The apparition from the middle of France to Latvia had given Oliver the most excruciatingly splitting headache; more severe than he had ever endured. However, a migraine was a small price to pay. For a less gifted wizard, such a journey could have resulted in splinching. By the time the pain relented, he had walked from one end of Riga to the other. He didn't regret the long-distance apparition, in all fairness, there were few wizards that could have achieved such a trip. Travelling such vast distances via apparition, would leave most wizards, at best, unconscious, at worse, gravely ill. Fortunately, Oliver was extremely gifted in three specific magical abilities, these were his talent for apparating, his knowledge and skill with transfiguration and his mastery of defence against the dark arts. They were all key subjects at Mahoutokoro, and he had finished his schooling top of his year in all of three of these subjects.
The decision to make the hop all in one go, was taken out of a sense of urgency, as well as the desire to limit the number of locations he visited. The thought of travelling via broom or port key had not entered his mind. Flying by broomstick was never an undertaking he enjoyed, and hunting for a portkey to Latvia, would have brought him searching around Diagon Alley, which in turn, would have brought unwanted attention.
Oliver was a little surprised to receive the occasional, strange look from the odd passing muggle. He wasn't wearing a cloak or a hat, so why the peculiar stares? He was wearing his usual green canvas trousers, a blue navy t-shirt and his trademark green Barbour jacket; nothing eccentric. His blonde hair was not unkempt, it was combed and slightly parted to one side.
The strange gazes made Oliver consider spending some time in a small, quite café, down one of the narrow side streets he walked past. He did however, ignore such thoughts, he was close to his destination, a place where muggles would not be found, a place of secrecy and refuge, a place known by the wizarding world as Svetnica's.
The part bar, part hotel, part shelter, was the go-to place for any visiting witch or wizard. Svetnica's was nestled deep in Eastern Europe and had been a refuge for the magical community for over eight-hundred years. It had a revered reputation as a place of haven, the only blemish on its proud record, was the fact that it was once a hot bed of support for the dark wizard Grindelwald.
As Oliver neared the entrance to Svetnica's, his headache had completely subsided and he felt fully cognitively alert. His eyes fell upon the gorgeous fountain, the exquisite statue of a witch held a large shell above her head, as three nymphs rested near her feet. The enchanted doorway to the hidden magical hideaway, was relatively new, compared to how long the refuge had been there for. Oliver gave a glance around, there were a few muggles nearby, but not many; it was an ideal moment to enter. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a Knut and brought it close to his mouth; 'alohomora.' He whispered.
The bronze coin began to glow red as it heated in his hand. Oliver quickly flicked the coin into the ring of water that surrounded the statuette. The eyes of the female statue came to life, as they fixed on the young wizard. The nymphs too threw looks at his direction. At the same exact moment, a billow of mist swirled out from the pool and surrounded the fountain just behind Oliver. The mist raised into the air and formed a cloudy dome around the fountain.
It was not the first-time the wizard had visited Svetnica's, so he was not surprised by what he was observing. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted the few muggles that were around, who now all appeared to be frozen in time. Oliver knew that that was not an accurate observation, it wasn't that the outside of the foggy dome was frozen, it was in fact that time inside the dome was being sped up and concealed from the outside world.
The woman statue stepped down from the plinth and into the water as the three nymphs floated around. She pulled down the large shell that she had held above her head, brought it low and into the water. The pool began to part and build up behind the shell, as the floor of the fountain was revealed. Water built up high into the air, held-up like a reverse waterfall, the ground inside the fountain became completely dry. The stone flooring began to click and shake as some of the stones started to sink into the earth. In moments, a large downward staircase was revealed. Oliver quickly stepped into the fountain and made his way down the recently created staircase. The steps seemed a little slippery under his feet and the way ahead was pitch black; but he was aware that it was safe, so he continued.
