            Careful not to snag her skirt, Hermione climbed out onto the roof. Grimmauld Place, for all its musty, drafty faults, had an excellent view of central London. Lights flickered against a patchwork of city streets, all set against a backdrop of the cool blue sky, its edges tinged with streaks of gold. Harry’s hair stuck up, silhouetted by the encroaching night. Cigarette smoke trailed above him, before fading into the icy January air.