Chapter Nine

The first week fairly flew by. Anastase was so busy and rushed off his feet that he barely had time to worry about anything except getting his homework done it time. That and finding his way to classes in the first place.

As Hogwarts: A History informed him, there were seven stories and one hundred and forty-two staircases in the building. This meant that even with the, sometimes irritable, aid of Velius there were more than enough ways to get unutterably lost and confused. There were trick steps that left you dangling through the floor if you trod on them, there were corridors that lead you somewhere else on certain days of the week, there were doors that you had to ask politely to open or tickly in just the right spot, and even doors that were really walls pretending to be doors. To make matters worse, you couldn't simply remember where everything was because it all liked to wander around. According to Velius, there was a pattern but Anastase had yet to find it.

Peeves the poltergeist didn't help either, while the rest of the castle ghosts were very helpful and even friendly, Peeves was easily worth getting stuck in a trick staircase if you were unlucky enough to bump into him. He would be perfectly happy to follow you for the rest of the day dropping bins on your head, pulling rugs from under your feet, pelting you with any bit of rubbish that came to hand, and, possibly the worst, sneaking up behind you invisible, grabbing you by the nose and bellowing, 'GOT YOUR CONK!', at the top of his lungs. Anastase discovered all this when Morag McDougal was late to class on Wednesday and ended up being sent back to the dorms for the day, by Flitwick, after she was chased around by Peeves for the first three classes and finally broke down in tears over it during the Charms class after he nearly set her books on fire with a candle.

Argus Filch, the school caretaker, was, in Anastase's opinion, a bitter, twisted old man who shouldn't be allowed within twenty feet of any child and coming from some who had a family like his, that was saying a lot. He was rather sadistic and delighted in doling out punishments whether they were deserved or not, Anastase had overheard him, the very first day, lamenting the fact that he was unable to use corporal punishment, and apparently, he'd been set to try and lock Potter and his red-haired friend in the dungeons for something before they'd even gotten to class!

If Anastase had been forced to pick his most hated thing at Hogwarts though, the prize would have to go to Mrs Norris. She was Filch's scrawny, dust-coloured cat. Like her master, she had bulging, lamp-like eyes and patrolled the corridors like an omen of death. If you put so much as a toe out of line, then she would immediately dash off in search of Filch, who would show up wheezing a few seconds later. According to Locryn, the only people who knew the secrets passages that lined the castle better than Filch were the Weasley twins, and the man could pop up as unexpectedly as any of the ghosts. Anastase was frankly shocked that he hadn't been sacked yet as the caretaker seemed universally hated by students, rival houses or no rival houses. It was, he later learned, the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs Norris a good kick, and a soft spot for animals or not, Anastase could not find it in himself to blame them in the slightest.

The lessons themselves weren't too bad. As Anastase had suspected he was ahead in most of the theory, and just needed to practice actually performing the spells. The most time-consuming part of the whole process was writing out all of the homework, sometimes knowing loads about a particular subject could work against you!

Herbology was one of the hardest subjects for Anastase because you could not learn how to handle plants by reading about it, so he was pretty much beginning from scratch there. Professor Sprout, the teacher, was a cheerful squat little witch with short, grey hair who almost always seemed to have a smile on her face and dirt on her clothes. If nothing else, Anastase thought, she was certainly very dedicated to her chosen field, not to mention she happily embodied all the best parts of the perfect Hufflepuff.

As he'd predicted, Defence Against the Dark Arts was a bit of joke. Professor Quirrell was scared of his own shadow and looked fit to collapse in fright every time someone asked a question, which as Tregereth had commented, might not be so bad in a class of, say. Gryffindors, but in a class of Ravenclaws it got rather ridicules. The classroom also stank of garlic which, rumour had it, was to ward off a vampire he'd met while on sabbatical in Romania. Anastase could only assume he'd really hacked said vampire off as he honestly could not think of any reason why a vampire would want to chase someone all the way from Romania, after all, it wasn't like the place was nearby! Decebal had informed them on Tuesday night, while they were having dinner, that Quirrell had told the Gryffindor first-years that his turban was a thank-you gift from an African prince for getting rid of a zombie. He also added that upon being questioned about this dramatic and dangerous feat of heroics Quirrell had blushed and started babbling about the weather. Personally, Anastase thought he'd be able to do a better job fighting off a zombie than the whimpering Quirrell, and Decebal's story had both of the Ravenclaws in stitches.

