Arthur says "Why would a witch that lives a house out of gingerbread, cake, and cookies need to eat children?"

"Well, I don't think it is real…just a kid's story. But I suppose, except for it being a plot device, it could be to get some balance in her diet… Plus, eating parts of her house could make it structurally unsound." Kyra explains.

There is a strong gust of wind and the Burrow creaks and groans in response. Arthur listens and looks around then with amusement says "I see your point."

Arthur grows serious. "In the short time you've been here, you have threatened Amanda and have never been unarmed. What is it like to live like that?"

Kyra ponders. "I threatened Amanda, but I knew it was unlikely that she would fight. Not that she isn't brave and talented…I've heard she challenged Adam…but because the reward wasn't worth the risk." With a wink, Kyra adds "She's not in my class." Growing serious again she says "For all but one of us, it ends the same way… 'And suddenly, one of those who were with Jesus stretched out his hand and drew his sword, struck the servant of the high priest, and cut off his ear. Then Jesus said to him, 'Put your sword in its place, for all who take the sword will perish by the sword.' Matthew 26:51-52" Kyra turns away to look at nothing in particular.

Arthur gets his courage up and asks "Then, why take up the sword?"

Continuing to look away, Kyra answers in a voice barely above a whisper "Because I haven't the courage not to."

Arthur watches Kyra. Finally she continues "He did not say that not taking up the sword would prevent one from perishing by it. Many mortals have died because they depended upon others or on the belief that bad things would not be visited upon good people."

"Like Grace?" Arthur asks.

"She may be the bravest of us all, and the most worthy of the Prize, but her fate is inevitable." Kyra then grimly adds "As is the fate of whoever takes her head…though she would not want that."

After another long pause, she concludes "Most of us fight to live rather than live to fight. We can live for millennia, but are always a few minutes from death…"

Tonks nervously follows Ceirdwyn toward where Ceirdwyn believes Alex Raven took Cayleigh. Tonks' hand rests on the grip of her wand tucked into her belt. Molly follows close behind them also ready to draw her wand. Unseen, a tiny witch sneaks along by scampering from tree to tree staying out of the sight of her elders with her fake wand.

In the hospital wing at Hogwarts, Grace examines some of the material Alexa has coughed up with a large magnifying glass. She says to Jeanette "I wish we had a microscope to be sure, but I believe we can confirm the diagnosis from her chart."

Grace goes to Alexa and removes a pulse oximeter from her finger and records the readings. She says to Poppy "Her blood oxygen levels have improved."

"That device told you that?" Poppy asks.

"Qui"

"I could have told you that without it. Her color is better."

Grace smiles. She is also highly attuned to her patients' visual clues, but she also wants it backed up by hard scientific data. "Qui. She does."

Alexa's coughing slows. Grace listens to her breathing. "Much improved, but not yet what we'd like."

She may need several doses." Poppy notes.

"She is becoming exhausted. She will need a rest." Grace says with concern and Poppy nods.

Poppy gets out her wand to petrify Alexa again. Grace shakes her head. "Let's let her breathe on her own…at least for a while to build up her strength. Jeanette and I can watch her…if you want to prepare the next dose or check on the student with the sour stomach."

"Yes, but…" Poppy looks to Jeanette "…if she grows weak or begins to struggle… use the petrification spell." Glancing back to Grace before returning to Jeanette, Poppy adds "But make certain that she will be comfortable and prepares herself first."

Between coughs, Alexa chokes out "Thank you."

Hermione says quietly to Harry and Ron "This isn't for us. We should go."

Adam hears her and goes to them. "It is because of you three…and all of those here…"

Crabbe hollers "Not because of us Slytherins!"

Jeanette steps to Crabbe's bed. "Roll over." Drawing her wand, she explains "It is time to turn your intestines inside out." Crabbe pales. "I should put down a tarp first. This always makes such a mess."

"I'm feeling much better." Crabbe stammers.

