Cologne, 12th November 1994
My Most Esteemed Minister Macmillan,
I have arrived in Cologne as scheduled and have taken up quarters. My German contact is a certain Frau Ursula Fischer. Might I trouble you to arrange for a thorough review of her background? If memory serves, a family by the name of Fischer was once associated with Grindelwald.
Tomorrow, we shall proceed to survey the site. Rest assured, I shall keep you apprised of all developments.
Yours most faithfully,
G. Greengrass
Cologne, 12th November 1994
My Dearest Aquila,
Even now, I find myself already missing you and little Cereus terribly. I can so clearly picture you both entering the salon, and the house-elf bringing in the evening meal—perhaps a tender braised kid? The food here in Germany is quite simple, though rather good, if a bit surprising in its combinations. My innkeeper served me black pudding with applesauce today—can you imagine such a pairing? It’s an oddity, to be sure, but I suppose I must adapt.
As for my accommodations, they are rather spartan, though I must remind myself that the Ministry has arranged everything. Naturally, we cannot expect the usual comforts we are accustomed to. Still, the view is delightful. The Cologne Cathedral—Kölner Dom—is an awe-inspiring structure. Its towering spires rise sharply into the sky, casting long shadows over the city. The intricate Gothic architecture, with its detailed stone carvings, brings to mind the weight of centuries of history. I am particularly drawn to the wizarding area above the southern choir, an area I think we must explore together when the opportunity arises. It’s a space steeped in both architectural beauty and magical significance.
I kiss and embrace you both,
Your Gareth
Cologne, 12th November 1994
My dear Pelleas,
Thus begins my first official journey in this new position of mine. As you well know, I am prohibited from discussing the particulars of my work; however, I thought I might offer you a glimpse of the surroundings in which I now find myself. I trust that my descriptions will provide you with some small diversion, and perhaps lift your thoughts, if only momentarily, from the grim confines of Azkaban.
It is, however, rather late this evening, and I must rise early tomorrow, so I will restrict myself for tonight to describing the river Rhine.
You may, understandably, think, "Water—surely that is something I have had more than enough of," but I assure you, this mighty river is truly awe-inspiring. It is grander and broader than the Thames in London! One cannot help but feel the sheer force of the water as it flows relentlessly past the spellbound wizard at the shore, unperturbed by onlookers or the passage of time.
The weather here is rather grey and gloomy, but I need not tell you of such things.
Do write to me soon, my dear fellow. I have taken the liberty of including parchment and ink, in case you are in need of supplies.
Your brother,
Gareth
Cologne, 13th November 1994
My Most Esteemed Minister Macmillan,
Today, accompanied by Frau Fischer, I visited the war graves at Cologne Southern Cemetery. The issue presented itself almost immediately: several ghosts of British soldiers initially launched verbal attacks upon Frau Fischer, which soon escalated into attempts at physical aggression. Though their spectral nature rendered these attempts ineffectual, they were nonetheless a source of considerable discomfort for her.
The German authorities have temporarily closed the cemetery to both Muggles and wizards alike; however, this measure cannot be sustained indefinitely without significant effort. Extending Muggle-repelling charms to encompass all Commonwealth authorities involved in commemorative events would be an onerous task. Furthermore, such an absence of response from Germany will not go unnoticed for long.
The ghosts, for their part, were amicable towards me. I endeavoured to question them but found them to be in a state of extraordinary confusion. None appeared to be aware that the Second World War had ended some fifty years ago. Initial investigations confirm, as anticipated, that none of the usual spells or counter-spells affecting the living appear to have any impact upon them.
I shall conduct further experiments on the matter tomorrow and report my findings accordingly.
Yours most faithfully,
G. Greengrass
Cologne, 13th November 1994
Dearest Aquila,
You always told me that you never wanted me to work in the Death Chamber, or research within that field. Regrettably, I had little choice. With my brother Pelleas, and your cousins Rodolphus and Rabastan—whom we tragically lost to the dark cause and who now sit in Azkaban—our family bears a heavy burden, and it was difficult to even secure the security clearance for the Department of Mysteries. I have not entirely given up on the dream of working within the Time Room, but for now, I am content here and will give my best.
What I truly wish to say is this: I had always thought your aversion to the Death Chamber was mere superstition—please forgive me for that, my love. Of course, as always, you were the wiser one. You know I am not at liberty to discuss the details of my work, but since there has already been an article in the German press, it will likely soon be in the Daily Prophet as well. At least I can tell you that the focus here is on the ghosts of fallen British soldiers in Germany. Ghosts have been a part of my life since childhood, as you know well, with the two dear old spirits who reside in the room with the green dormer. I won’t go into too much detail, but some of the injuries of the ghosts here are so disturbing that even in silver, they are hard to look at.
Please give our little Cereus an extra hug from me today, and write me of the lovely things happening with you both.
