Her brain raced as her feet pounded thumpingly on the wet lawn, the tree line growing quickly closer. There were others besides George beside her, and more behind her, and she hoped desperately that no one had gotten left behind. Hermione crashed with arms outstretched into a tree, the bark rough on her face and hands as she used it to break her headlong rush, sliding around it with fingers scrabbling at the bark to stop her from sling-shotting madly away from it. The jagged bark scraped her fingertips painfully, leathers making a rasping, slithering sound as she swung around the tree trunk. And then she was peering from behind the wide trunk, wand up and ready, except there were still people in the way, getting between her and the "wolves.