Episode Seventy Six
Part One
Gwen ushered Harry down to her office and showed him the rune set she had stowed away in her desk. "He's amazing." She said breathlessly. "Was amazing." She added with a downtrodden note in her voice.
She settled into her chair as he examined the rocks and noticed that Minerva had left her copy of the Daily Prophet on her desk. She looked at the picture of Graves' motionless face. It twitched and he opened his eyes. He looked out of the picture like a man haunted.
"Harry, do you know anything about wizard photography?"
"No, why?"
"Graves' picture just moved."
"I thought all figures in pictures moved."
"Even dead ones?"
"Dunno." He said looking at her mildly.
The article had merely stated that he had been found dead down Knockturn Alley and was to be buried in the plot his parents had bought for their family. There was much speculation into why he had died and who had brought it about, but no firm answers.
She frowned. Something about this just didn't seem right.
Part Two
Gwen asked around about wizard photography, but no one seemed to know the answer. That is until she asked Professor Smith. He smiled at her kindly. He'd noticed the deep, dark circles cupping her eyes. He assumed she was still grieving. He did not know of the dreams that had been haunting her, or her strung along hopes of Graves life. "I don't know anything about photography, but my friend Andrew would. He never leaves home without his camera. I'll see if I can get in touch with him."
He turned, scratched a quick note on his desk and turned back to her. "Now, are you ready to teach?"
She laughed. She'd been teaching for two days now, since she'd mostly recovered from her bout of depression. She was pleased to see that Draco was (oddly enough) on his best behavior. The Ouranian Barbaric project was forging right ahead (they had added 20 new words in the two weeks Gwen had been holed up in her room) and things in general seemed to carry on where they had left off.
After classes Gwen sat, idling in her office, trying not to look at the picture of Graves whose eyes were now closed and the image hadn't moved again. He looked eerie, laid out on the cobblestone sidewalk of the Alley, captured in black and white newsprint, still and cold.
She took out her rune bag and reached inside. The very first rune she touched felt electric. She pulled it out and laid it on her desk. It was Gyfu, the rune for union. The next she pulled was Tyr, the rune of strength and regulation. The next rune was Sowelo or Sigel, the rune of the sun.
She figured it was about Harry. Gwen had never been wrong when divining something before. This would be the first. Of course, she wouldn't realize that until she was so deluded with fantasies about what could be that she would have to shake herself out of the dream she had built up in her head.
Gyfu stood for an old bond, and a reunion of that bond. Tyr stood for strength and stubbornness; if she'd been thinking clearly she would have remembered that Graves often adorned himself with this rune especially during outdoor activity. Sowelo stood for something that had been shrouded in darkness to come to light.
It would take her awhile to realize this. In the meantime she was so deeply within her daydreams that she didn't hear the knock on her door. Anthony swept in and handed her some sparkly powder. "Come on." He nodded.
She followed him reluctantly. "Where are we going?"
"My office. It has a fireplace."
She looked at him curiously. He answered immediately. "Andrew. He's just going to pop his head in and give you a quick answer."
She nodded. Anthony stoked the fire with his wand and waited, looking at his pocket watch. "He said half-past four." At that, he bade Gwen toss in the pile of shining sand. She did and was only a little surprised when a handsome head appeared sticking out of the flames. It had sea blue eyes, adorable rounded cheeks and a light stubble from not shaving.
"Hey Tony!" Andrew said.
"Drew, this is Gwen; Gwen, Drew."
"Nice to meet you." She said. She wanted to shake his hand, but couldn't, as only his head appeared to be in the fireplace.
"So, you have a photography question?" The head asked. The flames licking at it painted strange undulating shadows that made it difficult to concentrate on what he was saying.
"Yes." She said after a moment.
An half an hour later and Gwen was sitting in her room, thunderstruck. It couldn't be possible. She didn't dare hope. And yet, if what Andrew said was true…
Part Three
"You're edgy today." Harry observed quietly after lunch. He made it a habit now to drop something, or leave something behind so he had to run back to get it at the end of lunch. He was really just waiting for Gwen to amble down from the head table. He would walk her to her classroom and then saunter off to his.
He had noticed during breakfast that Gwen seemed antsy, as if she'd drunk one two many cups of coffee. During lunch he kept watching the way she'd drop her fork half-way to her mouth. It didn't look like she'd been able to eat anything, let alone get it close enough to her mouth to attempt doing so. She finally caught up to him, close to the door.
"Graves isn't dead." She stated, stopping before they had left the hall.
"What?" Harry nearly screamed, he was glad most of the other students had cleared the entrance hall and were now heading to their classes. "How?"
"I spoke to a photographer, a friend of Anthony. He said pictures of dead people don't move. Dead people can move in pictures taken of them while their living, but if anyone takes a picture of a corpse it won't budge. He takes freelance shots for the Ministry of Magic in America when they need photographic evidence of crime scenes. He's photographed a thousand dead wizards. They don't move."
Harry looked at her, trying to absorb the shock. "You're certain his picture in the Daily Prophet moved?"
"Just enough to make me believe it. Even his photographic image is pretty shrewd. It didn't move enough for anyone else to notice. And this morning's edition of the Daily Prophet confirms it. He's getting sloppy." She said abrasively. She thrust the Daily Prophet at him. He gazed at the photo gracing the cover. At first he didn't understand. It was a picture crowded with wizards and witches, struggling in the Gringott's lobby. A rumor had gotten out that there was going to be a run on the bank (which was completely impossible and sounded to Gwen like Project Mayhem activity); people flocked to the bank in droves trying to withdraw their funds. And then he noticed one person who wasn't amid the struggle. He was leaning back against the wall casual as could be. His hair was cropped close to his head, almost a boot cut. He was wearing old army fatigues under his open black robe. He looked relaxed in the midst of the frenzy.
It was Corwin Graves and he looked alive and well.
