Gwen couldn’t wait for dinner. Something had happened to her godmother while she was away and she knew it was good. She just didn’t know what it was.
Because she was so anxious to find out, the day dragged along. She spent most of the morning going over the term’s curriculum with Professor Smith. She spent the afternoon chatting with Dumbledore about her adventures in France and talking over ideas for the classroom.
“I’d like to teach a section dealing with Ouranian Barbaric.”
“Ah yes. I remember you mentioning something about it during our studies. How would you propose that it be useful to the field of defense?”
She smiled. “Well, in my personal studies it has varying degrees of success. I feel it could be a very powerful tool if used and taught properly. Of course it’s not a full language, it only has roughly two hundred words in its current vocabulary and to discover more one would have to scry. But if it were turned into a class project I think we might be able learn more words and put them to use. Even the geomancy figures could be used in curses and countercurses, who’s to say that the dark forces won’t turn to other systems of magic unexplored. I think this would be a great advantage to our side, advanced knowledge of a magical language for our own use.”
Dumbledore scrutinized her up and down. She had not discovered, nor had she claimed to have made up the language, but he knew that it did not exist in this world until she had used it. He knew fragments about her dream world experience, as Minerva had attempted on several occasions to explain to him why Gwen was such a special case. He thought that perhaps Beorc LeFey had a hand in making the language and if that was so then it would indeed be powerful. Since no one but Gwen knew all of the words currently in the language it could prove a great advantage in the coming war.
Gwen was very serious about the plan to make scrying for words a class project for the second term. She would use it as a practical application for the seventh year students. He frowned. “This sounds more like a interdisciplinary project. You may want to work with Madame Trelawney when it comes to scrying.”
“That would be excellent.” Gwen bubbled. “But if she doesn’t want to work on the project may I still proceed?”
“Let’s give it some time. Continue your research and contact the Madame. We’ll decide if this is something to pursue in the classroom over Christmas holiday.”
She positively beamed. Before dinner she rushed to her office and began working up the preliminary details for the project. This of course included a vocabulary list of all the words she could remember. It wouldn’t be complete, but she herself could scry for the words she couldn’t remember. And Madame Trelawney would come in very handy in that case. While Gwen had that natural fey ability to see, she couldn’t very well teach it in the classroom. She would need the help of a divination professor for that lesson.
And finally it was time for dinner. She practically ran down to the great hall, huffing and puffing her way to the head table. She tried to act casually as she sat down between her godmother and Professor Snape, smiling and nodding at all of the teachers assembled. Minerva was trying very hard to look severe, but was failing miserably as the corners of her mouth kept lifting upwards in a smile.
The plates were magically filled and chatter slowly began to filter in. She tried to carefully edge as far away from Snape as humanly possible. He was unusually silent this evening and Gwen thought he kept scratching at his forearm distractedly.
Minerva engaged her actively, asking all manner of questions about her trip. “How was the Eiffel Tower?”
“Oh the view was fantastic. I liked it better at night to be perfectly honest though, all the lights. And the cafés. The tea they served was divine, although the French are really coffee people at heart.”
“I hear you and Madame Maxime got along famously.”
“Surprisingly.” Gwen said, noticing the way Hagrid perked up at mention of the half-giantesses name. “I never would have expected it, but she is possibly the kindest woman I’ve ever met. She’s so polite.”
“Yep.” Grinned Hagrid, leaning forward to talk around Snape, who looked like he’d rather not be there at all. “That’s Olympe.”
“She’s such a good hostess.” Gwen said, sensing that she may have been right about her suspicions. She had seen the way the two of them talked during the Tri-wizard Tournament. It was as if they were made for each other.
Gwen was going to be highly disappointed with the rest of the meal. The food was excellent, no doubt, as was the company. But she would not find out what her godmother was itching to tell her in such mixed company.