A/N: All characters belong to JK Rowling. No copyright infringements are intended nor is money being made.
Many thanks to Noleme for speedy beta work!
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CHAPTER 6
Nadia made her decision while lying in bed, looking dreamily at the sunbeams streaming through the window. The lovely tower suite was cozy, lovely, the fine china and silver accompanying each meal made her feel like a princess, and the books fascinating, but she wanted to leave.
Dumbledore seemed genuinely concerned about her, but the Legilimency with Snape was too much, and now he wanted to use truth serum! The younger man's implication that she was infiltrating their world was insulting. She hadn't even been aware of magic, let alone Hogwarts, until she'd stumbled onto the train.
Besides, time and money were becoming concerns. Her vacation was into its sixth day; in five more she'd need to catch her flight back home for a couple of days' recovery before returning to work. Undoubtedly, her credit card would be charged for the missed stays at the Inverlochy castle and the Edinburgh bed and breakfast where she'd been expected last night.
Well, the experience itself was worth it, right?
The only reasonable action in this crazy situation was to get up and go. If she couldn't board their magic train, then she'd just walk to the next town. Thank goodness she'd brought hiking boots. Once she reached a main road, perhaps she could catch a ride to the nearest "normal" town or train station.
She inadvertently snorted at the thought of "normal." They use the term "Muggle," Nadia reminded herself. Rising, she peeked into the sitting room. The coffee table was empty; no breakfast had been delivered yet by the stealthy server.
She showered quickly, dressed in jeans, a sturdy sweater and her boots, and packed carefully. It would be a bit tricky carrying the extra luggage, plus the lute. Nadia converted the woven straps with which her luggage had been secured for transport to hang the bags from her pack. An uncomfortable arrangement, to be sure, but it would work.
When she fully opened the sitting room door, a covered breakfast awaited. She made sure to finish all of the oatmeal and eggs, unsure how long it might be before she'd eat again. Perhaps there was a grocery store in the village below.
After brushing her teeth, she sat at the desk to write a grateful note to Dumbledore, thanking him for his hospitality and noting the name and address of her Edinburgh B&B. If he would please send her the correct mailing address, she would send more money to cover the costs she'd incurred. It would be unwise leave credit card information—did magical people even use credit cards?—so she'd have to use most of the British cash she'd gotten at the airport. Enclosing one hundred pounds in notes with the letter, she strapped on her purse, pulled on her coat over it, hiked on the strung together daypack and luggage, and picked up the lute case. A final, fond glance around the room, and she unbolted the door to begin the circular descent.
Once out of the tower, there was only one stairway to the main floor. The wide, well-polished stone surface seemed in excellent condition. Presumably, Dumbledore's warning about "unpredictable" stairs applied to others in the castle.
Classes were in session, so the halls were empty. Nadia reached for the metal pull on one of the enormous front doors, and was surprised how easily it swung open. The air was chill and gray clouds filled most of the sky, but the sun still shone through encouragingly. Nadia trudged down the long path toward the gates, the bags swinging and striking her hips and thighs with each step. She tried to smooth her gait, but knew that by the time she reached civilization, she'd be thoroughly bruised and very much looking forward to a long, hot bath.
Ahead, a tawny owl winged its way toward the castle, casting a fleet shadow on the damp earth. By the time she reached the iron gates, the bird had passed.
Shifting her load, Nadia reached for the gate. It wouldn't budge; obviously, it was locked. Looking down at her feet, she sighed.
"Oi, there!" a voice boomed.
Nadia turned and nearly fell backwards upon seeing the tallest and widest person she'd even seen. Crowned with unruly hair and an equally wild beard, the dark-eyed man was wearing fur clothing. One immense hand clutched a staff as big as a tree limb while the other wiped at his perspiring forehead with a tablecloth-sized kerchief. He would have made a ferocious football lineman, if they made uniforms that large.
Nadia staggered in surprise, her balance already somewhat precarious from the luggage. A mammoth hand reached out and gently steadied her.
"Didn't mean ta scare ya like that, miss," the burly man blurted. "One of th' Blast-Ended Skrewts got away, and I thought it were headin' ta' this end of th' prop'ty. Ya didn't see it, did ya? About this big and yay high?" His gestures indicated about five by two feet.
He seemed sincerely apologetic for startling her and concerned for whatever creature for which he was searching.
"Um, no. Just an owl overhead," Nadia reported. "Could you give me a hand with the gate?"
