The powerful, silver light against her eyelids felt like a million fingernails scratching a million blackboards. That was Hermione’s first thought upon regaining consciousness. The second one was the altogether cruel realisation that she possessed a body that could be made to feel pain. Quite a vast amount of it. Every fibre of her being was screaming with the sheer intensity of it. Blinding, all-encompassing pain. Cold sweat. Nausea. Shivers. Vertigo. She was coming down from her high. And from somewhere outside the confines of her mind, a vaguely familiar voice was talking. Yelling? Trying to attract attention at any rate. With an almost superhuman effort, she managed to open her eyes. 