Luna is an eccentric often underestimated by her peers in canon. However, she proved to be surprisingly mature. She is also remarkably perceptive and a staunch supporter of Harry and friends. She also ended up being imprisoned in Malfoy Manor so the Death Eaters could blackmail her father to print unflattering articles on Harry in the Quibbler.

Moonstone

They do not have a house to go home to. At least not yet. For now, she was squeezed into Ginny's bedroom at the Weasley's Burrow. The Weasleys were so kind to put her up. Luna hummed as she worked at the desk by lamp light. Crookshanks meowed and butted her ankle. She paused to scratch the cat behind his ears. The feline purred his delight.

There were so many things that happened over the past few months. She had to make sense of it all. It had been a great adventure, fighting against Voldemort, being part of something so much bigger than her. At the same time, it was a journey marked by loss and pain. Now that chapter is closing, but not quite yet. First, there must be healing. The coloured yarns in her fingers danced and crossed as she braided them. This had to be done without magic the way her mother had taught her as a child.

Luna picked up a small bead from the small box on the desk. The beads were from a box salvaged from the ruins of her old home. Her mother had them from her mother, who had them from hers. An unending chain of witches adding to the stash as they went along. This was the first time she had seen the contents of the box. After her mother's passing, the box had been put away with the rest of her mother's things.

Apache tear Obsidian for protection. The black glassiness offset by streaks of grey. Her mother had told her of a great battle in bygone times against impossible odds. Obsidian blades were part of a potioneer's kit. Her mother had used her blade to slice ingredients for healing potions. Sharp, yet brittle, blade and shield both. Luna had fought as a warrior in more battles than a witch her age should, like so many of her peers in those troubled days. As she rolled the bead in her fingers, the memories came.

Shielding a wounded Ginny and her confounded brother, wielding her wand against much older wizards in the bowels of the Ministry. The faces of her fellow students flashed through her mind - the members of the DA who came when called to the Battle of Hogwarts. Some who might have teased her as Loony Luna before but now stood alongside her as equals in battle, a source of strength. There were losses of course, Lavender Brown, Colin Creevey, Fred Weasley… even Professor Lupin. She slipped the bead onto the yarn and knotted it.

Another face, grey eyes too haunted. For some the battle has not yet passed. They must endure what they might believe unendurable. Draco Malfoy. She had gone to the trial to testify. He had seemed a shadow of his former self, all bluster and swagger gone. He had been kind as far as his fellow Death Eaters would allow him to be, sneaking food, water, and vials of pain-relief potions to them after his aunt and uncles crucio-ed the prisoners for entertainment.

They had snapped her wand when they snatched her. She had endured the horrors of the damp, darkness of the Malfoys' makeshift dungeon, listening to others being tortured overhead. Once she had been certain it was Draco screaming. He did not come down for what seemed like forever in the dark. When he did, she noticed he favoured his left side. He was as much a prisoner as they were except his chains were invisible to most. The Wrackspurts told her.

Her fingers picked up another bead from the box – tiger's eye. Inner clarity and peace, balance. A good defence against the hordes of wrackspurts. She nimbly slipped the bead on, murmuring a blessing and wishes for healing for her fellow prisoners at the Manor. Ollivander had reopened his store. Dean had appeared back to his cheerful self, joking with Seamus when they visited Ron and George at the Burrow. Some scars run deeper.

She knew. Some nights at Shell Cottage after their rescue, she would go out into the garden and listen to the waves in the deepest hours of night. Fleur had been so kind to them. The French witch had tended their wounds the best she could, but she was not a trained mediwitch. They did not know what to do about the nightmares. Ollivander had requested wand woods and cores once he was able to sit up at a table. He insisted he must work. He spent long hours working and discarding failed wands before he had a wand ready for Luna's use when the summons came. Dean had to do without. Dean Thomas had been subdued at first, before being slowly drawn out of his shell. He had already lost comrades to the Snatchers while on the run. Griphook was sullen and snappish for the most part. He was dead now, perhaps the goblin might find peace in his afterlife. They were in for the long run, whether they knew it or not.

