Art and Life

Portrait of the Artist as a Living Woman

Harry was, oddly enough, not feeling that nervous. Under other circumstances he would have been wetting himself at the thought of being introduced to Luna's parents - parent, he remembered, kicking himself mentally for forgetting - but this was only his first formal introduction. He had spoken to Luna's father in passing on a couple of occasions when he had visited their house, and he had seemed a nice enough man. Not quite as blatantly surreal as Luna, but still eccentric enough in his own way to be engaging. A fairly nice fellow, all things considered.

Luna's keys rattled in the front door, and it was pulled open. Luna had entered the house via (or so it seemed) an invisible set of stairs leading to her bedroom window. Harry had declined the dubious pleasure of walking on something he couldn't see, and so Luna had to let him in from inside the house. Harry grinned a cheesy grin as he saw Luna standing there. He couldn't help it; she just made him feel so... happy.

After a few seconds, Harry decided that Luna was once again making him nervous. As he had gazed devotedly into her face, her eyes had been running critically up and down, taking in his entire body. Harry somehow felt that he was being tested on something. "Er... Luna?" he said.

It took Luna a second to regain concentration. "Hmm? Yes?" she said, here eyes flicking back up and fixing Harry with in intense stare.

"Can I come in?" Harry gestured uncertainly at the door.

"Oh, of course. Ni emoc." Luna stood aside, and grandly motioned to the effect that Harry should enter.

"What was that?" Harry enquired, bemused.

"It's 'come in' backwards," Luna explained.

"Ah, of course. How could I have missed that?"

Harry moved into Luna's front room. The Lovegood house was nothing like either Privet Drive or The Burrow. It was cramped and crowded; the floor was covered in cardboard boxes and wooden crates, the walls were hidden by overflowing bookshelves, and back issues of The Quibbler littered the floor, as they did in most of the rooms of the house. Harry cautiously shifted a pile of impressive-looking paperwork off the sofa and onto the floor, where it fell over into another heap, and took a seat in its' place.

"The father's not in right now," Luna observed, moving through the debris like a small blonde whirlwind. "You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"

"Er... no." Harry was bemused. "Should I?"

"Not really." Luna shrugged. "I just thought you might." Had anyone else but Luna asked the question, Harry would have asked why she felt he might know this. He was, however, gradually becoming accustomed to the Lovegood thought process. Luna, it seemed, had a refreshingly open mind. She took the view that anything was possible, and as everything that was possible eventually happened somewhere, she concluded that it might well happen here. It made no less sense than anything else Harry had come to believe in over the past 17 or so years of his life.

"Maybe he left a note?" Harry suggested. Luna, who had taken a seat on one of the crates, bounced to her feet again.

"Genius idea!" she cried, pressing her middle finger against the centre of Harry's forehead. She always did this when he had a good idea. It may have had some mystical significance. "Let's check his conspiracy room. He usually loses things in there if he wants me to find them."

"Conspiracy room?" This was new to Harry. So far he'd only seen Mr. Lovegood's code room for deciphering hidden messages in Ministry press releases, and the nature room for recording sightings of impossible creatures.

"Yep. It's upstairs. Come on." Harry walked with some trepidation through the trail of destruction that marked Luna's path of exit through the junk. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he caught a glimpse of the hem of Luna's robe flying out behind her as she turned the corner and charged off down the landing. Harry ascended the staircase, turned to follow Luna, and discovered that she had in fact been coming back to see what he was doing. The pair of them sprawled at the top of the stairs.

"Oh God, I'm sorry," Harry apologised automatically, despite the fact that this wasn't in fact his fault.

"It's alright," Luna replied, brushing her hair out of her face. "It could've happened to anyone."

Luna seemed in no hurry to rise. Harry felt that somehow he ought to hint that she should stand up, but the right words failed to come. The fact that he was on his back with Luna Lovegood's body pressing against him was contributing to this in no small part; however, Harry did think that if the two of them didn't stand up soon, things might get embarrassing. He shifted as much as he could, covertly attempting to adjust his jeans.

"Are you alright down there?" Luna asked, raising herself up slightly on both arms and peering down the gap between their two bodies.

"Fine thanks!" Harry replied, a shade too quickly. "Nothing wrong here!"

A slow smile spread across Luna's face. "Really?" she asked, sounding genuinely pleased.

"Really," Harry repeated. "Everything is just fine and dandy. Can we stand up now?"

"Of course," Luna replied. "You only had to ask."

