"I didn't think that much about it. I thought it was just a corridor that was a little too dark. I had a mirror, too. I didn't think anything would happen." She paused. "I'm sorry. I made you worry."
Harry looked at her, his eyes red, but he did not cry. His hand lifted from the edge of the bed, as though he wanted to touch Hermione's hand, but his fingers stopped just before they reached the back of hers. He did not touch her. He drew his hand back and placed it on his lap.
"Don't be alone anymore." His voice was so low that it sounded like a secret only he could hear.
Hermione looked at him for several seconds. "Okay."
Professor Sprout was busy harvesting Mandrake roots in the Greenhouse. The uprooted roots were piled in the corner like a heap of wrinkled, grayish-green little old men that were still squirming. She picked them up one by one, shook off the dirt, wrapped them in damp cloth, and placed them in a large ceramic jar.
The jar was so large that she had to stand on tiptoe to see its mouth. She sealed it, tied it tight with rope, attached a label, and placed it at the very back of the storeroom. The storeroom was dark and windowless, with only a magical lamp on the wall, covered by an iron grate and giving off a dim yellow light.
She put the jar in the corner beside several buckets of dragon dung fertilizer that had been fermenting for over a month. The smell was pungent. She frowned but did not cover her nose.
She locked the door and slipped the key into her pocket.
Outside Nirvana Research Center's London shop, more wizards were lining up than before. It