The Baron smiled bitterly and looked over the immense landscape of Romania with its rolling hills and dying plant life. Draughts affected everything. Romania was suffering from a draught and so was he. The moon appeared only as a slither in this barren sky where no stars could be seen. His eyesight was sharp it had improved with the years. His grey eyes gleamed in the shadows in which he was trying to conceal himself. He couldn’t stay here much longer. Where could he go? He looked down the hill. Home? Not so welcoming now as it had been only hours before. He looked across the landscape and with a sigh that died in the howling wind he made up his mind. He was going to trespass one more time.

Striding quickly against the wind He happened to look up at the monstrous building in the distance. Of course he couldn’t see it but he knew it was there just the same. Its presence made itself known with a tiny wisp of smoke that never managed to trail up in to the atmosphere. Maramures. The rivals home. The warring between their factions had gone on many centuries. He laughed greatly amused the only place that is truly safe is at the gates of my enemies. Then it came to him. The gates they would offer protection from the wind whilst he thought this thing out properly. No one from his clan would dare to have gone this far into enemy lands. He was perfectly safe; well at least from those who currently pursued him.

He sat down at the foot of the gates. The arches that supported them buffeted the wind. His hands felt numb. Numb with the cold. His hands were usually cold that didn’t concern him. What concerned him was what he was holding in his hands. His latest mistake. He looked at the front cover of the dog-eared book. There was a big photograph of a wizard, blonde haired and flashing his teeth in what humans called a charming smile. The Baron almost laughed. He could flash his teeth too; his charming smile would have made this peacock scream in terror. The bright blue eyes of this wizard sparkled as the man flicked his golden wavy hair into place. Wizard photos always moved. The Baron was still having the ancient belief that photos could steal your soul. Never would he be caught on film.

He smiled at the picture of the young author. To his immense satisfaction the wizard in the photo fled in terror. It had come down to this: not content with terrifying humans he was now reduced to scaring their photographs. Again he made the solemn vow to this pretty thing, the dazzling heroic young wizard author. Again he said it outloud.

“ Damn you, you insufferable creature! Gilderoy Lockhart not a night goes by since this hatefvul publication came out does my mind not vander in search fvor your vhereabouts. Pretty creature of the light I dream of vot vill take place vhen I fvind you!”

His thick accent seemed natural in this barbaric land and suitable for the gothic gates in which he sat in shelter. Voyaging with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart lay in his lap, as he pulled drawstrings for his shirt tighter to keep in the warmth. He saw one of the windows curtain twitch. Someone was at home. The master of the premises was out hunting of that the Baron was sure about it must be the help that kept watch. No wonder he hadn’t been challenged. He looked at the twitching velvet drape with contempt. It came to him he knew where he should go; the mistress of the house was working for the Humans in a place called azkaban. What held her attention there? He longed to find out. He called up to the humans peering behind the curtains in a voice unnaturally loud:

“ Fvear not younk vuns. I do not stay! The Baron of the Burrovs vas merely restink and nov continues on his vay!”

He laughed bitterly. How easy it was to invoke the title and home from which he was banished. Forbidden. His latest middle name. The Baron got up and stalked into the winds he could make the nearest town by daylight and rest there by day and by night he would travel in the style that was more suited to his taste. Slowly Baron Vladimir Vorbrotten Magpyr disappeared in the gales.