Two lightbulbs smashed overhead, showering them with glass. Hermione's hatred, her fury, was surging out of her. She had no ability to control it. Harry reached over and touched her just then. Not with his hands, or his fingers ... but with his own magic. It searched deep into her very being and enveloped it, caressed and soothed it. Harry pulled Hermione's destructive rage into himself, and she erupted. He absorbed it, casting runes on his forehead when his own body became overloaded. They glowed furiously, and Harry cast them into the coin at his throat. Even that didn't seem enough.