RubeusHagrid34: Simeon having the ability to speak Romanian certainly comes in handy. I'm glad you enjoyed my adaptations of canon material and Charlie's proactiveness, and thank you for your comments. They are always appreciated, and I apologise for being so slow to update.
Chapter Four: The Minister of Bucharest
"Charlie, wake up," a female's voice interrupted a blank dream while a hand prodded his shoulder until his eyelids fluttered into the day-lit world. "Wake up. We've entered the city."
Opening his eyes slowly, the brown irises tried to adjust to the new light, rendering him temporarily blind as beams streamed in. With one hand Charlie shaded his eyes while shapes and colours started to move into focus and take the forms of steel grey buildings that they whizzed by in the car window. It had been a dark early morning in the countryside when he had fallen asleep, making his awakening all the more rewarding to know they had reached their destination.
With a small smile as he put his hand back down he turned from the window towards the gentle prodding fingers that had awoken him, knowing full well who had been sitting next to him when he'd dozed off hours ago. Expecting to see a pair of green eyes looking back at him, it came as a surprise to see a set of hawk-like brown ones behind a pair of glasses instead.
"Shalom," Tamara greeted, handing him a piece of toast. "Abby, he's awake."
"Good," the voice Charlie had expected to hear replied from the distant driver's seat. Leaning to the side, nearly putting his head into Tamara's lap, he could see the pair of emerald-coloured eyes staring back at him in the tiny mirror between the passenger and driver.
"Make a left," Abby's Bulgarian passenger instructed, pointing out the direction with a casual wave of his hand.
With a nod of her head, the driver assured they were in the proper lane to turn their vehicle as Simeon cocked his head to face those behind him. Dressed in a completely black Muggle suit and dark mirrored sunglasses, Charlie couldn't help but believe that the friend sitting at the head of the van was a secret Unspeakable about to interrogate the five other occupants of the inescapable enclosed space. The darkly dressed man only gave a simple bob of his head before resuming his gaze to traffic, signalling the journey was near an end.
Clearing her throat, the woman sitting next to Charlie immediately began what appeared to be a pre-arranged Muggle-orientation speech, going through the highly detailed basics of avoiding certain words and appearing natural as a box of dark sunspecs was passed around the other five passengers and driver. Everyone took a pair and placed them before their eyes, completing their Muggle attired looks of dark-coloured business suits that wouldn't have been out of place in the business district of any major city.
"Any violation of these rules breaks the strict regulations of wizard secrecy," Tamara wound down the long introduction just as Charlie began to really listen, "and is a punishable offence. The last thing we need is someone needing a disciplinary hearing."
"Ve're here," Simeon announced to the backseat before anyone could roll their eyes behind the dark glasses.
All eyes veered to the right side of the van, peering out the tinted windows to gaze at the building that served the Romanian government as well as the Romanian Ministry of Magic, Palatul Victoria. The national flag of blue, yellow and red columns flew from four staffs in front as well as atop of the beige structure, standing proudly on the backdrop. Rays of sunlight reflected off the many windows, masking the important people inside from the busy city. At the entrance to a driveway was an iron gate accompanied by a lone guard, doing his watch job much like the people gazing from the van.
"Not this gate," Simeon instructed, noticing the slight twist in Abby's hand as if she were going to direct the vehicle in that way. "Next one."
A simple nod was the only response to his order, the van pressing forward a few more metres down the road before turning into another driveway behind some majestic pine trees. There another lone guard was stationed at an identical iron gate. At the sight of the approaching car, he got to work and strode towards the driver's side.
Simeon quickly pushed a button sitting between the driver and passenger that allowed the window to slowly recede downward into the door. Reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he pulled out a wallet-sized folder and handed it to Abby before the guard had them in his view. On reaching the window, the female driver had already opened it to flash the gold badge. Without a single word, the guard turned back to his station and opened the gate for the van to pass into the parking lot.
"All right then," Tamara unbuckled her seatbelt and stood as tall as she could given the height of the van while Abby yanked the gearshift in order to squeeze into a small space in the shadow of the building, "you all know what to do."
