The grey clouds overhead darkened. A slight drizzle fell that was only noticeable by the intermittent feeling of a wet dollop on Hermione’s exposed shoulders. The pistol in her hand was still held high and pointing at Riddle’s lifeless body. She reached out her foot and kicked at his leg nervously, watching as his body slumped down in a pool of its own blood. Slowly, she lowered the gun, not entirely certain he was dead.   