002
WHAT OF MAGIC IF NOT FLIGHTS OF WHIMSY
Chapter 2: Of Edmund Bluewing and Ghost Theories

Things were notably shaken already.

Of course none of them had ever thought nothing out of the ordinary would come of it—they were terribly mistaken, of course. Meeting Luna Lovegood wasn't something a person could do without having at least two or three big questions popping up in their heads.

It didn't take long enough for something to change; for the questions to begin seeping in. In fact, it took a mere three minutes since they departed.

The train trip was rather unremarkable after the afternoon blunders. Luna talked a little about her father and about 'The Quibbler'. Harry could see Hermione bottling up a barrage of questions, but he supposed she was trying not to be too much for the girl to handle, primarily because she'd been greatly upset that day already. Neville, similarly, was more subdued—though the reason for that Harry didn't know yet. Ginny was in her element, absolutely loving to let Luna go on with her great theories and explanations. Ron, similarly, was greatly enjoying talking to her about the origins of magic.

"It doesn't have anything to do with blood. If trees have magic, why don't they have blood in them?"

Luna nodded.

"I agree completely. Though there is a certain kind of tree that has blood in it if I'm not mistaken," she said, scrunching her face in concentration. "There definitely is, now that I think about it."

"Are you sure you're not absolutely mistaken, Luna?" Said Hermione, in one of the few moments she slipped up.

Luna straightened herself to answer Hermione.

"Of course not. I remember it more clearly now. It was in fact one of the birds who live near the Rookery that told me!"

Hermione's eyelids trembled as she took that into consideration.

"And when did you meet this—bird?"

"Ah, it was a long time ago. It's been a long time since I have had the opportunity to talk to them. But I remember, still. He liked being called Edmund."

"Edmund, really?"

Luna nodded back at her.

"Yes, he thought 'swallow' was a terrible name, and he was wanting to make a bit more of himself now that the weather was clearing up a bit. He thought, and I agreed, that Edmund was as dashing of a name as any other. He was very content with it. Edmund Bluewing—it fitted him quite well, in my opinion."

Hermione blinked, absolutely dumbfounded.

It went like this for the better part of the day before night rolled out and the train finally stopped. Harry thanked his luck that no one had bothered to—well—bother them this time, and that no freakish accidents had occurred—the platform sealing him and Mr Weasley out was already too much drama for the day.

Ron took out his red-and-gold tie and passed it to Ginny when they thought no one was looking. He mussed up her hair and directed her in Hagrid's direction. She stole a hug out of him before he could complain, though. Luna, seemingly imitating Ginny did the same before quickly scurrying back to where Ginny was.

Harry shook his head, finding the situation quite funny. Neville was helping Hermione off the train, who had a glazed look as she glanced at the crowds ahead of them. She was mumbling to herself from time to time. It seemed she had beyond her share of Luna Lovegood that day already.

"Let's go. I don't fancy the trek up, but the earlier we get there, the earlier we can get something to bite," Ron said, even as his and Neville's stomachs growled up.

Harry groaned before he followed them.

Something had happened to the magical driverless carriages last term and they were forced to make the walk from the castle's gates to Hogsmeade Station on their own. Nobody knew what happened, but Harry knew Fred and George just enough to know that they were involved somewhat.

Well, that and the fact that Gryffindor lost a great deal of points just before the end-of-the-year ceremony were great clues in itself. Malfoy had been a downright prat that last day, swaggering around in his gaudy green-and-silver robes for everyone to see his 'Slytherin pride' after they took the cup right from Gryffindor's grasp.

Prof. McGonagall seemed to have swallowed a lemon at the end-of-the-year banquet.

They were pleasantly surprised, however, to see that they had fixed the carriages. More than that, there was something new about them.

While the majority of the students happily laughed at the sight of them and quickly clambered up to the carts, a select few were glancing at them from a distance, hesitating.

Harry was one of them, as was Neville if Harry was reading him correctly.

It was a decrepit-looking creature, with more skin than flesh, with bat-like wings and thin legs that ended in mean-looking hooves. Its eyes were white and foggy, but with the way they had looked into Harry's he knew that fog wouldn't cloud his senses if it wanted to hurt him. He didn't feel threatened by them, however. The one that would pull their car even inclined its head his way.

He jumped a little, but calmed himself. He remembered Hagrid talking about Fluffy as if he was a lap dog and used that to mount up his courage. He patted its head and was surprised by how soft it was, even if it was a bit sharp around the edges. The creature bared its teeth—its pointy, glistening white fangs—at him almost as if it was smiling, before shaking his hand off and looking pointedly ahead.

"Erm, Harry, what are you doing?"

Harry glanced at the rest of his friends. Hermione was looking strangely at him, Neville was pointedly not looking at him and Ron was baffled by him patting the air in front of the carriage.

"You can't see them, can you?"

Hermione shook her head before glaring at him.

"This is not funny, Harry. I don't mind Luna, but it doesn't suit you, really."

Harry blinked at her.

"Can't you see this—this horse pulling the carriage? Can't you see the wings? Look, its tail almost got you Ron."

