Gryffindor Investigations

Harry and Ron found Karlie in the kitchen washing up after lunch. She was visibly upset about being questioned. “Karlie told those awful men, those Aurors, everything, sirs!” she squeaked. “Why should Karlie have to go through it all again? Karlie has never been in a house with a murder before!”

“We understand, Karlie, we understand,” Harry said soothingly. “But your master, Michael Cryne, is in Azkaban for his father’s murder, and your mistress, Catherine Cryne, is positive he’s innocent.”

“If he is,” Ron put in, “don’t you want to help us—and her—get him out of that awful place?”

Karlie’s face softened, and two great tears welled up in her eyes—eyes, Harry noticed, that had trouble focusing. The house elf clearly had a problem with her vision. “You’re right, sirs,” she admitted. “Miss Catherine is a good mistress, very kind, very easy to please—not like some who find fault with every little thing, who make you reset the table if there’s one fork or glass out of place………” She broke off, her eyes fearful.

“It’s all right,” Harry assured her. “We won’t tell Mrs. Cryne what you said. Now, let’s talk about what happened that day. You made lunch for Mr. Cryne and the others?”

“Yes, sir, Karlie did!” the elf nodded enthusiastically. She still seemed a little fearful over having criticized a member of the family. “And Karlie is sure everything was all right when it left her kitchen, sirs! No one came into the kitchen while Karlie was here!”

Harry knew that didn’t really prove anything—if the poison had been introduced magically, it could have been done from a distance, and Karlie would never have known. “So you set the table for the five of them……”

“Meaning no disrespect, but Karlie set the table for six, sir,” Karlie corrected. “Mrs. Lavinia, she wasn’t feeling her best, and Mr. Joshua never turned up, but the rest of the family was going to be there.”

Harry and Ron looked at each other. “Mrs. Cryne told us that Miss Clarice had already left by the time you would have set the table,” Ron said.

Karlie’s eyes grew even more fearful. “Maybe she didn’t know,” she said meekly. “Miss Clarice was here for most of the morning; she only left an hour or so before lunch.”

“Wait a minute, Karlie,” Harry said in a sharp voice. He instantly regretted it, because the house elf shrank back and began to tremble. Forcing himself to be calm, he asked, “You just talked about having to reset the table. Miss Clarice asked you to do that, didn’t she?”

Karlie wailed, a long cry of despair. “Sir is correct,” she sobbed. “Miss Clarice, she had me reset the table three times before everything was arranged the way she wanted it. Karlie didn’t understand, but Karlie serves the Cryne family, so Karlie obeyed.”

“Did she make you reset the whole table?”

“No, sir,” Karlie said. “Just the silver and the glasses. She made me move the chairs, too—she wanted Mr. Cryne to have the best view of the grounds, she said.”

Harry and Ron looked at each other. *We need to talk*, Harry’s look said.

*No kidding?* Ron’s face conveyed a world of sarcasm.

The two men thanked Karlie and excused themselves. They went to the Cryne library, shutting the door behind them. After putting a Silencing Charm on the door, Ron said, “It looks like Clarice was the one who did it. Why else would she have been so mental about who got what chair and what glass?”

“And since the Aurors never examined her wand, she could have transferred the poison using magic, and they wouldn’t have known about it,” Harry agreed.

“Let’s find her,” Ron said in a firm voice. “We can examine her wand ourselves.” He strode toward the door, but just before he reached it, he stopped, and turned slowly to look at Harry uncertainly. “Can’t we?”

Harry shook his head. “We CAN, of course,” he said, “but we don’t have any authority to back it up. We’re not Aurors, Ron—we’re just private citizens. She doesn’t have to hand over her wand on our say-so, and I can’t think of a way of getting it without her noticing. Can you?”

Ron ground his teeth in frustration. “So much for that idea,” he muttered.

“Which idea was that?” Neither man had noticed the door opening; Clarice Cryne stood in the doorway, an amused look on her face.

“Just discussing the investigation, Ms. Cryne,” Harry responded in a neutral voice.

She glanced at the door. “Silencing Charm?” she asked, amused. When neither Harry nor Ron deigned to answer her, she entered the room completely, leaving the door open as she did so.

She selected a chair that looked comfortable, then crossed her legs and folded her hands. “Well, now, gentlemen, how is the mystery coming along?” Her entire attitude was that of a tolerant and amused schoolmistress overseeing a pair of enthusiastic but clumsy children. “Will Mother be carted off to Azkaban by dinner? Please?”

“We’re still asking questions, Ms. Cryne,” Harry said, his tone still as devoid of emotion as he could manage.

“Well, you certainly should question me,” she said, smiling. It was a cold, malicious smile.

“All right, fine!” Ron snapped. “Why didn’t you tell your mother you were here most of the morning when your father died?”

“Because it wasn’t particularly important,” Clarice replied calmly. “The poison came from Michael’s wand. Michael was the only one with the opportunity to kill our father. Therefore, Michael killed our father. My exact whereabouts, therefore, were irrelevant. Certainly the Aurors thought so.” Her smile, if possible, grew even more malevolent. “Pity you weren’t assigned to the case, Mr. Potter. You wouldn’t be wasting your time here now if you had been.”

“That’s as may be,” Ron pressed, “but your mother still thinks you were in Wolverhampton!”

“Come now, Mr. Weasley, did you always tell your mother your every movement? Did you, Mr. Potter? Oh!” Her eyes widened, and she put a melodramatic hand to her breast. “How stupid of me; I forgot your history, Mr. Potter. I’m terribly sorry.” She did not sound sorry in the slightest.

“Quite all right, Miss Cryne,” Harry said coldly. “You can make it up to me easily. Do you know where your brother was on the day in question? He wasn’t at lunch.”

“Joshua, you mean?” Harry nodded. “I have no idea, Mr. Potter. Knowing Joshua, he could have been anywhere, doing anything, running the gamut from the merely disreputable to the purely disgusting. My brother is a very odd creature, Mr. Potter. If you go near him, I’d suggest protective clothing.”

She rose, and strode out of the room. Harry and Ron watched her go.

“So what now?” Ron asked.

“Unless we can find Joshua and question him,” Harry said, “I have no idea.”