Harry and Hermione glanced at each other. He couldn't tell what exactly she was thinking of at the moment, but whatever it was had to be a PTSD flashback. For Harry, the word "blood" conjured more than a few things, in his mind's eye: his sister-in-law-to-be swooned on the floor of the drawing room at Malfoy Manor, copper liquid coagulating and streaming down her defaced arm. Lavender Brown, the stuff pooling from her neck while sprawled on the Hogwarts Castle steps and looking more dead than alive. An image of Luna Lovegood, with blood pouring from her nostrils, clear as day even in the dim light of....