Meeting by the Willow, Challenge: Whomping Willow
Neville sat watching the Whomping Willow whip its branches wildly against the grey winter sky. The tree slapped at itself, smashing brittle limbs and sending them crashing to the ground with loud thumps. Damp soaked through his cloak and robe onto the seat of his trousers, but he didn’t care. He needed to get away from people and the wet lawn behind the Whomping Willow was as empty a place as he could find. Getting away was hard to do at Hogwarts; a place where he could be lonely but never alone, surrounded by a crowd with nowhere to go to be by himself.
“That tree is angry even for a Whomping Willow. I wonder why?”
Neville turned around. The girl from the train was standing behind him. She now wore three necklaces of butterbeer corks, one dyed red another blue and a third, probably the original, remained its natural color. A single green shoe tied with red laces and a two week old copy of The Daily Prophet were tucked under her arm. Even rolled up he knew the exact edition of the newspaper she was carrying; he could hear the jeers of the escaped Death Eaters from out of the front page. By know he had the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange memorized. He felt surprised by the sight of the newspaper, almost disappointed. He wouldn’t have expected Luna to read the same stories that everyone else did.
“You know, the willow would be the perfect place to hide things, if you could get past the murderous branches of course.” She sighed. “I don’t suppose hiding my things would be worth the risk.” She turned to him. “You haven’t seen a girl’s shoe? It matches this one.” Her strange eyes looked dreamy and unfocused, like the patients in his parent’s ward after they’d been given a potion.
Luna knelt down in the grass next to him, sitting back on her ankles and spread the newspaper out on her lap, open to the page that showed his mother’s and father’s pictures from their days as Aurors. They waved happily from out of their contented past. He jerked his head from them and caught her staring at him. Her eyes didn’t blink as if this was a contest to see who could go the longest without breaking their gaze. He looked away first and turned back to the willow. The tree had yanked a branch out of itself and was waving it in the air before sending it flying.
“You’re nobody from the train.”
He turned back to her. She smoothed the newspaper page, resting her hand on the picture of his parents. What was she doing with a two week old newspaper, now? Everyone else had moved on and found new and more interesting things to talk about.
“Bold Gryffindor from wild moor… Daring, nerve and chivalry set Gryffindors apart.” She laughed the crazy way she had the first time he met her. “You are their son. I can see that.”
Neville shook his head.
No, please, don’t talk about this. Don’t say mad things about my parents. I don’t want to hear daft theories about them and fake animals and ministry conspiracies, not now. I don’t think I can stand it.
Crack. They both jumped at the sound. About ten feet from where they were sitting a branch from the willow hit the ground and splintered into pieces.
“The willow looks like its pulling its own hair out,” Luna said. She watched the tree for awhile and then out of the blue asked, “Are you testing to see how long you can go without talking before people notice?” She smiled. “I tried something like that once, but people caught on right away. They have something to say about everything I do.”
Neville winced. He wasn’t in the mood for this, but he was surprised that anyone had noticed that he wasn’t talking. Even he hadn’t really thought about it.
“I watch you when you come to DA meetings. You used to walk in with Dean and Lavender, and sometimes with a whole crowd of Gryffindors, but not any more, now you come alone and you don’t talk to anyone. Then I started watching you at meals. Now instead of chatting -- I used to envy all the people you chatted with at your table, by the way, no one wants to talk to me - you just stare at your plate. So I guessed that you decided to stop talking.” She didn’t look mad; her eyes were clear and calm, almost peaceful. “So how long are you planning on keeping this up?” Luna asked.
Neville hadn’t completely given up talking. He wasn’t a complete nutter. He answered if the Professors asked him questions in class, not that that happened very often. He dropped his eyes onto the newspaper in her lap. His parents waved at him again. He could hear Bellatrix Lestrange’s muffled shouting from her place folded inside the newspaper pages.
“I suppose you could do this all term, but I think it would get boring after a while. Don’t you?” Luna asked. He hadn’t noticed before, but she had a wand tucked behind one ear and a quill behind the other.
The annoyance he felt toward her earlier welled up more sharply. Why had she come, and why was she watching him? Most of all, why was she walking around pretending to be crazy when other people couldn’t pretend to be normal no matter how much they tried?
“When my mother died I thought about not talking, but I couldn’t. My dad needed me to talk to him too much.”
He swallowed and squinched up his eyes. His throat felt funny. A vague feeling of guilt floated around him forcing words out of him. He took a deep breathe and blew the air slowly from his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said, “about your mum I mean.” Then he remembered her remark about having no one to talk to at meals. “I’m sorry that people ignore you at your table too.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
The tree sent another of its branches tossed through the air, but this time it landed far from where they sat, making the noise less disturbing. The sky was growing dim the tree limbs more shadowed. It was getting late. Neville stood and offered Luna his hand. “It’s almost time for the DA. We’d better go.”
