Chapter 8 - Regulus Black

Lizzie hadn't stepped foot in Grimmauld Place since the Christmas holiday before Sirius died, even though she owned it. The Order ceased using it after Kreacher's betrayal, along with uncertainty about what would happen if Bellatrix attempted to stake claim in the event Sirius hadn't written his will over correctly to Lizzie. It was decided that he had, rendering Lizzie quite possibly the richest witch in the country with the ancient Black Family fortune an addition to the Potter family fortune she'd inherited from her father. Nonetheless, it wasn't wise to risk exposure to allies of Voldemort.

When Dumbledore died, everybody who knew the location subsequently became secret keepers in his place, including Snape, making the fidelius charm, though still active, incredibly weak. Lizzie was convinced Moody had put various charms and jinxes in place to deter Snape from exposing the former headquarters to other death eaters, but none of them were certain of the extent.

When the gates emerged and they clicked open the front door into the foyer, Lizzie, Ron, and Hermione all held their uncertainty and apprehension in their chests, not daring to breathe.

Almost instantly their tongues rolled back in their mouths and Moody's voice echoed around them. A figure emerged in the dust and glided rapidly in their direction, reaching a hand for Lizzie's throat. It was Dumbledore, and Lizzie shrieked.

"I didn't kill you!" She yelled instinctually and the jinx seemed to break. Her chest was cold and tight, and her breath rattled for several moments.

"You reckon there's more?" Lizzie asked, looking around the deserted and ominous home with her feet planted firmly by the door.

"Homenum Revelio" Hermione muttered. Nothing happened. "We're alone," she said. Lizzie gave a sharp exhale of resolve and stepped forward down the hall with her wand outstretched. She pushed open the door of the kitchen to find it turned over. The living room was the same. Ron peered through half an inch of the drapes out at the street and shook his head.

"I don't see anyone," he said. Lizzie examined the tapestry and memories of some of her last words with Sirius hovered in the air. She'd been livid with him. She'd nearly left and vowed never to see him again. The wound in her back from the Order setting out to unhinge her still throbbed. It hadn't healed when the plan ultimately succeeded, she had never fully forgiven them. She was grateful to be free of the affliction that was rapidly killing her at the time, she wasn't sure if there was an alternative to what they had collectively done, but nonetheless knew the cure had more to do with Voldemort failing in his attempt to hone it, and her watching her godfather die in his attempt to rescue her, than the torture of thinking the people she'd loved most were complacent in watching her suffer for some higher purpose.

This house was a time capsule, but in the brief spells she'd spent here, she'd only felt profoundly angry and resentful, overcome with grief and anxiety, whilst making a futile effort to recover as her body was overcome by the cancerous embodiment of suppression and trauma.

Sirius hated this home, it was a prison away from prison, his own demons and abuse at the hands of a ruthless and intolerant family had closed in on him, a suffocation that made him desperate for an escape that ended his life. She'd only had both her fathers for tiny spells of time, both betrayed by a man she'd since killed, and both of them spent those short periods of time confined and in hiding, protecting her in vain and losing their lives in the process. Guilt ate at her insides like a curse of its own.

Lizzie's knees buckled when a searing pain rushed through the edges of her scar and into her bloodstream. She clasped her head in agony and Ron rushed to her aid. The outline of a pointed face came into view and a high-pitched hiss rang through her ears. "More, Draco," she heard Voldemort say. "He will suffer my displeasure until he can give me any indication as to where she is," he said. The man screamed in agony under Draco's wand whose face was jaded and flushed in response. She couldn't tell who it was, she only saw Draco trying desperately not let fear spill over onto his face.

"I see you," Voldemort hissed and it ran through Lizzie's ears like a whisper. She shuddered and sealed her eyes as they ran crimson. Her abdomen made a sharp writhe like she'd been bit, and her veins erupted in what felt like acid. He had her in almost as strong a hold as he would have if he had he been in this drawing room with them. "Open your eyes" he hissed. It took begging every nerve in her body not to oblige and keep them shut. He made a tutting noise and her mind raced with flashes of their last encounter. The agony of a single assault that he made feel like several all at once was truly unbearable. "Obedience is not optional," he said scathingly, and a sharp bite struck her insides. She didn't open her eyes. How was this possible? She thought. Her body curled into an unnaturally tight fetal position, and she pulled her shirt up over head to cover her eyes so she could open them. Lizzie couldn't get him out without opening them. There was one more horrible surge of pain through her head, and then she heard Hermione and felt Ron's hands on her head. They were crouched beside her, and Hermione was shakily unstopping what she had of the potion Slughorn created. Lizzie was sobbing tearlessly into the shirt on her face and hugging her body tight. Her head cleared slowly, like bathwater down a partially obstructed drain. Hermione gasped at the blood pooling under the skin in her abdomen, Lizzie threw up red blood and Ron hoisted her up into a sitting position by her armpits, pulling her shirt down to cover her.