"Aye, that I can do." He stepped up to the gate, pulling out a huge, jingling key ring. As he flipped through the dozen of keys, he looked sideways at her. "Don't believe as we've met. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper o' th' Keys and Grounds," he said proudly.
"Nadia Beasley. Just visiting." She wondered idly whether blast-end skrewt was Scottish for skunk.
"Hmm. Odd that Dumbledore didn't mention that t'me," he muttered to himself. She waited patiently as he found the correct steel hunk and fitted it into the lock. It turned only partly, so he jiggled it a bit before twisting his wrist. Unsuccessful, again.
"I know it's th' right un." He removed the key, sucked in some air, and blew hard into the lock. A bit of dust and piece of leaf flew up from the mighty blast. Hagrid inserted and turned the key again with the same result. "Bloody thing," he muttered, then looked down with apologetic alarm. "Sorry fer th' language, miss. But this ain't happened ta me before."
Anxiety slowly crept up on her spirit of determination as the giant man resumed studying and retrying the lock. she tried to will it open: Please, please.
"There's a place for you here."
Her instinctive turn stopped before she even got a quarter way, and her breath caught. Mr. Hagrid hadn't spoken. She knew that voice. It came from within.
Anxiety heightened, she thought fervently, But I want to leave!
"Patience. There is need."
What need? Whose? she wondered.
The only sound was the fur-clothed man's cursing under his breath. He seemed near to kicking the gate when she pulled herself to the present. Hesitantly raising her free hand, Nadia plucked at his sleeve "Mr. Hagrid? It's alright. I think I'll be staying."
He looked at her quizzically. "Are ya sure? Yer all packed."
Nadia looked wistfully at the trail leading to Hogsmeade, then turned resolutely. "Yes. I'm sorry to have bothered you."
"Not a problem." He tilted his head and stepped toward her. "Here, let me take that luggage. It looks mighty awkward," he offered, hands stretched forward.
"Oh, I've carried heavier loads, and I need the exercise. You need to be looking for that, uh, skrewt." Nadia put on a convincing smile. "But thanks."
"Well, I guess I'll be seein' ya," Hagrid said.
Nadia wasn't so sure she'd get outside again. "It was nice meeting you."
Hagrid took her extended hand and shook it daintily for fear of crushing her. It had happened before, although entirely by accident. "The same, miss."
With a final glance to the outside world, Nadia turned back to the castle as the groundskeeper went in search for the skrewt. She quietly winded her way back to the tower and, once inside the suite, set her bags on the floor and tiredly leaned backwards against the heavy wood door.
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The now familiar rap came just as the mantle clock was beginning its on-the-hour chime. Snape opened the door and strode to Nadia's chair, robe and hair swishing with his silent speed. This time he extracted from within his robe a stoppered bottle, which he placed on the table. She bent forward, looking curiously at the syrupy fluid flecked with blue sparkles.
"Is this the magic elixir?" she asked sincerely.
Eyes narrowing, Snape took a moment to shove aside his disgust. "A migraine remedy. The primary ingredients are oil of rosemary and juice of ground ivy."
"Really?" She held the bottle to the light. "I knew rosemary was safe to ingest, but ivy—hmm."
"There are a great many plants that may be safely used with the proper knowledge, Miss Beasley," Snape replied, his voice tinged with irritation.
Continuing to examine the unusual liquid, she asked, "I've been reading some of the basic textbooks Headmaster Dumbledore dropped off. This was actually made in a cauldron?"
"Yes." He indulged her curiosity with measured patience.
"And when I finally leave here, I'll be—what is it called?—Obliviated?"
Snape paused only a moment. "Yes."
"Ah, too bad," she sighed. "The most interesting experience in my life, and I'm doomed to forget all about it."
Snape offered a cold semblance of a smile before continuing. "Upon the next migraine, take one teaspoon. The dosage is based on the ingredients' concentration and your size. You should find relief within 10 minutes."
"Thank you," she said. His face clearly showed that he knew she still was skeptical. "Bear with me, won't you? It's kind of like—well, going to an Indian restaurant, and not knowing which curry is mild, which is hot, and which is going to blow your head off."
Snape allowed one twitch of his mouth. "I assure you, this will not 'blow your head off,' as you so eloquently put it. Now, to work." Snape stood. "We're due in the Headmaster's office in ten minutes."
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She had to hurry to keep up with his strides. They'd gotten to the fifth floor before he slowed and dropped back to her. "I understand that you tried to escape today," he murmured, looking at her sideways.
"‛Escape'?" Her jaw dropped at his inappropriate word choice.
