I have decided that bad is not a good word to use in the circumstances we now find ourselves.
As I run towards the Great Hall, hand in hand with Dean Thomas, I consider the many and contrary definitions of the word “bad”. “Bad” is extremely imprecise; it means too many things. This is why bad is not good.
Years ago Harry told me that the people who took my things and hid them were bad. He was being imprecise, but Harry does not always think clearly.
Food can turn bad.
People can turn bad, too, but people do not rot and decompose and smell when they are bad.
I remember that strange encounter in Ravenclaw Tower which took place only a few minutes ago. I realise that my last thought was imprecise, too. Alecto and Amycus Carrow are bad, and they smell bad. So some bad people smell bad, but some, Draco Malfoy for example, don’t. I wonder why this should be.
The world is a very complicated, and usually very beautiful, place. Even bad smells serve a purpose. If it smells bad, don’t eat it, Daddy once told me while I was vomiting. That was good advice. Daddy’s advice is usually very good, though it seems that even Daddy can do bad things.
Trying to sell Harry to the Death Eaters in exchange for me, was that good, or bad? He wanted to free me, and that is a good thing, but Harry would have probably died, and that is a bad thing. The world is definitely a very complicated place.
Evil is a good word, when used correctly. I decide to consider “evil”.
In my experience, most people like to be alive and, as an obvious corollary, do not want to be dead. When threatened most people will fight for their lives, just as we are about to do.
If most people like to be alive, then it seems obvious that taking the gift of life from them is wrong. This, I think, is evil. No one with whom I have discussed this subject has disagreed with me about this. Everyone I know believes that, were someone to deliberately take their life, then the life-taker would be evil. Some people, however, believe that there may, sometimes, be justification for taking a life. After much consideration, I think that I disagree. Deliberately killing someone is wrong; it is an evil act. I am a witch, and so I can prevent people from doing evil things without doing evil things myself.
Voldemort kills without compunction. He is certainly evil and so are many of his followers. Most people are frightened of Voldemort. I wonder if he thinks that this is a good thing, because it is not. I spent months in the cellar of Malfoy Manor. I know that Draco Malfoy and his parents are terrified of Voldemort and so is Mr Ollivander. Almost everyone is. People do what Voldemort wants because they are frightened of what would happen to them if they did not.
No one likes Voldemort; he has no friends. He must be very lonely. Voldemort, it seems to me, thinks that fear is enough to control people. It is, sometimes, but fear will not work forever.
Frightened creatures form herds for defence, because there is strength in numbers. Sometimes the herds stampede, and when there is a stampede, even large and dangerous predators can get trampled to the ground. I think that this is what is happening now, and I think that Voldemort does not realise this. Our herd of herbivores does not have to be stronger than his pack of predators; it simply has to be bigger. And our herd is increasing in size because Voldemort is making more and more people frightened. Voldemort is very foolish to make so many people frightened of him.
I know that people call me Loopy Loony Luna, and that they think that I am harmless. No one is frightened of me, but they should be. They should remember that a Crumple-Horned Snorkack is harmless unless its home or family is threatened. They should remember that Hogwarts is my home and it really is great to be back and I will defend this place. They should realise that my friends are here, that almost everyone I love is here.
I know what it feels like to be imprisoned by evil people. I spent weeks in that cell remembering everything that Harry taught us. I know what I am capable of, and I know that people should be afraid of me. I am very glad that they are not, because then I would have no friends and I would be lonely. I do not like to be lonely.
No one is frightened of Harry, either. They should be very frightened of Harry Potter. I have seen him sad, I have seen him happy, I have seen him angry, and I know that he will not give up. Voldemort has attacked Harry for seven years. Every time Voldemort has attacked he has been defeated, and every time Harry has become stronger. There is a lesson to be learned there, and I wonder why Voldemort has not learned it. People say that Voldemort is a very powerful wizard. But he is also very stupid; he does not understand people. Voldemort simply demands that his supporters fight.
Harry rescued me from a dungeon because he wants his friends to be safe. The Death Eaters are here because they have been ordered to be here. We are here because we want to be here, because Harry is our friend, and because we are all frightened of Lord Voldemort.
I realise that my grip on Dean’s hand has been getting tighter and tighter. We reach the Great Hall, so I release Dean’s hand and he releases mine. He joins his fellow Gryffindors, who all seem pleased to see him. I take my place with the other Ravenclaws – they seem surprised, rather than pleased. One, a boy called Nigel, asks me what I am doing here.
That is an extremely imprecise question.
I consider telling him that I am rationalising my philosophy on evil, which is a correct answer. It is not, I think, what he wants to know.
‘I am here to help Harry, because he is my friend,’ I tell him. ‘We are going to fight Voldemort, because he is evil.’
‘As loony as ever,’ Nigel snorts.
‘As honest as ever,’ Terry Boot says in his big deep gruff voice. Terry has black hair and big ears and Ginny says that his face looks like he ran, very fast, into a wall when he was little. Ginny’s description is strangely accurate. Terry is very tall and very wide, and he looms over Nigel.
Nigel looks at big looming Terry, turns pale, and sits down without saying anything else.
‘Good answer, Luna,’ says Terry, winking at me.
I wonder if I should ask Terry what it is like to be able to loom. I cannot loom; I am much too small to be able to loom.
But now is not the time as Professor McGonagall wishes to speak. She is an extremely intelligent woman and deserves my full attention.