Harry accepted her proffered hand to help himself up. As he adjusted his T-shirt he caught Luna staring at him quite intently. And not at his face. "Hey!" he cried, swiftly adjusting his jeans even more.

"What? What?" Luna seemed distracted for a second. "What did I do?"

"Don't stare like that!" Harry was blushing furiously. "It's not nice!"

Luna considered this statement for a second. Then with an air of total certainty, she declared, "Yes it is."

* * * *

Harry was... not surprised, as such. The interior of the conspiracy room was certainly surprising, but it was the sort of surprise he'd been expecting. There was a huge table in the middle of the floor, covered in assorted bits of paper. Harry could see newspaper clippings, photographs, even just bits of scrap paper with rough notes jotted down on them. However, despite all the clutter on the table, it was the far wall that caught his attention. Hundreds of scraps of paper, possibly as many as were on the table, were attached to it in seemingly no pattern at all. Translucent lines, some red, some blue, some in colours Harry couldn't have trusted himself to identify, stretched all over the place, connecting some bits of paper to others, criss-crossing seemingly at random. As he watched, he was sure that some of the lines moved.

"It's good, isn't it?" Luna said, smiling happily. "It's based on a charm the Aurors use for collating evidence. My mother modified it as bit for father's use. Before she died, that is."

Harry wrinkled his brow. That was a strange comment, even by Luna's standards. "Well, I suppose she hasn't done much since she passed on," he observed.

Luna nodded. "Yes, it is a bit harder now, but she muddles through when she can. Hey, look at this." Before Harry could question that even more enigmatic statement, Luna had grabbed a drawing pin and one of the bits of paper from the table and attached it to the wall. As Harry watched, several lines of various colours sprang from the piece of paper and threaded their way through the maze of paper on the wall. It was rather impressive. He felt that he ought to say something to indicate this.

"That's rather impressive," Harry said.

"Isn't it just?" Luna sighed, and shook her head fondly. "Poor daddy."

"Why 'poor daddy'?" Harry enquired.

"Well, he does rather waste his time on these conspiracies. It amuses him, but it's mostly nonsense, really."

Harry was mildly astonished. "I thought you agreed with him about... well, everything."

"I have to support him in public of course."

"And whenever Hermione's there."

Luna nodded seriously. "And whenever Hermione's there, yes. But father's been looking at conspiracy theories since he was fifteen, he's forty-two now, and he's only ever discovered three genuine conspiracies. It's quite sad, really."

"Only three?" Harry was intrigued. "What were they?"

"Well," Luna said, perching on the table and knocking a few bits of paper onto the floor, "there was Fudge And The Goblins, then there was The Peculiar Incident Of Croker And The Disappearing Dragons, and before that was The Astonishing Case Of The Comet, The Bicycle And The Second Goblin Rebellion, which if ever revealed and taken seriously would bring down the government and institute a time of crisis not seen since the Swiss Invasion."

There was a brief pause.

"Wow," Harry said, mildly overawed. "And your Dad really found out all that stuff?"

"Yup." Luna beamed proudly. "When you understand what's been going on behind the scenes in the MoM, a lot of things fall into place. The Second Goblin Rebellion, well, if that came out, people would know the truth about why Fudge didn't want to believe that Voldemort was coming back."

"And why-"

"I can't tell you. Mother swore me and father to secrecy."

"Yeah, that reminds me," said Harry, "what were you saying earlier about your mother working after she died?"

"What?" Luna looked baffled for a moment. "You mean I didn't tell you?"

"Well, no. Otherwise I wouldn't be asking."

"I see." Luna pondered this for a second. "In that case, I'd better show you. Come on."

Once again, Harry was left standing as Luna shot past him. She was a lot more energetic these days, Harry noted. He had no idea why.

Luna's head poked back through the door. "Come on!" she instructed, and disappeared again.

"Coming," Harry called after her, making haste to follow her back down the stairs again. Luna, who was waiting for him at the bottom, led him through the living room, through the kitchen, and towards a door Harry hadn't really registered before. Luna grabbed a key off a hook on the doorframe, and turned it in the lock. Then, as Harry caught up with her, she swung the door open.

