Disclaimer: JK Rowling's ownership of Harry Potter is an invariant under braid theory.

Chapter 48

At breakfast on Monday, things were almost back to as close to normal as they ever got at Hogwarts, although Harry was still pretty down about Quidditch. Hermione, however, was in a good mood. Her presentation for Arithmancy class, after some considerable work, was all set to go. Except that she thought it would be even better with a live subject. But that was easily remedied; she found the person she was looking for at the Ravenclaw Table and asked, "Luna, what time does your first class end today?"

At nine-fifty-five, after her single class had ended, Luna Lovegood walked in on the middle of Hermione's double Arithmancy period. Hermione immediately rose from her seat and walked to the front of the class. "Thank you for coming, Luna," she said. Several of the Ravenclaws rolled their eyes. "I'm ready, now, Professor."

"Alright, Miss Granger, go ahead," Professor Vector said with an amused tone.

"Everyone, this is Luna Lovegood. I asked her to come because she probably has the longest hair in the castle. Turn around, please, Luna." She did, showing them her long cascade of hair. "My presentation today is a Hair-Plaiting Charm, and I wanted to prove that it works on hair of any length." She gathered Luna's hair together into three strands at the back of her head and then raised her wand, preparing herself mentally. She had managed to keep the incantation the same, but the new wand movement the spell required was long and extremely precise, so precise that she could barely cast it. She moved her wand in a slow, careful motion and said, "Fasciculi Pilis Plectere."

Hermione watched as Luna's hair braided itself, over left, over right, over left, over right, again and again, down, down, down, all the way down her back until it reached the very end, and she tied it off with a hair tie.

"Excellent, Miss Granger," Professor Vector said. The class applauded politely. "A very good use of weaving elements, and I suspect you could get a bonus point or two from Professor Flitwick for that wand work."

Hermione smiled. These past few weeks, she felt like all of her sometimes-lonely studies of maths in primary school were being vindicated now that they put one of the most powerful forms of magic at her fingertips. And besides that, she felt like she was really accomplishing something. Her previous achievements, even though they had netted her two academic papers and also saved her from a basilisk, had felt trivial in terms of the difficulty involved, but true spellcrafting was something she could really sink her teeth into. She could see the potential already in it already. It was a power that few others ever realised, even in the field, and there was no telling where she might end up with it.

"And thank you for volunteering, Miss Lovegood," Vector added, snapping Hermione out of her thoughts.

"You're welcome ma'am," Luna replied. "I do love Arithmancy. I really prefer Runes, but both are important for advanced spellcrafting, aren't they? Mummy taught me a lot of Spellman's Syllabary when she was alive."

"You know Spellman's Syllabary already?" Vector said in surprise.

"Yes, much of it. Mummy loved runes. Daddy's still using her runic puzzles for the Quibbler. She wrote enough to last until I can write them myself."

"You should have said something, then. Professor Babbling might have been willing to let you test in early."

"Oh, that would have been nice, wouldn't it?"

"You know what, Miss Lovegood?" Vector lowered her voice. "Why don't you talk to Professor Babbling anyway? If you know the material well enough, you might still be able to advance to the fourth year class next year."

"Oh my, that sounds excellent. Then we would have a class together, wouldn't we Hermione?"

"Well, depending on the schedule, we could," she said uneasily. She wasn't sure how much Luna she could take at once, although she didn't much appreciate several of the Ravenclaws sniggering at the pair of them.

Oliver Wood called for a Quidditch practice after classes on Monday, despite the fact that Madam Pomfrey would really rather he not leave the Hospital Wing by then. After some discussion, the Quidditch match had been rescheduled for the eleventh of December. That didn't bode well for Harry, since it didn't give him much time to solve either of his problems. For now, he and Ginny would both be practising as Seeker, but with both of them on school brooms, Gryffindor's chances at the Quidditch Cup were not nearly as good as before, as Hermione had to explain at length to people asking her for the odds.

As such, Ginny was also at the practice, and Ron and Hermione tagged along to give her and Harry moral support. Ginny had Hermione plait her hair into pigtails again to get it out of the way. Hermione had noticed that Harry was very quiet all through History Class, but he didn't sleep at all, which was a rarity, and when the practice came he looked very determined.

"Okay, Potter, what's up?" Wood asked.

