Chapter 10  Truth Serum
 
"Is that all she can remember?"  Albus Dumbledore swivelled around in his desk chair, lifting papers and books.  Finally, he found his platypus-shaped silver bowl of sweets.  "Lemon sherbet, anyone?"
 
Minerva McGonagall shook her head.  "No thanks, Albus.  Yes, I met her yesterday as she was walking back from visiting with Hagrid.  She wanted to tell me something important, and I surmised she had remembered how she came to Hogwarts."
 
Snape stood up, pushing back his chair, and paced over to the window, then back to the Headmaster's desk.  "Well?" he demanded.  "What did she say, what does she know?"
 
Minerva sighed.  "Oh, Severus, stop pacing; you make me dizzy.  She's tried and tried to remember, and she says she can 'feel' the truth somewhere in her mind, but she can't bring it to the fore.  I know I've disagreed with your suggestion of using Veritaserum, but I'm beginning to think it's the only way to help her.  That, and a consultation with the Runes Mistress."
 
Snape smirked at her.  "That I should live to hear you back off on anything, oh, most stubborn of Gryffindors! "
 
McGonagall scowled at him.  "At least I have the courage to back off when I'm wrong, unlike some overbearing Slytherins I know!"
 
"How typical of you to have to be right about everything – including, I suppose, your recommendation that our resident Druid, crackpot that she is, put her two Knuts' worth into an already difficult situation!"
 
"Crackpot!  You should hear yourself, Severus, you should just hear yourself, self-righteously complaining because everything isn't YOUR way!"  She smiled her most feline smile; an invisible tail lashed from side to side.  Her eyes narrowed.  "Perhaps you're afraid of losing control…"
 
"How dare you!" bellowed the Potions Master, swirling his cloak about himself in agitated folds.  "If it weren't for me—"
 
The Headmaster held up his hand. "Please, please, both of you stop squabbling!  We have so much to do and, I fear, not much time in which to do it.  Severus, you can make a dose of Veritaserum for the, erm, large young lady, can't you?"
 
Snape controlled himself with difficulty.  "I daresay I can.  I will need her weight and her pulse count and some other information.  I shall notify Madam Pomfrey of my requirements."  He looked at his colleague with undisguised superiority:  "As you very well know, Professor McGonagall, given the correct information, I can prepare a potion for any recipient."
 
The Transfiguration Professor stood up.  'I've had about all the snark I can take for one day," she stated, glaring at Snape.  "Oh, and you gentlemen might be interested to know that Miss Helgarda has decided to stay with Hagrid, in his cottage, for the remainder of her time at Hogwarts.  She feels very much at home with him."  She smiled sweetly and swept out of the door.
 
"Ah, me," mused Dumbledore.  "It's very sweet, indeed, but there will be some tears and sorrow at their parting."
 
Snape sniffed audibly. "I knew there was something wrong with that potion." 
***
                             

"He's not so terrible," stated Poppy Pomfrey, as she assisted Helgarda to step onto a flat, round stone.  "He just likes everyone to think he is, but if you were to choose someone to back you up in a difficult situation, you couldn't choose one better."  She waved her wand over a mirror standing on a shelf; characters appeared on it.  "Hmm, you are a big girl, but in proportion."  She wrote something on a piece of parchment, and then gave it to her aide, Brigit, who walked up to the fireplace, threw a handful of powder into the flames, bent over and shouted, "Snape!" in a strong Irish brogue.

The mediwitch sat Helgarda down on a chair. "Brigit will give your information to the Professor, so he can compound the potion precisely for you," she remarked.  "Now, just a few things more—" some wand waving and note taking, and then she was finished.

"What will happen now?  I mean, what will happen to me?  Headmaster Dumbledore told me that Veritaserum will help me to remember what happened when I came here.  Does he mean that I will actually live it again?"  She shuddered.

"No, dear, not at all.  It will be like recalling anything else you might have thought you'd forgotten, and there are no ill effects." She patted Helgarda's hand, and motioned Sister Brigit over.

"I told himself what the lady's weight is, and her heart rate, and he says to come down now," stated the red-haired Druid.  She looked up at Helgarda:  'Ye're such a fine girl, 'tis pity that someone wishes ye ill."  A small smile played upon her face: "I'll wager ye're fierce in battle."

"I am," said Helgarda. The Celts had a great reputation for warfare; doubtless Brigit herself was a formidable fighter.  She followed Brigit out of the hospital ward and along the corridors and moving staircases, on their way to Professor Snape's laboratory.  "Sister Brigit, I've only gotten a glimpse of Professor Snape.  He looks thin and ill, and very grumpy, but is he as terrible as the children say he is?"

"Och, t'in he is, and grumpy indeed, as if his britches pinched him in the arse.  He's nasty to the children, but the smart ones figure him out straightaway: work hard and learn well is all he asks."  She snorted; she had often thought that a sound kick in said arse would do the man a world of good.  Then again, he might just need a good shagging…she looked up at Helgarda.  "There's some men what wouldn't know a blessing if it hit them in the face.  But his heart is good.  Don't be feared o'him, dear.  He has vowed to help ye."

