First Adventures in Ottery St. Catchpole
Seven years old, and the world suddenly became bigger than Ludwig had ever imagined.
After years of living in the shadow of fear, Pandora and Xenophilius finally felt safe enough to take their son outside. The day was bright, the wind carried the scent of wet grass and wild flowers from the surrounding fields. Ludwig stood in front of the house, wearing a warm, dark green robe—stitched by his mother herself.
"This is our village, Ottery St. Catchpole," Pandora said, holding Ludwig's hand. "A quiet place. Not many wizards here, but... some families are very special."
Ludwig nodded slightly, his eyes tracing the dirt road that stretched out before them. He noted everything—the shape of the houses, the color of the sky, the sound of birds whose names he didn't know. This world was alive, and he wanted to remember it all.
They walked down a slope, passed a small river, and arrived at a large, strangely shaped house. It had many levels, towers, and smoke rising, with a messy yet warm yard.
"We'll stop by the Weasleys' for a bit," Xenophilius said with a smile. "You need friends your age, Lud."
Pandora knocked on the door, and soon after, a woman with a flour-dusted apron opened the door wide. "Pandora! It's been so long!" she exclaimed. "Ah, this must be Ludwig."
Molly Weasley immediately knelt down to greet the little boy. "Hello, dear. Come in. The children are in the backyard—Charlie is playing with Bill."
Ludwig nodded slowly. He was a little nervous, but also curious. Pandora patted his shoulder. "You can play. We'll just talk with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."
In the backyard, Ludwig saw two boys playing with stick-like objects, but with glittering stones attached to the ends. One of them had curly red hair and a loud laugh—Bill. The other was calmer, but his eyes were full of passion, and his hands steadily gripped the toy stick. That was Charlie.
"Hey, who are you?" Bill asked, waving.
"Ludwig," he replied simply. "I'm... outside for the first time."
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "First time?"
"Yeah... something like that."
Bill and Charlie exchanged glances, then Bill grinned. "So you've never played pretend Quidditch?"
"No."
"Great! You're the Keeper now!"
Before Ludwig could protest, the two boys had handed him an old wooden broom and started throwing a ball. Within minutes, he was running, laughing, and falling on the grass, his blond hair disheveled.
Charlie laughed and helped Ludwig up. "You're fast, even though you've never played."
"How... old are you?" Ludwig asked, wiping sweat.
"Seven," Charlie replied.
Ludwig paused for a moment. "Me too."
Charlie grinned. "So we're the same age. Do you want to come here again tomorrow?"
Ludwig gave a small smile. "If my mum lets me... yes."
That afternoon, Pandora took Ludwig home with a relieved expression. "You get along with them," she said, hugging her son's shoulder.
Ludwig didn't answer. But his steps were light, and his heart was warmer than before.
For the first time, he felt not only safe... but also accepted.
The following days passed quickly, like chapters in a book eager to be turned. After that first awkward but warm encounter, Ludwig became a regular visitor at the Weasley household. Pandora always made sure her son wore a warm robe and had his hair neatly combed, even though she knew that within five minutes Ludwig would surely be covered in mud or stuck in a bush.
Charlie became his first friend.
Although both were born in the same year, they couldn't have been more different. Charlie lived to fly. He talked about Quidditch like adults talked about politics—full of passion, full of arguments. He quoted team names, player positions, save statistics, even the flying styles of individual Chasers.
Ludwig, on the other hand, preferred to sit under a tree with a book open on his lap. He observed, took notes, and asked questions. Always questions.
"Why don't wizards ever try to create a communication system like Muggle radio?" Ludwig asked one day, holding a small notebook.
Charlie, who was fixing his bent toy broom, just shrugged. "Because they can use Patronuses, owls, or yell from the window?"
Ludwig chuckled. "Yelling from the window is an emergency communication system, Charlie."
"But effective," interjected Bill, who had just come out with two pieces of cake from the kitchen and dropped one into Ludwig's hand. "I always yell from the attic if Fred and George are doing something dangerous."
Despite their differing interests, Ludwig and Charlie always found space to listen to each other. Charlie would sit quietly—for an unusually long time for a seven-year-old—just to hear Ludwig explain ancient magical theories or stories from Hogwarts textbooks that Pandora had "borrowed" from a family library.
