Dumbledore gazed at Gwen during their lesson. She looked antsy, as if she’d rather be somewhere else. She kept reaching into her pocket and frowning.
“Is there something you’d like to do?” He asked her.
She looked at him. He was a great and wise wizard, perhaps he could understand what had happened the night before. “Well sir, it all started last night. The Stag King was standing in my dreams. He kept pointing to a piece of parchment and he wouldn’t let me sleep until I tried to find it.” She pulled a letter from her bag. “My hand tingled when I touched this and I fell into a vision of some kind. He was there and he was helping a mound move.” She handed the letter to Dumbledore.
He perused its contents. It was from Gemma and had described the king moving the mound. When he looked up at Gwen she pursed her lips.
“There was more to the vision, but I didn’t understand it. There were natives drawing lines in the sand with sticks of driftwood. We were close to the coast, and very near the beach. One of the elder tribesman was bent over the marks and trying to decipher them.” She frowned. “And that was all.”
“Africa.” Dumbledore said quietly. Suddenly he leapt from his chair as if the youth had returned to him even if just for a fleeting moment. He walked over to a giant shelf of books and pulled out a thin tome. He set it gently on the desk before him.
“I have never before heard “Carcer Tristitia,” but it is simply because that system of divination is not commonly used in the UK.”
“You know what it means?”
“No.” He said simply. “However, I do know where to find out.” With that he turned to the book and opened up the sleek, leather bound volume. “What you saw on the beach was geomancy. The Stag King must regard you highly; he has lead you to the answer to help your friend.”
She looked at him amazed. He was the greatest wizard alive.