Withered Away

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Withered Away

Friday 1 November 1991

Oradea, Transylvania.

I've seen the forest

But now they are withered away.

– Catherine Cockburn: "Flowers of the Forest"

Rated PG for drugs, politics and possibly justifiable violence.

Ariadne came quietly, but Elizabeth did not. Worn out by travelling on an unsettled stomach, and frightened by the angry official, she howled, "Daddeeee! Daaaddeeee!" all the way into the interrogation room inside the station. What most bothered Ariadne, as she tried to soothe her distraught daughter, was that David was with Remus. If the Muggles were planning to spend a long time accusing her, the family might not be reunited before David needed to be fed.

The border official pointed to Ariadne's rucksack and accused, "You have drogs."

She supposed that was one way of stating the case. "Medicine," she agreed. It did not really matter what she said since she could not possibly state her real business to a Muggle. "Hush, darling, we'll see Daddy in a few minutes."

"You must bring no drogs in Romania!"

Romania? She began to have the first inkling of why he had fussed about her visa. Had she crossed a national border? She thought her atlas had shown Oradea in Hungary, but what if the border was not where she had assumed...?

"Look!" He thrust her passport under her nose. "You are British!"

"I am," she agreed, realising as she spoke that, "Are you English?" had probably meant, "Are you British?"

"You telled a lie, you have no visa, and you have drogs."

It really did not seem worthwhile to explain herself to such an angry Muggle, so she sat on the lone wooden bench and waited quietly. After a while, he became tired of repeating himself, and the interrogation petered out. Elizabeth was whimpering, and Ariadne wondered how much longer she would have to wait before she could clean up her reeking shoulder.

It was probably only ten minutes before two Muggles wearing blue coats and visored caps entered the room. They had no need to speak; one jerked his head at Ariadne, and she knew she was required to follow. She squashed the worrying thoughts that were beginning to demand her attention. Remus would not know where they were taking her so meeting up again would be difficult. It looked as if the border official intended to keep hold of her rucksack, which contained her complete inventory of herbs. And Elizabeth was needing to have her nappy changed.

The ideal time to give these Muggles the slip was now. But the two policemen were leading her through a busy street so there was no opportunity; and since it was not a life-threatening situation, she could not use magic in front of them. Her best bet was to lull them into assuming her compliance.

They took her across the road to a large and ugly building. It certainly was not one of Transylvania's architectural gems; it had the grimly unimaginative contours of a strictly utilitarian construction. It took a while for whoever was inside to undo a complicated system of locks and bolts; Ariadne could not help thinking how quickly those locks could be blasted with a Reducto charm. Eventually the policemen were able to hustle her through the doors into an unlit corridor and they explained something to another official who apparently worked there. She knew this place was some kind of detention centre, but only when a brutal-faced woman propelled them into a square room and locked the door did she realise it was actually a prison – not merely a place to await trial, but also a place for convicted Muggles to serve their sentences.

"Dezbraca-te!" ordered her new guard.

Not understanding the instruction, but sensing that this woman would never show any compassion because she had never received any, Ariadne smiled politely and cuddled Elizabeth, who was too tired to emit more than a whimper.

Angry at this misdirection of Ariadne's attention, the guard insisted, "Esti prea proasta ca sa întelegi Româna de baza? Da-mi fetita, si apoi dezbraca-te."

Her glare was directed so pointedly to the child that Ariadne could not misunderstand. They were going to separate her from Elizabeth. Once her daughter was out of her sight, she would not know where to start looking for her. Life-threatening or not, it was time to stop complying with these people and take action.

The guard stalked up to them and grabbed at Elizabeth with one hand and at Ariadne's robe with another.

Ariadne was quicker. As the cloth ripped and Elizabeth shrieked, Ariadne had her wand in her hand.

"Confundo!"

The Muggle woman staggered backwards, her eyes suddenly glazed and unfocused, and her face as relaxed as released elastic. Ariadne took advantage of her confusion to perform a Scourgify on her shoulder.

"You were going to show me the way out," she cajoled.

This ploy might have worked if the woman had understood English; like most people recovering from a Confundus Charm, she was clutching for any guidance the environment might offer. But the guard really did not understand a word of English; Ariadne's soft tones did not tell her what to do, but they reminded her that Ariadne was the person to whom she was supposed to be paying attention. She snapped into automatic gear and shunted Ariadne towards the door.

