Work Text:
Hermione was rambling again. This, in itself, was rather usual for the long summer days all of Harry’s various friends spent at the Burrow. When they weren’t playing some crazy version of quidditch, degnoming the garden, or helping Molly with something or other, they were lazily lying in a semi circle listening to Hermione propose her scheme of the week.
Usually, Luna was content to sit there and braid daisies round and round Harry’s crown until his hair was as white as hers was. However, today was meant to be the start of the solasane breeding season, and she was more than a little put out that Hermione had derailed the group. Luna had seen it before, but she had wanted to show the spectacle her new friends. She had already decided to bring them to the end of the season instead if Hermione continued to speak, but she deserved at least a little retribution.
When the older girl paused for breath in her plans to use the owl post to take over the ministry, Luna spoke up.
“Hermione, you can’t do that. Birds aren’t real, you know.”
Harry started to shake with suppressed laughter as Hermiones jaw hit the floor. “Don’t be ridiculous, Luna. Of course they are. What else could the owls be?”
“Why, pixies with a feathered-fiend curse, of course. Every time you commit a misdeed, you grow a feather. The poor dears can’t grow their own food anymore, so they entered into the service of wizards.” Luna had long perfected the factual tone that drove Hermione mental, and Ginny (bless her heart) joined in. “Yeah, Hermione. Was that not mentioned in Hogwarts a History?”
Hermione narrowed her eyes. She had the marvellous ability to tell that she was probably being teased, yet respond anyway. “I most certainly was not, because it’s not real! What’s your explanation for all the different kinds of owls, then, Luna?”
“Aren’t there different kinds of pixies? I know you didn’t want to come with me to their dances, Hermione, but you should have at least known that.”
Hermione made a very undignified squawking noise. Luna looked at her with intense concern. “Did you get hit with a feathered fiend curse, too?”
At that, Hermione stormed off. Neville and Ron followed her with an apologetic look. Luna smiled to Harry and Ginny, who both began laughing almost immediately after Hermione rounded the hill. “The solasane, then?”
~
The next morning, Luna was trying to crack her egg with a modified cutting curse one of the Hogwarts house elves had shown her. Hermione say across from her, and with the utmost triumph in her voice, asked, “where do eggs come from, Luna?”
Lunas shell had hopped off the egg and into her plate before she decided to respond. “Snakes, a lot of them. This one was a present from the miniature dinosaurs Mrs Weasley keeps in the back garden.”
Molly looked up from the toast she was buttering. “Do you mean chickens, dear?”
“Oh no, Mrs Weasley. You see, birds are a lie perpetuated by the Ministry.”
Molly looked up, then, to see a serene Luna slicing her egg and an aggravated Hermione shaking her head. “Ah yes, quite right. I had almost forgotten.”
Nothing more developed in the anti-birds camp for several days. Almost a week later, Hermione slammed a heavy book down on the dinner table. Neville, the poor dear, jumped so high he nearly banged off the rafters. Luna patter his shoulder consolingly before looking at Hermione with her usual blank look. “Read this, Luna. Page one hundred and twelve of the Oxford English Dictionary, subsection four.”
Luna, obligingly, recited the appropriate subsection in her best Hermione voice. “Bird, noun, a warm-blooded egg-laying vertebrate animal distinguished by the possession of feathers, wings, a beak, and typically by being able to fly. Informal, a person of a specified kind or character, example, she’s a sharp old bird.”
Hermione was clearly waiting for her reaction. Luna supplied one. “Oh, Hermione, tell me you know that dictionaries are all being controlled by the secret shadow government of dentists and secretaries?”
“My parents are dentists,” Hermione huffed, picking back up the dictionary with significantly more care that she had dropped it and preparing to storm away. Luna gave one more airy comment that drifted after her down the corridor. “Is that why you still believe in such obvious propaganda?”
~
The last day before Hogwarts began again, Hermione sat down beside Luna. She had been avoiding the blonde since the dictionary incident, and it made Luna slightly worried, but a roll of parchment quickly made her realise exactly what was keeping her so busy.
“Answer me this, please, Luna. Where do quills come from?”
“The brownies make them on looms.”
“Stray feathers on the ground?”
“A gift, from the fair folk. It’s not for you.”
“What’s your explanation for songbirds?”
“An invitation from the fair folk. It’s probably for you.”
“All the nests?”
“That’s where baby nymphs live!”
“What are swans, Luna.”
“Guardians of old royalty, hiding in plain sight.”
“Who are birdwatchers?”
“Spies for the rotfang conspiracy.”
”And emus?”
“Oh, they’re just dinosaurs living under a fake name.”
At this point, Hermione had her head in her hands. Luna patted her hair consolingly. “It’s okay, Hermione. Do you want to come visit the solasane with me?”
Hermione nodded dejectedly. She laced her fingers through Lunas and started to follow her down the path into the forest. “We have to be very quiet, Hermione. Otherwise, the hawks will know where they all live.” Hermione didn’t even question what Luna thought hawks were. A pity; she had an excellent line ready about them being the feral housecats of the sky. She decided to take mercy on the other girl. “Birds of prey are very vicious round here.”
It was a good thing the rest of their friends were already waiting in the solasane nest. Hermiones scream of anguish could be heard by every bird in a ten mile radius.