001
WHAT OF MAGIC IF NOT FLIGHTS OF WHIMSY
Chapter I: Of Dutch-Speaking Nifflers and New Friends


That day would go down in history as the first day in a very long time since Hogwarts Express got delayed leaving King's Cross, among other things.

Concerning some other circumstances, people would be amused at best when reading about it, so—as to not bore the reader—let's focus on what really matters here, shall we? Some—those who were present and relatively attentive; those that at least kept their ears minimally open for gossip—would know this day as the day Harry Potter's face was replaced by a mighty tomato!

He was blushing furiously thorough all of it, befitting the very characteristic looks of a Weasley boy that he was not, or that he almost was—as people liked well enough to say when taking into consideration the formidable lady who ushered him onboard the Express, delaying him by just a few precious moments for a most impressive hug, and the kind-faced balding Mr Weasley accompanying them, giving his all to carry the boy's trunk into the train, forgetful of his wand in the chaos of departure. He got hold of the boy's shoulder before lightly and quickly planting a fatherly kiss at the top of the boy's head, an action he recoiled just as fast as he'd done it—an instinctive, unconscious gesture that Mr Weasley made sure to beg excuses for just as much times as he bade Harry and the rest of his children goodbyes.

When asked in the future, Harry would say that he didn't mind that at all. Rather, he would look as if he was jinxed again.

When asked about the incantation used to make such a formidable transfiguration, Mr Potter's cheeks would suddenly get very red—more red; yes, it's possible, and also very tiring to describe, but it did happen, I swear. Look, there it was again! What a marvellous spell!

A few of the more astute observers smartly proposed that it was not a spell, in fact, that coloured his usually pale face. It was, rather, an Animagus transformation: Tomarry Potter, half-wizard, half-vegetable!

As the years went on, the joke only got funnier since he tended to look greatly aggravated when he heard that little moniker—almost as if he was constipated! It seemed to pain him tremendously, in fact.

"Half-fruit, actually, narrator."

Funny that one, young lady, but it's actually a vegetable, dear. What are young people learning in that school of yours these days? Tomato, a fruit? What's next: pumpkins growing on trees?

"Well—"

As amusing as that would be, for the reader's sake, I think it is not the wisest thing to entertain such thoughts at this moment, my dear.

His company pouted—it was as if old age had not mattered at all to make her grow out of that kind of behaviour.

"But it's my story."

That it was, and that's fair enough. Ah, we can't have a Luna Lovegood story without a sprinkle of whimsy, can we?

"A spoonful of it, rather!"

Yes, that's more like it. And she's not wrong, of course. It does help a great deal not to try and drag sense out of these things. A sensible person cannot, after all, take magic as a serious concept. Wizards morphing into animals, teapots complaining about the weather and half-vegetable beings: what a queer thing.

"Actually—"

Spoilers, spoilers, spoilers! Let's not give it all just now, my dear. Not knowing is the better part of it. Let them wait a little, let them simmer for a time—

"That's fair enough, I think."

Let them suffer! Let their hearts be full of worry and apprehension! Let—

"Narrator!"

Sorry, delusions of grandeur do have a tendency to follow the brave, the bold and the beautiful. Anyway, I forgot what I was saying … Ah, remembered it: that was the day Harry Potter met Luna Lovegood, of course. Isn't that right dear?

"It certainly is."

Well, I must get on, then. To the story.


There are a few mad scientists and mathematicians who give their will, intellect and some good years of their lives to devotionally study and uncover the mysterious patterns and secrets of life. Some of them were great men and women; some of them benefited greatly and unjustly from the hard work of these same men and women. Some were miserable, some were joyful.

Some were just like Luna Lovegood, an odd cookie, baffling to most, greatly appreciated by an even greater number. That doesn't mean she wasn't absolutely barmy, though.

And that was what everyone was thinking when they tried to make conversation with the strange fair-haired little girl, who had a pair of shoes mimicking live rabbits, who occasionally sniffed the air and a colour-changing long skirt that seemed to favour a garish shade of pink just a little too much.

