Spero

Chapter 3: Don't Kid Yourself

Last time Idon't know if this will work, but I hope it will. Is it really too much to ask for? Or is my hope that Harry will kill Voldemort and everything will be alright too much? Then maybe I'll get to walk with Draco in Hogsmeade holding hands. I can see it, I just don't know if it will happen.

Is it the desperate need for unconditional love? Yes, most definitely. And not just on his part.

Draco Malfoy is so rude. I just so happen on him and some girl in the corridor. Clinging to her tightly, he tells me rudely, "What?" I give him my most beatific smile and go off quickly. I wasn't spying, I just happened upon them. What is he doing in the west wing anyway? I don't even think that girl was a Ravenclaw, so it just doesn't make any sense whatsoever.

Telling the drapery the password, Jobberknoll, I am allowed entrance into Ravenclaw tower. Instead of staying in the common room I head to the girls lavatory. It's here in the corner that there's a loose tile. Behind it is the entrance to a tunnel that leads to the owlery.

It's nice here with the owls. There's nothing like animal friends. They really understand you. They don't judge. Not like people. I hear them, look there goes loony Luna Lovegood. I'm odd, strange, crazy, flaming mad, amongst a slew of other things.

No, I'm none of those things. I am a free spirit. I think Hermione said it best, I do follow the beat of a different drummer. Quite frankly I'm the one banging the drum! Who's to say what's normal anyway? Without my unique idiosyncrasies, who would I be? Where would I be? I can say proudly that no one else will ever be like me.

It's cold here, the wind swirls around my feet, and I look at the stone floor for a while. Just watching the dirt, the sticks and the leaves the wind picks up and blows around. They get caught in cross winds and a little cyclone swirls at my feet.

Moments like these I like the most. People are alright – sometimes. I could sit alone for hours. Thinking, discovering, talking to the owls or whatever other creature crosses my path. I don't know why more people don't do it.

An owl, Millburry, comes to chat. He's Pansy Parkinson's owl. Funny how I can get along with him, but she would probably never give me the time of day. These are the things I think about. How insecure I feel at times. I'm not so different, even though everyone thinks I am. I'm not mysterious. Nobody is as mysterious as they think they are.

Often I feel as though people are sleeping through life, never seeing everything. I wish they'd wake up and join me. Or not join me; I like having my own world. Having people pass through it sometimes. It's better that way.

I stay in the owlery as long as possible. It is deathly cold outside. I'm not wearing the proper attire to be out this late at night. Especially in this weather. Halloween nights are generally cold; I'm not sure why I didn't bother to take bring my scarf and cloak. So, saying goodbye to my fine feathered friends, I go back inside.

In Ravenclaw tower I can not for the life of me find my mug. I usually leave it on my bedstand. Sometimes it can be found downstairs in the common room, on the window sill, on the fireplace mantle, on a table, and once I found it between the cushions of the couch. I don't know where it could be now.

Terry Boot is sleeping in a chair. I wave my hand back and forth in front of his face just to make sure. He's out cold. I reach for the parchment and quill on the table in front of him. Looks as if he was finishing up a Potions essay. Borrowing a blank piece I write out in my familiar bubble lettering:

Will whoever keeps taking my mug STOP IT. It is very annoying.

Have a little respect for other people's property.

Luna

I post it on the billboard amongst the other announcements. It's right next to the announcement that a wand had been lost, which covered the announcement from the week earlier about a wand that had been found. Next to that the Quidditch team's practice schedule was posted. Above that was a notice that the Arithmacy Club's next meeting was moved to Thursday.

I don't bother to read any of the other postings. I know that I would be disappointed to again read that there was no one who wanted to be on the school newspaper. I have gone to Professor Flitwick asking about a newspaper. Or even a flyer, something. He said yes, if I could find anyone who wanted to do it. So far, all I've got is Colin Creevey to take pictures. But what do I do with all these pictures and no stories?

I drag myself upstairs trying not to think about the disappointment floating around in my stomach. I feel a little nauseous as I drift off to sleep. Right in the pit of my kidney, my left one to be specific.

In Transfiguration I sit with Ginny. I listen as she tells me about the dream she had last night about Dean. It's a little too steamy for me, I blush at the details. An excellent idea pops into my head. Maybe I can't have a whole newspaper, but I could have a flyer if I got a few people.

