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Hogwarts is breathtaking in the first grey days of September. It's thrilling to run through the vast stone halls, to fly up the ever-changing staircases. The dormitory is cozy and itches in an indefinable way, like wearing a new wool sweater, but at least the people in it smile and act friendly. It's new and it's different, and it isn't until the end of September, Luna realises it feels wrong too.
Ey starts taking walks in the mornings, before anyone else is awake, and in the evenings, when most people are busy finishing up on homework or playing Exploding Snap with their friends. It feels better, but since ey can only venture a few steps into the straggly fringe of the Forbidden Forest, it's not enough. Even when Luna takes off eir shoes and wriggles eir toes in the lush dark grass, feeling pine needles crackle under eir heels, it's not enough.
"Where are you going?" one of eir dorm-mates asks one morning, tone more than a bit un-curious, but Luna only shrugs, tilting eir head to one side.
"Looking," ey says simply, gathering up eir shoes in one hand and balancing eir too-heavy bookbag in the other.
"For what?" the girl asks, turning back to her Charms book.
"Magic," Luna replies, but eir dorm-mate is lost in the chapter on Levitating Charms, and doesn't care anymore.
Professor Flitwick takes notice next, taking the blonde-haired first year into his office one Saturday afternoon. Delicate inquiries into the state of Luna's home life go nowhere, nor does Luna's determinedly blank expression when Professor Flitwick refers to em as a girl and asks how ey is "getting along with the other ladies."
"I'm not," ey snaps, grey eyes lighting with some internal fire. "Because I'm not a girl." And with that, ey is gone, out the door while Flitwick rubs his chin and decides not to take this matter any further. Doubtless she's just confused, he consoles himself and tries not to remember the defeated expression that washes over Luna's face at every mention of supposed femininity.
Luna spends more and more time on the grounds, soon taking to the overly warm confines of the castle only for curfew, lessons, and the occasional meal. Ey gets thinner, but it doesn't matter, not out in the sunlight and the chill coating the breeze. The leaves rustle comfortingly in the trees and sometimes ey thinks that ey can see the silvery gleam of a unicorn's coat, flicking through the dappled gleam of a clearing.
Eir dorm-mates complain to their Head of House that Luna wakes them up when ey tiptoes up to bed a few minutes before (or after) curfew, shoelaces tangled across eir knuckles. It's not true, but Flitwick gives em detention anyway. Ey serves it without complaint, writing two hundred lines about not disturbing eir fellow Housemates while eir eyes constantly stray outside, toward the Forest. At the end, Professor Flitwick calls em a good girl and ey nearly kicks him before remembering emself.
"I don't think so," Luna merely says, scornful, as ey walks past him, shoes unlaced and socks mismatched as always. It feels wrong to wear them, but the professors complain otherwise.
At the next staff meeting, Luna Lovegood is mentioned by no less than three professors. Flitwick for eir supposed misconduct in the dorm, McGonagall for eir continued daydreaming in class, and Snape for eir melting two cauldrons in a week.
"Although at least she's not Longbottom," he sneers, and McGonagall glares at him over the rim of her teacup.
It goes nowhere however. Luna brings eir blanket outside and makes a cozy nest for emself outside Greenhouse 5. Nobody notices until Professor Sprout accidentally disturbs em three nights later.
"It's all right, dear," Pomona reassures the owl-eyed first year. "I don't mind a bit. Filius says you've been having a bit of erm...difficulty with your dorm," she rambles.
"They don't like me," Luna says calmly. "But that's all right, because the feeling is mutual. Do you mind if I stay here?"
"I'd prefer you stay indoors, Miss Lovegood," Pomona prevaricates. "Inclement weather and all that-although I suppose there's nothing wrong with you staying in the greenhouse. No classes are held in this one. Just stay out of reach of any of the plants. Some have a tendency to wander."
"Thank you," Luna says, a genuine smile tipping the corners of eir mouth, and Professor Sprout finds herself smiling back.
It only works until the first flurries of snow darken the wintry sky, however, and it is with sinking heart Luna finds the winding steps to eir dorm again, properly. Everyone ignores em, though, and it's the way ey likes it. When curfew falls, ey curls up at the bottom of eir bed, curtains drawn and blankets stuffed round. Instead of the wind rattling the branches and the quiet snuffling of the multicoloured Kneazle that liked to curl up at Luna's feet, there is only high-pitched whispers and in-delicate snores. Luna doesn't sleep.
The next day, Luna wanders down to Professor Sprout's office, having learned outside Greenhouse 5 the woman was eminently more kind-hearted toward eir plight than eir own Head of House, and asks the plump Herbology professor if there's any precedent for being in your own dorm.
"I don't think so," Pomona answers after a moment of startled contemplation, tapping the end of her quill against her teeth. "Unless..."
"Yes?" Luna leans forward more than a tad eagerly, eir fingers white and clutching at the edge of Pomona's desk.
"Have you ever, erm, thought perhaps you weren't a girl or a boy?" Professor Sprout flounders, cheeks turning pink.
"I know I'm not," Luna replies, grey eyes calm. "I'm neither."
"Oh," Professor Sprout says blankly. "Right. Well, in that case, actually there is precedent. Hogwarts likes to be prepared in times of need."
The official title, displayed on a small bronze plaque outside the door, is Gender Non-Conforming Dorm, and it is perfect. Luna is the only one ensconced in its slightly cramped walls, but ey doesn't mind the quiet. There is an enormous window right by eir bed, and no chattering dorm-mates, telling em to shut the window or do this or that. It is not the forest, but as ey settles on the bed, bouncing a bit on the soft woolen covers, ey thinks it just might do after all.