The Unseen Battle
Healing was not a spell. It was not a potion that worked overnight. It was a battle—a quiet, unseen battle that Luna fought every day.
And sometimes, she wondered if anyone truly understood how exhausting it was.
--
After her collapse, Luna had been forced to see Madam Pomfrey regularly. At first, she had resisted, but after the second visit, she found herself lingering a little longer.
The school nurse was patient in a way that Luna hadn’t expected. She never pressured Luna to eat, never scolded her when she admitted to struggling. Instead, she would ask simple questions:
"What thoughts came up when you tried to eat today?"
"What felt different about today compared to yesterday?"
"What do you think your body needs right now?"
Luna didn’t always have answers, but it was the first time someone had asked the right questions.
One afternoon, as Luna sat on the hospital wing’s cot, Madam Pomfrey placed a small plate of biscuits beside her.
“You don’t have to eat them,” she said gently. “But you do have to ask yourself why you don’t want to.”
Luna stared at the plate.
Her fingers twitched at her sides.
She didn’t eat them that day.
But she thought about it.
And maybe that was a start.
--
Nobody had warned her about the anger.
There were days when she hated herself for struggling. For not being able to just eat like everyone else.
And there were days when she hated the world for making her feel this way in the first place.
She snapped at Ginny over nothing. She ignored Hermione’s worried glances. She even avoided Neville, despite knowing he wouldn’t judge her.
One evening, as she sat by the Black Lake, Hermione found her.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re fine, you know,” Hermione said, sitting beside her. “You’re allowed to be angry.”
Luna hugged her knees to her chest.
“I don’t want to be,” she admitted.
Hermione sighed. “I know. But it’s part of this.”
Luna swallowed. “I just want to feel normal again.”
Hermione looked at her, eyes soft. “Luna, you’ve always been normal. Just in your own way.”
Luna let the words settle in her chest.
Maybe healing wasn’t about becoming someone else.
Maybe it was about learning to be herself again.
--
Luna still avoided mirrors most days.
But one evening, she caught her reflection in the window of the Ravenclaw dormitory.
For a moment, she almost turned away.
But something in her stopped.
She studied herself. The hollowness in her cheeks was fading. Her skin, once dull, had more color. Her eyes still held their usual dreaminess, but there was something else now, too.
Something steadier.
She wasn’t healed.
She wasn’t fixed.
But she was here.
And for now, that was enough.