Somewhere in mainland Europe, flexible for the investigators to decide later

---

"Heinz! Good grief, it's been what, two years. How are you?" Johann clapped his cold hand in a firm shake with the other wizard. Heinz Werner had worked for Drammes Apotheke for decades, Johann reckoned. He exchanged his handshake with Johann, and although the early winter wind looked to carry his hat away, it was held fast by a charm. There was a clear expression of recognition spread across his features. That, and some surprise at seeing a former company contractor here at a supplier.

The younger man glanced down at the leather briefcase clasped in Heinz's left hand, pretending it was more that he'd stumbled over something in the yard outside the building.
"How's Marietta? Your son-" Johann let go of Werner's hand to grasp his left shoulder instead, keeping eye contact without distraction, making out to remember the Werner children names, about to show off of his memory capabilities.

Two looming figures approached Werner from behind, wands in hand, unnoticed by the apothecary certifier. Knowing what was about to happen, Johann didn't bother to finish his sentence, but relinquished his grip on the left shoulder only as Werner's knees buckled and his head dropped forward. Instead he stooped to retrieve the briefcase from the ground, and tried not to stare too long at his old acquaintance's limp body, and at the fact the charm still held his hat in place despite the angle. They didn't have time.




Inside, Johann vanished amongst the lines of wood crates filled with all manner of strange and wonderful ingredients. They were all bound for Paris and from there on to London, safely inside the efficient machine that was Drammes Apotheke's supply chain. He tried not to think about whether a wizard could fit in one of these crates, or about what else might be smuggled in. This was not the first, nor the last time that he would falsify papers for imports. It was best not to ask why, but just to do. He needed to keep Ira Almasy's trust.

The leather briefcase came open with surprisingly little resistance, spilling the forms and stamps out onto the top of one of the crates. As Johann made quick work of filling out all the relevant paperwork, another set of hands snatched up a heavy ink stamp, heading around the warehouse to mark each crate, further ensuring their safe transport to Britain. Although Johann was preoccupied with double checking the hellebore papers, he did listen out faintly for cries of anguish from human cargo.

He paid close attention to matching Werner's neat handwriting, just as he had practised. He signed the certifiers signature beside the official seal on each one, over and over until each different product line was done. Werner would have selected some crates for random testing, and much as they could have confunded him over it, this was swifter and more reliable to falsify it all without delay. Werner's visit would be normal, run of the mill, absolutely down to the shortest time possible. For this reason, Johann, with his limited experience in completing certification papers, could not afford an interruption.




As he raced to finish the last ones, there was the intentionally noisy greeting outside the building to warn them all that the distribution staff from Drammes had arrived to collect the crates. Werner would have duly signed off by now and be there in the yard to hand over the papers. Quill flying over the pages, Johann tried not to panic, blue eyes barely blinking as he concentrated, safely concealed. Someone would be reviving Werner, modifying his memory. Layton recruited strange wizards, but he didn't doubt their efficiency.

There were unsteady footsteps behind him as he signed the very last certificate and waved his wand to bind the papers. Whirling round he came face to face with his old acquaintance once more, the two figures from before propped him up. Hurriedly, the supplier owner reappeared to shove the stamp back into the briefcase on top of the crate, nodding that it was done.

Johann did not speak, but silently placed the bound papers into Werner's hand, curling the man's fingertips around them. He closed up the brown leather briefcase and handed it back to him, doing the same again, as if he were a small child. He squeezed the man's left shoulder as he began to come round. He hoped Schaffer, Ulrike and and probably not to little Karli were all well for their father's sake. With a nod to the two beside him, Johann dashed away in the nick of time, disapparating as soon as he was clear of the wards.