That night, Maka slept in Xenophilius's workroom.
Using an old door panel he no longer needed, Xenophilius had put together a makeshift wooden bed for him. Two blankets and a quilt were layered beneath him as a mattress, and another quilt covered him from above. It sounded a little pitiful when described out loud, but in practice it wasn't uncomfortable at all.
Maka slept well.
The next morning, Luna came to wake him. Truthfully, Maka had grown used to staying up late and sleeping in, and changing that overnight was… not going to happen.
"Get up. The sun's already up," Luna said, reaching out to tug at his blanket.
Maka stayed curled under the covers, completely unmoved.
"The sun is already up!" Luna raised her voice, trying very hard.
"The sun isn't going to rise anymore," Maka mumbled in his sleep.
Luna stared silently at the blanket lump that was Maka for a moment, then tugged again—because she felt that was about as far as she could go.
Maka, naturally, showed no signs of cooperating.
After a few more minutes, Luna turned and thumped down the stairs, as if struck by a brilliant idea.
Not long after, she thumped back up again, a soft, narrow wicker basket in her hands. It swayed slightly as she carried it, and something inside it wriggled and shifted—lots of small somethings.
Apparently, this was exactly why she'd run downstairs. Whatever was in that basket, Luna believed, could wake Maka up very effectively.
The girl blinked, then carefully lifted one corner of the blanket—just a little—and, quick as lightning, tipped the entire basket's contents inside.
When the little creatures had burrowed into the bedding, Luna nodded in satisfaction. She even tucked the lifted corner neatly back in place.
A moment later, something moved beneath the blanket—soft, muffled sounds, like someone humming weakly.
"Mm… huh?" Maka sounded like he'd woken, but his voice was wrong—stuffed up, nasal, as if he'd caught a cold. "Uh—ah! What is that? Don't—"
The blanket began to thrash and shiver violently. Even the old door panel serving as the bedframe started to wobble.
Sure enough, a hastily built bed wasn't sturdy. With a loud crash, the whole room seemed to tremble. Maka fought his way upright and tore the blanket off himself, groaning like a man in agony.
And yes—his voice was still painfully nasal.
The culprits were clinging all over him, especially around his face and neck. They made happy little snuffling noises as they crowded his cheeks, throat, chest, and anywhere else they could reach. A few even stretched out soft tongues and tried to poke them straight into Maka's nostrils.
"Urgh—A-ah—ACHOO!" Maka shook his head hard, flinging several of the furry things away. Only then did he notice Miss Luna standing to the side, watching the entire priceless spectacle with serious fascination.
"Puffskeins," Luna said dreamily, pointing at the fluffy creatures swarming him. "They're very friendly with people. When they're happy, they hum."
"And they're easy to keep. They eat everything—leftovers, scraps, spiders, mosquitoes." She paused, eyes unfocused, as if recalling a simple fact from a book. "They also really like sticking their tongues upward, into the noses of sleeping witches and wizards… to eat their dried boogers."
Maka instantly clamped a hand over his nose, because he'd just noticed several Puffskeins flicking long tongues eagerly, clearly ready to try again.
"Alright, alright! Effective alarm clock, I'll give you that," Maka said through his pinched nose, waving his other hand vaguely. "Now can we please put them away?"
He hauled himself up off the floor. "Oh—right. Good morning, Luna!"
…
Breakfast ended quickly—if it could even be said to have "ended." British food was famously awful, and the wizarding world wasn't any better. And with the Lovegoods' finances being what they were, things were even tighter: the magazine's sales determined almost everything, because most of the profit went straight back into funding the next issue. The number of Galleons left for actual living was pitiful.
After finishing his portion in a hurry, Luna's father Apparated out to gather material. Before leaving, he gave Luna a few instructions—something about taking Maka out for a walk and showing him around. Maka, meanwhile, was smacking his lips and trying to figure out how on earth anyone could make Gurdyroot tea taste better, and didn't listen very carefully.
Luna and her father loved the drink. Maka found it nearly unbearable.
Compared to last night's Colorball Fish soup—which at least had clear strengths along with its oddities—this Lovegood-style Gurdyroot tea offered only one experience:
Suffering.
"What a… impactful beverage," Maka sighed. He tipped the cup back and poured the liquid straight down his throat like a man taking medicine. "Alright. So where are we going?"