"Well, I've got good news and bad news," Harry reported. "The good news is Professor Lupin says there's a way to fight dementors, and he's gonna try to teach me."

That got most of the team excited, but Wood remained cautious: "And what's the bad news?"

"The bad news is he says I'll have to be really good to be ready for the makeup game against Slytherin…that, and I still don't have a broom," he said unhappily.

"Alright, then," Wood said. "We'll just have to make do. Use school brooms for now, and I'll see if I can scrounge up something better. Potter, I want you to coach Ginny to play Seeker."

"What?" Harry and Ginny said at once and glanced at each other. "Me?" Harry added. "But I don't know anything about coaching."

"But you're a brilliant player, present circumstances excepted, and that'll count for something. If you aren't play I at least want you training the one who is. Just drill her on all the moves and formations you normally do."

Harry still looked petrified at the responsibility. "But I—I mean I can, but—"

"Don't worry, there, Harrikins," Fred jumped in.

"Yeah, we'll be there to help you," said George.

"Just remember, Ginny," Fred added, "keep your eye on the Snitch, not the coach."

Ginny and Harry both turned bright red.

"Okay, everybody, let's revise our formations, just like last week," Wood said. "We would've had this match in the bag if it weren't for the interference, so we just need to keep on top of things. Let's go."

The team mounted their brooms. Harry looked very unhappy with his school broom, but there wasn't much else he could do. He took to the air, but Ginny stood there on the ground, holding her broom in one hand and trembling slightly. Suddenly, she grabbed Hermione by her cloak and said, "You gotta help me, Hermione!"

"Ginny…" Hermione pried her fingers off her robe. "I'm no good to you up in the air. You have to do this yourself. Your brothers can help you, but you just have to focus."

"But it's Harry—teaching me!"

"Yes, but it's also Quidditch. You're good at Quidditch. I've seen you. Concentrate on that, and you'll be able to get through it. Don't worry about impressing Harry. Just worry about playing your best."

Ginny took a deep breath, then another. "Okay," she said. "Okay, I can do this." She took another deep breath and mounted her broom.

"Okay…er—" Harry stammered as she faced him in the air. Ginny was too petrified to speak. "I know you already know the basics of flying, so I guess you can start off with these." He pulled several golf balls from the pocket of his robes. "Uh, I'll just throw a couple of them, and you try to catch them, okay?"

Ginny nodded wordlessly.

"Okay, here it goes."

He threw one of the golf balls hard off to the side in a high arc. Ginny hesitated for a moment, then jerked and veered her broom off in that direction. She flailed madly for the ball, but she didn't get anywhere close, and she slipped and had to clutch her broom handle for balance.

Harry grimaced and sincerely hoped that was just a fluke. Ginny looked back at him, flushed even redder than before, and cast her eyes down to the grass.

"Okay…" Harry said. "Let's try that again. Keep your eye on the ball and follow it right away. Got it?"

Ginny met his eyes with difficulty and nodded. Harry threw the second golf ball in a different direction. This time, Ginny went after it right away and came close, but she choked at the last second and missed it by inches. She looked really uncomfortable, but Harry tried to encourage her.

"Better. Better," he said. "Try it again. Stay focused." This time, he took a chance. Giving her a moment to get ready, he threw the ball hard nearly over her head. He was pretty sure it was within her capabilities, but only if she was really on her game. It paid off. Seeing the challenge for what it was, Ginny went after it two-fisted. She performed a quick, if sloppy back flip and dived after the ball, swooping in and scooping it up only a few feet from the grass. Harry could have done it more gracefully, even on the school broom, but it was definitely above Malfoy's league.

"Yes!" Harry yelled. "That's what I'm talking about. Keep doing that, and you'll be golden."

"Really?" Ginny squeaked, nearly dropping the ball.

"Definitely. Let's try a few more of those. If you can get three in a row, we'll move on to the formations. Go on, toss it back."

Ginny threw the golf ball, and it sailed straight at Harry. He snatched it out of the air easily, without even having to move his broom. "Wow, good arm. You should train for Chaser, too, if you get a chance. Now think fast!" He threw the ball again and proved just how easily Ginny could be distracted by a compliment from her hero.

