somewhat revised
Some tried in vain to discover the whereabouts of the mourning Luna Lovegood. Her father did an entire spread on her disappearance, mentioning it monthly with growing worry and declining hope. The general belief was not a good one; the public opinion displayed her as already dead, either a victim of You-Know-Who or just a brokenhearted young-woman who saw no way out and took her own life.
She was not suicidal, of course, but the public opinion often steered her persona towards that sort of self-violence. She was odd and unusually detached and chipper in a way that none could quite grasp, so they pinned it all on insanity. Luna did not keep up with the articles or the rumors; she saw no reason to do so. All of that meant little then and absolutely nothing now.
She found the use of magic for physical enhancements and concealment to be utterly and entirely preposterous. Too long without updating said spells could result in a blotchy sort of half-regular half-improved look which would not be what was desired. She preferred the Muggle way of doing these sorts of things, no matter how greatly her own kin frowned upon such normalcy. Sometimes she could be so abnormal that only average actions would do.
"Your name appeared in the obituaries today." McGonagall was a grim woman, her glasses pushed down to the very bottom of her narrow nose. Luna glanced up in surprise, apparently dazed.
"They haven't found my body, have they?" The complete seriousness that followed that question was to be marveled at. Her teacher's lips curled into a straight, thin line but she said nothing more, only shaking her head.
"Why did they report me as dead, I'm not a corpse." Stating the obvious.
McGonagall seemed to think very deeply for a moment before raising a shriveled, bony finger to her lips. "They had reason to believe that a body found is yours, there was a Dark Mark overhead and no one else has been reported substantially missing for the extent that you have."
Her wide, doe eyes seemed to glaze over as she inadvertently spoke.
"The search has come to a stand-still, there will be little doubt now. Is it almost done?" Her professor and near mentor seemed to take all of this into consideration before shaking her head.
"We should wait for a little longer, it won't hurt if we can just hold this all off. Just a little longer, and it will all be sorted out." She sounded indifferent, but Luna knew better. She observed the signs, the torn cuticles, her fingernails bitten down to the quick, and her darting, slightly bloodshot eyes. McGonagall was just as terrified as she was, and it gave her a sort a comfort to know that she was not alone, never
alone.
Luna never depended on the opinions of others to fuel herself, she knew exactly who she was and was not afraid to express herself in whatever means was necessary. She was an independent spirit, capable of functioning without the support of her peers and often with ridicule. But it felt good to have someone, to have a purpose and to know exactly what it was that she needed to do.
"If you are entirely certain that this is what you want to do, that all this is where you want to go, we're going to have to get to work." There was an unsaid though heavily implied question buried shallowly inside that waffle. Luna did not even need to identify it, for McGonagall continued. "Are you sure that this is what you want to do?"
Luna turned her eyes of her guide with a sort of certainty that she had never seen. "Do Hornswallowers burrow inside the hibiscus plant?"
Professor McGonagall, or moreover ex-Professor McGonagall made a funny, half-squeaking sound that she was unable to conceal. With a stiff, cold, supposedly encouraging pat on Luna's shoulder she spoke. "I'll take that as a yes, Miss Lovegood."
Kind of short, but hey, I got it up!