CHAPTER FIFTEEN

An Herb all Blue

Friday 1 – Wednesday 13 November 1991

Budapest, Oradea and Czíksdzereda, in Wizarding Hungary; Bucharest, Curtea de Arges and Poienari Castle, in Wizarding Romania.

Then round the meadow did she walk, Catching each flower by the stalk, Such flowers as in the meadow grew, The Dead Man's Thumb, an herb all blue…

– Robert Johnson (1560-1634): “As I Walked Forth”

Rated PG for violence.

Remus was too angry to care much about the Statute of Secrecy. He allowed the Muggles to load him onto the train back to Budapest, then took one son in each arm, marched into the toilets, and Apparated back to Oradea Station.

He was too late.

Plenty of people were boarding and alighting from trains – so many that they didn’t even notice his sudden appearance out of nowhere – but Ariadne and Elizabeth were no longer in the station-house. The Muggles had already taken them off somewhere.

“When are we going to see Mummy again?” asked Matthew. “I’m want her to be on the train with us.”

“She’ll be with us soon,” said Remus, trying to sound convincing. He had no idea where to begin looking for Ariadne, and she presumably wouldn’t know where to look for him – even if, despite her weak charm-work, she managed to escape the Muggles. Neither of them spoke the language; their tickets to Oradea had cost them the last of their money; and it seemed they had lost their Wolfsbane supplies, which were their whole reason for being here at all.

He didn’t know how Hungarian wizards set about dealing with awkward Muggles, but the obvious place to ask was at the Mágiaügyi Minisztérium in Budapest, so he gathered his strength and Apparated back there.

The Minisztérium was just closing, but Remus caught the Beérkezési Miniszter on his way out.

Entschuldigung, ich habe ein Problem…” began Remus helplessly.

A Minisztérium zárva van.

Wir haben aber doch ein Problem!” protested Matthew.

A Minisztérium – ” repeated the Beérkezési Miniszter, then broke off. “Ez a gyerek büdös! Why came you back? We telled you that we cannot help with your problem.”

“This is a new problem,” said Remus. “The Muggles have arrested my wife.”

“And? You are a wizard. You can manage a few Muggle.”

Remus was close to losing patience. “There is an International Statute of Secrecy. Because I obeyed that law, I didn’t see where the Muggles took my wife. And even if I do find out, I might not be able to rescue her without breaking the Statute. What is the procedure in Hungary when this kind of thing happens?”

When the Beérkezési Miniszter continued to look gormless, Remus reminded him, “Your Minisztérium welcomed our family to Hungary. You advised us to change our plans, but you didn’t order us to leave your country, and we thought we were still welcome here. You knew we were strangers, but you didn’t give any warning that the Muggles would be hostile. Now that they have arrested my wife and daughter, will you please tell me how Hungarian wizards usually proceed under these circumstances?”

Remus knew he had raised his voice, but the Beérkezési Miniszter could shout more loudly still, and soon Remus found himself surrounded by a crowd of red-and-white striped uniforms. There was a buzz of incomprehensible chatter (which gave Remus time to reflect that Professor Binns had misinformed him – it was not true that Hungarians conducted their official affairs in Latin), David made it volubly clear that he wanted his mother, and finally someone reached a conclusion.

“The Minisztérium is closed,” said a uniform who spoke decent English, “but Hungarians are always hospitable to distressed travellers. I am the Kviddics Miniszterhelyettes. Sit down, show me your papers, and tell me what happened.”

As he handed over their papers, Remus took the trouble to notice that the uniform belonged to a mature-aged woman with kindly dark eyes. “We took the Muggle train to Oradea,” he said, “and the Muggle official who inspected our passports said our visas were wrong. He searched my wife’s bag, and he thought her potion supplies were illegal drugs. I don’t know where they took her, but he sent me back to Budapest.”

The Miniszterhelyettes frowned at his passport. “You had this visa, yet you took a Muggle train to Nagyvárad. …rtem. The Beérkezési Miniszter did not know that you were planning to live like a Muggle. If you had told him, he would have warned you of the danger. Seventy years ago, the Muggle politicians ended one of their wars by slicing off half of Hungary, and they now consider Transylvania to belong to Romania. If you knew that Nagyvárad is renamed Oradea, why did you not understand that you were entering Muggle Romania and would need a different visa?”

