Sunday, 26 June 1994

"Comment?" Isabelle's eyes widened. "I thought you are… you fancy Roberta?"

"I do," Gwen answered feebly. They were drinking tea in Gwen's sitting room. Outside a fine drizzle was falling. The window was open, the soft air entering the room from outside smelled earthy and fresh. "That's why I feel so bad. Jonathan is very nice, but I am not madly in love with him."

"Though I sometimes noticed that you were interested in him, too." Isabelle grinned. "You are a little butterfly, aren't you?"

Gwen sighed deeply. "I wouldn't express it like this. I like him, I… I love him. I like Roberta, too. I sometimes think my heart is very big. Is that morally reprehensible?"

I had to tell someone or I would have burst, she thought. She had served a Darjeeling tea, and some shortbread. Isabelle, who never ate very much, munched happily on a tiny piece.

Then she looked at her, now in earnest. "You know that I know you and I know that it isn't. But others would think that it is. You have to be honest to him."

Gwen nodded, feeling a bit better. It was always good to share one's thoughts, even though one didn't reach a final solution.

"Eh bien, and what about this murder business?" Isabelle asked, taking up her cup with elegant fingers. "Isn't it a bit difficult for Jonathan? I mean, him as an Auror and you, as one of the potential suspects?" She took a sip of tea, then put the cup down again.

Gwen gave a mirthless laugh. "Don't worry, Mrs Beresford compensates for any lack of suspicion on Jon's side." Then she admitted: "I think it's not easy for him. The work in our Department is very difficult for him. The staff isn't exactly cooperative and Agatha Hill, too, is adamant regarding our secrecy. And on top of it all he falls in love with an Unspeakable."

"Have you made any progress?" Isabelle asked, a bit shyly. "I mean, only if you are allowed to tell me."

I am not, Gwen thought. "Yes, we've found out… some things. Like that it was not an AK, but poison." If there were three people Gwen trusted from the buttom of her heart, it were Hugh, Miss Carthew, and Isabelle.

Isabelle nodded. "Bon, don't worry, and don't tell me anymore. I don't want you to get into trouble. So, what will you do about Jonathan?"

Gwen took another piece of shortbread, put it into her mouth and let it dissolve on her tongue.

"I'm not sure. I do enjoy being with him, being near him, you know."

Isabelle smiled.

"He's such a nice guy. And I don't want to hurt him. Must I take a decision?"

"Alors," Isabelle said. "Not now, not right away. I think you should be honest and not behave as if you were madly in love with him. I mean at the moment you needn't tell him more. Perhaps later?"

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

Wednesday, 29 June 1994

Jacobus Mayfield was standing in front of the Arch, focussing hard. When he heard a door opening, he looked up. Gwendolyn Bale entered the Death Chamber. He gave up his concentration and let his wand arm sink. He saw her, wrapping her black wool cardigan around her, approaching his and his colleague's former office. In this instant, he decided to talk to her.

He climbed up the stairs. "Miss Bale?" he asked, trying to hide his nervousness.

"Yes, Mr Mayfield." Gwen looked at him in surprise. Up to now, they had never exchanged any more words than the polite 'Good morning' or 'Good afternoon'.

"I'd like to have a word," he said softly, casting a fleeting look around.

She merely nodded.

"I've been told you destroyed my singing wormwood."

"What!" Gwen gasped. "Er… n…no, I didn't. Who says so?"

He didn't answer.

"Well, it was I who suggested to water it. It felt so dry, and it seemed to call for water." She didn't mention that it had actually been Jonathan who had used the mug with its poisonous contents.

Mayfield looked a bit calmer.

"Was it your plant?" She eyed him curiously. With his straight parting, ironed clothes and horn-rimmed spectacles, he didn't seem the type to own such a cheeky magical plant.

"Yes, it was," he said with dignity. "A present from my nephews. They've got a somewhat strange humour." He frowned. "But they certainly meant good."

