The Same, Only Different

It was, really, just the same. Except it wasn't.

Because this year someone would care if she came back. Actually, more than just someone.

There had always been someone to notice, of course, but not to care. No one to say, "Why, Luna's gone! That's a shame!" and go cry their eyes out all evening because she was gone somewhere unknown. Now someone would do that--maybe not cry, but ask about her and worry. Maybe write her a letter. She'd gotten several already over the summer.

So it was different this year. She was excited.

But it was still the same.

Someone would still call her "Loony" on the train; someone would still tease her and bewitch her bags to fly away from her when she tried to unpack; someone would still put sour grapejuice in her goblet instead of pumpkin juice. Nothing would change that.

But that wasn't important, now, was it? It never had been. And maybe friends hadn't been that important for a while either. She'd got on. At home, with her father, always busy, always thinking outside the box. At school, with hundreds of children, still always busy, but this time they thought inside the box. Luna daydreamed about what this box actually looked like. Pandora's Box, she thought of it--the two-faced box. The box that holds in the evil thoughts, so that's one face, the good face. But also the box that holds in hope, that holds in dreams, that holds in the wings that imagination can give--the bad face. Luna always thought outside the box.

"Hey, Luna!"

"Hi, Luna."

"Hiya, Luna!"

She smiled dreamily and picked up her bags to load them on the train.

"Hey, Luna," panted an out-of-breath voice beside her. She turned to see a round-faced boy her age, his arms full of plant, toad, and luggage.

"Hullo, Neville."

"Wanna sit with me on the train?"

"Yes."

She didn't have to say anything else. If she was that kind of girl, she would be doing somersaults in her head, cartwheels of joy that someone actually wanted to sit with her on the train--that anyone wanted to sit with Loony Luna. But she wasn't that kind of girl. "Yes," was a good enough answer, and just being there was good enough for her. Cartwheels were below her level. She was soaring in the stars already; this only helped her reach a bit higher.

They sat and talked on the train. Sometimes Luna read. Sometimes Neville napped. They got off together, walked to the great hall, said good-bye, went to their separate tables.

"Hey, Luna!"

"Here, Luna, you can sit here."

Luna sat down. "Thank you."

Feast over, up to the dormitory, unpack, undress, put on pyjamas, crawl into bed. Luna snuggled under her covers. She was almost asleep before she remembered. No one had called her "Loony". No one had bewitched her luggage. No one had switched her pumpkin juice. She frowned sleepily.

"Good night, Loony," she murmured to herself. She smiled and drifted off to sleep.

Some things, she thought later, should be different. Different is good--like thinking outside of the box. And things have been becoming different so fast and so furious... Different is good. Really good. Right now, however, she's not used to that. Right now, she needs some things to stay the same.