Yours,
Gareth
15th November 1994
My Most Esteemed Minister Macmillan,
Reports of new, dramatic incidents in Hamburg compel me to journey there at once. It appears that Muggles have sustained physical injuries, whereas in Cologne, the effects have been limited to discomfort and dizziness.
My contact in Hamburg is to be a certain Herr Ansgar Voigt. May I kindly request that you arrange for a review of his credentials?
Yours most faithfully,
G. Greengrass
Hamburg, 16th November 1994
Dear Pelleas,
I have continued my journey further north and have arrived in Hamburg, a great city by the Elbe. The Elbe is indeed a considerable river, though not quite so awe-inspiring as the Rhine. It boasts a large port, though, as my German acquaintance Ansgar informed me, it holds little significance for wizards. German wizards, it seems, tend to travel from Bremen, should they not be able to afford overseas Portkeys.
The area in which I am housed by the Ministry is rather dull and, regrettably, a Muggle neighbourhood. The Hamburg wizarding community resides mostly to the west of the city, in charming houses along steep stairs that lead down to the riverbank—ideal, I should imagine, for taking flight directly from one's front door. Of course, such considerations are entirely lost on the Muggles. To reach the wizarding inn in my Muggle quarter, one must cast a charm, throwing three drops of water from the "Diebsteich" underpass against the tiles, and then a door will appear between the brambles. Ansgar assures me that it is a secure and quiet place, safe from both Muggles and wizards. As of yet, I am uncertain whom I ought to be wary of.
Today, I took a walk through the Ohlsdorfer Cemetery, the largest non-military cemetery in the world. The vast lawns are bordered by tall trees whose branches sway gently in the wind, creating a soft rustling sound. Amidst the trees, one can see the intricately carved gravestones and memorials, which in the twilight seem to exude a somewhat mystical atmosphere. The military part with its sadly endless seeming rows of white headstones is less mystical and more quiet, but visually right now a nice contrast with the poppies. The stillness is only interrupted by the occasional twittering of birds and the rustling of leaves underfoot. It is a place of quiet reflection, where one's thoughts are easily turned inward. Or at least it would be, if not for the reasons I was sent here which I cannot disclose.
I trust these few lines bring you some diversion and cheer. Do write to me soon.
Your brother,
Gareth
Hamburg, 18th November 1994
My Beloved Aquila,
Your last letter greatly troubled me, and I wish I could return immediately to see little Cereus for myself. I can only hope to bring this matter to a swift conclusion here, though there is also a certain level of political pressure, which I am unable to elaborate on.
To be entirely honest, the Anglo-German relations are of far less importance to me than the health of our daughter. What you describe in your letter is indeed deeply concerning, and it calls to mind Astoria's condition. I shall write to Hyperion right away. Feel free to write to him or Victoria as well; perhaps you can arrange to meet in person.
With all my love,
Gareth
Hamburg, 18th November 1994
Dear Hyperion,
I hope this letter finds you, Victoria, and the children well. I realise I haven’t yet responded to the news about Queenie’s new boyfriend. Have you met him yet? Tremblay is quite a fine name, and seems to be of pure blood, but perhaps you might want to ask her again if she’s certain about becoming involved with a Frenchman. Not specifically because he is French, but because I am now vividly experiencing how complicated international relationships can be, and how long and deeply the effects of past wars and conflicts can continue to linger. Well, Queenie is no longer a child, and she has chosen to work in the Department of International Cooperation, so I trust she knows what she’s doing.
Actually, I didn’t intend to discuss Queenie with you, but rather Astoria, or more specifically, our little Cereus, though it pains me to do so. To be honest, I am afraid. If Aquila has written to you, her letter has probably already reached you, but just to be certain, I will write again about the situation.
Our Cereus has always been a delicate, one might even say pale, child, but never any more fragile or sensitive than others, certainly not in any worrying way. This seems to have changed dramatically in the last few days. She isn’t exactly ill, no fever or anything like that, but she complains of pains in her limbs, coughs terribly, and breathes shallowly. On top of that, she is so weak she can barely stand, and is listless—doesn’t want to play, draw, or do anything. She only cries and cannot bear it when Aquila leaves her room. Perhaps I am being overly anxious, but doesn’t this remind you of Astoria’s symptoms? Cereus is now five years old; when did it begin with Astoria? I seem to recall that we were certain about it around five years ago, when she was about eight, but did it perhaps start earlier? Please write back quickly! Maybe you (or Victoria) could also visit Aquila and Cereus to get a clearer picture for yourselves.
Warm regards,
Your Gareth
PS: I’ve been writing letters to Pelleas from my travels, I hope it lifts his spirits a bit and doesn’t burden him further, being trapped there as he is. What do you think?
Hamburg, 19th November 1994
My Most Esteemed Minister Macmillan,
I must state, with the utmost frankness, that I care little—if at all—about the political ramifications of my investigations. You, or another senior official of the Ministry of Magic, must convene with Fudge and Major. I fear that we cannot rely on Minister Fudge to collaborate effectively with the new Muggle Prime Minister.
