Luna’s throat tightened.
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
What was she supposed to say?
That she had forgotten?
That she had been so focused on buying her wand that she had completely put her younger sister’s birthday present out of her mind?
“I’m asking you a question!” Isabella’s voice suddenly rose, carrying undisguised impatience.
“The strawberry syrup Abrak told you to buy, and the comic Mad Muggle Martin—where did you put them?”
“I… I forgot…” Luna’s voice was as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, almost drowned out by the pounding of her own heartbeat.
“Forgot?” Abrak threw the newspaper onto the coffee table with a sharp smack.
“Luna, you really are becoming more and more useless.
You can’t even handle such a tiny matter.
What meaning is there in keeping you in this house?”
There was no anger in his tone, only a kind of almost cruel disappointment, like a blunt knife slowly cutting into Luna’s heart.
“I… I’ll go buy them right now!” Luna suddenly raised her head, a trace of urgency in her light gray eyes.
“I’ll go back to Diagon Alley right now.
I promise I’ll be back very soon!”
“No need.” Abrak waved his hand, as if shooing away an annoying fly.
“Rabbi has already gone.
I’d like to see what use there is for a piece of trash like you, coming back empty-handed.”
Rabbi was the family’s house-elf, quieter than the Malfoys’ Dobby, and even more obedient.
It always wore an old, patched pillowcase.
A small piece was missing from one of its ears; supposedly, a previous master had blasted it off with a wand when it made a mistake.
Luna’s face instantly turned deathly pale.
Was even a house-elf more “useful” than her?
Isabella stood up and walked over to her, looking down as she examined her.
Her gaze swept like a scanner from Luna’s pale face to the wooden box clutched tightly in her arms.
“What is that?” Her voice was full of suspicion.
“That thing you’ve been holding this whole time—is it that?”
Luna instinctively pulled the wooden box closer to her chest, her heart pounding wildly.
“No… nothing…”
“Nothing?” Isabella sneered and reached out to snatch it.
“Then let me see what kind of treasure could be more important than Jonah’s birthday present.”
“No!” Luna abruptly stepped back and hugged the wooden box tightly.
Inside was her wand.
Her only hope.
She absolutely could not let it be taken away!
Her reaction enraged Isabella.
“How dare you defy me!” Isabella’s expression instantly twisted into something hideous.
She removed a thin gold chain from her wrist, and at the end of the chain hung a small silver whip.
This was the “tool” she used to “discipline” disobedient house-elves and… Luna.
Crack!
The silver whip struck Luna’s arm with a sharp sound.
Luna’s body trembled violently.
It was a sensation she had long since grown familiar with.
But that familiarity did nothing to stop her from reading the undisguised disgust in her mother’s savage expression.
Crack!
Crack!
Two more lashes followed, landing on her back and leg.
She was still used to it, but the blows tore tiny slits into her clothes.
Cold air slipped through the openings, bringing a vague chill with it.
“Hide things from me, will you?
Disobey me, will you?” Isabella lashed her as she shrieked.
“You useless waste!
You Squib!
If not for the fact that you still had some use, we would have thrown you into the Muggle world long ago!”
Abrak sat on the sofa, watching it all with indifference.
He did not stop her.
He did not even furrow his brow, as though the one being whipped before him was not his daughter, but some insignificant piece of furniture.
Luna clutched the wooden box tightly, gritting her teeth without making a sound.
The feeling of being treated like garbage by the people closest to her was harder to endure than any physical pain.
She looked at her father’s cold face, then at her mother’s twisted expression, and the thought of “showing them her magic” in her heart was like a spark trampled underfoot—completely extinguished.
“Enough.” Abrak finally spoke, his tone full of impatience.
“If you beat her too badly, Rabbi will have to clean up the mess.
Make her leave.”
Isabella glared fiercely at Luna, put away the silver whip, and wiped her fingers with a handkerchief, as if she had touched something filthy.
“Get back to your attic!
Stop standing here like an eyesore!”
Luna did not move, nor did she speak.
She merely held the wooden box and stood where she was.
In her light gray eyes, the last bit of brightness was slowly going out, little by little.
Abrak frowned and was just about to lose his temper when Isabella leaned close to his ear and whispered, “About what you mentioned earlier—I think we can settle it.
Once Jonah’s birthday banquet is over, we’ll send her away.