"Hush!" he admonished, looking about for students. "Lower your voice."
"I was just trying to get back to where I belong," Nadia explained, her cheeks reddened with indignation.
Snape smiled in an unsettling manner. "Anything to avoid Veritaserum, eh?" Before she could respond, he picked up his pace so that she was five steps behind.
When she finally climbed to the seventh floor, Snape stood next to the gargoyle, still as the statue, only his eyes moving to watch her progress. He whispered the password, and the carving suddenly jolted to one side, revealing the stairway. Nadia didn't deign to look at the inscrutable professor as she stepped inside.
"Ah, Miss Beasley." Dumbledore opened his arms in greeting upon their arrival. "Thank you for agreeing to see us. You remember Professor McGonagall?"
Nadia recalled the cat transfiguration, which increased the nervousness that Snape had stirred. "Yes, of course. Good evening."
"Professor Snape informs us that he has encountered some slight complications, and that you have kindly agreed to take Veritaserum," Dumbledore said, smiling benignly as Snape stood imperiously behind her.
She nodded. "He feels I'm not being entirely 'up front,' so it would be faster for all of us and clear up any misunderstandings."
"We appreciate your candor," Dumbledore said, inviting her to sit. As Snape extracted three bottles from his robe, the Headmaster continued. "Severus has indicated that you have some concerns about taking potions. Severus is not only Hogwarts' Potions master, he is also one of the finest potions-makers in the wizarding world." Snape acknowledged the compliment with a bow. "He is one of the few qualified to brew Veritaserum. It can be used only by following strict guidelines established by the Ministry of Magic to guard against misuse.
"I assure you, Miss Beasley, that we will avoid asking questions of a personal nature that we do not believe have any application to how or why you have accessed the wizarding world. Do you have any questions, my dear?"
Nadia shook her head
Snape stood by her side, a plum-sized glass vial in one hand, a spoon in the other. "This, Miss Beasley"—he held up what appeared to be water—"contains Veritaserum. It is colorless, odorless and very powerful. From conducting Legilimency and observing your reaction to the migraine, I have determined that this particular potion's strength is calibrated to work with a person of your height and weight.
This"—he indicated one of two bottles sitting on Dumbledore's desk—"is the antidote. Once we have finished, I will give you the proper dose, and you will come out of the questioning state. You will not remember what you were asked nor what you answered.
"The other bottle you will recognize from what I presented you tonight. It is the migraine potion. If you should very unexpectedly have a reaction from the Veritaserum, I will be prepared to treat the migraine immediately." Snape stood still, looking down his nose, stringy black hair framing his chalky pallor. "Do you understand what I have told you?"
"Yes," Nadia said, bracing herself.
"Very well." Snape poured several drops of Veritaserum into the spoon, then administered it. Almost immediately upon swallowing, her body relaxed and her head slunk. Dumbledore and McGonagall kept watch as Snape folded his arms and began questioning.
"Who are you?"
"Nadia Diana Beasley."
"Are you under the influence or control of any magic beside Veritaserum?"
"No."
"Where do you live?"
"Forest Grove, Oregon. The United States."
"Where and when were you born?"
"Portland, Oregon. Dec. 23, 1958."
"Who are your parents?"
"Darrel Eugene Beasley and Elaine Darlene McPherson. My mother is dead."
"How did she die?"
"Mom died from cancer."
"And where is your father?"
"He remarried a few years ago. They live in Florida."
"Where were you educated, and in what subjects?"
"George Fox College in Forest Grove. I have a double bachelor's degree in music and history."
"What is your profession?"
"I'm a secretary for an office suite. Uh, a professed Christian." McGonagall smiled at the young woman's scrupulosity in interpreting the question.
"Married?"
"No."
"Children? Siblings?"
"No children; I've never married. My sister Dee has three and lives in Texas."
"Are you close to your family?"
"Dad's in real estate and has a new family now. We just write once in a while, don't really call. Same with Dee. She's busy with her family and does a lot of volunteer work."
The preliminaries aside, Snape's intensity grew. "Why are you here?"
"A vacation in Scotland, the Yorkshires. It's gone wrong."
"What is your business here?"
"Traveling, seeing museums and hiking. Picking up a pre-paid musical instrument."
"Who do you work for?"
"Barnes, Aaronson, Jasper and Taylor. I'm their administrative support."
"What are your intentions at Hogwarts?"
"To go home. I didn't mean to come here."
"Do you plan to harm anyone at Hogwarts or in the Wizarding world?"
"No, I wouldn't do that."
