capeandcowllogs | luna's flying is so bad it turns back time.

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luna's flying is so bad it turns back time.

WHO:

superbology. Also, Potters! And maybe Sirius?
WHERE: Potterbase and the skies!
WHEN: Afternoon? Wednesday, August 10.
WARNINGS: spoilers: she is going to get them killed
SUMMARY: Luna and Neville fly to Potterbase! ...If they don't crash first.
FORMAT: Paragraph to start, followed by whatever.

Luna had rushed out as soon as possible after her conversation with Neville. It took a few minutes to find her broom amongst the small disaster area that was her M.A.C. apartment, but soon enough, she was rushing out the door carrying it aloft.

After a few false starts (and near crashes) she took flight, veering wildly through the skies, off to the Porter Room. Spectrespecs on her head, ready for action, just in case Neville happened to be hidden.

It wasn't likely but it never hurt to be prepared.

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"The -- right, someone mentioned the Muggle Aurors," Neville said with a careful nod, deciding he'd default to the term he was familiar with until he saw the word written. He blinked, free hand clutching the broom tighter.

"At least they've got a reason for wanting us," he said finally and begrudgingly. "We've handled riots and kidnappings enough before. Though that only makes it sound like we'll be stuck here until everything's fixed."

That was a wise decision, to clutch the broom, as she had begun to speed up again. "I don't think that's strictly true," she said thoughtfully. "After all, I popped in and out here. It was a very odd experience -- I didn't remember anything about this place when I went home."

"Home?" Somehow, that felt like the strangest thing he'd heard yet. He thrust his wand arm further forward. "We can do that? But how do you not--"

He sighed, and decided to just stop asking questions. No matter what he asked it resulted in about four more things to wonder about.

"Does this look like the right direction to you?"

"It's very mysterious. Hermione says she doesn't even remember anything from the last time she was here--"

Luna came to a stop. Hovering over what looked like the general area around Potterbase. Hopefully.

"I... think so?"

"Keep going a bit, maybe it will look right the further go," Neville said carefully, eyebrows furrowed. He gripped the broom with his other hand now as well, figuring they knew well enough where North was now.

"That is mysterious. She had different memories altogether?"

She nodded and kept going North. Or what she hoped was almost a hundred percent was North, anyway. Maybe twenty-five percent West.

"No. Not false memories. That's something the Ministry would do. Although I still have my suspicions--" She shook her head. This wasn't the time to get into theories. "Anyway, she says she just forgot everything from the last time she was here. I hear it happens sometimes. People leave and they come back, but they can't remember. Or they come back and they're quite the same them as they were before."

Frown. "Does that make sense?" It even sounded a bit odd to her ears.

"Not at all," Neville said, shaking his head and clutching the broom tighter. "That's all right, though. I don't reckon much around here's going to make more sense any time soon. Got to get used to it now."

He glanced around, shaking his head occasionally to get his hair out of his face. "Maybe I should get ahold of one of them."

"That's a very pragmatic way of looking at the situation." Luna said approvingly, oblivious to the fact that he kept acting like they were going to be thrown off the broom at any moment. Which, honestly, was also quite pragmatic. "I don't know if it will ever make sense, but you do get used to it in time."

She nodded. "I'm sure they'd be willing to help us find our way. Although I'm... mostly certain this is the right direction."

"That's about as much as I can hope for." Neville bit his inner cheek and shrugged one shoulder, hoping that in spite of the evidence things did end up making more sense at some point. Surely they could.

"It looks nicer than where we're coming from," he said, fumbling uneasily for his communicator anyway. "I hope they live around here."

"I hope so too," she said, too busy gazing down to notice him fumbling with his communicator. "You may want to hold on tight-- I'm going to swoop down for a closer look."

She bit her lip. "And I haven't exactly tried this before."

"Oh-- kay." And, not sure he'd have time to put his communicator away, he put it in his mouth (and prayed he wouldn't somehow swallow it) and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Jsst b' chhful," he tried to say. "Nht too f'st, ahight?"

If she had been thinking more clearly, she would have pointed out that tossing his communicator in his mouth was far riskier than a ride on a broomstick, but

having his hands there was really quite strangely distracting and besides she needed to focus maneuvering the broomstick and--

She took a deep breath, slowly going higher and higher. Then she turned back to him and smiled reassuringly, calling out. "Don't worry, I'll go as slow as I can!"

Before plummeting back down at a rate that would make some of the speediest Seekers drop their jaws in admiration. Had she intended it, anyway.

The feeling was quite literally the sensation Neville would have expected from your heart falling abruptly from its place into your stomach, and he remembered the reason he didn't much care for flying.

He held onto her tighter, letting go with one hand only one to keep his communicator from dropping, palming it before putting his arm back in place. He laughed a little helplessly.

"You're taking it slow, all right."

It was fascinating, Luna contemplated, how such speeds could alter your hearing. A little inconvenient perhaps but intriguing all the same.

She still had a finger in her one ear, trying to pry the Muffling Mosquito from it, attempting to pop it. If only she had a nice Fudge Fly to chew on, that would do the trick... she'd even take a Canary Cream at this point. "What was that you said? Fly faster?"

Well. If he asked--

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luna's flying is so bad it turns back time.

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