They wound their way down a long, stone corridor, its walls bedewed with damp.  At the end stood a heavy oaken door with wide black iron bands.  It was shut, but as they approached, it swung inwards with a screech that set Helgarda's teeth on edge.  She ducked her head as they went through the doorway, and looked around.  So this was Professor Snape's workroom…it reminded her of Skjald's workroom in his small hut: crowded with all kinds of strange things which no-one was allowed to touch.  There was a difference, though: Skjald's workroom was dusty and draped with cobwebs; Professor Snape's laboratory was immaculate.  Glass and pottery vessels gleamed; phials and flasks stood ranged on shelves, their many-coloured contents shining like jewels.  A still operated on a tabletop, reminding Helgarda of her mother's still, out of which dripped akvavit, liquid fire…

The Potions Master stood at the side of his workbench.  He came forward and bowed.  "Severus Snape," he pronounced.  "Please sit down."  He indicated a chair with a small table next to it.  "Sister Brigit, you may go," he said, and the aide left the laboratory, almost colliding with Professor McGonagall.

The Transfigurations Professor carried a small silver bowl.  She sat down on a chair next to Helgarda and patted her shoulder.  "There's nothing to worry about," she said.  "At the worst, you won't remember much.  At the best, you'll remember everything as if you were watching someone else.  This is a Pensieve – a place to store memories, so we can look at them carefully, once you've remembered them."

Helgarda sat as still as a stone, staring at Snape.  He had only said a few words to her, but his voice – he had the most beautiful voice she had ever heard:  warm, smooth, and soft, like the lovely fur of a seal.   If seal fur had a voice, she decided, it would be Snape's. She drew herself up, straight and tall.  "Ungarn!  Red Erik! Helgarda suddenly shouted.  "I'm ready," she said in a small voice.

Professor Snape approached her with a small goblet in his hand.  "Drink this," he said.  "You will not notice any difference in how you feel, but when we ask you questions, you will begin to remember."  He handed her the goblet, and she took a small sip of the liquid within it.  It tasted faintly sweet, faintly of the peppermint that grew wild around her mother's kitchen garden, and faintly of something else, something like an herb but none she could name.  She drained the goblet and handed it back to the Potions Master. 

The tall man pulled over a chair and sat down in front of her.  He held out his hands, and she put her hand in his.  His fingers probed her pulse.  "We begin," he said, and Helgarda's heart beat a little faster.  "What is the first thing you remember?" he asked.

Helgarda answered immediately. "I was lying face down on a bed of autumn leaves, bright colours," she said.  "I was surprised that I was not lying in mud, and that it was not raining, as it had been before I – before the barbarian made to cut my throat."  Shocked, she stopped; she had not remembered that before, but she could see the heavy blade descending towards her throat, feel the hand pulling her braid cruelly to tip her head backwards.

Professor McGonagall held tightly to Helgarda's left hand, and she pressed the woman's fingers.  She looked expectantly at Professor Snape.  "Describe what happened before the barbarian made to cut your throat," he asked.

"I had just dispatched several warriors, and I drew my battle dagger.  My sword, Storm King, is heavy, but I can wield it with one hand.  Three of the barbarians were circling around me – when that happens, one is always afraid, one is foolhardy, and one must beware of the third.  I moved lightly around, testing, feinting with my sword, to see which was which, when I felt a hand seize my braid and pull my head back.  I – I dropped my dagger, yes, and shifted my weight, ready to spin and throw my attacker over my shoulder.  I saw a sword arm rise, and then—and then---" She shook her head.  "It's all over foggy and misty, and I can't see."

Snape leaned forward, his hands clasped around her right hand.  "Close your eyes," he commanded.  "Now – what do you hear?"  Helgarda closed her eyes and tilted her head, listening.  Then, her eyes sprang open with surprise.  "Chanting. I hear chanting."

"Can you make out the words?"  Snape drew closer to the giantess and watched her face carefully. Her eyes moved quickly from side to side as if she were watching an enactment of the scene.  Professor McGonagall rested her wand lightly against Helgarda's brow; the giantess hardly noticed that wraiths of silver smoke curled down the wand and into the silver bowl on the witch's lap.

She was silent for a moment.  "Is it – no, I thought it was a saga I know, but I don't understand the words.  It's some other tongue.  It hurts my head to listen to it."  She withdrew her hands and dropped her head into them; the strain was considerable.

"Concentrate," the soft, warm voice urged her.  "Can you feel anything?"

"Yes…it's cold, there's a cold wind blowing – something's pushing me…" She sat up, her face pale, perspiration beading her brow.  "I can't, I can't remember any more…" She looked at Professor Snape in desperation:  "I'm sorry…"

"We have a Pensieve full of your recollections to analyse," stated the Potions Master."  He released Helgarda's hand.  "I suggest that you rest for a time, before you meet with the Runes Mistress."  He held her arm as she stood up, scanning her face for signs of disorientation or dizziness.

Professor McGonagall handed the Pensieve to Snape.  "I wish both you and Albus good luck with this," she said.  "I'm going to take the young lady up to the Tea Parlour and make sure she eats something.  Dame Angharad will meet us there."

As they turned to leave the laboratory, Helgarda turned around.  "Professor Snape," she said, "thank you.  I know you will help me."  The man nodded and turned back to the silver bowl.

***

I shall do this to thee and more; thou shalt suffer grievously for thy disobedience! Art thou ready to do my bidding?  The Mage swam slowly up to consciousness.  There was not a part of him that did not ache.  Dimly he felt his heart begin to beat again, and his blood began to move through his limbs.  He lived; he had not been killed – yet. 

Master, I shall do as you ask.  I shall find where the maid is, and bring her back.