Principles and Honor
CHAPTER 12
Can't go home? Stunned, Nadia felt her stomach clench in shock and dismay.
One hand resting comfortingly on hers, Dumbledore wandlessly directed the forgotten teacup to the stunned young woman, whose vision seemed to have blurred.
"Here, my dear," he said, offering the hot beverage. "Have a sip. You'll feel better."
She obeyed automatically. As the liquid filled her with warmth, she absently identified its fruity flavor as chamomile. It seemed a comforting gesture from the Headmaster, who watched her with concern.
"The office for which you work is merging with a larger firm 'across town,' as DeVawn reports," he explained gently. "Your position is, unfortunately, redundant."
Nadia looked up from the table top at which she had been staring. "‛Redundant'?"
"With office consolidation, your position will not be needed. I am sorry."
Clutching her forehead, she leaned forward, elbow on the crisp white linen. Her free hand's fingers suddenly loosened around the cup's handle.
"Miss Beecham, I assure you that your flat will remain protected, in your possession. You have no need to worry about your home."
Her shoulders sank as she sharply exhaled, and she slowly shook her head. "Not without rental payment," she replied ruefully.
"Please, my dear. Look up." As she did so, Dumbledore locked eyes. "DeVawn is gifted in both Potions and Charms. With my instruction, she will secure your flat so that it is protected and unnoticed until such time as you return." He waited for her to absorb that concept. "The charm will be keyed to you, so that it is lifted upon your return. As far as the owner and your neighbors are concerned, it will be as if there is no 'extra' flat in the building. Rent will not accumulate, nothing will be touched. Likewise, your bank accounts will be protected."
Her mind accepted Dumbledore's promise with relief . The many remarkable things she'd witnessed at Hogwarts made his wild proposition ridiculously plausible. Still, the job loss was worrisome, let alone the suspicion that had been growing for days that she might be trapped at Hogwarts.
As if reading her mind, Dumbledore added, "When you return—and one day, you will—the landlord and neighbors will take it all in stride, as if you'd always been there."
Her responding smile quickly faded. "I take it, then, that you haven't figured out a way for me to leave."
The white-haired man nodded and floated a plate of gingerbread toward her. Shadows were beginning to lengthen across the table and a breeze across the Astronomy Tower, prompting him to cast a Warming Charm over their seating area.
"No, not yet," he said apologetically. "I had hoped you are enjoying your stay and work here. Minerva is particularly impressed with the Ministry-related work you've been doing. It's been a great assistance."
Nadia felt an appreciative glow in her chest. "Thank you. It's been very interesting. And I must say the rooms and food have been wonderful."
"So may I toast to an agreement that you will continue to assist?" he asked teasingly, lifting his cup.
Again, her smile faded, and this time her nut-brown eyes watered. "You're taking care of my apartment. But what about everything else? My family? Friends? What am I going to do?"
Her lips trembled, and he again took one of her hands. "Your concerns are very understandable, and I've given this some thought," Dumbledore assured her. "DeVawn tells me that you are quite religious—retreats at convents, and you actually spoke with your priest about possibly becoming a nun?"
Her jaw dropped then shut, and she took a deep breath. "Yes …."
"Perhaps this is a good time to take the plunge—at least as far as everyone else is concerned," he said, peering over half-moon spectacles.
Her forehead furrowed. "I don't understand. You mean, DeVawn is going to a convent?"
To his credit, Dumbledore didn't laugh. "DeVawn will remain at your job another two weeks, until your office closes. I'm sure your family and friends will wonder what you plan to do."
"Ah." She leaned back in the slated-wood chair. "My friends know I've gone on retreats, and my priest knows, of course." She looked down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap. "It's not something my family would understand, but they'd probably be … relieved that I was being 'taken care of.'"
His bushy white eyebrows rose inquiringly. "Is it a story with which you would be comfortable? Or do you have another suggestion?"
Nadia shook her head. "I guess it makes sense. There's a contemplative order that seemed right. I've thought about it, but—." She looked up at him. "Yes."
Dumbledore nodded. "Arrangements will be made, your family and friends will be informed, and there will be no cause for worry—neither your family or friends or your behalf," he said firmly but kindly. "And I will ask DeVawn to send some of your things. Do you have any requests?"
Nadia embraced the opportunity. "Yes, please! I need more clothes, and some of my books—she'll recognize the most used ones."
"Your insights into our Muggle Studies program would be appreciated," Dumbledore said. "Do you have anything that would be helpful in such an endeavor?"
"History books and the laptop."
He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. "Lap top?"
