At about one o'clock Isabelle and Gwen entered the Circular Room. Gwen opened the door bearing the blue inscription "Cenaculum". Gwen suddenly felt her stomach rumble, she was really hungry now.
They entered the bright staff restaurant with its vast windows showing a beautiful spring day. The sky was forget-me-not-blue, the sun was shining, and white clouds were drifting by lazily. A meadow with yellow, white and purple crocuses could be seen in the distance. Gwen rolled her eyes. Crocuses in April!
But it was, after all, a far nicer idea than Cornelius Fudge's big photograph, hanging on the wall, and bearing the motivating motto: "There are no mysteries the wizarding world couldn't solve!" Several weeks ago someone had scribbled "not even why he wears such a funny hat" beneath it, but Magical Maintenance had removed the writing shortly after its appearance, and, later on, the photograph altogether.
Honoria beckoned at them. Her brown hair was even wilder than usual. She was eating a mountain of salad that looked delicious. Beside her sat Timothy Oakden, who worked in the Death Chamber on ghosts (and inferi, as some people whispered). With his open, weather-beaten face, broad chin and blond hair he looked like the average seaman, but certainly not like a member of the Death Chamber staff. He laughed heartily at a comment Honoria had made.
"Purple," squeaked Isabelle pointing at the chairs. Maintenance always tried to adapt the colour of the furniture to the fancy weather of the windows, and today the chairs were obviously meant to match with the crocuses.
Gwen nodded grimly. She wondered what people like Crow thought of purple chairs and yellow place mats on purple tables. But, luckily, she could not see him anywhere.
Bob, Firmin and Ademarus were sitting at a table nearby, deep in conversation. Bob was waving his big hands, and Ad seemed to try to shush him. Gwen had the impression that Bob was telling Ad and Firmin about the problem he had encountered with the preservation solution in the tank. Isabelle waved at them with her charming smile.
They approached Honoria and Timothy Oakden.
"Hello, Honoria," said Gwen, "hope you're enjoying your salad. How was the seminar?"
Honoria beamed with enthusiasm: "It was great." She lowered her voice: "At first they had some difficulties with the movements, I mean – staggering on purpose is a bit awkward – but then they got used to it and most of them fell into a pretty deep trance." She looked very satisfied with herself. "T'was a lot of work, though, ten people falling into trance – ten cushioning charms at nearly the same time. It was difficult to do the measurements. I need an assistant urgently."
Isabelle and Gwen laughed and went to the counter to get their food, Isabelle went for the salad, too, while Gwen preferred spaghetti Bolognese with a lot of Parmesan cheese on top. The counter offered an extensive variety of food, and the house-elves working behind it were eager to fulfill any wish the DoM staff might have.
With the help of a hovering spell they moved their trays laden with plates, cutlery, and tumblers full of pumpkin juice back to the table, where Roberta Dunphy had joined Honoria, and Timothy Oakden. When Isabelle and Gwen sat down opposite Honoria and Timothy, Roberta greeted them in her usual friendly way, then resumed her animated conversation with Timothy Oakden.
Gwen stared at her. Roberta worked in the Time Room. She was about 30 years old, had short black hair, and startlingly grey eyes. She wore very sportive clothes, and had her own Hippogriff because she liked riding. She, too, was eating a salad. Isabelle nudged Gwen in the ribs.
"Oi, why was that?" Gwen complained.
"You'd better close your mouth, or you might catch nargles," whispered Isabelle giggling.
Gwen looked at her with dignity.
At this moment, Manisha Cullen appeared at her back with a plate of chicken tikka and rice and asked Timothy in her velvet voice: "Is this seat taken?" Her red lips parted into a cool smile, showing dazzlingly white teeth.
Gwen could tell that Roberta did not like it very much that the black-haired Manisha talked to Timothy, who laughed good-naturedly, and invited her to sit down with them. Manisha was a colleague of Timothy's, yet not a Ministry employee. She researched on rebirth and reincarnation, and her position was sponsored by Dr Rajesh Daryapurkar, a Hindi millionaire. Besides financing the research project he certainly had had to pay a lot for obtaining approval to station Manisha inside the DoM, and use the Arch.
Manisha looked at Roberta with her big long-lashed black eyes, then turned to Timothy.
"How are you, Tim? I have not seen you all morning. I was so absorbed in my work." She sighed, and took up the rice with the help of some bread, her shiny red fingernails flashing.
Then Eleanor, from the Planet Room, arrived, accompanied by her husband. Archibald Dusk was a short wizard clad in black robes, his hair was dark brown with some streaks of grey. When he smiled, a lot of tiny wrinkles crinkled at the corners of his soft eyes.
"Can we sit with you?" Eleanor asked in a soft voice.
"Of course," said Honoria, beaming at her. Eleanor sat beside Honoria while Archibald took the seat beside Gwen. While Manisha asked Timothy about his wife, Roberta looking daggers at her, Honoria began to chat with Eleanor. Gwen took her eyes off Roberta, and silently continued eating her spaghetti.
"So how are you doing in the Planet Room, Eleanor? You couldn't tell us this morning."
"Ah, fine, I hope" she answered again. "At the moment they make me mark the planets."
"Mark them?" Isabelle asked curiously.
"Yes," she said lowering her voice as Honoria had done before. They were all supposed to not talk too openly about their work, yet they did so to a certain extent in their own staff restaurant, and with a reasonable amount of discretion.
"When a star explodes in the universe, they make me fly to the respective model of the star, you know, and I mark it, so they can make it explode in their universe model, too. And when a new star is born, I have to go there and mark the spot, so they can let it grow there."
"How do you do that?" Gwen's interest was also aroused.
"I fly there with a broom. A special broom. But I think I should not tell you anymore now." She looked at them uncertainly.
