The realm expanded seemingly without end. Craggy canyons and hoar-frosted peaks soared into the haze of clouds. Vast plains of grayed grasses and waterweed edged lakes. Copses of twisted, blackened trees that creaked and sighed in the breeze. And over it all, a milky haze that dulled the details into dreamlike unreality. It was no mirror of the Mortal Realm, and lacked the gem-bright brilliant gleam of Heaven, but the charred or frozen wasteland Hermione expected never materialized. 