Over the Lea

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Over the Lea

Saturday 27 July – Friday 1 November 1991

All over Germany, including Altwolfach and Bad Herrenalb in the Black Forest; Freiburg, Leipzig, Cologne, Frankfurt, Munich and Hanover; and the Zaubereiministerium, Berlin. Also the Mágiaügyi Minisztérium, Budapest, Hungary, and from Budapest to Oradea.

There chanced to be a Pedlar bold,

A Pedlar bold there chanced to be;

He put his pack all on his back,

And so merrily trudged over the lea.

"O Pedlar, Pedlar, what is in thy pack?

Come speedily and tell to me."

"I've several suits of the gay green silks,

And silken bowstrings by two or three."

"If you have several suits of the gay green silk,

And silken bowstrings two or three,

Then, by my body," cries little John,

"One half of your pack shall belong to me."

– English Ballad: "The Bold Pedlar and Robin Hood"

Rated PG for the (false) accusation of a truly terrible crime.

The advancing werewolf scowled again. He asked Remus a question, then shouted something about "ein Engländer" to his companions and tried again in English.

"Who has bited you?"

"Fenrir Greyback."

"I know dis Fenrir not. Is he English? Vy are you in Chermany?"

"I have a potion... medicine... for werewolves. It makes my life better. I have come to ask if German werewolves would like to try it."

The dishevelled wizard did not relax his scowl. Remus saw that he had a skull tattooed on his hairy arm. "Stops de meditsin to turn a man to a volf?"

"No, not exactly. It stops the transforming of the mind..." He wasn't explaining this well; the tattooed German probably couldn't understand him. But he didn't know how to make it any clearer so he pressed on. "Of the thoughts. Your body is a wolf but your mind can think like a human."

A dozen German werewolves were now surrounding him, and none of them seemed at all impressed by his description, even assuming they understood enough English to grasp any of his story.

The tattooed one stabbed his thumb to his chest. "I am Peter Stubbe." This was presumably an announcement that he was in charge around here. "Sent you to us the Zaubereiministerium?"

"No, I came with my wife, who makes the medicine. The Zaubereiministerium would not help her."

This was his first statement that seemed acceptable to his new companions. Up until now, they had been wary, leaving all the talking to Peter Stubbe. Now a young woman with yin-yang earrings snorted and informed him, "The Ministerium is never helping any vairvolf. Never!"

Remus felt that her English might be better than Herr Stubbe's, so he addressed her directly. "If the Zaubereiministerium throws an idea away, perhaps it's a good idea. The British Ministry doesn't want to help werewolves either. But British werewolves like this medicine. So do the French."

The yin-yang girl said something in German; Remus hoped it was a translation. Peter Stubbe was still scowling, but he didn't try to interrupt.

"If you would like to try the medicine too..." Remus continued helplessly. "Are there any other werewolves in Germany? Is there any other wizard in Germany who is friendly to werewolves? How do I meet your friends?"

Finally Peter Stubbe relaxed his suspicion, but it was the yin-yang girl who replied.

"Only von who is not vairvolf listens to a idea to help a vairvolf. Only von who is not vorking at the Ministerium can sometimes make the Ministers listen to him. If you vant to improve Chermany, ve must take you to Johann Weyer."

* * * * * * *

Johann Weyer lived on the outskirts of Freiburg in a red-plastered half-timbered cottage so gabled and shuttered and shingled that Remus decided that it was probably here – and not in Bad Herrenalb – that Hansel and Gretel had strayed into the hag's clutches. Johann Weyer himself was dressed in rose-pink robes decorated with blood-red hammers and sickles, and his shoulder-length hair was also dyed pink.

"Velcome!" he said. "I shpeak Englisch very good and I can help you. Look!" He waved at his sitting-room walls, which were covered with posters of giants, goblins, house-elves and vampires and slogans in both German and Latin. "I vant to help vervolfs, and you vant to help dem too. So ve can vork togedder, yes? Vat is your plan?"

Haltingly, Remus explained about the Wolfsbane Potion.

Johann Weyer shook his head. "Your vife made big mistake. She vent to de Zaubereiministerium, and nobody dere helps outlanders. She should haf come first to me, and I can have helped her good. Listen, Remus. Tell your clever vife to make dis medicine. I vill tell all the vervolfs to come to my house and trink it. I vill also find apotakes to vatch and write reports. Ve vill write everything dat ve see and hear so ve have factual evidence and many vitnesses from inside Chermany. Denn ve vill take it all back to de Zaubereiministerium, and de Ministers vill make new laws for vervolf rights."