"Really? A good purging can do wonders. Twenty-one feet of intestines inside out and rinsed… Best not to look… Shoving them back in…not so pleasant…but great afterwards…or so they tell me." Jeanette pulls the privacy screen over. "On your tummy…"

"No! NO!" Crabbe cries. Jeanette scowls and wags her wand back and forth. "I feel better." Crabbe gets out of the bed and puts on his robe. "Really… I am." Crabbe heads for the door quicker than one would expect for someone of his bulk.

Ron giggles. Hermione glares at him as Harry struggles not to laugh. Hermione sees him. "Really? Both of you?" Hermione scolds.

"You can do that?" Grace asks.

"Yes… but it isn't pleasant during or after… so they tell me." Jeanette explains, tapping her wand playfully on her cheek.

"What do muggle doctors do?" Poppy asks.

"They run a hose up there…and rinse." Adam explains with a mischievous grin and demonstrative hand gestures.

"Really?" Poppy recoils.

"Yes, yes they do." Jeanette confirms.

"How barbaric." Poppy observes. Jeanette nods. "It is disgusting." Poppy adds and Jeanette nods again.

Ceirdwyn, closely followed by Tonks and Molly, encounter Cayleigh and Alex as the latter are headed back to where the bike is parked. Seeing the look on Ceirdwyn's face, Alex gleefully says "Were you worried about us?"

Ceirdwyn nods.

Grinning, Alex Raven explains "We were talking about Boudicca and I told her that she died by her own hand after she saw her two daughters were killed. She asked where that happened, so I brought her for a history lesson. She seems to have a fascination with the whole rebel women vibe." Cayleigh nods sheepishly. "Wait, did you think I brought her here to put her to the sword?"

"The thought did cross my mind." Ceirdwyn admits.

At Ollivanders, the bell over the door jingles as the door is opened. Garrick Ollivander grumpily slides the labelled and boxed wand he'd just finished after a long night's work into its spot in in the second tier of the huge rack. He pushes the rolling library ladder so it and he move toward the counter to see who has entered to interrupt his anticipated breakfast. The school year having started a couple of months earlier, this was normally a quiet time of year for him. He still needed to produce wands at night as there were steps during which no interruption could be tolerated, but he could nap during the slow day. As the ladder stops, he sees an oddly dressed, to his eye, man looking about with great curiosity. "How may I be of service?"

The man looks at him with curiosity as a slight smile develops. But he says nothing.

"Do you need a wand? I can assure you that ours are the finest…"

"I don't use a wand."

Mr. Ollivander is confused. "All we sell here are wands and wand accessories…" As the man continues to look around as if he's never seen a shop like this, a queasy feeling begins in his gut. "Is there something else I can do for you?"

"I just thought we should meet."

"Why…?"

"We are fellow craftsmen."

The queasy feeling makes a quantum jump. "This may be an odd question to ask…" Mr. Ollivander pauses. "How old are you?"

"Ironic that you should ask. The year of my birth, as near as I can determine, is on the front of your shop."

The queasy feeling is replaced by ice. "382 B.C.?" He stammers.

"…as near as I can determine." The man restates.

"So, you're…" Olivander begins, the man cocks his head "an…Old One?"

"That is what my customers tell me your people call us…when they are being polite." Ollivander gasps slightly as his suspicion is confirmed. "They say other things behind their backs…You and I come from different peoples, but we are brothers."

"Brothers?"

"Well, not in the literal sense…but we both practice our crafts which our peoples rely upon… I've been doing it a bit longer than you, but not your family, but other than that…" The man shrugs.

"Where is your shop"?

"Around the corner…" The man answers. Garrick glances to the window and door. He notices multiple wizards and witches looking in while trying not to be seen doing so. Garrick's face pales. His visitor has been noticed.

"Why now?"

"Why not?" He responds with a shrug, before continuing "I recently met a young witch. It gave me hope and started me thinking…" Noticing the increased pedestrian traffic outside he says "Can you show me what you do?"

