Mini Author's Note: This is a spin-off of Inclusiveness Atypically Hufflepuff, a fanfic written for Veritaserum's bajab's HoH challenge. Since that crazy production took me bloody ages to research, I thought, 'what the heck; don't waste it' and came up with this: the story from Beitris's POV. Hate it or enjoy it, all's up to you!
Obligatory Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is not mine. This, however, is.
Requesting: Criticism (to stop me from being weird) and Challenges (to keep me from running out of ideas) Volunteers, anywhere?
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SMWC 01: Beitris
This is a transcript of Beitris's experience as extracted through the use of a pensieve and also memory modifications regarding the extraction process. Memories of contact were later returned to subject, albeit slightly modified.
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The third day of the second winter month, 980 AD, was cold, damp and miserable.
Yet Viking-Scot Beitris the Weaver fought through the semi-darkness of the bush and repressed her fear of vindictive goblins, and headed upwards of the highlands, she did not feel the cold—and she was out, in the middle of nowhere, on a path that she did not recognize, going to a place she did not know.
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Beitris thought that she was more clammy and stifled under her hangaroc and leines, than shivering.
And if shudders were wracking her body, and quails threatening her mind, it was because her beloved son G'nagal was sick; suddenly, desperately so; in all probability the victim of an evil curse by some haggled old witch who was jealous of his youth and vitality.
As she well knew, curses were notoriously hard to be rid of, and there was no healer skilled enough in the village to cast that malevolence away; but she refused to accept the predicted fate. Her son was her only one in a bevy of daughters, and she would do anything at all to save him. Thus she was now upon a journey of faith; as there was only one hope in the distance for him—a fragile hope that might not even exist.
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Soft leather boots squished through the last of forest compost, and then Beitris was past the unknown regions of the terrifying woods and entering a wide, open area, where there lay a fenced-off garden. (see end note)
She ran towards it, weary limbs given new hope, though her steps faltered when she saw fully the figure in Irish-style dress within the garden. Instinct told her that this was no servant or mere healer.
Was this really the person she was looking for? And would she have the power to triumph over evil?
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Thought for G'nagal brought her forward. Ba-dump. Ba-dum. Ba-dump. Her heart thud slowly, frightening; she thought that the other must hear it, so loud it sounded to her own ears.
But the woman in blue and yellow and purple just smiled, asking for Beitris's leather pouch, then moved off to gather some herbs with mysterious ceremonies and invocations. It was strange, of course, that no thought that the other might intend harm would cross Beitris's mind. But this, she attributed to the obvious aura of serenity and kindness that the other radiated, that she could usually feel when communing with her inner self at Beltane and the festival of the Goddess. And Beitris prided herself on being able to sense these things very well.
The owner of the herb garden soon returned, and with instructions. "Take this and mix it with a cup of milk and three drops of ale, and some honey to sweeten it all. Your child should be well soon. The petals are for you and your son to consume, and they will boost sleep to replenish energy." Somehow all other necessary knowledge was formed in her mind, and as the white petals were held out Beitris accepted all, heart grateful and with many tumbled thanks.
"It is but my duty," was the murmured response, and "smooth sailing in your voyage through life, Beitris."
Beitris was surprised. To be Viking was to sail the seas, and her name indeed meant a voyage through life.
Yet just as quickly, the surprise faded. This woman was of the good, after all, and the gods had probably given her special knowledge. She smiled at the other, touched by the kind workings of fate, then sketched a curtsey before leaving.
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Hours later, with the help of the concoction, her irrepressible lad was once more up and chasing the chickens, and the McCorrs were smiling knowingly at her as they passed by with their little flock.
She would always give them a special smile of thanks, and make her mind up to go through the forest once more with a little gift for the one who had saved her son. But she would never actually remember to do so, though she would not know why. There would be a niggling feeling about it at the strangest times, and the talk of evil spreading never affected her as strongly as it did others, as if she knew that somehow they would be protected.
Instead, as a respected member of her community, with the miraculous healing of her son being attributed to special blessings from the gods, she was able to help allay fears of catastrophe and maintain the peace of her little village.
But she never managed to actually form the thought that beyond the trees, there was one whom she knew was powerful enough to cast away the dark. And she would never realize that she had not once heard the healer give her name, or wonder why it did not bother her.
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The McCorrs in this transcript are the McCorrs C. and J. from the members list of UMWizH members then. The woman's son had been magically diagnosed as having eaten fever-inducing berries from an unknown source, and not having the necessary medical knowledge to heal him the McCorrs had taken the initiative to refer Beitris to the Hogwarts wizards, hoping that the best situation would come out of this encounter.
After the successful healing, an impartial UMWizH recorder, K. O'Reil, took it upon herself to approach the weaver and borrow her memories for filing within our database. Subtle modifications were however made at the insistence of the Hogwarts staff, keeping all tangible knowledge of the journey to the revered school 'locked' unless there arose a desperate need for it again. In this way it was ensured that Hogwarts' peace and silence could be retained, and maximum isolation from the outside world achieved.
This case has been listed as one of the more successful initiations of non-violent contact between Muggles and Wizards. The McCorrs, who continued to subtly enforce calming vibes in their area of reference, were eventually suitably awarded with "Concerned for the Fate of the Communities" recognition, and blazed onto the roll of "Wizards Genuinely Interested In Maintaining Good Relationships With Our Non-Magical Brethen".
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Author's End Note: Regarding the description of the herb garden as standing alone, "with no other glimpsable building near it", is because Hogwarts is supposedly bewitched so that Muggles could not see it. Being an invention of Godric Gryffindor (here in my imagination, anyway) the "castle" would have really freaked out any normal person! This way it ties in with Helga's unconcern for Beitris's reaction to the strange building in IaH. The herb garden, I allowed to be seen, as it was relatively "normal". And that's about it… by the way, the figure is Helga Hufflepuff.
Post Script: I haven't beta-ed this yet so if anyone picks up on any errors, please tell me!
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Author's Replies:
Arne: Thanks for the suggestion. I'll make the Ford Anglia case happen in the next chapter in this story! (After I get CoS from the school library, that is) By the way, what is muggles neithborough?