Remus felt too ignorant to begin an answer to this question. He realised now that he had never read the word “Oradea” in any wizarding atlas; he supposed Ariadne must have found it on one of those topographical maps that show no political boundaries. Yet, through all his stupidity, he felt dimly cheated. The Lényfelügyeleti Miniszter had tried to halt their magical mission, and he had given them no magical assistance, yet he had told them to “enjoy Hungary”. Hadn’t he worked out that if he was sending them to mingle with Muggles, they would need to know the Muggle rules? Or had the man been prejudiced against them because they had mentioned werewolves?

The Kviddics Miniszterhelyettes apparently did not know that Remus had come to stir up trouble among dangerous beasts. She said only, “We can help you with the Muggles.”

After that, the Hungarians were very helpful. They apologised most profusely that a British guest to Budapest had not been warned about this simple matter of Muggle politicians. They brought a thick beef and potato soup for Remus and Matthew, and a bottle of artificial milk and a bucket of Cloacina Solution for David. They stamped their passports with visas to Romania, and also to Albania, Bulgaria, Croatia, Czechoslovakia, Greece, Macedonia, Slovenia, The Ukraine and Yugoslavia, just in case Remus changed his mind about where he wanted to go. They made them a sheaf of Muggle train tickets, complete with re-charmable dates, for every railway system in Eastern Europe. They lent him an owl so that he could write to Ariadne, cheerfully informing him that if she were still in Oradea, it would take the owl about six hours to find her, and another six to bring back any reply. They even admitted that the Minisztérium – officially closed all night – had a few rooms with hot showers and blanketed beds, so that Remus and his sons could spend the night as Minisztérium guests.

But they also warned him that Transylvania was a “wild” place. Not only were the Muggles addicted to their insane politics of Romanisation, but most of the wizards were quite mad. It had proved impossible to enforce the Statute of Secrecy in rural Transylvania, with the result that “dangerous situations” were always erupting and spilling over to the cities. If Remus remained determined to spend his holiday in Transylvania, he should be aware that the Minisztérium might not be able to help him with the “wild perils” that awaited him there. Significantly, however, no-one was willing to give precise details of exactly what kind of “perils” these were.

“You should bring your wife back to Budapest,” was all the Miniszterhelyettes would tell him. “Visit the museums and theatres. She will have more fun here.”

* * * * * * *

Dearest,

We are at a Muggle house, Strada Refugiului, nr. 33, Bl. L12, Ap. 7, Oradea (also known as Menekültek ut. 33-12-7, Nagyvárad), and we are among friends. But our friends will not be safe here for long.

A & E

Ariadne’s owl arrived at about six in the morning. Remus had to wait until nine, when the Beérkezési Miniszter set a Portkey to transport them to the address in Oradea. They landed in a Muggle living room, where a group of Muggles was looking harassed. Evidently they were in the middle of some very complicated situation, for they seemed quite unfazed by the sudden appearance of three strangers in the middle of their house.

Ariadne seized David with indecent desperation, and explained as she fed him about her adventures among the Muggles. “Their policemen have already been here twice to look for Reményke,” she finished. “I sent them away on a Confundus Charm, but that’s not a good long-term solution.”

Remus’s spirits lifted – here was a situation where he could help. “Reményke could go to Hungary,” he suggested.

“I’m in Hungary,” Reményke reminded him resentfully.

“I mean, you could go to Budapest,” Remus corrected himself. “Pack your luggage, while I make you a passport.”

He spent the next hour forging a British passport for Reményke (she would have preferred a Hungarian one, but he had no prototype from which to work) and copying visas into it. He copied visas into Ariadne’s and Elizabeth’s passports too. Ariadne had to deal with the Muggle policemen again while he was working, but they were gone by the time the passports were finished.

“Put it in your pocket,” he instructed, “and hold your suitcase in one hand. With the other, take this – ” he indicated the Minisztérium Portkey, “ – and it will take you to the Mágiaügyi Minisztérium in Budapest. If you explain your situation, they will help you.”

