The chattering of mid-morning crowds filtered down to the base of the acropolis, by the time Hermione began to near the furthest rows. They all appeared to be hastily gauged from the stone, some not even engraved with names. The stones varied in height, as did those previous. The taller the stone, the longer the life, it appeared, as she observed one obelisk that stretched far above her, its owner, a wizard who had died at the age of two-hundred and seventy-five. This was the last of the tall stones, for in front of her; rows, and rows, and  rows  of short stones. Poorly hewn, sharpened or cracked in some areas. 