She squared her shoulders and headed off.  The route was long enough that she'd started to think she'd somehow missed the painting when she heard a horrible screech and stopped, her heart pounding with sudden fear.  It sounded like a baby screaming in pain. Her hands shook and she couldn't breathe and she backed up until the wall braced her and a picture frame jabbed into her neck.  The sound came again and it was right above her head. She spun, mindlessly terrified, and a painted peacock fastened a beady eye on her and let out another raucous cry.  The woman holding the bird struggled to keep it in her grasp and smiled somewhat apologetically at Hermione before hissing what might have been, "Bad bird.  Bad."