The walls vibrated again at that. Neville ducked on instinct, but Harry's magic merely throbbed around Hermione. It felt gentler, as if trying to dissuade her from this course. But there was something needy there, too. It was an element of Harry that Hermione had felt once before ... that part that desperately needed and wanted help, but could never lower itself to ask for it. It was the part she always imagined herself hugging when she embraced him, that part so deep, so wounded, that it had to be sought out to comfort. It was the part that Hermione knew, if she ever managed to heal it, would make Harry properly righted. It spoke to her now.