For Hermione was much older, asleep right now, but glowing under the influence of a containment ward. She was being spelled to deep unconsciousness. Harry threw a punch at the one pointing his wand at her, but his spectral fist passed right through Ron Weasley's ginger fucking head. Harry tried again, just in case. But it was useless. Then a voice spoke ... and the sharp pitch chilled Harry right to the marrow of his bones.