Houses of Hogwarts Fest FIC: When Walking Through the Trees (G)
Title: When Walking Through the Trees
Author/Artist: Anie/wasureneba
House Category: Ravenclaw
Summary: Luna's favorite place at Hogwarts is, in fact, a tree.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Luna Lovegood
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
(Highlight to View) Warning(s): [None].
Can we link from Tumblr?: Yes
If yes, your Tumblr username: wasureneba
There's a little spot near Hagrid's hut that Luna has loved since her first year at Hogwarts. It's a sycamore tree, just a few paces into where the forest meets the field, just close enough to the forest edge that Luna can see Hagrid's hut and hear Hagrid's booming voice as a soft murmur. There's a little depression between the tree's roots that is comfortable to sit in with a book, and one of the branches grows sideways out toward the field and is, she has discovered, also an excellent place to sit with with a book. She's been coming here to this spot for the past three years, whenever she can sneak out and the weather's nice (and sometimes when she can sneak out and the weather's terrible). It makes her breathe easy, this spot does.
She likes to lie on the branch sometimes. It's an excellent vantage point for looking out toward the hut and the castle. She can watch people coming in and going, and listen to the birds singing here on the edge of the forest. She feels like a bird herself, up here, surrounded by the chut!chut! of red grouse and the deep kraa of hooded crows. She has a special fondness for the crows. She often thinks about what it would be like to be one--to have wings, to be able to fly over the lake and look down into its deep waters, to light on the sycamore's branch without climbing.
She is, however, an earthbound creature, and so she walks out the castle doors with a text on bicorns under her arm. She pads across the grass, goes into the pumpkin patches, and neatly skirts their edge to get to her tree. She always varies the path she takes to the tree; she has to admit that this tree is special to her, and she doesn't want to share it. Sometimes she goes through the stables into the forest, and doubles about; sometimes she goes to the lake and goes around its winding edge until she's near enough to her tree. Today, she leaves the pumpkin patches and darts into the forest under the branches of a rowan. She's not tried this path before; she's still, at the age of thirteen, learning the forest.
She steps lightly over the leaves. She's small still, and although she has the coltish appearance that so many girls do when they're growing, there's some grace in her limbs. It's easy to avoid disturbing the leaves, produce only the faintest sussurus with each step. She's concentrating on walking even more silently when she hears a sound coming from something that is emphatically not her. There's the rustling of other leaves, a soft snort. She stands as still as the trees around her, and carefully listens; she turns her head in the direction of the snorts.
It's dark in the forest, even during the middle of the day, and so it takes her a moment to make out the creatures moving under the trees. She finally glimpses movement, though, sees dappled sunlight on shiny black hide. Luna recognizes the creatures; they're the ones that draw the carriages.
The thestrals.
She turns slowly, carefully, and takes a few steps towards them. There are three of them, gathered at the edge of a clearing; two adults and what looks to be a yearling. One of the adults and the yearling are grooming each other, using their teeth to scratch the other's withers. The other adult is nosing about in the leaves. She knows that no one thinks of thestrals as majestic creatures, or even friendly ones; she's heard three words associated with them in her entire life, and they're death and bad luck. (But then, Luna hasn't been afraid of those in four years.)
She stands there, book under arm, and watches them. The thestrals move fluidly, even the yearling; they sniff and scratch and snort. They make her think of the Thoroughbreds that her and her father's neighbors keep; long-limbed things, built for speed. The thestrals are long-limbed, too, and they also have chiseled, delicate heads, and the same bright, intelligent eyes. It's their wings, though, that she finds fascinating; the skin and scalishness of them, their immense size, the way that they sway as the thestrals move, the way that the thestrals fold and unfold them to avoid the trees. She's rapt, and thirty minutes passes in the blink of an eye; They eventually amble off, into the clearing and away, and Luna stays rooted.
She eventually shakes her shoulders, tries to remember what she was doing; she heads back toward her tree, away from the direction that the thestrals have gone, and is less careful now about the noise that she makes. When she gets to the tree, she climbs right up it; the bark is smooth and welcoming under her hands. She makes her way to her favorite branch, and stretches out on it, belly pressed against branch. She rests her chin on her book, and doesn't even try to read; she just thinks, about the thestrals and the forest.
