Public: At the Kitchen Sink.
Tracy had never written anything with Luna in it before, much less a ficlet from the strange Ravenclaw's point of view, but ranchangrnl had requested it so here she was. It was quite overdue, and the entire thing was so ridiculous it embarrassed her, but she hoped Cath wouldn't mind too much...
The little black hairs around the Stump between Harry Potter's Legs (SbHPL) grew just a little bit longer every time Luna looked.
And look she did; ever since first year she had followed Harry around with her little green notebook collecting any data she could on him. Appearance (disheveled), height (4'4"), clothes (6 sizes too big, lots of brown shirts, socks that pooled around his ankles…), habits and mannerisms (he always bit his lip when nervous), friends (Ron and Hermione, that was easy enough), favourite sayings (bloody tulips!), pet peeves (Malfoy), the average number of times he pushed his glasses up his nose per hour (5.7), which fingers he used to push his glasses up his nose with (middle, sometimes middle and index), the probability of him choosing pumpkin juice over milk on any given morning (79.4%)…
Anyway. It wasn't until second year that she finally figured out how to use her Puffy Orange Pouf (POP) to spy on the Gryffindor boys' showers. The time and effort she'd spent working on it had been worth it, though; the data gleamed from her POP had been priceless. Who knew that Harry Potter had a little stump nestled between his legs, almost as if it were meant to be a third leg? Luna was sure the poor boy had been born with it, and was glad for him that his enormous trousers could hide the deformity; Harry got enough unwanted attention as it was.
Over time she'd gotten used to the sight of it, always just hanging uselessly between his legs when he showered, but now it was third year and she'd noticed something singularly disturbing: there were little black hairs growing around the SbHPL. In fact, there were little black hairs growing on his legs, too.
What if he was turning into one of those fabled magical orangutans? Luna's eyes widened and she scribbled madly in her little green notebook, becoming more and more convinced of her theory with every day that passed and every change she documented (even his voice is becoming deeper and more orangutan-like).
Then The Day came. The Day was the day in which not only did the hairs around the SbHPL grow, the SbHPL itself grew. It grew alarmingly quickly, lengthening and thickening in a matter of minutes. At this rate it would be impossible to hide even in Harry's enormous trousers by the next morning, and Luna was so caught up in the rush of pity and compassion she felt for the tragic young hero that she left off watching through the POP from the safety of her dorm and ran all the way up to Gryffindor tower. She was determined to help him.
Harry's hand was wrapped around the SbHPL when she burst into the shower, and his head snapped up. He immediately leg go of the SbHPL and looked so red and panicked that Luna cooed at him. She promised that it would be okay, that she understood what it was like to be different, that she wasn't judging him, that she wouldn't tell anyone, that she'd help him remove it.
Her impassioned speech had much the opposite of the intended effect, however; not only did Harry not relax, he looked more and more uncomfortable, seizing a towel to hide the SbHPL with and stuttering whenever she paused for breath. When she reached the end, his only response to her altruistic offer was to squeak loudly and positively dart past her and out of the bathroom, still only in a towel.
Luna looked at the spot he'd stood at only moments before and sighed. Poor boy, it must be such a shock to discover that his secret had been found out. She would give him time, though, and eventually he'd come around and let her help.
In fact, maybe she already had helped, a little. Somehow. That squeak he'd let out had been more unorangutanish than anything that had come out of his mouth in months.
Luna allowed herself a small smile and wrote in her little green notebook, "Everything will be okay indeed."
The little black hairs around the Stump between Harry Potter's Legs (SbHPL) grew just a little bit longer every time Luna looked.
And look she did; ever since first year she had followed Harry around with her little green notebook collecting any data she could on him. Appearance (disheveled), height (4'4"), clothes (6 sizes too big, lots of brown shirts, socks that pooled around his ankles…), habits and mannerisms (he always bit his lip when nervous), friends (Ron and Hermione, that was easy enough), favourite sayings (bloody tulips!), pet peeves (Malfoy), the average number of times he pushed his glasses up his nose per hour (5.7), which fingers he used to push his glasses up his nose with (middle, sometimes middle and index), the probability of him choosing pumpkin juice over milk on any given morning (79.4%)…
Anyway. It wasn't until second year that she finally figured out how to use her Puffy Orange Pouf (POP) to spy on the Gryffindor boys' showers. The time and effort she'd spent working on it had been worth it, though; the data gleamed from her POP had been priceless. Who knew that Harry Potter had a little stump nestled between his legs, almost as if it were meant to be a third leg? Luna was sure the poor boy had been born with it, and was glad for him that his enormous trousers could hide the deformity; Harry got enough unwanted attention as it was.
Over time she'd gotten used to the sight of it, always just hanging uselessly between his legs when he showered, but now it was third year and she'd noticed something singularly disturbing: there were little black hairs growing around the SbHPL. In fact, there were little black hairs growing on his legs, too.
What if he was turning into one of those fabled magical orangutans? Luna's eyes widened and she scribbled madly in her little green notebook, becoming more and more convinced of her theory with every day that passed and every change she documented (even his voice is becoming deeper and more orangutan-like).
Then The Day came. The Day was the day in which not only did the hairs around the SbHPL grow, the SbHPL itself grew. It grew alarmingly quickly, lengthening and thickening in a matter of minutes. At this rate it would be impossible to hide even in Harry's enormous trousers by the next morning, and Luna was so caught up in the rush of pity and compassion she felt for the tragic young hero that she left off watching through the POP from the safety of her dorm and ran all the way up to Gryffindor tower. She was determined to help him.
Harry's hand was wrapped around the SbHPL when she burst into the shower, and his head snapped up. He immediately leg go of the SbHPL and looked so red and panicked that Luna cooed at him. She promised that it would be okay, that she understood what it was like to be different, that she wasn't judging him, that she wouldn't tell anyone, that she'd help him remove it.
Her impassioned speech had much the opposite of the intended effect, however; not only did Harry not relax, he looked more and more uncomfortable, seizing a towel to hide the SbHPL with and stuttering whenever she paused for breath. When she reached the end, his only response to her altruistic offer was to squeak loudly and positively dart past her and out of the bathroom, still only in a towel.
Luna looked at the spot he'd stood at only moments before and sighed. Poor boy, it must be such a shock to discover that his secret had been found out. She would give him time, though, and eventually he'd come around and let her help.
In fact, maybe she already had helped, a little. Somehow. That squeak he'd let out had been more unorangutanish than anything that had come out of his mouth in months.
Luna allowed herself a small smile and wrote in her little green notebook, "Everything will be okay indeed."