The Great Hall is full of people, swarming with the intense humming energy of fear and uncertainty. She parts with Dean when they reach the entrance and they go their separate ways; Dean to the Gryffindor table, she to hers. She takes a seat beside Padma Patil, who's already there. She notices that Parvati has paid no attention to House lines; she's sitting beside her twin, and their hands are interlocked, holding tight, squeezing.
Professor McGonagall is outlining the evacuation plan, but Luna doesn't need to listen. It doesn't matter what the plan is – she already knows that she isn't leaving. Not only that she has nowhere to go – she still doesn't know where they've taken her father, though she tries not to think of that. It's just that . . . her place is here.
Here, with the side of righteousness. Here, with her fellow fighters. Here, with the DA. Here, with the teachers. Here, with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Here, with Ginny. Here, with Neville.
Luna rotates her head from side to side, looking for him. He will be at the Gryffindor table, probably with the other Gryffindor DA members. The Order of the Phoenix is standing at the staff table with the teachers. The Order and the DA are the only ones fully dressed – everyone else is still wearing pajamas and slippers. Some have hastily thrown on dressing gowns. All look pale, either from sleepiness, or from fear.
She's just spotted the back of Neville's head when the voice speaks.
High, cold – hearing it seems to undo all the healing that has happened at Shell Cottage. It is clear and hard, pitiless, with just the hint of a hiss lying under the words. She can picture his face clearly in her mind, can hear Ollivander's screams, can feel and see the crushing darkness all around her – the voice shreds not only her ears, but her self control. Tears begin to well in her eyes, and she can't hold them back, especially not when some of her fellow students start to scream. It only intensifies the feeling of the cellar.
She swallows hard around the sudden choking metal in her throat, clamps her hands tightly over her mouth, trying to hold herself together. The tears have freed themselves from her eyes and are streaming down her cheeks. She squeezes her eyes shut; presses her shoulders tightly into her ears, assumes the hunched-up position she used so many times in that cellar – but it can't block it out –
"You have until midnight."
With a shudder, Luna straightens up, wipes her eyes. It was his voice, yes, but it wasn't him. He's not here, in the Great Hall. He's waiting outside, yes – but it gives her time. Time to pull herself together, time to prepare herself, time to fight.
"But he's there!" cries a voice suddenly. Pansy Parkinson has risen; she stands beside the Slytherin table, with one finger aimed directly at Harry Potter's chest. "Potter's there – someone, grab him!"
Luna jumps up from her seat. She might not be brave enough to face Voldemort, but she can – and will – duel Pansy Parkinson if she has to. She whips out her wand and directs it at Pansy.
And then she realizes that she's not the only one. All around her, people are rising – the Gryffindor table, and then the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. And, looking over at the Slytherin table, she can see a few students sitting behind Pansy with their wands aimed at her back. Does Harry truly understand what he means to these people?
"Thank you, Miss Parkinson," says Professor McGonagall, in a tone that reveals that she would love to have been able to point her wand at Pansy herself. And then she begins directing the evacuation.
When Professor McGonagall leaves the staff table, a tall, bald man steps forward. From Ginny's descriptions, this must be Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Auror. He begins outlining plans for the battle.
"All right," he announces finally, "leaders up here and we'll divide up the troops!"
Luna is up from her seat before anyone else at her table is; she dashes around the table and hurries up to the high table. She can see and feel others doing the same all around her.
The leaders are spaced out evenly; people are starting to flock to different fighters. Luna knows this will just be the beginning – she has no idea where she'll end up. Even, she thinks with a hint of detached curiosity, if she'll end up. Funnily enough, now that it is so near, death does not frighten her – it only intrigues her.
Professor Flitwick is on the far left, Professor Sprout beside him, and Professor McGonagall next. Fred and George Weasley stand beside each other, but not as evenly spaced as the others. Are they separate groups, or are they together? For some reason, Luna feels with a shiver of certainty that they should not split up.
On George's right is his father, Mr. Weasley. Kingsley Shacklebolt is beside him, and Professor Lupin stands on the far right. Luna scans all the groups, and then she makes a beeline for her Charms Professor.
"Hello, Professor Flitwick!" she can't help saying, beaming up at him. Despite the urgency of the situation, he gives her a warm smile back.
"Hello, Miss Lovegood. I've missed having you in my class."
"I've missed being in your class," Luna assures him sincerely. "I hope I'll be welcome back."
"Undoubtedly," promises Professor Flitwick.