Lovegood to be Insane
House: Gryffindor
Task: Wandlore, Task #2
Forum: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments)
A/N: So, it's been a while. But honestly, balancing education and writing, it's a bit of a problem. Like, what kind of teacher decides to assign an annotated bibliography over Thanksgiving Break? I'm 13! I didn't even know what an annotated bibliography was until 3 minutes ago! Anyways, this is a bit of a rushed story, so forgive me in advance. Enjoy!
There was never a time when the Lovegoods were considered normal. As far as anyone knew, a prestigious Lovegood had decided to marry the town loon, ultimately dooming future generations to a life of crazy antics.
Luna never understood the stereotypes pressured on her family. They were simply humans, after all. However ludicrous or unbelievable their actions may have been, they were reasonable. At least in her eyes, they were. Luna believed the theory that her family was special. Insanity dulled the pain no one knew she felt. Mythical creatures distracted her from what monsters awaited her.
It all took away the pain of losing her mother.
Luna never believed she was an unpredictable person. Unpredictable sounded like a crazy madman on the loose, everyone anticipating his next move with bated breath, shivering in fear but stirring in excitement. No, she was not like that.
Losing a person who understands, who cares, who knows what it feels like to be shunned can drive a person to the edge of insanity. Luna already lived with her feet dangling on the edge of the cliff. Nothing was left but for one foot to slip, for a few rocks to go tumbling down and a girl with dirty blonde hair falling along with them.
The first time Luna Lovegood was unpredictable was when the Healers at St. Mungo's walked out her mother's operation room when she was nine. It was then she learned that grief has no age, no limits, no stopping. It creeps through your veins like a virus, planting itself in the deepest corners of your mind and rearing its ugly head at the most inconvenient. The look on the Healer's face was enough in itself, and Luna didn't stop to think how the doors had flown of their hinges in an uncontrollable burst of anger anf fear, or how it was suddenly dark. She couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't feel. It was as if someone had shut down her body. But she didn't care either.
She just had to leave.
Luna reached a field, way out of the proximity of London, but for now all she cared about was leaving, leaving, leaving, falling, falling, falling . . .
Why was it that she couldn't hear her mother's laugh anymore? She couldn't picture the dirty-blonde hair so like hers, the wide, brown eyes always full of adventure, the smell of various herbs and chemicals mingling and filling the house with a homely smell.
She screamed; it tore through her lungs, ripped apart her ears, shook the ground. Under normal circumstances, she would've noticed the grass exploding next to her, uprooted flowers tearing through the sky, landing in her hair, but what did it all matter? What mattered anymore? Her tears froze to her face, flying into her hair dirty and matted with grass and dew, and she couldn't seem to dry her eyes.
Later, she would blame it on the Wrackspurts her mother had told her about, the tiny creatures that floated in your ears and made your brain go fuzzy. She was sure that if someone were to see her now, the full picture, they'd see a silly little girl who had a dream for adventure and had gotten away from her parents again.
Could she get away from anyone if no one loved her?
Hours later, her father hauled her back to the house, and she managed to skip her mother's funeral by unknowingly locking the door to her room.
The incident had forever affected her. Her father had become distant and peculiar, as if he was trying to live as her mother but couldn't quite reach that level of insanity. He bought a copier, and it became like his second and only child. He never parted with it; whenever she saw him, he was always hunched over the device, printing and copying, printing and copying, printing, copying, crying, crying, printing, copying, crying, copying, crying, crying, crying.
She became peculiar, the Hogwarts students branding her as Loony Lovegood, hiding her possessions when she really would like them back, thank you.
Was it normal for humans to shun you for trying to remember the one you loved? Her mother was never shunned, neither was her father. So why was it her? Why was she the weird one, the one with a loose screw? She was only being her mother, trying to remember.
She continued her mother's experiments, her research, trying to convince everyone that Nargles, they did exist, and the Crumple Horned Snorkack was shy, just living in hiding.
Laughter.
Laughter followed her where she went, stayed with her when she slept, woke her up in the morning, ate the food meant for her, spilt it out all over her, and left her sopping wet in tears. Sometimes, she couldn't differentiate between her mother's laugh, and another one.
Insanity was no disease, it was part of her. As one thing goes another comes. As Luna's mother left, her insanity stayed behind.
Look. I don't know what that was either, but it was something. I think Luna's ghost might've possessed me. I hope you enjoyed that little burst of insanity. Reviews are appreciated!
-Parvati Patil