March arrived with blustery winds and heavy rainfall. The project was going well. Harry spent most of his time scrying now, much to the chagrin of Hermione and Ron who felt rather snubbed by their third musketeer. So much for one for all.
The research team had uncovered nearly seventy words and Gwen was almost thinking of adding more to their list if they had time before the term ended. She was a little busy however to really think further on that idea or the coincidence of the Stags.
She had her hands full with her first official Professor Smithless class. He was going to be just down the hall in his office in case of emergency, but this day was her day to forge ahead on her own. She was jittery and over excited. Her lesson plans shook in her hand as she tried to sooth her nerves. It was a good thing she wasn�t drinking any coffee at breakfast, it would only make her quiver more.
But Gwen would never have the chance to teach that day. An large screech owl swooped in as many others did to deliver the mail. This one veered for the head table and dropped a small package in Gwen�s lap. She hadn�t been expecting any packages and couldn�t imagine where this one would have come from.
The letter on top of the package was addressed to Miss Guenivere LeFey. She opened it gingerly, almost fearing something so formal. It read as follows:
�Dear Guenivere,
Graves entrusted me with this package before his travels. In the event that he could not return to give it to you himself he asked that I would do so. I am sad to report that he has perished as a result of those travels and therefore I am passing this package onto you.
Sincerely,
Adam Larkin�
Gwen�s vision blurred, her head reeling from the word: perished. She dropped the letter, didn�t bother to open the package. It just couldn�t be true. She knew that Corwin�s work had been important as well as dangerous, but she never expected that he was in mortal peril.
Her brow crinkled. Who was Adam Larkin? Could she trust his word? She had never met him, but she vaguely remembered Graves speaking about him on one occasion. He was a Slytherin, in the same year as Graves.
She felt a hand on her shoulder, lost in her thoughts once again. It was Professor Smith and with a gentle nod she was out of her seat and trailing down the hall and up the stairs to her office. He followed with her package and letter in hand, Minerva not far behind him.