It sounded too simple. "Will the Ministerium listen to you?" asked Remus.

Johann Weyer tossed his pink hair. "Venn I vas a young man, it did not alvays listen. I told de Ministers dat house-elfs should be paid... dat chy-ants should be educated... dat ve should be friendlier to goblins... dat ve should be more respectful to tsentaurs... and de Ministerium laughed. But I am very smart to make people notice me. I can write owls all day long or make hundreds of people to march to de Ministry or let myself have interview in de newspaper or on de vireless. De Ministers qvick realised dat it is faster to listen to me immediate dan to send me avay. So now dey listen as soon as I say I vant to shpeak to dem. De Übersekretärin to de Innenminister, Waltraut Rechtspflege, is shpet-si-al good. She has made many new laws because of me."

Remus wondered what Johann Weyer had that Hippocrates Smethwyck had not.

"Of course, I never come to de Ministerium vis a bad idea," Johann reminded him. "Alvays good. Dat means, alvays vis de facts and figures. So ve cannot go today or even next veek. Your vife must test her new medicine for t'ree full moons. In August, September and October, she vill boil de potion, and de apotakes vill write reports. End October, ve vill go to visit Frau Minister Rechtspflege."

Before the day was over, Remus found that Johann Weyer had organised their lives more thoroughly than Sarah Webster ever did. The visas in their Muggle passports were magically modified to permit them an indefinite sojourn in Germany. The Muggle receptionist at their hotel presented Remus with a bill for three months' advance rental, which brought their funds to a painful low. Boxes of fresh wolfsbane and dried digitalin piled up in Johann Weyer's house – again, at Remus's expense – and half a dozen apothecaries from all over Germany arrived in Bad Herrenalb to shake Ariadne's hand and frown over the Wolfsbane Potion formula. Johann Weyer called them over to his house nearly every day so they could meet werewolves and explain the function of the potion, while Johann lounged across his sofa, dictating copious notes to a blood-red Quick Quotes Quill.

And so they lived for over three months.

Every werewolf in Germany was dosed with Wolfsbane Potion. Having transformed, every one was subjected to a battery of tests by the German apothecaries who had trekked out to Altwolfach to observe them. Every werewolf slept quietly through the August full moon without a single case of self-harm.

Remus found himself a part-time job teaching English in a Muggle adult education centre.

Ariadne balanced brewing Wolfsbane Potion and listening to the life-histories of werewolves with caring for their children.

Matthew learned to count to one thousand.

Elizabeth learned to talk in both English and German without understanding that she was speaking two languages.

David learned to sleep through the night.

The whole procedure was repeated in September. By October, it was clear that the potion worked, and the werewolves did not bother to congregate at Altwolfach. They dismantled their Muggle-repelling barrier and spent the night draped over the living quarters of the delighted Johann Weyer.

* * * * * * *

"It vill be brilliant!" promised Johann Weyer. "I vill tell clear everything to de Übersekretärin, and she vill make de Innenminister to grant a patent. I vill ask interview today. Come vis!" He threw Floo powder into the hearth and, with a whirl of his pink hair and a swirl of the green flames, dived into the Floo network.

It took Remus and Ariadne a little longer to hold their children steadily as they negotiated their way through the foreign network. In the grand foyer of the Zaubereiministerium, Johann Weyer was almost dancing a Schuhplattler as he tapped out his impatience.

"Dere you are, Remus! De Übersekretärin already says ve can go to her office immediate."

Johann was so confident; Remus did not dare meet Ariadne's eye. They both meekly followed the flowing pink robes across the hall and into a lift, listened to a polite voice instructing them in German and allowed Johann Weyer to instruct, "Fünfter!" The lift zoomed upwards, and by the time it stopped on the fifth floor, a witch in black and gold robes was waiting to meet them.

"Guten Tag, Herr Weyer. Worum geht es heute?"

Johann Weyer explained something in very rapid German, several times sweeping out his pink-swathed arm to indicate Remus and Ariadne.

The black-and-gold witch turned towards them. She had protuberant and penetrating blue eyes that stared through gold-framed spectacles. "I am Waltraut Rechtspflege, Senior Secretary to the Minister for Interior Affairs. Herr Weyer says that you are involved with his latest petition." Her English was very good. "He says you have a treatment for werewolves, a treatment that is legal in France but forbidden in Britain. Now, he says, it should be legal in Germany, and he has a petition from the German werewolves to request it. Tell me, Frau Magister Lupin: was this medicine ever described in a peer-reviewed journal?"

