Hermione thinks about the quote she’d read just before leaving Hogwarts, and she'd always remembered it, and thought about it when Sirius and Dumbledore died, when she lost her parents, and Victor, and everyone else she’s ever lost. Anything you lose comes round in another form. It’s by Rumi, an old Persian poet that lived a thousand years ago. He died in 1273, but here, now, in a completely different part of the world, and in an age he probably never even imagined, she’s thinking about him, and what he said. 