Gwen urged her to sit down beside her, and beckoned Madam Rosmerta who took Roberta's order – a mineral water – and brought them two more butterbeers.
"Would you like something to eat?" Gwen asked concernedly, but Roberta didn't listen.
"What a day!" she panted, chewing nervously on her usual pink gum and grinning broadly.
"Have you eaten at all?"
"Don't worry, Gwen, I must tell you first. And you," she turned to Jonathan. "I hate shortening a really good story, but I saw, among many other exciting and interesting things, a man escaping from Hogwarts who looked exactly like Sirius Black. And I have a very good eyesight."
Jon jumped up from his seat, rummaged in his pockets and produced some coins. "Could you pay for me, please?" Gwen nodded, somewhat confused. "If that's true I must leave instantly. Sorry, girls," he waved and left the pub at a run.
"Merlin's beard, what has happened, Roberta?"
"It's unbelievable, I still don't know what I've seen or not seen." Madam Rosmerta put the mineral water in front of Roberta, and took away Gwen's empty plate.
"What was that?" Roberta asked, pointing at the plate.
"Shepherd's pie, it was lovely."
"Please bring me that, too," Roberta said to Madam Rosmerta, "and another mineral water. You're right, Gwen, I'm starving." She got up again and sat down opposite Gwen.
"Listen, Gwen, I am so happy you brought up the idea of coming here, even though that hippogriff didn't need me at all," she chuckled.
Gwen was mystified.
"I'll start the story from the beginning," Roberta promised and plunged into a rather confused narration about her tethering Amber Dancer in a grove near Hogsmeade, and going to Hogwarts ("Hoggy warty Hogwarts, it really hasn't changed at all, it was so wonderful to be back there"), then meeting her niece Larissa after lunch, who had been quick-witted enough to not let show her surprise at suddenly seeing her aunt, then chatting with Professor Sprout after Larissa had gone to take her afternoon exams, and waiting for the appeal, which was scheduled for two o'clock.
"Imagine – Fudge himself was there! The Minister of Magic attending an appeal for a hippogriff? I ask you!"
"Shhhh," Gwen warned her. The mineral water and the shepherd's pie arrived.
The Minister and the old Ministry official hadn't allowed Roberta to take part in the appeal. Dumbledore had tried to convince them, but they had refused unwaveringly. Macnair had grinned horribly, and said nothing. As she didn't want to risk her job she had waited patiently outside of Dumbledore's office, until they had told her that the appeal was lost and the execution of Buckbeak set for sunset.
Devastated, she had paced the Entrance Hall and finally made up another plan. She had returned with Professor Sprout, pretending to be interested in the greenhouses and the magical plants in there.
"You could have asked her how to silence a singing wormwood," Gwen interrupted her stream of words. Roberta hesitated momentarily, gave her a questioning look and took another mouthful of pie. Gwen shook her head.
"Nothing, pray continue."
"I wanted to stall for time until sunset," Roberta explained brightly, "and gain her trust. As a student I had been in Slytherin, so she didn't know me too well. And I was lucky since it wasn't her turn to proctor today's exams."
Finally Roberta had asked Professor Sprout to allow her to enter the Forbidden Forest. "I told her that I was interested in magical creatures like bowtruckles and other forest beings, and that I would have asked Rubeus Hagrid to enter the Forest, but didn't want to disturb him right now. I'm not sure she believed me – no, I'm quite sure she didn't believe me, but when I mentioned that I love hippogriffs, she gave me permission to go down there." She dug in her pie happily.
She had given Hagrid's hut a wide berth and approached it from behind. Then she had climbed up a tree to hide in there.
"I arrived shortly before they all came down the hill: the Minister, his underling, an old chap whose name I don't remember, this horrible Macnair with an axe in his belt, and good old Dumbledore. Then I waited until Macnair had verified that the hippogriff was tethered behind the hut. I didn't want to get Hagrid into trouble, we hippo-lovers must stick together, after all. Before I could get down the tree – guess what – suddenly I saw two students leading the hippogriff away. I first considered to help them, since that was what I had roughly planned beforehand. As they were doing well, I waited until they got Buckbeak off to the forest. I observed that the officials gave up on the execution and left in a very bad mood, together with Dumbledore – he's a good man and was very content. Later Hagrid, too, went away and he was rather tipsy." She laughed. "He was singing aloud. I climbed down the tree and crept back to the castle. I was lucky, the sun had set, and it was getting dark. I even found some bowtruckles. Sprout would be expecting my return by now. She accompanied me to the Winged boars, where we chatted for another while without even mentioning the hippogriff or the execution. I think she guessed something, yet there was a silent agreement between us to say nothing, but to approve of each other…" Roberta drank from her mineral water, her eyes sparkling.
"And now, guess what: When Sprout returned to the castle I looked up and saw the hippogriff again – but this time flying high in the air with Sirius Black of all people on his back! What a bad surprise!"
"Oh, but you didn't tell Jon that Black escaped on the hippogriff."
"You're a good listener," Roberta replied, giving her a shrewd look. "No, I wouldn't want him to know that, Gwen, and please don't tell him." She laid her hand on Gwen's arm. Gwen gave a sudden shiver, which had nothing to do with the temperature inside the inn.
"The Ministry is bad enough with magical creatures, I don't want to mention Buckbeak escaping together with Black if I can avoid it, Gwen, please."
"But Black's a dangerous mass murderer! We need to catch him as soon as we can," Gwen frowned inwardly at herself saying "we" and coughed.
"They are looking for Black everywhere anyway, aren't they?" Roberta answered defiantly. "It's not such an important clue to know how he has escaped."