Conversely, Ludwig willingly joined in as a fake Quidditch commentator while Charlie and Bill flew around the yard on their toy brooms.
"Charlie's making a spin! Then—oh—almost fell, but his broom is stable! Is this... yes! That's the Tutshill Tornado Twist move!"
"No! That's the Kenmare Kestrels' style!" Charlie shouted from above, hovering sideways.
"Freestyle," Ludwig retorted, covering his face as Charlie almost crashed into him.
Sometimes evening came too quickly, and Pandora had to pick up Ludwig before Molly made all the children bathe. But on the way home, Ludwig always talked. About how Charlie told stories about dragons, or how Bill taught them to skip stones three times across the lake.
And sometimes, Pandora just looked ahead, holding back a smile. She knew her son wasn't just making friends—but also having a childhood she feared she could never give him because of a world once filled with darkness.
The friendship between Ludwig and Charlie grew like a strong young tree: their roots were different, but they grew side by side—filling each other's days, making the world's wounds seem farther away than they truly were.
Autumn arrived with the scent of damp earth and the increasingly rare sound of birds. The Lovegood house became quieter but also busier. Pandora, with her growing belly, often sat in the rocking chair, reading herbal potion books or simply gazing out the window, smiling for no reason.
Ludwig began to notice the change in atmosphere. There was something gentle and warm in their home now—as if the world wasn't just spinning, but also preparing space for a new soul.
In his silence, Ludwig knew who was coming: Luna. Since childhood, he had known many things—things that couldn't quite be explained, but he felt them like memories that never truly faded.
"Dad, can I help with The Quibbler?" Ludwig asked one afternoon, when Xenophilius was examining stacks of manuscripts and letters from loyal readers.
Xenophilius turned, his eyes slightly widened. "You want to help write, son?"
Ludwig nodded. "I want to write a story. I have an idea about a hobbit... a small creature who loves comfort, but ends up going on a life-changing adventure."
Xenophilius frowned. "A hobbit? Like... a house-elf, but adventurous?"
"Not exactly," Ludwig smiled faintly. "More like... a small creature who doesn't like violence, but has a big heart. I'll tell you all about it later. It's not a serious article. But maybe it's suitable for a special children's edition?"
Xenophilius sighed softly, then patted his son's head. "Write it, Ludwig. The world of The Quibbler always has a place for things that are strange but honest."
And so, Ludwig spent the following nights with a quill and parchment scrolls. He wrote with enthusiasm, telling the story of Bilbo Baggins, Gandalf, and the thirteen Dwarves. He wrote about courage emerging from fear, about treasure that blinded, and a dragon sleeping on a pile of gold.
Pandora, from her rocking chair, sometimes heard her son read paragraphs aloud, as if wanting to know if his story was engaging enough. And every time Ludwig read, the baby in her womb moved. Pandora smiled.
"She likes adventures, apparently," she murmured.
A few weeks later, Xenophilius printed the story in The Quibbler, a special edition. On the front page, just below the headline about the existence of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack in northern Albania, the title was printed:
"The Hobbit: A Magical Tale by Ludwig Lovegood"
Many read the story. The Quibbler's readers found a new form of entertainment. But for the small family, the hobbit's tale was a marker: Ludwig was no longer just a smart little boy—he was growing into a writer, a dreamer, and perhaps... a protector for the sister who would soon be born.
And deep in his heart, Ludwig promised: when Luna was born, he would be a strong older brother. He would be Gandalf, Thorin, or even Bilbo for her—whatever the world needed.
Since The Quibbler began serializing Ludwig's story, The Hobbit, something unexpected happened. The magazine, once only popular among a handful of enthusiasts for strange theories and bizarre creatures, now attracted more readers. Children, parents, even some Hogwarts professors began to wonder—who was this young author who could create such a rich world?
Even though The Quibbler still couldn't rival the fame of The Daily Prophet, at least now they had a much-anticipated column. Each new issue, the "Hobbit's Adventure" page became a favorite, especially in homes with young children.
Pandora sat in the living room, holding a letter from a new subscriber.
