Luna excitedly stepped into the Ravenclaw common room, returning from the school owlery. She had just sent a letter from Blake to her father, Mr. Lovegood. The thought of soon seeing the harassing horsefly and possibly even a Scirehorn filled her heart with joy.
As she happily skipped toward the dormitory, two girls sitting nearby spotted her and immediately noticed her shoes.
"Didn't you hang her shoes on the ceiling in the corridor?" one girl whispered.
"Yes! I did!" the other girl replied, frowning. "How did she get them back?"
"Maybe they fell off?"
"Next time, let's hang them on the Whomping Willow!"
"How?"
"Just throw them over."
Meanwhile, in the boys' dormitory, Niffler Dabao stood on Blake's bed, pointing accusingly at him, squeaking in frustration. Since Blake had been absent for a long time, Dabao had claimed his bed, snuggling into the warm covers while munching on cheesecake.
Unaware, Blake sat down directly on the hidden Niffler—and the cheesecake. The cake flattened instantly, and Dabao barely avoided being squished.
"Ahem... Sorry, sorry!" Blake chuckled awkwardly. "I'll get you more cake next time. I didn't see you there... Wait, you were eating cheesecake in bed? Have you been eating here the whole time I've been gone?!"
Dabao's squeaking intensified.
"Zhizhizhi! (Do I look like someone who doesn't care about cleanliness? You disappear for ages, and then come back just to complain? Tell me! Do you have another Niffler outside?!)"
Blake, unfazed, slowly placed five shiny gold Galleons on the bed. Dabao's chatter ceased instantly. With astonishing speed, he swiped up the coins, stuffing them into his pocket before resuming his interrogation.
"Zhizhizhi? (Why are you back?)"
"I need to make it look like I'm resting in the dormitory while actually heading out."
Several days had passed since his talk with Luna in the Forbidden Forest. Now, Mr. Lovegood had finally replied, inviting him to visit. Blake needed to leave discreetly—Dumbledore had started keeping an eye on him since he was often missing when needed. To avoid suspicion, he had to pretend to be in his dormitory.
Dabao sighed. "Zhizhizhi...(Fine, go, but first clean the quilt!)"
Blake cast a quick cleaning spell before stepping through a dimensional portal and vanishing. Dabao, yawning, curled back under the covers.
In the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory, Luna put on slippers and headed to the bathroom for a bath. Soon after, the two girls from earlier sneaked in, eyeing Luna's shoes by her bed.
Grinning, they reached for them—when suddenly, the shoes jumped! One flew up and smacked a girl on the head.
"Ow!" she yelped as the shoes began kicking at them relentlessly.
Shrieking, the girls bolted out of the common room, the shoes bouncing after them. Only when they reached the hallway did the enchanted footwear retreat back inside.
At that moment, Luna returned, having forgotten something. She watched in delight as the shoes hopped back to her.
Picking them up, she was surprised to hear soft snoring from them.
Blake's words echoed in her mind: "A pair of shoes that will never be lost again!"
Smiling, she named them: "You shall be Brainless," she told the left shoe, "and you, Unhappy," she told the right one.
That night, in Devon's Ottery St. Catchpole, Blake appeared on a hillside overlooking the village. He spotted the Weasleys' home in the distance but focused on another, shorter hill where Luna's house stood—a peculiar cylindrical spire, almost like a castle turret with a crescent moon hanging behind it.
Blake mounted his broom and flew low, landing in front of the house. The yard was wild, filled with unusual plants, including a bush bearing little orange radish-shaped fruits—like the ones Luna wore as earrings.
A peculiar owl hooted at him from a tree, watching curiously.
At the entrance, three hand-painted signs were posted:
"The Quibbler – Editor-in-Chief: X. Lovegood."
"Please pick a bunch of mistletoe yourself."
"Do not touch the dirigible plums."
Blake gently pushed open the squeaky gate, approaching the door with an eagle-shaped knocker similar to the one in the Ravenclaw common room. He knocked, and soon, the door opened to reveal Xenophilius Lovegood, barefoot, in a stained nightgown, with wild white hair.
"Are you Blake Green, the one Luna wrote about?" he asked, peering at him.
Blake smiled. "Yes, sir. You can just call me Blake."
"Oh! Come in, come in!" Lovegood beamed. "Luna wrote highly of you! And you were in the Daily Prophet, weren't you?"
Blake chuckled modestly. "That was just luck."
Inside, the house was just as round as it looked outside, with furniture curving against the walls. Papers and manuscripts littered the tables. Upstairs, a machine creaked—Blake's True Eye revealed it to be a printing press spitting out fresh copies of "The Quibbler."
"Have a seat!" Lovegood said, hurriedly clearing the papers. "I heard you wanted to discuss 'The Quibbler' with me?"
Blake nodded. "Yes, that's why I'm here."
Lovegood was thrilled. "Wonderful! I'll make you some tea—my special Gurdyroot brew!"
As he bustled to the kitchen, Blake picked up the latest issue of "The Quibbler" and flipped through it, admiring Lovegood's dedication. Raising Luna on an obscure magazine alone couldn't have been easy.
Lovegood returned with two cups, pouring a dark purple liquid that smelled... suspicious.
Blake hesitated before taking a sip. The taste was indescribably complex—sweet, sour, bitter, and spicy all at once—but oddly enjoyable.
"Does this tea also refresh the mind?" he asked.
"Exactly!" Lovegood grinned. "It helps when I stay up late writing."
An idea formed in Blake's mind—magical drinks could be a profitable venture.
But first, he focused on "The Quibbler."
"Your magazine is brilliant, Mr. Lovegood. Why isn't it more popular?"
Lovegood frowned. "Good question! I wish I knew!"
Blake leaned forward. "If you trust me, I have a way to make 'The Quibbler' famous."
"Really?! That's fantastic!" Lovegood exclaimed, his excitement palpable.
Blake smirked. He had seen the power of media firsthand—how the Daily Prophet shaped public perception, how Lockhart had been undone by its reach. If he controlled his own media outlet, he could wield that influence himself.
The Daily Prophet was Grindelwald's tool, not his. He couldn't rely on it forever. But "The Quibbler"? That could be his.
Lovegood, unaware of Blake's deeper motives, was simply overjoyed.
Meanwhile, Blake silently noted how eerily similar his own ambitions were to those of a certain Dark Lord from the past...
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