            The headmistress caught her eye again, and though Hermione longed to wrench away from her old professor’s piercing stare, the witch’s air of commanding composure made it impossible to look anywhere else. "No, I suppose you’re not," McGonagall began slowly. "I read your file containing what the Ministry has been able to glean from Black and Potter. And do you know what I see?" When Hermione didn’t answer, the headmistress strode closer, forcing Hermione to lift her chin to keep the witch’s gaze. "I see a young woman who has spent months refusing to ask for or accept help when she needed it the most. When she was in my school on Valentine’s day, and was confronted by a prophecy. And I don’t fault you on that, Granger. I know your situation with Malfoy, and later with Black, was delicate. That you were reluctant to even let Potter help, at the very end. But you don’t have to go through this trial alone. You needn’t suffer through the grief alone either."