That little town in the Muggle world, wasn’t it already arranged long ago?”
“Mm.” Abrak nodded.
His voice was not loud, but it reached Luna’s ears with perfect clarity.
“Keep her for another three months.
Once Jonah successfully enrolls at Hogwarts, send her away.
A Squib staying in the family will only disgrace us.”
The word “Squib” pierced Luna’s heart like a poisoned needle.
So… they had planned this all along.
So, while she had still been clinging to a faint illusion, believing that as long as she worked hard, as long as she regained her magic, she might earn even the tiniest bit of attention from her parents, they had already arranged her “ending.”
Expelled from the family.
Thrown into the Muggle world like garbage.
Luna’s body swayed, and her vision darkened for a moment.
She looked at the couple sitting on the sofa, smiling and chatting warmly, speaking of “investments,” “banquets,” and “Jonah’s future,” and suddenly felt that everything was unbearably unfamiliar, unbearably absurd.
These were her parents.
These were the parents who had once stayed by her bedside when she was sick, who had smiled and clapped when she first learned to walk, who had given her a moonstone necklace on her tenth birthday.
Now, all that remained was indifference, disgust, and calculation.
Her heart was completely dead.
Luna did not cry.
She did not make a scene.
She did not even show the slightest trace of anger.
She merely looked deeply at the two people in the living room, as if wanting to carve their faces into her bones.
Then she turned around, holding the wooden box in her arms, and walked toward the attic step by step.
Her steps were slow and steady.
There was no longer the lightness she had when she returned, nor the trembling she had felt while being whipped.
Every step she took on the carpet felt like a farewell to her past self.
In the corridor, Rabbi, the house-elf who had just returned, walked past with a tray in its hands.
On the tray were a bottle of bright red strawberry syrup and a brand-new comic book.
When it saw the wounds on Luna’s body and the hollow look in her eyes, its drooping ears trembled.
It stopped and spoke in a hoarse voice.
“Mi… Miss… does it hurt?
Rabbi… Rabbi has healing ointment…”
Luna shook her head and forced out a smile uglier than crying.
“It doesn’t hurt, Rabbi.
Thank you.”
She did not tell Rabbi that it was only because she had gotten used to it.
But it did not matter.
She would recover her magic soon.
Nor did she tell Rabbi that she was no longer a “miss.”
At least in this house, she had stopped being one long ago.
She continued upstairs and pushed open the small attic door, which creaked as it moved.
The attic was still dim.
Only a faint bit of light filtered in through a small window.
The air was filled with the smell of dust and old furniture, though she could no longer smell it.
Piles of miscellaneous items were stacked in the corners.
In the center stood a narrow bed with a rough mattress on it.
This was the “home” she had lived in for the past two years.
Luna walked to the bedside and carefully placed the wooden box on the bed before opening it.
The wand lay quietly inside.
Its ink-black body gleamed with a cold, hard luster beneath the faint light.
She reached out and gripped the wand.
This time, there was no excitement.
No tears.
Only an almost calm certainty.
Her parents did not believe in her?
That was fine.
Her family could not tolerate her?
That was fine too.
She had a wand.
She had magic.
She still had Rabbi.
She now had the foundation she needed to stand on her own in this world.
If the Foley family did not want her, she could leave on her own.
If her parents refused to acknowledge her, she could prove herself on her own.
Luna tightened her grip on the wand, walked to the small window, and pushed it open.
The wind from outside poured in, stirring her long silver-white hair.
Strands brushed across her cheeks, leaving only the faintest sensation behind.
She looked into the distance.
Her gaze passed over the manor walls, through the dense forest, and toward the direction of Diagon Alley.
There, there was an ancient shop.
There was a mysterious owner dressed in black robes.
There was a contract concerning “wishes” and “prices.”
“When you have another desperate wish, this place will naturally open its doors to you.”
The shopkeeper’s words seemed to echo beside her ear once more.
Luna took a deep breath and tightened her grip around the Inkshadow Wand in her hand.
Her wish now was very simple.
To survive.
To take this wand, this hard-won magic, and live well.
As for the Fawley family…
She looked one last time at that magnificent yet ice-cold main house, and the corners of her lips curved into a faint, resolute smile.
From this moment on, whether that place rose in glory or fell into ruin, it had nothing to do with her, Luna Fawley, ever again.