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Luna is thirteen when she first wakes to rusty stains in her underwear, a flower of blood blossoming between her thighs. She knows what it is, of course - her mother might have died young, but although her father might be a little absent-minded (“loony”, whisper her housemates) he’s made sure she’s not grown up without knowing the facts of life. So she knows, abstractly, that she is A Woman Now, and expects vaguely that were she to share the news with the others in her dormitory, she’d likely get some sort of sisterly camaraderie sympathy, and probably some kind of sanitary product. But she’s late for breakfast, and the eggs are never good cold, so she wads a piece of toilet paper in place and gets on with it.
It’s in double Potions, though, that she becomes aware of the dull ache in the pit of her belly, and more than that, an itch under the skin that she’s never felt before. Something feels wrong and out of place and although she can’t quite put her finger on it, her infusion of mandrake turns out all kilter. Professor Snape accuses her of losing track of the mandrake roots she’s added to the cauldron, because it’s entirely too strong for only three (and please, she might be a bit dreamy but she’s learned something from her mother’s untimely and horrible death and that is never forget to pay attention to spells and potions). Even though the store cupboard supplies back her up, he deducts two points from Ravenclaw, and by the time she gets to Professor McGonagall’s Transfiguration lesson, she’s more than a little hacked off.
Transfiguration doesn’t go much better, especially when the ache in her stomach twists into a knife-stab of pain and suddenly the music box she’s supposed to be transfiguring into a songbird bursts into fifteen canaries. Professor McGonagall casts her a sharp look and then, rather gently for her, suggests she just observe for the rest of the lesson. When class ends, she calls Luna back and asks crisply whether she’s “started her courses”; Luna is so surprised (and yes, a bit embarrassed) she just nods, and the professor sighs, pats her on the shoulder, offers her a butter shortbread, and sends her to see Madame Pomfrey.
The nurse, in her usual no-fuss way, sits Luna down and tells her quite briefly that menstruation is a bit more difficult for witch women, “because, dear, it’s a form of blood magic, and blood magic is always a bit tricky.” Blood magic, Luna thinks, a bit taken aback, as Madame Pomfrey bustles around her.
"You might find your magic becoming stronger, or more uncontrollable, during that time of the month. Perhaps a little wilder, for lack of a better word. Blood is a powerful magical force, after all, and menstrual blood, well. A lot of people call it PMMS - pre-menstrual magical stress - it’s different for everyone, but it looks like you might have a particularly strong case. But most women use these, dear, and this potion helps keep things in check."
'These' turn out to be a packet of what Luna thinks at first are thin silk bandages, but which turn out to be Witches' Best Impermeable Refreshable Sanitary Liners, and the PMMS potion tastes of chocolate and sea salt, eases the cramps in her belly, and soothes the itch under her skin, so all in all, she thinks, it's not too bad a situation, really.
It stays with her, though, what Madame Pomfrey said about blood magic. She’s not a Ravenclaw for nothing, and the phrase was so curious that she decides almost immediately to conduct further research. There’s nothing in the library, though, and she doesn’t exactly think it’s something she can ask her teachers about, so she files it away in the back of her mind as something to examine further, and in time it just becomes That Thing She Deals With Monthly Which Is A Bit Of A Pain But Oh Well, Womanhood.
Much later, though, when she’s left Hogwarts and is trying to decide what to do in a post-war world that hasn’t really caught up with all its new options, a chance conversation with Hermione sparks the memory. Hermione is at Luna’s house for tea and a catch-up, and somewhat surreptitiously complaining about cramps, so Luna offers her a dose of potion before succumbing to curiosity and asking about Muggle remedies for this particular ailment. Hermione is very matter-of-fact about these things, which Luna appreciates, and tallies up in her mind as “reasons she enjoys female friendship.”
"Oh," says Hermione. "You know, I think they’re mostly the same. Liners and tampons - cotton plugs you wear inside, I know, it’s a bit strange, but really, imagine how it’d be if you couldn’t charm a pad leakproof? God, how ghastly, I’m glad I didn’t start before I arrived at Hogwarts. Oh, but I did hear about something new. A moon cup, I think it’s called. They’re little rubber cups that collect the blood, and then I suppose you pour it away. A bit strange, but I hear it works fairly well.”
