The hall is long, busy and crammed with people. It seems as if they’re all going one way, and Luna is going another.

She is pushed and shoved, ignored and laughed at. Her face is buried in The Quibbler, however, so she can’t see where she is going.

“Hey, Loony! Watch where you’re going!�

Luna looks up, dazed, for the article she is reading on Wrackspurts is incredibly interesting. It seems someone has successfully found one in South America. They are not imaginary anymore.

Look there she goes, that girl is so peculiar.
I wonder if she's feeling well.
With a dreamy, far-off look
And her nose stuck in a book.
What a puzzle to the rest of us.

She walks, she strides, she loiters in the corridor. She tries not to think about it, but it’s there – always there – in her mind. The anniversary –

She bursts into tears.

“Oh, look! Loony’s crying! What’s it about, Loony? Are the Gigglebacks going extinct?�

She looks at the Gryffindor boy. He is shorter than her, which she thinks is funny.

“Actually, there is no creature called a Giggleback,� Luna informs the boy, wiping away her tears.

The boy laughs out loud. “Really? I had no idea.� He nudges his friends. “Let’s leave Loony to her research,� he says mockingly.

They leave, and Luna sits on a windowsill, thinking and staring at the frost-covered window. The anniversary, she thinks. It’s here, it’s today, and I’m sitting on a windowsill, doing nothing.

She feels the tears behind her eyes, burning them, screaming to be let out. Against her will they fall, leaving a wet trail of transparency behind. She sighs, wiping the tears away and licking her fingers, tasting the salt and smiling wryly. The tears continue to fall until she leans forward, surrendering. Luna watches the product of her unhappiness stain her skirt as she listens to the clip-clop of shoes around her.

Now it's no wonder that her name means "Beauty"
Her looks have got no parallel!
But behind that fair façade
I'm afraid she's rather odd.
Very diff'rent from the rest of us,
She's nothing like the rest of us,
Yes, diff'rent from the rest of us.


“Hey,� she hears a voice say. It is deep, slightly arrogant, and something else she can’t put her finger on. She turns the voice around in her head, listening to it, until she looks up to see who it belongs to.

It is a Slytherin boy, she can tell from his green tie. He has brown hair and a muscular face with shining brown eyes. He crouches down next to Luna so his face is across from hers. She still sits on the windowsill.

“What’s wrong?� he asks, extending his hand kindly.

Luna looks at his hand. It, too, is muscular. She wonders how hands can be muscular. “I was just thinking about something,� she says.

“Ah, yes,� he replies, nodding. “Usually, we cry when we think about something.�

“It is a very special something,� Luna says, squeezing her eyelashes to wipe the tears away.

“What is it?�

Luna looks at him, from his face to his thick arms. She can’t beat him up like the Gryffindor boy, but then again she doesn’t really want to. She looks straight at his eyes. “Today is the anniversary of my mother’s death.�

The boy tilts his head and looks at her. He takes her hand. “I’m sorry about that,� he says, intertwining her fingers with his. “Do you want to talk about it or anything?�

“No,� says Luna, looking at their hands. It’s strange, for hers is pale and slender and his is darker and thick. “I don’t.�

“That’s okay,� the Slytherin comforts. “Some people like to talk about what’s bothering them, and some people don’t.�

Luna nods, moving her head to stare out the window. Some of the frost has melted away from the heat of her face pressing against it. She sees some students walking around in the snow in scarves and hats; they are in a hurry to get inside. She marvels at why they ignore the beauty of winter, with pure white falling from the sky and the insulating wonder of the packed snow.

“Do you want to go outside?� she asks, smiling at the boy.

“Outside?� he asks, looking surprised. “Why?�

“It’s winter,� Luna says, as if the answer is obvious. “There’s snow outside.�

“Do you like the snow?� he asks, standing up. He helps her stand up.

“I love it,� she announces happily. She feels tears behind her eyes again but she doesn’t know why.

“That’s great,� he says, grasping her hand again. “Should we get our coats first?�

Luna thinks about it. “No,� she decides.