"I'm really sorry, Mr Mayfield." Gwen said, contritely. "I didn't know it was a present from your family. We should have asked you first."

"Well, you couldn't know." He wrang his hands, but seemed soothed. "And you couldn't know that Archibald's mug contained a poison."

"Was it – Archibald's mug?"

"Y-yes, sorry, I thought you knew already," he looked around anxiously. "Since you are involved in the investigation, that is. I told Mr Hope about it. Archibald used to drink his tea from this mug. It said… I mean, it says 'Have a happy tea break, Archie!'"

"Oh, how stupid of me. I didn't notice any inscription." Gwen shook her head, only remembering a blue mug.

"No, of course not, it only revealed its inscription when it contained hot tea, and only when Archie drank from it," Mayfield explained. "I think he got it from his wife."

How sweet, Gwen thought. "Is there anything else we should know about the …items in your office?" she asked, suddenly crisp.

He seemed to avoid looking directly in her eyes.

Gwen waited.

"No, certainly not. At least, as far as I know. There should be nothing poisonous. Mr Hope has asked the same question, and I've told him."

I wonder whether he asked you about horcruxes, Gwen thought, staring at Mayfield, but not daring to ask him aloud. She wasn't an Auror, after all. She'd ask Jonathan, though.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

Friday, 1 July 1994

When, after lunch, Gwendolyn entered the Brain Room, she was whistling contently. She had managed to extract another memory from the victim's head. This time she hadn't told anyone about it, not even Crow, who hadn't been in the Death Chamber all morning. He had told her that he had "some urgent business to attend to in Diagon Alley", which had left Gwen dumbfounded, since he normally didn't explain where he was going when he was out of office.

"Hi Bob," she addressed the tank manager cheerily. "How're you?"

He looked around, and when he saw that no one was around, he replied in a whisper: "So, so. Those Aurors have been interrogating me again all morning. About the missing runespoor fang venom, d'you remember that strange incident this spring?"

Gwen looked at him rather remorsefully and nodded. Yet she deduced from his words that Jonathan hadn't told him that he'd got the information from her.

"Did they give you a hard time?"

"No, no, this Hope fellow's quite all right." Bob dipped a big sponge into a bucket. A huge number of small glass tanks was standing on one of the desks.

Honoria exited her office, draped in her usual flowing linen clothes. "Hi, Gwen!" she greeted her joyfully.

Gwen smiled at her. "Good to see you."

Bob extracted the sponge from the bucket, squeezing it firmly. Then he started scrubbing one of the small glass tanks. "Can't do this with magic," he informed them when he saw Honoria gazing at his hands. "This liquid is very special, y'know."

Honoria laughed: "I know. Isn't it good to think that there are some things that can't be done by mere wand-waving?"

"Bob, could I borrow the pensieve again?" Gwen asked the tank manager. Bob wasn't very pleased, but went to get the stone-basin from his office.

"How're you, my dear?" asked Honoria. "I haven't seen a lot of you lately."

"I'm still working here and… there," Gwen pointed to the door leading to the Death Chamber, "but as we two have got different working hours we might have missed one another." Honoria nodded. "I'll be glad to return here, though," Gwen added as an afterthought. "How're you doing?"

"Fine," Honoria replied brightly. "It's been such an interesting time with my trance groups! And I'd like to start a project with you and Isabelle." Her voice fell into a whisper. "I'd like to know whether your Gautier wave research can be applied to trances, too. I'm thinking of the increase in beta and theta waves."

Gwen gaped at her: "What an ingenious idea! That sounds really interesting. And what exactly are…"

At this moment Bob arrived with the pensieve. "There you are," he said, "but please take care and bring it back as soon as you're finished with whatever you need it for."

Gwen forgot her question, promised Bob to guard the pensieve like gold, and hurried to the Death Chamber to analyse the memory she'd been able to extract.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~