A Kindred Spirit.
The first week at Hogwarts had been... unsettling. Not because of the school itself—Hogwarts was fascinating, filled with magic that still made Harry pause in wonder—but because of the dreams. The visions.
He hadn’t told anyone. Not that he had anyone to tell.
The Ravenclaws were polite enough, but they mostly kept to themselves. There were a few who had been friendly—Terry Boot had explained a few spells, and Padma Patil had given him a knowing nod when he answered a difficult question in Charms. But beyond that, he still felt separate.
And after last night’s dream, he didn’t particularly feel like talking.
That was why he had slipped out of the common room early, before breakfast, wandering the castle halls aimlessly.
That’s when he saw her.
A girl stood in the middle of an empty corridor, staring at the ceiling as if it held the secrets of the universe. She had long, pale blonde hair and wide, silvery-blue eyes that gave her an otherworldly appearance.
She was humming to herself, tilting her head this way and that. As if listening to something he couldn’t hear.
Harry hesitated.
Then—without warning—she turned to look at him.
“You have something following you,” she said dreamily.
Harry froze. His heartbeat jumped, a sickening lurch in his stomach.
“What?”
The girl tilted her head. “Not a Wrackspurt,” she continued. “Those just make your head go all fuzzy. But something else. Something cold.”
Harry stared.
Most people would have been unsettled saying something like that to a near-stranger. But she just blinked at him, as if stating a simple fact.
For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, someone had noticed.
Someone had seen something wrong.
“…You can tell?” he asked, voice quieter than he intended.
She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Oh, yes. I’ve felt it since I stepped into the hallway.” Then she smiled, bright and unbothered. “But you’re not a dark wizard. You just have something very dark near you.”
Harry let out a breath. “You don’t think I’m dangerous, then?”
She tilted her head again. “No. Should I?”
He didn’t know how to answer that.
She extended a hand. “I’m Luna Lovegood.”
Harry stared at it. Then, for the first time in what felt like forever—he smiled, just a little.
“Harry Potter.”
“I know.” She beamed. “You’re in the papers.”
Harry almost groaned, but her smile didn’t change, as if she actually meant it in a nice way.
Then she let go of his hand and started walking down the hall.
“Where are you going?”
“Oh, just following the nargles.”
Harry had no idea what that meant.
But for the first time in days, he didn’t feel so alone.