Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
"Hey, can you really see thestrals?" asks the first year boy. At first the girl he is addressing doesn't answer, still leaning back and basking in the sun by a column. Then she sits up and sighs, absentmindedly twirling her radish earrings.
"Yes, I can," she says quietly, with a sad smile. She makes an attempt to derail him. "Do you know you have a Nargle on your head?"
The boy quickly checks the top of his head. She leans back, purposely showing her outlandish earrings, hoping he'll dismiss her as loony and leave her alone.
It's a good defense she's built. Ravenclaws don't ask loony people questions. Of course, it does hurt when people whisper to each other as she walks by. It hurts when people take her belongings and hide them, even if they usually return them. But she's gotten over it; at least, that's what she tells the few people who aren't scared off by her demeanor.
It's not all a defense. She honestly does believe a lot of the stuff she tells people. But being detached helps with grief. She learned from her dad's example after her mother died.
"How do you see thestrals?" the boy asks.
"Why does anyone see anything? This whole world could be an illusion or a soap bubble waiting to be popped," she says, adopting a high- pitched tone.
Seeing him still waiting, her eyes turn cold. "It's simple to see a thestral," she tells him. "Just take a mother and a cauldron. Watch her experiment. Watch her tip a Muggle chemical into a magical liquid. Watch the opposite elements fight. Watch the experiment go wrong. Watch the mother die as the best healers in England are unable to do anything."
She stops, realizing her outburst has attracted the attention of many.
"Don't forget about the nargles," she quickly adds.
As the people turn back to their conversations, relieved that "Loony" Lovegood is back to being an object to laugh at, she leans back and closes her eyes, resolutely ignoring the world.
Again.
A bit short? Tell me!
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