Her breathing returned to normal when she was down the stairs. It was easier to push away the memories when she wasn't in that awful corridor. When there wasn't a trial in progress, Level Ten was practically silent. If she was forced to endure a lifetime of shuffling parchment in that dreadful place like the Umbridge cow, Hermione knew she would go completely mad. She wouldn't even need the destructive potions. Certainly there were worse existences, but not many.