeons again, and barely anyone protested.

-Was it Peeves that ruined their dorms?

-I think it’s just a natural thing. Maybe one day they will have to rebuild the whole building. Wouldn’t be a bad idea. The sewers definitely need a renewal – there’s a skeleton of a huge deadly snake somewhere in there.

-Are you gonna keep investigating?

Hermione sighed. – I don’t know. I think we will have to leave it unsolved.

-Okay. – Luna said. – Do you want to listen to the radio?

-With pleasure.

 They sat in the armchair together, wrapped in one blanket, with Vincent on Luna’s lap, and listened to Lee Jordan go on about the crisis in the broomstick industry – and in that moment, no evil existed in the world, or at least not in their home.

***

Sometimes Luna’s mind would play tricks on her. Sometimes her wild imagination kept her awake at night. She had a tendency to be haunted by the ghosts of the pasts. She found it hard to let go of old fears and heartbreaks. To this day every time she saw someone laughing, her first thought would be ‘they are laughing at me’. Hermione couldn’t relate. For her anxieties of the future were more common, and much more bothersome. But she always tried to support her the best way she could.

Luna woke up mere minutes before the first rays of sunrise touched the windows. She tossed and turned trying to fall asleep again, but it only made her feel worse. With a sigh she gently poked Hermione’s arm, and she immediately woke up, and looked at her, her eyebrows frowned.

-What is it? – Hermione asked.

Luna made a high-pitched, distressed noise. Words were difficult for her to process when she was worried.

-Dreams. Bad dreams. – Luna said, finally.

Hermione rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clocks. Six fifty three in the morning. There was no point in going back to sleep now.

-Dreams about what?

-Things that never was, never have been. – Luna told her, squeezing Hermione’s hand. – Parallel universes.

-Parallel universes?

-Yes. Other worlds, worlds that don’t look like ours. Foreign, and cursed. Not all of them, just the ones I saw.

-How can parallel worlds exist?

Luna blinked, gathering her thoughts. – They keep separating, with every decision that we make. Sometimes they are kind, and beautiful. Sometimes they are wrong. I saw a world where we never met, where you, and Ron, and Harry, and Neville haven’t been my friends. It was lonely. I don’t like lonely.

-Well, you aren’t alone now. – Hermione assured her, and they embraced.

-We’re Scully and Mulder, and we need each other. – Luna said.

Hermione smiled. – Sure, if you want to believe.

And together they watched the world drown in pallid pink shades of the young dawn.

***

Hermione looked to her right, then to her left, then to her right again. On one side of the table laid an enormous stack of parchment, her neat handwriting all over it. On the other was a second, even bigger stack, of blank parchment. It didn’t seem to diminish no matter how much time she spent working on it. And it was nearly lunch break.

Suddenly her decision to help everyone in the department seemed not very wise. She was trying to be nice, get people to like her, but now she just had a headache from all the paperwork. Perhaps she should turn people down, tell them to do their part themselves, but then they would dislike her even more. She stretched, and got up from the table. She will feel better after a break.

Before she had time to return to her self-appointed duties, there was a knock on the door. ‘Weird’, Hermione thought. Usually she didn’t have any visitors in the middle of the day, unless something bad has happened. And she definitely didn’t need any more bad in her life right now. Cautiously, she opened the door leading to her office.

Behind it was a short woman, casually dressed, with very long hair and dark circles under her eyes. She hid her hands in her pockets and coughed.

-Excuse me? – Hermione wasn’t sure about what to say. – Are you looking for something, or someone?

-Mmmm, yes. – The woman replied. – Can I come in?

Hermione shrugged. – I guess.

-Thank you. – She stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind her. – I’m Ruby, Ruby Whittaker. I’m here to collect the personal possessions of Sebastian Abbey.

-Oh. – Suddenly Hermione felt weak and pale, as if she alone was responsible for the man’s murder. – Are you his family member?

-Friend, or at least we used to be friends. We weren’t that close. – She quickly added.

-I’m sorry for your loss. – Hermione told her, as the only socially acceptable thing she knew for this situation. – Want a cup of tea?

-Sure. – Ruby said, taking a free seat near Hermione’s table.

 ‘Drinking tea is such a British thing’, Hermione thought to herself, mixing the brown liquid in her cup. ‘In case of emergency, put the kettle on’. She liked it though. There was something calming about the whole ritual, from boiling the water to adding milk and sugar. It brought confidence.

-I do not have the possessions here. – Hermione said. – We’ll have to descend two levels down for that. But I can talk to you about… it, answer any questions you might have.

Ruby was rather occupied by the photos on Hermione’s table: one with Ron and Parvati, one with Neville and Hannah, and the one where Harry and Ginny stood with all three of their kids, waving at the camera together.

-Are you Hermione Granger? – She asked, scratching her nose.

-Yes, yes I am. – She nodded.

-I have read that book about you all. I didn’t believe most of it, but I must say – your contribution to winning the war will never be forgotten.

Hermione felt awkward. It has been a lot of time since it happened, and less and less people would bring it up. This has been the first time in months.

-I was a second year student when it happened. I wanted to stay and fight but we were all evacuated. Sat it out safely while so many people died. It is sad. I just want you to know that people remember and people are grateful.

-Thank you. – Hermione finally made herself say something. She sipped her tea, hoping that part of the conversation was now over. – So, do you have any questions about the investigation?

-Not really. – Ruby replied. – I don’t have illusions about Seb. He was never a lawful citizen. It’s a shame though. He was a great student, brilliant at transfiguration. But he used his talents in the wrong way. He would sell transfigured stuff at the Diagon Alley for a lot of money, and as soon as the “happy customer” would come back home, the trinkets would turn back into a piece of rusty metal or something like that. He made a fortune on that. Too bad they took it all away when he went to Azkaban.

