Priozersk.
It was a small town in the northwestern Soviet Union, north of St. Petersburg, on the shores of Lake Ladoga.
Even though it was already May, the weather remained cool.
At dusk, Murphy descended from the sky as a bolt of lightning and appeared near a bend in the river.
After receiving Barty Crouch Jr.'s message, Murphy had come straight here. Opening a dialogue had been his goal all along, and Barty Crouch Jr.'s account had given him some idea of what was going on.
This could well be an opportunity to advance his plans in the Soviet Union.
Shortly after he appeared, a face suddenly emerged on a white pine beside him. Then a man stepped out of the tree. "Mr. Murphy Darkholme?"
Murphy glanced at him. The man wore a smart military uniform beneath a cloak covered in blue and red stripes, seemingly a modern variation on shamanic dress.
"That's me."
"Please follow me. Her Majesty is waiting for you by the lake."
Murphy nodded, showing little surprise, and followed the man down a path toward the lakeshore.
"My name is Azir." The man walked a little ahead of Murphy, his manner quite friendly. "Court shaman. Something like Her Majesty's secretary and errand runner."
"Murphy. An ordinary wizard," Murphy said, introducing himself as well.
"You're far too modest." Azir's English seemed excellent, with barely a trace of a Soviet accent. "Practically everyone in Britain's wizarding community knows your name. I hear you're teaching at Hogwarts now?"
"You've done your homework."
"My apologies. We only made a few basic inquiries about you. After all, we rarely have opportunities to deal with wizards from other countries, and news is slow to reach us. This was the only way we could learn about you."
"Understandable. I'd have done the same,"