Yours, Luna Lovegood

The Introduction

Shortly after Hedwig's departure, Harry tossed on a beaten pair of blue jeans, grabbed the latest copy of the Quibbler and settled into the far corner of his cluttered room. Shoving aside a few tattered volumes of last year's textbooks and a pile of dirty laundry, he sat leaning against the wall with his legs idly crossed.

He didn't expect another letter today. But he couldn't help but hope for one. And every few minutes he found himself second-guessing — dwelling obsessively on what he wrote, or what he could have written, and how it may have been perceived. He wondered what she might be thinking, how she might respond.

He was spiraling, and he needed a distraction.

The front page of the Quibbler featured an amateur sketch of a moon frog, blinking occasionally and wearing a sinister expression. Behind it, a divided Wizengamot was boiling nearly to an uproar. The headline: A DARK INFLUENCE DIVIDING THE WIZARDING WORLD. This was going to be great.

After finishing the headline editorial, a short piece on a troubling infestation of Wrackspurts plaguing the press affairs office of the Ministry, and a meandering exposé on the rapid decline in tenure length at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a midnight black raven literally tore through the paper with a short, and mildly frustrated, grunt.

Harry shouted, nearly wet himself, threw the paper haphazardly aside, and reached desperately for the wand laying (inconveniently) four feet to his right.

That's when he noticed the letter tied neatly just above to the raven's right talon.

"Oh! Geez. Um... Hi. I'm Harry."

The raven tottled, dipped his head respectfully twice, and uttered a polite, guttural croak.

"What's your name? I wasn't expecting you. Do you, uh, do you like owl treats?"

The raven hopped lightly, and gave a quick, measured squeak.

Harry invited the bird to his forearm and carried him carefully to Hedwig's perch.

It took every ounce of resolve not to rush the introductory formalities, because Harry was desperate to read that note.

Once the Raven had a few bites to eat and a bit of water, Harry carefully untied the letter and returned to his sitting corner.

He took a quick breath, paused a beat, and exhaled slowly. He was excited, and felt foolish for it. It hardly made sense that his pulse had quickened, that his heart was in his throat. A sage voice whispered in the rear stage of his mind, "Measure your expectations, boy, this sort of thing is nearly always a disappointment." He refused to listen.

Just before breaking the seal, he noticed the words, "To Harry" magically etched on the wax in Luna's delicate script. Suddenly all of his apprehension dissolved. What a wonderful way to begin.

An unconscious sigh escaped Harry's lips as he read the first lines. His face froze for a moment, breaking into wide eyes and a sharp intake of breath. A calm settled over his features as he felt, perhaps for the first time, truly understood. A moment later, his eyes blurred, and with one hand he lifted his disheveled glasses from the bridge of his nose while with the other he wiped a tear from his right eye.

"That was what I left the train with. I left knowing that I wanted to know you. Introduce yourself to me, Harry."

Harry Potter was overcome. He forced himself to lay the letter aside, overwhelmed with the notion that this — whatever this was — was precisely what he needed. He couldn't shake the sense that the vague distress which he'd carried for years was leading him to a moment of resolution in this letter, in those words.