            Hermione didn’t think she breathed until they were safely in the Death Room. The chamber’s coldness seemed to swell around her, benches arching high towards the walls, dais standing proud and lonely at the center. Lucius swept off the cloak with a flourish, folding it neatly and handing it back. She thanked him, before carefully extracting everything from her bag. First the genie lamp came out, set down on a bench by the dais with a clink. Then the dagger, then her journal and the jacket. She blew out a breath and whispered, "Are you ready?"