"How did you come to Hogwarts?"
"From London by the Express, and I walked to the castle from the train."
"Were you accompanying any children, or sent to the train by any person?"
"No. My travel agent told me to expect the train of an older style."
"Had you ever before heard of Hogwarts?"
"No. I wouldn't have believed it."
"Since arriving at Hogwarts, what have been your actions?"
"I've been kept in my room. Sleeping, eating, reading, exercising, playing my lute. I tried to leave today but the gate wouldn't open. And undergoing Legilimency."
The Potions master stifled a snort. "Do you know what a Death Eater is?"
"I read about them here in a book. Their leader instigated a war to take over Britain's wizarding community. Evil people who believe in racial superiority and domination. Wizard Nazis."
"Are you a Death Eater or in any way associated with the Dark Lord?"
"No! That's awful!"
"Do you know any Death Eaters?
"No!"
"Are you a witch?"
"On Halloween, once. Mom spray-painted a broom black to go with the costume, and my candy bag was a plastic cauldron. It was fun." Snape rolled his eyes, while Dumbledore chuckled lightly at her dreamy expression.
"Do you know any real witches or wizards besides those present now?"
"No. Maybe that Hagrid man is. I don't know."
Snape considered his next line of questioning. "Do you know anyone who might have used magic or displayed unusual abilities?"
"My mother 'knew' things. She told my sister and me that a neighbor's child would die in a swimming accident, and a few days later, it happened. She used to know when her relatives were ill, or someone was coming to visit unannounced. We asked her how she knew, and she said she didn't know, she just did."
"Anyone else?"
"Her mother 'saw' and 'heard' things. So did her aunts. When I was very young and at family gatherings, they would tell stories about what had happened to them and other relatives. People used to go to one of my great-great-grandmothers to ask for advice, like she was some kind of gypsy."
"What of your father's side?"
"I only knew my grandparents, and they died before I was in school. Dad had a brother, but he was killed in Vietnam."
"Were any of them witches or wizards?"
"No, of course not."
"You have a sister. Does she 'know' things?"
"No. She thinks that's all silly."
"When you were a child, you liked to skip. Did you fly?"
"My sister said no one can, but I still recall feeling like I could when skipping."
"Do you have magical or unusual abilities?"
"I see things. I hear things. It's not magic."
"Who speaks to you?"
"God and saints."
He rolled his eyes. Dumbledore cleared his throat meaningfully, prompting Snape to continue. "What do you see and hear?"
"Instructions, encouragement. Sometimes warnings."
"How have you been warned?"
"Things some people would attribute to instinct or women's intuition, but it was more than that. I knew. I used to go out with friends some weekends. We always shared a car and drove home the same route. One night I felt very strongly that we shouldn't go home the same way and insisted we reverse the order. The driver and I were the last in the car when we rounded a bend and there was a terrible accident there. I'm sure it would have been us if we'd gone the usual way."
Snape's peripheral vision caught Minerva's doubtful expression. "Sometimes you have knocked at a door and joined a roomful of people," he continued. "Who are they, and where is that place?"
"Friends at a church."
"What kind of friends?"
"People who help me."
"Are any of those people Death Eater, witches, wizards, other folk or creatures or otherwise have magical abilities, or are associated with any?"
"No! They are good people. They don't want harm to come to anyone."
His eyes narrowed and he nearly hissed. "Why do some wear hoods?"
"It's the dress of those particular people's time and culture."
Snape turned to the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall with a raised eyebrow. Dumbledore nodded and asked, "What purpose do you think there is for you to be at Hogwarts?"
"I think to offer help. But I don't know what or how."
"Have you asked in your prayers?"
"Yes. After that barrier prevented me from leaving, I ask every day. All I'm told is that I will learn later, to be patient."
Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged glances. "Could that purpose in any way be harmful to Hogwarts or any of the students or staff here?" Snape inquired sternly.
"I first pray for protection so that negative influences don't affect my prayers. And I wouldn't purposely do anything to cause harm."
"You could do something harmful unknowingly," Snape pointed out.
"If I was uncertain about something, I would first ask Professor Dumbledore, McGonagall or you."
"Do you trust us?" Snape asked.
"I've been told that I must. So I do—but it's hard."
McGonagall winced sympathetically. A nod from Dumbledore informed Severus to end the session. Tipping up Nadia's head by the chin, Snape administered the antiserum, then monitored her. In a few minutes, she was alert.
"When do we start?" she asked.