“Wonderful,” she replied. “I’ll have someone to walk me into the meeting.”
Neville sighed. Another branch crashed to the ground behind them.
“You know,” Luna said, “I think it’s the rage that makes that tree beautiful.”
.
“That tree is angry even for a Whomping Willow. I wonder why?”
Neville turned around. The girl from the train was standing behind him. She now wore three necklaces of butterbeer corks, one dyed red another blue and a third, probably the original, remained its natural color. A single green shoe tied with red laces and a two week old copy of The Daily Prophet were tucked under her arm. Even rolled up he knew the exact edition of the newspaper she was carrying; he could hear the jeers of the escaped Death Eaters from out of the front page. By know he had the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange memorized. He felt surprised by the sight of the newspaper, almost disappointed. He wouldn’t have expected Luna to read the same stories that everyone else did.
“You know, the willow would be the perfect place to hide things, if you could get past the murderous branches of course.” She sighed. “I don’t suppose hiding my things would be worth the risk.” She turned to him. “You haven’t seen a girl’s shoe? It matches this one.” Her strange eyes looked dreamy and unfocused, like the patients in his parent’s ward after they’d been given a potion.
Luna knelt down in the grass next to him, sitting back on her ankles and spread the newspaper out on her lap, open to the page that showed his mother’s and father’s pictures from their days as Aurors. They waved happily from out of their contented past. He jerked his head from them and caught her staring at him. Her eyes didn’t blink as if this was a contest to see who could go the longest without breaking their gaze. He looked away first and turned back to the willow. The tree had yanked a branch out of itself and was waving it in the air before sending it flying.
“You’re nobody from the train.”
He turned back to her. She smoothed the newspaper page, resting her hand on the picture of his parents. What was she doing with a two week old newspaper, now? Everyone else had moved on and found new and more interesting things to talk about.
“Bold Gryffindor from wild moor… Daring, nerve and chivalry set Gryffindors apart.” She laughed the crazy way she had the first time he met her. “You are their son. I can see that.”
Neville shook his head.
No, please, don’t talk about this. Don’t say mad things about my parents. I don’t want to hear daft theories about them and fake animals and ministry conspiracies, not now. I don’t think I can stand it.
Crack. They both jumped at the sound. About ten feet from where they were sitting a branch from the willow hit the ground and splintered into pieces.
“The willow looks like its pulling its own hair out,” Luna said. She watched the tree for awhile and then out of the blue asked, “Are you testing to see how long you can go without talking before people notice?” She smiled. “I tried something like that once, but people caught on right away. They have something to say about everything I do.”
Neville winced. He wasn’t in the mood for this, but he was surprised that anyone had noticed that he wasn’t talking. Even he hadn’t really thought about it.
“I watch you when you come to DA meetings. You used to walk in with Dean and Lavender, and sometimes with a whole crowd of Gryffindors, but not any more, now you come alone and you don’t talk to anyone. Then I started watching you at meals. Now instead of chatting -- I used to envy all the people you chatted with at your table, by the way, no one wants to talk to me - you just stare at your plate. So I guessed that you decided to stop talking.” She didn’t look mad; her eyes were clear and calm, almost peaceful. “So how long are you planning on keeping this up?” Luna asked.
Neville hadn’t completely given up talking. He wasn’t a complete nutter. He answered if the Professors asked him questions in class, not that that happened very often. He dropped his eyes onto the newspaper in her lap. His parents waved at him again. He could hear Bellatrix Lestrange’s muffled shouting from her place folded inside the newspaper pages.
“I suppose you could do this all term, but I think it would get boring after a while. Don’t you?” Luna asked. He hadn’t noticed before, but she had a wand tucked behind one ear and a quill behind the other.
The annoyance he felt toward her earlier welled up more sharply. Why had she come, and why was she watching him? Most of all, why was she walking around pretending to be crazy when other people couldn’t pretend to be normal no matter how much they tried?
“When my mother died I thought about not talking, but I couldn’t. My dad needed me to talk to him too much.”
He swallowed and squinched up his eyes. His throat felt funny. A vague feeling of guilt floated around him forcing words out of him. He took a deep breathe and blew the air slowly from his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said, “about your mum I mean.” Then he remembered her remark about having no one to talk to at meals. “I’m sorry that people ignore you at your table too.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
The tree sent another of its branches tossed through the air, but this time it landed far from where they sat, making the noise less disturbing. The sky was growing dim the tree limbs more shadowed. It was getting late. Neville stood and offered Luna his hand. “It’s almost time for the DA. We’d better go.”
“Wonderful,” she replied. “I’ll have someone to walk me into the meeting.”
Neville sighed. Another branch crashed to the ground behind them.
“You know,” Luna said, “I think it’s the rage that makes that tree beautiful.”
.