Her father…

A bead of pink quartz this time. Luna paused. The bead had been part of her mother's favourite necklace. She recalled playing with it as a child. Perhaps she had slipped it into the box before her accident, or her widowed husband had done so afterwards to keep it for their little girl.

She could not see the ruins of their home from the window. She wondered why the Death Eaters had gone after her father after they had ensured his cooperation by holding her hostage. Perhaps it was the Trio's unexpected call on him, that started the series of events. The Death Eaters sent him to Azkaban after the Trio's narrow escape. The Order got him freed after the War ended.

Her father had always been in somewhat frail health. The wrackspurts got to him bad after Mother died. They had been everything to each other since Mother's accident. He was a wonderful father to her. She was his only child. Perhaps they should have gone on the run together, but the Quibbler was the only paper countering the Ministry's propaganda, until his imprisonment.

The Dementors got to him bad in Azkaban. Father never fully recovered after Mother died. When they first saw him in his cell, the Aurors had feared he had been Kissed. Then Hestia Jones mentioned Luna in passing and he started gibbering about the Snatchers having his daughter and apologizing to the Order for the last issue of his paper. They rushed him to St Mungo's fearing he was subjected to some Confoundus Curse or similar memory hexes. There were parts of his memory missing. Being Crucio-ed repeatedly did not help his mental state.

Her poor father was still too confused to realize what was going on when Mr Weasley brought her to visit him. The healers reassured her that there was a reasonable chance of recovery. It would be useful if she could come visit often to speak to him. He was improving. She held a conversation with him about Crumple-horned Snorkbacks that lasted about an hour. The Weasleys had managed to assemble a photo album from those photos they had recovered and repaired from the ruins of the Lovegood home. Her father had wept over the sole photo of her mother they managed to restore. It showed her mother in her favourite pink robe and rose-quartz necklace. He might be discharged in a few more months depending on his condition. She was certain her father would recover well before then.

Love. Lord Voldemort failed to understand the power of love. Harry had understood. Love allows people to endure and prevail. Love is the powerful motivation driving a soul to lay down everything in sacrifice. Harry had mentioned Professor Snape's role as Dumbledore's double agent among the Death Eaters, how that single-minded commitment was born out of a long-lasting love. The dark lord had underestimated the late Potions Master. Love had driven them all to achieve the near-unachievable.

Luna took a deep breath. Feeling the rush of air into her lungs, holding it, then releasing it. The rose quartz went onto the yarn as well. Rose quartz represented love in all its myriad forms.

Odd how the tides had turned. They had been so certain that they would live their lives in fear, watching their Muggleborn and half-breed brethren persecuted under the unrelenting onslaught. Yet tides do turn like the seasons. Last year, it had seemed impossible that the Dark Lord would fall after the Ministry was overrun. Hogwarts had become a place of horrors. Yet they had stood defiant. Neville, Seamus, the Patil twins… everyone else in the DA, their teachers, the Order of the Phoenix, and numerous others unnamed.

The battle's done, now there will be a long road of healing ahead with many bumps. Their studies had been turned upside down under the Death Eater Ministry ordinates. The students would need an extra year to catch up if they could fix the castle in time to reopen.

Perhaps tomorrow, new adventures would come knocking. A final stone – Moonstone for new beginnings and changes, healing, and hope.

Luna tied the final knots to her bracelet and slipped it about her wrist. The stones glinted in the moonlight like cat's eyes.

"Let's go get you fed, puss," Luna scooped up Crookshanks and padded barefoot to the kitchen. She had promised Hermione to care for her pet if the Trio and the Weasleys were held up in London.

Author's Notes:

I know the gemstones have different symbolisms in different eras and cultures, but I am aiming for a series of healing-type crystals or stones, but nothing too precious for Luna to play with. Like Ollivander, she is using the process of making something to process the trauma and experiences of the past few years.