Loony •A Luna Lovegood Story•
written by Avery Vollen
Luna isn’t as we know her at all. She suffers from depression, but still tries to brighten up the world, even if it means darkening herself. A touching and heartfelt story about the real Luna Lovegood.
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
1
Reads
609
1: Grey is the new Pink
Chapter 1
Theme Song For This Chapter: Everything Has Changed. (Taylor Swift ft Ed Sheeran)
What is life? Why am I here today, at this very moment? Do I have a purpose in this world? I remember it dreadfully. The day she died. One spell went wrong, and her entire existence with it. I was nine when she died, and nine years have passed since then. I try to put up a cheerful front, but most think I’m strange. Running a hand through my silvery hair, I glance over to the picture of my mother on the bedside table, and burst into tears. My eyes travel to my friends faces carefully painted on the ceiling. ‘If only you could see me now.’ I thought. I get up out of bed, my face red from sobbing, and head to the washroom. I pull out a blue and silver muggle makeup bag, the contents inside being muggle makeup. I put on a full face, although I have no intention of leaving the house today. As I exit the washroom, I stop by my eventless calendar on the wall. I sigh, and walk past it, back onto my bed. I reach under my pillow, and feel something warm and fluffy. I pull out my stuffed teddy, and hug it tight. Many people my age would feel out of place having a stuffed toy, but I would be lost without it. Maybe the Wrackspurts are getting to me, but I don’t cry like I do this day on every year, rather the contrary. I stop my sobs, and smile. I smile, knowing that someday we will be reunited. Someday. I remember the day that my mother gave me the teddy. It’s faded. Both the teddy and my memory. I remember how she handed it to me, her eyes full of warmth, mine full of coldness. I was a different person back then. I was afraid of what I didn’t know, and took for granted what I did. If I had accepted her gift with gratitude, what would have happened? She would have been alive. One detail that Daddy always forgets to mention when talking about my mother, is I was the reason for her death. I don’t try to deny it. I accept it, knowing the truth. She invented new spells to impress me, to wow me. Me. That’s what caused it all. I’m what caused it all! She was a truly amazing witch, my mother. I never got to tell her how much I admired her. Looked up to her. Loved her. Memories of my mother are growing weaker, and weaker, and Daddy doesn’t make enough to afford a Pensieve. I hope that I can save up enough, before all the memories of my mother drift away into eternity. Forever. What is carved in Stone, though, is the last memory I had featuring my mother. I do, distinctly remember, being happy before the tragic moment. Her last spell she cast was truly breathtaking, like fireworks through my veins. Like a muggle Etch-A-Sketch, a smile was drawn on my face, almost magnetically. That smile faded faster than a blink of an eye when the same spell led to her death. I was glad to think, though, that not all of my personality was fake. I know that I have a Cheering Charm inside me, struggling to get out. Sometimes I had trouble actually being truly happy, for most of the time I just feel like I’m alone. I finally understood what Professor Trelawney had been saying about auras, and I felt that mine was dark, black, and lightless. Sometimes I feel like my soul is bright and bubbly, and sometimes I feel that I have none at all. I feel like the weather is mocking me, being so bright, and blue and sunny. As soon as that thought perishes, so does the nice weather, the sky becoming cloudy and gloomy. At least for me. I took a deep breath, walked outside with my teddy in my hands, and sit in the field of wildflowers not far away from our oddly shaped little house. As I gaze at the flowers, they turn to various shades of blacks and greys. ‘So these are the two sides of Luna Lovegood.’ I thought, ‘And I’m not sure that either are the real me, but maybe a mixture of both.’ I finish, and with that thought, I start picking the now grey flowers, and some turn back to their original purples and magentas. As I blink my eyes, grey again. I weaved teddy a flower grey and black flower crown, and placed it on his head. Once I did, I beamed. Truly beamed. For the first time in a while. “You look very nice today, teddy.” , I bend down and whisper in his ear, even though he cannot hear me. I know I’m doing what kids at school called me ‘Loony’ for, but I couldn’t care less. Of course, you know what they say, ‘Old habits die hard.’. I ran into Draco last week, at Diagon Alley. He called me Loony again, but who cares what he thinks? I hear a swoosh, and a bang, and footsteps muffled by the grass on the way here, but I do not turn. Instead I just act like I cannot hear a thing, until I hear my dad’s voice humming. I am surprised it is him, but who else could it be? I, myself, didn’t even know who I was expecting to show up behind me. “Colorful flowers.” He states. I hum as a response, in my mind wondering if other people saw them as grey, or was it just me? I acted like I was oblivious to his both odd and unnecessary comment. “I dug up some more evidence of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!” He exclaims rather excitedly. His excitement seems to be contagious, and I catch it. “Really?”, I say, peppy and brighter than before. He nods and motions for me to sit down, even though I am already seated. “Come in, in, in!” He says, although he just told me to sit. He’s a little weird, but I love him. “A charming young man knows wonders about them!” He exclaims again. I gulp as I see the face. Neville. We haven’t spoken for years except an occasional holiday card. He visibly gulped too, and at this point you could just cut the tension in the room with a knife. Daddy didn’t notice the obvious awkwardness, his mouth opening to speak. Before he could get any words out, I open mine and say, “Neville, may I speak to you?”, louder than I would’ve liked it to come out. He gulped once again, and nodded. He silently followed me up the stairs. I lead him to our upstairs loft, and clear my throat. “So, what brings you here?” I ask cluelessly. Neville turns a slight shade of pink. He swallows air. “ImgettingmarriedtoHannahAbbott.” I hear.
