MYSTERIES
Murder in the Death Chamber
Note to Readers:
Adalbert Waffling, Ali Bashir, Basil from Transportation Department, Madame Maxime, Madam Rosmerta, Erich Munch, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Bertha Jorkins, Severus Snape, Professor Sprout, Rubeus Hagrid, James Croaker, Broderick Bode, Walden Macnair, Ludo Bagman and the Wimbourne Wasps, Wilkie Twycross, Reginald Cattermole, Rita Skeeter, Cornelius Fudge, Madam Edgcombe, Lord Voldemort, Sirius Black, Winky, Mr Crouch, the Weird Sisters, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Victor Krum, Aidan Lynch do not belong to me, nor do magical places like Tinworth, Hogsmeade and its shops (Gladrags Wizardwear, Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, Honeydukes, Dervish & Banges), Hogwarts and "The Three Broomsticks", the Department of Mysteries, and its rooms, the Ministry of Magic, and its Departments. The Daily Prophet, the hippogriff Buckbeak and the Quidditch World Cup are not my invention, either. The aforementioned all belong to J. K. Rowling.
Tuesday, 19 April 1994
Gwendolyn Bale stubbed out her cigarette in the blue glass ashtray Miss Carthew, her next-door neighbour, had given her for her last birthday. "Smoking early in the morning is especially unhealthy, " it piped. Gwen ignored it and drained her teacup. "Nothing like a nice little cigarette after a delicious morning tea," she murmured with a small cough, even though she knew it was pointless since the ashtray would not understand a reply. She put her teacup into the sink. Wookey, the house-elf, would come later, she used to sleep in Miss Carthew's house and do her household first.
Napoleon was already fast asleep, snoring a little. After a successful hunt at the crack of dawn the black tomcat had returned home to Gwen's cottage and collapsed onto the fluffy cushion on his favourite chair near the coal furnace.
Gwen took off her glasses, cleaned them with a Tergeospell and put them on again. Will the wizarding world ever find a treatment for my shortsidedness? she grumbled inwardly. Lots of spell, charms, and potions, and I am still running around with those glasses. She sighed. Ophtalmology was clearly not her area of study.
Gwen looked out of the window of her tiny kitchen where the sun had begun climbing the horizon. The view to the rough cliffs in the distance, still being wrapped in thick grey mists, was spectacular. She got up, stretching and yawning, and gathered her old leather bag, her wand and her violet cloak, which was, in her opinion, a perfect match for her lilac-coloured robes. Then she went to the fireplace in the sitting room, opened the small wooden box engraved with red symbols, which usually contained her floo powder, and suddenly gasped.
Oh no, she thought, I forgot to get some!
She looked around frantically, but there was no denying the fact that she had forgotten to procure new supplies of the silvery powder. She hasted back to the kitchen, and after rummaging a while in the old wooden kitchen cupboard, she gave up, knowing she would not find anything there. She looked at the round clock hanging over the door. Nine o'clock, she would be late!
She rushed outside. Fresh salty wind from the sea hit her face. Her cottage stood near the cliffs. The whole wizarding settlement consisted of only three cottages that crouched against the ever-blowing wind, but this April morning was particularly cold, and the breeze contained droplets of rain.
She knocked at Hugh's door and hoped she would not wake him. Some moments later, he stuck out his head. His dark eyes looked tired, the soft wrinkles around them were deeper than usual. His black hair stuck in all directions.
"Morning, Gwen, what's the matter?" he asked yawning, scratching his beard. His brother Joshua owned a pub in Tinworth, and he sometimes helped him out.
"I am so sorry to wake you, but I ran out of floo powder, could you lend me some?"
"Floo powder," he looked a bit confused. "Right, I'll get you some." He returned after a few instants with a small bottle. "Don't you get your floo powder at the Ministry?"
Gwen looked guilty: "You're right, but I … er … forgot to get some."
Hugh just nodded, already closing the door, which was not easy due to the strong wind, as Gwen thanked him profusely and wished him a nice day.
~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~
Gwen stumbled out of one of the gilded fireplaces on the left-hand side of the Atrium. She brushed some ashes from her short brown curls, put on her glasses, which she always pocketed before flooing, and hurried to the lifts.
"Hi Gwen!" someone called as she passed The Fountain of Magical Brethren. She looked around and recognised Vivi Gregorius' platinum blonde shock of hair.
"Hi, Vivi, were are you going?"
Vivi was one of her colleagues and responsible for the acquisition of brains, prophecies, clocks and other issues the DoM needed. As ever she radiated efficiency in everything she did.
"Going to meet a healer at St. Mungo's." Vivi gave a brilliant smile, her eyes were twinkling. Under her arm she carried a claret-coloured dragonhide briefcase.
