Harry Potter, one shots.

Blood.

Dear diary,

I am nine years old. My name is Luna. I am with my mum, and I love her very much. Daddy is shopping; he'll be back soon.

I put down my diary in favor of watching my mum. She was so good at her experiments. Right now, she was working on a new spell.

This one, she told me, would do an in-depth scan of the caster's body, much more effective than the current healing and diagnostic spells. It just needed a bit more tweaking. "Dolor revelare," she tried. A bright blue light scanned her body before it was gone, a piece of parchment in its place.

Pandora Lovegood muttered to herself before scribbling something down on a piece of paper. "Diagnosis revelare," she muttered, scribbling something more on the parchment. "Dolorem meum revelare" was next.

Then "vulnus revelare." The list continued as I watched in amazement. "Intus vigilate dolor." Now she moved on to different languages other than Latin: "Douleurs révélées" that one I recognised as French, "Bolesti odhaleny" this I thought might have been Czech.

I lost count of the number of spells she tried before those fateful words were spoken, the words I would fear even years later: "Ostende mihi vulnera mea." Then the screams began—my screams intertwined with my mother's as she was turned inside out, blood, so much blood, blood that would haunt me forever. We screamed until—

—I was the only one screaming. I looked at my mum, now a pile of blood and guts on the floor, wide-eyed. I fell to the floor, crying. I crawled across to my mother's remains. "Mummy!" I cried to no one.

I cried until my father came home. Even then, I cried my heart out to him. We cried together. Suddenly, all crying ceased. I locked this memory in my head, never to think about this day again.

Two hours later...

"Daddy?" I asked. "What are we having for dinner?" He smiled at me. "Freshwater plimpy soup, of course, Luna dear."

D̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶d̶i̶a̶r̶y̶,̶ ̶ ̶I̶ ̶a̶m̶ ̶n̶i̶n̶e̶ ̶y̶e̶a̶r̶s̶ ̶o̶l̶d̶.̶ ̶M̶y̶ ̶n̶a̶m̶e̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶L̶u̶n̶a̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶a̶m̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶m̶u̶m̶,̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶l̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶ ̶v̶e̶r̶y̶ ̶m̶u̶c̶h̶.̶ ̶D̶a̶d̶d̶y̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶s̶h̶o̶p̶p̶i̶n̶g̶;̶ ̶h̶e̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶b̶a̶c̶k̶ ̶s̶o̶o̶n̶.̶

Dear diary,

My name is Luna Lovegood. I am going to prove the existence of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.