Ravenclaw Tower: After The Third Task
It’s for the best, not knowing what is to come.
Luna has always believed this in a vague sort of way. That knowing what troubles will come tomorrow would only serve to rob today of any joy. Since she has found Milliways and met people of her world who are further ahead in time than she is, Luna has been made to think about this philosophy in more concrete terms.
In the end, her opinion had remained unchanged.
Now Luna wonders exactly how wrongheaded she is about that.
Cedric Diggory is dead. And, Luna wonders, could anything have stopped it?
She talked to Hermione Granger just hours before. Not the Hermione Granger that Luna goes to school with, but a slightly older version in Milliways. She had said that she knew how the Tournament ended. Luna hadn’t wanted to know. But what if she had done differently? What if she had asked?
It likely wouldn’t have made any difference. Hermione is sensible, and in all likelihood would not have told her what was going to happen. And Luna had had no reason to believe that this night would end in any way other than the Task complete, the Triwizard Champion named, and a celebration.
She still feels guilty that she hadn’t even asked.
(Feelings are strange, and don’t always follow reasonable rules. Dad told her that, years ago.)
And if she had asked and had gotten an answer, would that have made a difference? Luna, despite what many of her peers may think, is not oblivious. She knows no one would have ever believed her.
Even if she had spoken directly with Cedric. He would have listened more politely than most, she imagines. And would probably have reassured her that there was nothing to worry about and walked right into that maze.
And come out……
Luna feels absurdly grateful when a shuffling sound pulls her out of her thoughts. She looks over her shoulder for the source.
It is, rather to her surprise, Sylvia, who is leaning against the wall next to where Luna is curled up in the corner of a window seat. Luna likes this window seat. She had gone straight for it when all the Ravenclaws had been gently herded back to their Tower, in spite of Professor Flitwick’s half-hearted suggestion that everyone try to get some rest.
No one took that suggestion to heart. It’s a quarter past two in the morning, and so far as Luna can tell, most of the Ravenclaws are still in the common room.
Sylvia is looking silently down at her with red-rimmed eyes, and Luna half wonders if she is pondering how exactly she came to be holding up this section of wall. Until the other girl shifts again slightly, and says, “Are you all right?”
It’s not what she’s expecting, and Luna hesitates for a moment before shaking her head.
“No. I’m not. Are you?”
Sylvia makes an uncomfortable gulping sound, and wipes at her eyes with the cuff of her shirt, pulled over the palm of her hand. She shakes her head.
Of course not. None of them are.
That’s why most of them are still here in the common room, Luna knows. No one really wants to be alone.
Most of them. One chair over by the hearth is now conspicuously empty. It’s the one Cho’s friends had steered her into when they got back to the tower. “Did Cho go upstairs?”
“They took her up about half an hour ago,” Sylvia says. “I think they’re going to try to get her to sleep.”
Luna nods, looking at the rest of the students gathered in the common room. The first years are sticking together in clumps. They all look tired. A few of them, she sees, have even managed to fall asleep in positions that will likely see them with sore necks in the morning. By contrast, some of the older students look like they have taken a double draught of Pepper-Up Potion. They sit fidgeting restlessly before bounding up out of their seats and walking purposefully for a few seconds. Then they stop, looking lost, like they had no idea why they got up in the first place, before trudging back and flopping down in their original seats again.
“I’d like to sleep,” Sylvia adds. “But it feels wrong to go to bed. Isn’t that stupid?”
“No,” Luna says after a moment. “Going to bed is what we do on an ordinary day. This day isn’t ordinary.”
“I suppose.” Sylvia stands leaning against the wall in silence for almost a full minute before pushing herself off again. “Well, I’ll leave you too…..I just wanted to make sure…..”
Luna nods, and Sylvia drifts away.
Going to bed does feel wrong, but people need to sleep sometime. Sylvia disappears upstairs sometime over the next hour or so, as do many of the others. Luna is far from the last holdout (it looks like that distinction is going to go to half a dozen Seventh Years who look determined not to rest again until justice and right are restored to the world). But the crowd has thinned considerably by the time she slides out of her corner and starts up the stairs to the dormitory.
A person can’t hide in a corner forever.
She has nothing on her mind except crawling into her bed and trying to sleep, and even Luna might not have noticed the box if it hadn’t been right outside the door to her room. And if it hadn’t been for a familiar green jumper on top she might well have ignored it.
Underneath the jumper is a pair of bedroom slippers. Seven pairs of socks. Two paint brushes. Three strands of beads. A comb….
Every single item that Luna had listed on the “Lost Things” flyer that she hasn’t had a chance to post yet.
That’s what people do, Luna thinks, feeling a small, unexpected surge of warmth. When there’s no possible way to fix big things they try to fix the small ones.
She picks up the box and, as carefully and quietly as she can, pushes open the door of her room.