The car halted in the tight space, the two cars on either side having shrunk in order to admit them. Everyone unbuckled and one by one the backseat emptied of the occupying wizards and witch, all of them filing out of the van and straightening their dark attire as if they had arrived for work by carpool. One motion of a hand got the group of seven to follow Simeon towards the nearest door in a silent march, walking into the government building without hesitation.
From there, the group inconspicuously divided. Tamara headed towards a corridor of elevators with three others on her heels as Simeon led Charlie and Abby up a tall flight of stone stairs; passing many Muggles whom conversed amongst themselves with black leather folders, closed briefcases, and cups filled with hot drinks in their hands. None of the people thought twice to give the trio a closer look, all of them too immersed in government business of their own to glance in that general direction.
Reaching a third landing and another set of glass doors marked with Romanian words, Simeon did not pause before leading the way through them and past the reception desk with no more than a nod. Forcing into a single file they went down a corridor lined with offices, each one marked with a different name in bold black to identify the occupant, as sounds of foreign tongues floated out from the gaps beneath the doors. Squeezing by bureaucrats, the three walked straight to the end of the hallway to a door marked: Emilian Zolnerowich. Simeon opened the office door, holding it open long enough the three of them to step in before he locked it behind them. The other four members of their Order already stood waiting in the small windowless and white office space, consisting only of a single desk, chair, filing cabinet and plastic plant.
At the click of the lock, Tamara crouched to the floor, pulling out the bottom drawer to the desk and removing a microphone attached to a stand. She took the mouthpiece and held it out to the man beside her, Mikhail Volkov. A flick of her finger turned it on. Allowing it to admit some static for a moment, she nodded to Mikhail and without delay his own foreign language filled the space for one long sentence.
"Velcome to the Ministry of Magic," a clear recording-like voice rang throughout the room once Mikhail had concluded. The carpeted floor of the office gave a sudden shudder as if they were in a lift going upwards. "Visitors, as you are transported to the reception area, please note that you must stop at the reception desk for vand examination as vell as to receive an access pass. You will not be admitted without either of these procedures. Have a nice day."
Charlie stumbled and clutched the filing cabinet, the lift shifting and jerking at sudden intervals as it ascended towards the Ministry. Looking about the office lift the others had also taken refuge from the movements by grabbing pieces of furniture, with the exception of Tamara and Simeon. It was evident that the lift hadn't been serviced in some time, badly needing of smoothness charm reinforcement, and the Order was quite pleased when the motion ceased and the door swung open on its own desire, allowing them to get out of the enclosed space into the Romanian Ministry of Magic.
Brilliantly lit, three of the walls surrounding were entirely glass windows in which the entire skyline of Bucharest, from the tallest skyscraper to the mountains in the North, could be seen. The white tiled floor gleamed by the light of the sun streaming in from all directions while the ceiling reflected a view of the solar system, the planets revolving around the young yellow star as the signs of the celestial zodiac circled them. A few metres away from the office lift was a long curved desk, where a single brunette woman sat looking thoroughly bored as she ushered for the group to come to her as a fierce security goblin with a glistening spear in hand shot them a nasty look.
The woman spoke in rapid Romanian as they approached, and though it was incomprehensible to the majority of them it was simple enough to follow in Simeon and Mikhail's example in removing their sunglasses and laying down their wands for inspection. Mikhail spoke on all their behalf, identifying each of their group members to the receptionist as she created individual access passes for the lot. Once each pass hung from someone's jacket like a luggage tag, the wands were passed back and the intense gaze of the goblin stepped back a few paces to allow the members to pass. The receptionist snapped her fingers seven times in quick procession, and seven area rugs whizzed out from behind the desk and lined up before the Order.
"Easiest method of transport within the Ministry," Mikhail translated the receptionist's Romanian words as he stepped up and sat at the centre of the Oriental rug in front of him. "Quite comfortable, actually."
At that suggestion, the others approached their carpets. Charlie boarded onto a larger red one, feeling the soft rug adjust beneath his weight and conform to the shape of his derriere. Mikhail hasn't kidded when he mentioned it was comfortable. By far, it was better than straddling a broom.
Once they had all mounted, the carpets took off with a jolt, leading the procession of seven rugs from the reception desk and up a long dark tube at the only wall not made of windows. The single light at the end of the tunnel grew wider quickly, speeding the Order through quicker than the lift had. Within seconds, they had emerged at the other end where it looked as though they had entered a completely different space.
