Heinrich laughed. "Now, what brings you here? Documentation, you said, Bella sent you…" he noticed Harry's uneasy look, and was quick to calm him down. "Do not worry. I do not ask questions, merely what I need to know to create what you want. Now, what exactly is it that you need?"
"Australian documentation. Muggle passport, birth certificate… the magical equivalents, too. And an apparition license." Harry had decided that he would rather not take the risk of walking into the Ministry to take the apparition test. It would just raise questions about who he was, should someone get nosy. Besides, it would be much more believable if he had an Australian license, since he claimed to be from there, anyway.
"Ah, the entire personal identity set, then." He looked Harry over. "You look a bit young to be a fugitive, or to be starting a new life over."
"I thought you weren't going to ask questions?" Harry asked wryly.
"I'm not, I'm not," Heinrich grinned and shrugged. "But you cannot fault my curiosity. It is not every day that I get a customer as young as you." He eyed Harry suspiciously for a moment. "You can pay, of course?"
"What's your price?"
"For the complete package? Magical and Muggle documentation?" Heinrich stroked his moustache for a moment. "Plus an apparition license? Fifteen thousand."
Harry frowned. That was a ridiculous price to ask, even in the wizarding world. A quick glance at the older man told him that he knew that, as well. "I could buy someone else's identity for that. Seven thousand."
It was Heinrich's turn to frown. "I cannot even pay the bills with that. Do you have any idea how much it will cost to get you your apparition license alone? And Australia… that is so far away. I will need to call in a lot of favors. I cannot do it below twelve."
"That's a load of bull," Harry countered. "Bella told me you're the best she knows for the job," he bluffed, "but she also warned me about your tendency to charge outrageous sums. Eight thousand."
Heinrich shook his head. "I do not get many customers. And, as Bella has told you, I do the best work. You go to someone else and the Ministry will detect the forgery on first sight." He looked down at Harry sternly. "Twelve thousand is my last word."
Harry bristled, but thought the offer over. It was still a lot of money, but could he afford to go to someone else? Bellatrix had obviously recommended this man, but really, how many forgers did a young schoolgirl know, despite her family connections. He had a feeling he was being tested. If I'm wrong, though… he didn't want to think about it. Squaring his shoulders, he looked up and pasted on his best poker face. "And what guarantee do I have that you are the best? For all I know, your work could be shoddy, as well."
"Ah, but I come with Bella's recommendation, do I not?" Heinrich waggled his finger in delight.
"Which means absolutely nothing to me," Harry retorted. "I don't trust her, and frankly, I don't trust you . Ten thousand. Or I'll take my chances."
Heinrich was silent for a long moment, a serious look on his face. Harry stared him down, but internally, he was quivering, hoping that he hadn't just blown it. He needed those documents, and he needed them soon, or he was going to get into trouble. He wasn't naïve enough to believe that he could get away without having to show some sort of ID or documentation at some point.
"Father," Sabine called out from the door to the kitchen, a reproaching tone in her voice. "Are you harassing our customers again?" She came through with a tray laden with three cups and a kettle. Depositing it on the counter between her father and Harry, she frowned at him and shook her head. "You know how much it scares the customers when you do that. And one so young!"
"All right, all right, Sabine, Schatz." Her father looked up and chuckled at Harry's confused expression.
"I apologize for father's behavior, Harry," Sabine said as she leaned over, placing a cup in front of Harry. "He likes to play games like these sometimes, just to see how serious his customers are. He calls it testing your character, but I figure he just likes to tease people."
"That's… uhh…" Harry stared back and forth between the master forger and his daughter, unable to find the right words.
Heinrich finally laughed as he drank his tea, not sipping it slowly like the British usually did, but taking large gulps of the liquid as he smiled heartily. "Do not worry, Harry. Ten thousand galleons is fine. How quickly do you need the documents?"
"Well… as soon as you can get them done, I suppose." Harry shrugged. "I don't know when exactly I'll need them, but I'd rather have them sooner rather than later."
Heinrich nodded thoughtfully. "The Muggle documents will be easy enough, but the wizard ones… I need to send a message to a friend of mine in Australia. Especially the apparition license might take some time. The Ministry is very thorough in checking and registering those."