“If magic is real,” said Reményke, “why do wizards not use it to overthrow the Romanian tyrants and restore Transylvania?”

The question reminded Remus that the Minisztérium employees would not be particularly glad to see Reményke; wizards were not supposed to use magic to solve Muggle problems. He assumed that all they would do would be to wipe Reményke’s memory and send her on her way (she would probably think of something to do in Budapest), but they would certainly record an official minute of annoyance against Remus Lupin.

If they ever did run into trouble in Transylvania, they could certainly not appeal to the Mágiaügyi Minisztérium.

* * * * * * *

Remus thanked Reményke’s parents for looking after his family, and for the bag of food that they pressed on Ariadne in gratitude for rescuing their daughter, then wiped their memories of the past twelve hours a second before they closed their front door on him. The Lupins escorted Crina back to Oradea Station – throwing Distraction Charms at any Muggles who might be looking their way – and settled her onto a train to Harghita with one of the Minisztérium’s forged tickets.

“If Harghita is where the werewolves are,” Remus said to Ariadne, “why aren’t we going with her?”

“We’re needing to go to Romania first,” said Ariadne. “I’m not knowing where, exactly… we should maybe start from Bucharest. Remus, do you know anything about Vlad the Impaler?”

Remus was fairly sure he had read this name in a Muggle history book. “Wasn’t he Count of Wallachia in the fifteenth century? Known in his own language as ‘Vlad Tepes’.”

Ariadne frowned in concentration. “Tepes? We once had a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher called Sangera Tepes. She was Romanian… that’s right, she said her home was in Arges. Was that perhaps where this Vlad Tepes lived?”

“Perhaps. It shouldn’t be difficult to find out.… Tell me, how did this particular Defence teacher lose the post?”

“She attacked a student. The school gossip claimed she was a vampire.”

Suddenly Remus remembered who Vlad the Impaler had been. In Vlad’s own lifetime – and in Professor Binns’ classes – he had been known as Dracula.

They took the overnight train from Oradea to Bucharest.

“It’s always trains,” said Matthew. “When can we take a bus?”

“We don’t have tickets for a bus,” said Remus. He hadn’t told Ariadne that his collection of rail tickets was a magical forgery because he knew she would refuse to travel on the Muggle trains if she realised that the Muggles hadn’t been paid.

“Why can’t you make a bus ticket? You made a passport for Reményke.”

Before Remus had time to point out that he couldn’t forge a ticket without a genuine original to copy, Ariadne swiftly interrupted, “But, Matthew, that would be stealing.”

“I’m want to be stealing. So we can ride a bus.”

“Train,” said Elizabeth quietly.

They took another Muggle train to Curtea de Arges.

“Her mother was a Muggle,” said Ariadne dubiously, “so they might be in the telephone directory.”

Not knowing how else to proceed, Remus walked into a Muggle telephone box, opened the directory, and looked up the name Tepes. It appeared there were five Tepes families in the area, none owning to the initial S, but Remus wrote down all the addresses. He also took a Zerocso of a local map that appeared on the wall of the booth.

The first door they tried revealed kindly people who didn’t speak a word of English.

“People here understand French,” objected Matthew. “I heard them on the train.” At the second door, he took charge. “Excusez-moi, nous cherchons une dame.” Communication apparently occurred, because he reported, “This is the wrong house. This lady is your friend’s auntie. She says Sangera lives in Strada Coltului.”

It wasn’t one of the addresses that Remus had listed, but Matthew apparently understood the direction, and ten minutes later Sangera Tepes was opening her door to them. Her dark eyes were startling in her pale face, but she wasn’t as colourless – or as old – as Ariadne had led him to believe.

“Professor…” began Ariadne.

The white-faced woman glared sharply at them. “You’re an old student from Hogwarts, aren’t you? Something MacDougal.”

“That’s right; I’m Ariadne MacDougal. May we come in?”

Professor Tepes indicated her acquiescence by opening the door a little wider. “Wanting to know about Dracula, yes? That’s what British tourists are always wanting. Five of my old students have already come to visit, and all they were wanting to know was the way to Drrracula’s Castle.”