" … and that's why rats cannot dye themselves or be dyed yellow by wizards. They do try, of course, but, for their own good, they are not able to! Could you imagine what a mess it would be for us? We would have to convince all mammals not to make cheese yellow! And while I can definitely see some of them agreeing with it (theirs are already white, after all), I just cannot see the whole picture, do you know what I mean?"

Ron Weasley, who had been the (un)fortunate target of her passionate speech, had a befuddled face as he nodded back to the girl. He pocketed his wand and looked timidly at Ginny to his side, who was sporting a massive grin at him.

"That's your burden now, Ron, ha!" Ginny giggled at him. Harry looked at her questioningly, asking silently what the freckles was going on. "That spell, to turn Scabbers yellow. Did he try to teach it to you when you both went to Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded, eyeing a rapidly-reddening Ron with more than a little distrust.

"Well, that's just it then. It is a Prewett family tradition. They say that if you don't teach a firstie that fake spell, your ears fall off before the Trace gets lifted off."

Hermione frowns her forehead at Ginny.

"That seems rather … untrue. Are you sure they weren't just pranking you, Ginny?"

Ginny levelled Hermione a disbelieving look. Harry wasn't very good on non-verbal communication, but even he gathered that was a 'uh, duh' look. Ron, on the other hand, looked suspiciously at Hermione. Bless him: though he was an excellent student and a prodigy—Prof. McGonagall's words—in Chess and Transfiguration, he could be a right knucklehead sometimes.

"The Trace? What's that?" Neville asked.

Harry grunted. He knew all too well what that was. It had, after all, almost got him into trouble with the Ministry.

"It's a thing that tracks us using magic before we graduate Hogwarts. It disappears after we get the top O.W.L. scores, after we turn of age or after the Headmaster writes a letter to the Ministry saying we finished our studies. Though it is absolutely useless, since a house-elf tripped mine without even trying, remember it? If it wasn't for Prof. Dumbledore, Mrs Hopkirk would have me do ten sheets of paper explaining 'why we shouldn't use magic to torment the muggles' before lifting off the notification," said Harry a little more hotly than he expected.

Luna got a curious look on her face, but Harry told her it was a story for later. Hermione, on the other hand, looked a bit put off by that.

"It 'disappears', you say? Well, from what you're saying it doesn't seem like it just appeared from nothing, does it? The Ministry should disclose this in their letter! This is kind of absurd, isn't it? And they're using the 'oh-so-mysterious magic' as their excuse. It's a bit too convenient, don't you think? I hardly doubt that to be true."

"I wouldn't jump to that conclusion that fast, Hermione. Magic does have a tendency to latch on these strange conventions. Above all, it loves randomness. Or so says my dad." Luna grinned a little before changing her focus to Ron again. "Ron, my family does have one similar spell—yours are not the only ones. So say: do you want to learn it?"

Ron weighed his options before opening his mouth to speak. Harry was as confused as he was, it seemed. Neville looked at Luna rather strangely, as if he was still trying to get over the first exchanged words between them ("is that doxy poop on your trousers? I have heard it was good for warding off nifflers, especially the Dutch-speaking ones"). Hermione appeared to be a mixture between disbelief and mirth—she was certainly overloaded with questions, but Luna always seemed to sidestep her. Ginny's eyes—her eyes, however, were challenging him.

"Well, it can't hurt it, can it?" He said.

'It was a fake one, after all, wasn't it?' Thought Ron. He glanced again at his sister, and saw that mad gleam in her eye, again.

'Wasn't it?'

Luna seemed delighted that someone was bold enough to learn her spell. She took her wand out and made some silly movements, grinning and laughing as she taught Ron. Harry had a keen eye for that kind of thing, especially because of all his special lessons with Prof. Flitwick. Now that he concentrated on it, he was almost sure she was writing 'fort' with her wand. Well, not quite—the 'o' had something extra, but he couldn't find another letter close enough to it.

She was a great teacher, even. Ron seemed to get it quickly enough.

