Chapter Eight: Maid Girl Luna
Elian peered through the glass at the sole occupant of the quiet compartment. She had long, dirty-blonde hair, silvery, protuberant eyes that seemed to look at and through things simultaneously, and was reading a magazine held upside-down. Radish earrings dangled from her lobes, and a necklace of butterbeer corks rested against her chest. On anyone else, it might have seemed bizarre. On her, it was strangely compelling.
Luna Lovegood.
He took a breath and knocked gently on the door.
Luna's gaze drifted toward the sound, though it seemed to settle on a point slightly above his head rather than on his face. Her expression was one of mild, distant curiosity.
"Hello," Elian said, sliding the door open. "My name is Elian Throne. Is it alright if I sit here? The other compartments are… rather full."
"Yes," Luna replied, her voice dreamy and light. "But you'll want to mind the Wrackspurts. They're quite thick in the doorway."
Elian, who had spent a lifetime with the stories, simply nodded as if this were perfectly sensible. He stepped inside, storing his trunk overhead, and sat down opposite her. Close up, her eclectic style was even more pronounced—a combination of colours and textures that defied convention but somehow suited her ethereal quality.
"Aren't you worried about the Wrackspurts?" he asked, deciding to play along.
Luna looked up, her silvery eyes finally meeting his—or perhaps focusing on a spot just behind his left ear. "My name is Luna Lovegood. I'm a fourth-year in Ravenclaw." She touched her cork necklace. "This helps keep them away. It's only the one, though. I don't have a spare."
Elian leaned forward, examining the necklace with a genuine smile. "It's very effective, then. It's wonderfully quiet in here. Took me ages to find a spot."
"People tend to gather where the Wrackspurts are thickest," Luna confided, lowering her voice as she leaned in. Her breath smelled faintly of peppermint. "They make everything fuzzy and loud. They don't like it here, so it's peaceful." Having delivered this explanation, she sat back and returned to her upside-down Quibbler.
"Lo— Luna," Elian began.
"You can call me Luna."
"Luna… didn't you come with any friends? Doesn't it get a bit lonely?"
"Friends?" Luna considered this, her head tilting like a curious bird. "I don't have any of those."
Elian fell silent, mentally kicking himself. Of course. In the books, her real friendships came later, forged in shared danger. Right now, she was just 'Loony Lovegood' to most of the school.
"Well," he said, the words out before he could overthink them. "Could I be your friend? I know I'm only a first-year, but I'm actually sixteen. I'm a bit… behind schedule."
Luna's gaze shifted, finally locking directly with his. There was no suspicion, no surprise, just a calm assessment. "Alright," she said simply. "I'm fourteen. So I'm your senior in school, but you're my older brother in age. You'll be my first friend."
The ease of it took his breath away. There were no tests, no awkward negotiations. Just acceptance.
The rest of the journey passed in a gentle, meandering conversation. Elian listened, utterly captivated, as Luna explained in earnest detail about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, the Rotfang Conspiracy, and why the Ministry was secretly farming Heliopaths. He asked questions, not to humour her, but because he genuinely wanted to understand the unique landscape of her mind. No one disturbed them; a few older students glanced in, saw Luna, and hurried past.
As dusk painted the countryside in shades of purple and gold, the train began to slow. Luna, familiar with the routine, closed her magazine. "We're nearly there. It's time to change into our robes."
Elian nodded, fetching his new Hogwarts robes from his trunk. When they stepped out into the corridor, now bustling with students pulling on robes and gathering belongings, a noticeable ripple went through the crowd. Whispers followed them like a trailing mist.
"Look, he was with Loony Lovegood all trip…"
"Who is he? He's too old to be a first-year…"
"Handsome, but probably as mad as she is if he sat with her…"
Luna seemed utterly impervious, floating along in her own world. Elian ignored them, his gaze scanning the crowd until he spotted a familiar bushy head. Hermione was emerging from a compartment with Harry, Ron, and a redheaded girl he guessed was Ginny. Hermione saw him, started to raise a hand in greeting, then noticed Luna at his side. Her smile faltered, replaced by a look of polite confusion before she turned away to speak urgently to Harry.
Elian almost laughed. She's going to be one of your best friends in a year, Hermione. Give her a chance.
(End of Chapter)
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