The high-beamed ceiling was ideal for flying through and there were many workers at the Ministry who seemed to agree as they soared over a sea of cubicles. Groundling wizards and witches rushed about beneath the flying carpets, taking no notice to them as it was part of a natural day, while passing office gossip along with black and green-coloured file folders. Carpets carrying wizards zipped in and out of vestibules along the walls, each hallway signifying a different Department of the government. There was no time to linger in awe at the massive energy below as the carpets continued on the journey and swerved to the end of the large cubical area and down a well-lit corridor.
In the limited hall space, the Order flew by single file, racing above office doors. By luck no one else, on ground or on carpet, seemed to be occupying the corridor allowing the seven to speed by without having to stop and let another pass. The rugs took them right to the end, where the corridor ended and opened into a circular area with a desk in front of a closed door marked: Emilian Zolnerowich: Minister of Magic.
"Buna dimineata," a head popped up from behind the desk belonging to a dark-haired woman with a large smile. "Ma numesc Rodika Sokoll. Pot sa va ajut?"
Mikhail responded to the perky young lady, leaving Simeon to translate the speech for the rest of the group. "Good morning. My name is Rodika Sokoll. Can I help you?"
"Oh, you speaking English!" Rodika exclaimed at the words coming from Simeon's mouth, standing at her desk to reveal her bright green and gold embellished robes. "And you here to see the Mr Zolnerowich! He be ready for you soon. Please, seat."
Dismounting the carpets was a task trickier than getting on. With the flex of weight and constant adjustment in trying to come down, the only solution for the men was to jump off while the two ladies slid forward to land on their feet. Once free of their passengers, the carpets lay still on the floor, inanimate and waiting for the next snap to duty.
The Order members couldn't bring themselves to sit, all seven of them standing in the waiting area in relative silence. Matthew and Shane began to absently pace around the room, unconvincingly attempting to look at artwork on the walls with consistent glancing down at their watches. Mikhail and Tamara stood against a bare patch of wall looking over the notes that had been produced from Tamara's wand while Simeon looked as though he were standing asleep in the middle of it all, unflinching. Abby's arms were crossed over her dark grey pants suit, her front teeth biting down on her lower lip as Charlie watched her a short distance from the reception desk.
"Can't really get more direct than this," Charlie whispered so only Abby could hear, giving her a small smile in the hope it would be contagious.
The grin on her face fleeted quickly, but it had appeared for the brief seconds that it did. Two fingers brushed against Abby's ear, pushing hair back and tucking it behind gently as the lips belonging to the same party planted a kiss on her forehead before moving down to the tip of her nose. "Don't be nervous."
"Same to you."
A click of the door alerted the entire room to Rodika as she pushed it open and gestured with her wand. "The Minister is ready for you now."
Charlie felt a gob of saliva slide down his throat, his brain unaware that he had even swallowed in the first place as his mind raced ahead of him. Looking back to the rest of the Order, they all nodded in unison. Stepping forward together, they went through the door slowly and closely knit.
The office of the Minister was unlike one Charlie had ever seen before, and he had once been to the office of renowned eccentric Auror, Alastor Moody. Lit only by the dancing flames of a fireplace and floating candles above their heads, velvet drapes drawn over the long windows, the room's lush colours of crimson, violet, and gold seemed all the more decadent. Portraits of old wizards lined the walls, all following the small group of seven intently with their shadowy eyes without uttering a single word between painted lips. A large circle of armchairs sat before a desk, where a middle-aged man in navy blue robes sat with a cup of tea in his hands, gently letting small puffs of his breath cool the drink.
"Velcome," the man greeted kindly, standing in his seat and placing his cup and saucer down. At his full height, the man was small in stature. The top of his head supported a thinning layer of black hair that extended down into a thin sharp beard and distinguished moustache on his face. Twinkling out of place, his eyes gave off a softer glow than his harsher features, adding a welcomed slight ease to the Order members. "Ah, you are the people from the Dragon Reserve. Nice to see you again, Ms Cohen."
Tamara nodded politely, holding out her hand to be shaken. "It is good to see you as well, Minister."