With luck, her roommates have found sleep tonight.
Luna has always believed this in a vague sort of way. That knowing what troubles will come tomorrow would only serve to rob today of any joy. Since she has found Milliways and met people of her world who are further ahead in time than she is, Luna has been made to think about this philosophy in more concrete terms.
In the end, her opinion had remained unchanged.
Now Luna wonders exactly how wrongheaded she is about that.
Cedric Diggory is dead. And, Luna wonders, could anything have stopped it?
She talked to Hermione Granger just hours before. Not the Hermione Granger that Luna goes to school with, but a slightly older version in Milliways. She had said that she knew how the Tournament ended. Luna hadn’t wanted to know. But what if she had done differently? What if she had asked?
It likely wouldn’t have made any difference. Hermione is sensible, and in all likelihood would not have told her what was going to happen. And Luna had had no reason to believe that this night would end in any way other than the Task complete, the Triwizard Champion named, and a celebration.
She still feels guilty that she hadn’t even asked.
(Feelings are strange, and don’t always follow reasonable rules. Dad told her that, years ago.)
And if she had asked and had gotten an answer, would that have made a difference? Luna, despite what many of her peers may think, is not oblivious. She knows no one would have ever believed her.
Even if she had spoken directly with Cedric. He would have listened more politely than most, she imagines. And would probably have reassured her that there was nothing to worry about and walked right into that maze.
And come out……
Luna feels absurdly grateful when a shuffling sound pulls her out of her thoughts. She looks over her shoulder for the source.
It is, rather to her surprise, Sylvia, who is leaning against the wall next to where Luna is curled up in the corner of a window seat. Luna likes this window seat. She had gone straight for it when all the Ravenclaws had been gently herded back to their Tower, in spite of Professor Flitwick’s half-hearted suggestion that everyone try to get some rest.
No one took that suggestion to heart. It’s a quarter past two in the morning, and so far as Luna can tell, most of the Ravenclaws are still in the common room.
Sylvia is looking silently down at her with red-rimmed eyes, and Luna half wonders if she is pondering how exactly she came to be holding up this section of wall. Until the other girl shifts again slightly, and says, “Are you all right?”
It’s not what she’s expecting, and Luna hesitates for a moment before shaking her head.
“No. I’m not. Are you?”
Sylvia makes an uncomfortable gulping sound, and wipes at her eyes with the cuff of her shirt, pulled over the palm of her hand. She shakes her head.
Of course not. None of them are.
That’s why most of them are still here in the common room, Luna knows. No one really wants to be alone.
Most of them. One chair over by the hearth is now conspicuously empty. It’s the one Cho’s friends had steered her into when they got back to the tower. “Did Cho go upstairs?”
“They took her up about half an hour ago,” Sylvia says. “I think they’re going to try to get her to sleep.”
Luna nods, looking at the rest of the students gathered in the common room. The first years are sticking together in clumps. They all look tired. A few of them, she sees, have even managed to fall asleep in positions that will likely see them with sore necks in the morning. By contrast, some of the older students look like they have taken a double draught of Pepper-Up Potion. They sit fidgeting restlessly before bounding up out of their seats and walking purposefully for a few seconds. Then they stop, looking lost, like they had no idea why they got up in the first place, before trudging back and flopping down in their original seats again.
“I’d like to sleep,” Sylvia adds. “But it feels wrong to go to bed. Isn’t that stupid?”
“No,” Luna says after a moment. “Going to bed is what we do on an ordinary day. This day isn’t ordinary.”
“I suppose.” Sylvia stands leaning against the wall in silence for almost a full minute before pushing herself off again. “Well, I’ll leave you too…..I just wanted to make sure…..”
Luna nods, and Sylvia drifts away.
Going to bed does feel wrong, but people need to sleep sometime. Sylvia disappears upstairs sometime over the next hour or so, as do many of the others. Luna is far from the last holdout (it looks like that distinction is going to go to half a dozen Seventh Years who look determined not to rest again until justice and right are restored to the world). But the crowd has thinned considerably by the time she slides out of her corner and starts up the stairs to the dormitory.
A person can’t hide in a corner forever.
She has nothing on her mind except crawling into her bed and trying to sleep, and even Luna might not have noticed the box if it hadn’t been right outside the door to her room. And if it hadn’t been for a familiar green jumper on top she might well have ignored it.
Underneath the jumper is a pair of bedroom slippers. Seven pairs of socks. Two paint brushes. Three strands of beads. A comb….
Every single item that Luna had listed on the “Lost Things” flyer that she hasn’t had a chance to post yet.
That’s what people do, Luna thinks, feeling a small, unexpected surge of warmth. When there’s no possible way to fix big things they try to fix the small ones.
She picks up the box and, as carefully and quietly as she can, pushes open the door of her room.
With luck, her roommates have found sleep tonight.