Thursday, 4 August 1994
"I definitely think we should conclude our common project."
Gwen whirled around, looking baffled. "What do you mean?"
Crow drew himself up, his lips curling. "Our co-operation on this brain," he pointed on the victim's brain in the tank containing the shimmering greenish liquid, "started more than three months ago. Our results, so far, have been scarce."
"But only yesterday…," Gwen protested. They had used one of those complicated spells she had found in Rekindling Memories of the Dead, and succeeded in extracting a series of tiny memory strands. If Mrs Beresford had been surprised at them both extinguishing the lights, drawing the curtains, lighting seven black and three red candles, burning copal resin, Gwen babbling and singing, and Crow trying to concentrate on the wand movements, she had not let it show. Instead, she had searched for her cigarillos and left the room.
Now Gwen had been in the process of disentangling the flimsy strands.
Crow waved her objection aside. "I have more urgent work to do. I'll apply for the conclusion of this co-operation."
"But we are making progress," Gwen insisted. "Our job is to extract memories from this brain, and that's what we have been and will be doing. No-one expects quick miracles."
"But we haven't found out anything," Crow argued. "It's useless work." He looked at the tank scornfully.
Gwen sighed. So that's what Ten of Swords meant this morning, flashed through her mind.
"That's not true. We've extracted several memories. We've found out … some things which might be important for the Aurors. It's not our business to determine when our project is ended, that's for Mrs Hill to decide."
Her shot had gone home. She knew him enough by now to realise that, even though Crow looked at her unfathomably, he was furious.
"That's why I'll go and tell her my opinion, and ask her to stop this." His voice now sounded a bit higher than usual.
He turned around, and left the room, his black robes billowing behind him.
Gwen frowned, annoyed, and stomped her foot exactly the moment Jonathan entered.
"Hi there, what's the matter, love?" He hurried towards her, availing himself of the opportunity to kiss her hastily. Mrs Beresford could make an appearance any moment.
Gwen seized him by his shoulders and kissed him back, somewhat longer.
"I am angry with Crow. He wants to abandon our project."
"That'd be fine, so you can work on it alone, can't you?"
"But he wants to ask Mrs Hill to stop it altogether. Says we don't achieve any results. Which is not true." She crossed her arms in anger. "I'm not sure Agatha Hill would let me work on it alone – in here, I mean. There are rules for Unspeakles not working in their own Mystery department. And it's so unfair, we've just extracted another memory." She pointed to a vial in the cabinet on the wall.
"Now, then, I wonder why he's behaving so stubbornly," Jonathan said slowly.
Gwen looked up. "What do you mean?"
"Perhaps he has a reason to interrupt your investigations…"
"But he's got an alibi for the time of the purchase…"
"Shhhh," Jonathan put his finger on his lips, as he heard someone approaching the door. It flew open and the impressive figure of Mrs Beresford appeared in the frame, clad, as was her custom, in emerald green robes.
"Good afternoon," she announced in her deep manly voice. Jonathan hastily sat down at his desk.
Gwen, too, sat down and pondered. She looked at the vials, in which she had inserted the memory strands. Mrs Beresford and Jon were conversing in low voices.
"I'll try and research this in my own office," Gwen got up, and put the vials gingerly in her old leather bag. Mrs Beresford looked at her.
"Why?" the latter asked, frowning.
"Because I need the pensieve," Gwen explained with a sigh. "And as far as I know Ademarus needs it, too. It'll be easier to work in the Brain Room – since Mr Crow is absent at the moment. I'll report any new findings to you as soon as possible."
And with that, she left the chilly office, leaving Jonathan staring at her, with his mouth slightly open, and Mrs Beresford frowning even deeper than before. She knew that she was setting a precedent, it being quasi illegal to take insights and products from one Room to another. I'm doing cross-functional work after all, she thought defiantly, but was glad when she had left the Death Chamber without Mrs Beresford ordering her to return.
~ooOOoo~
Carrying her leather bag under her arms, Gwen went to the Smoking Room on Level Four. Before she started to analyse the strands she needed a well-deserved cigarette break.
I don't care for Crow wanting to end our cooperation, she thought stubbornly, knowing at the same time that it wasn't true. Even though she didn't like the chilly office, she was by now curious to find out more about Archibald and who his murderer was, and she hoped to contribute her own share to the murder enquiry.
While she entered the Smoking Room, which was nearly empty at this time of day, she pondered why Crowwanted to quit their cooperation.
"Good afternoon, Miss Bale," someone said to her.
She looked up. She hadn't noticed Alex Campbell. The white-bearded slender Death Chamber wizard was sitting on a wooden stool, smoking a pipe.
He beckoned her to join him, so she sat down at his side, extracting a packet of cigarettes. Alex Campbell lighted her cigarette with a flick of his wand.
„How are you doing?" he asked her politely. „We haven't had many opportunities to talk, have we? I do hope you feel fine in our Chamber. Unfortunately I'm not allowed to enter the ... office you're working in, otherwise I'd have looked after you more frequently."
An elf approached, and Gwen ordered an espresso. Alex Campbell took a sip of coffee, and continued smoking his pipe.
„That's very considerate of you, thanks, Mr Campbell," Gwen smiled. She knew by now that Alex Campbell occupied a superior position in the Death Chamber. „I'm all right. The only thing I still have to get used to is the chill," she tried to sound cheery.