Ariadne considered using a second Confundus Charm and making a break for the front door, but the corridor was lined with guards, most of them large men. It would be wiser to wait until nobody was looking at her, even if that meant waiting until dark. So she allowed herself to be led through several passages and up the stairs and to watch while her captor brought out a huge bunch of keys and unlock one of several identical iron doors.

The woman shoved her forcefully into the tiny room; having recovered her wits, she was determined to assert her dominance.

"Iata o noua prizoniera," she announced. "Este o traficanta de droguri."

The door slammed shut and the locks clunked back into their usual position.

* * * * * * *

The cell was lit only by a high barred window – Ariadne estimated that it would be dark in about half an hour – and it stank of the chamber pot. It was about eight feet square and was furnished with a pair of narrow bunk beds and a rough wooden bench. An ageing prisoner, dressed in a peasant's headscarf and embroidered bodice over a billowing blouse, was sitting on the bench, while a younger woman wearing leather fashion-boots was lounging on the lower bunk. This woman pulled herself upwards to stare as Ariadne moved over to the bench. Elizabeth had finally fallen asleep; since nightfall would be the earliest time she could think about breaking out of this place, Ariadne gave her attention to her new companions.

"De ce te-au acuzat?" asked the woman on the bunk. "Chiar esti traficanta de droguri?"

The woman's smart boots and jacket suggested that she was educated enough to speak more than one language, so Ariadne tried to summon the meagre smattering of German that she had learned in the Black Forest. While she was thinking about it, the woman spoke again.

"Miért hoztak be? Tényleg kábítószerkereskedo vagy?"

It sounded like the same question in a different language. Neither language had been either French or German, but Ariadne had gathered her words.

"Entschuldigen. Ich habe nicht verstand." She knew this was not correct, but fortunately the stranger was willing to switch again.

"Sind Sie Deutschländerin?"

"Nein. Ich bin Schottin."

Another switch. "I speak English. I learned at school for ten years. Beside Romanian and German and French. I often had to read in foreign languages when I was at Bucharest University."

"That's a lot." Ariadne did not disguise her admiration, even though the woman was showing off. "Did you read for a degree in foreign languages?"

"No, I read history and politics. My name is Kurucz Reményke and this is Szántó Zsuzsanna."

Szántó Zsuzsanna winced, as if this introduction were somehow tactless, and spoke for the first time. "Ma cheama Crina Taranu cît timp stau aici."

"That's right, Zsuzsanna co-operates with the tyrants so that they would treat her better. She says she wants you to use her Romanian name – Crina – in front of the guards. But her real name is Zsuzsanna, and I am always Reményke."

"I am Ariadne Lupin, and this is Elizabeth." Ariadne was conscious that Crina could not understand much of their conversation, but she also knew that Reményke might be her only chance of learning about this place, so however rude it appeared, she had to keep her talking. "Why did you go to university in Romania? Are the standards there higher than in Hungary?"

"Of course not!" Reményke nearly spat. "Of course I would have liked to go to Budapest University! Everyone would! But it was too difficult to leave Romania. If you British people understand anything about Communist politics, you should know that Hungarian nationals were never allowed out of Romania – not until two years ago."

The picture began to slide into place. "Is this not Transylvania? Are we... in Romania?"

Reményke tossed her head contemptuously, and translated this question for Crina before replying to Ariadne. "Of course we are in Transylvania, which has been Hungarian ever since Hungary became a nation! During the Turkish oppression, Transylvania was Hungary. But obviously you have not studied modern history. For seventy years now Transylvania – Erdély – has been in the hands of the Romanian tyrants, and they want us to believe that only Romanians have ever lived here. You might think that the end of Communism would inspire the new regime to restore justice – to transfer Erdély back to Hungarian rule – but Stolojan is no better than his predecessors. He has no interest at all in the rights of ordinary Hungarians."

"So Transylvania is now in Romania..." That explained why her visa had been wrong. "But are you Hungarian, Reményke?"

"Of course. So is Crina, if you want to know. Mondd el neki, Zsuzsa. Te egy osi magyar családból származol, ugye?"

