Chapter 346: At Luna's House
To this day, a folk rhyme still circulates across Britain:
Lose a nail, lose a horseshoe;
Lose a horseshoe, lose a warhorse;
Lose a warhorse, lose a king;
Lose a king, lose a war.
The saying originated in the time of Richard III, the last king of the House of York. At first, it was meant as a warning—details mattered, even the smallest ones.
Later, it became a perfect metaphor for the butterfly effect: how a trivial cause could spiral into catastrophic consequences.
And in Alexander Smith's eyes, Ron Weasley's fabricated tale about rescuing a Ravenclaw phoenix and an Invisible Beast was precisely that missing nail.
That single lie almost killed my Luna…
The thought made Alexander frown unconsciously. For a fleeting moment, he even considered whether Ron should be dragged along the next time he decided to make Harry suffer a little.
"Alexander, what are you thinking about?"
Luna puffed out her cheeks and poked him in the waist, her voice light and curious.
"It's nothing," Alexander replied, snapping back to reality. "Just… something that worries me."
"What is it?" Luna asked immediately.
For some reason, she felt he was thinking about that irritating Granger girl again.
Alexander hesitated for a moment, then spoke carefully.
"Some unscrupulous merchants like to sell Erumpent horns while claiming they're Crumple-Horned Snorkack horns."
"I'm worried your father might've bought the wrong one. After all, real Snorkacks are incredibly rare."
He lowered his voice, his tone gentle but serious.
"When you go home, you should be careful. Test it properly."
Seeing Luna's unfazed expression, Alexander reached out and lightly pinched her cheek.
"You have to promise me."
"O-Okay, okay!" Luna nodded, a little flustered, clearly taking it to heart.
As she nodded, Alexander subtly raised his left hand and traced an invisible sigil through the air.
The world shifted.
A breezy hillside unfolded beneath a pale sky, and beyond it lay the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, its crooked little houses scattered like toys beneath slanting beams of sunlight breaking through the clouds.
A slender white hand appeared briefly in midair, then vanished, leaving behind a wisp of translucent mist.
Carried by the wind, the mist drifted for miles before stopping in front of a tall, jet-black cylindrical house.
A pearly, ghostlike silhouette slowly condensed.
"So this is what a specter's body feels like…"
Alexander examined the chilly sensation with mild curiosity before turning his attention to the house.
An overgrown gate stood at the entrance, with three crooked, hand-painted signs nailed to it.
The Quibbler — Editor-in-Chief: X. Lovegood
Pick Your Own Mistletoe
Please Don't Touch the Dirigible Plums
Beyond the gate, a winding path stretched forward.
Strange plants flourished on either side. Among them grew bushes heavy with orange-red, radish-shaped fruits.
Dirigible Plums.
Even without studying Herbology, Alexander recognized them—after all, they were the same plants Luna wore as earrings. She once explained that they enhanced one's ability to accept unusual things.
Her father had even incorporated them into his headgear while attempting to recreate Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem.
Honestly, the garden felt more like the chaotic handiwork of a Hufflepuff than a Ravenclaw.
Devil's Snare coiled around dead tree roots nearby, and flanking the black front door stood two old crabapple trees bent by the wind. Their leaves had fallen, yet small red fruits still clung to the branches, interwoven with mistletoe wreaths strung with pearly white beads.
The Ravenclaw-style door—studded with iron nails and fitted with an eagle-shaped knocker—felt oddly out of place amid the wild growth.
White mist thickened around Alexander as his spectral form fully manifested.
Memories seeped into his mind.
Luna laughing as she picked Dirigible Plums.
Luna, arms scratched and red, reaching into a hollow stump to retrieve pulsating Devil's Snare pods.
Luna hiding beneath a tree, tears streaking her face.
A girl who grew like a weed—lonely yet resilient, eccentric yet gentle.
She was so captivating that Alexander nearly forgot why he had come.
Only when the last ray of sunlight vanished did he regain his composure.
The mist retreated into his body, and under the fading glow of dusk, Alexander passed through the door.
Luna's house was… unusual.
The kitchen greeted him immediately upon entry. The entire room was circular, making it feel as though he had stepped inside a giant pepper shaker.
Everything curved with the walls—the stove, sink, cupboards—all painted with bright flowers, insects, and birds in bold primary colors.
A cast-iron spiral staircase stood at the center, winding upward. Clanking and tapping echoed from above—clearly Xenophilius Lovegood's workshop.
Alexander had been prepared to meet Luna's father.
Even if the man couldn't see him, being here in person was different from distant perception.
Yet it seemed Xenophilius wasn't ready for supper and was still hard at work.
What troubled Alexander, however, was something else.
The horn.
The supposed Crumple-Horned Snorkack horn Luna mentioned was nowhere to be seen.
He remembered clearly—he had been the first to discover it years ago, placed casually atop a cupboard. The sight had nearly scared him half to death.
"Luna," Alexander suddenly asked back at Hogwarts, "when you say 'living room,' do you mean the first room after you enter?"
Luna stared at him, then reached out and touched his forehead.
"Alexander, are you ill?"
"The entrance is the kitchen," she said firmly.
Kitchen…?
Realization struck him like lightning.
Just like the Burrow.
"Then how do you know what my kitchen looks like?" Luna asked suspiciously, blinking her wide silver eyes.
"You mentioned it before."
"Oh!" Luna brightened instantly. "Alexander, the Snorkack horn—!"
As expected, the moment she heard those words, she forgot everything else.
Alexander floated upward.
And there it was.
Mounted proudly on the wall of the upstairs workroom—a massive gray spiral horn, vaguely resembling that of a unicorn.
No doubt about it.
That was his target.
End of Chapter
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