The Wizard of Schnoz

With a sound like the simultaneous wailing of millions of House Elves, the gargantuan funnel of wind and debris swept over the landscape, drawing inexorably closer to Hogwarts. Most of the students and staff were safely sequestered indoors, with the exception of two lone figures standing on the grounds, gazing at the tornado in horrified fascination.

"Quick! In here!" Neville grabbed Luna's hand and they ran towards the Greenhouses, hunching against the raging storm.

"What a strange tornado," Luna commented, hurrying in his wake. The rising wind flung her hair about, giving the impression she was being attacked by a large flock of dirty-blonde pixies. "I didn't think they had tornadoes around here."

Neville ignored her. They didn't have time to ponder the situation. They were about to be sucked up by the violent wind and, most probably, bashed to bits. Besides, running made him short of breath. "Here!" he gasped, halting before the door to Greenhouse three. "Key....where's the key?"

He fumbled in his pockets, stealing panicked glances at the advancing windstorm that was tearing through the Forbidden Forest. It chewed through the thick growth, ripping up the centuries-old trees as if they were broccoli. Neville gulped. If he was any less brave, he was sure he would have wet himself.

A chunk of stone that looked suspiciously like it had recently been attached to a gargoyle crashed to the ground twenty feet away from Luna. Neville jumped, and even Luna looked a bit unnerved.

"Neville, we should probably . . ." she began, looking uneasily from the tornado, which was now making pudding out of Hagrid's prize pumpkins, to the locked Greenhouse door, which was doing nothing at all.

Neville closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Think . . . think . . . where's the key?

"Neville?"

"Wait . . ." He squeezed his eyes harder, trying to pop the key out of his brain and into his pocket. (Hey, it worked with the Mirror of Erised.)

"Alohomora!" The latch clicked and the wind slammed the door open. "Inside!" Luna commanded. She pulled Neville into the Greenhouse, and the two of then heaved on the door to try to close it against the wind. The tornado approached ever closer, throwing about trees, pumpkins, bits of Quidditch bleachers. Suddenly, the wind changed direction and the door snapped shut.

Luna darted forward and secured the latch. She was a mess; there was a scratch across her cheek, her robes were torn, her hair was . . . frightening. Neville imagined he didn't look much better.

Neville felt extremely awkward. The two of them weren't dating, exactly, but it was common knowledge that Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood were More Than Friends. That was about as specific as it got, though. The exact nature of their relationship was a complete mystery, even to themselves.

All right, mate, Neville thought, alone in a dark greenhouse with Luna Lovegood . . . you've dreamed about this. "Thanks for, um, the door," he said, ever the Casanova. "I didn't think of that."

Luna responded with one of her vague smiles. Neville could almost see the "Out to Lunch" sign taped to her forehead.

"Well, I think I'll just sit down over here." He retreated to a short bench by the giggling geraniums. Neville stared morosely out the window. He started as a large shape pressed against the glass, and then was snatched away again by the storm.

"Neville!" gasped Luna, also staring at the glass. "Was that . . .?"

"I think it was," he replied, horrified.

"Poor little Dennis Creevey," she said softly. The giggling geraniums in the nearest flowerbed erupted into hysterical laughter.

"Shut it, weeds." Neville shot a pacifying charm Professor Sprout had shown him at the boisterous blossoms and they subsided to quiet chuckling.

Luna crossed from her place by the window and sat beside him on the bench. Sitting rather closer, Neville noticed, than was necessary. Hmm. Feeling emboldened, Neville slid his hand over to cover hers. Unfortunately, it was rather dark in the greenhouse. Neville misjudged the distance and ended up with his palm on Luna's knee.

Neville froze in panic. Luna raised her eyebrows at him. "Um . . ." he stuttered, "I, um, I mean . . ." Aaah! "Ahh!" He snatched his hand back and looked at the floor. "Sorry!"

Luna laughed. "I don't mind."

Neville looked back at her sharply. "Really?"

She nodded. Neville replaced his hand, because Luna really did have rather nice legs, and after all, he was only human.

"I--" Neville began.