It took Ginny a while to make three catches in a row, but with Harry's encouragement, she steadily improved. Watching from down in the stands, Hermione marvelled at how much Harry always felt most comfortable in his own skin when he was flying high on a broom, and at how much he was able to help Ginny with no teaching experience. At the same time, she was amazed at how Ginny was most comfortable around Harry when she was on a broom, and at how she was finally opening up around him. That was one thing Hermione couldn't do. She could fly if she had to, but she had never really enjoyed the flying lessons back in first year. For his part, Ron simply looked astonished that his "baby sister" could fly so well.

"Good job. You're getting the hang of this," Harry said once Ginny finally got three in a row. "Just remember a real Snitch buzzes around like an insect. It won't fly in a nice arc, so it'll be harder to follow. But let's get back to the team so we can cover some formations next."

They flew with the team for most of the rest of the practice, and then Harry let Ginny have a go at the real Snitch. Given the time constraints, Harry had to spot it and point out where it was to her, but she gave chase, and after a rather difficult pursuit, she caught it. It wasn't a great performance, but it was good for her first try.

"You were great up there, Ginny," Hermione said once they'd landed and started back for the castle.

"Yeah," Ron added. "I saw it, but I don't believe it."

"Thanks," she said, only blushing a little this time. "I had a great teacher though—and I still wouldn't stand a chance against him."

"That's okay, Ginny," Harry said. "You only have to beat Malfoy, and I'm sure you can do that."

"Eep! Really, Harry?"

"Definitely."

Ginny grinned.

Hermione had a serious question, though, something that had been bothering her all afternoon. "Harry, was that all Professor Lupin talked to you about—about the anti-dementor lessons?" she said. "You seemed…preoccupied about it."

Harry turned serious as well and motioned for them to huddle closer and lowered his voice: "No, he explained some things, too—like why I react worse to the dementors than everybody else."

"He did?" Ron said in surprise. "I just thought they were going after you for some reason."

"No, it's not that. He said dementors make you relive your worst memories, and I always faint because I have worse memories than most people."

"How d'you figure?" Ron asked. "We've been through all the same stuff together, and they don't do that to us."

"I don't mean at Hogwarts," Harry said. "I figured out what the screaming I heard was. When the dementors get close to me, I can…" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum," he whispered.

All three of his friends gasped in horror. Ginny gripped his arm tightly. Ron looked down at his feet awkwardly. Hermione laid a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder, though she was still confused.

"But…how is that possible?" she said.

"Huh?" Harry said.

"You were only fifteen months old. The limbic system isn't fully developed to retain long-term memories until you're at least two. It should be neurologically impossible for you to remember…" She realised the other three were staring at her. "Unless it's different for magicals?"

"I dunno, but I can hear it," Harry said. "And the worst part is it's the only way I can remember her."

"Oh, dear," Hermione said. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay," he said. "That's why I need the lessons, though. When I hear her screaming, I faint."

No one had anything to say to that, but Ginny released her vice grip and awkwardly patted him on the arm. They continued on in silence until they ran into another, more unwelcome foursome: Draco Malfoy came into view with Pansy Parkinson on his arm and flanked by his two bodyguards. Upon seeing both Harry and Ginny in their Quidditch robes, Malfoy smirked and said, "Do my eyes deceive me? The Weaslette's training for Seeker. It looks like you're being replaced, Potter. Dementors scared you off the team, did they?"

A few hours ago, Harry Potter would have lashed out in shame and frustration at that insult, but after the practice he'd just had, he was having a pretty good day, all things considered. He stood his ground, thinking faster than his friends had ever seen him think, and said, "No, Malfoy. We just thought we could use a reserve, and we thought you'd be good for her to cut her teeth on."

"Ha!" Malfoy didn't miss a beat. "This little waif? As if. I know she's a pureblood, Potter, but come on."

Both Weasleys fumed at that, but Ron was also feeling clever today. "Hey, Hermione, what're the odds?" he growled.

"Well, assuming Ginny keeps practising like she did today, and comparing it with your past performance, Malfoy," Hermione answered calmly, "considering you missed the Snitch from practically under your nose last year, and you flew off the pitch at the first sign of trouble on Saturday when you could've won it…I'd give it to Ginny at somewhere between five to two and three to one on."

"Oh, shut up, chipmunk. Nobody cares about your numbers," Parkinson snapped.

