His eyes fell instead on the girl next to Krum. His jaw dropped.
It was Hermione. But she didn't look like Hermione at all.
She had done something with her hair; it was no longer bushy
but sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the
back of her head. She was wearing robes made of a floaty,
periwinkle-blue material, and she was holding herself
differently somehow - or maybe it was the absence of the
twenty or so books she usually had slung over her back.
That is the saddest giraffe I’ve ever seen.