It started with breakfast.
Ethan had just taken a seat in the Great Hall, halfway through buttering a scone, when Luna Lovegood sat down beside him. Quietly. No greeting, no announcement. She placed her plate down with gentle care, pulled a jug of pumpkin juice toward her with both hands, and began buttering toast.
At first, Ethan assumed she had simply sat near him by chance, there were plenty of open spots. It wasn't so strange for first-years to mix among the older students every so often. But then it happened again at lunch. And again at dinner.
Every day now.
Always within arm's reach.
Even now, a few days in, she never said much unless he spoke first, content to hum tuneless melodies or speak in fragments about the "invisible whispers" of the castle or the "shimmering clouds" above their heads no one else could see. She brought oddities with her sometimes, a handful of pebbles she insisted were lucky, a feather she claimed came from a flying badger, or a wrinkled drawing of a creature with eight eyes and a monocle. He'd say that he would be able to grow used to her strangeness. But this was new.
She was following him.
Not in the overt way that made someone feel in danger, no. Luna didn't lurk or skulk. She drifted behind him like a balloon on a string, always just a few paces away. She never tried to stop him or ask where he was going, she just came along. Like a shadow with opinions about Nargles.
He didn't know what to do.
And, strangely, no one else did either. Most of the Ravenclaws gave Luna wide berth, either unsure of how to speak to her or unwilling to try. When they saw her floating along behind Ethan, their expressions shifted, curiosity, pity, a bit of secondhand discomfort. But none said anything aloud.
Even in the Ravenclaw common room, she appeared.
He had tried to sneak in early one evening, hoping for an hour of peace with his books before the usual late-night crowd filled the space. But no more than five minutes had passed before Luna strolled in, her wand behind her ear and an open book held upside down in both hands.
She looked up, smiled, and without a word, sat across from him.
Ethan stared.
She stared back. Or maybe through him.
Eventually, he gave in and pulled his notes closer. He tried to ignore the sound of her humming a tune that didn't follow any rhythm or key.
He hadn't been able to make it to the Room of Requirement in nearly a week.
There was no polite way to slip away unnoticed anymore. Luna was observant in the strangest ways oblivious to some things, yet incredibly tuned into others. If he left, she followed. If he tried to loop around hallways, she wandered after him in the exact same spiral.
If she had anynother class going the opposite direction, he wouldnt see her. But if her class was on the way to his, she seemed to always find a way to be near him.
He supposed this must be what Harry Potter felt like with Colin Creevey in his second year. Only instead of constant photography, Ethan got opinions on why ghosts wore shoes and updates on the migratory patterns of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.
He was tired.
Not of her, exactly. She hadn't done anything wrong. But she was unpredictable, exhausting in a quiet, persistent way. Being around Luna meant never having control of the conversation, or even your thoughts. She was a constant reminder that the world didn't always make sense. And when your world was a carefully balanced lie—that you weren't from this reality, that you knew how it was supposed to go—that kind of unpredictability was terrifying.
So Ethan found himself stuck in a loop.
Followed.
Surrounded.
On top of that, he still hadn't noticed anything wrong with his mother.
Which, somehow, made it worse.
She was still growing in popularity. Her lessons were more engaging now, filled with hands-on demonstrations and clever theory that most students enjoyed. The classroom had become one of the highlights of Ethan's day. It felt... wrong.
Too right.
And he didn't have a way to explain what he knew. What he feared.
There were no strange whispers. No vanishing students. No frozen cats.
So far, the year was going perfectly. No signs of the chamber of secrets opening.
Which only made Ethan more suspicious.
Especially now, with Luna watching him like some kind of spacey sentry. He knew she didn't know, she couldn't possibly know. But it felt like she saw. As if she were staring through the surface of things, gently peeling back the curtain and looking at the wires.
Tonight, back in the common room again, he finally spoke.
"Luna," he said, setting down his ink quill. "Why do you keep following me?"
She blinked slowly, like an owl considering its prey. "I like how your thoughts sound."
He stared. "My... what?"
"They're very quiet. Neat. Like alphabetized books. Most people have noisy ones. Jumbled. Yours are different."
Ethan exhaled. "Right."
She tilted her head. "Does it bother you?"
He hesitated. "A little."
"I see."
She didn't move. Didn't look upset. Didn't apologize.
She just... existed.
After a moment, she added, "I'll try to follow you less, then."
It wasn't a promise. It wasn't even a conclusion. It was a gentle offering, one she might forget in the morning.
Still, Ethan appreciated it.
He stayed silent, watching the fire crackle in the hearth as Luna went back to reading her book upside-down.
There were no disasters yet. No mysteries beyond Luna's behavior. But that didn't mean things were fine.
Sometimes the quiet hid the danger.
Sometimes the world just gave you space to prepare.
And Ethan didn't know if he was ready.
Not for whatever he knew was coming.