"Muggles have a saying, Ade. An eye for an eye. That was for my parents, you bloody bitch." She stood, and headed for the stairs, making it to the flight leading up to the third floor, when she once again was brought to a halt by another body. Cecily. Face down, wand still in hand, neck twisted at an unnatural angle. That... had to be the work of one of the boys, surely? Uneasy, panic once again trying to surface, Hermione continued her climb. She made it up to the fourth floor, and the closed Chamber doors, without encountering a single person. There were no signs of a fight on the third floor, or the stairs leading up to the fourth. The Chamber doors were closed and wouldn't budge, no matter how hard she pulled or pushed. Unwilling to waste her store of magic, she headed for one of the side doors (open, she noted with some interest). With a peculiar sense of urgency, Hermione strode as fast as her weakened legs could carry her through the halls, heading for the Chamber. It had been two minutes, maybe less, since she'd landed in the armory, but it felt like a lifetime. Something urged her forward. A sense of foreboding. A bone deep feeling that who and what she loved was in imminent danger.