The sheer weight of Harry's isolation wasn't quite clear to him until it lifted. It was silly, the thrill he felt when he broke the seal, and the wave of comfort as he began reading. She's just a friend, right? And this is just a friendly note.
But he loved the letter. He loved that she penned a response immediately. He loved that it was playful and lighthearted. More than anything, he loved that he'd been heard. That somebody had cared enough to respond.
Still in his boxers, seated on the edge of his bed, Harry held the note in his hand like treasure, scanning the slanted sentences yet again. Her handwriting was wispy and thin, simple and beautiful. The undecorated utility of his own scratchy print was barbaric in comparison. He must have read Luna's letter two dozen times before folding it carefully, and storing it in a small wooden lockbox Hagrid gifted him for his fourteenth birthday.
Would it be too forward to send an immediate reply? Harry didn't want to chase off the one person who seemed even remotely interested in returning his notes. Not to mention, if she'd been woken by Hedwig at 3 a.m., a tap on her window at 7 may not be welcome.
He took a breath. He paced from one side of the room to the other twice. And then he smirked.
Against his better judgment, Harry rushed to his trunk and grabbed the parchment, quill, and ink he'd tossed aside haphazardly four hours ago.
Hi Luna.
I was thrilled to see your note. It's nice to have another person to talk to, really. I've been spending a lot of time alone lately. That hasn't been easy. I heard that Dumbledore explained what happened after the tournament in the Great Hall, so I assume you're aware of the series of recent events. I feel shaken by all of it.
I realized just now that it's early, and you likely don't want to think about dark things.
I was reflecting on our very first conversation this morning. Thanks for that. It's difficult for anyone, even my closest friends, to have a conversation with me that doesn't involve "You-Know-Who." I didn't ask for all that, and sometimes the weight of those expectations seem unbearable. So when you and I spoke for over an hour about normal, everyday things — well I don't know how to say it except to tell you that it was exactly what I needed.
How did we not become friends sooner?
Harry P.
PS - Thank you for a copy of next week's Quibbler. I'll be reading it all morning.
As he sealed the letter, Harry promised himself he'd find a way to reward Hedwig for a morning's hard work.
Luna Lovegood couldn't stop smiling.
Six hours before she had woken to a light tap on her bedroom window. She knew for days, with some confidence, that this would happen. But she also knew that knowing wouldn't make it happen any sooner, and that there was nothing precisely to prepare for. So she laid down the night prior in her white laced nightgown around 11, and slept like a mooncalf. Around 2 or 3 in the morning, a striking and determined Snowy Owl landed on her sill with a note lightly tied to her left leg.
Her sight hadn't granted any particulars. Just that a note would arrive, and that this note would be important.
After a soft yawn and a quick stretch, Luna skipped across the room, unlatched the window, and invited the owl to her perch for a treat.
"I don't believe we've met. I'm Luna, and you're lovely."
The owl nuzzled Luna fondly in appreciation.
Luna sat cross-legged on her four-poster with the mysterious note on her lap. She turned the folded paper this way and that, smelled it twice, felt its rough edges with closed eyes, and smirked in anticipation.
This sort of feeling was new.
Hope wasn't something that commanded the heart of Luna Lovegood. Her mother's tragic death had taught her hard lessons about the world, and what to expect from it. Her father's subsequent emotional paralysis was even harder to bear. She loved her daddy, but he rarely saw her anymore.
So when she was sorted into Ravenclaw nearly four years ago, she hadn't expected to be warmly received. And when her shoes began disappearing, she wasn't terribly disappointed. She had come to expect that, when people were involved, there would be distance and pain.
Something about this note, though, and something about this early morning felt different.
Luna broke the seal of the first letter she'd ever received, unfolded the parchment, and drank in the words.
Harry Potter. It was a note from Harry Potter.
She giggled for nearly three minutes, then sighed, let her body fall into her pillows, and clutched the simple invitation to her chest.
Harry Potter, my first friend.
The journey back to King's Cross had been uneventful.
Luna sat on her favorite bench in her favorite trolley car. Her last pair of shoes had gone missing that morning. Feet propped atop the next row, she leaned back and wiggled her toes as she reread the latest edition of the Quibbler.
Immersed in an article on the magical aura of ancient standing stones, the content of which twisted in sharp lines to emulate the shape of Stonehenge, Luna hadn't noticed the young man standing in the aisle nearby.
"um... Hi. I'm, uh... I'm Harry."