"Yes, my dear, I think you should leave it at that," agreed her husband who had not contributed to the conversation until now. He continued eating his potatoes.
To fill in the sudden silence Honoria brought up the topic of the Sirius Black hunt, and the Aurors who couldn't find the fugitive, and all joined in eagerly.
~ooOOoo~
Timothy was the first to leave, he had to go to the Spirit Division on Level Four. Roberta left shortly afterwards, while Manisha asked Gwen whether she fancied a smoke with her in the smoking room, which was also on Level Four.
Gwen looked astonished, since apart from the usual polite formalities Manisha had never talked to her a lot. Gwen usually went there with James Croaker, the only other smoker in the Brain Room, but he was on leave. She hesitated. She had not made a lot of progress with Ernie, and should have another go at it now. On the other hand, it might be an interesting step towards intra-departmental communication, if she went with Manisha – and she really fancied a smoke. So she agreed.
~ooOOooOOooOOoo~
The cool female voice made its usual announcement for the fourth level as Manisha and Gwen got out and headed for the smoking room. On their way, a heavily-built wizard with small piercing eyes and a black moustache passed them and gave Manisha a nod. She nodded back, rather unwillingly.
"Who was that?" asked Gwen, unable to repress her curiosity.
"Walden Macnair, he works for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures," Manisha answered somewhat reluctantly, stroking her black hair.
"Oh – one cannot always chose one's position," replied Gwen doubtfully, but did not dare ask Manisha why she knew Macnair. Manisha suddenly grinned at her. "Sure."
"Here we are." Manisha opened the door and they entered the only smoking room of the Ministry of Magic.
Several witches and wizards were standing or sitting around little round tables with full ashtrays. The air was thick with smoke from cigarettes and cigars. House-elves served coffee, tea, and pumpkin juice. Gwen recognised Vivi, who was talking to a tall red-haired wizard Gwen didn't know, while Manisha returned Evelyn Anderson's greeting.
Another Death Chamber staff member, Evelyn worked on poisons and potions. Her position was partly sponsored by the Wallace and Avalon Apothecary. The plump witch with the long brown hair joined them while Manisha lit her cigarette with a small Incendio spell.
"Good afternoon, Manisha," Evelyn beamed. "And you're Gwendolyn Bale, aren't you?"
"Yes," Gwen answered. She couldn't say anymore, since outside the DoM they were not allowed to talk about their work. "You're Evelyn Anderson, I know." They shook hands.
The three stood together companionably, smoking, blowing blue rings into the fumy air, observing other people, and talking about the weather, the Black hunt, and Quidditch. Manisha seemed to be a real fan and plunged into a profound analysis as to why the Toyohoshi Tengu, the Japanese team, had narrowly lost against Lithuania. Evelyn nodded at her comments, but didn't seem to know as much about Quidditch as Manisha did. She pointed at a witch nearby.
"That's Bertha Jorkins, isn't it?" she whispered.
Gwen didn't know, but Manisha nodded: "Yes, that's her, but what does she want here? She does not smoke."
"She's become rather forgetful recently," Evelyn giggled under her breath. "She's now in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. I heard she's changed departments quite often, I think no one really wants to work with her."
Gwen did not say anything. She was careful with people who gossiped about others so freely. "How long will you be with us, by the way?" she heard herself asking suddenly.
Evelyn looked at her, grinning. "Oh, I think I will stay for a longer time, since the Ministry is also very interested in my studies," she beamed, but did not, of course, elaborate.
Bertha Jorkins had left the smoking room by now, evidently realising that she didn't belong there.
After a while Vivi joined the three of them, and after some companionable ten minutes of discussing the poor ventilation of the smoking room ("why don't we try a ventilation charm?") they all left to return to their department.
~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~
In the evening Isabelle and Gwen were on their way to the gilded fireplaces in the Atrium. When they stopped in front of a right-hand side fireplace, Gwen slapped herself on the forehead.
"I forgot to get floo powder again," she moaned.
"Never mind, take some of mine," Isabelle laughed, offering Gwen her beautiful beige-coloured silk pouch.
"But I forgot it yesterday, and I will need some tomorrow to come here."
Gwen had half a mind to return to the lifts.
"Mais non, just take some more from mine so you'll have enough for tomorrow. Then tomorrow morning first thing you'll go to the FNA. Don't you worry. You've just told me you are going to visit your neighbours now, you don't want to keep them waiting."
Gwen sighed and accepted the offered floo powder.
"You're an angel, you know."
"Maybe," Isabelle beamed at her.
~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~
Coming home was lovely. Napoleon greeted her as was his custom, rubbing his head against her legs, and miaowing loudly.
"Hi Nap," she answered smiling, bending over to pat his back.
In the hallway she put her violet cloak on a hanger and went to the kitchen to give him some cat-food.
Wookey, the house-elf, had obviously cleaned the kitchen, prepared some tea, and lit the coal-furnace before Gwen returned home. This evening Wookey wasn't here to cook Gwen's dinner, since she helped Miss Carthew, who had invited Gwen and Hugh. Wookey served not only Gwen, but all the three neighbours of this settlement. Since neither of them needed a house-elf for their own, they had decided to share the services of one house-elf, and Wookey was very content with the arrangement. She had a tiny room in Miss Carthew's cottage, since it was the biggest of the three.
Gwen dropped into Napoleon's favourite chair to relax for a while. She put her feet onto a small stool and sipped her tea. When Napoleon finished his dinner, he immediately jumped onto her lap purring like a small Diesel engine. She began stroking his black fur.
After she had finished her tea she changed her robes, combed her curls, and left her cottage, while Nap glared at her with indignation when she said goodbye to him.
Outside she took a deep breath. She loved the air smelling of salt and the sound of the waves breaking against the rocks.
~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~