Under the Cursed Moon - CH - 78

Luna Lovegood stood beneath the pale canopy of evergreens, her wand held tightly in one hand as her sharp eyes scanned the clearing. The soft snow falling through the branches dusted her shoulders like frost-kissed feathers. In owl form, the cold had meant nothing, but now, back in her human body, a chill settled into her bones—not from the winter, but from dread.

Her fingers trembled slightly, not from fear of the Volturi, but from the shame blooming quietly in her chest.

She should have known.
She should have expected this.
Teddy was always like this.

Since the day he was born, she had loved him like her own. From the very first time she held him in her arms at St. Mungo’s, swaddled in a blanket and blinking up at her with his father’s eyes, Teddy Lupin had never been predictable. Wildly curious, wonderfully reckless, and always, always in motion.

Even after Harry and Hermione moved to America, Luna never let distance diminish her presence. While she wandered the world in pursuit of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and fire-dancing puffskells, Harry had gifted her a magical mirror—one linked to his own, so they could speak no matter the oceans between them.

It was through that mirror she watched Teddy grow.

It was through that mirror she told him stories, soothed his tantrums, laughed at his jokes, and listened to his dreams.

She knew him.
She knew this would happen.

“I should have kept a closer eye,” Luna whispered to herself, lips pale with regret.

The clearing was silent now, the entire gathering of immortals stunned by the voice that had broken through their ritual-like stillness.

“You can’t just take Renesmee away!”

Teddy’s voice had been clear, youthful, and defiant—cutting through ancient, vampire-laden tension like a spell through glass.

All eyes had turned.
And there he stood.

A small boy, no more than ten, his cheeks flushed pink from the cold, his blue eyes glaring at Aro like the leader of the Volturi was nothing more than a schoolyard bully. Snow clung to his boots, and his dark coat flared with each angry breath he took.

Luna’s heart lurched painfully in her chest.

Aro’s smile grew.

“Well, well,” the ancient vampire said, taking a slow step forward. “Who is this… unexpected guest?”

Carlisle’s voice came next, strained but calm. “Teddy… you shouldn’t be here.”

Teddy glanced back at the Cullens, then at Renesmee, who stared at him in stunned disbelief. “But he was going to take her!” Teddy pointed at Aro with the fury of a storm barely contained.

“Fascinating,” Aro murmured, ignoring the indignation and instead inspecting the child like a newly discovered artifact. “And who exactly is… he?”


Luna’s boots crunched softly against the snow as she backed into the cover of the trees, her pale eyes flicking between Teddy—who stood proudly despite the sea of red eyes on him—and the ancient vampire still smiling with that unnerving calm.

She should have told Harry the moment she realized the Volturi had crossed into Black territory.

She should have.

Because now, everything was unraveling.

And Teddy… Teddy was standing like a brave fool in front of the most dangerous vampires in the world.

Her fingers tightened around her wand. She glanced once more toward the clearing, then stepped deeper into the shadows. The air shimmered slightly as she whispered the spell.

“Expecto Patronum.”

Light erupted from her wand, bright and pure. A glowing owl, ethereal and majestic, burst from the tip and hovered before her, head tilted as if listening.

Luna’s voice, for once, was crisp and serious.

“Teddy is in danger.”

The Patronus blinked once. Then it took flight, vanishing into the sky, shimmering as it raced to find Harry Potter, wherever in the world he might be.

Luna knew.

The moment Harry received the message, he would come.

He had enchanted items—rings, runes, wards, and maps—that let him track Teddy’s heartbeat, location, even magical shifts in the boy’s aura. The man was paranoid about his son’s safety.

And now Luna was grateful for it.

Still, until he arrived, she had to protect Teddy.

Luna took a deep breath, slipped her wand back into her cloak, and walked forward—calm, deliberate, unafraid.

She stepped out from the shadows and joined Teddy in the open. The eyes of dozens of vampires followed her every move, but she met them with that unreadable Luna calm, like she’d just stepped out for a cup of tea.

She reached Teddy’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder, fingers gentle but firm.

“Don’t move, darling,” she whispered. “You’ve said enough for now.”

Teddy didn’t look at her. His eyes were locked on Aro, burning with righteous anger.

Aro, however, had turned his attention fully to Luna.

