QL, Falmouth Falcons, Captain: Theme - finding out your loved one/partner/family hid something major from you and left you with that something (debt/a child/a cursed object etc) and what you do about it.
Assignment 3, Gardening task 8: Write about someone viewed as innocent or pure
Word Count: 1955
Note: According to Pottermore, prior to Hogwarts having plumbing installed, the Chamber of Secrets was accessed through a trapdoor.
"Where are you going?"
Helga freezes, turning and finding herself face to face with Godric. Despite the late hour, he doesn't look tired; his bright eyes are focused and alert, and there's an almost manic aura about him.
She understands, of course. Godric had been close to Salazar. She imagines he must be taking it hard, knowing his beloved friend has walked away without a word—except the letter in her cloak pocket is a reminder that he hadn't left in silence.
"I wanted to take a stroll to clear my head," she says sweetly. "I miss him too, Godric."
His thin lips quirk, and she isn't sure whether he's going to smile or frown. In the end, he keeps his lips pressed into a hard, thin line. Without a word, he nods and turns on his heel before carrying on with his nighttime patrol. Helga wonders if he's trying to make the castle's occupants feel safe, or if he's hoping to be the first to greet Salazar if he returns.
As she pushes the heavy door and makes her way outside, her slender fingers brush over the parchment in her pocket. She doesn't need to dig it out. By now, she has read the contents enough that she knows it by heart. Her dear friend has made it abundantly clear that he has no intention of ever returning.
She swallows dryly, shuddering from a chill that has nothing to do with the cold November wind. His letter had been vague but ominous, and one line stands out as she continues her trek to the lake.
I cannot go into detail now, as my letter might get intercepted, but I can promise you will not be harmed. I have left instructions to keep you safe.
This meeting is unwise. Helga is well aware that she is being foolish, but she can't bring herself to ignore Salazar. Rowena is the one who makes decisions based on logic; Helga prefers to follow her heart, and her heart tells her that Salazar needs her.
When she reaches the lake, Helga looks around, but she is alone. She squints against the darkness, hoping to catch a glimpse of a figure in the distance. There is only the gentle rustle of tree branches.
"Salazar?" she calls; only silence greets her.
Salazar doesn't appear, but a sudden silver light streaks through the air, illuminating the night. Helga takes a step back, nearly tripping over own feet. Slowly, her eyes adjust to the light of the charm, and she recognizes Salazar's serpent Patronus. It lifts its head, mouth opening.
Salazar's deep, steady voice fills the night. "This may seem strange to you. After all, Godric was my dearest friend. I fear he would not understand the way you would. I am terribly sorry, but I believe you are the only one who can help."
…
Helga stands over the trapdoor, trembling. She doesn't know what is waiting for her, only that Salazar is depending on her, and she cannot stand the thought of letting him down.
Pushing back her fear—perhaps Godric would be better suited; Helga doubts he would see this as anything more than an exciting new challenge, not some terrifying mystery to be afraid of—she clears her throat, grateful that Salazar has prepared her. Though his Patronus has long since vanished, she can still hear his voice in her head, guiding her along.
"You are not a Parselmouth, but the command is simple enough to mimic."
She doesn't know how simple it actually is. As she attempts the strange hissing sound, her cheeks flood with warmth, and she is glad no one is around to see her like this. She's certain she looks as ridiculous as she feels.
The trapdoor doesn't budge. Again, Helga tries, and the sounds feel so awkward on her tongue. She hears a sound like a lock falling away, and she pulls at the trapdoor; it opens without any trouble.
Helga squints, but she can't see anything beyond the darkness. Part of her wonders if she can truly trust Salazar. Would she be better off turning back now and pushing this silly task from her mind? Perhaps, but she can't seem to do it. No matter how terrified she is of the unknown, she is obligated to help him. He trusts her, and she knows she won't able to live with herself if she betrays that trust.
Biting the inside of her cheek, she inches closer to the edge, pressing her palms against either side. Slowly, she lowers herself through the hole in the floor, her heart racing. It is a narrow space, and her plump figure can just barely slide through without difficulty. When her feet hit solid ground, she sighs with relief but can't relax quite yet. Though one weight has been lifted, she still has so many unanswered questions, and her only hope of finding closure is Salazar's voice still echoing in her head.
"It will not be easy. I sincerely apologize, dear Helga. You are so good, so kind, and I hate that I have to bother you with this. Once you finish this journey, I'm sure you'll understand why I had to be so cautious."
Helga draws her wand. Her eyes have not yet adjusted to the darkness, but she doesn't illuminate her wand. Her priority, above all else, is to avoid getting lost down here. She mutters a spell, and a glowing streak spills from the tip of her wand, stretching as she takes a few steps forward, much like the old myth of Theseus using Ariadne's thread to find his way.
