Now it was the end of May. Harry and Malfoy were thick in investigations and apparently getting along well enough. Ron was convinced that despite Gryffindor losing the House Cup to Ravenclaw he would make it onto the Chudley Canons and eventually the English National Team. Hermione realized she hadn't cast her rain repellant charm wide enough and the notebook she'd nearly filled as part of her preparation for prosecutorial studies was a sopping mess with blue and black ink bleeding throughout the pages. She couldn't think of a spell that would fix it. There must be one. She'd known it was likely to rain, hadn't wanted to be outside. What was she doing here?