"Moonshine, stars, white clouds and grass, take off the pale light and put into my—"

"Hands! Yes, that's just it," said Luna clapping. "Do it, then!"

Ron cleared his throat one more time and prepared himself. Luna looked at him in apprehension. Ron hesitated.

"Any animal, you say?"

Luna inclined her head to the side.

"Well, it does help if we had a frog, but we'll manage with Scabbers just fine, I bet," she said, shrugging.

Ron glanced at her one more time before doing the spell. And … nothing happened. If rats could have unimpressed faces, that was what Scabbers was sporting right now, looking directly at the tip of Ron's wand.

"Hey, it didn't work!"

Luna adjusted her headband before answering.

"Well, it seems it is more of a frog thing, then. Sorry, Ron."

Ron shrugged before pocketing Scabbers back in. Ginny chuckled, before she was joined by Neville. Hermione quickly got on, and glanced at Ron before asking Luna.

"Well, what happens now?" Luna looked at her in confusion. "What if he doesn't teach the spell to someone?"

Ginny grinned widely at her.

"What happens … You, Hermione, said this was all gibberish," said Ron.

"Well," Ginny began. "There was this one time, do you remember, when Uncle Gideon came to lunch without one of his ears …"

Ron blanched.

"Wasn't that because he had a freak accident with a potion and managed to blow his ear out? It was temporary though, wasn't it?"

'Wasn't it?'

"Or," Ginny began devilishly. "He just forgot to wear his fake ears that day? They are always having accidents with potions and spells, after all. They had to be prepared for it. They are idiots but they are smart idiots, just like Fred and George. And Uncle Gideon was always more sceptical about these things—suppose he learned it the hard way?"

Ron looked at her in absolute horror. He glanced at Luna, panickly.

Luna, however, had totally changed her demeanour. Where before she was lightly quipping and telling jokes, she looked rather miserable now. She gulped before stammering out an answer.

"You—you—turn ginger. That's it. So—no harm done, I think," she answered his silent question before getting up. "Sorry, Ron. I mean—I'll be right back, excuse me."

The compartment was silent after her departure. A few moments passed before Ginny suddenly got very red. She put her hands on her face before moaning in frustration.

"What is it, Ginny? What's going on?"

She turned towards Ron with an ashamed expression.

"Do you remember that potioneer who died in an accident at her home some three years ago? The one where they kept talking about for weeks?"

Ron nodded.

"Well, that's just the thing," she whispered. "I think she was Luna's mother. Now that I think about it, she was named Pandora—"

"Pandora—" began Hermione, bouncing off her seat as if a fire had suddenly lit up under it. "She was a Lovegood, wasn't she? Pandora Lovegood?" She exclaimed excitedly before deflating. "She's Luna's mother? Oh, poor girl."

"She was famous?" Harry asked her.

She hesitated to answer, but it was Neville who explained it to Harry. His tone surprised Harry.

"Well, she was not famous per se . Most people would call her, hmm, very ambitious, I think. Her potions had always been a bit weird. Uncle Algie once complained that she had been expelled from the Governor of Loncastre Potioneer Board because she had written wrong instructions on how to brew her potions. It was a mad scandal, too, because she was a Moon before marriage and their family practically owned the place—at least the magical part of it, of course."

Hermione glared at Neville.

"Just because she'd used unconventional methods, that doesn't mean she was purposefully leading them on, Neville!"

Neville rubbed his chin before answering her.

"Hmm—Hermione, how familiar are you with Magical Creatures?"

It was Hermione's turn to blush.

"Well, I read a bit on them every now and then. What about it?"

Neville considered her answer before replying.

"Do you know what a niffler is?"

She blushed at his question, before getting a bit angry. It seemed she was yet to outgrow that pride of hers—the fact that Neville, of everyone, was asking her about it wasn't of much help either. It was as if she couldn't be more scandalised—par for the course for Hermione, and it would be for at least a few too many months. Neville—as sweet as he always was—made a placating gesture with his hands, nonetheless, even as she answered it—with far less anger than I would've imagined. There it was: progress!