"Igen."

Obviously the Hungarian wizards would not be willing to restructure their Ministry, laws, school, Floo connections and language just because a group of Muggle politicians announced a border change that even some of them expected might not be permanent; it made sense that the Hungarian Ministry would keep hold of Transylvania, and that the Romanian Ministry would raise no objection. Now that Ariadne came to think of it, the British Muggles had, at roughly the same time, sliced off most of Ireland and now considered it a separate country, no longer part of their United Kingdom; although the Northern part of Ireland remained mysteriously British. Trying to grasp this sudden update of seventy years of Muggle history, she asked, "So is Transylvania legally Romanian... while its inhabitants are actually Hungarian?"

Reményke snorted. "It might have been so! We were seventy years ago. Since then, we have been deported to Wallachia... our villages have been bulldozed to the ground... the best land has been overrun by Vlachs... we've been sent to dig the mines and build the dam until we dropped dead from exhaustion... we've been murdered for no reason at all. Now President Stolojan can turn around and state accurately that most Erdélyi – Transylvanians – are Romanian so there is no reason for Transylvania to be separated from Romania. And when I published a clear statement of the history of Hungary – about the need for reparation for past wrongs – the state's debt to the surviving Hungarians... Well, that's why I'm here in prison."

Ariadne wondered what part of her story Reményke had omitted. Was the publishing of a written statement her only crime? However, this was not the moment to ask alienating questions. "So this Stolojan is not permitting freedom of speech in Romania."

"Not for Hungarians."

Ariadne looked at Crina Taranu, who did not look at all like a revolutionary, and wondered what she had done to annoy the Romanian Muggle government.

"Crina is accused of cheating on her tax," Reményke replied to her glance. "She didn't understand the new regulations so she answered a question wrongly, and the government decided to make an example of her. They might acquit her if she can convince them that she really didn't understand the question. Or they might not. Reméled, hogy nemsokára hazaengednek, ugye, Zsuzsa?"

Crina nodded, then remarked to Ariadne, "El fogják venni a gyermeked. Meg kell mondanod a családodnak, hogy vigyék haza, nehogy a kormány elvegye toled, mert akkor lehet, hogy nem is látod többé."

"She says that children are not allowed in prison," translated Reményke. "You're lucky that they did not take your baby away as soon as you arrived. But they will only need a few days to remember about her. Crina says you need to contact your family and have them take your little girl home before the government would steal her.... Of course, you might not even be here very long. You just need to contact the British government, and they'll bring you home even if you really bringed those drugs in."

Ariadne had no idea whether the British Muggle government acknowledged her existence, but she was fairly sure that the Ministry for Magic would not raise a wand for her. It was lucky that she was not depending on either body to rescue her. In fact, it was time to work out exactly how she was going to escape. The window opened onto an internal courtyard, so the only exit would be through the cell door. That meant betraying the Statute of Secrecy to Reményke and Crina; now she came to think it through, it actually meant she would be taking them with her. That was all right. Crina was certainly innocent, and Reményke was not guilty of anything worse than a mild breach of the peace.

She must win their complete confidence before she tried anything, so she asked, "Where is your home, Crina?"

Reményke translated, and Crina smiled as she replied, "Bethlenben. A Hargitán."

"Have you a family there?"

Crina's smile broadened as she described her husband, parents, children, grandchildren, siblings and nephews. Ariadne found her entire attention fixed on the ageing peasant detailing the people she loved, hardly aware of Reményke's patient translating behind her.

"She says they took her husband to prison too, and she doesn't know where he is. She worries that her elderly father and young grandchild won't be able to take care of the sheep without her supervision, but perhaps her daughter or her cousin – no, sorry, nephew – will go to help. However, they have their own farms, too, so they might not have time. She knows the family is worrying about her and her husband, but she cannot send a message and doesn't know exactly when her trial will be. She says they might forget to feed the... nem, nem értettem a végét, Zsuzsa..."

"Az édesapám öreg," Crina faithfully repeated. "Lehet, hogy elfelejti megetetni a vérfarkasokat."

Reményke shrugged apologetically. "She is superstitious. Székely peasants are usually superstitious. The literal meaning of what Crina said is, 'My father might forget to feed the werewolves.'"