He let out a melodious laughter and puffed at his pipe. „Do you know for how long you're going to work in our midst?"
Gwen looked at him, musing, and dragging at her cigarette. „No, Mr Campbell, I really can't say."
"That's all right," he answered hastily, and lowered his voice. "I'm just worried, and hope that you'll soon find out who … killed our colleague." His expression clouded.
She tried to change the subject: „May I ask you a question?"
He looked at her, eyes twinkling, and nodded.
"How long have you been working in the Chamber?"
He raised his brows in surprise. The service elf brought Gwen's espresso and a mineral water.
„Oh, a good many decades by now," he answered complacently.
„Do you know perhaps a Miss Carthew?" Gwen went on. She had forgotten to ask Miss Carthew whether she knew Campbell. After all it seemed quite possible, even though she was perhaps a bit older than him.
He stroke his short beard, and continued puffing at his pipe. „Well, the name sounds familiar. How does she look? And where should I know her from?"
„She used to work in the DoM, but retired some years ago," Gwen now wondered whether it was really a good idea to reveal her connection to Miss Carthew.
„Is she a very clever lady with short hair?"
„Yes, that's her," Gwen smiled and took a sip of espresso.
„Yes, I remember her. But she worked in a different section of the DoM – let me think... No, I don't remember where. Do you know?"
Gwen shook her head. Miss Carthew had worked in several DoM sections, but Gwen didn't want to go into too much detail. „No, I don't know." He certainly would believe her. Unspeakables weren't allowed to talk too much about their work.
„It's a small world," Campell remarked, pulling hard at his pipe. „How come you know her?"
„She's my neighbour," Gwen suddenly felt uneasy. Perhaps she shouldn't have mentioned Miss Carthew at all. She finished her espresso and mineral water, stubbed out her cigarette and grabbed her bag.
„I must return to work," she proffered him her hand. „Nice to have met you in here, Mr Campbell."
He nodded to her with a friendly smile.
~ooOOoo~
After pushing a large stack of parchments and memos aside to make room on her desk, she put the vials with the memories in a neat row.
As Isabelle was still on leave, the office provided the peace and quiet which she now needed. She listened intently. No noise from outside entered her office, it was really sound-proof.
She added the usual five drops of pale pink liquid to the silvery mist inside the pensieve, which she had obtained from Bob, who had been really glad that, this time, she was going to stay with it in the Brain Room instead of taking it with her to the Death Chamber. Gwen opened one of the vials, and extracted the memory strand inside it with the help of her wand. She watched the whirling mists for some seconds, then dived into the pensieve.
Archibald was standing near the dais, looking at the ancient stone archway.
„Archibald." Alex Campbell was sitting behind him on the lowest stone bench, obviously not minding or perhaps not even feeling the cold „I know that something's wrong. Why don't you tell me? We've known each other for years."
Archibald turned around and looked at him, his face a picture of agony and despair. The black veil fluttered eerily, some voices could be heard.
„It's not what you think," he started.
Then the memory started to blur; Gwen cursed under her breath and left the pensieve. Grumbling she extracted the strand from the pensieve; repeated the whole procedure to insert the next memory, which was awfully tiny.
Archibald shut the door to his office behind himself and his wife. Jacobus Mayfield was working at his desk. Eleanor started to make tea, while Archie put three mugs on the desk. Gwen gave a little start because one was the light-blue mug she already knew.
„Darjeeling, love?" Eleanor asked. Archibald nodded, stroking her golden hair. "And you, Mr Mayfield?"
Again the scene began fading away, and Gwen, now nearly desperate, went up again. Ten of Swords is really a hopeless outlook, she thought grimly, remembering anew her today's Tarot card.
Once more she extracted a memory, this one seemed to be a bit longer.
Archibald and Jacobus Mayfield were standing side by side at a desk in their office, pointing their wands at a beautiful golden goblet. Suddenly a loud knock sounded on the office door.
They looked at each other questioningly. „Who could that be?" Mayfield hissed. Archibald just shrugged. They laid their wands aside, and turned around, obviously trying to conceal the object in question.
„Enter!" Mayfield called, carefully placing himself between the goblet and the intruder.
The door opened and in came Vivi Gregorius, her platinum blonde spiky shock of hair and bright red robes completely out of place in the gloomy office.
Gwen held her breath while the memory faded again.
Frowning she got up again, looking around in her own office for something to drink. She decided to make a tea before continuing to look at the other memories. At this moment she heard a knock on her door.
She was tempted to get up and put herself in front of the vials to conceal them just like Archibald and Mayfield had done with the goblet, but there were five of them, and the pensieve, so it was impossible to do so.
„Who's there?" she asked, moving over to the door, opening it ajar. It was Honoria, today clad in eggplant-coloured flowing robes, and adorned with a single beautiful tourmaline pendant on her chest.
„Hi Gwen!" she beamed at her. „Bob told me you were in here. There's a memo for you."
Gwen took the violet-coloured memo Honoria handed her. „Thanks, Hon." She gave her an apologetic smile, and shut the door again. She leant against the door, took a deep breath and opened the memo:
‚Dear Gwen, please come to my office as soon as you can. Thanks in advance, Agatha Hill.'
~ooOOoo~