"They're from Yorkshire," she said, smiling at Xenophilius. "They said their children are starting to love reading because of Ludwig's stories."
Xenophilius looked at his son with immense pride. "What you write, son, brings joy. Even to those who previously considered us 'too eccentric'."
Ludwig just gave a small smile, stirring the tea in his mug. For him, writing was an escape, and also a form of love. But that others could enter and find something within those stories—that was the true magic.
One afternoon, as the sky of Ottery St. Catchpole was painted in golden-orange hues, Ludwig sat under a tree with Charlie, Bill, and their two younger siblings, Percy and little Fred, who was still babbling.
"So, what happened after Bilbo went into the cave?" Charlie asked with wide eyes.
"Well, there he met a creature named Gollum. Gollum challenged him to a game of riddles…" Ludwig replied, then paused his story for a moment, letting the curiosity prickle them.
"Go on, go on!" Bill said impatiently.
Little Percy tried to imitate Gollum's voice, saying, "My preciousss…"
Fred laughed loudly, even though he didn't understand the story yet.
Days like these made Ludwig happy. Although he and Charlie were very different—Charlie spent his time on the lawn playing Quidditch with his broom, while Ludwig preferred to sit in the library reading old books—yet at times like this, their worlds met.
Charlie didn't mind that Ludwig wasn't agile at Quidditch. Instead, he loved Ludwig's tales that took him to places a flying broom couldn't reach.
And Ludwig? He didn't need many friends; just one sincere listener was enough to make his life colorful.
At night, when Pandora rested and the moon peeked through the window, Ludwig wrote again. Not just for The Quibbler, but for the sister who would soon arrive. He wanted this world to feel a little warmer for Luna—a world that might later feel strange, alien, even dangerous.
But if his sister could grow up surrounded by stories, love, and a little magic, then everything would be alright.
That night, a gentle breeze whispered softly through Pandora and Xenophilius's bedroom window. Inside the house, dim oil lamps cast warm shadows on the stone walls. Ludwig, now eight years old, knelt in the corner of the living room, waiting for news.
"My baby's almost here, Lud," Pandora whispered softly from the doorway, her face glowing with both exhaustion and happiness. Xenophilius nodded, eyes red from lack of sleep.
Soon after, a tiny cry was heard—the first sound that broke the silence. Ludwig immediately stood up, looking at the door that slowly opened.
Pandora stepped out, a soft shawl wrapped around a tiny baby. In her arms was a small figure with thin, silvery hair, eyes tightly closed.
"Meet Luna Lovegood," Xenophilius said emotionally. "Our little light."
Ludwig approached carefully. The baby cried once more, then closed her eyes, as if eager to see the new world awaiting her.
"She's perfect, Lud," Pandora said with a relieved smile.
Just then, there was a light knock on the door—then Molly Weasley entered, followed by her three children: Charlie, Bill, and little Percy. The atmosphere immediately became boisterous and cheerful.
"Congratulations, Pandora! Congratulations, Xeno!" Molly exclaimed, hugging her two friends. The Weasley children bowed politely one by one, then gathered around Ludwig.
Charlie approached, looking at the new baby sister with curiosity. "Is she... Luna?"
Ludwig nodded. "Luna." He smiled proudly. "My sister."
Bill chimed in, frowning in admiration. "She's so cute. Can you see her hair shimmering?"
"Like starlight," Percy whispered softly, his eyes sparkling.
Molly sat on the sofa, holding Pandora's hand. "How are you doing, dear?"
Pandora looked at Molly gratefully. "Thankfully, everyone's safe. Luna is healthy—and she already has a wonderful older brother."
Xenophilius placed a notebook on the table. "Now this house is officially getting more crowded. We'll need extra chairs." He proudly patted Ludwig's back.
After the greetings and light laughter, the evening turned into a small celebration. Ludwig sat by Pandora's side, quietly reading snippets from The Hobbit to calm his sister if she fussed. Charlie and Bill sat on the floor, occasionally helping Ludwig turn pages, while Percy looked on in awe at the rhythmic sounds.
In another corner, Xenophilius and Molly Weasley took turns telling lighthearted stories from The Daily Prophet—about a magical cat, about a report of a Toadstool Toothed Kelpies—which brought small bursts of laughter from every corner of the room.
