“You’re edgy today.” Harry observed quietly after lunch. He made it a habit now to drop something, or leave something behind so he had to run back to get at the end of lunch. He was really just waiting for Gwen to amble down from the head table. He would walk her to her classroom and then saunter off to his.

He had noticed during breakfast that Gwen seemed antsy, as if she’d drunk one two many cups of coffee. During lunch he kept watching the way she’d drop her fork half-way to her mouth. It didn’t look like she’d been able to eat anything, let alone get it close enough to her mouth to attempt doing so. She finally caught up to him, close to the door.

“Graves isn’t dead.” She stated, stopping before they had left the hall.

“What?” Harry nearly screamed, he was glad most of the other students had cleared the entrance hall and were now heading to their classes. “How?”

“I spoke to a photographer, a friend of Anthony. He said pictures of dead people don’t move. Dead people can move in pictures taken of them while their living, but if anyone takes a picture of a corpse it won’t budge. He takes freelance shots for the Ministry of Magic in America when they need photographic evidence of crime scenes. He’s photographed a thousand dead wizards. They don’t move.”

Harry looked at her, trying to absorb the shock. “You’re certain his picture in the Daily Prophet moved?”

“Just enough to make me believe it. Even his photographic image is pretty shrewd. It didn’t move enough for anyone else to notice. And this morning’s edition of the Daily Prophet confirms it. He’s getting sloppy.” She said abrasively.

She thrust the Daily Prophet at him. He gazed at the photo gracing the cover. At first he didn’t understand. It was a picture crowded with wizards and witches, struggling in the Gringott’s lobby. A rumor had gotten out that there was going to be a run on the bank (which was completely impossible and sounded to Gwen like Project Mayhem activity); people flocked to the bank in droves trying to withdraw their funds. And then he noticed one person who wasn’t amid the struggle. He was leaning back against the wall casual as could be. His hair was cropped close to his head, almost a boot cut. He was wearing old army fatigues under his open black robe. He looked relaxed in the midst of the frenzy.

It was Corwin Graves and he looked alive and well.

To be Continued in Episode Seventy Seven