            She’d spent her lunch hour with the Veil, again. At this point, that cold room knew her better than anyone in her department. Unlike her usual visits, Hermione had actually approached the dais. She’d listened to the rustled whisper of tattered fabric, hoping to hear a voice again. His voice. But after twenty minutes of standing just a foot away, she’d hung her head and wandered back to the stone benches. If Sirius Black was still on the other side, he’d apparently taken the day off.