Luna is tripping and sliding through the forest. Not much underbrush impedes her, but plenty of fallen trees covered in slimy mushrooms and thick green moss make her path treacherous. She doesn't know where they are going; her hands feel this is the best way. Her hands are as lost as the rest of her, yet they have an opinion, and why should she resist? Where else is there to go? Percy Weasley has said nothing since they fell asleep by the fire, and neither has she. Once she started walking, he followed.
Down the slope to the valley.
She climbs over a large log. "You came to dismantle my telescope, did you? How very odd!" she says to no one in particular.
The retort is immediate. "I am only enforcing the Law." She can hear something snag and tear his robes and muted swearing.
Luna quietly extricates herself from a grabby bush before continuing onward.
"There can be no muggle technology! Even my father had to give up his." Percy says stubbornly.
"My, you've even dismantled your father's Muggle artefacts? How ghastly that must feel. Why, one wonders, would you want to destroy such harmless things that bring joy to one of your loved ones? Please, do share."
"It was not ghastly!" Percy's voice cracks, his face reddening. "It was inevitable. And they were not harmless. He liked to take them apart to figure out how they worked. He was an embarrassment–" Percy trips on something and lets out an impressive string of swears.
Dreamily, Luna says, "It's fascinating how emotions can lead to actions, isn't it?"
Smoke, she thinks. There is smoke in the air.
"He–it was like he wanted to be muggle–but it can't be allowed, you see? The law is very clear on the matter, no muggle contrivances and no muggle ideology to–to muddy the waters–" Percy sounds uncertain, and Luna waits patiently while he picks himself back up.
"Sometimes understanding comes to us just like a Wrackspurt floating away," she says.
Percy's cheeks are blazing red. With embarrassment over his tumble, Luna guesses.
Irritably, he says, "What does that mean?"
"Percy Weasley, you've mentioned that the Law compels you to dismantle the Observatorium. Do you always follow the Law so strictly? Have you ever considered that your motivations aren't quite what you think they are?"
With an expansive sweep of his arm, Percy proclaims, "It's a new Law–"
"Is it, truly? Fascinating. Written for this very occasion, perhaps?" She stares up at the majestic trees. In this darkened world, shapes are spectres, and the ordinary is eerie, and the constant patter of raindrops filters through the thick canopy like a symphony of nature's whispers.
"No. I mean, it's an ancient Law that was forgotten and neglected. Of course, once recollected, it has to be enforced." Percy says defensively.
Luna stops, and her hands trace the outline of something on the hillside straight across. "Quite suddenly, upon the completion of the Observatorium, this old edict emerges?" She mumbles.
She's trying to understand what she is seeing and doesn't hear if Percy answers. Distractedly, she continues, "It's rather like finding a Crumple-Horned Snorkack when you least expect it, isn't it?"
Weak columns of smoke lead her fingers and eyes to the sky.
"Muggle things, ideas are dangerous! The Law is there to protect the Wizarding World from dangerous influences–"
"Good heavens, could those possibly be blueberries?" Percy says quietly.
For the first time all morning, she turns around. The bush he's pointing to is bursting with berries. They do look exactly like blueberries, but she realises she doesn't care if they are. She grabs a handful and shoves them into her mouth, branches and all.
They eat in silence until they have stripped the bush.
"Did they taste like blueberries to you?" He asks. She shrugs. She truly doesn't know, swallowed too fast to taste.
Instead, she says, "So you dismantled your father's collection recently, then? The task to demolish inspired you? How extraordinary it must feel to be so studious."
"As soon as I learned about the Ministry's new priorities, yes." He straightens up and stands proudly, soaked to the bones, with leaves in his hair and blueberry juice tinting his lips.
Luna frowns. "Percy Weasley, what do you do when you're not enforcing the law?"
"I don't understand what you mean. A ministry official is always obliged to enforce the Law."
Exasperated, Luna turns her back on him. "My hands say there is a village over there. See, there's a church steeple and smoke from hearths." Looking at her dirty fingernails, she turns her hands here and there. The skin is barely visible for the mud. "I do not trust them."
She muses, "My hands have never lied to me before."
She pauses.
"Though, they have never spoken to me before either."
He draws a deep breath, like he is about to shout something, but says nothing.
Fallen logs lie strewn about, their once-mighty forms now yielding to the relentless embrace of fungi and lichen. Each step as they continue down the slope is a dance with the unknown, as the muddy ground shifts beneath your feet and hidden crevices threaten to engulf you. The wetness seeps into everything, a relentless chill that clings to your very soul.