            On Wednesday evening, Hermione returned to Grimmauld Place with her hair twice the size of its usual state. She’d spent her hours at the manor brewing instead of researching, cooped up in the underground potions lab which likely hadn’t seen a soul since...well, since the war had ended. The effects of the Ministry’s raid were apparent—missing ingredients, overturned cauldrons and shattered glass still oozing something sticky. Lucius had explained that Narcissa did all of their brewing, whenever healing potions were required. In her absence, the lab had been overtaken with perfumed dust and a musty odor even the strongest banishing spell could not scrub out.