(Leaky Cauldron) A Warm and Tender Hand [Luna, Mr. Ollivander]

[div style="width:50%;opacity:0.5;font-size:0.85em;border-bottom:1px solid #ffffff;"]SATURDAY, 29 SEPTEMBER 2001, 11:59 AM[/div]

[div style="width:460px;font-family:Abel;font-size:14px;text-align:left;"]“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.”[span style="display:none;"] @Luna Lovegood [/span]
― Henri Nouwen[/div]

"Egg, leek, and mushroom pastry, and a tall goblet of pumpkin juice, please, and if you would kindly make sure my tab will cover for today," Mr. Ollivander gave his order to the young man that came up to his table, not needing to look at a menu. Nor was it abnormal for him to be ordering a breakfast dish so close to lunch time, not at the Cauldron. Even if he wasn't a well-known wizard all over Great Britain and Ireland and especially here in Diagon Alley where his shop was located, Garrick was a regular at the Cauldron and had been for, well, decades really. Over the years he had changed from a solitary diner to a husband, and then to a family man. And while he still came in with his wife and children when they were available, now every other other Saturday he came in to spend time with one of his dearest friends.

Had it not been a respectable man like Mr. Ollivander, people would have thought it was fishy or even creepy that an 83-year-old man was having a private meal with a 20-year-old woman. Also had it not been Mr. Ollivander, people might have wondered how he could put up with the girl's "oddities." But in fact Garrick was quite fond of the girl, and not just because of the pity he had always felt for her since she came in for her first wand all those years ago, accompanied by her equally unusual father and being quite blase about her mother's death two years past. Not even just because of what an inexpressible comfort to him the girl had been while they'd shared captivity in the Second Wizarding War. No, Garrick Ollivander had come to appreciate Luna Lovegood's refusal to be confined by the norms of wizarding society, her wide-eyed wonder about the world, and her open, friendly nature to all. The disparity between their ages was irrelevant; they were fellow Ravenclaws and, in an unusual way, kindred spirits.

The waiter smiled at Mr. Ollivander and went over to the counter, stopping by the bar to pass the wandmaker's question about his tab along before he took the order into the kitchen. The barkeep caught Ollivander's eye and gave him a thumbs-up, indicating that his credit at the Cauldron was still well over what today's bill was. Sighing, Garrick leaned back and closed his eyes, drifting into a state of half-conscious relaxation while he waited for his special guest.

Luna made a point to be in the country at noon on alternate Saturdays. In the past few months she had traveled to Sweden, Argentina, Italy, Egypt, and even places as strange as Wales. She was looking for something, anything, that she could claim as her own. But discovering an undiscovered magical creaturr was proving to be a sommewhat difficult task. All the hours spent and the miles traveled had earned Luna nothing in return. Nothing except experience and lessons learned about where things were not, of course.

Still, despite her extensive amounts of disappointment, Luna had an ear-to-ear smile on her face. She alternated between skipping and walking down the sidewalk, making her way to the Leaky Cauldron via the muggle side of London. She had taken the train in from Devon, quite enjoying the odd ways that some people preferred to travel. The Underground was easy enough to navigate and people seemed to give her a wide bearth, making her jaunt to the pub even easier.

That door would seem so outdated for a place so central in London, but to the many witches and wizards that used it, it was a welcome sight. She pushed it open carefully and stepped inside, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly overdressed in her exceedingly striped sweater dress that had been keeping her so warm in her travels but clashed incredibly with the warmth in the pub. Pushing her sleeves up past her elbows, the girl spotted her friend and skipped over to him, leaning down to give him a tight hug before he had the chance to get up from his seat.

She settled into the seat across from him and rested her chin in her hands, propping her elbows up on the table in front of her. “Hello, Mr Ollivander,” she said in her usual dreamy tone. “The weather is so lovely today, don’t you think?” The weather was not, in fact, lovely as it had been pouring from Ottery St. Catchpole all the way to London and her mud-splattered Wellies were plenty of proof to that fact. “It upsets the germumblies, though, the poor things.” The germumblies were well on their way south for the winter, but the rain fogged up their sense of smell, which was the cornerstone of their navigation abilities.

The man was back to take her order almost as soon as she sat down (“a full English and a mug of hot spiced cider, thank you”) but her attention was soon returned to the wizard across from her. “I nearly broke my wand again,” she continued with a sheepish smile. “But I was lighting a fire the muggle way and it just looks so similar to the kindling.” She didn’t mean this as an insult at all, rather the opposite, and it was on the tamer side of things when it came to possible wand-breaking scenarios for her.

A familiar set of arms wrapped around his torso, drawing Mr. Ollivander out of his reverie of private thoughts and informing him that Luna had arrived. He patted her arm before she released him, since hugging her back would have been awkward at this angle, and then smiled at the pleasant beam on her face as she slid in across the table from the wandmaker. "Hello there Miss Lovegood," he said merrily by way of reply. "Rain is one of those delightful things that is good for vegetables, and the animals that eat those vegetables, and the animals that eat those animals," he chuckled, paraphrasing Dr. Johnson's centuries old quote. As usual he let the comment about the "germumblies" pass without comment.

The waiter returned to take Luna's order, which she gave, and then immediately she launched into another of her adventures during which - as Garrick had come not to be surprised by - the new wand he had made for her a few years back was put in grave risk. For all that other wandmakers might be offended at how the witch seemed to be taking the wand for granted, Mr. Ollivander knew that this dreamy, haphazard, inattentive behaviour was all part of Luna's essential personality and he wouldn't change it for the world. Besides, she had been in other, more nearly-disastrous scrapes with her wand. One time she had brought the wand back and displayed it Garrick after retrieving it from the mouth of a teething baby mooncalf, still covered in a thick film of saliva.

