There was one other problem, of course. But the impossibility of it staggered her. Even though the True Order had risked dozens of lives in a rescue mission in the hopes that she could help them with it.

Contrary to what Cho and Viktor might have thought, she had no clue what else she had to offer the True Order in destroying Voldemort. Her mind was valuable, yes, but she'd already passed the most critical information she possessed on that subject to Ginny and Charlotte. And by extension, the True Order.

The only other thing that was niggling at her brain was behind Lucius Malfoy's closed study door.

Her feet wandered down the corridor on their own accord, turning the corner and taking her in the direction of study. Her heart skipped as she neared the door, her mind buzzing with the thrill of a new problem. Lucius might have left a clue about the attack on Canada behind that door. If only she could access it.

On instinct, Hermione pressed her ear against the wood, listening carefully for the scratching of a quill or the clink of ice against glass. She reached out to try the handle, knowing it was useless—

The handle warmed beneath her touch, and turned.

She gaped down at the brass. With a shove, she sent the door open wide. A flame sprang to life in the lamp on the wall, charmed by magic. She stepped as close as she could to the location of the invisible barrier by memory, peering at the items on his desk. She rose on her toes, squinting and craning her neck — and stumbled forward.

Flinching, Hermione caught herself, her heart thumping in her ears. She looked down at her feet and gasped. She'd landed well-past the door frame.

The barrier had disappeared — the one that kept her from entering the study.

Peeking her head out the door, she looked both ways along the corridor. Upon seeing not even an elf, she spun around and darted inside.

Lucius's desk was organized, pristine, and bare. There were no notes or trinkets on the polished wood, besides a small frame of a much younger Narcissa, grinning shyly at the photographer and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Hermione looked over his shelves, spying the empty Foe Glass, and drew a sharp breath, trying to decide where she might hide something important if she were Lucius Malfoy.

Something shimmered across the room, and her heart jumped in her throat. Her shoulders relaxed as her eyes focused on the culprit — a small silver lock sealing an ornate cabinet. The skin on the back of her neck prickled.

If she were Lucius Malfoy, that's where she'd hide something.

She drew out the drawers in Lucius's desk, rifling through them and searching for the keys. When she found nothing, she approached the cabinet and stared down at the lock. After attempting a wandless Alohomora, she pressed her fingers to her lips, thinking through any other options she had.