"Ahhh – here she is!" Miss Carthew opened the door smiling. "So nice you could make it, my dear. How are you? Do come in, please."
The old lady led her through the hallway into her cosy dining room with the flowered wallpaper, where Hugh was already sitting on one of the old-fashioned chairs. Hugh got up to welcome her.
Gwen greeted him and sat onto one of the chairs. The table was already laid, and Gwen admired Miss Carthew's Staffordshire plates for the umpteenth time, when Wookey came in, bowed and served dinner – roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with beans, roast potatoes and gravy.
They usually did not talk much during Miss Carthew's dinners. They enjoyed the food, and the peace.
Afterwards they changed to the parlour, where Miss Carthew and Gwen sipped a sherry, Gwen smoked a cigarette, and Hugh took a firewhiskey. A fire was crackling in the chimney, and its cheerful glow lighted Miss Carthew's wispy white hair.
"Yesterday, I went to Tinworth to buy some ingredients I need to brew my rheumatism salve, which I have done today," Miss Carthew told them. "This rainy weather is a challenge for my poor back and knees. I hope I'll be better soon, it is high time for the spring pruning." Her green eyes sparkled.
Gwen smiled. Miss Carthew loved her roses, and, though slightly rheumatic, was happiest when she could garden, and the result was really breathtaking. Muggles wouldn't understand how she succeeded in growing such beautiful roses on the sandy stony soil by her cottage, but she used, of course, also a bit of magic on them.
"What's new with you, Hugh?"
Hugh shrugged. "Got a big job today. 'bout twenty children's broomsticks from a day nursery. Require a complete overhaul. Better than buying new ones."
Hugh Kendall was a freelance broomstick manufacturer and repairer. He got jobs from all over Britain and Ireland, and was a very versatile craftsman.
He took a gulp of firewhiskey.
"The children were eager to know how long it'd take me to repair their brooms. They don't fly high, of course, but nevertheless they love riding them." He chuckled. "I'll have to hurry with this job."
Gwen and Hugh had known each other from Tutshill since they had been children. They had lost contact several years ago, when first Gwen had gone to London, then later Hugh had moved to this place to be able to help his brother Joshua once in while. When Gwen had looked for a new peaceful home about a year ago, he had offered her to help refurbish the empty cottage next door.
Hugh got up with a satisfied grunt, and said: "I'll have a look at this dripping tap of yours."
"But not now, my dear! There will be time for that another day."
"Na', Miss Carthew, don't you worry. With this," he showed her his brand-new magical adjustable wrench, and a tin of sparkling fitting grease, "it'll be no problem at all, I'll be back in a jiffy. Just have to check what kind of seal you need." He put everything in his tool box and left the room.
The old lady sat down again, sighing: "What would we do without our good Hugh?"
Gwen nodded appreciatively.
"And what's new with you, my dear?" Miss Carthew asked, while taking up her usual needlework.
As Miss Carthew had worked in the DoM when she had been younger, Gwen was at ease to talk shop with her once in a while.
"Hem, there was a problem with the liquid in the brain tank," she whispered, looking at the door. "And Bob detected …that a certain ingredient was diluted."
Miss Carthew looked up. "Something toxic?" she asked shrewdly.
Gwen nodded. "Yep. But he is investigating, he is usually very careful and diligent, so he'll find out soon enough." She sipped her sherry.
Miss Carthew cocked her head. Gwen couldn't deceive her, she looked worried.
"Hem. But maybe it's just an error by the manufacturer of the runespoor venom," Miss Carthew mused.
Gwen gaped at her. "How do you know that it was…?"
"Oh," she smiled, "there aren't so many toxic ingredients in that liquid. And when I worked for the Department many many years ago, we, too, had that problem. The runespoor is a three-headed snake, but only the venom from the right head's fangs is poisonous. So if the manufacturer takes the wrong fangs …" She didn't finish her sentence, but just held up her hands.
"Oh! I'll tell Bob." Gwen looked relieved. Perhaps that was indeed the solution to the mystery?
"Apart from that they are all talking about the Sirius Black hunt," she told her.
At precisely that moment Hugh re-entered the room. He caught her last sentence.
"It's the same in town." 'Town' meant Tinworth. "They talk about that everywhere." 'They', again, meant the wizarding community there.
"I am starting to admire Black for escaping that flock of Aurors who are behind him." He scratched his beard. Gwen gave a laugh since she had been thinking along the same lines.
Miss Carthew thanked him profusely for his work, but he waved it off, smiling.
"One of the nursery school teachers was particularly nervous since somebody had written to the Tinworth Daily affirming they'd seen Black some miles from Tinworth in an abandoned mine. I can't believe it." He shook his head. "Probably only seen some mad pixies," he added.
They all laughed. Miss Carthew offered more sherry and firewhiskey, which they accepted gladly.
