            Excitement bubbled inside her all Thursday. Not even her nightmare could quell it (she’d been in the drawing room again, but this time it was Draco who held the blade—Sirius had saved her before she woke up, gasping). Hermione could hardly focus on her work of scheduling next month’s interdepartmental meetings, her mind solely on her research. She was sure that she knew more about the wizarding afterlife than any witch or wizard before her, if the lack of books on the topic had any merit. She wondered if the lack of interest came from the magical community’s distaste for religion. Who needed God when miracles came from a wand?