"Ginny," I tread on waters unknown.

"Yes, Luna?" Ginny says.

"As you know, I'm head of the newspaper."

"You are?"

"Yes, I am."

"Oh, well that's nice. How's that going?"

"Well," pausing I readjust my glasses, that I don't actually have, but like to think I have because it adds a dignified air about me. "Nowhere really," she starts to say she's sorry, "but, I have a really spectacular idea."

"I'm sure," Ginny says.

"Why don't you write a column?"

"About?' she says unsure.

"About, oh I don't know, gossip? Anything really. Ginny, do you know anyone who would write for me?"

"I don't know," she tells me, then adds "I can always ask around though."

A reassuring smile makes me feel like my hope isn't going to waste. I hope for a lot of things, and sometimes I do know they may be far-fetched, but I wouldn't hope unless I knew there was a chance. Miracles can happen. I've seen them.

"Miss Lovegood," Professor McGonnagal grabs my attention. "How would one transfigure the teacup I see before me into a living breathing thing such as a – " She searches for an example.

"A Grapbeak?" I offer.

"You mean a Graphorn, Miss Lovegood."

"No, Professor, a lot of people think that," I explain, "A Grapbeak is the cousin of a Graphorn, but not to be mistaken for one. Rather than two horns it has two beaks. It's an extremely interesting creature."

She peers at me over her glasses, "Erm, yes I'm sure it is, Miss Lovegood. Back to my question. How would one transfigure this teacup into a Grap – "

"– beak," I finish her sentence. She looks at me with pursed lips for a moment.

"Yes, a Grapbeak." Her hands are clasped in that way she always has them as she waits for my answer. I scratch my nose, which I like to think of as a stentorian nose, even though stentorian is actually a tone of voice, and squint.

"Miss Lovegood?" Professor McGonagall calls me out of my thoughts.

"Yes?" I ask.

"The teacup?" She motions to it.

"Well you see, Professor, I'm not quite sure. I know how you would turn a teapot into a Grapbeak, it makes total and complete sense, what with the spout and such. It would of course have to be one of those special double spouted teapots," I comment.

"Oh, Miss Lovegood," she sighs, in that way she always does with me. I hear Ginny snort as she tries to hold in the laughter, and I turn, giving her a smile. Professor McGonagall has moved on, as usual, "Creevey! How would you turn this teacup into an – animal?"

After being assigned a lengthy paper from Professor McGonagall due the next day, I decide that skipping lunch is my best option if I ever wanted want to finish the paper. After grabbing some extra parchment and quills from my room I head to the library. Here, in amongst the shelves, I search for a book on the Transfiguration of non-living things to living things. I am soon distracted by the numerous books about creatures. Care of Magical Creatures is easily my favorite class. I've often spent hours sitting and reading about creatures. Small ones, big ones, round ones, ones that can't talk, or walk or see. I know them all. Maybe not all, but a great deal of them.

I see Hermione come in – I want to call out hello but I notice Madame Pince only a few metres away. Thin and wiry, she hovers, waiting to hush me. I often marvel at how much she resembles a Toosoan, with her large nose and strangely skinny frame. As she passes me she gives me a look of great disapproval. At the end of the row of books she stops and turns. "Ms Lovegood, you will remember to treat my books with respect and pick them up off the floor, won't you?"

"Yes Madame Pince," I mumble and start to gather the books from around me.

At my own table in the library I sit alone chewing on the inside of my cheek, staring wide-eyed at the mess I've made. Crumpled up parchment, because I made too many mistakes. That's all that's left from me wracking my brains. And now I'm scared to death it was all one big fluke. Did I ever write anything that was actually good?

It shouldn't be this hard. Another page is ripped out, groaned at and destroyed. It's a paper for Transfiguration of all things. But it got a person thinking: Come on! write something good! I'm getting upset doing something I once enjoyed. This is it, this bloody Transfiguration paper! This marks the end. My inspiration has run dry. I can't do it anymore. No words come out. I'm not even sure why.

Amongst the crumpled balls of my Transfiguration paper is the notice I put up. The one about the newspaper.

Who would want to write a newspaper with bloody barmy Loony Lovegood!? Don't kid yourself.

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I just wanted to say thank you for all the reviews I have gotten. I'm really happy that people enjoyed the first chapter so much! I was hoping it would be something a little different from what people were used to seeing :)