Very well. His name is Harry."
"…?"
"He is the estranged twin brother of John Potter."
"What? That wuss doesn't have a brother!" she shouted.
"The Potters abandoned Harry with Lily's muggle relatives just after Voldemort's attack. I've been raising him in secret for quite a while now."
He couldn't see under her mask, but he was pretty sure her mouth was hanging open.
She huffed. "And you want me to meet him? All Potters are pathetic."
"You never met Harry's great-uncle did you."
"Well, no. Why?"
"Charlus Potter was not a man you wanted to mess with. He was one of the few who almost defeated Voldemort during his first rise."
"You mean his only rise."
"Of course."
"…"
"…"
"Harry will also be just one year above you at Hogwarts, and will likely also be sorted into Slytherin."
"Okay. I'll meet him."
"Excellent. My hope is that you can both further your studies together. You'll find he is very competent."
"I'd rather learn with you!"
"Unfortunately, right now, that isn't possible, but you will find Harry is more than capable of taking my place."
Alex didn't look convinced, but it was the best he was going to manage for the moment.
Harry stood at the far edge of a clearing in the Rookery gardens and regarded Luna. She had just succeeded in casting her first wandless protego. She was a quick learner. There were only a few more spells she needed.
"Well done, Luna. Pretty soon you'll be able to start duelling practise with some of the others I've been teaching."
"Yay. More friends." She glided over and hugged him… again. Luna had turned out to demand more hugs than even Ginny. Considering he'd spent the first twenty-some years of his life without a single hug, he wasn't complaining.
He was just pulling away when he noticed they weren't alone. A man and a woman stood, side-by-side at the garden's edge, watching them. It was still early afternoon. Luna hadn't mentioned her parents would be home today.
"Um… Hello," he said. Luna turned around to see whom he was addressing.
"Well hello there young man," said Xenophilius Lovegood, his shoulder length blond hair framed his young but well-travelled face. "I hope your intentions towards my daughter there are honourable."
He glanced at the nine-year-old girl in front of him before looking back at the man. Lord Lovegood didn't look angry, just curious.
"Yes?" he said, very uncertain.
"Excellent." He seemed pleased. "Then we can start writing up the betrothal contract."
"…"
He hadn't just heard that correctly? Had he? He'd accepted Luna being a bit odd, but her parents too? Lady Lovegood wasn't making any effort to disapprove of or contradict her husband, and they didn't look like they were joking. The Lovegoods weren't poor. They ran the second most circulated newspaper in the country, and were noble, dealing with the backstabbing politics of the Wizengamot on a regular basis. They were powerful, and powerful people who made stupid decisions didn't remain powerful for long. Therefore, this offer wasn't stupid. But he couldn't see the reasoning behind it.
Oh.
"Lord Lovegood, you know that I'm not John Potter, don't you?"
"Yes Harry. I know that you are Harry."
"Just Harry?"
"Luna made it very clear that your last name is," —he made quotation marks with his fingers—"a super duper secret. But, having seen you, I suspect I can guess what it is."
"I am not next in line to the Potter Lordship."
"That is not a problem."
It still didn't make any sense.
"I am already subject to a betrothal contract."
"Even better! A consort contract will even allow Luna to continue the Lovegood name."
Every political brain cell in his head was screaming in terror. It was too easy! Life doesn't work like this! You don't just get given awesome stuff! He glanced to Luna who stood to the side beaming a lumos-maximus smile towards her father.
"Lord Lovegood, I'm very honoured. I don't understand though. Why would you offer me Luna without knowing anything about me?"
"I know you've been practising wandless magic with Luna — a skill that you are proficient in despite your age."
'Okay,' he thought.
"I know that you are independent and responsible, since you are able to move freely, and without parental oversight or consent."
'Okay.'
"I know you are politically intelligent from your questions to my offer."
Harry raised a mental eyebrow at the post-decision rationalisation.
"I know another family, traditional enough to use betrothal contracts, deems you worthwhile enough to be party to one."
'Social proof,' he thought, 'But Lord Lovegood knows he doesn't know the political alignment of my betrothed.'
"I know you were able to afford said contract, and that you are dressed in acromantula-silk closed-robes, and dragonhide boots."
'More post-decision rationalisation.'
.
.
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