"Vell, please be seated and ve shall get down to your business," the Minister for Magic gestured, seating himself again as the Order found places to plant themselves in the nearest armchairs. Cups of tea floated into their empty hands from the surface of the lone desk before them, barely a ripple being made in the hot liquid. "You know vell that I am alvays ready to hear of progress and research at the reserve. It is a national pride of magical Romania to be responsible for caring for such beasts. Vhat is your purpose today? Trouble? Funding? Vorking visas for new recruits? Normally Mr Vilde only sends Tamara for such matters. Must be something very important today."
"Trouble would be the appropriate category to place this meeting," Tamara put eloquently, balancing her cup of tea on the arm of her sturdy chair. "We come in a most dire time, Mr Zolnerowich, but it has little to do with the reserve. I'm sorry for booking an appointment in the name of the reserve, but it was the quickest way to speak to you face to face. I do hope you will understand."
"We represent the Order of the Phoenix," Charlie spoke up, grabbing the attention of the Minister and all the portraits around him, "an organization against the rising of You-Know-Who in the United Kingdom. I'm sure you have heard the news from the newspapers and such."
"I have," Mr Zolnerowich nodded solemnly, looking down at his cup of tea and stirring in another lump of fine white sugar. "It is a tremendous tragedy, and my sympathy to the country as vell as the people."
"There are other ways to help, Minister," Matthew interjected, bowing his head in addressing the important government figure. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is already causing much havoc in the nation. There is a need for allies in any form. It is not just a war in the United Kingdom."
"Vhat exactly are you all proposing to me?" the Minister asked, looking out towards the Order members with his eyebrows narrowing. "Keep short, for there are other businesses to tend to. My schedule is tight."
"We ask for nothing specific," Abby added in her voice, treading carefully in her words, "only that your support goes against You-Know-Who."
"Even if just a kind word of support to Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic in London," Shane put in his own words. "This is a time when wizards have to stand united against a common evil."
"Anything helps, sir," said Mikhail, nearly spilling his tea onto the lush carpeting as he quickly leaned forward in the armchair. "It is a small price to pay for peace over the entire globe."
Mr Zolnerowich raised his hand, calling for silence amongst the small group that was given immediately. At the end of the chatter, he brought his tea up to his lips and took a long drink, seeming unusually calm considering all that had been said as he drained all the contents. Placing his cup back down on the desk, he leaned back in his chair, his hands folded on his knees as if in deep silent thought for only a moment.
"You all argue vell," he began, tilting his head to one side. "My sympathy is certainly with your country in its time of great need and I commend your more than noble efforts. However, Romania is unable to extend its hand to England at this moment. My people have found much struggle in choosing sides of a var, and ve choose to no longer do so in such events. Ve vill remain neutral. Please understand. It is not our var to be involved in. I am afraid ve cannot help you."
"But Mr Zolnerowich…" Charlie started to speak.
"Rodika," the Minister called out for his personal assistant, the dark-haired woman scampering quickly into the office room. "Kindly see these people out, and back to the visitor entrance. I have a Department meeting shortly, and I must compose thoughts before it. I am sorry that I cannot see you out myself."
"Da Minister," Rodika responded right away with a ladylike curtsy to her boss, smiling to the Order. "Come. I shall summon the carpets to see you out."
The seven rose and began to file out behind Rodika as she snapped her fingers for the flying rugs. Before the door could close, Charlie peered back into the office, watching Emilian Zolnerowich closely as he stood from his seat and turned towards his drawn curtains, his back to the Order of the Phoenix.
A/N: This chapter has had so many rewrites and has been edited more than a few times, so I think I need to point that out. At first it moved so slow through the description, so it has been cut a few times and details I didn't find necessary were deleted to combat the pacing issue. Then I cut dialogues too near the beginning. There was a lot more there, but then it felt silly so that was cut.
Regardless, I hope this brief tour of the Romanian Ministry of Magic was fun. I tried to make it a little different from London's Ministry, but there's only so much you can change.
There are some language things in here, one was translated in text, and I think it's easy to conclude that "Da" means yes.
The model for Emilian Zolnerowich was Al Pacino.
I hope I still have your attention after my one month hiatus. Sorry. Life gets in the way of writing.