Chapter Text
Luna Lovegood always knew she was different from the people around her. Not in the stereotypical way, but in the way that made her just a little bit more self-aware and careful.
She knew for example she was at times, a little too blunt with people, she tried her best to be kind, but pretence was ridiculous. And in more recent years, her friends had told her to just be herself, so she had finally told them, why she thought she was different. Hermione had even helped her in finding someone to diagnose her officially, since she knew deep down that's what she wanted, and since Hermione knew the right muggle procedures to get such a thing.
Luna did know about autism a bit before her own diagnosis, she had once read that Newt Scamander was autistic, that was years before she met him though, and she had only once seriously considered she might be too, but then her mother died, and things went awfully too chaotic for her to think about that. She had found Thestrals, and all of the other distractions, which were far more comforting than the words of a piece of paper giving her a label.
She also knew, that people thought she was odd. The truth in the matter was though, that she didn't care. Especially now. She was good at a lot of things, and one of them was being different, and she truly believed that was now the best way to be. Stimming was great- why on Earth had she ever tried to not do it in front of people? Though, maybe she had, her butterbeer cork necklace was the perfect stimming toy, she could fumble with it, and chew it. She did whilst at Hogwarts. People barely noticed her doing it too. But now, she didn't care if people did notice, that is what was important.
Meltdowns were trickier- a lot trickier- her first whilst at Hogwarts had been in front of the best person possible though, Rubeus Hagrid, and though she didn't think he was the best teacher for the Care of Magical Creatures, she knew deep down he was kind- a gentle giant. He had given her tea and promised not to tell anyone until she was ready. He had kept that promise. And she was grateful.
Making friends though, although it took a while, had been much easier than she had expected. She always had great difficulty understanding social cues and expectations, but her friends taught her that such conventions don't matter at all.
She had laughed a great deal, much to everyone's confusion, when the sorting hat first proclaimed "Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind"- for it was not in Wise Old Ravenclaw she found her friends. It was in the depths of people's hearts she found her friends, not in their minds, there was Harry, Hermione, Ginny- and even Ron- and of course Neville- who's hearts roared with the fires of courage and bravery- there was Rolf and Newt who were as loyal as Helga Hufflepuff herself. Yet all of her friends- mostly anyway, would have done just as well in the other houses.
It seemed in some ways, Hogwarts was not a place of unity. Students, separated by what? Talent? Surely not? Hermione's mind screamed Ravenclaw,- Harry would have done just as well in Slytherin.
Luna was sure she would have been as brave as any Gryffindor too- as loyal as any Hufflepuff like her husband and father in law, as cunning as any Slytherin- yet she loved the blue scarf that still accompanied her on every exploration trip. She did not regret being sorted into Ravenclaw. But she was also slowly considering that the logic of dividing students from a young age was slightly flawed.
And these little moment of ponders would come into her mind at the most random of times. That was another thing she enjoyed. Was that an autistic trait she wondered?
The way her mind just danced around, leaping from subject to subject all the time. All she knew was that it wasn't a bad thing.
Maybe that's why she was indeed in Ravenclaw as a teenager? Her analysis? Her wisdom? Her natural ability to think about everything and anything in great detail?
For even now, as she hid in a bush with a pair of binoculars, watching a Niffler which she hoped to gift to her grandfather-in-law, she was not thinking about how she was going to approach it, but was busy occupied with Hogwarts, her friends, her recent autism diagnosis.
It had been twenty years since that battle, and still every now and then- she wondered about all that had happened, and what had happened since.
She had never found people of her own "kind" at school- she was sure there must have been other autistic students at Hogwarts- though usually only muggleborns were ever diagnosed officially of course.
Maybe Neville... yes, now she thought about it- he stimmed- he info-dumped about plants. And of course he had always defended her differences. Because a lot of them... she realised... he had too.
Her obsession was Thestrals, Thunderbirds, and Hippogriffs, Neville's was Gillyweed, Bowtruckles, and Wiggentrees. They had spent so many times info-dumping to each-other on the Hogwarts Express in their last years at school. And then there was Newt Scamander of course, who as much as she loved her husband Rolf, knew far more about magizoology. They regularly info-dumped about all of the creatures they had studied, and she now had a signed version of every single edition of Fantastic beasts and Where To Find Them.
Including their co-written version, updated with all of her own discoveries. She just wished she had found more proof about the existence of Nargles- still, people were satisfied for now, even Hagrid, with the permission of Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, had started looking at the possibility of teaching students about them. All was for good now.
And even though, deep down, she still preferred her solitude, to relax, to recharge, to get away from the risk of too much noise, and not enough space.
She that knew when she went home in a few days time, there would be a sensory room waiting for her, one that would not exist without her great friends. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Harry, all once spent a weekend after the war creating a sensory room at Luna’s new house as a surprise for her, it has the mural of all of them together on the ceiling with the word “friends” in gold just like she had in her bedroom at The Rookery. They even had the picture of her and her mother hugging re-framed.
Admittedly, she had cried in joy more than she wanted to, and happy flapped so much Hermione had made a dry joke about her taking off like a bird, but she would not exchange those good friends of hers for all of the gold in Gringotts.
She loved her friends. She loved being one of the best magizoologists in the country. And she loved being autistic.
And for now, maybe that was all that mattered to her.