As the new visitor entered the darkness, the stones that had crafted the stairwell began to rise and reform the solid flat surface of the fountain floor. As the last stone clicked into place, the female statue lifted the shell into the air and the water poured down slashing around the sides of the fountain. The water swirled as the statue walked back onto the plinth and regained her position. The nymphs quickly followed and returned to their positions. As the water began to still the figurines of the fountain jerked into the final positions and reverted to their inanimate status. At the same moment, the misty dome faded instantly. The outside world would not have seen the wondrous sight, which had just taken place. If anyone had been watching, what they would have witnessed, was one moment a man was stood there, in front of the fountain, then in the blink of an eye, he vanished.
The darkness was intense and absolute. Oliver, however, did not hesitate. He had just entered the doorway through the fountain and he knew that within seconds of the entrance closing, the room ahead would light up, and that it did.
Bright fiery yellow light illuminated from an open entryway directly in front of him. As the hallway he was in, burst into light, it also erupted with the sounds of commotion, coming from within the room ahead.
The room he soon entered was large, the walls and the floor were crafted by bright red brick intersected with the odd sharp white brick. It looked marvelous, well kept. There was a vast bar at the back of the room, above it the wall was covered with a variety of signs, in various languages. On the wall to the left, there was a stage, where there was currently no one on it. In front of the stage there were several sets of tables and chairs, where a couple of witches sat. Their attire was non-conventional, by muggle standards; definitely worthy a glare from the non-magical folk, Oliver thought to himself. On the opposite side of the room from the stage, there was more seating, however, they did not face the stage, they were booths, with seating that faced one another. These booths currently contained a few more patrons, who were all deep in conversation. On that side of the room, there were also several doors, each with signs that indicated that they lead to rows of hospitality rooms. From the signs, Oliver gauged that there were about five-hundred rooms in the building.
Oliver walked directly towards the bar; it was manned by three elves. Their appearance would startle most wizards, on their first encounter. However, Oliver was not surprised this time, nor on his initial visit. Each elf wore black trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a chequered waist coat. They were the most smartly dressed elves that Oliver had ever seen, although he knew that this didn't mean that they were free. How the owners of Svetnica's had circumvented the gifting of clothes rule, was not something Oliver was aware of. What he did know, however, was that these servants were owned, just like most in the magical world.
'Can we help you?' Said the first elf, as he disapparated from one corner of the bar and reappeared standing on top of the bar, just in front of Oliver's face.
The wizard was a little startled at the elves use of English, which the tiny waiter recognised. With a tilt of his head and a point in the air, the elf directed Oliver's attention to some of the signs above.
Recognition charms used in this establishment.
We reserve the right to know the birthplace of all Patrons. And share this with our elves.
Oliver read the signs and looked at the ones closer to him, he believed they said something similar, in different languages. It was a detail that had slipped his memory, but on reading the sign, he instantly recalled it.
'Forgive me. I've been here before. I just momentarily forgot about that. I'm in need of a room.'
'Of course, sir. I can help with that.' Said the elf, as he disapparated again. Reappearing seconds later at the same spot, with a clipboard in hand. 'For how long sir?'
'A week at least. Although I might need longer, do you have availability for a month?'
'I think we can do that master. Week for sure, you'll need to pay for the full week then if you want to stay longer come and speak to us. I'm sure we can sort it. We do have a lot of vacancies currently. Not many people are travelling at the moment.'
'Perfect. I should know within a day or two, if I need to book for longer. Can I pay with Gringotts coins?' Asked Oliver, as he reached into his rucksack to pull out a holder of coins.
'Yes sir. All currencies are welcome at Svetnica's.' Replied the elf.
Oliver handed over a few Sickles and several Knuts to cover the fee for the week. The elf exchanged the coins for a chunk of oak-wood that had a dull pink crystal in one corner, with the number 241 edged in, on both sides. Oliver picked up the wooden slab and placed it into his jacket pocket.
'Thank you. Can I get a pint of mead? It's been an intense few days. I could do with one.'
'Certainly.' Said the elf, as he clicked his fingers. A pint glass glided through the air, rested under the nozzle of the draft of mead. It instantly poured until the glass was full.
