In her usual whirl of black robes, she sweeps into the room and fixes her dark gaze on me. A few strands of hair have come loose from her bun and are dancing wildly around her head. There's blood on her cheek. It's probably her own, because now I remember the laceration on the back of her head. Her wand hand trembles and her battle gear is a little askew, but her eyes spit fire. 