Hermione was crying. "What happened?" She asked cautiously. Lizzie sputtered and coughed rather savagely.

"Draco is being ordered to torture people. He... he could tell I was in his head, in his anger he lost control. He burrowed himself into mine, ordered me to show him where we were by opening my eyes, when I refused, his anger rose ten fold... the ophidians... he can use them..." she said with a dry mouth. Hermione gave Ron a horrified look but their attention was broken by a silver light that burst into the room. It solidified into a weasel and spoke in Arthur's voice.

"Family is safe. Do not reply, we're being watched," is all he said. Lizzie wiped wetness from her face with her sleeve and Ron exhaled with some relief.

"We'll all sleep in here tonight," Hermione said. Ron nodded but Lizzie stared at the embroidery on the couch as though intent to memorize it. It cleared her mind much like examining the wallpaper and the table dressings at her aunt and uncle's home always had. She retreated into depths of her mind she knew didn't function, grabbed the dead hand and let it pull. She went dead in her skin long enough for Voldemort to concede and leave it entirely. Hermione broke her concentration and revived her with a gentle and cautious touch. Her eyes flicked out of their trance and she felt alone again, wondering if she'd ever know a life without resistance.

The following morning, Lizzie woke curled up in a blanket on the sofa across from Hermione. Ron was in a sleeping bag on the floor and had Hermione's hand loosely in his. Lizzie tip toed from the room and made her way up the stairs in an eerily similar fashion to the way she kept as invisible as possible on Privet Drive.

At the top landing, Lizzie stopped at a closed door with a gold sign engraved with 'Sirius' fastened to the front at eye-level. The room was handsome and distinctly different from the rest of the house. It had also been turned over by someone who must have been looking for something. Lizzie sat down and exhaled. She tried not to think about Sirius usually. It always felt like swallowing a cup full of large ice cubes whole. It was the first time since Melody she'd truly wanted to die in the aftermath of losing somebody, just to follow him back to a home, a safe home.

Lizzie smirked at the motorcycle pictures permanently affixed to the walls, the Gryffindor banners, and the bikini clad muggle girls. She imagined him at sixteen and didn't have to think hard about what he looked like because her eyes caught a photograph of four moving young men who she already knew to be the famous marauders. She smiled at it, but the weight that her very existence had killed all but Remus made her feel nauseous.

Atop his dresser was a framed photo the intruder left untouched, Lizzie looked at her much younger self leaning over the handlebars of his motorcycle waving as he sat back, carelessly handsome and young, smirking defiantly at whoever was snapping the photo. Lizzie looked up at him with a wide smile and he put a hand on her head affectionately. She remembered this, the image had been in her head for as long as she could remember. It was always blurry and behind an opaque screen. She always assumed it was her father. That thought made her insides stick together. "He was my father," she thought, remembering she'd had him for almost as long as she had her father. Lizzie blinked back watery eyes and dropped them from the photo. On the table was a letter.

Dear Padfoot,

Thank you so much for Lizzie's birthday present. James already has her catching tiny foil wrapped chocolates in the backyard. The broom only rises about three feet, but she's a natural and Jamie quite frankly won't shut up about it. Lizzie gets excited about anything that makes him happy considering how down he's gotten being couped up like this. In full disclosure I'm a little worried she'll hit the pitch one day with only him in mind.

I'm sorry we couldn't have a larger get together like we did last year, Dumbledore advised us to stay as discrete as possible but Lizzie asks for you, Moony, and Mar Mar constantly. Wormy was here recently but he seemed down, and even Lizzie offering to play cat and mouse didn't budge a smile from him. He used to love that. I think this war is taking a toll.