THIS CHAPTER HAD 1,161 WORDS
A/N (INPORTANT!!) Please read and review for a shoutout!! Tell me what you think of this storyline so far, and add it to your bookshelf and check for updates often!
What is life? Why am I here today, at this very moment? Do I have a purpose in this world? I remember it dreadfully. The day she died. One spell went wrong, and her entire existence with it. I was nine when she died, and nine years have passed since then. I try to put up a cheerful front, but most think I’m strange. Running a hand through my silvery hair, I glance over to the picture of my mother on the bedside table, and burst into tears. My eyes travel to my friends faces carefully painted on the ceiling. ‘If only you could see me now.’ I thought. I get up out of bed, my face red from sobbing, and head to the washroom. I pull out a blue and silver muggle makeup bag, the contents inside being muggle makeup. I put on a full face, although I have no intention of leaving the house today. As I exit the washroom, I stop by my eventless calendar on the wall. I sigh, and walk past it, back onto my bed. I reach under my pillow, and feel something warm and fluffy. I pull out my stuffed teddy, and hug it tight. Many people my age would feel out of place having a stuffed toy, but I would be lost without it. Maybe the Wrackspurts are getting to me, but I don’t cry like I do this day on every year, rather the contrary. I stop my sobs, and smile. I smile, knowing that someday we will be reunited. Someday. I remember the day that my mother gave me the teddy. It’s faded. Both the teddy and my memory. I remember how she handed it to me, her eyes full of warmth, mine full of coldness. I was a different person back then. I was afraid of what I didn’t know, and took for granted what I did. If I had accepted her gift with gratitude, what would have happened? She would have been alive. One detail that Daddy always forgets to mention when talking about my mother, is I was the reason for her death. I don’t try to deny it. I accept it, knowing the truth. She invented new spells to impress me, to wow me. Me. That’s what caused it all. I’m what caused it all! She was a truly amazing witch, my mother. I never got to tell her how much I admired her. Looked up to her. Loved her. Memories of my mother are growing weaker, and weaker, and Daddy doesn’t make enough to afford a Pensieve. I hope that I can save up enough, before all the memories of my mother drift away into eternity. Forever. What is carved in Stone, though, is the last memory I had featuring my mother. I do, distinctly remember, being happy before the tragic moment. Her last spell she cast was truly breathtaking, like fireworks through my veins. Like a muggle Etch-A-Sketch, a smile was drawn on my face, almost magnetically. That smile faded faster than a blink of an eye when the same spell led to her death. I was glad to think, though, that not all of my personality was fake. I know that I have a Cheering Charm inside me, struggling to get out. Sometimes I had trouble actually being truly happy, for most of the time I just feel like I’m alone. I finally understood what Professor Trelawney had been saying about auras, and I felt that mine was dark, black, and lightless. Sometimes I feel like my soul is bright and bubbly, and sometimes I feel that I have none at all. I feel like the weather is mocking me, being so bright, and blue and sunny. As soon as that thought perishes, so does the nice weather, the sky becoming cloudy and gloomy. At least for me. I took a deep breath, walked outside with my teddy in my hands, and sit in the field of wildflowers not far away from our oddly shaped little house. As I gaze at the flowers, they turn to various shades of blacks and greys. ‘So these are the two sides of Luna Lovegood.’ I thought, ‘And I’m not sure that either are the real me, but maybe a mixture of both.’ I finish, and with that thought, I start picking the now grey flowers, and some turn back to their original purples and magentas. As I blink my eyes, grey again. I weaved teddy a flower grey and black flower crown, and placed it on his head. Once I did, I beamed. Truly beamed. For the first time in a while. “You look very nice today, teddy.” , I bend down and whisper in his ear, even though he cannot hear me. I know I’m doing what kids at school called me ‘Loony’ for, but I couldn’t care less. Of course, you know what they say, ‘Old habits die hard.’. I ran into Draco last week, at Diagon Alley. He called me Loony again, but who cares what he thinks? I hear a swoosh, and a bang, and footsteps muffled by the grass on the way here, but I do not turn. Instead I just act like I cannot hear a thing, until I hear my dad’s voice humming. I am surprised it is him, but who else could it be? I, myself, didn’t even know who I was expecting to show up behind me. “Colorful flowers.” He states. I hum as a response, in my mind wondering if other people saw them as grey, or was it just me? I acted like I was oblivious to his both odd and unnecessary comment. “I dug up some more evidence of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!” He exclaims rather excitedly. His excitement seems to be contagious, and I catch it. “Really?”, I say, peppy and brighter than before. He nods and motions for me to sit down, even though I am already seated. “Come in, in, in!” He says, although he just told me to sit. He’s a little weird, but I love him. “A charming young man knows wonders about them!” He exclaims again. I gulp as I see the face. Neville. We haven’t spoken for years except an occasional holiday card. He visibly gulped too, and at this point you could just cut the tension in the room with a knife. Daddy didn’t notice the obvious awkwardness, his mouth opening to speak. Before he could get any words out, I open mine and say, “Neville, may I speak to you?”, louder than I would’ve liked it to come out. He gulped once again, and nodded. He silently followed me up the stairs. I lead him to our upstairs loft, and clear my throat. “So, what brings you here?” I ask cluelessly. Neville turns a slight shade of pink. He swallows air. “ImgettingmarriedtoHannahAbbott.” I hear.
THIS CHAPTER HAD 1,161 WORDS
A/N (INPORTANT!!) Please read and review for a shoutout!! Tell me what you think of this storyline so far, and add it to your bookshelf and check for updates often!
