It was much the same, really. The fish didn’t supply their own light source, and the colours didn’t ripple gently through the water, shimmering rainbows trailing in the waves, but—they were bright, and quick, flashing gold and neon and forming a rainbow all their own, darting, alive. The room was still dim, and Hermione hadn’t considered the challenge of stabbing a tiny needle through tiny holes in fabric without a bright light available to her.