Moon cups, Luna thinks. Moon cups and blood magic. And she remembers the old itch under her skin, and a music box fluttering into a flock of birds, and wonders just how powerful it could be.
She writes to Professor McGonagall, and on her recommendation, is accepted into the Ministry of Magic’s Experimental Transformative Magical Studies department as a special-admission student. Her research thesis isn’t officially about menstrual blood magic, of course - Luna’s realised that the wizarding world is run by men who blanch at the idea of period blood, Merlin’s beard, coming anywhere near their carefully defined and controlled magic. Instead she’s studying the general magical power of ‘esoteric bodily fluids’ - mermaids’ tears, dragon's blood, that sort of thing. But privately, she stops taking the suppressive potion, goes into a Muggle shop to buy a moon cup (and learning the trick of using that is something and a half) and begins to get an idea of just what she’s dealing with.
She gets out her old potions equipment, starts brewing modified potions, and after testing them on herself first, asks Ron and Harry if they’d mind trying them out. She gives them each a flask of Polyjuice potion (somewhat guiltily, because Harry might have said very touchingly “we are friends, Luna” but she’s not entirely sure that stretches to “sure, we’ll drink a potion with menstrual blood in it, as long as it’s yours”, but it’s only a drop and she’s sure it’s been metamorphosed in the brewing process anyway. Fairly sure. Eighty percent sure. It’s only a drop.) A potion that should last an hour lasts ten, and she writes up her results with smug, feminist pride. Witches rule, wizards drool, etc.
When her research is comprehensive and complete enough to satisfy even the most stickler of Ravenclaws, she writes it up in a paper ‘Blood Magic and Rebirth: Uses for Menstrual Blood in Transformative Potions and Transfiguration’ and starts sending it out for publication. Professor Slughorn is endearingly, but frustratingly, awkward about the whole thing, and the rest of wizarding academia are not much better. After five rejections, she’s complaining about the injustice of it all at the monthly Weasley dinner (though quietly, to Hermione and Ginny, in the corner of the kitchen. Ron and Harry still don’t know about the one drop okay thing, and she’s fairly sure they’re not supportive-friends enough to read twelve thousand words of complicated academic discourse, but nevertheless.)
"You might try that new publication that just came out in the States," says Hermione off-handedly. "The Journal of Feminist Magical Studies, I think it’s called. I’ve been considering sending some of my own work over, it’s never going to be published in this regressive society." Hermione smiles, in a slightly sly way that suggests she’s developing her Slytherin side, and takes a sip of the wine she’d brought, because she’s "not going to drink bloody pumpkin juice forever, Ron, let’s at least try to be grown up.” Luna clinks glasses and drinks her wine, and feels the prickle of blood magic under her skin, and thinks she just might try that journal.
They accept her work, and send a request for more. Hermione’s paper is published too (‘Combating Magical Misogyny: A Case for Gender Quotas in Magical Institutions’) and when the boys see their two titles on the contents page, they turn a little pale, and Luna’s not sure whether it’s the blood or the (not even that radical, yet) feminism that’s got them looking so queasy. She’d be sorry, but this isn’t going to stop; Harry Potter might have been the chosen one, but that time is done with, and she and Hermione are fairly sure there’s some male privilege that needs breaking down right there.
They host Feminist Harpy drinks at the Leaky Cauldron to celebrate their published status. An actual harpy turns up, which is a bit awkward at first, but she turns out to be really into smashing the patriarchy too, so that’s just fine. Luna sits back and watches the conversation flourish. Ginny is arguing the pros and cons of all-female Quidditch teams, Padma, Parvati, Katie and Cho are discussing the need for religious and cultural diversity within Hogwarts, and Hermione appears to be explaining to Penelope Clearwater her devious plan to take a case against the Ministry of Magic to the European Court of Human Rights. Luna grins to herself. The wizarding world’s definitely about to face a brave new world, because these witches might be young, but they’re full of power. It’s in their blood.