Episode Fifty Five
Part One
Gwen's training had intensified. She had mastered the unforgivable curses on spiders and was put through them two years ago when Mad Eye Moody was a teacher. Although it hadn't really been Mad Eye, it didn't really matter. She was prepared for it.
She had dealt with the Crucio. She could throw off the Imperio. The Avada Kedavra was the only one she was worried about. That one had only been survived once before. She felt confident that her fey blood would protect her in this case, but she wasn't sure how. Maybe it was the immortal power the Stag King had lent to her. She felt like she could survive anything.
Weeks flew by, the semester winding down once again, or rather up for some students who were highly strung about their exams.
The rumor of an attack had died down, but Gwen was still concerned. She wrote to Gemma regularly in hopes of finding out more information and maintaining good contact with the mound, so that if their help was needed she could easily persuade them to join the cause.
And on the quietest morning of early March Gwen could not sleep. Another slicing pain in her chest had woken her. Someone was in trouble. She quickly shook off the sleepiness, grabbed her wand and cloak and peeked out the window to see if she could see anything.
She was not the least bit surprised to see several death eaters striding out of the Forbidden Forest early in the morning. They were wearing their masks, protecting their identities, hiding behind a mask of fear. They were weak, she thought. They were weak because they didn't dare show their real faces.
It was with these kind of thoughts that she strode out to meet them. It was so early that no one else was awake to intercept them. Gwen had to defend the castle. What kind of DADA teacher would she make if she couldn't do just that?
She wasn't alone. Striding out of the shadows to meet her was the cloaked Graves. He looked at her. "I knew you'd come."
"It's a bit early to wake the whole castle. Besides, I think we can take them by ourselves."
"That's a big group Gwen."
"With all your dark arts experience and my obvious talent for surviving curses, I think we'll get along just fine."
He frowned at her. Was she always so cocky first thing in the morning? "If you say so."
The forged ahead to meet the group.
Part Two
The death eaters stopped in their tracks a few feet from Graves and Gwen. They weren't prepared for an emissary, if that's what this was. None of them spoke; the tension was so exquisitely delicious. Gwen hadn't felt this tense in ages; she'd almost forgotten the rush of it.
Wands were out. She had hers pointed at the largest figure, assuming it was the leader as it stood in the very center of the circle. There were thirteen in all, a fitting number Gwen thought. She had never held with the superstition that thirteen was a bad luck number. As a matter of fact, she frequently bet on it in the dream world and often won.
Suddenly the biggest death eater cleared his throat. "This doesn't concern you children." He (as the voice was decidedly male) said almost mocking.
"Perhaps you're mistaken." Gwen began. "This is an alumni of Hogwarts and I am currently training to become a teacher here. I hardly believe we'd really count for children anymore." She thought she heard a slight chuckle from under a mask, but it quickly turned into a cough.
"If you do not get out of our way there will be hell to pay." The big one continued.
"Maybe for you." Gwen said.
Graves was nearly choking at her nerve. He had never seen her so confident of anything.
Without wasting anymore time the largest one pointed his wand at Graves and uttered a curse Gwen had never heard before. "Carcer Tristitia."
Graves fell into a heap at her feet. She kneeled down to him, wrapping him in her arms. The death eaters, feeling that they had distracted her sufficiently with Graves moved past her to the castle. She stared into his eyes as he struggled to get the words out.
"I came back for you." He said as his body fell limp.
"I know you did." She whispered. The pain in her chest was spreading outward further and further until she was almost numb with grief. He made one last effort to squeeze her hand.
"You have always been my best friend. I..." He said hazily and faded into oblivion.
She closed her eyes; she couldn't see anymore. She wouldn't let herself. She held his body tight to her chest, anger spreading out in every direction from her heart. It was spilling from her eyes in mad tears; it was leaking from her mouth in a wailing cry that shook the very earth they stood on.
She laid her friend to rest gently on the ground and rose up to her full height. While she was still very small she was fierce and terrible looking. Her hair was streaming out all about her, chin was held high. She began speaking low and hoarse, building in intensity with each word. She didn't understand the words, but she knew their purpose.
She was speaking the ancient fey tongue that the Stag King had taught her while she remained in his care. They were coming out of her very soul, bypassing her brain all together. The death eaters turned, fear in their eyes now. They couldn't move any closer to the castle nor any further from the terrifying sight Gwen had become.
They had heard of old fey magic, but they had never seen it in practice. Gwen's eyes were on fire, a flame had leapt to life in the core of her being and it would be a long time before she could get it under control again. She pointed at each and every one of the death eaters around her and before any of them knew what was happening they were writhing on the ground in agony.
She would not kill them. No, she would never kill them. That was for the dementors of Azkaban. But she would remind them momentarily of the pain they had caused her and the pain they had caused Harry and Graves. She would remind them of the way her father died, and the way her mother died.
She would break their evil will and send their dried up souls to waste away in Azkaban.
Part Three
Dumbledore was rushing down from the castle to the mass of black masked invaders writhing on the ground. He stopped before he reached Gwen. He couldn't be certain she would recognize him as a friendly face in this state. She noticed the movement out of the corner of her eye and slowly eased off.
Her words slowed and trickled into a whisper and then suddenly there was silence so deafening.
She slumped to the grass, the death eaters around her silent, unconscious. Dumbledore stepped over to her. She seemed disoriented, confused almost as to what she'd just done. She pursed her lips and frowned. Graves.
She startled Dumbledore by rushing over to the young man, lying still in the grass. She tugged at his sleeves and whispered his name. He was still breathing but was not remotely responsive to her.
"No, No Graves come on. You haven't ever once failed me. Get your ass up and talk to me right now. Tell me I'm stupid, come on Graves. Who's going to tell me I'm stupid?" She was becoming manic, throwing her full weight into trying to wake him.
She stopped suddenly when a calm hand touched her shoulder. She looked up into the wise blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore. There was remorse there, regret that he had not taught her better. She looked away from him, ashamed. She heard him sigh.
She was slowly becoming aware of what exactly she'd done and was blinking back her own frustrated tears. Why didn't she ever think before she acted?