Remus was relieved to realise they had solved their language problem; Professor Tepes had once spoken English well enough to teach at Hogwarts, and any deterioration in her fluency was negligible.

“You’re looking very well, Professor,” said Ariadne.

“Can call me Sangera. The reason I’m feeling well is that here in Arges I have the corrrrect medication for my – ah – condition. Your Professor Slughorn tried hard with the blood-replenishing solutions, but they don’t work properly unless you’re stirring in powdered chamois horn. Sluggy had to substitute angorrra, and it wasn’t the same. I wouldn’t have finished in trouble for nearly biting a student if Sluggy had had access to chamois. Sit down. You’ve produced a family since we last met, Ariadne. So what are you wanting to know about Drrracula?”

Haltingly, Ariadne explained that she was an apothecary who needed to know about Dracula’s alleged botanical interests, and described the properties of the flower she could not name.

“Suppose you’re meaning the lupluna,” said Sangera Tepes, sounding bored. “It’s said to be extinct; that’s why people outside Rrromania haven’t heard of it. But you’re right, if any are left, they are in Drrracula’s Castle. Yes, I’ll take you there. Tomorrow.”

* * * * * * *

Remus was surprised how visible the castle was. Perched at the apex of the cliff, with towers pointing to the sky, Dracula’s stronghold was not only open to Muggle tourists, but a staircase had been built to invite access. Although the castle was in ruins, the Romanian wizards had not cared either to repair the crumbled walls or to keep the Muggles away. Did this mean that there was nothing of importance to be found there?

“Will we climb up to the top?” asked Matthew.

Remus supposed they must. The steps were white with morning frost, so they climbed carefully, counting the steps as they went. They counted to one thousand, four hundred and twenty-five before they reached the top.

“We can see the whole world!” Matthew shouted.

Sangera Tepes surveyed the vast frosted forests with silent disdain. Even armed with the information that she did not require human blood, Remus didn’t feel comfortable in her presence. Was this, he wondered, how ordinary people felt about him?

Ariadne looked slightly sick from her glimpse of “the whole world,” and was backing away from the edge. She had never been a good flier, and he supposed she must find her view of a hundred-fathom drop unnerving. He held out his free arm to steady her before he realised that she wasn’t looking at the live map of Romania that spread out before their feet. Her eyes were fixed sadly on the red-brick towers that punctuated the rugged red-brick keep.

They had come to look for a flower. And it was clear that nothing at all grew here.

Remus opened his mouth to say that it had been worth coming just for the view, when Sangera moved off towards the opposite tower. While she still wasn’t displaying any obvious enthusiasm for their project, she apparently remembered why they had come.

“Probably find it this way, if it’s here at all.”

Matthew raced after her. “Does Jackuler still live here, Daddy? Will he suck our blood out if he catches us?”

“Dracula’s been dead for…” began Ariadne, then trailed off. Sangera had stepped onto a wooden bridge that apparently led away from the castle, off into the mountains.

“Could it be… hidden?” she was asking.

Remus doubted it. There was nothing obvious on the other side of the bridge, just more of the mountain-side, and there was certainly no sign of any kind of magical barrier. The best that could be said was that the bridge seemed sound enough not to splinter under Sangera’s weight. He picked up Elizabeth and followed her across, while Ariadne and the boys brought up the rear.

The other side opened onto a forest clearing that was overgrown with all kinds of herbs. If this were Dracula’s private garden, if it were hiding anything of importance, wouldn’t someone, magical or Muggle, have made some kind of effort to hide it better?

“The plants are probably taking care of themselves,” said Sangera cryptically, then closed her mouth with a snap. The plants were certainly growing well.

Remus did not recognise most of the plants, but he suspected they were Romanian rather than rare. He could identify tarragon and dill, and Ariadne pointed out alihotsy and gurdyroot. Two more steps… then suddenly Ariadne swept down to her knees.

They had almost overlooked a patch of wildflowers sprouting from the mud near a small pond.

The petals were a flaming orange, with ugly, protuberant black spots. The leaves were almost blue, as stiff with prickles as thistles.

“This is probably the lupluna,” said Sangera. “It’s smaller than I was imagining.”