The most boring lesson was, as both Decebal and Locryn warned them, History of Magic. Anastase had to admit that he had underestimated Binns' soporific ability to put a class to sleep. He wasn't even sure if Binns was aware of anything anymore, including the fact that he himself was now dead. After all, he'd apparently died in the staff room and then just wandered in the next morning to teach without noticing that he was no longer living. Either way, he was certainly unaware of his students as they fell into two distinct categories: those who fell asleep, and those who pulled out homework for another subject or took out a history book to self-study. No matter what happened, Anastase was reasonably sure that nobody in Ravenclaw took down any of the notes that Binns laboriously readout.

Astronomy, which was held at midnight on a Wednesday, was possibly the easiest lesson that Anastase had between Professor Sinistra who was extremely nice and his own knowledge of the night sky.

Professor McGonagall, as benefited her position as Deputy Headmistress, was one of the strictest teachers at Hogwarts. The first thing she did when they entered the Transfiguration classroom was give them all a stern talk about the dangers involved and inform them that if they started acting up, then she would basically kick them out. Seeing as Transfiguration was one of the core classes Anastase wasn't sure how that would work out, but he had a feeling that if McGonagall wanted a student gone then they would be gotten rid of post-haste.

Charms, despite the fact that in some ways the magic performed could be more dangerous, was taught in a far more relaxed style. Although Anastase suspected, that was due to little Professor Flitwick being rather less intimidating than McGonagall. The tiny professor had to stand on a pile of books in order to see over his desk, and Anastase was pretty sure that Hagrid wasn't the only member of Hogwarts staff to have blood other than human running through his veins.

There was no way to describe Professor Snape other than completely and utterly terrifying. The Head of Slytherin House took perverse pleasure in scaring the wits off every student who crossed his path unless they were part of his own house. Decebal would quietly inform Anastase and Tregereth how glad they should be that they weren't Potter, Snape seemed to hold a grudge against him and had terrorised his first potions class. In spite of all this drama, it was in the dank, musty dungeon classroom, under Snape's cold black gaze that Anastase truly excelled. As his mother had noted over the summer, Anastase loved potions. Maybe not the ones prescribed in the textbook, but instead his own, often dangerous, inventions, like the modified Draft of Living Death that he'd fed to the twins several years previously.

All in all, Anastase's first week at Hogwarts was going very well. The only downside was his and Tregereth's social status. Or more accurately, their total lack of it. This wasn't precisely a bad thing, Anastase had to remind his friends, after all, they were doing their best to keep a tenuous and out of their control situation from entering the public eye. There was the big "but" of becoming Ravenclaws' pariahs hanging over them though. It was one thing to unsociable and keep themselves to themselves, it was another thing to be the total outcasts. Decebal had done the former for the past two years and caused not a single iota of gossip. Snappy weirdos who refused to communicate with anyone, on the other hand, would just attract more attention to them rather than less.

Anastase would freely admit that this unfavourable position was solely his fault, not the ever-smiling and friendly Tregereth who had done his best to smooth over Anastase's prickliness to no avail. Despite the understanding that had been reached on Monday morning, Anastase had managed to aggravate even the most sympathetic of their dorm mates, who had gone on to vent to the girls in the year and any other Ravenclaw who would stand still long enough to talk to.

Either way whoever's fault it was…

'Anastase, you have to apologise', Decebal's flat expression broke no argument.

'He's right', Tregereth said softly, 'We both do.'

Anastase groaned, 'I know, I know. Really is it totally my fault that I'm the most socially blind person in the history of the world though? I had thought that we'd made it clear that we didn't want to be friends with them, and they just kept talking and…I lost my temper.'

'And hexed Goldstein's feet backwards', Tregereth added quietly.

'With our parents as role models?' Decebal snorted in answer to Anastase's query, 'Absolutely not, but that doesn't solve the problem of the pair of you drawing far too much attention to yourselves.'

The three boys, plus a rather distant Locryn, had been sitting at a table in the library working on their weekend homework when Tregereth had tentatively brought the topic of the first-years unfortunate situation up.

'Well at least we all know that my mother won't be too concerned if she gets a letter about it', Anastase stated glumly as he glared at his History essay.

