And she saw them in the clear green sunlit water, inches below the surface, a chorus of merpeople singing in a strange language she did not understand, their pallid faces rippling, their purplish hair flowing all around them. The music made the hair on Hermione's neck stand up and yet it was not unpleasant. It spoke very clearly of loss and of despair. As she looked down into the wild faces of the singers she had the feeling that they, at least, were sorry for Dumbledore's passing.