Chapter 1
He was supposed to be gathering information about Draco Malfoy—watching his every move, uncovering his secrets—but , something else caught his attention.
Harry’s eyes landed on Luna Lovegood, who seemed entirely unaware of her surroundings. She wandered aimlessly down the corridor, humming a tune under her breath that sounded like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. Her blonde hair was tied back loosely with what looked like a piece of string, strands escaping here and there to frame her face. She wore radish earrings that dangled comically from her ears, and her feet—bare, no socks—made soft padding noises against the cold floor.
Harry froze behind a suit of armor, watching her intently. He hadn’t meant to notice her; it just happened. There was something oddly fascinating about Luna. She carried herself with an ease that defied logic, as if she didn’t care whether anyone noticed her or not. And maybe they didn’t. Maybe that was why she always seemed so… free.
“Why is she wearing shoes two sizes too big?” Harry thought absently, noticing how her oversized loafers flapped slightly with each step. Then he saw it—the hem of her shirt hung low, almost brushing her knees, clearly borrowed or stolen. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard whispers about Ravenclaw students hiding Luna’s things. She never complained, though. Instead, she simply picked up whatever scraps she could find and carried on like nothing bothered her.
What was wrong with him? He was supposed to be focused on Malfoy—not trailing after Luna Lovegood like some sort of lost puppy. Yet here he was, completely distracted by the way her bare feet made no sound against the stone floor, or how her radish earrings swung gently with each step.
Malfoy and his companion passed without noticing him , their conversation muffled but urgent. Harry strained to listen, catching snippets about “repairs” and “timing.” This was exactly the kind of information he needed! But try as he might, his focus kept drifting back to Luna.
His thoughts drifted back to Ginny. She and Luna were in the same year, yet he couldn’t recall ever seeing them together outside of DA meetings or brief encounters in the Great Hall. Sure, Ginny had Dean now, but even before that, she hadn’t seemed particularly close to Luna. They weren’t enemies, of course—they just… didn’t seem to click. And it bothered Harry more than he cared to admit.
He frowned slightly. Wasn’t friendship supposed to transcend house lines? Gryffindor and Ravenclaw weren’t exactly sworn rivals like Gryffindor and Slytherin, so why did it feel like there was this invisible barrier between them?
Harry’s mind wandered further, recalling all the times Luna had been there for him without asking for anything in return. There was no fanfare, no ulterior motive—just Luna being Luna. When Sirius died, she was the one who truly understood what it meant to lose someone so suddenly, so painfully. Her own mother’s death when she was nine—it wasn’t something most people knew about her, but she’d shared it with him freely, offering comfort in a way no one else could.
And then there was the Battle at the Ministry. Luna had stood by his side without hesitation, fighting Death Eaters twice her size while wearing those ridiculous Spectrespecs perched on her nose. She didn’t flinch, didn’t run away. Instead, she cracked jokes about Wrackspurts messing with their heads during the chaos, making him laugh even as spells whizzed past his ears.
Harry smiled faintly at the memory. That was Luna—calm, quirky, and utterly fearless. She didn’t care about fame or fortune or any of the things other girls threw themselves at him for. She treated him like… well, like Harry. Not “The Chosen One,” not “Boy Who Lived”—just Harry.
Deciding to head back to Gryffindor Tower instead, Harry started walking, his footsteps muffled beneath the cloak. The castle felt alive tonight.
As he climbed the stairs, his thoughts kept circling back to Luna. She was strange, yes, but in the best possible way. She reminded him of a cool breeze on a hot summer day—refreshing, unexpected, and impossible to ignore. After dealing with Cho’s tears and Romilda Vane’s love potions, Luna was a breath of fresh air. She didn’t expect grand gestures or declarations of affection. She simply existed, radiating kindness and acceptance without trying.
Ron and Hermione were seated near the hearth, deep in conversation about some obscure magical theory that Harry didn’t bother to eavesdrop on.
Instead, he plopped down onto the couch beside them, stretching his legs out lazily. Ron looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Where’ve you been, mate? You missed dessert.”
“Just… thinking,” Harry replied vaguely, leaning back against the cushions.
Hermione gave him a knowing look. “About Malfoy?”
“Not exactly,” Harry said, hesitating. Should he tell them about Luna? Somehow, it felt too personal, like sharing someone else’s secret. Besides, Ron would probably make fun of him for getting distracted by “Loony Lovegood.”
Ron snorted. “If you’re gonna stalk Malfoy, you might as well do it right. Bring snacks next time.”
Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he stared into the flames, letting the warmth seep into his bones. For the first time in ages, his mind felt clear—not weighed down by guilt or anger or the looming threat of Voldemort. All thanks to a certain blonde girl with radish earrings and bare feet.
“Hey, Hermione,” Harry said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Do you think… I mean, have you ever talked to Luna about Ginny?”
Hermione blinked, caught off guard. “Ginny? Why?”
“I dunno,” Harry shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Just wondering if they hang out much. You know, outside of DA stuff.”
Hermione frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. They’re friendly enough, but they’re not really close. Why?”
“No reason,” Harry said quickly, waving a hand dismissively. “Just curious.”
Ron shot him a suspicious glance. “You’re acting weird, mate. What’s going on?”
“Nothing!” Harry insisted, though the grin tugging at his lips betrayed him. “Forget it.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes but didn’t press further. Instead, she returned to her book, muttering something about boys being impossible to understand.