The ground was cold underneath him and he struggled for breath, felt his own blood gushing out of him. He had been sliced nearly in two but still felt no pain—was Hermione responsible for that? A small act of mercy in the midst of her anger—it comforted him somehow. His vision was spotting all over and he was losing consciousness. Blood welled and bubbled from his mouth and his left hand lay a short distance away from him, fully severed. He reached for Luna, fear for her wellbeing overriding everything else. It was impossible to turn his head to look for her and a brief panic overtook him, but he felt her hand grasp his weakly from beside him still. She was growing cold fast.