            Despite Lucius’s advice to forget about the prophecy for the time being, Hermione couldn’t help her mind from running the words through her head. After taking a scathing shower, and confirming that the raucous sound in the kitchen was Lavender and Ron throwing some kind of karaoke party with Neville and Parvati, Hermione cast a silencing spell and locked herself inside Sirius’s room. She slipped off her bathrobe, pulled on one of the man’s old, buttery t-shirts, and burrowed beneath the covers. With her wand lit, Hermione illuminated her cocoon as she traced first the scar on her forearm, then the raw mark on her inner thigh. It was ugly, and permanent, but it gave her hope. Hope that someday, this would all be worth it.