"Shh," Luna placed a finger to his lips. "I know."

Neville had a moment to wonder how Luna knew that he needed to use the loo, and then she was leaning toward him, eyes closed, lips parting.

Neville wasn't one to refuse such an invitation. He leaned forward . . .

And went flying through the air. Literally flying, not metaphorically. He hit the glass on the other side of the Greenhouse and collapsed to the floor, clutching his head. He heard a crash and a cry from nearby.

"Luna?" he called, struggling upright. The floor was shaking, wobbling up and down, tilting like the deck of a ship. What is going on? "Lun--aaaaaah!" Neville toppled over and rolled into the corner where Luna was putting up a valiant fight against gravity. They collided, and fell ungracefully into a ditch of unplanted soil. Using each other for balance, they climbed out and finally thought to look out the windows.

The Greenhouse was . . . flying. They seemed to be inside the tornado, swirling about in a whirlwind with assorted other objects. Strange, menacing theme music was playing from somewhere. It was a pretty catchy tune, actually. Neville would find himself humming it later. But we're not there yet.

Luna pointed behind Neville and he turned to see a familiar shape soaring through the air outside. It was Mrs. Norris, yowling and twisting frantically against the fierce wind. Luna looked concerned, but Neville felt vindictive satisfaction. After the thousands of detentions the detestable feline had caused, he figured she probably deserved to be thrown about in a tornado a bit.

Neville jumped at the sound of high-pitched cackling. A truly hideous witch in a shapeless black dress was rowing by the greenhouse in what appeared to be an airborne canoe. The unfortunate looking woman steered closer to the glass and sneered at them. From this distance, it was apparent she had a large, hooked nose and greasy black hair, rather like . . .

"Professor Snape!" Luna breathed. "It's Professor Snape. In drag. Aah, my eyes!" She hid her head against Neville's chest.

Normally this would have thrilled him, but at the moment Neville was too concerned with the fact that his archenemy--the spiteful, bullying, biased, unhygienic, (apparently) cross-dressing Potions Master from You Know Where (and I don't mean the Chamber of Secrets)--had suddenly appeared in a flying canoe. He hadn't know Snape could even steer a canoe. The Potions-Master-Gone-Potions-Mistress leered at Neville and then rowed away expertly, still cackling, blatantly flaunting his (her?) newly revealed canoeing prowess.

Neville decided that the situation was entirely too confusing for his pronouns and determinedly banished all thoughts of Potions and boating from his mind.

There was a thump, a crash, a squish, and Neville and Luna toppled back into the dirt.

"We've stopped," Luna announced, extricating herself from the plot of soil.

"Yeah, we--oof!" Neville attempted to exit the flower bed as well, but tripped. He found himself, not for the first time that afternoon, becoming better aquatinted with the greenhouse floor. He leapt up and brushed himself off, hoping that Luna hadn't noticed.

"Are you all right?"

She had, of course, noticed. "Fine," Neville mumbled. "Have we stopped?" he asked, hoping to distract her.

Luna looked around at the greenhouse walls, which had suddenly become opaque for the sake of an impending plot twist. "I think so." She crossed the Greenhouse and opened the door to the Hogwarts grounds. The door that had previously led to the Hogwarts grounds. Because they were, beyond a shadow of a doubt, not the Hogwarts grounds any longer.

Neville and Luna looked out over the sparkling, pastel landscape in wonderment. They were in a world of bold, vibrant hues, where the landscape was so flawless it almost looked like a 1950's children's movie set. The air was just the right temperature for perfect comfort, not too hot, and not too cold. The sky was utterly clear, except for a few strategically placed cotton fluffball clouds. The leaves were so green they practically glowed; the impeccably trimmed grass was peppered with clumps of neatly groomed flowers.

"Ooh, Technicolor," Neville observed. The air had a sweet scent to it. Neville breathed deeply and grinned. It was a birthday cake scented world.

"I don't think we're in Herbology anymore, Toto," Luna commented.

"Who's Toto?" Neville asked.

Luna's brows drew together. "I don't know, Neville," she replied gravely. "I just don't know."