Hermione stared at the witch who had let herself into their sanctuary.  She knew it was rude but she couldn't help herself.  This had to be Clotilda.  The witch was older than she would have expected, with grey hair tied up under a green pointed hat that didn't dare to sag.  Her chin was pointed, her nose hooked, and a wart with a hair poking out of it sat on the tip of that nose with defiant aggression.  Hermione had never seen a witch look more like a character out of a muggle storybook.  She'd packed an enormous bosom into a tight green dress that had somehow combined an a-line skirt and a bustle into one fashion statement.  Black-tighted legs ended in green stilettos that surely no one could walk in.