The Making of Luna Lovegood
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, concepts and locations are the sole property of J.K. Rowling and her agents. The author claims no rights to the intellectual property contained here-in, with the sole exception of any original prose and concepts created.
I wasn't always Loony, you know? And I don't just mean the name. For most of my childhood I was the quintessential normal little girl - happy, lively, outgoing. We used to be a very tight-knit family; my parents both adored me, and me them. I suppose that's where everything went wrong. Family is indeed a great thing, but even great things can quickly become terrible.
I was only eight years old when it happened. The accident. Mummy was always working on her experiments - she really loved her job. Researching those things that were always mere fantasy for other witches and wizards. That day she was at home in her lab, experimenting. I stayed with her as she worked; it was fascinating to me to watch her work. It wasn't much really, I never learned what caused it - a split-second miscalculation, maybe even a slip-up in her brewing of the potion. It doesn't really matter now. All that matters is that it happened.
She shielded me. She stepped in frnt of the blast and protected me. Really, I sometimes wish taht she hadn't; no matter the physical, nothing that she did could have protected me from the emotional impact. Seeing Mummy's body falling to the ground in front of my eyes, her face contorted in pain - that's something that will be forever be imprinted on my mind. When Daddy came into the room he was distraught - we both cried as we hugged for hours, not moving from her side. It was the last time that I would cry for many years. I knew that nothing would ever be the same again. I stared at Daddy's shirt, unseeing, barely thinking. Shut off to the world.
I think I knew, even then, that I would be like that for a long time. Mummy was gone; and, at least for a while, Daddy was as good as too.
I was right, though. Things never were the same again. Our family was torn apart, and Daddy was distant for so long; I never had a chance to let go. I could never let go. Never get past Mummy's sacrifice. I threw myself into studying her notes, her discoveries of lost creatures and spells - reading her notes, it reminded me of those times that that I would watch her work, it was one last connection to her. Daddy eventujally moved on; he tried to make me do the same, tried to take away her books. I can understand now why he wanted to, but at the time I couldn't. The years passed slowly, but soon enough I was 11 years old. I was hardly ready to leave home, but Daddy thought it was best.
And even leaving home to attend Hogwarts had little effect on me. I was an outcast from the start, sitting on my own in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express and reading a copy of the Quibbler. That evening at Hogwarts only cemented my path. Even on the first night my new housemates coined the nickname that would stay with me throughout my Hogwarts years. It was saddening, even if I didn't let it affect me too much. If I'm honest, maybe I even took it upon myself to live up to it. I sometimes think that I really am Loony Luna Lovegood.
Author Note: This really didn't turn out as I wanted it to, but I'm posting it anyway. It was supposed to be a bit more extensive; leaving the style of the start for a more in-depth accounting of some times at Hogwarts -- but no matter how much I tried I just couldn't write it. Ah well. It's a little bit of a depressing ficlet (when I started this, I did want it to have at least brief moments of humor and happiness -- that didn't quite work out), but I hope that you enjoyed reading it anyway.