The Great Hall was practically buzzing the following morning. All of the students were whispering to one another, as through their chatter rumors were flying. All seemed to be pointing at Professor Snape, and none of them were bothering to keep their voices down as they observed the scowling Potions Master (now sporting a rather nasty looking bruise on his jaw) as he took his breakfast. If it was possible, Snape was wearing a darker scowl than was custom with him, of course this could have been an illusion, as a good portion of the right side of his normally pale face was rather purpled and blackened. He spoke to no one, and endured the curious mutters of his colleagues. For once, a similarity between teacher and student emerged, as both were gossiping wildly about how the stern man could have received such a blow from another person. Or that he had allowed such a person, whoever it was, to get close enough to him - he always made a habit of withdrawing himself from the world around him. Charna, the culprit, was enjoying herself, chatting animatedly to Professors Sinistra and Vector, occasionally drawing a laugh from the women as she said something to entertain them.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione of course noticed Professor Snape's change in appearance. Ron stifled a laugh, bits of scrambled eggs flying from his mouth as he failed in concealing it. Hermione looked positively revolted. Ron looked puzzled, as if he had done nothing outside of the general rules of table manners to offend her. Harry pressed his hand over his mouth, suppressing a chortle. Suddenly, everything seemed magnificently hilarious to him. Professor Snape, the least favorite of his teachers, appeared to have been dealt quite a blow, and Ron's lacking table manners seemed to magnify the humor of the morning. "Wonder -" Ron had the courtesy to swallow the toast in his mouth at this point. Hermione looked rather relieved, though she threw him a last reproachful glance. "Wonder if anyone knows -" he began, without real need to finish his sentence. Further along the Gryffindor table, Seamus and Dean were having a discussion about who could have 'done it.'

"You know Charna, I was wondering if you could tell me something," said Dante casually, leaning forward slightly, her hands placed on Charna's desk. It was after breakfast, and neither of them had a lesson to teach, so Dante had sought Charna out for a bit of conversation. Silently, Charna gestured the woman to an empty chair across from her desk, which Dante took, waiting for Charna to speak. It appeared that Charna was in one of her more thoughtful moods, ones in which she spoke sparingly, processing several hundred things at once. Absently, she scratched Romulus's ears, so the room was filled with the sound of his purrs. "Domus dulcis domus," Romulus muttered, obviously deeply pleased with Charna's scratching behind his ears. He had said 'home sweet home,' something he usually said when he was rather pleased with himself. Dante's sweeping gaze held Romulus in it for a moment, before she focused again on Charna, silently willing her to speak.

"And what would that be?" Charna drawled, raising an eyebrow, though she had an idea of what Dante was wondering about. She did not have to wait long to find out exactly what the other woman wanted to know, and it was exactly what Charna had been expecting. It was the very same question flying around the school, from students and teachers alike. "Well - what happened to Severus? I saw him last night before he went into your office, and this morning he's sporting a rather large bruise on the side of his face. Of course I wasn't that close to him, but it looks like a few rings may have been imprinted into the side of his face. You can't blame me for having suspicions, Charna." Charna smiled, more of a leer than anything, but she seemed somewhat pleased with herself.

"Do you think it looks nice on him? I could have given him a few more really, but he turned tail and ran before I got the chance," Charna muttered, thinking over the previous night's events. "He deserved it though," she added bitterly, thinking of the memories that he had made her recall. When she awoke that morning, Charna was harboring a concentrated hatred toward Severus Snape once again; his words had made her recall the horrors of her past in her dreams at night. In her sleeping quarters, Charna was already secretly brewing a Draught of Peace to remedy her dreams. She would not allow something so weak to infiltrate her mind, and for her situation, she needed to keep a cool head. "Old Snivellus was asking for it, Dante. He brought up my father, and you know how I am about that." A scowl crossed Charna's face.

Dante sighed, sounding somewhat exasperated. She never got the chance to speak again though; she opened her mouth, but shut it again as a voice from behind Charna spoke. "Oh good - Wellington, Luna, I have you both in the same place. What a stroke of luck," the voice said, sounding a bit bored. "Anyway, I have an important message, so I need your attention - both of you," the voice continued. Charna closed her eyes for a moment, as if begging a higher power for patience. She recognized the voice, and it was not one that she was fond of hearing at any time. The voice belonged to Alexander Avery, who had always managed to drive Charna's annoyance to new and terrifying heights. Opening her eyes again, Charna seemed to gain at least a little composure, though there was definitely something different about her usual stern regality when she adjusted her chair so that she could look Avery in the eyes. "Right," Avery began. "For Miss Dante Luna, and Miss Charna Wellington, a message from the Master of the Marks. You are to Apparate to Diagon Alley this evening. There is a derelict shop, by the name of Strings and Things - you are to be inside promptly at seven." With that, Avery's head vanished from the fire.

The two women exchanged curious glances of question. "I wonder what we're going to be doing. I have an idea … but - unless he's coming out into the open now, I don't think he would risk it. You see, there's an old festival that Diagon Alley has annually, and it's guaranteed to have record numbers this year," Charna mused. "So you think he's going to have us attack it, do you?" Dante followed. Solemnly, Charna nodded. "That's my guess." She hoped that she was wrong.