"We're already finished, my dear. You did splendidly," Dumbledore assured her. He motioned to McGonagall, who picked up a glass and bottle of Firewhisky. "At times like this, I find a touch of drink can help settle the nerves," she suggested.
"Thank you, but no. I don't really care for hard liquor."
Snape snorted lightly. "I seem to recall you having Firewhisky the other night."
Her lips formed a tight line before she responded. "Under the circumstances, yes!"
"I'd recommend it again—under the circumstances." With McGonagall's smiled encouragement, Nadia nodded assent, and the witch poured a finger's worth.
Beasley sipped and Dumbledore looked to his top staff, who nodded. He leaned on the desk, folding his fingers together.
"My dear, you've answered all of our questions, and we are satisfied. We are convinced that you are who you say you are. We do believe that you had no knowledge of the wizarding world until arriving at Hogwarts. The how and why of your arrival is still something that we are investigating, but we believe your presence here is none of your doing."
Dumbledore leaned forward. "We also understand your desire to return home, and your confusion as to why that has not yet been possible. That is something we continue to examine. It is not by our action that you are unable to leave, and you have our word that we will return you to your rightful place as soon as possible."
The woman looked relieved upon hearing that promise.
"Based on our combined years of experience and knowledge of the wizarding world, however, it is our opinion that there is a reason you are here. There are powerful, ancient spells protecting Hogwarts from being entered by Muggles," the Headmaster continued. "We realize that you do not consciously know that reason, nor perhaps even unconsciously. I believe that in time, your purpose here will be revealed, and until then we all must be patient. Meanwhile, I will do everything in my power to make your stay here comfortable and to ensure that your home and job are secured."
How? Nadia thought. But, then again, these are wizards—they can do practically anything.
"I do believe," he smiled, "that you have another question. Please feel free to ask."
Embarrassment crossed her face before she spoke. "It's something about 'based on your combined years of experience' and one of the magic books you brought me. Would you mind telling me how old you are?"
Chuckling, Dumbledore extended and flipped over his hand, motioning that first Severus, then Minerva should answer.
Eyes blazing indignantly, Snape stared at his employer a moment before answering. "Thirty-three," he said flatly, looking straight at the wall behind the Headmaster.
"Sixty-six." Dumbledore lifted a brow at Minerva's answer. "I'm not 67 until next week, Albus," she said defensively.
"One hundred and forty-six," the Headmaster said brightly.
Nadia stifled a gasp. "I had a great-grandmother who lived to two months short of her one hundred and first birthday, and you look much younger than she did!" she exclaimed in awe.
"Have many people in your family lived to an old age?" McGonagall asked innocently.
"On my mother's side. She died relatively young—57—but most of the generations lived to be quite old, the women especially."
Minerva exchanged a meaningful look with Dumbledore, who inquired, "How are you feeling now?"
"A little tired, thank you. No side effects." She turned to Snape and took on a formal manner. "I appreciate that you were careful."
He merely nodded, managing to make it condescending.
"We should let you get your rest, my dear," Dumbledore said, standing. "Severus will see you back."
He didn't stir. "Why not send her back with a house elf?" he asked casually.
Any calmness Nadia had felt melted immediately. "A what?" Her voice was edged with hysteria.
"How else would your meals be delivered and your rooms cleaned?" Severus fired back over the soothing and chiding remarks Dumbledore and Minerva tried to make. "All taken care of while you sleep and bathe," he added spitefully.
"Enough, Severus!" the Headmaster admonished. Snape examined his nails, ignoring Dumbledore's glare. Then the old man turned to the Muggle. "It is true that the castle's, erm, primary support staff are elves. It is also true"—he shot another warning glance at the unrepentant Snape—"that they are gentle, harmless creatures that do everything they can to help us. Please be assured that you have absolutely nothing to fear from our house elves."
"Hogwarts elves strive to make all of us—guests included—as comfortable as possible with minimal intrusion," Minerva added kindly, sending her own remonstrative glance at her young colleague.
"None of the books mentioned this," a stunned Nadia mumbled, staring at the front of the Headmaster's desk.
Dumbledore nodded toward Snape, then returned his attention to the young woman. "Now, Professor Snape will escort you to your rooms. And he will exhibit the utmost gentlemanly manner."
Snape rose and stood silently next to Beasley as she got up.
In shock about elves and their presence in her rooms, Nadia automatically followed Snape across the room. She did not even hear Minerva call, "Good night, dear, rest well." Dumbledore and his deputy exchanged knowing looks as they went through the door, which Snape closed with a smart snap.
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