Apparating from behind the stones in the open with muggles about was a horrible idea, but Hermione couldn't muster up to say so because as Harry started directing her, and then Ron seemed to catch on, it finally dawned on her what the woman had been saying.
Dead. Murdered. They and the children. She had a sudden flash of her neighbors playing in their back garden with them. She could look down from her bedroom window and see over the fence, and while she'd been reading in the windowseat she would, sometimes, when she'd read for so long that her eyes began to cross.
Murdered.
And suddenly it all clicked, and she understood why. And when.
"Oh God," She whispered to herself, and her voice... sounded like her voice. Not the manly voice it had been for the last hour. The Polyjuice was wearing off.