Inside, the room was bare. There was nothing on the floor, not even any untidy piles of issues of The Quibbler. The walls, however, were covered in empty portraits. One was of a room filled with peculiar pieces of equipment; Harry took this to be a laboratory of some kind. Another displayed a kitchen, old-fashioned pots and pans hanging from the walls. Yet another was of a bedroom, another showed a bathroom, and so on until his eyes reached the painting at the far end of the room. It was of a library, in the grand old-fashioned style. Bookshelves lined the walls, the titles of the volumes neatly picked out in great detail. A large fireplace was situated in one of the walls, its' grating currently empty. A comfy chair and a coffee table sat in the centre of the room. And, dozing peacefully on that chair, was a blonde-haired woman.

"Oh my God." Harry was almost dumbstruck. "She... Is that..."

"Yes?" Luna murmured, taking care not to raise her voice.

"Is that... your mother?"

Luna nodded gravely. "It was very expensive getting it done," she said. "The likeness is exact. The slightest flaw and she wouldn't have been herself."

"My God..."

"Father took about a hundred different photographs of her when she got a place on the Experimental Charms Committee. Every angle he could think of, close ups, wide shots, hair up, hair down, eyes open, eyes shut, standing up, lying down, sitting down, dressed, undressed, dressed in different clothes, with her wand, without her wand, holding her wand in different positions..."

"Yes, yes," Harry hastily interjected before Luna could continue. "So... your mother... she's alive in there?"

"To all intents and purposes, yes. She still has to eat and sleep and use the toilet and that sort of thing, it's a side effect of this sort of painting, but she can only do those things in other paintings. Hence, the whole series."

"Wow." Harry stared in frank wonderment. "And we can talk to her?"

"That's why we're here, isn't it?" Luna moved across to the painting, Harry following her, and knocked very gently on the edge of the frame. "Mother? Wake up, mother."

Mrs Lovegood stirred. Now Harry came to look closer, she seemed very young. In fact, she barely seemed older than her own daughter. Slowly she opened her eyes and focussed on Luna. "Yes, dear?" she said. Harry was rather surprised; Mrs Lovegood had the poshest accent he'd heard in a long time.

"Sorry to wake you mother, but I've brought Harry to meet you." Stepping to one side, Luna gestured for Harry to come forward.

"Ah," Luna's mother said as Harry moved into her field of vision. Harry felt suddenly uncomfortable; now he knew where Luna had got her stare from. Mrs Lovegood's gaze was less critical than Luna's, but twice as inscrutable. She also didn't seem to be blinking at all.

"Hello," Harry said weakly in an effort to break the silence.

"Hello, dear," Mrs Lovegood said, breaking off her stare and smiling warmly. "How are you?" Then, before Harry could answer, "No, don't tell me... nervous. Right?"

Harry half-smiled. "Just a bit," he replied.

Mrs Lovegood nodded. "Thought so. Luna says you get nervous very easily."

"Did she?" Harry glanced sideways at Luna. "Do you talk to your mother a lot about me?"

"I like to be kept abreast of developments in my daughter's life," Mrs Lovegood said. "To tell you the truth, I thought she was gay until she met you."

"You did?"

"She did," Luna confirmed. "It's a Ravenclaw thing. Did you know that fifty percent of the gay people at Hogwarts are Ravenclaws? And eighty percent of the bisexuals as well. It's an interesting House."

"Really?" A sudden stab of doubt entered Harry's mind. "Are you absolutely sure you're not gay?"

Luna rolled her eyes in a particularly expressive manner. "As I have pointed out to everyone who knows me, it seems, I am bisexual. I am not in any way gay, except during the full moon when there's a 'U' in the day. But everyone's gay then." Harry opened his mouth to ask another question, but Luna anticipated him. "It's a Ravenclaw thing," she explained. "We usually keep the gayness under wraps during lessons."

Mrs Lovegood had turned her gaze onto Harry once again. "You're not heterosexual, are you?" she asked in a vaguely accusatory tone.

"Well... yes..." Harry admitted, suddenly feeling guilty for no reason that he could think of.

"Dear God." Mrs Lovegood buried her head in her hands. "My daughter is involved with a straight Gryffindor. Could things get any worse?"

"Er... Look, I'm sorry..." Harry's hapless apology was cut off by a sudden gale of laughter from the portrait.

"I'm joking, you silly boy." Mrs Lovegood smiled warmly at him. "The name's Angela. I'd shake your hand, but I'm dead and a portrait. So that's not quite practical right now."

"Yeah, that does spoil it rather." Harry smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

"What for?" Mrs Lovegood raised an immaculately drawn eyebrow. "I may be dead, but I'm catered for perfectly well. Plus I'll never grow old, and I never need to cut my hair or trim my nails or any stupid things like that. It's not a bad life in here."

"I suppose it must be."