"I—I've read about them. They are related to mines, aren't they?"

Neville rapidly agreed.

"What else?"

Hermione glared at the boy, as he kept expecting her to answer. Ron laughed at the whole thing.

"Good one, Neville. One hundred points to Gryffindor—at Trivia, could you imagine that? Give those Claws a hard time for us."

"Well, that's not totally fair, is it?" Ah, there it was. "We'll have Care of Magical Creatures only the next term, after all. Secondly, it is not like I have loads of free time to read whatever I want. Thirdly, do you really forgot that if it wasn't Prof. Dumbledore teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts last year, you'd have failed—"

Ron got angry at that. Rightfully so—that was a low blow!

"Well, it's not my fault the guy had You-Know-Who on the back of his head—"

"Fourthly," continued Hermione as if he hadn't even bothered to answer her. "Both of my parents are dentists, and I need not to tell what a ten-year headstart means—"

"Were you reading from birth, Hermione? Come on—"

"And fifthly—"

"Hey, cut it off. That's enough!" — "Hermione, stop, please," said Harry and Neville trying to intervene in the fight.

It took some words and some precious moments until they were finally civil again.

Harry grabbed his robes and put on his silver-and-blue tie, pausing only to adjust it for a moment before going for the door; he always used the uniform when he could—they were his best clothes, after all. Ginny was hot on his tails. Neville got up, but chose to remain at the compartment once he saw Ron hesitate to say something back to Hermione.

"Oh, I really messed up here, didn't I?" Ginny asked as they checked the train for Luna.

Harry didn't answer at first. But as he thought about it, he didn't think it was fair to the girl.

"You didn't know. We can't know everything—"

But she stomped her feet. If anyone dared say that was the same girl who hid blushes from him when he first got to the Burrow, he wouldn't risk believing them. His tirades on those 'Harry Potter' books— Harry Potter and the Sword of Time , really?—and their playing everyday was enough to at least overcome that initial obstacle—an obstacle he would be willfully blind to if not for Fabian Prewett's quips at him.

That didn't mean that she wouldn't blush like a tomato at certain times, however. Like that moment, when she realised he had put his hand on her shoulder. He realised it too, but let it go as naturally as he could, however.

Or it could be related to her next statement.

"Well, the thing is: I played with her a lot when we were younger. That I didn't associate her mother with the potions thing—oh, she must think I'm a terrible person."

"So you knew each other, then?"

"Well, we live kind of close. She played more with the Fawcetts than with us, really, at least before they moved. I think our mums weren't that much of each other's fans, though," she said laughing. "In fact, I think it's even worse. I still remember when mum told her she preferred cooking some things by hand, as it was as magical as boiling a cauldron full of potion. Well, not with these words, either, but you get what I mean."

Harry smiled at that.

"She mustn't have taken that so well, then, I gather."

"Oh, no. I think she was gracious enough. Or she just didn't catch on to it. No, she would definitely catch on—she must have just pretended not to, to not upset things. It was mum who was too embarrassed to floo her again. And I think you know mum enough already: leave her overlooking a stew for too much of a time and she'll go crazy about not doing stuff to it, to at least make it better. That's why she's always busy, and why we still buy Wiggenweld rather than make it. And she won't let Dad or Bill or even Percy do it, too."

Harry laughed at that. While Mrs Weasley certainly valued things done by hand, he had seen her sneak her wave around some repetitive and boring tasks when she thought they weren't looking. And he'd never seen her doing potions now that he thought about it. They needed to build character, but she'd had her fair share built already, he supposed.

"For the record: I absolutely agree with your mother. Her food is simply magical."

Ginny beamed at him.

"Yes, it is."

They walked in silence for some time, before Harry asked Ginny.

"Why was Neville talking about creatures before—well, before—"

"Before Ron and Hermione, you mean. Are they always like that?"

