He wouldn't be the first man to call her wand a stick, and she's struck with a sense of amusement, nostalgia and fondness at the memory of it. She recovers quickly from it, to mask it with a smile. "I am, rather," she quips in acquiescence, and follows im up onto the stepping stone.

" - a Templar checking in?" she has time to ask, brain and ears finally catching up with what he's been saying, and then there is a shimmering gold light that manifests itself ahead and interrupts that whole conversation.

Now, Hermione has been around spirits and ghosts in some form for the better part of - god, a decade now? - so since she's not seeing the similarities between the spirit and those demons that fell out of the rift with her the first day, she assumes the same strategy as against Hogwarts ghosts will do.

Addressing the spirit, in the snippiest do you know who I am voice,

"I beg your pardon? Knave? Rather rude of you to make those baseless accusations." She has, however, halted. Hands on her hips, getting ready to scold the manners of an ancient spirit.