Herian glances to the rifter girl, eyebrow quirking very slightly, before she draws a clean handkerchief from a leather pouch on her belt, and holds it out to her in silence. She moves with a certain degree of severity, but there is a little more gentleness in it, now. The handkerchief smells slightly of lavender, to soothe and to ease, and at the very least to suppress all the other smells that seem to cling to the very stone. Her hand rests on Hermione's shoulder for just a moment, before she steps closer to the door again.

A precaution, and she hopes it is an unnecessary one, but while the others rightfully focus on the child, she listens carefully to make sure there are no unexpected, unwelcome arrivals coming to join them.