Hermione surveyed her captor for ill intent, eyes narrowed in suspicion. A man sat mere yards from where she'd lain unconscious, legs crossed and balancing on a large rock. His age was clearly defined by the wrinkles and wide smile that adorned his face and his body sat perfectly still, as though a statue etched from his perch and sculpted into the likeness of a man. Hermione narrowed her eyes, he was a monk, if his style of dress was anything to go by.