Spectre's Judgment, Death's Vengeance

Harry: Soo...the university is on strike?

Me: (mutters noncommittally, still sitting amidst various papers)

Harry: You don't seem any more relaxed.

Me: Because if you can't take your exams, your mark goes way down.

Harry: Oh. Huh. Almost makes me glad for OWLs...and that I'll apparently never finish mundane school. Seriously, does anyone who goes to Hogwarts get a muggle education at all?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

In the End

Nymphadora Lupin gently rocked Teddy to sleep, giving her maternal instinct full credit for the fact that she was not freaking out.

She, out of all the Order and students and civilians who were currently milling around the Great Hall and classrooms of Hogwarts, had the closest to an idea of what was happening out there. After all, the Black library went back further than most modern knowledge (if partially because their ancestors horded any information that might give them power or social status), so the myths and legends about the Avengers – resurrected spirits and warrior of Fate who descended to the living realm to set what was wrong, right – had served as some of her first bedtime stories. When Voldemort's men had started dropping like flies, she had wondered. When the very dead Harry Potter appeared on Grimmauld Place's doorstep, she knew for certain. Sirius knew the stories too, which was why he was here rather than recklessly charging into the heart of London as he typically did.

The freaking out part came from the fact that, wow, this hasn't happened since old times when the witch hunts were happening and dark lords threatened the entire human race; Voldemort really was the problem he presented himself as. Which she already knew, really, but this put everything into a pretty crazy perspective. Knowing that Voldemort had already lost was also somewhat disconcerting. Then again – literal deus ex machina. Spirit ex machina. Whatever was more accurate.

Well, that's what happened when Fate was thrown out of alignment.

The idea that Voldemort had always been Fated to loose gave her...peace? Hope? She'd spent so long, as an Auror, as a half blood, as a person growing up in the shadow of Tom Riddle and everything he had created, constantly seeing the worst of the world and the people in it. On bad days, she would cynically wonder if there were such things as love overcoming hate, or whatever Headmaster Dumbledore would have said to encourage the Order whenever things looked bleak (which was almost always). If those things were solely the creation of fairy tales and Disney movies. And then this had happened, like the universe was adjusting its alignment.

Welcome to the world of magic.

Of course, all this meant that Harry couldn't stay. Avengers only stayed long enough to finish whatever they had left undone. She hoped that he could meet Teddy and Mariah; even if he could see them from Heaven it just wasn't quite the same. Remus and Sirius had seen him, which was good; Sirius seemed more together than he had in two years. The two older men were currently moving civilians and students around, breaking up arguments, and generally behaving like the aurors they would have been if Voldemort's war hadn't interrupted their lives.

Hermione and Luna were back from their dangerous errand, along with Luna's father. Hermione seemed at peace; she was sitting next to Ron and quietly explaining something to him. Nymphadora didn't know if Ron had seen Harry as well, though she was leaning towards yes since the boy wasn't surprised by whatever it was that Hermione was telling him. The Weasleys were clustered together and close as they had been in a while; Percy was among their number again for the first time in a year. He had been in the Ministry during Harry's attack on it; he hadn't been hurt but Harry had thrown something at him that transported him back to his family's safe house. After several fights and apologies later, he had rejoined them properly. Most of what had happened at the Ministry because of Voldemort terrified him anyway, so it wasn't as difficult as it might have been otherwise. It was good to see a family reuinted in the midst of a war – or at the tail end of one.

Nymphadora glanced over at the Slytherin table. It was eerily quiet. Some of the students looked frightened, others contemplative, but most of them just seemed like they weren't sure what to say or what to be a part of. She felt bad. Contrary to what some people believed, the number of death eaters from Slytherin wasn't a majority in this generation. And the kids themselves mostly just didn't know any better...and now a literal judgment spirit had descended from Heaven to tell them that everything they believed wasn't just wrong, but evil.

And they had been spared.

Nymphadora didn't doubt that many kids there, like Nott or Malfoy's former minions, had no idea how to feel or what to think. If they weren't scared out of their minds. The younger kids largely had their parents sitting with them, so there was some adult presence at the table of green and silver (which was more than there had been in a while – Severus Snape was a brilliant potion master and a better spy, but he wasn't good with children. Frankly it would have been better for him to teach Advanced Potions while keeping Slughorn as head of house. The older man was simply more approachable). Hopefully this would help them in the future.

Teddy yawned. Nymphadora smiled softly down at her child and let him grasp her finger. Next to him, Mariah slept on, apparently oblivious to the emotion charged air of the school. She was a very quiet baby, ironic considering what her father was like – never quiet, always restless.

Harry had given his little 'cousin' a silver cross before disappearing off to deliver holy judgment. All Nymphadora could think about was how she was going to tell this story when Mariah got old enough to understand it. It was good that she lived in a world of magic.


Thank you for reading.