Hermione froze up as Malfoy sniggered at her expense. She hadn't been called "chipmunk" for a very long time—not since her front teeth first came in, and "Nobody cares about your numbers" was practically word for word the taunt she kept hearing back in Year 3 of primary school. But it still stung. And yet…she knew now what numbers could do. Perhaps it was time to use that spell she'd been saving. She would have been horrified to think it two years ago, but now, well…Just give me a reason, Malfoy, she thought.

Harry hadn't noticed Hermione's reaction yet. He was too busy needling Malfoy. "Ginny's going to beat you, Malfoy," he boasted. "She can't lose with me training her."

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy sneered. "Her and what broom? She'll be lucky to stay on that cheap piece of junk she has to fly on. Of course, that'd still be an improvement over you, wouldn't it Scarhead."

Ginny drew her wand. Malfoy instantly reacted by drawing his own, and in a flash, six others were drawn, too. "You wanna rethink that, Malfoy?" Ginny snarled.

Malfoy quickly sized up the standoff and made a fatal miscalculation. He started to wave his wand at Ginny. "Everte Statum!"

"Chiroptera Mucosa!"

"ARGH!" Malfoy yelled as the Bat-Bogey Hex hit him.

Everyone stopped and stared in shock. For it was not Ginny, who had been knocked flat on her back, but Hermione who stood there, glaring, with her wand pointed at Malfoy's face as a black bat crawled from his nose and beat him about the with its wings.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry yelled, aiming at Parkinson before she could get a spell off, thinking her the next most dangerous caster.

Crabbe and Goyle, not being too bright, both cast hexes at Hermione for nailing Malfoy, but Ron shoved her out of the way, and they left themselves completely open to him and Ginny as she leapt to her feet.

"Tarantallegra!"

"Mordeodigiti!"

The fight was over quickly, with the Slytherins solidly bested. "You'll pay for this, Granger!" Malfoy yelled, but with none of them fit to cast straight at the moment, they limped away.

"Pfft. Boy really can't take a hint," Ginny said. Then, she whirled on Hermione angrily, poking her in the chest. "Hermione Granger! Did you go behind my back and convince Bill to teach you that spell?"

"No," Hermione said, pushing Ginny's hand down. "I just watched you cast it enough times that I was able to arithmantically reverse-engineer it."

"You…you used arithmancy?"

"You figured out her spell just by watching it?" Ron said in awe.

"Yes. Mind you, it wasn't easy. It took quite a bit of sixth-year maths, but I did it."

"That's bloody brilliant!" Ron said. Hermione smiled coyly.

Ginny gaped for another moment, then said, "That's it. I'm taking Arithmancy next year."

Ron groaned: "Aw, great, Hermione, you just made my sister even more dangerous."

"You're just jealous because you're stuck with Runes," Ginny said.

"Hey, I actually like Runes," he shot back.

"Ron actually likes a class? Mark it on the calendar."

"You just watch it, Ginny. I've still got the Slug-Belching Curse Charlie taught me."

Ginny just laughed.

But it wasn't all fun and games because on the way to dinner, they ran into a very unhappy-looking Professor McGonagall. They all looked at each other uncomfortably.

"Miss Granger, did you really hex Mr. Malfoy this afternoon?" she said.

Hermione turned very pale. What would her parents say if she got detention, especially for fighting? "I…I…"

"No, ma'am," Ginny jumped in. "I did it."

"What?" Hermione gasped. "Ginny, no—ouch!" Ginny jabbed an elbow in her ribs.

"Really, Miss Weasley? Because Mr. Malfoy says different," McGonagall said suspiciously.

"Then I must have scrambled his brain, too. It's my spell. I've never taught it to anyone else. Hermione asked me three times last year, and I turned her down." That much was actually true.

"Malfoy cast first anyway, Professor," Harry added.

McGonagall's eyes narrowed, and her lips compressed into a thin line as she looked the four of them over suspiciously. "Is that what happened?" she asked. Hermione said nothing, mostly because Ginny was standing on her foot. The boys seemed to have the same idea. "I also understand that Miss Weasley was the first to draw her wand?" Ginny reluctantly nodded. "Very well, Miss Weasley. Detention tomorrow and ten points from Gryffindor." Ginny hung her head in an exaggerated manner. "Five points from the rest of you for fighting in general. Mr. Malfoy and his friends have received a similar punishment." That didn't sound too bad, they thought. "Oh, and Miss Granger…" McGonagall added. Hermione paled again. "I'm sure Professor Vector would find your skill at analysing spells most impressive, but I shouldn't need to remind you that hexing fellow students is not acceptable."

