Gwen finished her interim report on one of the violet-coloured sheets, copied it with the Geminio spell and sent the flying memos to Agatha Hill, and Mrs Beresford.
She returned to the Brain Room, where she found Bob preparing the big brain tank for the week-end.
"Hi Bob, is Isabelle still here?"
"I am not sure, Gwen, I think she's still in her – well – your office."
Gwen thanked him and headed for their office.
"Hi there, " said Isabelle, delighted. She interrupted her scribbling on a long piece of parchment, and took off her reading glasses.
The window showed a beautiful sunny sky.
"Just wanted to ask whether there is anything new with you, or whether I can lend you a hand?" Gwen asked.
"Bon alors, I'm just consolidating our findings, and the variation of the spell we are using now. I am trying to get an overview, which might perhaps give us some new ideas of how to proceed."
She showed Gwen her first draft. Gwen studied it.
"Hem, interesting. Seems that we must try to stabilise the Indicimaginis variation – in order to be able to examine the waves, or images, or whatever it may be," Gwen suggested.
"Yes. Now that I've managed the spell at last, this might be my job from now on. But we also want to continue examining the brain sector where the Legilimency, or the triggering and receipt of those waves, happens."
"Oh, that sounds fascinating," Gwen sighed, knitting her hands.
"Eh bien, and what about your work," Isabelle asked, jerking her head in the direction of the Death Chamber.
"I succeeded in extracting a usable memory," Gwen beamed. "I hope to extract some more next week. It still won't be easy, I'm afraid a lot of memories have already gone, before the brain could be conserved… But the magic works now at last, and I'll do what I can. I only wished Jon was back."
"Where is he?" Isabelle asked, startled.
"Oh, I didn't have a chance to tell you – he's gone since Monday. Oh dear, and of course, I'm not allowed to tell you where. Well, not even to tell you that he's gone, I suppose."
"Never mind. So you've been alone with Crow all week?"
"Yep."
Isabelle grinned. "Must have been fantastic, I can tell from your happy countenance. How did you like the Gym this afternoon?"
"Er… it was …nice." Gwen sighed, "perhaps I'll get better if we go there more often."
"That's the spirit! And you'll see Roberta more often, too," Isabelle winked, waving her hands elegantly in that typical gesture of hers. Gwen flushed furiously.
"Don't be shy, ma chère. What about Rob's proposal to join her at the Quidditch World Cup final?"
"Oh, Isabelle, that would be wonderful and dreadful at once. I haven't a clue about Quidditch! I'd make a complete fool of myself."
"But you've been at Hogwarts, haven't you? You certainly have seen a Quidditch match?"
"Yes, of course, once or twice, but I found it awfully boring."
"Perhaps Manisha can explain a bit when you go with her to the smoking room."
"But what's the use anyhow?" Gwen asked, a bit desperate. "She and I are too different, aren't we? She's so brave, and athletic, healthy and strong…"
Isabelle laughed good-naturedly.
"Don't laugh at me, while I am pouring out my heart in front of you. Besides I think she doesn't even know that… what is going on. And what's more: I think she even might be in love with Timothy."
"With Timothy? Mais non! He's married. He has two children." Isabelle paused to think. "Parbleu, but so had my husband."
Isabelle had divorced her former husband, the children lived with her and her mother, and went to their father's home once a week and every second week-end.
"I really don't think Timothy would betray his wife. It's certainly just your complex d'inferiorité," she added.
Gwen looked at her: "Thanks for cheering me up," she pouted.
"Bon, alors, I'd like to go to the final, if you don't mind, I mean, in case you wanted to be alone with…"
"Don't be silly! I'd love you to come. I'd even say I'd only have the courage to go if you are coming, too."
"I could take Nicolas along, he's old enough," Isabelle pondered. "And Baptiste could stay with his papa."
Gwen took up Isabelle's draft again: "You know what? We could try to make a photograph during the seconds the images appear."
"Now, that's a brilliant idea," Isabelle exclaimed. "I'll ask Bob for the camera. And regarding the final – don't forget that the two of us have to apply for leave. It starts on 22 August, I've looked it up: that's a Monday. Ademarus won't be amused if the Brain Room suddenly empties."
"You are right. And we must ask Roberta to get us tickets."
Isabelle hurried out of their office to get the camera.
~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~
Thursday, 2 June 1994
It was still early in the morning, the office was cool and Gwen shivered in spite of her long-sleeved purple robes, her black wool cardigan and her pink scarf.
The wormwood was singing Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka-dot Bikini, but it still sounded very feeble.
Carefully, patiently, she pointed her wand at the gyri and sulci of the victim's brain trying to detect a hidden memory, while Crow tried to stop the brain from wobbling, and resisting Gwen's search.
"There," Crow pointed his pale long finger on a crevice deep down and Gwen tried to get at the gossamer strand. She bit her lips while she concentrated on the memory.
"Got it!" she whispered excitedly. It was really diminutive.
Muttering a spell, she put the strand into a vial containing the violet-coloured liquid.
"Where did you put the pensieve?" Crow asked, frowning, and looking around.