The spell provides a soft light, but it is hardly enough. She still finds herself stumbling through awkwardly, scraping her elbows against the rough stone walls and encountering dead ends.
As she walks, she wonders if her innocence and kindness will be her downfall. She cannot imagine Salazar asking Godric or Rowena such a favor with no explanation. Helga, however, with her reputation for taking in the lost and broken, is an ideal candidate. Perhaps she should hate herself for feeling too much, but she still can only see it as a blessing, not a curse.
At the end of the day, it doesn't matter that it is inconvenient, that she has set her own desires and needs aside to care for someone else. If she has the opportunity to help someone—even someone like Salazar who has betrayed them, whose ideologies clash so spectacularly with her own—she will.
"You are the only one I can trust with this. Though I know I do not deserve your kindness, I know that your pure heart will convince you otherwise. That has always been a strength that I admire in you."
She wanders deeper and deeper into the twisting labyrinthine tunnels. Time seems altered down here. Has it been minutes? Hours? Days? The darkness is disorienting, but she forces herself forward.
Navigating becomes easier. Her steps become more sure.
"You see, Helga, I have a great secret, and I've had no choice but to leave it behind when I left. I know that I can trust you with it. You, the woman who values loyalty so much, would never betray my confidence. Your innocent view of the world will allow you to see more than just a monster. Without your goodness, this living creature will suffer."
She approaches the entrance to the chamber and takes a deep breath. Her heartbeat quickens, and she can't stop trembling. What sort of beast waits for her beyond these doors? Why can't she bring herself to turn back and run away while she still has a chance?
Helga mutters a quick incantation to end her previous spell and tie off the streak of light. She could follow it back now and be rid of this place and Salazar's secrets.
But she cannot allow herself to walk away.
"Lumos," she whispers, and her wand's tip lights up, a radiant burst of white illuminating her path. She presses forward.
The chamber is strange. While they all had desired to leave their mark on the castle, Salazar has taken it to the next level. As she passes through the chamber, torches on the wall burst into flame, casting light on the serpents carved into the walls and pillars. Most alarming, however, is the giant statue of Salazar. Though it's strange, it's hardly surprising. Salazar has never been happy with ordinary and enough. He's always had to prove himself, to find a way to be the best.
"I know you won't understand, but I believe you'll find it in your heart to care for my beloved monster. You're too good to walk away. I trust you, Helga. My legacy is in your hands."
At first, she doesn't understand. Is this his legacy—some hidden chamber underground, an area that will never be seen by most of the castle—that he cares so much about? Is she meant to maintain the shrine he has erected for himself?
As quickly as the thought enters her mind, however, she knows it isn't the case. The chamber is strange and unnerving, but it hardly counts as a monster.
The sudden sliding noise catches her attention, and she turns quickly. A scream sticks in her throat when she sees the giant Basilisk. Helga scurries back, her feet sliding over the slick ground. "Please…"
To her surprise, the monstrous serpent stops and lays its head down, carefully averting its eyes.
"I told you in my letter that I have promised to keep you safe. Please believe me. You are the only one who can lay down your prejudices long enough to care."
He had been right. A laugh spills from Helga's lips as she steps closer, reaching out. Fear distorts time, and it feels like she walks an eternity before her fingers finally brush over the Basilisk's cold, rough scales. The moment her skin connects with the creature, she feels something shift within her. Her heart melts, and she knows she has to keep this poor thing safe.
"Don't worry," she tells it, gently stroking it. She wonders if it can understand her, or if there is a language barrier since she is not a Parselmouth. "I won't let anything happen to you."
…
"There you go again, disappearing into the night," Rowena says when she passes Helga in the corridor. "If you weren't so innocent and virginal, I might suspect you were meeting with a lover."
Helga's cheeks flush with heat at the thought, and she fans herself. "Nothing so scandalous," she says with a nervous chuckle.
"Then where do you go?" she presses.
Helga tugs nervously at her auburn locks. She's never been a good liar, but she knows she cannot tell the truth. No one else will understand what she is doing. Godric will undoubtedly take it upon himself to slay the Basilisk, and Rowena will justify the poor creature's murder with logic.
"I just have something to tend to," she says. "A few chores to spare the house-elves from."
It must be convincing. Rowena smiles fondly before patting Helga's cheek affectionately, as she might with a child. "Your kindness has no limits. I believe I will retire for the night. Don't stay out too late."
"I won't."
With that, they part ways. Helga hurries along, walking the familiar path to the trapdoor as she has done countless nights over the past two months.
She knows she doesn't have to do it. There is nothing actually binding her to this majestic beast. Still, she makes the journey four nights a week without fail.
This is a strange inheritance, a dangerous secret Salazar has left behind, but Helga doesn't mind. She will not let him down.