PLEASE READ THIS IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE!
Ok, well this is my first story, it's a OneShot, so it's not too long...I hope you like it! It's sort of lame, I know! Can you guys please review after so I can know how to improve my stories? Thanks!!
-Becca
By the way, this story sort of changes from Luna's point of view kind of thingy not really her point of view, but when you read it you'll get what I mean to Harry point of view rather quickly. Sorry about that!
A girl with blood streaked blond hair and large blue eyes stood in the middle of the deserted corridor, gasping for breath. Everything she had once loved about this place lay in ruins. The statues of a winged boar lay crumpled sadly on the cold stone floor. Blood dotted the cool granite walls. Portraits that once hung on the walls all around were either gone, destroyed, or on the floor, facing down. Their occupants were crying, or otherwise unconscious from the fall to the ground. Half the ceiling was caved inward; a spell had caused a large explosions, killing and wounding many from both sides, good and bad.
Luna felt a single tear streaming down her dirt smeared cheek. She wiped it away, feeling foolish. It was over. There was nothing she could do now. Those who were dead were dead. They would be gone forever. She thought of Ginny and Ron. Ron had always teased her a bit, but she really enjoyed his company, and thought he was really nice at times. Ginny was one of her closest friends. Luna had heard that Ginny was currently in the hospital wing, as were so many others. Madam Pomfrey did not yet know if Ginny would survive through the wounds she had sustained during the battle, which had taken place only three hours before Luna had come to stand in this very spot.
"Luna?" she heard a raspy voice call. She spun around. Harry stood there, battle scarred and wounded. His eyes looked sunken and he was deathly pale.
"Hello, Harry." She said softly, her faraway voice echoing unnervingly on the cold stone walls. "How are you?" she asked vaguely.
He shrugged. "I'm missing Ron." He said, his voice breaking. Harry was so weak and more tired than he had ever been in his life; however, he did not wish to sleep because dreaming would only cause him to relive what he wanted so much to forget.
"Me too. How's Hermione doing?" she asked, looking back to the rubble on the ground. She raised her wand to it; some of the stone bricks that used to belong in the wall flew back into it. Some of the dirt and blood disappeared.
Harry shrugged again. "She'll be all right. She tough." He said softly, not wanting his voice to break again. He hadn't yet been to the hospital wing. He wanted time alone now, although he did not mind being with Luna at this moment. She could sympathyze with his losses. After all, she had been friends with Ron, too. He watched as she raised her shaky wand again and continued to cause the portraits to whiz back onto the hooks on the walls. He felt an untracable pang of annoyance. "Why are you cleaning this up?" he asked intolerantly. He felt very hopeless and alone now that Ron was gone. He decided not to allow himself to think about Ron. He was his best friend, his first friend he had ever had. Harry choked back more tears and waited impatiently for Luna to answer.
"Because if I don't, I'll have to think about my friends who died, and that's not something I want to do." She explained honestly. Harry nodded, wishing he never asked. He hated, now, at this point in time, how Luna always spoke the truth. He stared at the floor, without seeing it now, as Luna continued to clean up the mess. "I think Ronald died rather bravely." She noted. She glanced at Harry.
Harry threw her a menacing stare. "He was killed." He retorted angrily, shaking with anger.
"I know," she said, "but he fought with us until the very end." She said solemnly, looking at him now.
Harry used every bit of self control he had not to whip out his wand and jinx her right then and there. His nostrils flared. "So did loads of other people!" he screamed at her. Luna didn't flinch away at his screaming. She merely blinked. "And they didn't die!!"
"But it's over now, Harry. These things will stop happening now." She said softly, trying to reason with him.
"Are you trying to say that Ron dying was good?" he yelled, his nostril flaring again. He wanted to stomp his feet and tantrum like a four-year-old child being refused dessert. He knew, though, that yelling and crying wouldn't bring back Ron or any of his other friends. Nor did it bring back Dumbledore, or his parents, for that matter.
"Of course not." She said calmly. "But it's not like he died on the sidelines. This is how he would've wanted to go." She said placidly. This triggered something in his memory…Professor Lupin had said this was how Sirius would've wanted to go…Lupin had said Sirius would've wanted to have died in combat…He wanted to hit something. Why didn't anyone understand the agony he was going through? He had lost so many people in his life…His Mother, his Father, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Professor Snape (who, it turns out, was in love with his Mother), and now Ron…
"Ron didn't want to go!!" he said angrily, tears burning his eyes. He turned on his heel and swiftly stalked away from the odd blond girl, standing immobile and looking dream-like once more.
Harry looked around the Great Hall. Parents and students, all of the Houses together as one, Slytherins comforting Gryffindors, and vice versa. Many looked up as he pressed through the crowd in the middle of the large hall. He looked up at the enchanted ceiling, and saw something he had never witnessed ever before in his whole life…a lunar eclipse. How very strange…He rushed outside and saw the ink black sky. He located the moon over his head, and saw the moon, a strange, faded orange color. About half was orange, the other half was normal colored. The eclipse must be going away…he thought vaguely to himself. The odd sight made him think of defeating Voldemort…the orange was the bad, and it was slowly receding…the bright, dazzling whiteness of the moon was the good side, finally triumphing.
He couldn't help but smiling to himself. Maybe Luna was right; perhaps it was all worth it somewhere deep down. He had murdered Voldemort, after seven years. It was over. Still, Harry couldn't help but thinking of all the dead bodies in the room next to the Great Hall. Tonks, Professor Lupin, Professor Snape, Colin Creevey, Ron…he could barely think the name without tears threatening to escape his eyes. Finally, he let them come. In great numbers they poured down his face into his bloody robes.
He sat down on the cold, hard ground and glanced back up at the moon. He can't be sure, but he almost thought he heard a phoenix singing in the distance…