Luna stared at the spot where her father had vanished. After a while, she answered honestly, "I don't know."
Maka tilted his head, thinking. "Are there any neighbors nearby? I mean—wizard neighbors."
"The closest is the Fawcett family," Luna said, turning her gaze toward the window. "Farther out is Ottery St Catchpole. Mr. Weasley from the Ministry and Mr. Diggory both made their homes around there."
Maka nodded, already considering whether visiting another wizarding family might be a good way to make connections—when one name in that sentence snagged his attention.
"Weasley?" He lifted his head, looking at Luna. "Is that the… family where everyone has red hair?"
"Mrs. Weasley doesn't," Luna said, drifting as usual. "Her hair is brown."
Maka couldn't help laughing.
"It really is brown," Luna repeated, perfectly serious.
"Alright, alright," Maka said, laughing harder. "Yes—of course. Then how about this: we go visit the Weasleys?"
Luna nodded indifferently, as if she truly didn't care where they went.
A little later, after they'd cleaned up the table and the kitchen together, Maka watched Luna vanish into the grimy fireplace in a burst of green flame.
Pop!
"Right," Maka muttered, stepping toward the hearth. "Grab a handful, say the place, and throw it in…"
Then he stopped, suddenly remembering something.
"Oh—and you have to pronounce it clearly," he added, thinking of Harry's unfortunate trip to Knockturn Alley.
"The Burrow."
Pop!
For some reason, Maka's green fire flared far higher than Luna's had. Luckily, that particular magical reaction didn't seem capable of transporting inanimate objects—because with flames surging toward the ceiling like that, it looked as though it might have tried to take the whole fireplace along for the ride.
When Maka stepped out of the Weasley fireplace, Luna was already speaking with Mrs. Weasley.
"Oh! You must be Maka, then?" Mrs. Weasley turned at once, greeting him warmly. "Miss Lovegood was just telling me about you. Welcome to our home."
As she spoke, Mrs. Weasley strode over and flung open a window. "Fred! George! Ron! Get inside—there are guests!"
Maka craned his neck and glanced out. He caught sight of a big freckled boy holding a large, hairless rat upside down by the tail, and behind him a slightly shorter boy trailing after.
"Fred—give Scabbers back! Percy gave him to me!"
"Hey, Ron, hold on!" Fred protested. "I just think he needs a little hair-growth potion."
"Stop bickering! Can't you see we have guests?" Mrs. Weasley roared instantly. "Be quiet for five seconds, will you? And where's George?"
Fred spread his hands innocently. "Mum. I am George."
Mrs. Weasley blinked. "Alright then—where's Fred?"
Someone suddenly shoved both boys aside and stepped in, talking a mile a minute. "Hey, Mum! I'm George—you've mixed us up again!"
Mrs. Weasley's expression twisted, and she launched into a brand-new round of scolding. Luna, meanwhile, laughed like a lunatic at the side, unable to stop.
Maka watched the chaos unfold and pressed a hand to his forehead with a long sigh.
"Sorry, um… Mr. Maka?" a small voice spoke up behind him, a little to one side of the fireplace. "It's always loud here."
Maka turned and found a girl with the same bright red hair as the others—smaller than the boys, and younger too.
"Oh—no, it's alright," Maka said. "I'm just not used to scenes quite this… energetic."
He could guess who she was. The youngest Weasley—Ginny.
Maka looked at her, then glanced back at the three boys being lectured, and sighed again. He truly couldn't understand how one family could raise siblings with personalities so extreme—and so wildly different.
The eldest, Bill, was always rock-and-roll.
Percy was prideful and fierce.
The twins lived for pranks.
Even Ron carried the shadow of insecurity.
Only the second son, Charlie, and little Ginny seemed remotely normal.
Of course, Maka wasn't entirely sure his memories were accurate. It had been too long; plenty of details had blurred.
"Anyway… thank you," he said gently, still smiling. "That's kind of you, Miss Ginny."
Ginny stared at Maka, puzzled. Had someone mentioned her to him? She hadn't even introduced herself yet.
"Alright, alright—come over and greet the guests," Mrs. Weasley finally said, ending the lengthy scolding and waving her children toward them.
The Burrow quieted a little.
Only Luna kept laughing, the awkward sound echoing around the room as if it had nowhere else to go.