Kapitel 84: CH84 - The 422nd World Cup
"No... freaking.... way!" Jeremy yelled in disbelief.
Cynthia smirked, tilting her head upwards snobbishly.
"You're joking, right?! Actually, scratch that. If this is some elaborate prank, I swear I'll never forgive you!" Jeremy vowed giddily.
"That doesn't sound like a 'thank you' to me," she sniffed haughtily in response.
Jeremy leapt across the dining room table, almost tackling her from her chair as he whooped and hollered in her face. "Best! Mom! Ever!"
"Alright! Alright! I get it!" Cynthia giggled, rapidly cycling between irritation and amusement at his exaggerated reaction.
Edmund peered over from his seat, trying to catch a glimpse of the envelope that had made Jeremy respond in such a fashion. The stamp of The Department of Magical Games and Sports stared back at him, a capital 'M' with a magical broom running lengthwise behind it. The bronze ticket sticking out of it confirmed his suspicions, emblazoned with a decorative golden snitch.
Tickets to the Quidditch World Cup.
"But how?! VIP Box 2 is the best seat in the house after the top box! These sell for hundreds of galleons on the market! We'll be sitting right below the commentators and the Minister for Magic!" Jeremy rambled excitedly.
"Benefits of having Cynthia Langdon as your mother," Albert piped in from the side as he swallowed a forkful of scrambled eggs.
"Now, now, dear," Cynthia teased. "The tickets say Cynthia 'Todd,' I'll have you know."
"Really? Well, that Todd fellow has gotta be the luckiest bloke in the world to have a wife like that," Albert played along as he leaned in for a kiss.
"Why do you have to ruin everything!" Jeremy complained, although his broad grin never showed any signs of wavering.
"It's practically our duty," Cynthia admonished.
"That's right. It's part of the job description, kiddo," Albert nodded solemnly.
"I assume it's alright if I stay in the apartment alone that night?" Edmund cut in, wanting to speak before Jeremy got going again.
'This works perfectly. If they're out of the house that entire day and night, I'll have a decent alibi for my whereabouts when things go down,' his mind raced.
"I'm afraid not," Cynthia replied, halting his train of thought.
"Hmm?" Edmund stared at her, baffled.
She gestured for the envelope with her fingers, beckoning him to hand it to her. Taking hold of it, she turned it over, dumping its contents onto her palm. One, two, three... four?
"What? You thought we would leave you behind?" Albert smiled.
Edmund's mouth clicked shut, then opened more. "But—"
"But nothing," Cynthia insisted. "You're coming with us, and that's final. I won't hear any complaints. Besides... the tickets were free anyways."
Three pairs of eyes turned to her simultaneously.
"Perks of being a celebrity," she laughed embarrassedly. "The more you make, the less you have to spend."
Edmund sighed, discarding all the plans that had begun to form.
'Well... Shit...'
*-*-*-*
- (Scene Break) -
*-*-*-*
The crowd shuffled around them as Edmund puffed himself out to protect his vertically challenged friend from the early morning mob. She, in turn, seemed unruffled by the prospect of being trampled. Perhaps because she trusted Edmund to protect her, or maybe because she simply did not care.
'It's impossible to tell with her,' Edmund decided.
Instead, she loudly belted a jaunty tune, uncaring of the disapproving looks being sent her way.
"And Odo the hero, they bore him back home
To the place that he'd known as a lad,
They laid him to rest with his hat inside out
And his wand snapped in two, which was sad."
"You know that's a pub song, right Luna?" he questioned with a chuckle.
"I'm not too surprised," she smiled back at him. "Daddy was rather drunk when he was singing it."
Edmund laughed, more genuinely this time. "I gather the trip went well then? Did you find what you were looking for? The... er—"
"Aquavirius Maggots," Luna supplied helpfully without a pause. "No, I'm afraid not. I could've sworn I saw a couple of Gulping Plimpies, though. It's good I had some Gurdyroot to ward them off."
He glanced at her with his peripheral vision, only to see her giving him a mischievous look masqueraded by the barest facade of innocence. Edmund shook his head ruefully. Calling her out on it would be an exercise in futility. He was adept in many things, but winning a battle of wits against Luna Lovegood was beyond even his means.
"How was the weather out there?" he asked instead. "I've read that you can see the northern lights from the Finnish Lapland if you're lucky enough."
"That's right," she confirmed with a dreamy sigh of reminiscence. "It was perfect. Picturesque, even. And so quiet as well. All I could hear was my breathing and the snow falling under the silver light of the moon."
Edmund grinned, bumping his shoulder with hers. "It's nice to see you so relaxed. You seem happy."
"I am," Luna admitted. "My father can be difficult sometimes. He lives in his head more often than not, and getting him out of it is easier said than done. But when we go on these trips, he's different. Attentive. Caring. Content. Almost like he used to be when..."
Their conversation paused.
Edmund squeezed her hand with his own. "Sorry," he whispered.
"Don't be," she reassured. "I've come to terms with it. Father avoids the topic like the plague. It's only when we're on our excursions that he opens up, and that's after he's been plied with firewhisky. Sadness is good for the soul sometimes."
"I get it," he murmured. "But I wanted you to have fun today, not wallow."
"Oh?" she questioned conspiratorially. "And what's on the agenda exactly?"
"Anything you want," Edmund shrugged earnestly.
Luna's gaze trailed upwards from his face to the top of his head. "Anything?" she asked predatorily.
"No, no, wait a second," Edmund protested as he realized what she was referring to. "I meant things we could do together! Not that!"
Too late.
Luna had already latched onto his arm and was pulling him towards a colourful shop with a sign overtop reading 'Brown's Barbers.'
"Luna! Just listen to me! We can talk about this!" he continued to babble.
"Hello, dearies!" a plump-looking witch greeted them as they entered the salon. "Mrs. Brown at your service! How can I help you today?"
Luna said nothing, pointing to Edmund's hair wordlessly, causing the older witch to scrunch her eyebrows.
"Oh, dear... I see what you mean, lass. All the boys nowadays have the same dreadfully long curls, don't they? Who do they think they're going to impress?" Mrs. Brown clucked.
"It's the same as Donaghan Tremlett's, the lead bassist of the Weird Sisters. Witch Weekly had an article that said he got engaged recently," another hairdresser chimed in from the side.
"Pah! Just because all the young witches still have posters of him on their walls doesn't mean you're going to score any brownie points for looking like him!" a wiry old woman sitting in line teased. "Though no one's ever said that boys think with their heads anyways."
"Not the upper ones, that's for sure," the hairdresser muttered crassly.
"I've had the same hair forever," Edmund objected loudly over the raucous laughter in the room. "I'm not trying to copy anyone!"
"Pfft," Luna dismissed as he was forced into an empty chair. "It doesn't matter whether you are or aren't. What matters is that it looks like you are, along with ninety percent of the other boys at Hogwarts."
"She's right, dear. Trust me," Mrs. Brown consoled as she levitated a pair of enchanted scissors over his scalp. "You'll thank me for this later."
Edmund only caught a flash of the wicked smirk adorning Luna's face before he was forced to close his eyes to prevent hair from falling into them.
AUTORENGEDANKEN 
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Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
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