The whipping of Gryffindor was a hard thing for gentle Helga to watch. The next morning, as planned by Lord Ravenclaw, the population of the castle was forced to watch as Gryffindor was whipped relentlessly. He never cried out, but it was obvious by the convulsions of his face that he was resisting with every fiber of his being.

It didn't make sense to Salazar. How could one with the Gift not have an ounce of control over it? If Salazar had been in that situation, he knew that he would have been able to charm himself to not feel the pain. Maybe the Gryffindor boy was a very good playactor.

"I don't want to watch it anymore than you do, dear Helga," Rowena whispered out of the corner of her mouth. She could see Helga wincing out of the corner of her eye. Rowena could not help but inwardly wince herself. She would outwardly wince if she knew that her father would not react violently. He couldn't tolerate such acts of weakness. Helga could get away with it, though, her being from an entirely different country. She didn't even have to wear the Ravenclaw livery that the other servants did. She was allowed to wear the plain yellow kirtles that she had brought from her native land.

She seemed to be the favorite of Lord Ravenclaw. Helga did not reciprocate the feeling. She hated the lecherous old man. She whimpered whenever he sent for her, and she never revealed the horrid happenings of those meetings to her mistress. She just prayed that Lord Ravenclaw would leave her be.

After Gryffindor's thirty lashes had been, well, lashed, the crowd was allowed to disperse and go about their duties.

"If my lady doesn't mind," Helga said timidly, curtsying, "I ask that I be allowed to tend to the wounds of the Gryffindor boy."

"Get thee thither. The boy is in need of thy gentle, loving hands," Rowena replied gently.

"Thank thee, mistress!" Helga cried as she fled down the stairs to tend to Godric.

Helga and Godric had been friends since they first met each other. Sometimes they bumped into each other in the kitchens and talked for a few minutes about the goings-on of the castle.

Helga secretly felt that Godric and Rowena possessed a shared destiny, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was. They knew of each other, but they had never spoken. Helga did know very well that whenever Rowena was in the stable, Godric paused from his duties to gaze at her unabashedly. She had to admit that it was quite a humorous sight to see.

This was the foremost thought in her mind as she cleansed the wounds on his shredded, beaten back. That was, until she saw how much Godric winced as she scrubbed his back clean.

"Thou canst cry out if it would make thee feel better," Helga offered.

"I'm not that bad, really, dear Helga," Godric insisted.

When she was done cleaning and bandaging his back, Godric sat up and looked Helga straight in the eye. "Dost thou hate Lord Ravenclaw?"

Fingering the rosary in her pocket, Helga looked startled and nervously glanced at Godric. "What kind of question is that for thee to ask?"

"Answer the question," Godric said gently.

"Hating someone is an evil thing," Helga began nervously.

"Answer the question!" Godric repeated, almost angrily.

"Yes! Yes, I hate him! Is that good enough for thee? I hate the old man! He's a lecherous, mortal sinner!" She wept bitterly. Abruptly she stopped. "I apologize my lord. I should not have lost . . . what's the word? . . .composure like that. Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive, dear Helga," Godric replied warmly. "All I asked of thee was whether or not thou dost hate the man as I do. Wrong as it is, I do hate him. I pray about it all of the time, and it seems like my prayer has been answered."

"How?" Helga asked excitedly.

"Do you know of the Gift that Ravenclaw often speaks?"

"Yes, and I know that we both share the Gift."

"Couldst thou brew a potion for me?"

"What kind of potion must I brew?"

"Before I reveal what kind of potion, thou must swear on all that is holy that thou wilt not reveal the plot."

"I swear on all that is holy, my lord."

"A poison. A poison for Lord Ravenclaw. Lord Slytherin has proposed that I procure a potion, and he shall slip it into the old man's drink. The tyranny shall end, dear Helga! A te deum shall be sung in honor of our glorious uprising!" Godric's eyes lit up in his excitement.

"Thou art asking me to break a Commandment, my lord," Helga replied, "but, if the old man's death is the answer to thine prayers, I shalt do it. I shalt! He shall not torture another soul as long as he may live!