Morgaunt goes on to warn of Hairball, but the ladies assure him that they've already prepared a vanquish. Upon learning of the ingredients -- mandrake and griffin's blood, if you care -- Morgaunt dismisses it as inadequate, and conjures a piece of parchment delineating a far more complicated potion. "I've never even heard of half these ingredients," Phoebe admits, running a finger down the sheet of paper. The Dolt, suspicious, shoots Phoebe A Look, so she activates her Fucking Backup Band. Unfortunately, she "can't get a read" on Morgaunt. He allows that their suspicions are to be expected, but urges them to focus on the potion, for if he can't get Piper up to speed on her swordplay, the vanquish will be the only thing protecting them from the Hairball. "Where are we supposed to get the ingredients?" Phoebe worries. "Leave it to me, your trusty assistant," Raige snarks, grabbing onto Phoebe's arm and orbing upwards. The Dolt, meanwhile, orbs up to Whitelighterland with Tiny Gay Chris to consult with the other ever-useless Elders. Piper, now alone with Morgaunt, rises from the sofa with the sword and twirls it around experimentally. Morgaunt conjures a smoking scimitar of his own, and shouts, "En garde!" They fight, with Piper rather expertly parrying Morgaunt's various thrusts. Yes, it sounds gross, but that's just because I've been cracking crass dick jokes for the last two paragraphs. Also, you have a filthy mind. Morgaunt blithers some Yoda-esque crap about Piper letting Excalibur's Force flow through her or something before we cut to…