Ariadne brought out a copy of the article and handed it over.

Frau Minister Rechtspflege swept her eye over it. "It is remarkable," she commented, "that I never noticed this before."

"Remarkable," breathed Ariadne. She did not explain how the article had been ripped from every copy of the Western Journal of Apothecarism within hours of its publication.

"Herr Weyer, you know that I have work to do today. Take your friends to see the sights and return in two days. After I have read all the documents I shall have more to say."

As the lift swept back down to the foyer, Remus asked Johann, "Is this how Frau Minister Rechtspflege always dismisses you?"

"That was not dismissing," said Ariadne. "She really is going to examine the proposal."

Johann Weyer's idea of seeing the sights was to dash through the Floo network or leap onto the Zauberbus, shout the name of some destination, then race to the head of any queue that might be waiting for admission to the attraction and magically distract the Muggle clerk at the exact moment a ticket needed to be purchased. "Leipzig! Köln! Frankfurt! München! Come, ve are visiting next Hannover!"

Since Remus had three children and their baggage in his care, and since he felt obliged to underwrite Johann's entry tickets as well as pay for their own, he always found himself following at a slower pace. Once he nearly handed over a Galleon to a surprised curator; he began to worry that his small collection of marks would not last until their next visit to the Berlin branch of Gringotts.

Fortunately Johann took Waltraut Rechtspflege's timeline of two days literally. Exactly forty-eight hours after their first visit, they were back in the Zaubereiministerium, and Waltraut Rechtspflege was immediately ready to speak to them.

"Congratulations," she said. "It's a very clever discovery. I had to work hard for the last two days. First I spoke to your Herrn Magister Belby. He said the potion is harmless to werewolves but it is forbidden in Britain because of the dangers to the public. Then I spoke to the British Patents Office but I found there a new person, not the one who first refused the patent. He told me the same, that the potion is good but not safe for the public. Then I spoke to the Bureau des Brevets in France, and the Minister there told me that the potion is a success in France, where the werewolves are no danger to public safety because they are all contained in one village. Then I read the reports written by members of our Apothekervereinigung and I also spoke to them. They agree that they have seen our German werewolves be tamed by drinking the Wolfsbane Potion. They have also studied the formula, and they are confident that it should be effective and not poisonous when correctly taken."

She paused from the catalogue of her busy deeds, leaving Remus to wonder what the catch would be.

"Therefore I will recommend to the Innenminister that the Ministerium should grant a patent. A competent apothecary should supervise the distribution of Wolfsbane Potion in St Hildegard's Hospital every month. We should require the werewolves to accept the treatment and to spend the night of the full moon in the hospital. In Germany we cannot force werewolves to leave the forest to drink medicine, but if they deliberately refuse to do this much, we can hold them guilty of any crimes they commit. I think the Ministerium is likely to approve new werewolf legislation, and we can perhaps foresee the time when lycanthropy is no longer a social problem."

Ariadne was faintly frowning, so Remus knew that she didn't feel comfortable either. However, it was difficult to pinpoint exactly what was wrong with the Übersekretärin's proposition. Wasn't this exactly what they had hoped – and failed – to achieve in Britain?

"Where will you take Herrn Magister Belby's potion next?" she asked.

Remus opened his mouth to correct her assumption about Belby, but Johann Weyer was quicker.

"Swisser!" he exclaimed. "Italy! Poland! Czechia! Every place vere dere are verevolfs under oppressing!"

"Not Switzerland, then," corrected Frau Minister Rechtspflege. "There have been no werewolves in Switzerland for five hundred years. There are some in Italy, but I do not recommend that you waste your time there. If it is your desire to make a better life for werewolves all over the world, it will be best to go to the capital city of lycanthropy, where the problem began, where the werewolves are the greatest public danger and where the world's highest proportion of werewolves still lives. Go to Hungary."

Afterwards, Remus asked, "Frau Minister Rechtspflege was reasonable... wasn't she?"

"She was fair," conceded Ariadne, "but she was not kind."

"Why do you say that? Don't you wish Fudge had granted the same concession to British werewolves?"