Harry snorted. "It was worse actually. When I was sorted in Ravenclaw, Ron thought Hermione was dragging me to the library to get away from him. He said some pretty nasty words to her, and it took Neville, of everyone, to smack some sense into him."

"Neville seems to be a great guy."

"Ah, yes he's the best. He still says sorry about doing it to Ron to this day, though. And that toad of his—I won't even begin. So, about the creatures—"

"Oh, yes. Forgot we were talking about it. Remember when Luna told her father had a newspaper?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, it's not your traditional newspaper. It is absolutely bonkers. Conspiracies, strange rumours, plants and creatures abound, and he's completely serious with the whole thing. Dad loves it. I'll pay some good money to see Hermione's face when she reads it. The thing is—I'm not sure, but it would be very fitting—she must've said she used some of those invented creatures and plants in her potions."

Harry's eyebrows went up.

"And how does Hermione not know that?"

Ginny got red again.

"That's the thing: a lot of people blamed themselves for her death, so they used her as a kind of model for young witches and what not—a smart, pureblood, independent potioneer. The Ministry always makes these awards, and she was chosen one year. And as Neville said, the Moons were kind of influential, too. Don't think they took it too kindly to that."

"Moon. I think there's someone in Hogwarts with that name—"

Ginny grinned a little.

"Was it perhaps Artemis Moon?"

Harry thought for a moment but nodded negatively.

"No, I don't think so."

Ginny's eyebrows shut up at that.

"Really. You don't know a Artemis Moon? You really must get off Ravenclaw Tower, Harry. Lily Moon, perhaps?"

Harry slapped his forehead.

"Yes, that's her. I think she's in our year. Hufflepuff, I think."

Ginny looked at him with an inscrutable face.

"She's a Slytherin, actually."

Harry blinked at her.

"You seem to know an awful lot about these things, don't you?"

She looked at him for a moment too long before answering.

"Wow, you really—never mind that, it's actually impressive," she said before facing the corridor again and returning to the search for Luna.

"Hey, hey, what's impressive?" Yelled Harry, running after her.

It did take them a few minutes to track Luna down. Her eyes were red, and she was much more subdued than when they first started talking. She tried to hide it from them, and they pretended they hadn't seen it, but it was clear enough for all those present that she was greatly upset. Ginny was torn between acknowledging it and going with her pretence, so she reverted back to the Weasley way of treating these kinds of things. They went to buy her some sugary chocolate cake from the bar and talked to her for some more time before they—at least Ginny and Luna—had to go back to change into their uniforms.

She surprised them, at one point.

"I'm—I'm spent, if I'm honest. I never really had to talk to so many people at once."

Ginny grinned at her and patted her shoulder. Harry gathered she must have been as nervous as he was last year, trying to put on a brave and socially outgoing face while talking to Ron, Hermione and Neville on their way to Hogwarts. He had managed to sustain his mask for a few hours, at best—he was lucky his friends still liked what was behind it, still.

And he liked this Luna.

"Well, it is overbearing at times, but you get used to it."

Luna grinned at his answer.

"Well, I wouldn't mind that."

"Well," began Harry. "You might as well not. You'll have to put up with us for at least six years, of course; seven years if we count Ginny in."

"You can count me in!" She piped in.

Luna seemed without words for a moment, only nodding and seeping on some fruity mix. They were surprised only a few moments later by her getting out of her chair and hugging them both. Harry stiffened a little, having received more hugs per day than he had any right to get accustomed to already, but answered it with one of his own. Ginny laughed at his stiffness, with a blush ever-present nonetheless.

"So, who wants to bet that Hermione and Ron are still fighting?" Harry said.

And they were, on the ethics of Beaters in Quidditch matches. Harry wouldn't want to touch that with a stick the size of Hagrid, and Ginny usually preferred to build the fire larger rather than try and contain it. Neville had seemingly given up and was reading a Herbology book, clearly tired of those two.

But the new addition to their group quickly proved her value when she absolutely managed to shut them both with a big hug.

Luna Lovegood was an odd cookie; she was one of the best, however.