The next day, Arthur tossed Ron a brand-new wand.
This wand was forged from the fusion of Ron's and Lockhart's wands, and its performance was slightly better than most.
The only problem was… its appearance.
Lockhart's wand had been pure white, while Ron's was brown.
Mixed together, the new wand turned into a sort of… curry color.
In other words, the color of poo.
But Ron couldn't care less. He held the new wand like a treasure, unable to put it down.
If it weren't for the school rules, he would've held his own personal fireworks show right in the corridor (the kind where his colorful spells explode like fireworks).
"How is it? Feels good in the hand?"
Ron nodded furiously.
"Thank you so much, Arthur!"
Arthur waved it off indifferently.
"Consider it an early Christmas present."
Last Christmas he'd nearly fried his brain trying to think of what to get everyone.
Now at least there was one less person to worry about.
Come to think of it, his birthday was coming up soon—right before Hermione's.
He still hadn't figured out what to give her.
As for Ranni, well, the calendar in the Lands Between wasn't the same as in the real world, so he had no idea when her birthday was.
He'd asked her once.
The little princess had replied, "Isn't my birthday the day you brought me into this world?"
That sentence hit Arthur right in the heart.
Crap, that's what being hopelessly smitten feels like!
When did this little princess get so good at flirting?
Affection level: MAX!
Ron never expected that the wand he'd just received that morning would come in handy that very afternoon.
Gryffindor's Quidditch captain, Oliver Wood, was leading his team down the path toward the pitch, full of energy as he explained the new summer training regimen he'd designed—earlier start times, tougher drills, longer sessions.
Second-year was going to be a lot busier than first-year, and he just hoped Harry could handle it.
But when they reached the gates of the Quidditch pitch, they ran smack into the Slytherin team.
"Hey! Flint, what are you doing here? I booked the pitch for Gryffindor today!" Wood barked.
"Relax, Wood," Flint drawled, pulling out a scroll. "We've got authorization."
Wood snatched it and unrolled it.
Sure enough, it was a permit signed by Snape himself—granting Slytherin the use of the field to train their new Seeker.
And judging by the team's brand-new gear, it was clear who that Seeker was:
Draco Lucius Malfoy.
His father had bought every player a Nimbus 2001, and with his godfather's help, Draco had secured the position.
The boy looked as smug as ever, sneering at Harry.
"My father can afford the best. Unlike some teams whose brooms don't even match—some of them probably borrowed from the school. I'm talking about you, Weasleys."
That last jab was directed at the Weasley twins, both members of the Gryffindor team.
Before the twins could retort, Ron—who'd just come to watch—was already fuming.
Sure, his brothers teased him plenty, but the Weasleys were a tight-knit bunch.
And nobody insulted his family in front of him.
Furious, he whipped out his new wand and cast "Eat Slugs!" at Draco.
Unfortunately, his aim was off. The spell hit Flint instead.
Seeing their captain get slimed, the Slytherins exploded.
They lunged forward with their brooms, fists flying.
They hadn't brought their wands—Quidditch regulations forbade them during practice.
Neither had the Gryffindors.
Only Ron, who wasn't officially on the team and had been too attached to his wand to leave it behind.
Thus began a chaotic brawl—
a full-on middle-school melee.
Punches, kicks, broom handles swinging—
the twins were whacking Slytherins over the head with their brooms.
The Slytherins wanted to retaliate in kind, but their brooms were new, and they couldn't bear to damage them.
In the end, Ron—armed and dangerous with his wand—single-handedly took down the entire Slytherin team.
When Madam Hooch arrived and saw the scene, she was livid.
She docked 100 points from each house and sent everyone to the infirmary.
(For the record, Colin Creevey had been the one to run off and tattle. No one knew if he managed to snap a photo before doing so.)
Later, when Snape found out, he made his team spend a week cleaning out jars of slug slime.
He wasn't mad because they'd fought—he was mad because they started it and still lost.
A disgrace to Slytherin, through and through.
When Hermione returned from fishing with Arthur by the Black Lake, she nearly fainted in the Great Hall.
The Gryffindor hourglass—empty.
All the points she'd painstakingly earned over the past few days—gone.
She glanced at Slytherin's hourglass. Also empty.
That helped her calm down a little.
…Who was she kidding? No, it didn't!
All the points she'd risked her dignity earning from Lockhart were gone!
If she knew any Dark Magic, she'd have cursed the culprits into next week.
Meanwhile, in the infirmary, Ron—miraculously uninjured—sneezed.
"Who did this?"
Hermione's voice was low and trembling with fury.
Arthur looked around. No Harry. No Ron.
Bingo. The guilty ones were obvious.
He gently patted Hermione's head and shared his guess.
Her expression flickered between calm and storm.
Then she smiled—that dangerous kind of smile.
"They'll pay for this."