Gwen shook her head in disbelief. She liked Roberta and didn't want to disappoint her. But a cautious voice inside her asked: Is she really such a hippo-lover that she is willing to incriminate herself? Gwen sighed. What should she do now?
~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~
Friday, 10 June 1994
It was already a quarter to nine. Gwen was eating a hasty breakfast, while musing about her today's tarot card (the Chariot) and the letter she had got. Wookey brought her some scrambled eggs, when Gwen was buttering her toast. Someone knocked at the front door.
Gwen crumpled the letter she had received from Norma by owl. She cannot forget me, and makes every effort to make me not forget her, she thought angrily, instinctively putting on her amethysts, hoping that they would calm her down.
Wookey opened the door slightly, then fully. "Good morning, Miss Carthew," the elf piped, and curtsied.
Gwen hurried to the hallway where the old lady was standing.
"Good Morning, Gwendolyn, how're you?"
"Good morning. Do come in, Miss Carthew."
"No, no, I know you must leave instantly, mustn't you? I just wanted to show you this."
The old lady handed her today's Daily Prophet. Gwen cleaned her glasses and started reading the front page.
Ministry of Magic messes up again:
Captured Murderer Sirius Black escaped.
By Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter
Sirius Black, extremely dangerous mass murderer and ex Azcaban inmate, escaped anew after having been finally arrested on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry yesterday evening.
Although strict security measures had been implemented at Hogwarts School and its surroundings Black apparently succeeded in giving the Dementors the slip, who were about to perform the so-called Kiss, the act of consuming the convicted's soul.
After a week-long and inefficient hunt, it had by no means been the Aurors, but the Hogwarts Potion Master, Professor Severus Snape, who had valiantly taken Black in custody and handed him over to the Ministry officials.
Black had possibly been helped by a former friend of his, Professor L., who has been in the Headmaster's employ since last September, although the latter knew that L. is a werewolf.
To top it all, it was the Minister of Magic himself who oversaw the proceedings, and who now is making the excuse that Black might have been helped by a Confunded and deeply disturbed Harry Potter, which is utterly unlikely since the Boy Who Lived had been hospitalised at that time…
Gwen let her arms drop, and looked at Miss Carthew. "Sorry, Miss Carthew, but I must leave instantly. I suppose there will be a lot of talk and hubbub in the Ministry, and perhaps they'll want to interrogate me, too." She sighed, looking longingly at her breakfast, and thinking of Mrs Beresford.
"No problem, Gwendolyn. I thought so myself. That's exactly why I wanted to show you the newspaper. I know you read it occasionally, but you're not a subscriber. Now hurry."
"But…," Gwen suddenly lowered her voice, and listened for a moment. Wookey had withdrawn to the kitchen. "I've got at least one piece of new information about … well, you know. It seems the death was really caused by an Avada Kedavra, and therefore they can't determine at what time the crime was committed."
Miss Carthew frowned. "Pity," she murmured.
"And Timothy Oakden, the one who reported the murder – I told you about him, do you remember?"
Miss Carthew nodded. "The fellow who works on ghosts and spirits. A blond good-looking wizard, that's him, isn't it?"
Gwen looked at her curiously. She didn't remember having told her that Tim was good-looking. Well, he is handsome, but how does she know? Gwen frowned. Does she look into my brain?
"Yes, that's him," Gwen gave her back the newspaper. "Timothy said he entered his office at eight o'clock and that he didn't notice anything or anyone unusual. And that he was sure that he was alone in the Chamber."
"How can he be?" Miss Carthew asked. "There are a lot of office doors on the walls up in the Death Chamber. The murderer could have hidden in one of the offices."
Gwen nodded slowly. "That's true. Oh, and I remember that Eleanor had told the Aurors that she'd seen someone in black robes. Timothy usually wears blue or dark-green robes."
But is this irrelevant considering the fact that a murderer perhaps wouldn't dress as they usually do, Gwen thought.
"When did Eleanor see that person?" Miss Carthew asked.
"At seven o'clock, much earlier. Maybe that person had left later on. Anyway, Eleanor wasn't sure about it."
"That's really confusing. But let's focus on the facts. Does Timothy always enter at eight o'clock?" Miss Carthew asked.
Gwen shrugged. "I don't know."
"I see. But did the murderer know? Did they suppose or did they know that the Death Chamber would be empty at a certain time, or did they take a risk committing the crime under the Arch?" She drummed her slim fingers on the newspaper. "I must repeat, Gwendolyn, that you must be very careful. Something is very wrong in the Department of Mysteries."
"Don't worry, Miss Carthew. I always take care of myself. Ah – another point is that Jonathan told me that they didn't find any traces of a struggle or fight in the Death Chamber. What do you make of that?"
Miss Carthew looked at her indulgently: "Now, now, Gwendolyn. And what do you make of it?"
"That it was a very powerful wizard?" Gwen looked like a question-mark.
Miss Carthew shook her head slowly. "Maybe. It could mean several things. I remember you telling me that the body was lying face-down on the dais. It could mean that the victim didn't notice his murderer, who crept up on him from behind and cursed him in the back. It may also mean that the victim knew his murderer and didn't expect being killed."
Gwen shivered. She had a sudden vision of a dark-clad figure, lurking behind the Arch of the Death Chamber, moving about silently. She grabbed her amethysts for reassurance.
"You must hurry, Gwendolyn," Miss Carthew said softly, looking at her golden wrist-watch.
"One more point," Gwen remembered. "Something funny. The wand I found on the site of the crime, you know, Mayfield's wand – it was used to cast the Dark Mark, but not the AK."
"Oh," Miss Carthew exclaimed. "Now, that's really interesting!"
~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~