Hermione materialised again in front of him. Older, maybe by a couple of years. She was sat on a bed again, but it wasn't Hogwarts. Harry didn't recognise the neatly ordered room around her. Hermione was holding her wand in shaking fingers, aiming it at a book. It was like she was trying to cast a spell at it, but couldn't remember the incantation or wand-movement. In any case, the attempted spell was disrupted with every swish by a shrill spitting sound next to her.