James is quite right that she sleeps awful without Snuffles, I have to sing until my voice dries out and Jamie has nearly resorted to a sleeping potion on the worst of nights but always comes to his senses and brings her to our room instead. I think she's starting to get scared now that she's old enough to wonder why we can't leave the house. I'm running out of things to tell her. We made her a plush black dog in place of you but she cried it was not the same.

Remus promised he'd visit more as soon as he got back. I know that much of the burden in the Order has fallen onto you both since we've been further in hiding. I'm sorry for that.

I'll plan something for all of us soon, maybe sometime around Halloween. I think Remus gets back late October, and waiting until Christmas just feels like an eternity. In the meantime, Dumbledore has the invisibility cloak so our excursions are limited.

Bathilda visits me often, you'd like a chat with her. She absolutely dotes on Lizzie, says she's destined to be a smart one and has had near full conversations with her if you can believe it. Blows my mind how much she's grown. I find Bathilda's stories fascinating. Dumbledore had said this was his mother's cottage, but I had no idea she died here. There's a cellar that I think was permanently sealed at some point, she said his sister was ill and often violent. I found a box of old photos of them before their father was arrested and it just seems too difficult to believe. I suppose it's widely known that his father killed three muggle boys, but he's never mentioned it.

Lizzie insists they were pictures of her, makes up ridiculous names for the rest of the people in them, referred to Dumbledore and his brother as Gus Gus and Jaq Jaq but I think that's because I read her Cinderella. She thinks all the old pictures are of her. Pictures of me and Petunia, pictures of my father and his little sister, pictures of my mother... There's no use arguing with her either, she won't hear it, it's cute now, but she's going to be too stubborn for her own good at this rate, I worry. James says I worry too much. I have to say, you were beyond right that'd he'd be a great father. I've never seen something come so naturally to him. I dare say not even quidditch.

I'll stop rambling, just miss you. Come see us soon. We love you and Lizzie is blowing you kisses at this very moment. I'm enclosing a picture and a drawing she did. Please give Marlene a hug from us if she's back from her parents...'

Lizzie read through the letter at least ten times, every time she did, she felt like she was waving at her mother from a train platform, watching her roll away as she approached the end. They wrote their A's and L's the same, that made her smile.

The bottom of the page was torn, and after looking around the disheveled surroundings, Lizzie found a scribbled image of a black dog with red hair on its head. She made a face at it but laughed weakly. She then found a picture of herself zooming around on small broom in a backyard, her father chasing after her with pure joy plastered across his face.

Lizzie didn't feel an urge to weep, but her face still felt hot and her chest tight.

"Liz!" Ron shouted.

"Lizzie!" She heard Hermione chime immediately after. There were footsteps on the stairs and Hermione burst into the room lookung flushed.

"We didn't know where you were, don't do that!" Hermione said with exasperation.

"I'm...sorry," Lizzie said. "Look at this," she offered Hermione the letter. She read through it and became somber.

"Lizzie..." she said sympathetically.

"Do you know who Bathilda is? Bathilda Bagshot..." Lizzie said.

"Author of History of Magic, she's brilliant," Hermione said, gaping slightly. Ron entered and Hermione gave him the letter. The reminder that Lizzie once had a family that loved her was heavy for anyone who had since cared about her. He smiled weakly but knew the letter weighed as much as a boulder and that too Lizzie it alone was worth all the gold, he envied her having in Gringotts. He set carefully on the dresser.

"She lives in Godric's Hollow... Muriel was talking about her. Something strikes me really odd about Dumbledore's sister..." Lizzie said.

"That she was ill?" Hermione asked.

"More than that, my mom claims she was violent according to Bathilda in the letter... from what Muriel said it sounded like that cellar kept her locked up. I think she was like me... whatever those boys his father killed did..." Lizzie explained. Hermione frowned in contemplation.

"She was eleven when she died. Like most all of Riddle's girls. If she was an obscurial I'm convinced Dumbledore must have known I was all along... he'd never told me any of this. I want to know more about her. I also think there might be a horcrux in Godrics Hollow, and..." she continued a little feverishly.

"I know you want to visit them... to go back to where you had a home, but..." Hermione said.

"It's not just about that. I already went with Cedric, remember? My bones ached for days after. But I didn't have the lenses I do now, I didn't know I needed to look for anything," Lizzie retorted.

