The silence in the air of Recuperation Room, on the palace's second floor, was palpably thick. It sat heavy and unmoving, like the stifling, arid dryness of a breezeless day in the middle of a heatwave. Hermione felt it settle on her like a suffocating weight. She watched Arianwen help Enola to sit up in bed as she stirred, fluffing her daughter's pillows and checking her over with a swift series of diagnostic spells. Enola frowned and cast an anxious look around, batting away her mother's attention. She looked first at Hermione, and then at Neville who, for probably the first time in hours, had torn his concerned attention away from her.