It mattered not to Hermione; she swung the door open to the bedroom, looking around the stately chamber. A few twin sized four poster beds, draped in Gryffindor red, filled the room. Heavy trunks sat at the foot of each bed. The curtains were drawn, but she knew it was dark outside. A merry fireplace warmed the room, chasing away the chill that touched her skin as she strode towards the bed she assumed to be Harry’s. Reading the label on the trunk confirmed her suspicions, and she lifted the lid. Hermione rifled around inside (she made a note to organize the mess inside if she had the chance, bloody hell) until she finally found what she sought.