January, 1990 (Two months into Ginny's occlumency training)]
Harry, disguised as Child-Lord-Slytherin, and wearing heavy winter robes, sat outside a Diagon Alley cafe. He polished off his full-English breakfast, and considered the top-floor-office four shops away, headquarters of most innovative newspaper in the country, The Quibbler.
Luna Lovegood had been a nervous, frightened child when he'd last been at Hogwarts, but Voldemort's memories showed her to be both loyal, and a competent duellist. She'd gone one-on-one with Yaxley, lived, and then taken a killing curse meant for his incompetent brother. She was an obvious asset. Luna and Alexandra would make perfect duelling partners for Ginny who were all childhood friends. The Lovegoods were also noble, owned a national newspaper, and were a light-sided family sitting on the edge of being Gray. Courting them was a no-brainer.
Being noble, he'd have to be more careful in how he handled Luna. With Ginny, he knew that if everything went to dragon dung, he could wipe her memory, and start over again. He'd have never dared use a compulsion-charmed necklace with a mental backdoor if Ginny were noble. The noble house rings made such tactics impossible.
He'd have to build his friendship with the Lovegood Heiress without such tactics, and there was an obvious point in the timeline where he'd be able to build a solid link. In the year before Hogwarts, Pandora Lovegood, Luna's mother, died during a spell crafting accident — an accident that was both predictable, and preventable. Stop Lady Lovegood's death, and Luna would be putty in his hands.
But that event would be less than six months before his first Hogwarts year, a dangerously small timeframe to both befriend and train her. He wasn't even sure the timeline would repeat itself anymore. He needed something sooner, but despite thinking for weeks, he hadn't come up with anything he liked.
He raised his orange juice to mouth-level, and fumbled for the straw with his mouth.
"Hello."
He tore his distracted focus away from The Quibbler Building, glanced towards the voice, and did a double take. He found himself looking into the silvery-gray eyes of Luna Lovegood.
"Would you like to be my friend? I don't have many friends."
No fucking way. His mouth switched to emergency autopilot while his brain malfunctioned and shut down.
"Yes, I would like to be your friend."
"Yay." The girl raised her hands in the air, glided over to him, and hugged him. She pulled away. "What's your name?"
"Harry."
"I'm Luna. Did you know you're surrounded by kerfuffling scribblebugs?"
"You know, I did not know that," he said, still stunned. His brain started to reboot. This was Luna Lovegood? Hogwarts must've really knocked the spirit from her. "What is a kerfuffling scribblebug?"
The short blonde smiled. "It's a type of flying beetle that hunts Nargles; they breed very fast when there is enough magic to support them."
"And they're incorporeal, invisible, and completely undetectable?"
Luna frowned. "I can see them."
"I believe you."
Luna's smile broke out again. She was wearing green, flowing, modern, open-robes with a white summer dress. It was an odd combination, and made her look like a white flower surrounded by long, green leaves. She must be really cold.
He thought for a moment. "How many do I have around me at the moment?"
She counted. "Fourteen."
Harry flipped open a notebook, and made a note. It stood to reason that if these possibly non-existent beetles were supported by magic, and reproduced, then there must be an environmental carrying capacity. If he had fourteen now, and that changed, it might mean something. Like an increase in magical power? It certainly wasn't the best way to quantify raw magical power, but if Luna could see them, it would be easy, and could be measured without the subject's knowing.
"Luna, do you have any kerfuffling scribblebugs?"
"Oh no Harry, very few wizards do."
Well scratch that idea then. He flipped the notebook shut.
"Fancy some cake?" he asked.
"Do they have pudding?"
"I'm sure they have pudding."
The girl clapped her hands, once. "I like pudding."
He smiled. 'Sometimes,' he thought, 'Fate can be such a sweet mistress.'
'And sometimes,' Harry thought, 'Fate can be a right bitch.'
He crouched behind a bush in a small park, opposite a line of drab looking London town houses, and recast his rain repelling charm. It was chucking it down. The sky was dark, the buildings were gray, and the ground slurped and squished around his dragonhide boots. It was just as well he'd already performed the ritual to give him near perfect eye-sight and hearing, or he'd have had serious problems with his glasses.
Twelve Grimmauld Place stood taunting him. So close, and yet, with its ancient war wards, it might as well be on the moon. The Weasleys had skimped when they'd constructed the ward system around the Burrow. Keyed portkey wards, keyed apparition wards, key-in and key-out wards, muggle repelling wards, and a basic magic shield. That was it. They didn't even have an anti-animagus ward. The Blacks, by contrast, believed that the strongest protections available, still weren't strong enough. They'd put up everything short of fidelius, and getting past them with discretion was not happening.
Direct mind magics also wouldn't work. Alexandra Black certainly wore a noble house ring. The only way he was going to get to her was by luring her outside. But how? Her father wouldn't have anything to do with the Neutrals, unless he thought he could persuade one of them to the Light. Ginny said her friendship with Alex had deteriorated recently, ever since Alex started becoming interested in darker magic, and Ginny started going after John Potter, the symbol of the Light. She never left the house by the front door, always by the floo.
Whatever he was going to do, it wouldn't be done standing here while the heavens tried their level best to drown him.
He apparated away with a *Crack* leaving two foot-shaped impressions in the ground, which quickly filled with muddy water.
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