"No," said Harry. "You see, I didn't remain on my own on the train for very long. My mother appeared from another carriage ... one further down the train, one I couldn't see into because it was so cloudy and milky. She was so beautiful, Hermione. I was mesmerised by her. I just looked at her face, her gorgeous smile, for the longest time. It might have been months, just staring at her. I couldn't look enough. And it was the real her, not the dark copy Dumbledore had trapped in the Resurrection Stone.