Episode Ninety Six

Part One

            The search for the knowledge of Gwen's father had come to a temporary and dissatisfactory close. Yet for the time being it would have to do. Gwen was lying on her bed, receiving a tantalizing backrub from Graves when a slicing pain shot across her chest. She clenched her fists, curling into a tiny ball. The pain was something she was unprepared for. She had felt worse, but the surprise coupled with the instant worry the pain caused was nothing she could handle.

            Any time there was pain in her chest, there was trouble.

Part Two

            Graves sat outside Madame Pomfrey's office on the strictest orders that Miss LeFey was not to be disturbed. He had not bothered to don his invisibility cloak, so worried was he about his lady love. The pain she had felt had caused him panic enough, when it didn't stop it caused so much more. He had rushed her down to the infirmary as quickly as he could manage, carrying her tightly in his arms.

            He had been lucky in so far that the hallways had been empty, the students were all in class. He was now tucked just inside the door, so only a student coming to see Poppy might run into him, and the probability that a student would recognize him was fairly slim.

            He clenched his hands and grit his teeth, his brow was knotted furiously with frustration. He couldn't help her, something he hated to admit. He knew that the pain wasn't terribly serious, it was what it portended that had him worried.

            To his left was a white muslin screen, separating the rest of the infirmary from this area. Behind the screen was a girl in agony. Nothing Poppy did could cure her ills. The nurse had never seen someone brave such pain before. While she knew very well that Gwen was in anguish, the girl did not make a sound, or complain one bit.

            She was lying on her side, curled up quietly and sipping some water. There was an empty basin, should she feel the urge to purge her stomach. There was another filled with water and cold compresses that Poppy reapplied to her head from time to time. She couldn't figure out what was wrong and Gwen couldn't communicate why it was happening.

            This continued for several days before finally the pain broke and washed over her like so many waves in the ocean. She spent the first day pain-free just recuperating; she had no desire to relay what she had seen, not yet.

            For the pain had not just been a premonition of things to come, it had brought with it a vision and the vision, not the pain had left her mute.

Part Three

            Gwen looked at Graves with troubled eyes. He was finally allowed to visit her, although only for a short time. He understood immediately that what was troubling Gwen was far more than chest pains. He knew that a great weight had fallen on her shoulders like a mantle of snow, covering a mountain range, making it impossible to cross without an impending avalanche. He feared the avalanche as much as she feared the crossing.

            As it happened Gwen had arranged a meeting with Dumbledore for the next day, fending off Madame Pomfrey's nervous mothering. "This is far more important than my health and honestly I'm feeling so much better."

            Poppy bustled off to help another student who had an unfortunate accident in Greenhouse 3 several beds down. Graves took Gwen's hand in his own. "What are you going to tell him?"

            "I'm not sure yet, but I have to tell him something. This is a warning, a monumental warning. Usually they come when it's too late to do anything, but this one, I think this one may be preventable."

            "What was it?"

            "I can't describe really. It was unspeakable. But I have to figure out a way to speak it. This can't be pushed under the rug."

            Graves squeezed her hand and sent her one of his rare, soul brightening smiles. Her spirits picked up. Even if she had to face this vision by herself, she wasn't alone. That at least was comforting.

Part Four

            Dumbledore could sense the trouble, he knew something was wrong when he heard that Miss LeFey had returned, and he knew that even more trouble was in store when he learned she was in the infirmary.

            He was therefore anticipating his meeting with her with a mixed amount of trepidation and frustration. He had always felt the power inside of her and he couldn't understand why she didn't just tap into it. He felt for a long time that if anyone was meant to defeat the Dark Lord then it should very well be Harry Potter. Guenivere was slowly changing his mind. Not only did she have the capability, but she had the desire as well. Harry had the desire, and certainly the talent, but not the strength. Maybe together they could end it.

            He looked deep into his pensieve, watching the thoughts swirling about the bottom of the bowl. There were so many connections in this bowl, flowing loosely about each other, one decision leading to another, one life bleeding into the next. There was one connection yet that he did not understand, nor did he even notice it clearly. Recent events had brought something to his attention, something from the past. Mage had come back to speak with him briefly, which being rare had alerted him immediately, but current news had also set the thinning hairs on the back of his neck to tingling.

            Guenivere's vision, he felt sure held something of this connection in it, but he couldn't be completely certain until their meeting, still fifteen minutes away. He had never known Gwen to be punctual during their training over a year prior and was therefore surprised when the young woman timidly cleared her throat a quarter of an hour early, standing sheepishly at the top of the staircase.

            She stepped forward, her head a little light. Even after a full day of rest she had not recovered from the blind panic the pain had set her in. She sat in a chair just before the professor's desk and concentrated quietly at a pile of papers thereon and the strange stone pensieve, avoiding his piercing blue gaze.

            "I was expecting we'd have a meeting soon." He said softly. "I am guessing this has nothing to do with coming back to teaching."

            She nodded. Her composure was riding on the strength of Graves' smile from the previous day. She cleared her throat again, willing the words to trickle down the back of her brain onto her tongue. Finally they came, slow and halting all throughout, with difficulty. The need to get them out however, frosted over any desire to hold them back.