Locryn shook his head and refocused on them before he tugged the parchment away from Anastase, 'You sort the dorm situation at dinnertime. Just go over to them, say that you don't know how to talk to people, tell them that you were told how rude you sounded, apologise, and walk off again. Simple as that', the silver-haired boy began to read through Anastase's work, 'They'll end up feeling sorry for you by the time you've gotten back to Tregereth. You also need to mention how much of a complete failure the Werewolf Code of Conduct was. I know it's not very flattering, but you lose marks if you don't. I think it's one of the few places in the course that the Ministry admits that they made a mistake.'

'Really', Anastase demanded eagerly, 'I wonder why that is? That's why I didn't put it in because any flaws are usually glossed over. I suppose that they had to put something in, or the public would start accusing them of propaganda. I mean, anybody with half a brain knows that they do use it, but I can't imagine that the M.O.M would want to advertise the fact.'

He paused for breath after he answered his own question.

Locryn blinked before turning to Decebal, 'That got very intense, very fast. Is he always like this? I seem to recall most of our conversations following a similar pattern.'

'Oh, you've never met the twins of course', Decebal chucked, 'It's a bit of a family trait according to Mum. Talking to Radoslav, Anastase and the twins' father, was apparently like being repeatedly hit over the head with stunning spells.'

'I am not that bad', Anastase spluttered indignantly, 'I got a bit enthusiastic, that's all. I am a Ravenclaw.'

Not to mention, he'd wanted to try and engage Locryn in a bit of conversation. Over the week, the second-year had become more and more detached from the group, and Anastase could remember Locryn's words on the train, "I'm pretty unsociable most of the time" and "I would never have bothered to remember you". The last thing Anastase, or Decebal, needed was for Locryn to drift away from now that he knew so much.

'Exactly', Tregereth backed him up, 'We can get excited about anything we want. Even if it is ovomancy!'

Anastase doubled over laughing at the reminder of Hilliard's pompous welcoming speech. Their cousins stared at them in confusion.

'What is ovomancy, when it comes to that?' Decebal began.

'And why is it so funny?' Locryn ended.

'Ovomancy is a form of Divination', Tregereth explained, 'You break eggs and depending on how the yolk falls, you can tell certain things. I surprised you didn't know that Locryn. I thought I told you.'

Anastase, who had re-emerged from under the table, chimed in again, 'It's hilarious because it was part of Hilliard's grand talk on "Why Ravenclaws are the Best!". If you believe him, we could spend all our days cracking eggs and researching the magical properties of troll snot, and no one would so much as bat an eyelid! Seeing as I can't even be a grumpy codger for a week without starting a riot, I think he was overexaggerating just a tiny bit', sarcasm oozed from every word.

The older boys met each other's eyes.

'I think, that I am now sort of glad that I was never considered for Ravenclaw', Decebal mock whispered.

'Me too', Locryn smirked, 'And would the rest of our houses have a conniption if they heard us agree on something!'

Tregereth rolled his eyes, 'We're not all that bad. I think he was doing his best to sell the place as the most awesome house in Hogwarts…not the geek den. I mean they all have reputations and granted Slytherin definitely gets it the worst, but really Gryffindor is the only place that doesn't have any major bad points to its name.'

Anastase nodded, 'Slytherins are all evil, Hufflepuffs are boring and stupid, and Ravenclaws are know-it-alls who never do anything besides study. Gryffindor is portrayed as pretty perfect. Technically anybody with sentience can tell that being brave is being reckless idiots, who love getting in trouble, but the average eleven-year-old isn't going to think that, are they?'

No', Decebal began, 'But we've gone off-topic now and don't think I didn't notice what you'd done Anastase! You need to sort out your dorm and soon, promise?'

'Yes', Anastase sighed, 'Promisiune, văr. Fericit?'

'Anastase! You know I don't speak Romanian!' Decebal scowled at him, 'I will presume that was an agreement, understood?'

'Da', was Anastase's cheeky reply, 'That means "yes" by the way.'

'How come you don't understand Romanian when Anastase speaks it fluently?' Tregereth asked, looking at Decebal quizzically.

Decebal smiled at him, 'My parents might be strange and mixed up in everything, but they are far more normal than Aunt Irinel. They did their best to integrate themselves into British life, and that included the language. I don't think they thought that my brother and I would ever need to know it, after all, it's not very common here. Aunt Irinel though, she wanted to remember her parents more and also Radoslav, he spoke Romanian a lot, so I guess she wanted to keep his memory alive too.'

