The light grows and takes on shades of color. Hermione focuses on the memory, observing as her own form begins to take shape again and glow, just like his. She smiles—and feels it happen. She has a face again. She doesn’t need a mirror to see what she looks like; somehow she can be in two places at once now and look upon herself as she is, without needing a reflection. Her appearance is more beautiful and yet more terrible than the one in the memory, but it seems fitting for it to be so.