Ron jumped back at his mention.

"I—okay, Harry, whatever you say. You don't need to pretend with us, okay?"

Harry was confused with his answer.

"What do you mean? It's right here, look." Harry patted the creature's head, but it didn't bother looking back to him. "Hey, why are you ignoring me now?"

The horse shook his mane but didn't look at him.

"Fine, you pompous bat-horse. No sugar for you," Harry said. The horse looked sideways at him, as if it was checking him up. "Ah, that got your attention!" It pretended to ignore him again. "Fine, whatever you want then—"

"Harry!" Hermione hissed at him from the carriage. "Get inside, you're making a scene."

Harry looked around and saw indeed that a few people were looking strangely at him. He saw Cedric Diggory looking at him as if he was growing a third head, he saw Fred and George feigning a hammering gesture to each other's heads in his direction and saw Blaise Zabini laughing with a blonde girl and a redhead girl laughing at his direction. He thought their names were Daphne Greengrass and—was that Lily Moon? He couldn't be sure—it had to be, like, the fifth time he saw their faces since their Sorting, it seemed. Theodore Nott, on the other hand, was not laughing at him. Rather, he was looking directly into his eyes—his expression was unreadable, however.

Harry jumped into the car, sulking. Ron stole glances to the front of the car, and turned his head fast in the direction of it from time to time as if he was hoping to catch whatever Harry had seen before it could vanish. It wasn't necessary, however, because Harry could see it as clearly as he could see the pale faces of his own friends, visible by the moonlight that washed over them.

"Harry, look at the ground, please."

Harry was surprised at Hermione's request. He looked at it and—

"No footprints beside the ones the wheels make. Are you sure you didn't let Luna's stories influence you a bit much? Perhaps we should talk to someone about it—"

Harry hesitated for a bit. He wanted to yank Hermione's arm and put it right on the thing's back to make her see, but if there was one thing he learned from his magical education already is that the experience of the senses was never universal. He didn't doubt that if he guided Hermione's hands through it, she would feel nothing. The universe would make it a law, just to spite him!

'Above all, it loves randomness,' he remembered Luna talking.

He glanced at Neville, who was making an over-the-top point not to look at it. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at him.

"Neville, you can see them, can't you? The—horses pulling the carriage. Look at it, please."

Neville's eyes searched his, and Harry was surprised by the emotions behind it. Neville was always a kind soul, like an open book before his friends. Something had changed in him, however. Ron and Hermione noticed that, too, and paid close attention to his answer. He looked right to the front of the carriage, and Harry could see the creature reflected in his pale eyes. He looked right back at Harry, though, and answered.

"I don't see anything pulling the carriage," he hesitated before continuing. "Sometimes stories are just stories, Harry—nothing more." He pulled his robes around him. "I think you should see Madame Pomfrey when we get to the castle," he finished before looking away from him.

Hermione nodded vigorously, satisfied that someone had agreed with her. Ron, however, was trying to read Neville with a curious glance. Harry was without words for a second, and was only distracted from his thoughts when Ron engaged him into a conversation about the Quidditch World Cup, which was currently being held in Canada; Hermione talked to Neville about second-year herbology.

The mood was quite lighter when they finally disembarked right in front of the main bridge to the castle. Neville and Hermione were happily chatting away about Scottish Watervines and See-Through Corals. Ron held Harry up for just a second, though.

"Harry. I won't say I'm not worried. Luna was charming enough, but you have to understand that 'The Quibbler' isn't exactly a comedy magazine. I've read some of them, and you won't believe some of the conspiracies. Dad finds them funny, but Uncle Fabian said once to me that a few higher-ups in the Ministry had quite the grudge over old man Lovegood."

Harry mulled over what he was saying.

"But Ron, it is right there, right in front of me, can't you see it?"

Ron looked to where he was pointing—he looked right through it.

"The only thing I can see from here are the little boats the first years are currently in, Harry," he said before lifting his arm. "Here, guide my arm, so we solve this once and for all."

Harry hesitated before grabbing Ron's wrist and carefully getting it to the creature's flanks. The horse turned to look at Harry, and he could swear that it shook his head side-from-side to him, warning him. He didn't continue after that.

Ron, seeing Harry pausing, wriggled his fingers around.

"See, Harry, nothing."

Harry let go off his arm. Ron, seeing his doubtful face, and wanting to end his friend's worries once and for all, took a step further before bringing down his arm right where the creature was. Harry yelled at him and tried to stop him but it was too late.

It was too late and Ron's hands—

Ron's hands went right through it, as if the horse was a ghost.

"See, there's nothing here, Harry. Try it yourself."

Harry went closer to the horse's head. It was looking deeply into his eyes. It muzzled his hands and Harry caressed it behind the ear.

"Yes, there's nothing. It's just—it's just air."

Ron grinned at him, before pulling him in the direction of the crowds.

"Told you, mate. Now, let's get in quickly. Perhaps they have something laying around before the feast, and we didn't know about it."