"Professor, I—" she started, but Ginny stopped her.

"She understands, Professor," Ginny said.

"I see," McGonagall said. "That will be all for now."

"Bloody hell, she's so smart, it's scary," Ron said once they were out of earshot.

"Ginny, why did you do that?" Hermione demanded. "You shouldn't have taken the fall for me."

"It's fine," the younger girl replied. "I would've got in trouble anyway, and I had to pay you back somehow for everything you've done for me."

"But you didn't have to—"

"Well, too bad. Besides, I've got in trouble for that spell before. You have your goody two-shoes reputation to uphold."

Hermione snorted: "Ha! If they knew what I really got up to last year…but thanks, Ginny. You're a good friend."

Despite Ginny shouldering most of the blame, the word soon began to spread around the school that Hermione Granger was not as helpless as she used to be. The change was subtle, but surprising. The Slytherins glared at her more, of course, but none of them tried anything. However, a number of first years, who had had unpleasant run-ins with Slytherins, just as she'd had back then, seemed to look up to her more. And, of course, Fred and George, who had felt the sting of that hex several times, bowed to her with exaggerated deference when they found out. ("Told ya you don't wanna make Hermione mad," said Fred.)

Her new reputation wasn't exactly the one she wanted to be known by, but it did come in handy at one point a few days later. The students were mingling after lunch, and Hermione happened to spot Luna. Actually, she was hard to miss with all that hair and her…eccentric taste in accessories. Hermione was working her way over to say hello and check up on the girl when the Ravenclaw was accosted by three of her house-mates.

"Hey, Loony," one of the girls said, a taller, curly-haired girl Hermione was pretty sure was a fourth-year. "Rebecca says you're getting into arithmancy and runes, now. Hoping to follow in Mummy's footsteps, are you?"

Hermione frowned, wondering what that was about. All she knew about Luna's mother was that she had passed on her love of runes and that she was no longer alive. She pushed her way closer.

The fourth-year Ravenclaw girl and two others she thought were in Luna's year laughed and jeered. They bumped and elbowed Luna as they passed, and one of them "accidentally" snagged her long hair. She'd suffered worse herself, but Hermione was angry at the sight.

When Luna replied to the other girl, she sounded less dreamy than usual—more of an edge to her voice and a slight quaver, and Hermione caught something—a barely perceptible pinched look around her eyes. Hermione doubted the hecklers even noticed, but she recognised it from when she found Luna on Halloween, and even more so from her own face in the mirror when she had had to endure this sort of bullying—those times when she told herself it didn't bother her, and she almost believed it.

"I've always admired my mother's work," Luna said, "but I've always felt a more rigorous approach would be better in my own studies."

"Oh, so she at least taught you that much," one of the younger girls said. "I guess she wasn't a total loss, then." The laughed again, and at that moment, Hermione caught up with them.

"Ahem," she coughed. "Hello, Luna, is there a problem here?"

The other three girls stopped and stared at her, but Luna smiled and said, "I'm quite alright, Hermione, thank you."

"That's good. I'd hate to see you having any trouble," Hermione replied.

"What d'you care about Loony, Granger?" the other second-year girl said. "She's completely nutters." The fourth-year glared at her to be quiet. Evidently, she was more up on the gossip about Hermione.

"Luna happens to be my friend, and I don't appreciate her being called names," Hermione said sharply. "Surely, Roger Davies mentioned that to you when he told people to stop hiding her clothes."

"He might've said it in passing," the fourth-year girl said, flinching a little at Hermione invoking a prefect. "I was just escorting these two to the library." She laid a hand on each of their shoulders. "I'll see you around, Loon—er, Lovegood, Granger."

Hermione stared at Luna for a moment, then cautiously said, "What was all that about?"

"Well, they don't really think too highly of my parents," Luna said. "I suspect it's because Daddy runs the Quibbler—that's a magazine. I can give you a copy, if you like."

"Er…okay?" Hermione said, worrying what she was getting herself into.

"It sells well enough for us, but every publication has its detractors."

