"May I?" Hermione murmurs, reaching out her hand to lift the cup out of the box. The last time she held the cup was certainly under  different  circumstances. There’s still a deep magic that emanates from the golden object, but it’s purer. The essence of Helga and all of Hufflepuff. She frowns slightly, angry that Tom would corrupt this object with his own evil. It’s almost... sacrilege, to borrow a muggle term. "It’s lovely."