"It's the first place they'll think you'll go," Ron said. "Considering you're the most wanted person in the country, I don't think we should, Liz, unless everything else is exhausted," Ron said apologetically. Lizzie sighed and looked around the room. Hermione seemed to sense the baking heartache, the people stolen, the dreams stolen, the robbed childhood, the lost love replaced with unfathomable fear, and the time forgotten. Lizzie got up and left the room, deciding it was too much, but she stopped and stared back across the narrow hall at a door with plaque inscribed "Regulus" and wasn't sure immediately why she paused. Sirius's explanation of his younger brother joining the death eaters played like a recording and she pushed the door open on a hunch. The room was turned over as well, but in all other respects the opposite of Sirius's.

She picked up a copy of A History of Magic on his desk table and opened the cover. "This book is the property of Regulus Arcturus Black" it read. She read it three times before mouthing 'RAB' and letting out an audible gasp that got the attention of the others.

By the time they were done looking through the room for the locket during which they uncovered Voldemort's early propaganda and stacks of notes they set aside to later make sense of, Lizzie groaned in frustration.

"Wait," Hermione said, her face flushed white suddenly. "It was here," she said. "We found it two years ago. But it was thrown out when we couldn't open it... but..." she said. Lizzie had a vague recollection. She also remembered feeling astonishingly angry in this house but attributed it the circumstances in which they had brought her here in the first place.

"I...I... I remember seeing Lizzie wearing it..." Hermione said like it was difficult to recall.

"I never wore it..." she said, confused.

"One of the nights before that term started, I got up to fetch water and you were sitting on the sofa playing with it around your neck. You didn't look up when I said your name. It might have been a dream now that I think about it," Hermione said. Lizzie frowned in thought and got a strange sickening sensation in her stomach.

"Kreacher stole back many things we tried to chuck, remember? He had them in that little closet downstairs he sleeps in," Ron said. They sprang up and headed down in a hurry. Lizzie opened the closet and rummaged through the mess. As much as she despised Kreacher, this was grim and pathetic. No locket.

Ron threw something across the room in frustration. "Do you think it was already destroyed?" He asked.

"No, I don't remember it looking scathed at all," Hermione said. Lizzie closed her eyes and let out a heavy exhale, then summoned Kreacher.

"The young mistress is back," Kreacher said immediately with wide eyes. "Back in the house the young mistress wrongfully inherited with the mudblood and the blood traitor," he bickered.

"I forbid you from calling anyone mudblood or blood traitor!" She scowled.

"Two years ago, we found a locket here and threw it out, did you steal it back?" Lizzie asked sharply.

"Kreacher did," he said painfully.

"What happened to it?" She asked, now hopeful.

"It's gone... Kreacher saw the thief take it," he said, looking horrified.

"Who was the thief?" Ron interjected quickly. Kreacher frowned at Ron.

"Answer him!" Lizzie yelled with a reproachful look back from Hermione in return.

"Mundungus Fletcher," Kreacher replied reluctantly.

Lizzie pulled out two chairs from the kitchen table, sat backwards in one, and pointed to the other. "Sit," she ordered rather coldly and watched the elf obey despite hating her almost as much as she hated him.

"What do you know about the locket, about both lockets, start from the beginning about how Regulus came to be in possession of this," she ordered.

The elf's eyes were wide and forlorn. "The locket master Regulus had belonged to Hercules Black. It was passed down to daughters or sons to pass to daughters for hundreds of years but stopped at Hercules who would not give it to his daughter. He gave it to Kreacher's mistress, his favorite neice, and she gave it to master Regulus to pass on when master Sirius ran away. Good riddance. He broke my mistress's heart..." Kreacher explained.

"When master Regulus was sixteen, he joined the Dark Lord, so proud, he was so proud to serve. Miss Bella had joined; Miss Cissy's husband was high ranked. Master Regulus was so proud to serve," Kreacher said fondly. Lizzie rolled her eyes reproachfully. "A year after master Regulus joined, he called on Kreacher and told Kreacher that the Dark Lord required an elf," he continued. "He said to go with him, follow every order, but to come home," he added. Lizzie watched the impossibly large eyes goes very dark.