"I am wishing it. Frau Minister Rechtspflege was better than Mr Fudge. But, Remus, she's more interested in public order than in the problems of real werewolves... or in any other problem that Johann Weyer might present. She's wanting to force werewolves to... well, to do exactly what they did voluntarily for Healer Smethwyck. Once the German law has changed, she can make it very difficult for any werewolf who fails to comply. Remus, I'm not knowing if we've really made it better for these people. Additional regulations and publicity and penalties will perhaps make it all worse."

"Sweetheart, you surely know by now that whenever one person does good in the world, some other person will find a way to abuse it. Fenrir Greyback would have abused Wolfsbane Potion by drinking it, and government officials might use it as an excuse to discriminate against werewolves. But I promise you, it's still a blessing to the ordinary werewolf in the street, and in the end you'll do the most good by taking the formula to as many of us as possible."

"So... are you wanting to go to Hungary?"

"We can't go back to Britain," he reminded her.

Ariadne packed their bags, while Remus settled their bills in Bad Herrenalb and exchanged their tiny pile of Galleons for forints. Waltraut Rechtspflege, perhaps glad to shunt Johann Weyer's latest protégés out of Germany, wrote letters of recommendation to the Mágiaügyi Minisztérium in Budapest. She arranged to have the original journal article and the reports of the French and German apothecaries translated into Hungarian. She had Hungarian visas stamped into their passports in case any Muggle officials were watching. She directed them to the Transportbüro, where their Portkey was set for the Érkezési Kiköto in Budapest.

* * * * * * *

They landed on a marble floor, facing a wall of trefoil arches. A voice behind them demanded, "Útleveleket, kérem!" As Remus turned to guess what was required next, Matthew asked, "Do these people have another different way of talking?"

The new voice belonged to an elderly wizard whose loose robes – red and white stripes with an elaborate green trim – were obviously some kind of uniform. He was holding out his hand, so Remus handed over their Portkey. The official waved a wand over it, seemed satisfied by a brief flash of blue light that it was deactivated, and placed it in a box full of similar items. Then he held out his hand again.

Not knowing what else to do, Remus handed over their papers.

The official shuffled through them until he found one in Hungarian, which he read. "Angolul," he commented. "You want the Lényfelügyeleti Miniszter. Ilonka will take you. Go!"

Ilonka was a young woman wearing an identical uniform. They followed her meekly through the trefoil arch, across a wide marble hall, into a lift, down three storeys, along a marble corridor and through another trefoil arch. She waved her red and white arm at another uniform sitting in the office beyond and then withdrew.

The new uniform – presumably the Lényfelügyeleti Miniszter – waved them onto a carved wooden bench to wait while he read their documents. He read with a furious frown. Ariadne stared at the floor, trying to play quietly with the babies; Remus knew she didn't dare say out loud whatever she was thinking.

Finally the Lényfelügyeleti Miniszter looked up. He spoke to them quite softly. "Welcome, I hope you will enjoy Hungary. Your friends write that you have medicine for werewolves. You have come, I think, to meet Hungarian werewolves and to help them. That is very admirable. But, alas, we cannot help you here, for you are fifty years too late. There are no more werewolves in Hungary."

Remus felt his stomach lurch. No werewolves? Waltraut Rechtspflege might be misinformed about a few details in foreign countries, but surely a minister in her position wouldn't be five decades out of date?

"There was disorder in the days of Grindelwald," the Lényfelügyeleti Miniszter explained. "Muggles were terrified, and many people were persecuted. Werewolves made a convenient... scapegoat among wizards. And so they were slaughtered. By the time of Grindelwald's defeat, every last werewolf in Hungary was slain."

"That is a tragedy," said Ariadne softly.

"It was a terrible thing. The death of Grindelwald brought no peace to the Muggles, for they have been suffering ever since. Even today, when the world has newly changed and life is better, the Muggles are insecure. It takes all the efforts of the Mágiaügyi Minisztérium to keep wizards safe and to improve life for the Muggles without being seen. It will be, I think, ten years before our country can return to normal function. Before that time, we shall have no spare energy to assist foreigners with their projects."

The Lényfelügyeleti Miniszter stood up. "So I am sorry that we cannot help you, kedves Lupinné. But enjoy your visit to Hungary."

Deflated, Remus began to walk away, although he had no idea where he would go. They were at the door of the lift before Ariadne spoke.

"He was lying."

"What?"

"What he said last – about having no spare energy for extra projects – was the truth. It was the reason he's wanting us to think there are no werewolves in Hungary. But he was lying about that."

