            Back at her parent’s house, Hermione resolutely ignored Lucius as she put the shopping away. He just sat there, watching, slumped as much as the ropes allowed. When the final canister of oatmeal was shoved away, she finally climbed to the second floor. She checked the guest room, then her parent’s (just a peek—she couldn’t bare it any longer), then finally her childhood room at the end of the hall. A crayon sign hung from the door, the word "Enter" drawn in the crisp, bright pink letters of her nine-year-old self.