Ariadne felt her stomach drop away inside her. She was sure that Crina was a Muggle. She pressed the older woman's hands reassuringly and managed to say to Reményke, "I am interested in the folklore of all countries. Ask her for the story about the werewolves."

"All right. But she's rambling; she always confuses these folk stories with information about her own family. Mi van a vérfarkasokkal, Zsuzsanna?"

Elizabeth stirred. When she awoke, she would be hungry, and she did not smell good. Ariadne was once more aware of the revolting odour of the cell, and the temptation to perform a Vanishing spell on the chamber pot suddenly overwhelmed her. She fought off the instinct; whatever she was about to learn was more important than a quick escape.

"Crina says that if the werewolves are already full, they won't eat the sheep. It's important to leave out food for them so that they would be friendly to the local families. These are not ordinary wolves, she repeats, but werewolves, who will take revenge under the full moon if her family annoys them in their human form."

"Are there many werewolves in your village, Crina?"

"She says there are so many werewolves in Harghita that every family has one. They chased away the real wolves long ago, and every full moon a new werewolf is made. She says some bite deliberately, and others escape their homes by accident... Yes, really, Ariadne, that's what she said... that they run wild... Do they have homes? She says some families keep their werewolves locked up... In her family her niece and one cousin are werewolves... But others throw a werewolf out of the house and send him to live in the forest. These forest werewolves can be dangerous, but they do not attack Crina's home, because she always carefully leaves out fresh meat for them. Not much of a story, if you ask me. I'd like to know what really happened to her niece and cousin."

"I liked that story," said Ariadne softly. "It has to be hard for your family, Crina, to sacrifice so much meat, only because other families will not take proper care of their werewolves. I'm thinking you love your niece and your cousin very much."

Crina's eyes grew large and moist, and she squeezed Ariadne's free hand urgently.

"She's saying that you are the first city person who hasn't laughed. Usually city people don't believe in werewolves or vampires or wizards, while she claims these are all common in Harghita."

"Have you a wizard in your family, Crina?"

Reményke laughed as she translated this exchange. "She says there are no wizards in the village of Bethlen. Villages with wizards have less trouble with vampires, but wizards cannot give any help with werewolves."

Ariadne did not understand why the Statute of Secrecy was being so blatantly broken in the wilds of Transylvania or why vampires should seem less frightening than werewolves, but there was clearly a great deal about Hungary that she did not understand.

"I would like to meet the werewolves in Harghita," she said.

Crina recoiled a little.

"She says you cannot do that. The werewolves are frightened of strangers. Hogy mondtad? Oh, she says that bad wizards killed a lot of werewolves during the Second World War, and that's why they now hide from strangers."

"That is a very good story," said Ariadne, more for Reményke's benefit than Crina's. "Will you tell her that I have medicine for werewolves? I can brew a potion..." Reményke looked blank at this terminology. "... There is a flower, and I can use it to make a medicine to help werewolves."

"Nem! Ne, ne!" Crina's face crumpled with terror at this news, and Ariadne wondered if all her work was undone as the older woman began to moan.

"She says 'not the flower'," reported Reményke. "I don't know what legend this is, but apparently the 'werewolf flower' is bad. Crina believes these legends, Ariadne, so you should be careful not to discuss the distressing ones."

"This is maybe a different flower," Ariadne soothed. "I'm not knowing the bad one. Tell me about the bad flower, Crina."

"The... jaj nekem... Crina says there is a moon flower – I don't know the English word for this plant, Ariadne; perhaps it only exists in legend. She says it is an orange flower with ugly black spots and it is poisonous to sheep. But if you pick it under the full moon... igen, bizonyára csak monda!... this flower is white and shining and sweet to taste. It used to grow in Harghita, and whoever ate it became a werewolf."

"Used to grow? Crina, has that bad flower died out now?" Ariadne ignored Reményke's contempt at the question.

"Igen," said Crina, who had apparently recovered her confidence with her trust in Ariadne's ignorance.

"She says that the moon flowers were destroyed hundreds of years ago." This information had safely restored Reményke's scepticism. "Vlad the Impaler... Perhaps you have heard of him, Ariadne? He lived in the fifteenth century and he was the most famous of all Romania's tyrants. Crina says that Vlad the Impaler destroyed Transylvania's stock of moon flowers, but he took a few cuttings home for himself to Wallachia because he wanted the only werewolves in the region to be those under his own control. It is said that the only moon flowers left in the world are growing in Vlad the Impaler's castle."