"Yes – a lie," broke in a new voice.

The employee named Ilonka was waiting for them in the lift. She spoke in swift, low German as the lift sped upwards, and Matthew translated.

"The lady says her brother is a werewolf and there are lots of werewolves in Hungary. She says more than in any other country in the world. But they are not in Budapest because they were all sent away to Transylvania. If we're wanting to meet werewolves, that's where we have to go."

Outside the Mágiaügyi Minisztérium, a cool wind was blowing. "Can we Floo to Transylvania?" asked Ariadne.

"We can if we know the names of the grates," said Remus reasonably. "What is the major wizarding street for the province? For that matter, do you know the name of its capital city?"

She did not. "Budapest is on the River Danube," she began. "But provincial towns... Oh, this is daft. A tourist bureau – even a Muggle one – would be able to help us with basic information like that."

"It would if we spoke Hungarian – or even German. But I don't think ordinary Hungarian Muggles speak much English. If it comes to that, where do we want to go? Do you think the Transylvanian werewolves live in the middle of large Muggle cities?"

She stared back at him. They had no idea what they were doing.

"Sylvania." Matthew was tugging at Ariadne's arm. "I'm want to go to Transylvania."

"I suppose that is one idea," said Remus. "Board some public vehicle, ask to go to the province and hope the conductor will suggest a sensible destination." He held out his right arm.

Nothing happened.

Remus frowned. After all, there was a Magicobus in France and a Zauberbus in Germany. He held out his arm again, concentrating harder.

But he might as well have been a Muggle. It appeared that no vehicle equivalent to the Knight Bus operated in Hungary.

"There's maybe a Muggle bus that will take us to Transylvania," suggested Ariadne.

"More likely a train," said Remus.

"No! I'm want to ride a bus!" protested Matthew.

"Are we knowing the Hungarian word for a railway station?" asked Ariadne.

Fortunately, there were Hungarian Muggles who spoke at least as much German as Matthew did, and an hour later they had found their way to Keleti Railway Station. The diagrams of train routes were bewildering, but eventually Ariadne recognised the word "Oradea", which she was nearly certain was a city in Transylvania. While they waited in the ticket queue, she explained the family's plan carefully to Matthew, then lifted him up to the counter. Matthew, faithfully interpreting the situation in the way that made sense to him, waved a fistful of Hungarian bank notes and asked in German for five tickets to Oradea. The vendor replied in what might have been the same language.

"She says we have to come back tomorrow," Matthew reported. "If you're going to Oradea, you have to buy the ticket for tomorrow, never for today."

Apparently their booking was accepted for, on examining the pieces of cardboard that Matthew passed over for safekeeping, Remus discovered that they had paid for five full-fare first-class return tickets.

Matthew's explanation for his extravagant outlay was a rational, "We're a five family."

Remus couldn't begin to explain why the ticket-seller might have been persuaded to perceive the situation differently. Instead, he turned his mind to the next problem. "How do we ask in Hungarian – or even in German – for a hotel?"

Matthew looked scornful. "That's easy. 'Wir suchen ein Hotel.'"

Twenty-four hours later, they were on the train. Matthew bounced on the red plush seat and said, "This is nearly as good as a bus!" He stopped bouncing for long enough to listen the German tourists sitting opposite, then reported loudly, "Franz and Sabine don't like this train, Daddy. They say Hungarian trains aren't never comfortable because the chairs are too low and the lights don't work and the compartment isn't clean. Sabine just said she didn't like the wallpaper either."

Remus hoped the solid middle-aged couple, who were beaming benevolently at Matthew while they unpacked a bag of snacks, did not understand English. They seemed amused by the frank admiration with which Matthew stared at their collection of hams and cheeses.

He held out his hand and politely requested, "Geben Sie mir bitte ein Butterbrot."

Sabine laughed and asked Ariadne a question. After a second, she repeated herself in English. "Can I give your son a bread? He is a very polite little boy and also very clever. Can I give von your daughter too?"

Franz began to place slices of black sausage on pumpernickel bread and handed the first piece to Matthew, the second to Elizabeth and then – to Remus's embarrassment – a third to Ariadne. The morning snack for this well-fed German couple was a lush picnic that would have sustained the Lupin family for three days; Remus hoped these Muggles weren't assuming that they starved their children, for the sandwich bag could not have contained more food if it had been actually enchanted to produce an endless supply.

Matthew happily bounced and ate and was soon telling his new friends his life-story.