He took a slow, curious step forward, the hem of his cloak brushing through the snow.

Luna didn’t flinch.

“The question,” she said softly, but her voice carried like frost on the wind, “is not who he is. The question is what are you all doing here.”

Aro’s smile flickered. Just slightly.

Luna stepped in front of Teddy now, her full form facing the ancient vampire lord.

“This land,” she continued, her voice growing sharper, “belongs to this boy’s father—Harry Black—who is my friend. My brother, in all ways that matter.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for the first time, the dreamy expression vanished. What stared back at Aro now was something far older, far wiser, far more dangerous.

“You are trespassing in his land,” she said flatly. “You have no right to question his son, no right to be here. What you should do is return to your own business—in your own lands.”

The clearing was dead silent.

Every vampire, every shapeshifter, even the wind itself—held still.

The cold silence of the clearing was broken—not by a word, but by a wave of resentment that swept through the Volturi ranks.

Luna’s calm, direct challenge had shaken something in them.

A mere human, speaking to Aro as if he were a trespasser, as if he were beneath reproach—it was unthinkable.

The guards stirred uneasily.

But one did not stir.

She stepped forward.

Jane.

The Volturi’s most loyal enforcer, her childlike features still as marble, her eyes narrowed like a dagger drawn at Luna’s throat.

She stood beside Aro and spoke a single word.

“Pain.”

It was meant to be devastating.

Meant to drop Luna to her knees, eyes wide and body convulsing in agony, begging for mercy that Jane would never grant.

That’s how it always worked.
Always.

The guards waited.
Aro waited.
Caius smirked, already enjoying what he believed was coming.

But Luna…

She simply stood there.

Her head tilted slightly. Her eyes, the same dreamy blue as always, blinked once in curiosity.

No scream.
No tremble.
No reaction.

She might as well have been listening to a breeze.

Jane’s brows furrowed slightly. The corners of her lips twitched. Her fingers curled at her side.

She increased the intensity.

Still nothing.

Luna tilted her head again and spoke—softly, as if addressing a small misbehaving child.

“You shouldn’t poke into other people’s heads, little vampire,” she said. “It’s rather impolite.”

Shock rippled through the Volturi.

Jane took a sharp step forward, her eyes blazing now. “What did you do?”

Luna’s smile was faint. “Nothing you could undo. I simply don’t let people in unless I want them there.”

In her mind, Luna’s Occlumency shield shimmered like a silver curtain—calm, stable, unbreakable.

She had learned the art from her father before the war. And after the war, she’d refined it, trained with masters in far corners of the magical world. Her mind was her own.

Jane’s power worked on the brain—nerves, perception, illusion of pain. But it required mental access, and Luna's mind was a fortress.

A fortress that didn’t just resist.
It reflected.

Jane stumbled back half a step, confused, the feedback from her own attack sending a pulse of nausea up her spine.

And then she made a graver mistake.

She turned to the boy beside Luna.

Her gaze locked onto Teddy Lupin, who stood with his arms folded and his chin tilted up with a confident smirk.

She whispered again, “Pain.”

Teddy didn’t move.

He didn’t flinch.

He blinked slowly—then offered Jane a mocking smile.

It was the kind of smile that could only come from someone who had inherited Harry Potter’s nerve, and had grown up among creatures far more frightening than the Volturi.

“Are you trying to tickle me?” he asked sweetly. “Because I don’t think you’re very good at it.”

This time, the shock was thunderous.

Even some of the witnesses gasped aloud.

Jane’s jaw tightened, her lips trembling now—not from fear, but from frustrated rage.

Her gift had never failed.

Until now.

Aro’s calm demeanor cracked slightly. His brows furrowed, and his eyes shifted—first to Luna, then to Teddy.

“…Impressive,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “Very impressive.”

Beside him, Caius hissed under his breath. Marcus remained still, unreadable.

Now the Volturi’s gazes sharpened with murderous suspicion.

Aro’s smile thinned into something tight and cold. “Fascinating,” he said, almost to himself, but the bite in his voice was clear.

Caius, far less composed, took a step forward, baring his teeth. “That child knows the Cullen girl. You’ve shared your secrets with humans.”

