Peter nodded. "She's upstairs," he said, and led the way to the second floor, to Lavender's room. The door was locked from the inside in order to keep anyone out - particularly the children. A wave of his hand opened the locks, and Peter opened the door, letting Ginny in first.
The room was cold. Lavender was on her bed, carefully wrapped in a clean sheet, though the top was open so she could be seen. She was clean, dressed in fresh robes, hair combed. Her hands were clasped on her chest, holding her wand.
There wasn't much that could be done for the dead, but Peter knew what could be done. He'd been a hospice nurse before he was a vigilante, a superhero, a terrorist, a renegade, and a Champion. Some things, the important things, you simply didn't forget.