Mr. Ollivander nods blankly. Where should he begin to explain the process to one with no understanding of magic? But he motions for the man to follow him to his workshop and away from the public. As they walk, he says "I am Garrick. What shall I call you?"

"I've had many names. But you may call me Ferrarius."

Garrick pauses. "Latin for blacksmith?"

"Just so."

Garrick shows Ferrarius several wands in various stages of construction and explains in superficial terms about the types of woods and cores. He concludes saying "In the end, the wand chooses the wizard."

Ferrarius has been listening carefully. "So, the combination produces a total which exceeds the sum of the parts…the wielder being one of the parts…"

Garrick is astounded. Never has a witch or wizard ever considered that they themselves were part of the whole. He nods.

Garrick asks "Can you show me something you have made?" Ferrarius removes his sword from under his coat, places it upon Garrick's work bench and steps back. Garrick approaches it carefully.

"It won't bite." Ferrarius says with a grin. "It is sharp, but you work with knives and chisels so that should not be a problem."

Garrick admires the workmanship of the handle, guard, and pommel. But then his eye catches small imperfections in the cutting edge of blade of all places. Garrick glances to Ferrarius in confusion. "I've had to file out some damage to relieve stress." Ferrarius explains.

"Damage?"

Ferrarius nods.

"From hitting something?"

"Other swords…"

At first Garrick thinks it is from mishandling in storage, but then another possibility creeps in. "You have…used…this…" He stops. Seeing the look on Garrick's face Ferrarius nods slowly. "You weren't practicing…were you?" Ferrarius slowly shakes his head. "You are here so, they are…"

"Dead." Ferrarius says finishing the sentence Garrick feared to. Garrick pales. "What I create and trade in have but one use. They differ because of the style their wielder prefers to use… From what you have said, wands can be made to be better in the type of magic their owner prefers to practice. But for us, the intent is always the same."

Garrick changes the topic. "I don't recall ever seeing you in the Alley?"

"My turn, how old are you?" Ferrarius asks with a grin.

"I'm well into my eighties…"

"You were likely a toddler the last time I came out." Ferrarius' statement takes the matter of his age from the abstract into the real.

Ferrarius adds "You do great wood work… Do you ever have need of work done in metal?"

Before Garrick can answer, the bell over the entry door rings indicating a new customer has arrived. "One moment" Garrick says heading for the show room. Ferrarius follows well behind.

"Ahh… Mr. Malfoy… A pleasure sir. How may I be of service?"

"Garrick…" Lucius Malfoy says in his cold superior manner. "I require a small container of wand wax." Garrick puts a small tin on the counter and Malfoy takes it. "Would you be so kind as to put this on my account." While the wording is a question, the tone of voice is one of command. Garrick nods.

Ferrarius appears at the library ladder. Malfoy looks at him as if he were excrement. "Garrick, there are some… unusual people about. Be sure you do not violate Ministry rules about revealing…things… to them. I would hate to see you… get into trouble."

Ferrarius leans against the ladder, his arms are folded, his right hand slipped unnoticed inside his coat, thumb down and palm outward. His expression is casual, even slightly amused. Lucius Malfoy becomes wary of him but his offense at a muggle presence overwhelms it and he continues. "These muggles are like vermin. They multiply." Malfoy makes a brief false smile at Ferrarius. "Watch yourself Garrick." Malfoy turns with a flourish and exits.

Ferrarius says "If he bothers you, let me know."

"He is a dangerous man…with a lot of dangerous friends…"

"There was a time when his ancestors played up to muggles. His family goes wherever they think will gain them influence or money." Seeing Garrick's surprise, he grins. "They have no steady compass like your family. He does have a 'hawt' sister-in-law." Garrick's jaw drops. Ferrarius laughs. "I've seen her in my part of the alley." Garrick pales. "Bet she could suck the chrome of a trailer hitch as they say." Garrick wants to melt and seep through the floorboards.