There were holes in Luna's memories, and she couldn't figure out why. They were not small, they were clean, like some summer afternoon that faded away after being recalled too often, like the first week of school - only soft, warm sensations without form. No, these were cut deep and torn out, the sinnews of the thoughts gaping at each other to try and make a connection once again. In their absence, her mind played back every moment before and after the holes - giving her a good idea of exactly what was missing.
Luna was tired, the battle wasn't over and Harry was missing. Ginny said she saw him chase the darkness into the main hall, and with Tonks by her side they ran to the doorway. There they were-
She sat with Ollivander int he dark, holding the old man's hand tight as they listened to the footsteps of the Dark Lord. For they called him the Dark Lord now, it was what the other voices above said, and for fear of their lives... they too called him that. The rat-faced man opened the door first, ushering in- - Ollivander was weaker now, and once the door was shut she ran over to her friend, now cradeling his useless, broken wrist. "Here, here, I got this, we got this. Just think of the sun..."
Harry was dead, and they were bringing his body up to the castle for proof. The Death Eaters, she saw Hagrid first, and as her eyes wandered- -Neville was so brave.
He was dead, and she had to see for herself that it was over- -a Professor called her away, and she ran over to help carry another body inside.
As her mind drew back each memory again and again she tried to understand exactly what it was that Cornfoot had taken. Why he wanted those memories, why she had been the one to give it to him. Had she offered? Had she told him she would? Why couldn't she remember the last few weeks, why was the only thought she had was the assurance that she was doing everything she would have. She was acting normal, when that clearly wasn't the case?
What had he done to her?
She flinched when Neville opened the door, pulling her knees closer to her chest. She knew he was a friend, but Stephen had been nice, had been in Dumbledore's Army. So had Neville, so what did that mean? Holding her head to her knees she shook her head, speaking only loud enough for Neville to hear. "I.. I don't know."