Later that evening, Hermione couldn’t sleep, and she wasn’t shy to admit that the townhouse gave her the creeps. The stairs creaked, the heads of former house-elves lined the walls, a blood supremacist screamed every time a noise was made, and Hermione was convinced there was a boggart living in the armoire in the sitting room. Not only that, but the house was eerily quiet without the large Weasley brood. She got out of bed, put on some slippers, and headed downstairs to make a cup of tea.