The Great Hall

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 Neville woke suddenly, and the pain in his temple was apparent at once. Lights danced above him and the vast room he seemed to be sleeping in was full of laughing people, crying people, and rubble that seemed to have come from the very walls of this room itself. He blinked and everything came into focus.

As he sat up, Neville saw that he was on a wobbly hospital bed in the middle of the Great Hall of Hogwarts. A piece of wood that seemed to be on fire drifted lazily past his head, but he did not notice; every memory from the battle that raged mere hours ago came rushing back to him; Harry Potter coming through the secret passage from the Hog's Head into the Room Of Requirement, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named entering the school itself accompanied by those Death Eaters who were not "teaching" at the school, and a battle raging between those who wanted Harry dead and those who did not. Harry Potter had then so bravely marched into the Forbidden Forest where he sacrificed himself for all the remaining fighters on his side. Hagrid and the Death Eaters, accompanied by You-Know-Who, had marched up to the school carrying what seemed to be Harry's lifeless body. Neville remembered vividly the hatred that had spread to every part of his body when he first saw this, especially when Bellatrix Lestrange had addressed him. But Harry was not dead, and he fought bravely against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, eventually finishing him off for good.

Neville shook his head as if to clear it, but the best he could do was tell himself that now was not the time to think about the night's events. He suddenly became aware of the sword that was in his right hand. It was heavy silver with rubies the size of chicken eggs set into the hilt. It was bloody, but Neville thought nothing of it. After all, it was a sword. A name was engraved into the blade of the sword, Godric Gryffindor. Neville remembered hearing somewhere that only a true Gryffindor could pull this weapon from the depths of the Sorting Hat, and his heart swelled with pride. He suppressed a grin, and instead sighed.

Neville took in his surroundings. Teachers and students and families were huddled against each other, hugging, weeping over their dead loved ones. There was a waft of happiness in the air however, because the cause of all of these casualties had finally, and without lack of trying, been eliminated. The Great Hall was filled with a small and pleasant hum.

Neville looked just near his bed, and perched on stone steps and clad in a blue sweater and purple pants was someone he wanted to see very badly. Despite the pain in his right leg that caused him to limp, Neville stood up and hobbled over to the steps. His heart smiled at the sight of the scraggly dirty blonde hair, the dirt smudged cheeks, the black combat boots. He sat down next to her, sword in hand.

For a moment both Neville and Luna stared at a spot in front of them. Neville turned his head to look at Luna, a teeny smile playing with the corners of his mouth. Luna glanced down at her lap and then looked over to Neville too. They shared that small grin.

Luna then reached out and took Neville's hand. She set it in her lap with her other hand. And she smiled down at it.

Not In The Ways We Expect - A Neville and Luna StoryWhere stories live. Discover now