Hermione couldn't help but give a hoarse laugh (otherwise she might cry) as she gave Neville's hand a squeeze. "I look all right, don't I? Reckon I'm not easy to kill. If I were a cat I'd be on my fifth or sixth life by now." Perhaps that botched polyjuice she'd ingested during her second year had long lasting effects?

"So what do you think? Anything that strikes you as definite foliage-related foul play?"