"I'm getting far too old to keep making replacement wands, young lady," Ollivander pretended to scold her, but there was a twinkle in his eye as he said it. "If you keep this nonsense up you're going to end up with a wand being made by my son or my other apprentice... or my daughter, now that she's graduated from Hogwarts this last spring," he added. "If she decides to join the family business, that is. She's rather fond of you and looks up to you, so she might take up a career in Magizoology instead."

“I’m just keeping you on your toes, sir,” Luna replied with a sweet smile, though she was certainly distracted by his comment about having to have someone else make her next wand. She was sure her grandparents -- or maybe their parents -- had needed to have their wands made by a different Ollivander, but as far as she was aware there were no other wandmakers for her. Maybe she ought to start being a little more careful with her things. Or maybe he could just go ahead and make a few spares for her. She could ask him later.

She nodded as he spoke about his children and his apprentice, lighting up when he mentioned his daughter wanting to be a magizoologist. While Luna might not qualify in some peoples’ minds as a magizoologist, she certainly considered herself a part of the field. “She can come on an expedition with me!” Luna offered excitedly. She had enjoyed taking friends along with her this past year, even if they hadn’t been even slightly successful in finding anything. But she had still put each one to task and if they hadn’t enjoyed themselves, Luna certainly hadn’t noticed.

“I think I’m done going North for the season,” she continued thoughtfully, pausing only to look up with a smile as her drink was delivered. She wrapped her hands around the warm mug and kept on. “But Dad just heard reports of fuzzy cerberuses in Greece, so I might take a trip there soon.” She paused again to take a quick sip of her cider. “I’m heading to Nigeria tonight, actually, for the gala.” She nodded rather solemnly, assuming Mr Ollivander had heard the news about the tragedy that had befallen poor Snuggles the Rompo. She was going to protest it, of course, but she was heading into it with a very peaceful mind.

Garrick's face continued to beam as Luna responded to his mention of Lesleigh's interest in Magizoology. Garrick was fond of both his children, of course, but he was especially invested in - and concerned about - his youngest, who maintained her unusual and thus far incurable illness, but still fought to live a generally ordinary life. Or extraordinary, as Ollivanders always did in one way or another. "An expedition would be delightful and I'm sure she would enjoy going on one with you," Garrick continued in the vein of their discussion. "If I can convince Korinne to let her go, of course."

Their ordered beverages were brought to the table just as Luna changed the topic of conversation to the death of well-known Snuggles, and Garrick shook his head gravely. "The poor creature," Garrick said before taking a drink of his pumpkin juice - spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg, bless Tom's heart - and then after setting it down went on, "An absolute shame the way the zoo outbreak was handled, disgraceful poor care. Not sure if this gala is really meant to be beneficial or if it's just a political stunt to appease everyone who blames the staff for letting Snuggles out of her paddock." He made a mild snorting sound to indicate his derision and sighed.

The conversation couldn't carry on for too long yet again; the food arrived with all the practised presentation of the staff to two such well-known habitués, Garrick's pastry of larger size than less frequent visitors received, and Luna's wide meal took up half the table. How on earth the small girl could possibly down all that food was beyond Garrick, but it wasn't the first time she'd devoured - daintily and sneakily, making the feat even more unbelievable - the entire confection and probably wouldn't be the last.

"Have you thought about what you're going to say at the gala?" he asked before placing a forkful of eggy mushroom into his mouth. He had no clue if Luna had been asked to speak or not in an official capacity, but if she was going, it was a certainty that people were going to hear her say something.

“I’m sure Dad would be willing to talk to Mrs Ollivander and reassure her that it isn’t anything but safe.” The older Lovegood had accompanied Luna on the first few expeditions she had made as an adult, but eventually the needs of the magazine had won out over ensuring his daughter stayed safe. Not that she wasn’t staying safe, mind, she was just capable of doing it without his help. Plus, her father had made a living running a magazine that reported on things as they actually happened. He really was the best authority on truth there was.

Luna nodded solemnly again as Mr Ollivander echoed her own unspoken concerns about Snuggles. “It’s a political stunt disguised as a political benefit.” She had lowered her voice, not knowing who was around to overhear her. She was sure that nothing good could come out of the gala -- besides whatever change she could stir up while she was there. No amount of galleons they could raise in the course of the night would bring Rompo back, and unless something real happened, it was likely to happen again. Maybe not in Nigeria, maybe not a rompo, but there would be something. There always was. The animals deserved more than that.

She spooned her baked beans onto her toast -- she appreciated that they were served separately here, letting her have control over how soggy her meal was -- and took a large bite before setting her cutlery aside to take another sip of her drink. “I have,” she nodded, wiping her mouth with her napkin before she continued. “I don’t think I’ll actually need to say much at all. I just want to bring attention to Snuggles and make sure he isn’t forgotten through all of it. I’ve made a banner.” She had also made herself a dress, stitched together from press clippings about the tragedy, and would be wearing a tiara of sorts that spelled out Snuggles’ name.

“Will you be attending?” She knew that Mrs Ollivander liked these sorts of things, though she was almost certain that it was for a different reason than Luna had. Still, it would be nice to see her again, of course, even if she would have to cut any small talk short to start her protest. She speared another large forkful, sausage and egg and toast, and chewed it thoughtfully, rolling over her plan for the night one more time in her head.