It had been another quiet day, the kind Hogwarts offered between storms, nothing out of place, nothing stirring in the shadows. Just lessons, lunch, spells, and textbooks. Ethan was grateful for the stillness.
But now, back in the stone-and-blue embrace of Ravenclaw Tower, homework lay stacked before him, parchment curling at the corners, a flickering enchanted candle lighting the table he had claimed for the evening. The quiet was nice
He then noticed someone walk up to him. He glanced over to see someone he had heard about from other first years and occasionally beyond.
Luna Lovegood.
Ethan didn't know her well, how could he? She was a first year, only a bit into her Hogwarts life. But already she stood out, drifting like mist through the halls with a dreamy smile and an unbothered air, her school robes occasionally worn inside-out.
People whispered about her. Snickered, sometimes. He had already seen it, how other Ravenclaws treated her when they thought she couldn't hear. As if she were some kind of cosmic accident that happened to wander into their structured life.
Ethan hated it.
He'd hated bullies ever sunde he could remeber, likely because he was a victim to them at one point in his previous life.
Luna's gaze flicked across the common room, and surprisingly, henoticed, onto him. For a moment, he thought she would walk right past.
Instead, she stepped forward, her bare feet nearly silent on the carpeted floor.
"Excuse me," she said softly. "Are you Ethan Wright?"
Ethan blinked. "Uh. Yes?"
"I thought so. I heard you were the top student in your year. I'm having trouble with something, and I thought you might be able to help."
He paused. "You want help with schoolwork?"
"Yes, if that's alright." She pulled out a single piece of parchment from the inner pocket of her robe, wrinkled and covered in delicate, looping handwriting. "It's Professor Flitwick's assignment. The incantation list and wand movements. Some of them keep slipping away."
"Slipping away?" he echoed.
"They don't like staying in my head. It's awfully crowded in there sometimes."
There was no sarcasm in her tone. No jest. She meant it.
Ethan gestured to the open space beside him on the long study bench. "Alright. I'll see what I can do."
She sat down lightly, almost as if she weighed less than the air itself, and passed the parchment to him.
As he scanned the assignment, she hummed quietly to herself, eyes wandering around the room like she was waiting for something invisible to appear.
Ethan started explaining. He pointed out the difference between Alohomora and Lumos wand movements, adjusting her hand grip for a wand movement she'd drawn incorrectly, and clarified that no, you didn't need to chant anything about moon frogs to make feathers float.
She listened with a tilted head and the occasional nod, her mind clearly dancing from his words to places he couldn't follow.
At one point, she leaned forward and whispered, "You have a very light aura. Not everyone does."
He wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he just moved on to the next incantation.
The minutes stretched awkwardly. Not because she was rude or disinterested, quite the opposite. She was attentive, inquisitive, and oddly sincere. But everything she said came wrapped in a strange fog of meaning that he couldn't quite decipher. She spoke of Wrackspurts and Nargles, mentioned how her father once said that dandelions were the true rulers of the moon, and asked whether he thought ghosts ever got bored of haunting the same corridor for a century.
Ethan tried. He really did.
But he didn't know what to say when she started talking about "thought spiders" that lived in forgotten memories or the "upside-down clocks" she claimed were hidden behind certain mirrors at Hogwarts. His understanding of this world, even with his foreknowledge, was rooted in logic, rules, timelines, canon events. But Luna was none of those things. She moved like poetry while he moved more like a spreadsheet.
By the end of their study session, he had explained the last four spells twice, her parchment had acquired a doodle of what she called a Blibbering Humdinger, and he was mentally exhausted.
Still, she looked pleased. "Thank you, Ethan," she said, standing. "You explain things like a river."
"I... do?"
"Yes. Very patiently. Though sometimes it floods, and I have to build little boats."
He just stared at her. She smiled. "I think I'll come to you again, if that's alright. You're very helpful. And your shoes don't make any noise. That's very important."
And with that, she walked off toward the girls' dormitory, humming a tune that didn't seem to have a melody, her feet once again bare.
Ethan sat motionless for a few seconds.
He didn't dislike her. Not at all.
In fact, he admired how unapologetically herself she was, how the cruelty and doubt of others seemed to slide off her like raindrops on glass. But being near her was... like trying to read a book written in a dream. Nothing quite stayed where it should.
He sighed, slumping against the back of the bench. "I think I need a nap."
A few Ravenclaws across the room glanced over curiously, but he ignored them. He packed his notes away, slid his wand into his holster, and stood.
Luna Lovegood was someone he hadn't expected to meet, much less help. And true to her word, she probably would return for help.
He just hoped next time, she brought her shoes. The halls were likely always cleaned, but he can not imagine walking around barefoot. Even at home he at least wore socks.
Are the other Ravenclaws already hiding her stuff? He sighed at the thought. People could be so petty for little to no reason, including himself.