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During Dumbledore's funeral, Luna stands on the outskirts of the crowd and watches the grief ebb and flow. Her Spectrespecs cause the light around everyone to flicker in strange and unusual ways that capture her attention here and there. She knows part of it is from the tears in her eyes - she didn't really know Dumbledore (she expects no one did except perhaps McGonagall and Snape, but that's the province for the trashy romance novels her mother used to read long ago) - but she rather liked him, as he was nice and often had candy (though that's the province of the other "true crime" books her mother used to read long ago as well). But Luna's different from her mother and she's never met a lemon drop she didn't like. And she's actually met quite a few after that one visit with her father to the lower reaches of Albania and the strange oasis they found there on their search for the fluted Snipledose Mouse. She turns her gaze toward the large white coffin that's partly a monument and partly an altar which they're about to offer themselves up on. It glows and she knows it's not the Spectrespecs, so she turns head and watches the gathered crowd instead. There are hints of black and blue around the ones that are there because they have to be with faint scores of green. There are people who are relieved and people who are afraid and only a few that are genuinely sad, which surprises her. She thinks people should be sad. It's power, she knows. People are afraid of Harry for the same reason, because he has more power than they do and they know they're at a disadvantage should he want to be someone like Voldemort and really what could they all do? But Luna doesn't think that will happen but if it does, she knows Harry has friends that will stop him, kill him if they have to stop him and really, she thinks, those are the truest friends of all. She takes off the glasses as she's getting a headache and makes her way over to Neville and sits beside him, reaching under his chair first to capture Trevor and set him on his lap. Neville smiles and it's milky and sad, and she pats his hand. They'll stand behind Harry, she knows, but she's not afraid to do it with a weapon in her hand.
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