            Sunday evening, Hermione found herself curled in an armchair, staring glazed-eyed at the dying fire. She debated a trip to Hogwarts, though even if she was allowed inside (a likely case, if Hermione claimed research for her Unspeakable work or even a friendly visit with old professors), she doubted there were any books worth pursuing. Hermione had searched for answers her sixth year following Dumbledore’s death. None had come up. Guilt simmered in her stomach; she’d only thought of bringing back the manipulative great wizard, when she hadn’t given Sirius’s death any such concern. At least back then. Now, it was all she could think of.