Anastase huffed, 'My mother is totally wacky – and that's before we go into the really mad stuff!'

'Speaking of mad stuff', Decebal suddenly gave him a serious look, 'You haven't started messing around with potions yet, have you?'

'Umm, why do you want to know?' Anastase was evasive.

'Because I do not want to get up one morning to the news that you've just been expelled for poisoning someone!' Decebal exclaimed, 'I remember when you almost killed the twins and we don't need an encore.'

'What did you poison them with?' Locryn seemed perversely fascinated.

Tregereth was horrified with both of them, 'How can you ask that?!' he demanded, 'I assume they were alright, but why would you do that? What things do you do?'

Anastase shrugged, 'It was a genuine mistake, as far as Mamă knows. I was experimenting and well, I might have wanted to test it. They were conveniently nearby and easy to pursued. It was a pity that they almost died but I was eight! So please a bit of leeway. I did not know what I was doing or how dangerous it was', he paused, 'Oh, and Locryn, it was a modified Draft of Living Death. I was doing NEWT potions when I was eight.'

'Well, that explains why you're a Ravenclaw then', Locryn joked, 'You must be a protégée.'

'Doubt it', Anastase disagreed, 'I'm good because I've had loads of practice. I want to see how good one of the Muggle-borns get because that's the only way to find someone truly talented.'

'Better come over to Gryffindor some time', Decebal sniffed, 'One of the first-year girls, Granger, is driving the whole year round the twist because she's such a swot. Even the Saintly Potter doesn't seem to be trying to befriend her.'

'Does she need some then?' Locryn inquired.

'I think she's a bit lonely, yeah', Decebal sighed, 'It's sad really because she can't help herself.'

'Whatever', Anastase interrupted, 'It doesn't matter, it's not our problem, and it's now dinner time. I'll give a freaking apology okay?! Bye!'

Tregereth muttered under his breath as he sped after Anastase.

'Slow down would you!' he panted as he caught up, 'You're as bad as Velius.'

Anastase stopped and turned to him, 'What is it with you and Locryn calling my stuff and comparing me to rather unflattering things?'

Tregereth flung his hands up in mock surrender, 'No need to get mad. It was just a joke.'

'Oh, sorry', Anastase stared at the floor, a flush crawling up his neck.

'You didn't know', Tregereth realised, 'You did not know. I really hate your mother Anastase. She must be a complete bitch.'

He bit his lip nervously after he said that. Swearing was not his usual self at all, and his Mum would have washed his mouth out with soap if she'd ever heard him say "bitch".

Anastase wrapped his arms around himself, 'You're right. You are. The only thing is, I don't think she knows it. Before this year, she was the same. You knew where you stood, she wasn't very loving, but she did her best. Over the summer…she was, unstable. She would go between screaming at us, and throwing herself over us like that.'

Anastase snapped his fingers to demonstrate.

'I'm glad you're not with her anymore', Tregereth said firmly, 'And I can't wait until your brothers are here too. Then you'll be seventeen and you can get away permanently.'

Anastase hummed in agreement as they entered the Great Hall, 'If she hasn't killed herself anyway.'

Tregereth nudged him hard, 'Forget about her. You need to start talking. Look, Boot and Corner are sitting at the end. They're not too bad and if things end terribly we can scoot off. You ready?'

'If I say no?' Anastase half pleaded.

'In your own words "whatever"', Tregereth was remorseless as he hounded Anastase over.

The other boys looked like started deer spotting a wolf. Both of them straightening up and tensing.

Tregereth poked Anastase, 'Get on with it. For the second time', he added snarkily.

Anastase glared, 'Boot, Corner. Sorry again. I'm an antisocial prick. Don't pelt me with ovomancy eggs', he sent pleading eyes at Tregereth, 'Am I done?'

The blond dropped his head onto the table and let out a muffled scream of frustration.

Boot looked alarmed, 'Uh, you really don't get the whole speaking, apologising, or communicating with people in general thing, do you?'

'It took you all so long', Anastase drawled, 'Here I thought Ravenclaws were smart. Guess I should have gone to Slytherin after all. Locryn got that right away.'