'Room charge or pay now?' Asked the Elf
'Add it to the room tab. I suspect I may have a few before I leave.' Said Oliver, before he grasped the beer and walked off towards one of the many booths.
Taking off his rucksack and placing it down on the seat against the wall, Oliver perched next to it, and placed his mead onto the table. He tentatively examined all those in the bar. He was not concerned by anything, it was just a default thing he engaged in. It was part of his Auror training, he was programmed to always be on alert.
He finished off the mead with a few large swigs, it was empty within ten minutes, by which time he had sized up everyone in the room. There were some odd characters he thought, but no one appeared nefarious. He picked up his rucksack and the empty glass, and headed to the bar, he placed the glass down and then left the room via the corresponding door to his room number.
The corridor to his room mirrored the décor he found in the bar, the bright red and white brick stretched as far as he could see. Oliver headed in the direction of his room, and when he arrived, he saw a similar pink gemstone in the door, as the one on the slab of wood the elf had given him. Reaching into his pocket Oliver took out the wooden block. He held it in his left hand as he took out his wand with his right. He touched the tip of his wand to the gem on the wood in his hand, a pink glow lifted in the air and sunk into the point of the wand. After the charm from the gem had transferred, Oliver pointed his wand at the corresponding gem on the door and it instantly unlocked and opened.
'Good, I don't want to carry that with me.' He said to himself, referring to the block of wood.
Entering the room, he placed the slab onto a small table a couple of meters inside. Flicking his wand at the direction of the door, he forced it to close. The room was not luxuriously decorated, it was simple, clean, and met his needs. There was a small bathroom to the right of the entrance door, which had a toilet and a shower within. Inside the room itself there was a large double bed with a bedside cabinet on either side.
He moved further into the room, placed his bag on the floor and stretched out on the bed. He would have given anything for a moment's kip at that point, it had been an extremely draining trip. He contemplated for a moment, just drifting off and catching a few hours' sleep. And as his eyes began to close, his desire was interrupted by a resonating whistling sound.
Oliver sat bolt upright on the bed. He was not sure where the noise was coming from, but it seemed to him that it was coming from within the room. He glanced from side to side, expecting to spot something, there was nothing. A moment later however, the whistling sound turned into a crisp pop. At that moment, Oliver opened his rucksack and pulled out the clear brandy bottle which Dumbledore had enchanted days before. As he took the bottle out, Oliver clocked the CG initials that were found on the rim. As the bottle rested in his hands a single sheet of parchment suddenly appeared within it.
Tilting the bottle up the parchment slid into his hand. He quickly unfolded it.
There's a parcel waiting for you at the Bulgarian Ministries Consulate in Central Riga. – Albus.
Oliver read the sentence a couple of times, converted it to memory. Once he was sure he would not forget a single word. He took out his wand and with a flash of flame, turned the message to ash.
*
It was still summer for most of Europe and although Riga was not particularly cold, Oliver was feeling it. The summer back in Devon, England, was particularly hot, and if the temperature was not scorching, Oliver felt cold. It was partly the reason he always wore the Barbour jacket; he always felt the chill. Many friends throughout adulthood joked that he felt as cold as his heart was, but that was not true. He was deeply compassionate and cared for others a massively, however, he would always try to maintain a sense of distance from people, using humour and random conversation as a defence mechanism.
Oliver was awake extremely early that morning. His brief afternoon nap had turned in to a full on slumber. He slept all evening and through the night. He was now up, showered, dressed, and had already eaten breakfast before sunrise. Soon after, Oliver was back in his room placing all his belongings back inside his rucksack, it was another Auror trait. Live from a bag, be ready in a moment's notice to be on the move.
'All right,' Mumbled Oliver, 'Time to start this mission.'
He walked out of the room, conscious that he did not need to take the wooden stub. The individualised and specific charm that unlocked the door to the room was already imprinted upon on his wand.
Oliver headed out of Svetnica's via the one-way backdoor, which exited on to the Town Hall square. As he passed the threshold of the exit, the door sealed up behind him. He knew where he was and where he was heading. He had visited Riga before as an Auror, it was not uncommon for members of the Ministry of Magic to visit the very building he was walking towards.
