            With another stroke of luck, no one looked their way for very long. And by the time they reached Ollivander’s black brick storefront, Padfoot was happily trotting by her side. Hermione stilled by the closed door, fingertips brushing her companion’s back. The lights were on inside, glowing with cheery warmth. Through the grid of window panes, she saw him—Ollivander, wizened by more than just age. Last time she’d seen him, the wizard had been half a corpse. Hermione was pleased to see that time had put weight on his bones, and added a smile to his wrinkled face as he puttered behind the counter. She wondered if he still felt the crushing bleakness too—the pain that had not lifted, even after Harry killed Voldemort, and their world tilted back to normal.