Tregereth blinked, 'The hat wanted you in Slytherin? How did you end up here?'

'It said I could have been a Slytherin, but it did say that Ravenclaw was my "best bet"' Anastase said, 'I would have eaten the Hufflepuff alive, and the Gryffindors were to goody-two-shoes for me.'

'You can sit down if you want', Corner invited them, 'I think it's pretty clear by now, that Atarescu is just social blind, deaf, and dumb, and that isn't going to change overnight. As you said, we are Ravenclaws and we know a lost battle when we see one, so there's no point holding a grudge.'

Anastase plonked down on the bench, 'Would Goldstein agree with that?'

Boot laughed, 'Now that you mention it, I'm pretty sure his belief has something about an "eye for an eye" so he might be a bit grumpy with you. On the other hand, most religions have a forgiveness aspect to them. You might have to wait a bit, is all I'm saying!'

'Nothings ever easy', Tregereth commented, 'How he endeared himself to my cousin I haven't got a clue. Locryn's in Slytherin', he explained, 'And is almost as bad as Anastase at conversation. Their first meeting must have been so awkward.'

Anastase chewed his tongue to prevent himself from pointing out that Tregereth knew full well that the first meeting had been very awkward, but not because of lack of talk.

'Well, I was having a breakdown over my sister', he dropped in, vaguely hoping this was the right move, 'So it was a bit strange.'

'Did something happen to your sister then?' Corner asked.

'I swear I've explained this so many times this summer', Anastase muttered, 'She had an accident when she was a baby, and she's been in the Janus Thickly Ward in St Mungo's for the past seven years. My Mamă, uh, Mum, and I went to see her in June. There was a bit of a hoo-ha and I ran out. Locryn saw me crying on the stairs and I basically gave him a sob story.'

A thump behind him made him turn. Goldstein was standing next to the table with a dumbstruck expression on his face.

'So, you've decided to play nicely now?' he jabbed at Anastase.

'I've already said I'm a prick', Anastase stated absently, 'But can I point out that he, is in fact, also a prick? Or is that being rude again?'

'Rude', Tregereth said, 'But unless he stops posturing, true. So there's that to it.'

Goldstein went red. Boot sighed.

'Anthony, stop. He's said sorry and I must say that he hasn't tried to hide that he's incredibly socially inept', he shot Anastase an apologetic look, 'If I didn't know better, I'd say he might have, well', he leaned forward and gestured Goldstein closer.

The other boy bent over to him, before jerking back.

'Oh, right, um, sorry', he directed the last word to Anastase, 'I am being a pain. I was offended, to be honest. You were very…'

'Rude and abrupt', Tregereth supplied, 'I've told him.'

As Tregereth and the other boys started chattering, Anastase tuned out. One of the current hot topics for gossip at the moment was Harry Potter. Despite his near-constant disdain for the skinny, dark-haired Gryffindor Anastase didn't really have a problem with him. What he did have a problem with was the hero worship that was associated with "The Boy-Who-Lived". Frankly, Anastase failed to see what was so special about even before he had been able to observe Potter in person. It was quite plain to him, that whatever had gone down on 31st October 1981, chances were it had been something that Lily and James Potter had done that had brought He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named down. Not, Anastase thought as he glanced over at the Gryffindor table, a year and a half old baby. Having now met the so-called saviour, Anastase was even more doubtful. Potter was nothing spectacular, seemed totally ignorant of wizarding culture – or so Locryn said, the older Slytherin complaining that Draco Malfoy, another first-year, had been whining about Potter refusing his friendship in favour of Weasley, and decidedly average in talent – though not as bad as Longbottom, who had melted his cauldron into slag in the very first potions class.

Off the top of his head, Anastase could list at least ten people in first-year alone who would be able to pound Potter into the ground both literally and figuratively: himself, Tregereth, Boot, Padma Patil, Susan Bones, Ernest Macmillan, Theodore Nott, Tracy Davis, and Hermione Granger. There are probably more as well, most of Ravenclaw for academic ability, and Slytherin for wizarding knowledge. The other two houses it would depend more on the individual but those were the broad strokes. In short not special, not epically powerful, just a normal eleven-year-old boy with an unfortunate family background.