Arthur sighed inwardly. Poor Harry. Poor Ron.
May the gods protect them.
When the two boys were released from the infirmary, they didn't dare face Hermione.
To their surprise, she didn't scold them.
She simply ordered them to earn back the lost points—
by memorizing Lockhart's entire set of textbooks.
According to her, Lockhart's class was the easiest way to rack up points.
(For the record, Arthur had never attended Lockhart's class again after the first session. He'd rather take Ranni on a date in the Forbidden Forest than sit through another farce.)
Lockhart eventually noticed two students missing from his roster and complained to Professor McGonagall.
She told him to bring it up with Dumbledore.
Dumbledore, in turn, told him it was up to the Gryffindor Head of House.
Both clearly knew how useless Lockhart was and had no interest in dealing with him.
McGonagall, in fact, felt relieved that her bright young wizards weren't wasting their ears on that blowhard.
So Arthur's truancy was quietly swept under the rug.
Lockhart, however, found a new "project."
When he went to McGonagall, she happened to be struggling to decide Harry and Ron's punishment.
Lockhart cheerfully volunteered Harry to help answer his fan mail.
McGonagall, unwilling to be too harsh, agreed.
To Harry, it was nothing short of psychological torture.
Ron, meanwhile, was assigned to polish every single trophy in the Trophy Room—
without magic.
Arthur had visited that room once last term. There were hundreds of trophies.
May Ron rest in peace.
Once the punishments were handed down, Hermione decided to let the incident drop.
Or so the boys thought.
Lately, Arthur had seen Hermione chatting quite often with the Weasley twins.
After a little digging, he learned she was learning pranking techniques from them.
Ah. So it wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
Arthur couldn't wait to see what came next.
That day, Arthur was by the Black Lake again, idly fishing with Ranni.
Hermione had gone off to the library to look up something—who knew what, considering Arthur's iPad already had every book imaginable.
Then, out of nowhere, Luna appeared.
"Luna? What are you doing here?"
Come to think of it, he hadn't seen her much since term began.
She was always vanishing, never coming to play with Ranni, even though the two got along well.
"I'm hiding from the Wrackspurts," Luna said in her usual airy tone.
Arthur frowned. He understood what she meant.
The Wrackspurts were creatures Luna believed in—tiny invisible things that floated into people's ears and scrambled their brains.
In plain language, she was hiding from her worries.
When he noticed her bare feet, he guessed the rest.
Luna's odd nature made her an outcast—especially among Ravenclaws, who prided themselves on logic.
Her talk of unheard-of creatures, none recorded in any book, made her seem strange.
They called her "Loony Lovegood."
They mocked her, shunned her, and sometimes even hid her belongings as a cruel joke.
Her missing shoes spoke for themselves.
Ranni followed Arthur's gaze and saw Luna's bare feet too.
"Where are your shoes?" she asked.
"They hid them," Luna said simply.
She didn't bother to lie.
Just as Ranni disdained deceit, Luna spoke plainly to those she trusted.
And clearly, Ranni was one of them.
Without a word, Ranni stood and walked toward the castle.
Arthur didn't stop her.
Those Ravenclaw girls really did need a lesson.
Come to think of it, both of the recent Defense Against the Dark Arts professors had been Ravenclaws—and both had turned out terrible.
Was Ravenclaw secretly the villain faction of this story?
"Where's she going?" Luna asked softly.
"To get your things back—and to make things right," Arthur replied.
"I see."
Luna said nothing more, sitting quietly by the water, gazing at the shimmering lake.
Arthur thought for a moment, then pulled out a book from his system inventory—
A Compendium of Curses.
(Nothing lethal, of course.)
"Maybe you could try a few of these. Give them a little… surprise."
Luna blinked at the title, unsure if she should accept.
She'd thought she was eccentric—but clearly, this senior was even more so.
"Don't worry," Arthur added. "None of these will kill anyone."
(They might just break a few bones—but with Skele-Gro around, that was no big deal.)
If Hermione knew such a book existed, she'd probably have accepted it gleefully.
But whatever she was plotting, Arthur wasn't worried—
sooner or later, he'd see the results on Harry and Ron's faces.
At last, Luna reached out and took the book.
"…Thank you."
"You're welcome. We're friends, aren't we?"
Friends.
It was a word Luna wasn't used to hearing.
She lived in Ottery St. Catchpole—the same wizarding village as the Weasleys, just up the hill north of their home.
Yet Ron had never even met her.
That was how reclusive she'd been.
Her childhood had been lonely; her mother had died in a magical experiment gone wrong, leaving her only her father for company.
Coming to Hogwarts, this was the first time someone had called her a friend.
"Friends… Does that include Ranni too?" she asked softly.
Well, it seemed she cared more about Ranni than him.
Still, Luna felt something warm inside her chest—
the same gentle feeling she'd once felt from her mother.
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