Anie of Ravenclaw/29 pts
Author/Artist: Anie/wasureneba
House Category: Ravenclaw
Summary: Luna's favorite place at Hogwarts is, in fact, a tree.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Luna Lovegood
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
(Highlight to View) Warning(s): [None].
Can we link from Tumblr?: Yes
If yes, your Tumblr username: wasureneba
There's a little spot near Hagrid's hut that Luna has loved since her first year at Hogwarts. It's a sycamore tree, just a few paces into where the forest meets the field, just close enough to the forest edge that Luna can see Hagrid's hut and hear Hagrid's booming voice as a soft murmur. There's a little depression between the tree's roots that is comfortable to sit in with a book, and one of the branches grows sideways out toward the field and is, she has discovered, also an excellent place to sit with with a book. She's been coming here to this spot for the past three years, whenever she can sneak out and the weather's nice (and sometimes when she can sneak out and the weather's terrible). It makes her breathe easy, this spot does.
She likes to lie on the branch sometimes. It's an excellent vantage point for looking out toward the hut and the castle. She can watch people coming in and going, and listen to the birds singing here on the edge of the forest. She feels like a bird herself, up here, surrounded by the chut!chut! of red grouse and the deep kraa of hooded crows. She has a special fondness for the crows. She often thinks about what it would be like to be one--to have wings, to be able to fly over the lake and look down into its deep waters, to light on the sycamore's branch without climbing.
She is, however, an earthbound creature, and so she walks out the castle doors with a text on bicorns under her arm. She pads across the grass, goes into the pumpkin patches, and neatly skirts their edge to get to her tree. She always varies the path she takes to the tree; she has to admit that this tree is special to her, and she doesn't want to share it. Sometimes she goes through the stables into the forest, and doubles about; sometimes she goes to the lake and goes around its winding edge until she's near enough to her tree. Today, she leaves the pumpkin patches and darts into the forest under the branches of a rowan. She's not tried this path before; she's still, at the age of thirteen, learning the forest.
She steps lightly over the leaves. She's small still, and although she has the coltish appearance that so many girls do when they're growing, there's some grace in her limbs. It's easy to avoid disturbing the leaves, produce only the faintest sussurus with each step. She's concentrating on walking even more silently when she hears a sound coming from something that is emphatically not her. There's the rustling of other leaves, a soft snort. She stands as still as the trees around her, and carefully listens; she turns her head in the direction of the snorts.
It's dark in the forest, even during the middle of the day, and so it takes her a moment to make out the creatures moving under the trees. She finally glimpses movement, though, sees dappled sunlight on shiny black hide. Luna recognizes the creatures; they're the ones that draw the carriages.
The thestrals.
She turns slowly, carefully, and takes a few steps towards them. There are three of them, gathered at the edge of a clearing; two adults and what looks to be a yearling. One of the adults and the yearling are grooming each other, using their teeth to scratch the other's withers. The other adult is nosing about in the leaves. She knows that no one thinks of thestrals as majestic creatures, or even friendly ones; she's heard three words associated with them in her entire life, and they're death and bad luck. (But then, Luna hasn't been afraid of those in four years.)
She stands there, book under arm, and watches them. The thestrals move fluidly, even the yearling; they sniff and scratch and snort. They make her think of the Thoroughbreds that her and her father's neighbors keep; long-limbed things, built for speed. The thestrals are long-limbed, too, and they also have chiseled, delicate heads, and the same bright, intelligent eyes. It's their wings, though, that she finds fascinating; the skin and scalishness of them, their immense size, the way that they sway as the thestrals move, the way that the thestrals fold and unfold them to avoid the trees. She's rapt, and thirty minutes passes in the blink of an eye; They eventually amble off, into the clearing and away, and Luna stays rooted.
She eventually shakes her shoulders, tries to remember what she was doing; she heads back toward her tree, away from the direction that the thestrals have gone, and is less careful now about the noise that she makes. When she gets to the tree, she climbs right up it; the bark is smooth and welcoming under her hands. She makes her way to her favorite branch, and stretches out on it, belly pressed against branch. She rests her chin on her book, and doesn't even try to read; she just thinks, about the thestrals and the forest.
Anie of Ravenclaw/29 pts