A/N: Thank you. Be ordinary.

Epilogue

Life

Hogwarts burned.

It was a dark fire, scented with the seeping blood of the wounded and newly dead. Fingers closed around fingers as the family of survivors clung together. The largest gathering was of scared little first and second years and their guardians. Tyler Pomfrey, the fourth year entrusted with their care, tended to the couple of scrapes the terrified children had gained as they pressed against the walls, eyes wide, eyes fixed on the suits of armor racing past, eyes fixed at the flashes of light, at the battle, at the death.

They were so little.

It wasn't a burn that would last forever. The stonework was too entrenched, the castle too strong to be brought down by a nefarious foe as fire. No, it was a different sort of flames that the survivors left in fighting condition tried to put out. Special-elect Auror Nymphadora Tonks led her battered battalion against the flames, keeping the sickly stench of pain and death from reaching anyone further. Wand battled the flames, flames fueled by the blood of people that Hogwarts had once loved.

Hogwarts lives.

And every living creature suffers when what they love is hurt.

No one begrudged the silent sentinel his walk from clustered gathering to clustered gathering. He touched shoulders now, kissed a few foreheads, clasped hands, and doled out hugs. He did not say a word. For the first time in four years, he wore no gloves, but few noticed the intricate scars that had crept beyond his fingers, across his palms, into an intricate dance of scar tissue. Each scar was a story, something he'd given up in his journey…

Journey?

No.

There is an end to each journey, a point when things end and there is no light on the horizon because everything is ended and resolution is reached and a home has been reached.

No one begrudged the devastated man his round passed the bodies of the dead… too many to name, too many to mention… yearmates, younger-years, older-years, old friends, new friends, long lost companions, unknowns, unexpecteds… William Caric was posed, his hands on his chest, his wand slipped between his hands – eyes closed. Hogwarts wept for him. Sally-Anne, the consummate idiot… he turned away before allowing himself to ruminate on her death. She had returned, untrained, unpracticed, on only the knowledge that she might help save lives.

And she did.

She did and paid for it.

The gathered community of first, second… even the third years…

Hogwarts wept for her.

And so did Harry.

They wept for too many names, too many faces, too many friends...

He slipped away from the dead, tripping over the foot of the last person in line.

Colin Creevey.

Too young to die.

They were all too young to die.

Tears and curses welled in Harry's soul, but none spilled out.

"Harry?" Many individuals had escaped from the cluttered auditorium and Great Hall and grand rooms expanded to accommodate the environments. The hallways reeked of a different environment. "If you're going to throw up, do it in the bathroom." Luna's blunt comment almost broke through the fog of haze and grief. He knew she'd lost an arm: that her empty sleeve hung down over the magical cauterized stump; that her wand was clutched in the wrong hand… "It's better in there."

"Thanks."

She clicked at him, a genuine smile on her face.

He moved on. Was he looking for someone?

Not really. The dead were gathered, and he'd said goodbye.

The living were scattered, but he'd reassured the clustered. He found more living, more reassurance, in the silent hallways of the sobbing castle.

It was Hermione, he found, at the top of the astronomy tower. She stood too close to the edge, her hands clasped behind her, eyes fixed on the band of warriors keeping the flames of the dead at bay. He slipped up behind her. "Where's Kenneth?"

She turned her head just enough to acknowledge him, but not comment. "With Kaitlin. Sarah?"

Harry almost didn't respond. "Still being worked on."

"She'll pull through. She always does."

Harry took a step closer to the edge. He could see now, the drop down and the crumbled bodies of the burning dead below. They hadn't gathered the dead of the Death Eaters. They haven't seen the point. Aurora, though, had been pulled from the heaps… not wounded by any magic, but only gravity and ill-will and the ensnarement's of an evil moon. Hermione shivered. Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders, but neither of them moved beyond that. There was too much emotion hanging, too much to acknowledge.

"Do you think we could have done it, without everyone?"

At his question, Hermione dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out her soft, perfectly round, gray stone. She turned it over in her hand. "Five rocks each Christmas. Five people. Five more rocks each Christmas. Four more Christmases. The twenty-five of us, trusted with the Hunt." She swallowed. "Well, in Merlin's name, Annaline saved our asses." The silent thanks for trust was left unside.

Harry forced a humored smile. "You always did love her work."

"What's this biography I've heard about?" The retort was quick, ordinary. The mood settled around them, almost heavier than before.

"Thank you."

"For—"

"Never leaving."

She winced, but accepted the thanks. The words fumbled out without her control. "Kenneth wants to get away. Leave England. Leave the death."

Harry froze, but did his very best not to let her notice. She noticed anyway. "Go with him." He leaned to the side and pressed a quick kissed to her forehead. "Go become best friends with your parents."

"England needs…" she fumbled, "you need me. There's things that still need to be done, loose ends-"

"Hermione, not everything has its answer. Not everything is explainable. Like time travel, right?" She smirked. "Accept it, please. And, yeah, you know I do. But I'll have Li. Able. Tonks. Everyone, really. They'll keep me on track." The absence of Sarah's name punched Hermione in the gut.

She leaned on his shoulder, forcing uneven gasps into her chests. "Everything is going to change. And she will pull through."

"I know. But, not everything. Not everything changes." Harry whispered. "Hogwarts lives."

She closed her eyes. "Hogwarts lives."

Below them, one last blow from the wand of five fighters extinguished the flames. In the great rooms, packed with recovering survives, the whisper passed from person to person in reassurance: "Hogwarts lives." In the infirmary, they lost two souls but pulled one out of the woods. The first words on her lips were a question. "Hogwarts lives?"

"Yes."

She closed her eyes, stable now. "Hogwarts lives." Rejoice. Proclaim it allowed. "As long as Hogwarts lives…"

No.

It'll live. Forever on. As ordinary as any magic castle could be.