"Luna?" Penelope echoes, looking as lost as Harry feels. "Oh, that's right. Lovegood? Professor Flitwick told me about you." The straggly-haired girl smiles, and Harry notices for the first time her feet are bare.

"This is Luna Lovegood," Penelope addresses the rest of the group in a louder tone. "She's ten years old, but due to special circumstances, she's come to Hogwarts a year early. She'll be taking some classes with you. I want you all to welcome her and make her feel at home."

With that, Penelope leaves them to get settled. Harry finds herself claiming a bed between the mysterious Luna and Hermione.

"Hi," Harry offers awkwardly to the blonde-haired girl. "I'm Harry."

"I know who you are," Luna says, a serene smile quirking her mouth. "Father's out of the country for the next two years, searching for a new sub-species of erumpent, so he decided with Headmaster Dumbledore that I should come to Hogwarts early rather than a year late." A frown settles between Luna's brows at the mention of Dumbledore.

"I guess that makes sense," Harry says, rearranging her trunk a bit. Hermione won't stop giving Luna uncertain glares. "This is Hermione, by the way," Harry adds, hooking a thumb toward the bushy-haired girl, who flushes scarlet and mumbles a strangled greeting.

"Is your name from Shakespeare?" Luna asks with interest. Hermione blinks, then nods once. "I thought so," Luna smiles. "You have the look. Good night, Harry. Good night, Hermione. Pleasant dreams. I hope the Nargles don't wake you."

And with that, the eccentric child closes her bed curtains with a slight thump.

"She's loony," Morag MacDougal hisses from the next bed, eyes alight with mischief.

"Lay off," Harry defends, surprising herself. "She's just different, that's all." Like me, she adds in her head as she slips under her own covers. The bed is sinfully soft, nothing like her own threadbare mattress at the Dursleys', and she snuggles into it with a luxuriant sigh.

Her dreams are broken and uneasy, full of flashes of green light and a high, cruel laugh that makes Harry's ears hurt. She wakes up early, her sheets soaked in sweat, bolting up and panting for breath in the grey light of the dormitory.

"Just a dream," Harry whispers to herself, with a shaky laugh. A bathroom trip is more than in order, and it's a good thing she manages to go first before realising Luna's in one of the shower cubicles, wrapped up in an enormous, fluffy blanket and staring at nothing.

"Luna?" she hisses, alarm prickling the back of her neck. "Luna, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Luna replies, but her eyes are still painfully blank and Harry can see the infinitesimal tremble in her fingers.

"I had a bad dream," Harry decides to share, sitting down on the ice-cold tiles next to the younger girl. "Did you?"

"You could call it that," Luna says, her voice still airy, but at least there is a bit more self-awareness in light grey eyes when she peers up at Harry. "Oh, it's you, Harry. You look dreadful."

"Thanks," Harry says wryly.

"Like your head is full of Wrackspurts," Luna nods. She starts playing with the ends of her hair. "Harry?" she finally looks up again, peering at Harry in earnest.

"Yeah?" Harry asks, shifting her weight. The tiles really are freezing, and her bum feels like it might turn to ice at this rate.

"Will you be my friend?" Luna says, her eyes overly large, her mouth shaking just a bit, and those ridiculous radish earrings bobbing against her neck.

"Sure," Harry replies, unprepared for Luna throwing herself into her lap, fluffy blanket and all. She nearly tips right over before managing to steady herself and give Luna a very awkward hug back.

"Let's go back to sleep, okay," Harry suggests, eager to get away from the cold tiles and painfully bright lights. Luna nods dreamily and virtually floats upright, her blanket still tucked tight around herself.

"Good night again, Harry," Luna whispers and tiptoes past her. Harry runs a hand through her sweaty fringe and sighs before following her. She can use a few more hour's sleep if she can get it.