Episode Thirty Seven

Part One

            The light was dim and it looked to Gwen as if they'd stumbled into the Faerie Mound.

            "Where are we?" Harry asked.

            "I dunno." Gwen replied. "I don't think this is really happening. I think this is just another trance."

            They held hands as they groped in the darkness, trying to make some sense of their surroundings. The ceiling of the room was short, the walls low and there were no windows to be found. The wane light seemed to transfuse the entire room; it didn't seem to have a source, it simply was. There was no door, no way out.

            "What is this?" Harry asked, laying his fingers gently on a dark slab of granite.

            "Don't touch it." Gwen said. She had the sneaking suspicion that they were visiting the unsellie court, and the table before them was for dining. The old legends said that if you ate fey food you could never again leave the mound. And if they were amongst the unsellie that would be a very bad thing.

            "You recognize this place?"

            "No, but my intuition never lies. But if this is just a trance then nothing should be able to…" She stifled her speech when a host of terrifying fey entered through the wall, cloaked in white home-spun robes. Their faces were dark, which Gwen was thankful for. They were too wild to look upon without feeling your knees go weak.

            Harry and Gwen shifted back towards the wall, but they found that the fey did not see them. This was indeed a trance and nothing they said or did could be heard or seen.

            The court circled around the table, blessing it with herbs and flowers, a bit of water from the lake and an interesting black sand Gwen had never seen before. The Stag King entered in his deep, dark cloak his head wrapped in ivy sprigs, accenting his tan horns. His hair fell in a black tangle around his shoulders and his face was dark, covered in a shadow that seemed to move wherever he moved.

            He was carrying in his arms the body of Gwen, not much older than she was now. She was pale and looked almost dead, as Harry had described her in his dream. The king laid her on the table and began to speak over her in a strange fey tongue long since dead.

            The real Gwen and Harry were squashed against the wall, hardly daring to breathe or move a muscle.

            Gwen on the table stirred softly and the king placed his hand over her eyes. She fell back into a deep slumber and the pain creasing her brow ceased. The king caressed her cheek, spoke once again in the same strange language and exited through the same wall he had entered. The little hooded fey took guard around her to stand watch.

            The dimness was beginning to dissolve.

Part Two

            Harry had never slept more soundly. It was as if the trance was merely a dream at the beginning of a night of deep sleep and he slumbered beautifully. Gwen lay curled under his arm; her feverish brain trying to work out the clues the fey had set for her.

            If this was a vision, a clue for her and she was finally using her powers to see… She was in grave danger. There was no denying it. Between Harry's dream and the vision of the fey, Gwen was going to end up nearly dead and if she wasn't careful maybe even really dead.

            She needed to seek out Gemma's council once again. Perhaps she would have a clue as to why the Stag King would concern himself with Gwen's well-being. When the sun rose she ventured downstairs to dress. She found herself sliding into McGonagall's office quietly, expecting to find it empty. "Aunt Minerva?" She said when she noticed the older woman sitting at her desk, already hard at work.

            McGonagall looked up sharply from her stack of parchments. School hadn't yet begun, but she was making notes and lesson plans for her own sanity. Once school began and she took on her duties as Deputy Headmistress it was impossible to sit and have a moment to herself.

            "Can I help you Guenivere?"

            "Yes. I need to see my great-great-grandmother again."

            McGonagall peered at her scrupulously. "For what reason?"

            "Well, it has something to do with Harry's dream and a vision I had. I know you don't believe in divination, but I'm telling you, I'm never wrong. I might be in danger and Gemma might be able to help me."

            "Very well." McGonagall said. She knew very well that her goddaughter was in danger. There was little else she could do to protect her with the exception of keeping her on grounds and keeping a sharp eye on her. "I will escort you to the forest."

            "Thank you, but I don't need…" She stopped short as she noticed the look McGonagall was sending her. "Of course. Is 11 o'clock ok?"

            "That will be fine. In the meantime I suggest you eat something; you look pale."

            Gwen smiled ruefully. Minerva did a fine impression of her mother.

Part Three

            The women bustled down to the forest shortly after 11. Gwen had filled her stomach with breakfast, trying her best to quell her godmother's sudden nervousness. She knew that Beorc had filled Minerva in on more than she would tell her own daughter. Whatever information she had it made the older woman jumpy and highly protective of her new charge. While Gwen wasn't bothered that her mother hadn't told her the whole truth (she never did anyway) she was really just longing to know what she was really up against. If she knew right from the get-go that the death eaters had put a price on her head at least she could prepare in advance.

            At the edge of the forest Minerva waved good bye. She knew Gwen to be capable enough to survive within the forest, she had a wand and somehow she felt that her great-great-grandmother might be protecting her whenever she entered.

            Gwen covered the forest terrain at an amazing speed. She knew exactly where she wanted to be. Within no time she was at the mound, stepping down and in the presence of her great-great-grandmother once again. This time she had company.

            A tall fey looking man with a bright smile and a short, chubby fey woman with dark hair stood next to Gemma deep in conversation. They hardly noticed that a child no older than 17 years had entered their presence. When they did turn to see her, Gwen bowed low as she felt she was in the presence of someone great.

            The couple bowed in return and exited through the back wall.

            "How do they do that?" Gwen asked.

            Gemma smiled. "That is a secret of the mound that you will learn when you join us."

            "I had a vision that needs some clarifying." Gwen said, the terror of the strange king touching her oddly close to the surface. All of her dreams were bubbling just under her skin, waiting for a good moment to spring upon her and torment her with strange memories.

            "Ah, the cloudy vision of the young. You look haunted."

            "I feel haunted. I think I visited the unsellie court."

            "The unsellie?" Gemma looked ruffled. "And what were you doing there?"

            "It was in the vision. I was almost dead but the Stag King revived me."

            "Oberon?"

            "Oberon, Cernaunos, The Fool, Stag King. Whatever you like to call him. He saved my life."

            There was a long moment when neither woman made a move to say anything.

            Finally Gemma spoke. "It is strange that the unsellie court would take an interest in you. I'll think on it and I will let you know if I discover anything. I'll find an owl to send to you so that you don't have to bungle around in the forest again. There is something unsafe in the air and I don't trust you to be out here, even in the daylight."

            Gwen nodded. "One more thing."

            "Of course."

            "What is my fey name?"

            "Agropyron Repens."

Gwen recoiled from the very sound of it. Gemma laughed at her reaction. "The king knew you would feel that way. He offered you two nicknames to choose from: Beauvois or Witchgrass."

"Beauvois is fine thank you." She said.

"Then Beauvois you shall be. But remember you must never reveal any of these names to anyone."

"Pinky swear." Gwen smiled, grasping her great-great-grandmother's pinky finger in her own and shaking hands.

She exited the woods with newfound peace of mind. While her vision still unsettled her she was comfortable with her new name. Beauvois, the Witchgrass. McGonagall raised her eyebrow in question, but decided not to ask as they headed back to the school together. The calm, serene appearance of Gwen's smile quieted all her worries for the time being.