"Seems they could lend us a hand there. I'll be back for lunch, I hope! See you later!"
She winked at Gwen, then drew out her elegant pocket-watch, nodded and strode to the fireplaces on the right-hand side of the large hall, her red robes billowing after her slender tall figure to reveal her ruby-coloured high-heeled dragonhide boots. Gwen noticed that some heads turned to follow her attractive colleague on her way out.
The Atrium was still bustling with people, even though most of the Ministry workers had already gone to their offices. Gwen rushed to the golden gates in the adjacent smaller hall and noticed the eternal Erich Munch talking to a group of visitors. She entered an empty lift, which – after she'd pressed the button – went down one level.
"Department of Mysteries," the cool female voice announced as usual.
Accompanied by some violet-coloured flying memos Gwen hurried through the simple corridor that lead to the plain black entry of the Department where she'd been working now for a bit more than a year.
Slightly panting she opened the door with this week's code, "Our research is the foundation upon which wizardkind builds its future", and entered the circular room. Despite her being in a hurry, she wondered how they came up with codes like this every week. And each week they had to learn them by heart.
Before closing the door behind her she extracted from her leather bag the special silver instrument every Unspeakable owned. It had the form of a double-helix with a slim rod in its centre. When she pressed it, a blue flame erupted from an opening at its tip, and the instrument began vibrating and emitting a soft purr – now was the time to perform the spell that prevented the wall from revolving: "Caverotari". Only then Gwen closed the door. At once the instrument stopped vibrating, and blue inscriptions appeared on the series of black doors, indicating to which room they led. She put the instrument back into her leather bag, and opened the door that had "Room of Brains" written upon it. Some memos entered with her, the others remained floating in the circular room, waiting for someone to open the respective room they were directed to. She would be able to see the inscriptions until she left the Department through the black door in the evening.
"Good morning, Gwen!" Bob greeted her cheerfully. He was pouring a bottle of a green liquid into the big brain tank. "You're a bit late, aren't you?"
"Morning, Bob," she replied. "You're right. Anyone asked for me?"
"I don't know. You'd better ask Ad and Isabelle. Argh!" He had spilled some drops of the liquid on his red overall. "Merlin's beard, how stupid of me! Excuse me." He rushed off to one of the doors that lined the walls of the room. Gwen could hear water from a tap and the chinking of glass.
She approached the tank and looked fondly at the pearly white brains. "Morning, my little cauliflowers," she murmured under her breath. "Are you all safe and sound?" Of course they did not answer.
"Hallo Gwen!" Gwen looked around and greeted Isabelle, her team colleague as she emerged from their office further down the line of doors. She carried a bucket, a small glass tank and a picker arm and put everything down beside the big tank.
"Aren't you a bit late, ma chère?" She waved her hands elegantly in a typical gesture of hers. "Ademarus is a bit … stressed. He needs the results from yesterday's tests, and could not find them."
Gwen nodded, did not elaborate any further and went to Ad's office. Ademarus Hutton was a genius, but when it came to dealing with people, he was a bit odd.
She knocked shortly and entered his tiny office, which was beside hers and Isabelle's. There was one desk and one chair, and the four walls were lined with bookshelves. Gwen was sure Ademarus had read them all and still knew what each and everyone contained. Just now he was comparing a number of charts, making notes with a quill on a piece of parchment. He looked up and pushed his round spectacles up his nose:
"At long last! I need the results of your tests, and could not find them on your desk."
Inside the bookshelves there was a small window in one wall, even though in reality the office was located between the Brain Room and the Death Chamber. It showed some palm trees in front of a sunny bright blue sky. So Magical Maintenance is obviously trying to humour everyone a bit today. Gwen and Isabelle had requested the window in their office always showed the real weather, and had got their wish. They both wanted to remain kind of linked to real life – which was difficult enough if you worked in the depths of the Ministry.
"Good morning, Ademarus," piped Gwen and extracted some sheets of parchment from her old leather bag.
They were a bit crumpled, but that disturbed neither her nor Ad, of that she was sure. What counted was the information, not the presentation. That was what their team was agreed upon. Vivi, of course, had quite a different opinion, but then she had a completely different job to do.
Currently Ademarus, Isabelle and Gwendolyn were studying the brains of extremely accomplished Occlumens and Legilimens. Vivi had found them six brains, and all three agreed that it was a very interesting project.
"We all could donate our own brains one day," Isabelle had joked.
All Unspeakables had to have some Occlumentic talent, which was a prerequisite for their top-secret positions.
It had been somewhat difficult to get the brain of a good Legilimens, Vivi had told them. But as always the ingenious Vivi had found "a source", as she called it.