"The Dark Lord took Kreacher to ca-cave, and beyond the cave was a cavern and a large la-ake," he said. Lizzie iced over at the memory. "We passed the lake in a small boat, and at the center of the lake was an island and a pedestal with a potion. The Dark Lord made Kreacher drink the potion, all the potion, and then dropped in a locket. It looked almost just like Master Regulus's locket. Kreacher watched him refill the potion and sail away. Kreacher saw a lil girl, she was dead, Kreacher thought she was - her, and she pointed to the lake. Kreacher was so thirsty he could die, so Kreacher drank from the Black Lake and hands dragged him under..." he said between heaves of panicked breath.

"How did you get out?" Lizzie asked in a whisper, remembering the girl and remembering being dragged down herself.

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come ho-home," he said. Lizzie was confused.

"You could apparate in that cavern?" Ron asked. Kreacher nodded.

"Then what, Kreacher?" Lizzie asked.

"Then I told my master Regulus about the cave, about the locket that looked like the Black locket, about the - the little girl that looked like - like," he was crying now.

"Like whom?" Lizzie asked.

"E-E" he said. "We don't say her name," he gasped.

"Emily?" Lizzie asked, knowing already which girl yielded the locket horcrux, but wondering how on earth they could have possibly known who she was. He shook his head fervently.

"ESTRELLA," he said finally. "She was dead and hor-rible looking. Kreacher could not tell but that is who came to mind, Kreacher should not have told Master Regulus!" He shrieked. Lizzie was confused, there was no Estrella she'd been aware of.

Kreacher hobbled into the drawing room and pointed to the tapestry, directly at the only one with both the name and the face burned off. Lizzie frowned. "Master Hercules's daughter," he said. "Squib! Disgusting squib!" He spat.

"Kreacher!" Lizzie yelled in response. He was banging himself hard against the wall and she snatched him up by the cloth he was wearing to stop him.

"Master Regulus was mad with suspicion. He held up in his bedroom for hours a day until sometime, many months later, after he had seen Master Sirius again since they left school, Master Regulus asked for Kreacher's help. Kreacher took Master Regulus to the cave, and he brought Hercules's locket..." he said. Lizzie's insides felt tightly glued together.

"Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to go home and destroy the locket in the basin, he drank all of the potion, switched the locket, told Kreacher never to tell my mistress what he had done, and then Kreacher watched the girl point to the water and ... the hands ... pull... him under..." Kreacher was sobbing hysterically. Lizzie's heart pounded furiously.

"Kreacher did not follow orders! No matter what Kreacher did, he could not destroy it! My mistress was mad with grief, died from grief! Her eldest imprisoned, her youngest missing. Not one son to pass on the name! Kreacher could not tell her why! Kreacher could not tell her!" He sobbed.

Hermione was crying too and Lizzie blinked back a thin stream of tears as well.

"So Regulus thought this girl was... Estrella, why?" Lizzie asked.

Kreacher rocked back and forth and mumbled incoherently.

"I'm surprised at you... after that you still betrayed us to Voldemort?" Lizzie asked bitterly.

"LIZZIE!" Hermione said. "Kreacher does not think that, and Sirius was awful to him!"

"But was I?!" Lizzie retorted. "I was tortured for nine days! Irreparably cursed! Raped! Sirius died to get me back, all because Kreacher betrayed him!" Her anger was climbing. "Meanwhile his master died defying Voldemort! The creep tore his family apart, left Kreacher there to die!"

Kreacher rocked still more deliberately. "For God's sake, Lizzie, they're elves! You of all people know damn well what it's like to be shut up in a closet! You know what it's like to not have permission to do anything beyond being of service to others. You at least had spite and resolve, they don't! I'm sure Miss Bella and Miss Cissy were perfectly kind to Kreacher knowing he knew about the Order. He wanted a sliver of affection after all those years alone..." she said defensively.

Lizzie shook her head and buried fists into her hair. "Kreacher, I need you to find Mundungus Fletcher and bring him here, can you do that?" She asked. He nodded. Lizzie pulled the fake locket from the pocket of her cardigan and held it out for him. "You should have this," she said to the elf.

"No!" He screamed. "It belongs to the BLACK family... it belongs to..." but he cried again. "You!" He yelled reproachfully.

"Sirius would have never given me this. He despised this family. Regulus would want you to have it," Lizzie said. The elf was beside himself but took it. "Bring Fletcher back here, Kreacher, we can finish what Regulus started," she said and with a shred of mustered resolve, he apparated.