Ariadne looked at Remus, and Remus looked at Ariadne.

It was the moment of truth. Would they steal the flower? If not, whose permission should they ask? If that question could not be answered, from whom were they stealing?

“Flower,” said Elizabeth. She reached out her chubby fist and, before they could stop her, she yanked at the stalk. “Ooowww… www!”

Ariadne tried to uncurl Elizabeth’s fingers, but they were stuck to the bristling stalk. And the plant was not moving out of the soft mud, but was rooted like iron.

“Prrrotects itself,” repeated Sangera Tepes. She reached out her hand and pulled up an easy fistful without looking at her booty. “See. Only a vampire can pluck them. And most vampires are living in Transylvania, while the only surviving samples of lupluna are here in Romania. So Drrracula had complete control of who would become a werewolf. Probably had other ways of controlling whom the werewolfs were allowed to bite afterwards.” She removed the lupluna from Elizabeth’s hand with surprising gentleness, then tugged at a bunch of thyme. It clung stubbornly to the ground. “That won’t move. I think all the dinner-herbs were enchanted to yield only to Drrracula’s cook.”

She held out the lupluna to Ariadne, who was too busy comforting Elizabeth to take much notice, and then to Remus.

Gingerly, he took it.

This grotesque little flower, no larger than a pansy, was apparently the first cause of all his problems. The first werewolf had been made, not by a wizard’s curse, nor by a pact with the Devil, but through the eating of this unremarkable flower.

Ariadne had said that the flower was only dangerous under the full moon, when its orange petals became a shining bluish-white. She believed that if she could analyse the changes in its chemical composition at that time, she might be able to calculate an antidote. Whatever proved to be the opposite of the lupluna flower would probably be the formula that cured lycanthropy.

But how were they to analyse any plant while they were out in the wilds of Romania, without having so much as a cauldron in their possession?

“Should we send some back to Britain?” he asked.

“A cutting would not survive the journey,” said Ariadne. “I’m needing to keep them alive.”

“I can re-pot some for you,” said Sangera. “An eagle owl can carry a dozen six-inch pots to London in twenty-four hours. Ask a friend with a grrreenhouse to take care of them until you return. Probably that friend must be a vampire if you’re hoping to grow large quantities.”

They didn’t know any British vampires, but, fortunately, Ariadne did not insist on trying to begin the work immediately and on the spot. She agreed to send the samples to her cousin, Mercy Wiggleswade, who had recently qualified as a Healer at St Mungo’s. While Mercy wasn’t trained to analyse a plant’s chemical constitution herself, she probably knew someone who was and she was certainly competent in basic herbological routines.

* * * * * * *

Sangera Tepes, whom Ariadne remembered as lethargic and uninterested in anything, owled twelve pots of lupluna to St Mungo’s before escorting the Lupins through the Floo to the Ministerul Magiei. There she patiently played translator while explaining their affairs to the Romanian officials.

“They are saying there are no werewolfs in Romania,” was her conclusion. “The Communists killed all who did not escape to Trrransylvania.” (Ariadne later remarked that she did not think it was the Communists who had killed the werewolves – after all, those people had been Muggles.) “They are thinking it very odd that British tourists are wanting to spend winter in Székelyföld, and are hoping you are understanding how cold it is up in the mountains. But are willing to do you a Portkey to Czíkszereda, where the wizarding community is big and friendly.” (Ariadne later confided that she felt this to be a very loose translation; the original conversation had almost certainly involved Sangera Tepes agreeing to pay for the International Portkey.)

But they couldn’t return to Britain; the Mágiaügyi Minisztérium had no sympathy for their werewolf mission; the Romanian Muggle police considered Ariadne a criminal; and they had no money. A fast passage to a provincial town in the heart of Transylvania was their only real option.

“Nice to see you again,” said Professor Tepes, still without smiling, as they grasped the Portkey

Remus found the lack of warmth or interest in her expression disconcerting; he had to remind himself that she had been extremely supportive in her actions.

