My first year at Hogwarts, I remained oblivious to the level to which my oddness exceeded that of the average first year. I was unbothered when I was sorted into Ravenclaw—it was nice to be acknowledged for one's intelligence occasionally—and I hadn't a problem with the other girls in my dormitory. I did regret not getting to see Ginny Weasley more often as she was the only girl I knew at the school, but I saw her in potions and charms and some other sundry classes, so it was alright.
It was odd, though, because sometimes I didn't much feel like being at school. I always did my work and studied, but I could never bring myself to fully commit my brain to the memorization of pointless facts and statistics. It was boring; it was easy—this combination made it uncannily difficult. I would often find myself standing on my head in the corner of the library during dinnertime, my feet balancing on the wall and my elbows steady on the floor as my face, I am sure, turned dreadfully red and I memorized my history lesson in relative entertainment. No one ever saw me, which was good because my skirt often fell over my head. Being in the library on my head in a corner during dinnertime obviously prevented me from being in attendance at the Great Hall, and thus my habit of not eating continued.
Regardless, I studied and I did well. However, I didn't much care. In fact, I didn't much care about anything in regards to the school—minus the astronomy tower which was incredible and I'd often sneak out in a very sly manner and run to the top of the school, camping out and staring at the stars and the moon and sometimes even when it was cold I would do this or if it was raining because it felt so good and was ever so liberating, like being with that gnome in the tree, except I was never obliged to come down—until the Chamber of Secrets started. It wasn't until Ginny stopped talking to me and got all funny that I really began to clue back into reality. Things were going wrong in Hogwarts. People were getting hurt. Friends and families were being ripped apart—even before I knew Hermione, Ron, and Harry I could tell how much it hurt but I didn't know what to do to make it better. So I did what I could. I followed Ginny around, except at dinner when I would be in the library studying.
I found out, in fact, a great deal about Ginny, but not much to do with whatever was hurting her. It consumed me and I, therefore, consumed nothing. It was an odd occurrence of events that I thought nothing of until I passed out one day in potions class. I don't remember so much, just a strangled, "Luna!" from Ginny before I fell off my stool and a brief smattering of laughter as my head sounded a sharp crack on the floor, and I passed into darkness. Ginny told me later that she had seldom seen Professor Snape so concerned, that he immediately dismissed the class and scooped me up, rushing to the hospital wing. That I can hardly believe, though I must because I know that sometimes people who seem bad aren't really bad and even people who might be a little bad cannot resist an act of humanitarianism when it is necessary of them.
When I woke up I was, of course, in the hospital wing, in the bed closest to Madam Pomfrey's office. I couldn't see very far out of the bed because the curtains were pulled tight around it, but I knew Hermione would be a few beds down from me and the Clearwater girl that Percival liked ever so much. I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before I heard the muffled "click-clack-click-clack-click-clack" of Madam Pomfrey's low heels on the polished stone approaching my bed. I was eleven and had found this noise very funny ever since I was a little girl—like the claws of little dragon's scuttling back and forth across the floor, chasing each other and rolling about in a playful battle—so I giggled, and the curtain was ripped back.
And that's when I received the longest lecture of my life.
She pulled up a chair and began talking at me, pointing to a little bag suspended beside my bed and a pack of some sort attached neatly to my arm—and into it! I thought with mild surprise—and how I had to take care of myself if I was going to stay at school.
I nodded and said okay like I always do. Sometimes I think it's easier to do that and to think of something better, like the sky and the earth or a flower, than actually listen to the severity of things. Of course, I have since learned better, but I am much older and, I would like to think, much wiser now.
Three days letter, I was released from the hospital wing with a little plant Ginny Weasley had grown in herbology class to accompany me. Three days later, Ginny Weasley disappeared into the Chamber of Secrets and everybody forgot about Loony Lovegood's episode. And, unfortunately, so did I.