Anastase snorted at the thought, put like that, you could have been talking about him! Tregereth raised an eyebrow at him and he shook his head, dismissing the thought. What a load of tosh. He needed to clear his mind, or he'd end up daydreaming after Potter like one of his fangirls!

Anastase was pulled out of his thoughts when Decebal dropped down next to him.

'I see you've made up', he commented, 'Having a nice time are you?' Decebal directed the last towards the, now gaping, boys.

They hadn't paid each other enough attention for Boot, Corner, and Goldstein to notice Decebal and Locryn sporadically tagging onto the Ravenclaws, passing on gossip, and advice.

'Uh, yeah, great', Corner squeaked.

'I don't bite you know', Decebal sounded amused.

'He's my cousin', Anastase informed them, 'He tends to be rather unsociable himself but he's not nearly as blunt as me.'

'Along with my cousin, Locryn, he was the one who persuaded Anastase to apologise to you yet again', Tregereth said.

'Will you shut up about that?' Anastase sniped, 'You all sound like broken records. I get it, point made, lesson over, okay?'

Locryn tapped him on the shoulder, 'You're not helping yourself. Getting annoyed just proves our point, and, not trying to offend you or anything, you do overreact a bit. One minute you're made of ice, the next you're spitting flames. It kind of gives you whiplash, you get me?'

'No', Anastase replied, 'I don't understand, and guess what? I don't care to understand either. The hat said that Gryffindor was the house that would be too righteous but I'm beginning to feel Ravenclaw is worse! Save your breath and either go tell someone who is actually bothered by their lack of social skills, I believe Granger could use the advice, or talk about something more worthwhile like how to not hack Professor Snape off.'

He was panting as though he'd run a race after his tirade, his face flushed.

Decebal gave Locryn a hard look, 'Right, you with me, please. I need to talk to you.'

The redhead fairly hauled Locryn out of the Great Hall, garnering a few odd looks from other tables as they left.

Tregereth slammed his hand against the table hard enough that he knocked over a goblet of pumpkin juice which made them all jump up to avoid being splashed.

'What was that for?' Corner cried out, 'Don't tell me you're getting angry too.'

'Oh, I, sorry', Tregereth rubbed a hand over his face looking ashamed, 'Here I thought we were doing so well, Anastase. Now I need to apologise to my pig-headed cousin. He's such a – argh!' he cut himself off with a frustrated yell.

Anastase covered a smile, 'Tregereth, I think we'd better go back to Ravenclaw tower, we're attracting some funny looks', he grasped the still muttering Tregereth's arm and towed him away from the table, 'See you lot around sometime. Have fun or something while we're gone!'

Anastase guided Tregereth out into the Entrance Hall where the blond pulled free and kicked the wall.

'Ow!'

Anastase whirled back at the yelp of pain, 'What did you do?', he stared before marching over, 'Did you just break your toe kicking the wall?'

Tregereth moaned, 'I don't know but that really hurt!' he gingerly prodded his foot, 'Ouch, I think I felt something move that shouldn't be moving.'

'That serves you right', Anastase scolded, 'It's my job to throw tantrums and yours to pull me off, not the other way round! Though I will point out that I've never broken a toe kicking a wall before.'

'To quote "shut up"', Tregereth retorted grumpily, 'Now help me get up to the hospital wing. I'll never make it like this!'

Anastase laughed the whole way up and only stopped when they got to the door of the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey, the school matron, hurried over to them, 'Oh dear, looks like a broken toe. How did this happen?'

The pair shared an embarrassed look.

'Err', Tregereth began, 'I, um.'

'What he's getting at', Anastase picked up the pieces of Tregereth's stuttering, 'Is that there was a bit of an incident in the Great Hall with our cousins, and Tregereth lost his rag and kicked a wall. A bit awarded as you can imagine.'

Her face was expressionless, 'I certainly do see. Now, this can be fixed in a trice.'

Tregereth watched in relief as she simply waved her wand at the offending toe and murmured a spell.

'Oh, that's much better. Thank you', he wiggled his toes in surprise at how quick and painless it had been.

'Not to worry dear', Madam Pomfrey smiled, 'I've seen much worse.'

As they made their way out and restarted the journey to the dorm, Tregereth turned to Anastase, 'You were right. Keeping the other boys out of this would be so much easier!'

'Yes, I agree', Anastase said, 'But our main effort at the moment is to blend in, and that's up to Decebal.'