He let himself be pulled, but looked back at the horse nodding at him from afar, his milky white eyes looking deeply into his, as if he was trying to talk through it: I exist, I can see you, you can see me.

Harry shook his head vigorously and it was still there.

Harry clapped politely whenever someone was sorted. The mood was contagious enough that he had somewhat forgotten about the bat-horse thing. Even Hermione seemed to be enjoying herself as she welcomed the students that joined Ravenclaw with them.

"Lovegood, Luna," announced Prof. McGonagall.

And it came all crashing down at him, again. She saw her skipping to the little stool before the whole school, and let out a chuckle as she said 'hi' to both Prof. McGonagall and the Sorting Hat. A few crucial moments later and she was sorted.

"Ravenclaw!"

Harry clapped, happy that Luna was joining them. He supposed if she went to Gryffindor, she would be best suited as Ginny was probably going there, too, but Ravenclaw was the best Hogwarts house, and she couldn't go wrong with this one, too.

There were already some first-years on the open seats besides him, and he regretted not remembering about saving a space for her or for Ginny in case she was sorted with the Claws.

That wasn't a problem, however, because Luna had politely asked the scared first-years to make a space for her right next to Hermione. Hermione chuckled even as her eyes kept that reserved and calculating gleam. She glanced at Harry before looking at Luna once more.

"Welcome to Ravenclaw, Luna!" Said Harry.

"Welcome to the best house in Hogwarts," Hermione added. "Where we study till our eyes drain, where courage is a fool's vain, where power is a pointless aim, where hard work alone is a frivolous strain—"

Harry chimed in.

" —where minds train and find knowledge a pleasure, for wit beyond measure—"

" —is man's greatest treasure," Luna completed before clapping, something which the other first years observed amusedly.

Harry grinned at her before quietly clapping with her. Hermione patted the girl's back in congratulations.

They turned their attention towards the ceremony and clapped happily when Ginny joined the rest of her brothers in Gryffindor. They waved at her, and the Weasleys waved back at them.

It wasn't long before the feast appeared and Harry could delight himself again in that wonderful mix of smells and flavours.

"Say, Hermione: are these goblets really made of gold? I heard quite the story about them. It involved a daring goblin and three not-so-smart wizards, have you ever heard of it?"

Hermione frowned a little, but engaged in conversation with the girl. Harry grinned at the pair. Luna could be a bit much, at times, but he loved her tales, nonetheless. He looked forward to the many upcoming adventures and stories.

And that was good for him, of course. Because there would be plenty of them, soon enough.

He had a theory to test, however. He spotted the aloof Ravenclaw's ghost making small talk with a few of the seventh-years and made a wave to her. The ghost was curious about him and came over to his place at the table.

She had a haughty air around her that intimidated a lot of the newer students—Harry notedly amongst them. His curiosity got the better part of him, however. There was a way to test his theory. But how was he to go about it?

Although some of her clothes were ripped and damaged at some points, the details and beautiful trimmings and adornments she wore were enough clues of her standing before she died. He supposed a more traditional approach would be ideal.

"Grey Lady, how have you been this summer?" He said, extending his hand for hers.

She was surprised at his gallantry, but extended her hand nonetheless. If Harry was really looking for it, he would say he felt something on his lips as he kissed the back of her hand, but it was probably his bias.

Nevertheless, he didn't feel anything apart from that cold feeling whenever a ghost got too close—totally different from the solid and warm texture of the bat-horse. He smiled still and spoke with the formidable ghost.

But as we shall soon discover, this Harry Potter wasn't only sorted in Ravenclaw because of different circumstances on the train journey to Hogwarts, or because of small differences between that and universes more familiar to the reader. Rather, he had that strange social awkwardness that seemed to follow some formidable minds. He was, in his own words, as Luna would say it back to him someday—she did love that description—an odd cookie, too. Or, in other words, as Hermione was so helpful to remind him:

'Harry, you're making a scene!' She shouted mentally.

But that shouldn't matter. What use are social conventions to us if they are so eager to limit ourselves anyway? They weren't of much use—and Rowena Ravenclaw certainly would agree with it.

As Helena, her daughter did that evening. As Luna Lovegood did. As Hermione would, in time. But for now, she was still quite ensnared by her preconceived world views.

"Harry!" She hissed.

Harry blinked at her confusedly. She was looking alarmed all around him, while Luna was amusedly munching over a piece of pie.

Half of the hall was looking at him. Some glances, like Prof. Dumbledore's and Ron's were amused. Fred and George made wiggly motions with their eyebrows. Malfoy was looking at him as if he was a smear under his foot—nothing different there, then—and the Bloody Baron—

Wow, what was his problem with him?

He looked up and down Ravenclaw table, noticing the curious glances everyone was throwing at him. He inclined his head towards Hermione and whispered, a little more loudly than he expected.

"Hermione, am I making a scene?"

Hermione facepalmed before looking pointedly at him. Luna grinned and the Grey Lady let out a snort, something which approximately thirty-or-so generations of Ravenclaws could never claim that they have seen.

Well, that was enough of an answer—even for Harry.