~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~
Wednesday, 20 April 1994
Gwendolyn woke early and sat up in her bed, surprised. Through the window opposite her she could see the first greyish streaks at the horizon, the sun had not risen yet. She shuddered and drew the blanket up to her shoulders. In the dimness she groped for her round red alarmclock. "Five o'clock," it whispered. "Go on sleeping if you like." She was not an early riser, but this morning she felt wide awake.
After listening for a while to the sound of the waves crushing against the cliffs in the distance, she took her glasses from the bedside locker, and put them on. She rolled her shoulders, for they felt a bit stiff, then got up and put on her purple dressing gown.
Still shivering slightly she went to the kitchen to light a fire in the furnace with a flick of her wand, and put on the kettle, before she went to the bathroom. Napoleon had not returned yet, he probably was still hunting mice outside.
When she returned the kitchen was comfortably warm, and the water in the kettle was boiling. She prepared her tea, and extracted a stack of tarot cards from a dark-blue satin pouch, which was lying on her cupboard. Honoria had introduced her and Isabelle in the art of cartomancy some months ago, and since then she 'practised' every morning, drawing one card for the day. At Hogwarts she had never taken Divination, so it was all new and exciting for her.
"Page of Swords," she whispered. She meditated for a while, sipping her tea, looking at the card showing a young man holding a sword in both hands. On a whim she assumed the Page's pose. It feels like defending yourself. Like being on the alert. Ready to protect yourself.
Then in spite of being up early she felt suddenly hungry. She prepared some eggs and bacon, and buttered some scones. Napoleon, who had probably smelled the food, entered through the cat flap and miaowed loudly.
They both took an early breakfast. Gwen enjoyed the beautiful colours of the the sunrise, which she could see through her kitchen window. She wondered whether she should make use of the early hour and get some tidying up done, but then opted against this idea, and started to flick through the Tinworth Daily Hugh had lent her yesterday night.
At eight o'clock she decided to leave for work. Being early for once would make a good impression, especially after having been a bit late yesterday, she thought grinning.
Remembering the card she had drawn she put on her rock crystal pendant before she took her violet cloak, her leather bag, and her wand. It might be useful today.
~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~
Gwen resumed her tests with Ernie, but the results were nearly the same as before. She was verifying and comparing the long rows of figures, when Ad came out of his office. He did not show the slightest surprise at seeing Gwen as early as eight o'clock in the morning.
"Morning Gwendolyn," he said in a hurry. "Could you do me a favour? Mr Crow got Mrs Hill's permission to be introduced in our Extracting method, I mean our technique to extract memories from a conserved brain. Could you please show him how to do that? I have to help Isabelle with the Indicimaginis spell, it is not stable and she can't do it alone."
Gwen looked at him in horror. "Me? Couldn't I help her with the spell? It was, after all, my idea, I mean – looking for images within a wave…"
"That's true, but I am the best at casting this spell. We developed it two years ago to show images inside a brain, without the need of a pensieve. Do you know how it works?"
Gwen shook her head. "Just the basics. But I will learn it," she tried feebly.
"Yeah, we'll show you one of these days. But meanwhile…," he opened his arms apologetically.
Gwen sighed and nodded. "All right, I'll do it. But not this morning. I promised Vivi to meet that Maguire prospect."
"Do you work with Vivi now?" Ad raised his eyebrows in astonishment.
"No, of course not, but he seems a tough guy, and she wanted some support to convince him. He's from Tutshill, where I was born, so she thought it would be a good idea to bring me into the deal. He owns a lot of medieval clocks. Roberta from the Time Room is coming, too." She did not want to say the last sentence, but couldn't stop herself.
"Is that a priority?" Ad interrupted her, obviously appalled.
"I … think so. And, apart from that, I promised her a week ago. The meeting is this morning. I can't help it."
"Ok. I'll inform Mr Crow that you'll meet him in the afternoon, all right?"
Gwen nodded her approval. She'd tell Ademarus about the renewed abnormal results later. No need to upset him even more.
When Bob Warnock turned up with a big bottle full of violet liquid, and a new brain in a small tank, she got up to tell him about Miss Carthew's theory of the wrong runespoor fangs.
He looked at her with interest. "Yes, that's a good idea. That would explain why some vials had the correct concentration and others had not. I thought of that, too, but it's difficult to prove."
He scratched his brown hair. "Thanks anyway, Gwen. Perhaps I'll talk to Evelyn Anderson from the Death Chamber, she knows a lot about poisons. But then, I do not know whether she can keep silence…" He bit his lips and even blushed a little. Gwen grinned as she remembered Evelyn's gossiping in the smoking room.
"Yes, I see. But remember that Suplinius Crow was here, too."
Bob looked at her. "That's true. But he is not the chatty type."
Gwen nodded: "Certainly not."
~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~