It was nighttime based on the darkness in the corridor. Impossible to see the face of the person in the doorway, Hermione could only tell that at least they weren't as massive as the Death Eaters that threw her in there to begin with. Maybe she might have at least some chance against them in a physical contest. Muttering lumos, the end of their wand erupted into a ball of light. When she saw the familiar features that belonged to her son Oliver staring back at her, she wasn't sure what to believe. Even when his face split into the wide grin that was so like his father's, Hermione didn't think she could trust her own eyes. She could've just imagined him into existence, dimples and everything. A glance just over his shoulder showed the transparent form of Fred Weasley hovering in the corridor watching the scene unfold. Had he gone to find her son where he should've been tucked in his bed inside Gryffindor Tower? No, it wasn't possible.