“I like your thinking,� the boy declares. He starts to walk to the Entrance Hall and Luna follows him.

Look there she goes
The girl is strange but special.
A most peculiar mad'moiselle!
It's a pity and a sin
She doesn't quite fit in.
'Cause she really is a funny girl
A beauty but a funny girl
She really is a funny girl –

“Excuse me?�

The voice sends chills down Luna’s spine. It is like a serpent sneaking up on two rabbits, like a wintry blast of air on a warm day. She squeezes her eyes shut as if it will make the intruding voice go away, away, away –

“Crabbe, what are you doing?� the voice continues.

The owner of the voice, the evil, intruding serpent, walks directly in front of Luna and the Slytherin boy and stops them. His blonde hair shines and his grey eyes are cold as ice.

“Crabbe,� he says callously, “Would you mind explaining to me why I couldn’t find you for the past hour and what you are doing right now?�

The brown-haired boy drops Luna’s hand instantly. “I – I don’t know,� he says stupidly.

“Is that your name?� Luna asks him. “Crabbe?�

“Shut up,� the blonde boy snaps. Luna looks up at him, shocked and offended, but smart enough not to respond and make more trouble. “What are you doing with her, Crabbe?�

“N-nothing,� Crabbe says, shuffling his feet. Luna thinks she sees a glint of pity in his eyes.

“It had better be something,� the blonde says angrily. “Or are you telling me you disappeared for nothing? I was looking for you.�

“I’m sorry,� Crabbe mutters.

“Not even an excuse?� the blonde jeers.

“She held me up,� Crabbe says, jerking his head towards Luna and stuffing those same muscular hands in his pockets. “She was asking me about some crazy animal.�

The blonde boy raises an eyebrow and glances at Luna with a look of superiority on his face. “Fine, then. Let’s go to the common room.�

Crabbe leaves, following the blonde boy out of the corridor.

“Bye!� Luna calls.

He doesn’t respond or even wave. He just walks further away, away, away – and out the door.

Luna hugs The Quibbler to her chest, angry at both boys and more than sad about one. Why does he do everything the blonde says?

She walks down the corridor, looking around as if searching for an answer. She bumps accidentally into the wall, hears laughter echoing throughout, and stumbles back.

Look there she goes that girl is strange, no question.
Dazed and distracted, can't you tell?
Never part of any crowd
'Cause her head's up on some cloud.
No denying she's a funny girl.

She walks out of the corridor and into the Entrance Hall, her steps growing faster and faster with each one. She throws open the doors and hears the crunch of snow beneath her shoe. Her dirty-blonde hair flies back, for the wind is blowing against her, and she walks to her favourite place by the lake.

The lake is completely frozen, its surface a glassy mirror. Luna looks in it and sees her tear-streaked face. One hand reaches up to it and quickly falls back down, landing on the freezing ice. Luna steps cautiously onto it, balancing herself. She drops The Quibbler down and stares up at the white sky.

“Mum,� she says for the first time in years. “Mum, look at the lake. Isn’t it beautiful? It’s like a mirror. I can see my reflection in it. Do you like my reflection? I like it usually, but today it seems a little sad.�

The clouds move quickly across the sky as if they are running away from her, as if they don’t want to hear what she’s saying, but new ones take their place.

“Mum,� she says again, “I miss you.� Tears well up in her eyes and something blocks her throat. She feels like she can’t breathe – can a person die from tears? “You died today.�

It’s as if the wind can understand her words – it wails high and loud and seems to surround her in a frozen hug. “You die every day,� Luna says.

She doesn’t cry anymore. There is ice below her and freezing air above. She is the warm spot in the middle of the cold, but she feels herself turning colder still; she crumples slowly, inching down towards the ice until she finds herself lying on the frosty mirror.

She curls up, little by little, until she is shaped like a small child going to sleep. Her hat nearly covers her eyes. “I love you,� she breathes.

Very diff’rent from the rest of us
She’s nothing like the rest of us
Yes, diff’rent from the rest of us –

Luna.