If Luna's father was anything like she was, Hermione could guess why. "Right, but your mother…?"

"Mum was a very good spellcrafter," Luna said. "She was an experimentalist, though."

"Direct manipulation of the magical energies," Hermione remembered.

"That's right. It's very useful. You can do things with it that you could never do with arithmancy alone, but it's also more dangerous. Mum was very good at it, though. She worked for many years without any serious mishaps. I loved to watch her work. The shapes and colours of the threads of magic were very pretty. One day, one of her spells got away from her, though. She had dreamed of making a shield charm that would absorb some of the energy of the spells that hit it to reinforce itself."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. She'd never even heard of something like that. "That's…" she started. "I couldn't even begin to guess if that's arithmantically possible. It seems…like, too easy."

"Perhaps. But it is possible if you catch the spells and manually dissect them. Mum wanted it to do it on its own, but everything she produced was unstable. It wouldn't hold the energy. Once, she thought she had done it, but when she touched the shield, it exploded and destroyed most of the house…I was nine."

Hermione's mouth dropped open a little as she filled in the blanks in her mind. "I'm sorry, Luna," she said, putting an arm around her. She was also angry. She couldn't believe anyone would taunt Luna about her mother's death. Things rarely even went that far between Malfoy and Harry.

"Yes, it was rather horrible," Luna said, still sounding disturbingly cheerful and conversational. "The worst was when Dad had to pull me away from her and out the door. The house nearly collapsed, you see. I still miss her very much. But I've still got Dad. And anyway, I know I'll see her again someday."

Hermione mind spun for a moment until she figured out what Luna meant. She stopped short, turned, and stared into her silver eyes. They had a different look to them than before: bright and shining, with no doubt or reservation in them. Luna must be a girl of extraordinary faith, she thought. She had rarely met anyone whose faith was that strong. Or who could withstand bullies like that, for that matter. If anyone said those things to Harry, there would be spellfire, at least. "I…I'm sure you will, Luna…" she said awkwardly, not really knowing how to respond. "So then…Arithmancy and Runes?"

"Yes, I still want to become a spellcrafter, like Mum—although I would also enjoy searching for new magical creatures, like Dad—but I decided I would need a stronger theoretical background. Someday, I hope I can figure out where she went wrong."

"Wow…that's…well, when it comes to it, if there's any way I can help you with that, I will."

"That's very kind of you, Hermione. And it's very kind of you to say you're my friend. I think I rather like having a friend." ("A" friend? Hermione thought. I'll have to have a word with Ginny.) "Most people think I'm very odd, you know. You've been very nice to me, though." She looked down and lowered her voice: "I know you don't agree with me about nargles and snorkacks. Most people don't think they exist."

Hermione bit her lip uncomfortably. "No, I don't," she admitted. It was really frustrating, she thought. She could admire Luna's faith, but then she went on and believed the most implausible things in the here and now without evidence. And yet, there was something oddly endearing about it. It took her a minute to place why, but she realised Luna wasn't her only friend with an odd way of thinking. "But you know what?" she said. "I think being friends with the elves has taught me a lot about tolerance for people who believe differently than I do."

Luna cocked her head. "I suppose they do have a unique perspective on things."

"Unique is an understatement. I'm a muggle-born, remember? I don't believe in slavery at all, even voluntary slavery. But if I can be open-minded about that for their sake, I suppose I can be open-minded about cryptomagizoology, too."

Luna continued staring at her, looking even more surprised than usual. "You're a very unusual witch, Hermione."

Hermione giggled slightly, unable to decide if being called unusual by Luna Lovegood was a good thing or a bad thing. "That's me," she said. "Can't ever do things quite normally. Honestly, Luna, you fit in just fine with my other friends. I mean, I'm on speaking terms with Filch, for heaven's sake. And I still visit Myrtle every so often, and then there's Hagrid and…Why do I suddenly feel like I'm living on the Island of Misfit Toys?"

Luna giggled. "Is that like the lost island of Thule? That's where the heliopaths' summer breeding grounds are. They need the midnight sun, you know."

Hermione suppressed an eye roll. She had momentarily been amazed that almost everything Luna had said in this conversation made sense, but that was a little too much to ask. "No, Luna," she said. "It's a muggle thing. I'll tell you closer to Christmas."