Hermione’s nightmares hadn’t stopped. The first night Bellatrix stayed in the room with her, on a made-up bed by her desk, Hermione had hoped that she would have a rare, sleepless night, but her mind at other ideas. She dreamt of the Department of Mysteries, of standing before a strange veil listening to voices whispers as hands reached out for her. Hermione, Hermione, they called, reaching for her, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione! Their hands were on her shoulders, tugging her into the veil as she squirmed.