"Anyway, Luna tells me you play Quidditch. What position are you in?"

Harry beamed. This was a subject he could talk about. "Seeker," he replied. "I'm on the House team."

"Really?" Mrs Lovegood looked interested. "When did they take you on?"

"First year."

"First year? Good heavens!"

"Even Mum wasn't on the House team 'til second year," Luna interjected, "and she was the..." A moment was taken to consider the next statement. "The fifth best Keeper in the history of Ravenclaw."

Now it was Harry's turn to look interested. "You were?"

"Dear, how do you think I got a figure like this?" Mrs Lovegood raised the front of her blouse slightly, displaying a few inches of flat, toned stomach. "Hard work? God no, I just got into the habit of taking exercise to be fit for matches."

"It's how she met Dad," Luna said proudly, as if it were somehow a great achievement.

"Really?" Harry asked. "How was that?"

"Well," Mrs Lovegood began, "back in the day Rufus was pretty much the ultimate geekboy. He looked a lot like you, actually; wiry sort of fellow, glasses, untidy hair, although his was a lot longer than yours. He was damn sexy." Harry nodded, swelling slightly at the implied compliment. "Anyway, after matches I always got really bad cramp in my legs. Rufus had a reputation for being something of an expert in the medical side of things, so I went to him to see if he had a cure. And things sort of went on from there."

"And he gave you a potion or something?"

"Massage, actually. Far more pleasant."

"It's one of the father's better talents," Luna said. "He says he's going to teach me how to do it one day."

"When you're old enough," added Mrs Lovegood.

"When I'm old enough," Luna repeated.

Mrs Lovegood smiled again. "I don't suppose you know how to give massages, do you dear?" she asked Harry.

"Er, no," Harry replied, caught slightly off-balance by the question.

"No? Pity. Still, I suppose you'd need to get them more than giving them. Hard game, Quidditch."

"I don't get cramp much," Harry said.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't. Bet you keep fit, though," Mrs Lovegood added, giving Harry a sly grin. "In fact, let's see. Show us your stomach."

"What?" Harry was rather shocked.

"Come on. I've shown you mine; it's only fair you show me yours..."

Slowly, Harry lifted the front of his T-shirt. As Mrs Lovegood had predicted, he was in very good shape.

"Nice, isn't he?" Luna said, beaming proudly. "You could grate cheese on his stomach muscles." She made enthusiastic hand gestures to that effect around the general area of Harry's abdominal muscles.

"Thankyou Luna," Harry said, dropping the T-shirt back into place and firmly moving her hand away.

"I don't suppose there's any portraits of you hanging around, are there?" Mrs Lovegood said, shooting what Harry was sure was a lecherous glance in his direction.

"Not as far as I know..."

"Pity, that. We could spend more time together." Before Harry could think of a reply, Mrs Lovegood rose to her feet. "And now I'm sure you two lovebirds have better things to do than spend your time talking to a portrait of someone's dead mother." It's the most interesting thing I've done all week, Harry thought. "Rufus said he wouldn't be back for about a day or so, he's gone off on some mission somewhere. Something to do with The Most Perplexing Case Of The Mysterious Arab And The Cauldron Bases. So, you'll have the house to yourselves for a while."

"Alright," Luna replied, taking Harry by the elbow. "See you later, mother."

As Luna shut the door to the room, Harry took a seat at the kitchen table. "So," he said, "that's your mother then."

"Yup," Luna confirmed.

There was a pause, while Harry wondered how to phrase his next question.

"Was she..." He decided to just blurt it out. "Was she flirting with me?"

Luna nodded, calm and placid. "Probably."

"Why?"

"Well," Luna said, "I'd say that it was because she thinks you're as sexy as I do."

"But she's married, isn't she?"

"Not officially. She is dead, after all. And a portrait."

Yeah, but... she's your mum, Luna!"

"Only sort of. She's only twenty in the portrait."

Harry looked rather surprised. "She is? Er, was? Is? Which is it?"

Luna nodded, ignoring Harry's uncertainty. "Dad took all the pictures of her when she joined the Charms Committee, the portrait was painted from the pictures, and I hadn't been born when the pictures were taken. So the woman in those pictures isn't physically my mother."

"Right." There was a pause. "So... your father's gone for the day."

"So he is."

Harry glanced around uncertainly. "What are we going to do?"

Then Luna grinned, and it was her mother's grin; broad, mischievous and full of life. "Don't worry," she said. "I'm, sure we'll think of something."