-Chapter One-

Wadim

It was a miracle the ancient train station still stood, and was in fact being used. At the other side of the tracks stood an ancient watertower, clearly meant for the oldest of Epemenoi trains. Rusty iron pipes, once part of the contraption, lay scattered at the base of the structure, one of the many victims of the harsh winds of Romania.

Armavis Pilibos impatiently curled a grey strand of his dirty beard around his finger, and checked his pocketwatch for the fourth time in the past minute. The train was now nearly six minutes late. Armavis Pilibos had always valued time above all else. A trait most apparent, probably, in the fact that he carries a total of twenty-three watches with him. Irritated and a tad nervous, he tapped the cracked stone of the old platform with his weathered staff, making him even more aware of the seconds ticking away. Their contact was probably waiting for them by now, he thought, and they haven't even met up yet.

Suddendly he became aware of a slight vibration in the ground, almost immediately followed by a swelling noise. The Westerner was arriving. Instinctively, Armavis backed up into the shadows, outside of the sole, pitiful shaft of light generated by a single lamp. In the distance, he could see the Epemenoi train coming around the bend, it's light piercing the darkness ahead. As it came closer, he recognized the train to be of a newer make than the station suggested. Through one of the windows, he could see the driver, hazy-eyed, an unmistakeable sign of being magically confused. Armavis realized the redundancy of hiding in the shadows, yet continued to do so. With a slight squeal, the metal serpent braked, and slowly stopped in front of the old station, like wounded animal. Armavis' dark eyes quickly shot across the stream of tiny windows, and noted that there were very little passengers aboard the train. He did not have time to count them, because his eyes caught up a glimpse of something screaming for attention.

He presumed it was the Westerner. Armavis needed a second to adjust his eyes. The man he had to meet under discreet circumstances had chosen to wear a lilac robe with a golden pinstripe. Even in the murkiness of the trainstation, the offensive colours seemed to be screaming out in every direction. He sported a shock of golden blond hair, which was worn stylishly to one side. Armavis hesitated for a moment, but then stepped forward, into the light. The Westerner seemed startled for a short moment, but quickly regained his composure, and shot Armavis a shockingly white smile.

"Ah, mister Flibbybos, I presume?"

A silent grunt of annoyance escaped Armavis' lips.

"Pilibos. You are Lockhart?"

The Westerner shot another one of his dazzlingly white smiles, and made a flamboyant bow.

"I am indeed! Gilderoy Lockhart, at your service!"

Pilibos issued another annoyed grunt, though at an audible volume this time.

"You are not in my service."

He quickly spied his surroundings even, though he knew that if there were something out there, he'd have noticed it already. Almost involuntarily, he looked at the watch hung around his neck., and noticed the train departing.

"Time is against us, mister Lockhart. We must hurry."

Gilderoy Lockhart laughed heartily, and much louder than was to Armavis' liking. In fact, he didn't like laughter at all. Lockhart must have read this from his facial expression, because he quickly went quiet.

"I'm sorry, my dear chap. I thought we were here to clear up mysteries, not for some militaristic Auror business?"

Armavis could think of a dozen suitably angry replies, but chose to say nought. He spun on his heel and strode to the old station's exit gate, part of him hoping the colourful Westerner would not follow. However, he heard his carefully modulated voice behind him.

"Hang on! I'll...ouch!" A loud noise of scattering gravel indicated that Lockhart had stumbled over one of the many broken bricks that were strewn around the place. Armavis halted and sighed, and mentally pushed down the little ball of rage that was forming deep inside of him. He turned to see Lockhart rummage through his cloak. Finally, he produced, with an elegant gesture, his wand.

"Lumos."

"Nuchtha!"

After drawing it in a flash Armavis lowered his gnarled wand again.The tip of Gilderoy Lockhart's wand lit up weakly and was extinguished before even properly spreading it's light. Lockhart stared at the tip for a moment, as if stil expecting it to still light up at any moment. He looked up at Armavis' scowling face with an odd expression that was somewhere between offended and polite.

"I'm sorry, I was trying to cast a spell there."

The little ball of rage cracked, and little droplets of fury seeped into his body, taking his final vestiges of patience.

"A spell?! Lumos?! Just so we could walk around like a large beacon for all the beasts here to see?! I ought to..."

As was usual in Armavis' rages, he trailed off into Armenian cursing and shouting. Lockhart simply stood and watched for a few moments, and then interjected.

"Just for the sake of self-defense: I noticed you extinguished my wand's light with a spell unfamiliar to me. In fact, that spell did not remotely sound like any spell I've ever heard. Are you incantating or are you just insulting me?"

With extreme effort, Armavis restored and sealed the tiny ball of rage, and pushed it down again. There obviously was no point in reprimanding this fool. He coughed conspicuously while regaining his composure. Lockhart just smiled brilliantly at him.

"So, no lights then? Well, fair enough, I think I'll manage to find my way quite well in the dark. Mind you, when I visited Norwegia..."

"I think it would be best if I led, Mister Lockhart."

Armavis interjected as with a tone as harsh as possible, but it did not seem like Lockhart had read the obvious contempt on his lined face.

"Want a shot at it, do you? Very well, lead the way, I'll make sure you're going the right way."

The two figures shot through the maze of pine trees decorating the hills adjacent to the train station. The sight of the two off them was odd, to say the least. Up front trudged a short and broad figure, leaning heavily on a staff. He was clad in a long, tattered green coat, which he wore over an old black robe. His grey hair and beard were wild and long, and had clearly not been washed for several weeks. His lined face showed his considerable age. All this heavily contrasted with the figuring following him, who was considerably taller and walked with a slight, proud bounce in his step. The gold lining on his lavish, lilac robe reflected the moonlight, making him look like some strange, luminous skeletal figure from afar. Armavis paused about every minute, taking time to spy his surroundings, and occasionally sniff the air. Lockhart would use these short intermissions to check his shock of fair hair in a small mirror he kept in his pocket. Occasionally, Lockhart and Pilibos seemed to comically imitating each other, for every time Pilibos stopped to check his pocketwatch, Lockhart would check his mirror. After stopping for what must have been the twelfth time, Lockhart sighed in a manner suggesting amusement, and patted Pilibos on the shoulder, making the older man jump up, alarmed, quickly drawing his wand. Lockhart stepped back, smiling, holding up his hands.

"Now, isn't that a little rash, master Flishybush? I was only trying to say that while your extreme caution is laudable, it is also superfluous."

"What?"

Pilibos spoke in haggard tones, still weary from the sudden shock.

"What I mean to say is, good fellow, and I certainly don't blame you for not knowing this, there has not been a foul beast that has dared to extend as much as a paw since they heard what happened to the Vampires in the east."

Pilibos loked at the smiling blond man, utterly flabbergasted.

"What in damnation do you mean?"

Lockhart winked at him, and whispered in a mock-secretive tone.

"For all the details, read my next book, Voyages with Vampires. Coming out next month. I'll sign your copy."

The old warlock stared at the younger man with utter disbelief in his eyes. Lockhart simply smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. At exactly the same moment, a terrifying howl came echoing from beyond the hills. Pilibos ample hair on the back of his neck stood up straight, even though he had heard the sound innumerable times before. When he looked back at Lockhart's face he noticed to his delight that the Englishman's broad smile had faded a little. It was enough to wrench the corner's of the old Armenian's mouth slightly upwards. Perhaps Lockhart noticed, because he straightened up, and spoke in casual tones.

"Obviously regular wolves."

His travesty of a smile still present, Armavis Pilibos turned and continued through the dark.