One of the exterior walls had been replaced with an obsidian slab, stretching through the archways. Carved into it in white lettering were the names of Hogwarts students, staff, and alumni who had died in the Second Wizarding War.

They moved towards it, and Hermione's feet froze. Standing at the end of the wall, running her fingertips over the etched names, was Ginny. She wore a black dress with trainers, her hair only a bit longer since Hermione had seen it last.

Ginny turned, and her eyes widened as they landed on her. Hermione felt weightless as they closed the space between them, throwing their arms around each other. She felt less fragile than last time. Hermione sank into her warmth, holding her close.

"Ginny." Her throat felt thick. "I'm sorry I've been late in replying—"

"Don't be silly. You've been busy, I know."

When they pulled back, Ginny looked past her ear.

"Hello, Parkinson."

"Weasley," said Pansy, her tone almost pleasant. She pushed up her wide black sunglasses and turned her attention to the names on the wall, drifting away from them.

Ginny threaded her arm through Hermione's and guided her to the slab of stone she'd been tracing earlier. Her family's names were etched in white, grouped with other 'W' surnames.

"Half of us gone in a year," she said. "Most days, I carry it. Others..."

Hermione squeezed her elbow, feeling her throat close. "It means something. That you're still here."

They stood in silence for a time. And then Ginny said, "I'm sorry to hear about Zabini."

Hermione shrugged. "It was the best we could have hoped for."

"Still." Ginny glanced at her. "You should have seen George's face when he read that Draco Malfoy killed Bellatrix Lestrange for you."

Before Hermione could think of a reply, Ginny was steering her to the other side of the wall. She caught sight of Fleur and Bill by the old fountain, speaking to Seamus Finnigan. A group of witches turned to stare at her as she walked past. Hermione tore her eyes away, focusing on Penelope Clearwater in the courtyard. She stood next to Percy Weasley and Roger Davies, her gaze distant as they chatted.

They filed past rows of black-clad mourners — some weeping, others whispering. They were almost at the other end of the wall when a girl spun to Ginny, catching her by the arm. A former classmate.

Hermione slipped away as they embraced. Her eyes were just drifting over the "A's" when someone came to stand next to her.

"Granger." Hermione turned, and the air left her lungs. The right side of Seamus Finnigan's face was burned, his marred skin stretching down his neck and arm. Her eyes quickly flicked back to his.

"Hello, Seamus," she said quietly, but she already knew it was pointless.

She'd written every surviving member in her class by now, and the list was short enough to notice those who never replied.

"I hear you're in bed with the snakes these days."