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 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?

To be continued in Episode Fifty Six