Daylight lit up the street and Oliver noted that there were more muggles around now, although to him, it felt like he was getting fewer strange stares than when he first arrived. He walked through the small crowds and made his way for the Bulgarian Ministry's Consultant, which was situated within an old castle at the centre of town.
It was not long before he arrived at his destination. It was one of oldest buildings in the city, its yellow walls and red roof were distinctive, particularly when compared to the surrounding structures. As Oliver walked through the barriers at the front gates, he headed for the specific door that led to the Consultant. When he reached the door, he smiled at the sign above it, it was in Latvian but he remembered what a translator had once told him it said. The sign read;
Sanitārijas un upju Kvalitātes Projektu Vadība.
Translated to English, it identified a nonexistent government department, it said, Project Management for Sanitation and River Quality. A purposefully thought-out sign to deter unwanted visitors. Oliver headed straight through. Inside there was a large open space with three kiosks at the far end, with several doors dotted around. Each kiosk had a queue of people, waiting to be seen. Around the sides of the room, there were groups of people, who were office staff, each supporting visitors with specific queries.
Oliver looked around clocking everyone who was inside, it seemed like there were a lot of in-need wizards, each with their own challenge. He didn't care to think what that might be, he was there to collect a package. As he headed towards what appeared to be the shortest and speediest queue, he spotted a familiar face exit one of the doors, he felt a brief pang of unease.
'Tori?' Shouted the recognizable face.
'Rashmore? Replied Oliver
Oliver changed his direction and walked to the familiar voice. It belonged to Henry Rashmore, a former colleague of Oliver's in the Auror service of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement. Rashmore was still within the service and the gentleman next to him, Marcus Mancel, was also an Auror, but Oliver had never worked or even knew him.
'Long time Tori. What a strange place to bump into you.' Said Rashmore, as he outstretched his hand.
'Indeed. What are you guys doing here?' Replied Oliver, as he shook the hand.
'Just official Ministry business.' Rashmore paused, and leaned forward and whispered, 'between us, we're here for information sharing on you know who with the Bulgarians.'
'I see. I guess he's getting everyone a little rattled again.' Replied Oliver.
'Exactly. Everyone in the Ministry is bricking it. Everyone is now on high alert after the Death Eater break in. Scrimgeour has already started tightening up all the security measures. It's good to have someone competent in charge after so long.' Said Rashmore.
'Ha. Fudge was a disaster on all counts.' Said Marcus Mancel, eager to add something to the conversation.
Oliver smiled at the stranger's comments.
'Oh, you don't know Marcus do you.' Said Rashmore, as he turned to his partner. 'Mancel, this is Manannán, he was one of the best Auror's we had. Back in the hunting days, anyway.'
'They were fun times. Although, perhaps our focus back then, should've been less on finding Death Eaters on the run, and more on locating the Dark Lord, when he was vulnerable and in hiding.' Replied Oliver.
'Perhaps. I guess most in the Ministry just believed he was dead.' Said Rashmore. He didn't believe what he said. He knew it wasn't because members back then believed he was dead, they simply wished he was and were too afraid to find out if he wasn't.
'They hoped he was!' Said Oliver, who paused and turned to Marcus. 'Anyway, nice to meet you, Marcus. You need to keep this one on his toes. He's not one for detail.'
'Ha. Nobody has time to sweat the little stuff Tori. And you were as unconventional as they come, so don't give me that!' Chortled Rashmore.
'True. Although, just make sure he's not the one to lay the protective charms. Trust me, you don't want a giant sneaking up on you in the middle of stakeout.' Said Oliver, letting out a cheeky grin as he spoke to Marcus.
'Ha-ha. We both needed new underwear that night. Damn. I thought I was a gonna. But you pulled out that stun so fast and so powerful it knocked him clean out. I don't think I ever seen a giant go down with one hit before. But you got him, smack, right between the eyes.' Said Rashmore.
'Luckily. It was a close one. That was in fact the only stakeout we really worked together as partners on.' Remembered Oliver.