* * * * * * *

The bread and sour lettuce soup that the guards brought at six o' clock were not too bad, although Reményke complained that Hungarian food was better. Ariadne fed most of hers to Elizabeth, who kept asking for her father and was obviously becoming very uncomfortable. She wondered how long they should wait; the guards were presumably on duty around the clock, but perhaps they were less active at night, when the prisoners were supposed to be asleep.

"Where do the guards stand at night?" she asked.

Reményke shrugged. "We don't see through walls – how could we know? But I suppose they are never far away. To speak of tonight, Crina says you should take her bed because you have the baby."

When was the right time to explain to her cell-mates that none of them would be using a bed tonight? Ariadne waited until Reményke's Swiss quartz watch showed nine o' clock and Elizabeth was nearly asleep again before approaching the door and instructing, "Transparens!" She hoped this was the correct incantation for one-way transparency; she was well aware that her charmwork had degenerated to a fairly basic level.

When the cell door suddenly gave a complete view of the dimly-lit corridor, Reményke shook herself, evidently not believing her own eyes, and did not bother to translate Crina's exclamation, "Ezért hittél nekem – boszorkány vagy!"

Their situation was immediately apparent. There were indeed a couple of guards patrolling this corridor. There was probably another by the stairs and several more in the downstairs passages that led to the front door. That meant she would have to use some spells of attack. She could not remember ever doing that before, and the prospect was so distasteful that, for a moment, she almost changed her mind about wanting to escape.

That was nonsense. Ariadne cast a Silencing Charm on Elizabeth. Unfortunately, this kind of charm was designed to silence voices – what she needed was something that would mute the sound of footsteps. Remus probably knew the charm for that; but there was no time to speculate now. She took a coarse blanket from the lower bunk and began to tie it into a sling so that she could carry Elizabeth with her hands free. Crina helped her, and Reményke was still too disoriented to object.

A Reducto curse would let them out quickly, but it might damage the building – and other prisoners – in unpredictable ways. Alohomora only worked on magical locks. Ariadne settled for a simple Fragmens, with her wand directly contacting the great lock. It burst with a bang, and she quickly aimed two more through the crack of the door to shatter the external bolts. By the time Crina pulled the door open, of course, the noise had brought the guards running.

"Stupefy!" Ariadne had not cast such an aggressive spell since her Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. exam, but these Muggles were not expecting to meet magic – Ariadne had the advantage of surprise. "Stupefy! Stupefy!"

"They will wake up naturally in about an hour." She felt obliged to explain this to her companions. There was no need to tell them that they had to be quiet.

Ariadne, Reményke and Crina stepped across the guards' bodies, along the corridor, down the stairs and through the network of ground-floor passages, with Ariadne Stunning every guard who entered her line of vision. Feeling crazily evil, she noted that the reception desk was closed but that there were two men standing by the great front door; they were only doing their job and they were only defenceless Muggles. However, Muggle cruelty could be just as evil as the magical variety, and it was certainly evil to hold people in prison before trial.

She repeated to herself that they were Muggles. Even if they saw her, they could not reach her before she Stunned them both.

"Stupefy! Stupefy! Fragmens, fragmens, fragmens!"

One minute later, Ariadne, Reményke and Crina stepped outside into the chilly night.

A/N 1. I am very, very grateful to St. Row-a-Check and to Ana Christina for lending me their expertise in their native languages completely free of charge and with a great deal of cultural insight added. I also thank the Sugar Quill for setting up the Babelfish service and Story645 for putting me in contact with Ana Christina. Magical Babelfish are not really required by people who are lucky enough to have friends!

A/N 2. Just in case you forgot to read the Romanian newspapers this morning... Please don't assume that Kurucz Reményke has an accurate and unbiased view of the history of Transylvania. What she says seems true to her, but an equally fanatical Romanian would give a completely different summary of the same situation. What an accurate, well-informed and completely objective historian would say about Transylvania, we have no way of knowing. No such history, either wizarding or Muggle, has ever been written.