Though their tenures overlapped but briefly, it seems abundantly clear that the previous Muggle Prime Minister must have utterly corrupted him. All evidence here suggests that Fudge is pursuing his own agenda (or perhaps hers), entirely at odds with our official foreign policy.
If necessary, I believe we may even need to inform the Queen—perhaps through the assistance of former Minister Bagnold.
Yours most faithfully,
G. Greengrass
Hamburg, 20th November 1994
My Most Esteemed Minister Macmillan,
I must extend my sincerest apologies for the tone and content of my last letter. Both were entirely unbecoming of my position. I can only plead that personal concerns have led me to seek a swift resolution to the matter at hand.
Yours most faithfully,
G. Greengrass
P.S. On a purely personal note, I still stand by my recommendations, should you deem them worthy of consideration as friendly advice.
Hamburg, 23rd November 1994
My Dearest Aquila,
How relieved I am to hear that Cereus is feeling better! Do write to me as soon as you have the results from St. Mungo! I am so sorry that you are at home alone right now, but I am making progress here.
Yes, I know that Hyperion and Victoria have not told Astoria about the blood curse, and I do believe it was a mistake not to inform her. She is already thirteen, and she is no fool—she must have noticed that she sometimes cannot go to Hogwarts for weeks, while Queenie and Daphne do not have the same issue. Surely, she knows she is unwell, but she has no idea just how serious it is. When the truth comes to light, it will be a terrible shock. I only hope we are spared such a conversation with Cereus.
I have hung her drawing above my bed here. It warms and brightens my heart far more than any candle ever could.
With all my love,
Your Gareth
Hamburg, 26th November 1994
Dearest Aquila,
With Astoria, the diagnosis was also a lengthy process, I’m afraid, and I fear there is no way to expedite it. For now, as long as she is not yet here, we may hold onto the hope that Cereus has been spared from the dreadful curse.
I will be with you soon! I miss you both so much! I cannot bear the thought of missing Advent and the Christmas season with you; I know how eagerly Cereus is looking forward to it as well.
I embrace you tightly,
Your husband, Gareth
Hamburg, 28th November 1994
Dear Hyperion,
As Unspeakable, I am unfortunately not allowed to speak much, or rather, anything at all, about my work. So consider it a sudden inspiration when I tell you: Fudge is an idiot, and as Minister for Magic, he is far too easily influenced. You should be aware of this in the Wizengamot; it is dangerous, but perhaps we can also use it to our advantage, should we or other reasonable people manage to get close to him. Perhaps we can even do something for Pelleas.
Yours,
Gareth
Hamburg, 27th November 1994
Dear Pelleas,
The weather remains as grey and bleak as ever here in northern Germany, almost as dreary as it was at Hogwarts in those days. Yet today, the first Sunday of Advent, something truly wonderful has occurred: the people here, both Muggles and wizards alike, have begun to light more and more candles. As one walks through the streets now, everything seems to sparkle, and the gloom has lifted somewhat. Just a week ago, there were also many lights on the cemetery, at least in the areas that were not cordoned off.
I do wish I could send you some of this light to Askaban; I wish you could have light and candles there as well. My brother, hang on.
Your Gareth
Hamburg, 29th November 1994
My Most Esteemed Minister Macmillan,
I am pleased to inform you that I have successfully identified the curse that was influencing the ghosts of the soldiers. While the German curse-breakers are fully capable of handling it, Herr Voigt and I believe that involving a British curse-breaker would be a gesture of goodwill and beneficial for the relations between our countries. Might I trouble you to arrange this?
The detailed final report on the magical components of the curse shall be delivered to you personally at the Ministry. The situation has also yielded intriguing insights into the interaction between ghostly matter and grey curses, which we may wish to explore further in future research.
Should you continue to overlook my earlier overreach in competence, I would be glad to share how this situation arose. Your last letter seemed to convey a certain curiosity on the matter. Politically, the issue is somewhat delicate, involving both the wizarding and Muggle communities, as well as their coexistence.
I confess to having only a cursory understanding of Muggle politics, but Herr Voigt has explained that Germany has undergone significant changes in recent years. The former Muggle Prime Minister, it appears, was dissatisfied with these developments, as well as with the direction taken by her successor. Despite her removal from office, she maintained contact with Minister Fudge. Strange as it may sound to speak of a Muggle and a wizard in this way, I believe she holds the upper hand over him. She persuaded him to unofficially dispatch someone to Germany to stir up the ghosts of British war dead—a highly sensitive matter in both countries.
Frankly, dear Madam Macmillan, I am relieved to leave the political ramifications of this affair to others. I trust that, at your direction, our colleagues in the Department of International Magical Cooperation will address these challenges.
Yours most faithfully,
Gareth Greengrass
Hamburg, 29th November 1994
My dear little angel,
Papa is coming home. Tomorrow I will be with you and Mama and can give you both the biggest hug.
Your Papa