"Oh no!" Gwen slapped her forehead. "Yesterday evening, I brought it back to the Brain Room, since Bob told me Honoria needed it to…," she stopped. "I'll go and get it."
She missed Crow's snort, since at this moment Mrs Beresford entered, and wished them a good morning. Last Monday she had told Gwen that Jon was still working with the task force near Hogwarts, and that the outlook looked rather promising (whatever that meant). She had thanked her for her report, and Gwen was really glad their relationship had become somewhat more relaxed – quite different from the one with Crow.
Mrs Beresford sat down at the desk she and Jon usually used and searched through some papers. Gwen left the office and rushed to the Brain Room.
~ooOOoo~
"Where is the pensieve?" she asked Bob. "I need it urgently."
Bob disappeared into his office, and returned with outstretched arms: "Sorry, I'm afraid Honoria still hasn't brought it back. Yesterday she took it with her to the Hall of Prophecies." He frowned. "That's why I hate giving the thing away," he complained, frowning. "Where is she now?"
Gwen didn't know what to do. She knew that Honoria was a bit muddle-headed and often left her things lying around (she usually forgot something on the rare occasions of her visit at Gwen's cottage). At the moment, there was still a lime-coloured scarf in Gwen's house.
"Perhaps we should have a look at her office?" Gwen suggested. They both tried to open it, but the door was shut.
"Never mind," said Gwen, not wanting to use an Alohomora spell on Hon's office door. "I'll go looking for her in the Hall of Prophecies. Perhaps you could inform me if she turns up here?"
"Yes, of course. I'll send you a memo, all right?"
Gwen nodded.
"Do you know where Honoria is?" Bob asked Firmin, who had just emerged from his office, carrying a picker-arm and a small glass tank.
Firmin shook his head: "I haven't seen her this morning, but – what. It's still early."
"I'm off, perhaps she's in the Hall of Prophecies." Gwen went to the Circular Room, and entered the Time Room.
~ooOOoo~
"And why in the name of Merlin haven't I been informed earlier?" a voice boomed through the Time Room, causing the huge crystal bell jar to vibrate slightly. Everyone interrupted their work, and Gwen froze on the spot.
She knew Roxanne Wingfield, the Time Room Manager, by sight, a stout short woman with grey hair, which she wore in a bun. She was usually a quiet and level-headed witch, so everyone held their breath as she exploded like a bomb. Roberta and her colleague Graham were standing in front of her, looking crestfallen.
"We were hoping to find them, but …," Graham started explaining, when Roberta interrupted him and pointed to Gwen.
Gwen came forward, trying to ignore Roxanne's outburst. "Good morning, everyone," she smiled feebly. "Sorry to disturb, just passing to the Hall." She looked at Roberta, who shook her head almost unnoticeably, and proceeded rapidly to the vast Hall of Prophecies.
~ooOOoo~
Mabel Tancock was standing on a ladder, putting a glass orb onto one of the towering shelves. When Gwen approached her she turned to look down at her, holding a torch in her left hand.
"What do you want?" she said, in a not exactly friendly manner.
"Good morning, Mrs Tancock, I'm looking for Honoria Brum. Have you by any chance seen her in this Hall this morning?"
"No," Mabel Tancock, the victim's ex-wife, replied tersely. She stepped down the ladder and stopped shortly before Gwen, holding the torch above her head.
"I know you. Aren't you Eleanor's friend?" she whispered in a harsh voice, her brown eyes shining in a strange way. The torch sputtered, sending glittering lights and shadows all over the shelves.
"N…no, I am not exactly her friend," Gwen answered, drawing back, and instinctively grabbing her rock crystal pendant for support. "It so happens that I was just at the right place at the right time." She wondered why she said that, but trusted, for once, her intuition.
Mrs Tancock looked suddenly very sad. "At the right time. Yes, that's a problem, isn't it? To be at the right place at the right time." She gave a gloomy laugh.
"What do you mean by this, Mrs Tancock?"
"I have the feeling that recently I have often been at the wrong place at the wrong time." She suddenly checked herself. "Aren't you the one who is examining – ?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Gwen replied, pulling her cardigan tighter around her. The Hall was as chilly as the Death Chamber. I assume that by now everyone in the DoM knows what Crow and I are working on.
She wondered whether she could ask Mabel Tancock what her ex-husband had to do with Walden Macnair, but was afraid that if she did, Mrs Beresford would hear of her attempts at sleuthing. On the other hand – I am supposed to "support" the investigation, she thought.
Mabel Tancock didn't ask any further questions: "Miss Brum came here yesterday. She left very late in the evening, so I had to wait till she was gone."
"Do you remember whether she carried a pensieve with her?"
"Yes, she took it with her, she didn't leave it here."
"May I ask you a question, Ms Tancock?" Gwen gave a deep sigh.
Mabel Tancock nodded, now looking wary.
"Do you know Walden Macnair?" Gwen cocked her head. "Or have you ever heard this name from – your former husband?"
Mabel Tancock looked at her, aghast. "I know the name. But I … don't approve of this person. And I certainly don't know him personally. Nor can I imagine that Archibald ever had any dealings with him while we were married."
~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~