She sees nothing but the guards" victims sprawled on the floor, the ones who had been beaten, and the one who was raped. She crawls forward, feeling bile rise sour and bitter in her throat, and stares through the bars at the pile of bodies – seven or eight of them, heaped high and smouldering with flame. The smoke is thick and stinks, mostly chasing up the vent in the ceiling, but tendrils fall away and seep through the air, gradually filling it with the smell of roasting flesh. Hermione's hand clamps over her mouth as she stares, horrified. A pale hand in the pile twitches, and she chokes and whirls away, hiding her face in her hands. She can't...she can't...