Gwen stared in disbelief. She was staring at the rune set she had made in the dream world at Graves suggestion. It was perfectly preserved, the misshapen stones laying in a heap at the bottom of the box. They weren�t very big, didn�t take up very much space.
Included was a sparkling blue satchel that looked as if it had been hand made. She looked at the liner, it was maroon with a tiny black snowflake residing at one edge of the fabric. The drawstrings of the bag were blue silky ribbon. She recognized it as her own handiwork, another creation she had painstakingly made in the dream world.
There was a note at the bottom of the box, scratched in Graves own hand. She opened it with a hunger, a fervent curiosity overtaking her grief.
�Dear Gwen,
I�m either dead or disappeared if you�ve received this letter. Adam has been given my full seal of approval and if you ever stop ogling Potter, I�d suggest dating him. He�s like me, but nicer. In any case you probably have some questions for me.
Like how did I find these if they were made in the dream world? Well, if you remember properly your mother made a doppelganger of me in that world. The problem with doppelgangers is that they often share memory and whether or not she intended to, I was starting to remember things that had never happened in this world.
It took some pretty strong magic but I found this dream world. It doesn�t seem possible, but just because it existed in your mind doesn�t mean it never existed at all. The fabric of dreams is pretty strange stuff. I waded through and found these, remembering how proud you were of them. They brought us together in that world. Had you stayed there I might have had a chance with you.
But that�s in the past and I forgive you any schoolgirl obsession you have on the hot jock. I�m kidding, don�t tell Harry I said that. It took even more magic to bring them back to our world, but it was worth it. It was worth it just to know that you�ll have these in your possession and that because of them, you�ll never forget me.
Love and honor,
Corwin Graves�
Anthony cleared his throat. �Classes are about to start.�
Gwen nodded.
�Why don�t you take a personal day, Guenivere.� Minerva said softly. �I�m sure Professor Smith can handle his own classes.�
�I was going to teach today.� She protested weakly.
�You can teach tomorrow.� Anthony smiled. �Take some time to recover.�
Gwen watched as they trailed out of her office. She turned back to the box in her lap. She caressed the stones one last time before placing them one by one into the homemade bag. When she had finished she stowed the package in her top left drawer. She folded both letters carefully and placed them there as well.
She stood carefully, straightened her robes and walked slowly to her bedroom. A few students straggled on the way to class and looked at her fearfully, as if she would take points away from their houses, but were left to whisper in confusion as she floated past them, not noticing.
She leaned against her door once it had clicked shut. A deep sobbing moan escaped her chest and she slide down to a ball on the floor. She lay there in a heap as the despair spread over her. It ached sharply, reminding her acutely of the Cruciatus Curse.
She couldn�t breath, she couldn�t talk, she couldn�t move. She couldn�t do anything except lay there as the anger, confusion and depression washed over her again and again. It would be hours before she could muster herself to crawl into bed. It would be hours before she could fall into a fitful sleep. It would be days before she would get out of bed again, and then only to close the curtains because the light was blinding her.