Lizzie left the room without a word and went back up the stairs to Regulus's room. She smoothed out the bed and spread his notes across feverishly. "Locket - Hercules" one read. "Not another one known of in family."

"Inferi... potion...cavern..." she mumbled as she read through the chicken scratches on most. There was a clipping of a Voldemort article reading that he was the only known wizard to claim to surmount death without the use of the elixir of life.

"Estrella... sent away, found dead. Perceus's widow... squib child..." another note said cryptically. "How did he know?" Was written with several underlines at the bottom.

Lizzie searched for pictures of Estrella but found none. Then she found "year born and died, unknown, but approx twelve-yrs-old" on the back of another sheet of parchment.

"Noble house lockets, Slytherin, Black, Lestrange..." was written on another. Nothing made sense, all they were able to gather was that Regulus and Kreacher thought the girl in the cavern was Estrella, his great uncle's squib daughter.

"Riddle got the locket from Hepzibah Smith, he killed her and her niece Amelia Smith. Made the cup first and then later made the locket when he killed Emily. That I know..." Lizzie said definitively.

"Hepzibah obtained the locket from Borgin because Merope sold it to him before going to the orphanage to give birth. She was directly related to Hufflepuff and had the heirloom cup... so I don't know where Estrella fits in unless there's another horcrux we are not aware of. That girl in the cavern though, I thought she looked like me, but she was decayed, and I've seen that before. It could have been any of them, they all seemed to resemble each other, they all could have passed for a sister or a cousin of Leah in looks..." she reasoned.

"You think Estrella was a seventh then?" Ron asked.

"I don't know. No... well... I don't know. I think Kreacher would have seen something he dreaded under the influence of that potion. If it's true they disowned her, or perhaps the family killed her for being a squib... maybe it was resurfaced guilt. Dumbledore cried and begged when he drank it. He apologized to someone, he was overcome with guilt and dread. He may have seen his sister had he looked at the girl in the cavern, but I don't think he noticed her. I just don't know where this fits in..." Lizzie continued, shaking her head in frustration.

"That's probably it. It was probably Emily as inferi. He took her organs but left her body, right?" Hermione added.

"Leah hung. Myrtle stayed intact and her family took her. Renee burned. Nora was buried then excavated. Milly was cut up. Emily was harvested. Adrianna was transformed. Christopher said Emily lost her eyes though. The girl in the cavern had eyes... so Nora, maybe. It could have been anyone if he turned her into an inferi, maybe he went back to Albania later than I initially thought to obtain her body. These visions are all fragmented... and the girl was very decayed," Lizzie said, thinking out loud.

"Or it was Estrella, and there's another..." Ron said. Lizzie let out an exhale like a bull and let her eyes dart over all the sprawled out pages again.

"Jamie's daughter," was written in the corner of one concealed under a newspaper clipping. There was a single page letter written in a messier man's scrawl.

"Sirius,

If I don't see you again before the baby is born, we want you to be godfather, if you'd accept obviously. Lily is convinced it's a girl and I think she's right.

Mum and dad passing and Lily's parents following have really spooked us on family. She has been reaching out to Petunia to no avail, certain her husband is blocking their contact. She got a birth announcement for their son, but no follow-up since. He did not even let them speak at their parents' funeral. Poor things died just days apart. Lily insisted I sit it out because they are so hostile. You're my brother, always my brother. We know you'd do everything for her.

We will be living in London for a short span until she's born. Come see us soon, only a matter of weeks until she's here.

Love, Jamie."

"How would Regulus have known?" Lizzie asked. "How did he get this?"

"Kreacher said they saw each other. You would have already been born though," Hermione said, just as confused.

"Maybe he wanted to ask him about Estrella. Maybe Sirius let slip he was hunting you, tried to bring him back over... it's hard to convince anyone to side with someone who has been murdering small girls, isn't it?" Ron reasoned. Lizzie was still extremely confused. She retreated into Sirius's room alone and sat down on the bed, head reeling in pain first, then her scar. Thorfin and Dolohov... punishments for not capturing her. She laid back and stared at the ceiling trying to keep her mind intact and her eyes locked shut. He didn't attack her, nothing writhed. Screams died out and the room was still again. Hermione stared from the doorway silently, absorbing the gravity cautiously before lying down next to her in some gesture of kind solidarity.