'Yeah, I think your right. Although that time you, me and Stan went looking for... I forget his name. That American wizard who wanted to be a Death Eater.'
'Wesley Harkens.' Said Oliver.
'Yes! Him. Why we had to track him down, I don't know. They be the orders though. Where did we catch him again? Was it Scarborough?'
'Blackpool. On one of the peers. I swear to this day I've never obliviated so many muggles in one night. He was an absolute prat.' Replied Oliver, the memory of the events played out in his mind's eye.
'Yeah, that's right. There for hours we were. As he sat on top of that Ferris Wheel all incarcerated.' Said Rashmore, grinning wide. 'They were fun times.'
'Indeed.' Oliver paused for a moment, reminiscing. 'I hear Stanley has been stationed at Hogwarts?' He asked, knowing far too well the truth.
'Yeah, it feels like most of the service is up there. I reckon about a quarter of active Auror's are at the school. I don't know why. No Death Eater is going to dare try anything there. Not with Dumbledore around.' Replied Rashmore.
'True. He's still the greatest wizard alive. I heard that he faced the Dark Lord at the Ministry, and almost captured him?' Said Oliver, posed as a question rather than a statement.
'That's the line anyway.' said Rashmore.
'Henry.' Said Marcus, bashfully. 'The attack on the Ministry was thwarted and Dumbledore duelled the Dark Lord and was victorious.'
'Yes. Yes. He and his followers were beat and fled. He Who Must Not Be Named, was no match for the great Albus Dumbledore.' Spoke Rashmore, as though he was reading off a script. 'That's what Scrimgeour wants us to say.'
'Well, I'm sure it's not too far from the truth.' Said Oliver, sensing a little tension between the two Aurors. 'Well, I'm sure you're on important business, I don't want to keep you any longer. It's been great to see you again Henry.'
'Yeah, we need to head back to London, sharpish, before we're stationed here for months. Hang on. Why are you here? You on some private mission?'
'Oh no. I've taken a break for a bit. I decided to get away from it all. I'm here to sort out visa paperwork for my travels southeast. I try and do things by the book these days.' Chortled Oliver.
'I see. Well don't change too much. I know that Shacklebolt had wrote to you about coming back, so if you're up for it, we could definitely do with you back in the fight.' Said Rashmore, sounding far more serious.
'I'm sure the Ministry is safe in the new Ministers hands. And with Aurors like you. Besides, they don't really want another loose cannon like me around at the moment. Stability is what's needed now.'
'Agreed. Peace and Order will return soon. Right, we'll be going. Enjoy your trip.' Exclaimed Rashmore.
'Safe trip back to London. It was nice to meet you, Marcus.'
'You too.' Replied Marcus.
Oliver watched the two Aurors head out of the building. As he turned to look back at the kiosks. He noticed that one was now free of people. He darted for it.
'Good morning. I've a parcel to collect?' Asked Oliver, to the frail witch behind the counter. She was wearing a tatty old grey cloak, which she had wrapped all the way around her hair.
She peered through the opening. 'Name?'
'Oliver. Oliver Manannán.'
Without replying the woman turned and walked off into a back room. Moments passed as Oliver twisted on the spot and glanced around the room.
'Here.' The croaky voice sounded.
Oliver turned back towards the counter. The woman had returned as she pushed a large brown envelope to him.
'Thank you.'
Oliver walked away. He opened the envelope and took out the contents. Several files were all wrapped tightly together with a note attached to the front.
As requested Albus.
The handwriting was unmistakable, he knew who had written the note; it was Kingsley Shacklebolt. Funnily enough, Oliver recognised the handwriting, from the letter that had been sent by Kingsley to him, that Henry Rashmore referred to just moments before.
He placed the contents all back into the envelope, out of fear of prying eyes. He quickly headed back to the kiosk that was free. The lady was still at the desk staring blankly.
'Excuse me. Can I borrow some parchment, and a quill? Also, how much is Owl service here?'
The witch let out a long dry sigh and turned on the spot and walked off to the backroom again.