(( I am not happy with this chapter but I’m putting it up anyway ))

The lightless grey of dawn smeared its way across the heavens. The drunken duck inn was almost empty. Joel the towns drunk was being hauled into a room out of sight by the landlord and the landlady was cooking breakfast for her other guests who were yet to stir. The Baron looked out of the window onto the same street he had fled with Wilbur some ten years before. The cobbled streets were still water logged with this winters rain and outside he could hear the shopkeepers opening their shops and shooing away unwanted vermin and the homeless that blocked the entrances to their premises. The Baron watched as one shopkeeper tried to dislodge a flock of pigeons that had roosted on the roof of his porch.

Another shopkeeper was disgruntled as a bearded man who had been sleeping on the steps walked towards him. The Baron was amused. If the Quiditch supplies keeper had any idea who had been sleeping on his steps he might have had a different attitude. The man walked with uncertain steps almost tripping over the twine that he was using as a belt. His robes were stained and had mould growing on them. The muggles never noticed the robes, they never noticed him at all if they could help it. Amusing then it was to think that this man was once rich and now was only well off. This man could have chosen a life more suited to the wizard or even muggle ideals of decency. Wilbur had become fixated on one thing.

The Baron crossed to the inn door and unlocked it; he stood back to let Wilbur through. The landlady screwed up her nose in distaste but said nothing. The Baron had long ago cured her of it. Wilbur sat in the most shadowy corner of the inn. The Baron picked up his plate of breakfast and walked towards the table as the landlady got out a can of air freshener and sprayed it in Wilbur’s general direction. She was a witch and could easily have dispelled the odd smell with her wand but found it got on Wilbur’s nerve to spray him with something that pretended to be lavender and the hissing noise was a satisfactorily accompaniment to her own feelings. The Baron laid down the plate in front of Wilbur who began eating.

“I am glad you are consumink somethink other than Fvire vhisky, my friend.”

Wilbur said nothing to the Baron. Not until he had cleaned the plate. The baron sat opposite and waited, despite the oncoming light of day. This part of Amsterdam was kept murky with hardly any light. It wasn’t intended for such creatures as the Baron but most ended up here all the same. Finally Wilbur looked up.

“Tell me Baron. Do vampires have to eat the garlic or does its presence merely keep you away?”

The Baron smiled. He knew Wilbur already knew the answer. Wilbur wore an amulet of garlic around his neck. The Baron would never have bitten Wilbur intentionally. Accidents can happen they both had experience of that. Now Wilbur taunted him with it.

“Your title is Baron Magpyr. This I know. This has been confirmed by many sources. You’ve undertook many names in your past and I have found out that Vladimir Vorbrotten is not your name.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I have followed you around the world for ten years. Where ever you go I follow.”

“Vhy Vilbur? I never asked fvor your companionship. It iss to dangerous fvor you. Your shootink Arrovs vas hugely successssfvul, I heard they vere even goink to put you in a book : Quidditch through the ages.  Vell your allias anyvay. Hov ever your sparadic services as a man servent are allvays appreciated. Still Vilbur vhy? ”

“ I had to! Are you Vladimir Vorbrotten Magpyr?”

“I ansver to that name.”

“But it isn’t you. You’re something else. Vladimir vorbrotten Magpyr has only been around in the last couple of centuries. You’re older than he is.”

“ Much older. Yet he is I. Perhaps a little viser and more controlled but he is me nov”

Wilbur nodded and put a mouldy diary on the table.

“Read it.”

The Baron reached forward and picked it up. He flicked through the pages and only found one entry. Two weeks ago and it was stained. The Baron almost flung the book aside but managed to restrain himself. The smell of dried blood made his mouth water but he resigned himself to reading it.

Saturday 29^th.

This is a faithful narrative written by me, as strongly suggested by a mutual friend.

This narrative involves background on my patron Baron Magpyr.

This afternoon a woman who was dressed in magenta approached me in the street.

This was unusual as the only people who usually approach me other than my patron do so to tell me to get off their premises. She asked if I would accompany her to a café and bought me a hot drink and food. She herself had nothing. She would not speak until she saw me tuck in.

“I have come to inquire about a fvriend of mine.” her accent was almost unnoticeable.

I asked her plainly whom she meant. And she replied Baron Vladimir vorbrotten Magpyr. As an after thought she said he might have changed it.

I considered it my duty to ask why she wanted him. She spoke sharply. why did  I protected him? She then changed tracks and said that I didn’t know what company I kept. He was not what he seemed. it was all very melodramatic i expected the man sittng at the table near us to start twiddling his moustache. I told her full well that I knew he was a vampire. She was not shocked infact she seemed delighted. I also said I recognised her for one as well and she shouldn’t try anything as I was wearing garlic and i wouldnt taste very nice because i was quite old and tough. She said in a very sweet voice. “did you knov your friend is a killer?”  What a stupid question i thought. "yeh"  I answered. "He’s a vampire". She smiled “that’s not what I meant.” Do you know why he’s called Vladimr Vorbrotten?" she hardly paused for me to answer , she read my eyes. "Let me tell you we nicknamed him Vladimir because of the brutal way he used to dispose of his victims. On a more amusing note we named him after the Count Dracula whom we all despise, he and the head of our rivals used to kill in the same brutal way.  It is funny that he keeps his middle name for it means forbidden. You see he is forbidden to return back home. To his home and his lands he comes and goes as I please!” she laughed. I began to notice that she was losing her accent, she had the gift of blending in matching accents with those around her , my patron has never been able to do that."...yes as I please! As brothers my husband and he were inseparable! I of course saw to that. Why did they divide? Over me!” she squealed again with laughter. “They fought over me then when he lost me he turned into a beast! You must have seen his temper. Bastion Hans Magpyr went mad! When you look over Transylvanian history see how many murders there were! He always carved a K into their thigh. The K was for me! He remained Bastion the beast for a long time until he left the country where no one would recognise him only then is he known as something else! He is always given the traditional welcome when he comes home. Mobs baying for his head, the ancestors and loved ones all yelling for revenge upon Bastion Hans Magpyr their once devoted master.”

The baron stopped reading. He looked up at Wilbur and put down the diary.

“Well? Is it true?”

“ Is vot true Vilbur?”

“The diary!”

The Baron sighed.

“The name I vas born under vas Bastion Hans. The name I vas turned under vas Bastion Hans. This seems to be a fairly accurate narrative. Vot do you vish me to say? It is not the vhole truth. Most importantly iss Killishandra still here?”

“the lady in magenta?”

The baron nodded. Wilbur shook his head.

“Vilbur I am goink to fulfil my qvest. I am goink fvor Lockhart. He hass taken a job at Hogvarts. I vill go there. You vill get on vith your life. I do not vant you dvellink on my past. Live your ovn life.”

The Barron stood up and left to his room.