The Portkey brought them to a row of a dozen white shops with triangular red roofs in a cobbled back-street. Remus identified a robe-shop, a bakery and a magical equipment supplier before Ariadne pushed on another door and led them into the apothecarium. It was comforting to see that, even in Transylvania, apothecaries wore the international rust-red uniform.

Unsure how to greet the elderly wizard who was decanting some bubbling green potion behind the counter, Remus began with an uncertain, “Salve.

Bonjour. Grüss Gott. Jó reggelt. Buna. Good morning,” added Matthew for good measure.

The Transylvanian apothecary spoke Latin, rather better than Remus did, and he explained that they had arrived at the wizarding quarter of town. Remus wasn’t able to make him understand exactly what they were doing there, but when he showed Ariadne’s certificate of journeyship, their new friend smiled, and directed them to the wizarding inn, six doors down the street.

They were allowed to book a week’s accommodation with a view to paying later.

Remus found himself part-time work giving private English lessons to Muggles (and one wizard).

Ariadne found an evening job washing dishes at a Muggle café.

They exchanged their lei for Sickles in time for Ariadne to begin the month’s brewing. She asked the apothecary in Latin for atropine, barakol, digitalin, strychnine, sugar and yeast (he redirected her to the baker for the last two), but there was no wolfsbane to be had locally, so she had to write to her cousin Mercy to beg for a cutting from the St Mungo’s garden. Mercy sent an interesting reply.

Dear Ariadne,

Potted wolfsbane is enclosed. We are glad to hear that you’re finding useful work in Hungary, but you’re seeming terribly far away. We’re all missing you dreadfully here.

You are right to live abroad, however. The current climate of opinion is not at all friendly to werewolves – see the attached newspaper clipping.

Felicity’s baby was born at Hallowe’en. She is beautiful; they have named her Rosalba. I heard on the grapevine that Hazel Malfoy has had another one too. Dempster and I want to wait a few years, something that Felicity just will not understand!

Very much love,

Mercy.

The clipping was a front-page headline from the Daily Prophet, dated 24 October.

FUDGE FAMILY’S WEREWOLF HORROR

by Barnabas Cuffe

Cornelius Fudge, our Minister for Magic, was in a state of horrified shock yesterday as his nephew’s life hung in the balance.

Rufus Fudge, 20, was savagely attacked by a ferocious werewolf on Tuesday evening.

“Rufus just stepped out for a minute, to place the day’s kitchen scraps in the dustbin,” reports the white-faced Minister. “Of course he knew it was full moon, but you don’t expect to meet werewolves in the fashionable end of London. I suppose the beast pounced on him from behind.”

Rufus’s parents were too distressed to make any comment, but his uncle was furious. “My brother and his wife raced out with wands drawn, and they managed to Stun the monster before calling the Mediwizards. By the time the Aurors arrived, however, the werewolf had revived and run off. So the brute has escaped justice.”

Auror Gawain Robards comments, “This crime looks like the work of Fenrir Greyback. But Greyback usually targets children, so we are stumped.”

Further anguish awaited the Fudges at St Mungo’s, where the Healer-in-Charge of the Dangerous Bites ward was mysteriously absent. Abandoned to the care of second-rate staff, courageous Rufus battled unaided against the Grim Reaper.

He regained consciousness at three o’clock in the afternoon and asked for a breakfast of bacon and mushrooms.

Originally born into a life of opportunity and privilege, Rufus Fudge now faces a nightmare future as a social outcast and werewolf.

A/N 1. Continued thanks to my wonderful multi-lingual betas. St. Row-a-Check has now written an entire history of magic in Hungary, complete with a very cool Magyar wizarding school – do ask her about it. And Ana Christina must be a world expert on how the parallels between the Romanian language and the Scottish accent are related to the parallel oppressions of the Dacians and the Celts, and on why the correct understanding of this subject can only be possessed by a vampire. You never know how erudite your friends are until you start asking them the right questions.

A/N 2. Thanks also to my husband, Peter, whose suggestion about Rufus’s accident has greatly strengthened the plot. Rufus Fudge is a canon character. You can read about his canon appearance at http://www.hp-lexicon.org/about/sources/source_dp.html#feb-8, an incident that I perceive as occurring about eighteen months before his encounter with Greyback.

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