-Not all people have enough good in them. – Hermione said. – Doesn’t mean they deserve to die.

-Oh no, I’m not saying he deserved death. But I am not surprised he ended up like that. I really tried to help him, but he didn’t want my help. He just wanted more gold. – Ruby sighed. – I missed being his friend. I remember our time in the Hufflepuff dorm rooms, sharing secrets, exchanging chocolate frog cards. Good times.

Ruby looked up and saw a big Hogwarts banned hanging on the wall.

-I see you are nostalgic too. – She smiled.

-A little bit. – Hermione agreed.

-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandes. – Ruby read. – Funny thing, I still don’t know what that means.

-It means ‘don’t tickle a sleeping dragon’. – Hermione explained. – It’s Latin.

-Latin?

-Yes, like ‘veni vidi vici’, or ‘homo homini lupus est’, or… - Suddenly she felt as though a light bulb lit up in her mind. – Or ‘tacita interfectorem’. – She murmured.

-What does that mean?

-Silent killer. It means silent killer. – Hermione got up. – Sorry, I need to go now. Knock on someone else’s door, they can lead you to the right place.

And without a reply, she stormed off. As she ran across the corridors, thoughts swarmed once again in her head, pieces of a puzzle assembling into one picture. Everything made sense now: the pale grey skin, the horrible smell, even Luna’s comment. She practically forced her way into Avior’s office, and he nearly chocked on a slice of pie.

-Lunch is over. – She told him. – We’re going to the crime scene.

 Apparition didn’t go that well for Avior – a patch of his hair was removed in the process. Now, while Hermione examined every corner of the building, he stood in front of a dirty mirror and scratched the back of his head.

-You’re okay? – Hermione asked, passing by with a wand in her hand.

-Sure. – He didn’t sound very convincing. – I wanted to get a haircut anyway.

-I think we need to go down there again.

He nodded, wrapping himself in his coat for comfort. ‘Should have taken that job in an ice cream shop’ he said to himself as they climbed down the same wobbly staircase.

-It should be here somewhere. – Hermione seemed to be sniffing the air in the room, very focused on her task.

-What?

-Silent killer! Ugh, I should have known from the beginning. It’s obvious!

-Not to me.

She turned around and looked him in the eyes. – H2S, hydrogen sulfide. It’s a colorless, poisonous gas. It can kill in a minute, and it leaves no trace. Except for the smell.

-The smell?

-The smell of rotting eggs. It must be somewhere in here, that’s where we found him. – One more minute of searching, and finaly success. – Aha! – She exclaimed. – Here. – And she beckoned Avior with her finger.

He came closer and cautiously sniffed the air, then immediately made a step back.

-It’s disgusting.

-We better move away. – Hermione added, stepping back as well.

-How can you breathe that in for a whole minute?!

-Your nervous cell start to die – after ten seconds, you don’t even smell it anymore.

-Huh. – He scratched his head, which reminded him of the bold patch. – So he must ‘ave been trying to fix something in there, breathed in too much, and died.

-This thing leads straight to a container filled to the brim with garbage. Perfect conditions for the gas to be produced.

-So there is no murdered then?

-No. It was an accident.

They paused. The whole event still seemed rather tragic.

 -It’s not pointless. – Avior said, when they were back upstairs. – This house was already bought. If you didn’t solve this mystery, the next owners could have died as well, or people who came to clean that thing. You saved their lives.

-Thanks. – Hermione replied. – But it wasn’t me who solved it.

-No?

-It was my girlfriend.

***

The evening was pitch black and unusually warm. Outside dozens of moths flew in circles around a lamp, pushing and fighting for a better spot, looking for god knows what. The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and ginger – Luna was making an apple pie. She hummed a tune under her nose, hoping from one spot to another. Hermione sat opposite her, knitting a hat, or maybe a sock. She wasn’t sure yet. It didn’t really matter anyway, she just liked the sensation of having the soft material in her hands, and the motion of the fingers.

-I wanna go feed squirrels tomorrow. – Luna said, adding some last pinches of spices into the dough.

-No problem. – Hermione told her.

-If we feed them tomorrow, October will be sunny and not too dull.

-What about the birds?

-The birds can feed themselves. They are wizards and witches too.

-Really? – Hermione couldn’t help but smile.

-Not all of them. Robins are, and so are magpies and crows. But not sparrows. No, that’s silly.

The pie was in the oven, and Luna joined Hermione in her seat. Every now and then they would share a kiss, or laugh at a silly joke, or simply look at each other, and see sparks in each other’s eyes. Hermione was never good at feelings, but she knew one thing – this is where she belonged. With another person, in her own house, where it was safe to be who she is.

-What kind of baby names do you like? – Luna asked, completely out of the blue.

-You want kids?

-One day. I like flowery names, like Lilly. Could we name our kid Lilly?

-That’s what Harry’s daughter is called.

-Right. – Luna frowned. – Okay then, what about Poppy?

-That’s our old school nurse, Madam Pomfrey.

-Hmmm. – Luna paused, then smiled. – I know! Rose.

-Rose?

-Yeah, Rose. It’s a lovely name, isn’t it?

-Sure it is. – Hermione agreed. – We will call our daughter Rose then.

-Uh-hu. – Luna confirmed. – We can come up with more names later.

Hermione nodded, and continued to knit.

The world could be a nasty place sometimes, but it had nice things too, and it was hers – or, rather, theirs. And their world was bright, complicated, exciting and absolutely, mind-blowingly beautiful.