            The house was still quiet when Hermione eased her stiff limbs from the couch. She grabbed her beaded bag and padded up the stairs, to the bathroom. When her eyes fell on the sink counter, she stiffened. Three toothbrushes remained. One blue, one orange, one bright pink—the brush she had used during summer holidays. She wondered, vaguely, if her parents had chosen the same colors wherever they were now. Somewhere hot and dry and happy. Merlin, she hoped they were happy.