Inspired by the challenge set down by Acolyte of the Blood Moon. What if Harry was the reincarnation of a certain green-eyed SOLDIER? Hopefully fast updates, if people like it.
Chapters will get longer and longer each time! Rejoice Happy People!
Updates will be weekly.
Character Study. I need to reread the book before I can continue.
Never a Memory...
Green Magic
The world sang to her in green hymns of sparkling ribbons.
Luna had known she was different, even as a little girl, when at the age of five the green first spoke to her directly. History had repeated itself, only in this case, she had lost her mother to accident instead of malicious design. Ever since, when the green spoke to her it was in two voices. Her mother's, and the voice of a giggly auburn-haired woman who for some reason made her look out the corners of her eyes for flashes of pink.
It showed her the truth. It showed a strong-willed brunette fighting in the shadows of her best friend, and she mourned for the phantom in her first year when it was beaten down for a time by the teen in the diary. The first time Luna met Malfoy, she was distracted by the angry blond behind him, her eyes tracing over the diagonal scar that ran over the bridge of his nose. As Hermione studied in the library over the years, she loved watching the Nargles dancing around the fiery Soldier in red as he sat by her side.
Yes, the green enveloped her world. She had wondered for a time if the phantoms were daemons, like the ones from a muggle book series she'd read years before. (She had laughed at the description of other worlds, and wondered if the writer was a Seer to have it so close.) But not everyone had one, and those that did rarely seemed to know that they were there. Only in the older crowd did anyone seem to hear their whispers. Her second year, she had loved to watch Professor Lupin when his broad-shouldered shadow spoke to him. He had always seemed quieter at those times, as if reflecting upon the honor of his actions, wondering if perhaps there was a better way to do things.
His shadow always seemed to be chattier around the full moon.
She tried to stay away from Professor Dumbledore. The angry-looking shadow of his always seemed to be plotting, stroking a blond moustache as he stared out at the world with avarice in his eyes. Those beady eyes gleamed at the sight of certain students, and he whispered in Dumbledore's ear at the sight of Harry, his greed gleaming as bright at spun silver.
The same spun silver that flowed from the head of Potter's phantom. Harry was a mystery to Luna. The spirits that danced and spun and sang in the green whispered to her in many voices, most of them women, all of them heroes in their own right. Auburn and pink was the loudest at the sight of Harry, both stories of a strong and honorable man, and whispers of warning, of a flash of pain. Pain that felt like it threatened to split her from spine to breastbone. But for all the warnings, all of the pain, she felt sad for the tall and silent Soldier, who was shrouded in the same darkness the little brunette fighter from First year had been under, shrouded and slow and completely silent. There were times he seemed to come alive, pacing like a jungle cat, hands flexing with the urge to do Something, but it was only Harry who limped away from his adventures, wounded and alone in his head.
Oh yes, Luna knew she was special. Her soul was truly Ancient, and it allowed her a different view of the world. The green sang, the green swirled, the green danced, and she just smiled as she danced with it.