Hermione's breath caught sharply in her lungs at this first sight of Harry, alive, breathing, living not twelve feet from where Hermione was standing, frozen in place by the very impossible-ness of the vision. He was wearing a long, dark emerald robe with a deep hood that totally covered his head and face, but she knew unquestionably that it was Harry, as though his very presence had its own vibration. She fought hard to blink back tears. She didn't want to cry like a weak little girl ... but just the sight of him sitting there was enough to shatter her very world.