Pandora looked at the door, now slowly closing, then said, "Ludwig, one day you will teach Luna everything you know. From words, to... your father's strange magazine stories."
Ludwig smiled proudly, patting Luna's tiny hand wrapped in a light blue blanket. "I promise, Mum."
On that warm night, the Lovegood home was not only filled with the sound of a baby's cries, but also laughter, whispers of love, and adventures that had just begun—for Luna, for Ludwig, and for every soul brave enough to dream.
Years passed like The Quibbler's pages blown by the wind. Luna Lovegood grew up in the warmth of a family full of strange stories, laughter, and love.
At the age of two, Luna could already point at the night sky and name stars, not because she was taught, but because Ludwig often read her astronomy books and tales of celestial creatures from his room, which was filled with ink scribbles and manuscript scrolls.
In the living room, Pandora often created simple illusions with her wand—small creatures like Nargles fluttered above Luna's head, making her laugh and clap her hands.
Meanwhile, Ludwig and Charlie began to explore the small forest behind the house more often. They made a secret map, claiming a spot under an old oak tree as their "Anti-Boredom Headquarters." There, Ludwig read The Silmarillion aloud, while Charlie tried to sketch dragons.
"Lud, one day I'm going to be a dragon tamer," Charlie said, showing a drawing of a dragon that looked a bit like a three-headed chicken. "And I'll write a book about you. It'll be called The Fire-Chicken Tamer," Ludwig replied, laughing.
On weekends, the Weasley family often came to visit, bringing Molly's signature warm pumpkin pasties. Bill, who was now at Hogwarts, became a figure admired by the children. He often sat by the fireplace, telling stories about life at the wizarding school.
"I got into Gryffindor," Bill said proudly. "That's the brave one, right?" Ludwig asked. "That's right. But actually, sometimes the bravest ones are often the quietest," Bill replied, glancing at Ludwig with a faint smile.
One day, they held a joint birthday party. Charlie's and Ludwig's birthdays were quite far apart, but they wanted to celebrate together to make it livelier. The Lovegood family offered their backyard for the celebration. Pandora hung glowing lanterns in the air, while Xenophilius conjured the birthday cake into a small dragon that could sing.
Molly brought her famous chocolate layer cake, and the Weasley children formed an orchestra from pots, spoons, and buckets.
Luna, in a small blue dress and wildflowers in her hair, danced in circles among them. Ludwig watched her, then smiled as he wrote something in his notebook.
Note: Little sister can dance like an elf. Don't forget to write about this in the next story.
Bill patted Ludwig's shoulder. "You're like a little professor." Ludwig raised an eyebrow. "I'm just an observer of the world." "And a writer," Charlie added. "And a brother," Luna chimed in, crawling onto Ludwig's lap.
The night ended with chaotic birthday singing, warm lantern light, and long hugs. For Ludwig, the outside world might still be dangerous, but here—amidst family, friends, and stories—he felt strong enough to face it.
And somehow, that night he looked at the sky and felt... the complicated future wasn't entirely frightening.
Since Luna's birth, Ludwig's spirit seemed to have a new purpose. Now he wasn't just a smart older child, but also a brother who wanted to be a protector. He knew the wizarding world wasn't always kind, and Luna, with all her gentleness, might grow up as a girl who saw beauty in unexpected places. And for that, Ludwig trained—to become strong, silently, in solitude.
At just nine years old, Ludwig had mastered Hogwarts textbooks from first to seventh year. He read not just to know, but to understand, to bring theories to life and test their practice. He even created a personal catalog system with color codes based on the danger level and complexity of each spell.
Basic spells like Lumos, Alohomora, and even Petrificus Totalus were no longer a challenge. Even Protego Maxima, Expelliarmus, and Stupefy he had practiced perfectly. He also delved into advanced arts like Nonverbal Spells, and even some high-level Transfiguration, which are generally taught in the sixth or seventh year.
But the most prideful—and also most secret—was his success in mastering Occlumency. Pandora, his mother, who meticulously oversaw this training, admitted that she herself was surprised by Ludwig's mental resilience.