Hermione stepped close to Harry. He was resplendent in an elegantly embroidered ceremonial robe of deep gold, that he had conjured from somewhere. It was positively dripping in his own magical force, as though it had recorded every piece of magic he'd ever done and trapped its residual power. Hermione had never felt the like before. She was almost certain that, if he was so inclined, Harry could unleash the energy trapped within as though it were a deadly weapon.