No reason. No reason at all except the spectre in the corner of the room that stared back at her with coal-black eyes that seemed lit from within. The grimace stretched across Her face could have been mistaken for a frown but Hermione knew exactly what it was. The creature had followed her just as it had said it would. She should have known it, should have prepared for it, but here on her back with detritus in her hair and pain shooting along through her foot and leg, the spectre was the least of her worries. The Scar would keep.