Hermione put her glass down and scoured the room. The light was dimming now, the library dull and gloomy in the twilight of the evening. She should have raised the lights. As she thought this, the room slowly lit up, as though the house was responding to her command. Or could Harry hear her, and was giving her what she needed. That was interesting. It stilled Hermione's panic a moment, only to stir it again as she considered the implications. Maybe Harry was some sort of ghost, haunting her and only able to interact with her in this basic sort of way.