"He knows you're going to Transylvania," translated Sabine. "Do you think that you vill see vampires, young man?"

"No," said Matthew seriously. "We're going to visit werewolves. Vampires are bad because they bite you on purpose. But werewolves only have an animal-brain so they can't help it if they bite you, and you should feel sorry for them."

Franz chuckled, and said, "Your boy has a strong forpicturing. Or did you perhaps read him a story about a vervolf?"

Remus couldn't remember at what speed Muggle trains usually travelled, but this one did seem to be slow. After they had rattled through the plains for about five hours, the train wheezed to a halt, and a uniformed official marched into their carriage demanding, "Aratati-mi pasapoartele voastre!" Remus assumed he knew what this instruction meant, but in case other passengers were in doubt, the official clarified, "Útlevél-ellenörzés!"

Elizabeth chose this moment to screw up her face and prepare to bawl.

"She's feeling sick," said Ariadne. "I'll take her to the washroom. You have our documents, Remus, have you not?"

Remus began sorting through the pouch of their rucksack – actually Aunt Macmillan's suitcase, today Transfigured into a more portable shape – as Ariadne rose to her feet. It was the wrong moment, for she caught her balance on the swaying floor exactly as the official was advancing to face her. He pointed at her severely and commanded, "Arata-mi pasaportul tau."

Ariadne gestured to Remus as she explained, "My husband has our documents." But she was paying more attention to Elizabeth, who definitely needed to be taken out of the public compartment.

"Ha!" The official snapped to attention; he had decided which passenger's possessions were to be scrutinised today. "You – are you Eng-lish?"

"I am not," said Ariadne. "I'm..."

"Arata-mi pasaportul tau! Show passport, please!"

Remus handed over their faked Muggle passports, hoping he had forged the watermarks accurately.

The official compared the photographs, then pounced. "Ha! Liar! You are Eng-lish, Lady."

"I'm not English," repeated Ariadne, apparently unaware of why this was the wrong answer.

"Nu ai viza necesara pentru a intra în România!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "You – Lady Loopin – you have no visa!"

Remus tried to peer into the passport. He had put visas in; the wizards at the Zaubereiministerium had set a Protean Charm on a Muggle original, so the visa stamp was one detail that must be correct.

Elizabeth was sick all over Ariadne's shoulder.

Ignoring the mess, the official commanded, "Follow me."

Remus picked up David in one arm and the two rucksacks in the other and began to follow. Matthew bid a polite good bye to Franz and Sabine and trotted after them. The angry official led them off the train, across a courtyard and into the station-house. Remus still did not consider the possibility that they were really in trouble; after all, the man was a Muggle, so they could repair any difficulties with magic as soon as he was looking the other way. They could clean Ariadne's shoulder too.

"Give me bags." Remus handed them over, but the official, interested in Ariadne's "lie", did not look at him. "Is this your bag or your man's?"

"Mine."

"Open it."

Ariadne stooped to unlatch the clasp one-handed, then lifted the flap to display her tightly-packed jars and bottles.

The official grabbed one and poured the contents over the table. It was only barakol powder, but of course no Muggle, even a qualified chemist, would recognise it in its present state, compressed to one tenth of its original mass and frozen to preserve its freshness. Almost crowing with exultation, the official tried another box, and Remus realised how lucky they were that he didn't recognise this compressed white powder for what it was – the poison digitalin.

What was certain was that the official thought he understood the situation. With a delighted cry of, "Esti o traficanta de droguri!" – an accusation that Remus almost understood – he jabbed his finger at each of them.

"Esti arestata! You – Domnule – you go back to Budapest. You – Lady – you stay here!"

Two more officials had arrived behind them; one of these swept up Matthew, while the other hooked an arm around Remus's elbow. Remus was too frozen to the spot to register that he was supposed to move. He was almost dragged backwards through the station-house door while, with lurching heart, he saw that the first official was gripping Ariadne's arm and hustling her and Elizabeth forward through the opposite door, to the inner room of the station-house.

A/N. Let's be honest. I don't speak Hungarian. The words of the Magyars were written by St. Row-a-Check. And I don't speak Romanian either. All the Romanian parts were written by Ana Christina. It's rather embarrassing to admit that I used to speak German, because I don't any more, and I wouldn't have been able to write the German parts without CornedBee holding his red pen over my shoulder. I am so grateful to them all for taking time with my story and lending it this air of authenticity.