"Father, could we not use the one you have prepared for the client that never came?" Sabine glanced up from her own cup of tea. "You remember, last year, when this strange man ordered a fake apparition license from Belgium, but he never came to pick it up. The document is already drawn up, except for the name, and all it needs is the official seal."
"True. The details are a bit different, but it can work. Let me go find it." Heinrich got up and left, leaving Harry in the company of his daughter. Sabine smiled and pulled out a notepad and pen.
"So, we're going to need some details for the documentation you wanted. Let's start with the birth certificate… name and date of birth?"
Harry thought for a moment. "Harry Evans Ashworth. Born December 15th, nineteen-fifty-five."
Sabine dutifully noted everything down. "That would make you twenty." She glanced up. "You're my age," she added with a small smile.
Harry shrugged. It was his real age, but it didn't really bother him giving that away. "Born in… Port Augusta, Australia." It was the best he could come up with, and he mentally thanked Mrs. Graham, his third grade geography teacher-and Dudley's dislike for textbooks.
"All right… moving on to your passport. Married? Single? Divorced?"
"Single."
Sabine nodded as she wrote it down. "Place of residence?"
Harry had to think about that for a moment. He didn't want to imply that he had lived in Australia all his life, and he had to explain his British accent somehow. Finally, he settled on one explanation. "As of nineteen-seventy-two, 201 West Lakeside Road, Boston, Massachusetts, United States of America."
Sabine arched a curious eyebrow. "A well-traveled young man, I see," she commented lightly.
"As it were," Harry shrugged. "What else did you need?"
"A list of countries and the dates that you were there. So we can fill up the passport appropriately."
"All right… Napier, New Zealand, September 3rd, nineteen-fifty-six, left December 19th, same year," Harry began to invent, mentally making a note to study his passport later on and invent places of residence for each of the foreign excursions. "Then… Osaka, Japan, February 4th, nineteen-sixty-one, through June 22nd, nineteen-sixty-two. Hamburg, Germany, August 6th, nineteen-sixty-two through October 2nd, nineteen-sixty-three."
And the list continued as Harry's imagination filled it with the travels of his fake parents and himself. Croatia, Greece, Italy, even Russia followed the initial entries, eventually stopping in the United States, but he always took care to avoid being somewhere close to the British Isles. When he was done, Sabine looked up from the half-dozen entries she'd made, and grinned. "That's one hell of an elaborate history you have there, Harry."
"Yeah… I surprise myself, sometimes," he chuckled. It would be hell to memorize all that, but at least now he could claim as an excuse that he'd traveled a lot. "Was there anything else you needed?"
"Well… there are your official school records and the equivalent of the OWLs and such. Graduation records, too."
Harry groaned. "It's going to be a long day, isn't it?"
"Would you like more tea?" Sabine smiled.
"Please tell me that's it?"
She shook her head, her long red tresses flying around her. "Nope. Then we have to take care of your medical history. Establish your places of residence, and…"
He smiled wryly. "You're very thorough, aren't you?"
"We're the best," she replied with pride. "But if you'd like some help in making up your history, I'm told I have an excellent imagination," she told him with a sly grin.
Harry thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "What the heck, it can't hurt. So, what do you recommend for school records? You're the expert, after all."
"Well… you don't want to be a straight-A student, that usually sends up red flags," she started…
Four hours later, Harry drained the last of his tea from his cup. Between him and Sabine, they had managed to come up with a basic history for him that would satisfy most inquiries. Her father had come back briefly, to pick up her notes so he could start working on the documents for which they had complete information.
He now had a history of being a moderate student - mainly attributed to his constant moving as a child, along with his family - established which schools he'd gone to, a brief medical history in which he'd managed to cram all of his actual ailments and injuries, not to mention his allergies, and eyeglass prescription. Sabine had advised that he could consider eye surgery, or the magical equivalent, if he wanted to lose the glasses. He considered it and filed it away for future reference.
"That's it, I think," Sabine announced as she laid down her pen. Strewn about her in what looked like utter chaos to Harry, but was somehow completely discernible to her, were forty pages filled with notes on the history they'd established so far.
"Good," Harry muttered. "I think I'm starting to confuse myself."