Carlisle's jaw clenched. “We did nothing of the sort. No secret has been shared—”

“Then how,” Caius snapped, voice rising, “does that boy know the girl’s name? Why is a human standing here, defending your child, immune to our powers, and calling us vampires?”

Aro raised a hand to silence his brother, but the accusation had already taken root.

Witnesses whispered. Even some of the loyal allies eyed the Cullens uneasily.

The Volturi guards stepped forward in a slow ripple of movement.

Words began to clash again—accusation and defense, Carlisle’s reason clashing with Caius’s fury.

Until—

A voice, as light and strange as snowfall, cut clean through the clamor.

“I knew of vampires long before I ever stepped foot in Forks,” Luna Lovegood said softly.

The clearing fell silent again.

All eyes turned to the slender woman who now stood at Teddy’s side, one arm gently around his shoulder, her wand hidden in the folds of her cloak, her pale blue eyes fixed calmly on the most dangerous immortals in the world.

“I’ve never met the Cullens before today,” Luna continued, tilting her head faintly. “I came here because of him.” She gave Teddy a fond squeeze. “He’s family.”

Aro narrowed his eyes, intrigued. “Then how do you know what we are, dear one? And how do you resist us so easily?”

Luna smiled, a slow and dreamy expression that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Because I’m not just a human,” she said. “I’m a witch.”

She stepped forward now, just enough for her words to carry to every corner of the silent crowd.

“I’m from Britain. And I fought in the war.”

Aro’s expression darkened. Marcus looked up, his face still unreadable—but his eyes sharpened.

Caius hissed softly. “Which war?”

Luna smiled wider, as if amused by the question.

“You know which one,” she said gently. “The one you barely survived. The war where vampires aligned with the wrong side… and lost.”

That made them all freeze.

Even the youngest guards knew the whispers. The war in Britain. The destruction of the last vampire strongholds in Europe. The fall of the old families.

Aro spoke again, this time quieter. “You fought in the Wizarding War?”

“I did,” Luna said. “I helped bury vampires in Scottish forests. I set fire to them in the catacombs beneath London. I brought down a vampire coven in the Forbidden Forest with nothing but a charm and a Thestral.”

Her tone remained calm, almost light—but it sent a chill through even the bravest.

“I never met the Cullens,” she added, gaze drifting toward Carlisle, “but I know exactly what your kind is. And I came here for the boy. Not for you.”

The Cullens were stunned. Carlisle’s face had paled. Emmett, for once, looked completely unsettled. Even Alice, her visions burning behind her eyes, stared at Luna like seeing her for the first time.

Aro took a long breath.

“Well,” he said softly, “it seems we’ve found more than we came for.”

Then—

Something shifted.

The air cracked, like a storm front rolling in.

Every vampire in the clearing stiffened. The shapeshifters growled. And the Cullens turned—eyes wide.

Two enormous wolves charged from the forest’s edge, their paws hammering the frozen ground like thunder, their momentum leaving a trail of snow behind them.

One had thick, pitch-black fur—like smoke made flesh. The other was brown with glinting eyes like shards of steel.

They weren’t part of the Quileute pack.

But the moment the Cullens and shapeshifters saw them, they knew.

Harry and Hermione.

The wolves moved like arrows, closing the distance in seconds. The wind seemed to still around them. Snowflakes hovered in the air, frozen in time.

And then—

In one smooth, blinding motion—

They shifted.

Flesh replaced fur. Cloaks unfurled across shoulders. Magic settled in the snow like a silent detonation.

And standing in the middle of the field—before the eyes of every vampire, every witness, and every Volturi—were two figures:

Harry Potter, green-eyed and silent, his coat sweeping behind him like the shadow of death.

Hermione, regal and composed, her gaze already taking in every detail of the battlefield.

Their presence was not loud.
It was not dramatic.

But it was absolute.

Power radiated from them like heat from a forge.

And in that moment, Aro—ancient ruler of the Volturi, a vampire who had lived through plagues, empires, and the burning of cities—forgot every word he had planned to say.

He stared at the man now stepping forward, calm and quiet, whose eyes held the weight of wars and whose footsteps left the snow shivering beneath him.

And Aro, once so eloquent, once so clever, once so composed, could only utter a single, breathless word:

“Oh… shit.”