Luna knew immediately that she'd just been approached by the most famous young wizard in Britain. She also knew she was blushing. So she didn't move a muscle.
Luna didn't know Harry in one sense. They'd never met. But she'd watched him, distantly for a few years. Closely since the tournament began.
He was kind. She hadn't expected that. She'd seen him with Neville, with Hagrid, with Ginny. He seemed to genuinely love people.
The sort of fame that Harry was born with ruined people. But Harry ran from attention, took every opportunity to redirect praise.
And he was a hero. In the face of darkness, he proved himself daring and compassionate and clever and powerful. In a word, he was fascinating.
And he was beautiful.
Any other moment like this, Luna would have operated on the notion that she was about to encounter the business end of a cruel joke.
But Harry just wanted to talk. He wanted to get to know her. He wanted to reflect on their years, their classes, their interests and hopes.
He wanted to be her friend, and she adored him for it.
Luna gazed into the horizon as Hedwig set off to deliver her reply.
This was going to be a perfect summer.
She ran a bath, humming along to the warbles of barn swallows while she soaked, and traded her nightgown for a white tee and a pair of skinny jeans.
Lightly prancing down the spiral staircase, twisting around a dusty heap of derelict printing equipment, dodging a precariously arranged pile of books, and hopping over a pile of dried dittany root, Luna opened the pantry and set to breakfast.
Twelve minutes later she was spooning oats silently, as she gazed gratefully around the house. Daddy was on a research trip for the next few weeks, so the common areas were much tidier than usual.
She'd just wrapped clean-up when she heard a tap on the foyer window.
"Hedwig! Hi! Meet me upstairs!"
Hopping and dodging and twisting and prancing back up the spiral staircase, she unlatched her bedroom window and welcomed the snowy owl back on the perch. Three treats, a few sips, and a healthy snug later, she accepted the message tied to Hedwig's left leg.
"Look at you! You must be exhausted. You're welcome to rest here, Hedwig. I can send Asher back in a moment."
At this, Hedwig chirped and bobbed, and Luna nuzzled comfortably into a worn wingback situated opposite her four-poster.
She broke the seal promptly and unfolded the note in a gleeful rush.
It was Harry. Of course it was Harry, but it had seemed too much to hope for. She'd never kept anyone's attention. But this was the second note from the boy who'd sat with her for, what was it, at least an hour — just to talk.
As soon as she opened the letter, time slowed. She sipped the words.
At first she grinned — a big, toothy grin with wide eyes. A few moments later, her brow furrowed, her lips pursed, and she shook her head with determination. And just then, a calm settled over her disposition. She smiled again, and giggled, and then blushed.
She read the letter again. And then a third time. Dropping the letter to her lap, her lower lip dropped just a touch, her eyes shifted to the distant horizon, and she breathed, slowly exhaling.
It was just at this moment that she marched directly to her bed, threw her face into a pile of down pillows, and squealed like a giddy schoolgirl.
After she caught her breath, she settled back into her desk and penned a response.
Hi Harry Potter.
I don't always know what to say to people. I suspect that I trespass social boundaries sometimes, and it isn't unusual that I learn that what I've said, or how I said it, or when I said it, made someone uncomfortable. So I sincerely hope that isn't what will happen now.
Today is my favorite day. Thank you for giving me my favorite day.
I'm sorry to hear that you've been alone, and that you've felt alone (which is much worse).
Yes, I know what happened that evening at the tournament. Only in the way that someone can know how high a mountain is by reading about it in a book. I cannot imagine the climbing of it. I don't know what burdens you're carrying now, Harry. But if I can, I'd like to help you carry them.
You stopped yourself. You said that I don't want to think about dark things. No, Harry Potter.
The things we encounter, whether light or dark, they become a part of us. The hard things, the dark things, they shape us too. And I wouldn't know you, Harry Potter, if you kept them from me. And I want to know you.
That was what I left the train with. I left knowing that I wanted to know you. Introduce yourself to me, Harry.
Luna L.
PS - Hedwig and I have become friends, and I've offered my perch for a bit of rest. Sending Asher to deliver this letter, and to await a reply. Is that too forward?
After folding and sealing the parchment, Luna leaned out of the open window and hummed three bars of an ancient melody. In a few moments, a midnight black raven flew into the room and settled beside Hedwig (who looked distinctly off-put by the sudden intrusion).
"Asher, find Harry Potter and give him this. And Asher? Don't leave until he sends something back."
The raven set off immediately.