Bertha Jorkins?
Dewey had a vague impression of that name. Jorkins was associated with nothing worth remembering fondly.
A woman whose life had been a tragedy from beginning to end.
From school to work, and finally, death at Voldemort's hands.
What was she doing in Diagon Alley?
Dewey feigned anger as he approached the brick wall before Diagon Alley. He raised his wand and cast a Nonverbal Spellcasting charm on himself. A host of spells settled over him, changing everything from his aura and scent to his appearance.
Hearing footsteps behind him, he stopped and deliberately waited a moment for Bertha Jorkins.
Bertha Jorkins had looked deeply displeased to begin with. She was naturally a sour and gloomy person, and had been that way since childhood. She wasn't pretty, talked too much, and was always surrounded by negativity. She was dissatisfied with her lot in life, had never found a decent relationship, and was full of complaints. All of that had caused her to radiate astonishing amounts of negativity, and that negativity only made the people around her dislike her more.
She couldn't even handle the work assigned to her. At the Ministry of Magic, she was passed around like a ball.
She was nothing but a burden.
Tragedy was a circle.
It came full circle, from beginning to end.
Dewey sensed something deeply unpleasant about her.
Perhaps that was the impression left by negativity gathering in a person.
As an employee of the Ministry of Magic, she had also been searched, which made her furious. As she approached, she spotted the middle-aged gentleman.
For some reason, the moment Bertha Jorkins saw him, her anger vanished.
She felt a little nervous. Her mouth was dry, and her heart began to beat faster.
"Are you going to Diagon Alley too, madam?"