"It's a portable computer. Uh, a machine that can be used for writing, computation, research. Mine has discs with an encyclopedia and other resources."
Ah, one of those items Muggle children want to bring to Hogwarts. Rather like the transitoid radios students used to listen to Chubby Squares and the Elvis chap. The oft-repeated statement that the school's intense magic interfered with electronics was a useful excuse for prohibiting Muggle electrical gadgetry. In fact, a highly skilled witch or wizard could fix that problem, of course, and could make nearly anything work without electricity.
"So long as it is not used in the presence of students," Dumbledore stated seriously.
"All right," she agreed. "Oh, and the coffee maker. I enjoy making my own in the morning."
He smiled. "Done. I will submit your 'order' to DeVawn tonight." Looking out onto the wind-swept lake, he set down his fork. "Hagrid expects a frost tonight. And I must attend to my office before dinner. Are you feeling better about your situation?" He pulled back her chair, allowing her to rise, so that he could escort her to the door.
"Yes, thank you," Nadia said graciously if shakily. "You're making an unusual situation, well, almost normal."
Dumbledore laughed. "That could be the very description of Hogwarts."
oOo
She didn't make it all the way to her room. Dumbledore walked Nadia to the staircase leading to the Entrance Hall. Feeling light-headed from his news, she instead backtracked to the armory where silvery figures gleamed from both torches and late afternoon light coming from clerestory windows. She sat on a knight's granite base and buried her face in her hands.
Right, Nadia. It's been fun being here, but it's not a game anymore. I'm stuck here. She looked opposite to a figure wielding a mace in one hand, a reproduction wand in the other. The thought that she was the only normal, wandless human within miles sank her further into despair. I've got to look after myself.
Job security gone. No real home. Effectively lost to friends and family. Isolated amongst strange people and surrounded by magic and dangers she didn't comprehend. Why is this happening?
Then she had the crashing thought that it might not be accidental.
Did someone bring me here, or send me here? Is this all an elaborate ruse so that I just "disappear" without explanation? She shook her head. I don't think I know any witches or wizards outside of this place. Why would anyone want me to disappear? Isn't my presence here, in this Wizarding World, a bigger problem for Dumbledore than my absence from the real world? A crooked smile formed. "The real world." What's real? Perhaps Hogwarts exists in another dimension ….
She'd just have to make the best of it. Until Dumbledore found a way to send her back—and surely he would—she would try to look at this as a unique growing experience.
And what bitter irony that now that I have the opportunity to try the life of a religious, it's entirely fake!
Guilt panged her. She could pray anywhere and, if anything, this was a reason to seek protection, consolation, and guidance. Prayer could only help, and it seemed that she would have a great deal of time for it.
Deep, slow breathing and the earlier cups of chamomile tea helped to calm her, but she still found it difficult to clear her mind. A mental image of Snape appeared, and she shivered. The man's appearance and demeanor would make anyone doubt their safety. Devawn had indicated that some wizarding folk are religious. Surely the caustic Potions master wasn't among them—unless he was a devil worshipper, Nadia thought.
All shall be well.
The consoling phrase made famous in Julian of Norwich's visions* came internally, and swept away much of the fear she felt. She clung to the words, rocking slightly as she whispered them over and over, and concentrating on the love her faith brought her.
A throat cleared a few feet away, and she looked up. Filius Flitwick stood at nearly eye level, his face etched with concern. "Are you feeling unwell?"
Unable to find words, she smiled wanly.
"During our House Heads meeting this morning, Albus explained your situation," Flitwick said, chivalrously ignoring her startled jolt. "He wants all four of us to be prepared to help. He expected that you would be downcast at the news."
"Did he send you here, then?"
Filius chuckled. "I had no idea you were here. My classroom is down the hall, and I'm on the way to dinner. Would you like to join me? Septima usually sits next to me but announced at luncheon that she would be out this evening. I'd be delighted to converse with you."
"Thank you." Nadia rose, brushing dust from the back of her skirt, and began walking alongside him. For such a little man, he moved quickly and gracefully. They soon found themselves in a throng of Gryffindors, and on the ground floor entered a wider mix of students headed toward the Great Hall.
oOo
Snape ignored the pale woman taking the seat next to Flitwick. As far as he was concerned, Filius was welcome to take the Muggle under his wing. The head of Ravenclaw house was accustomed to Muggle-borns and, in Snape's opinion, coddled the homesick. Perhaps he can snap her out of what undoubtedly will be a breakdown without someone's intervention.
He turned his attention to a more worthy matter, that of surreptitiously monitoring the house tables while eating his abstemious meal.
oOo
Filius introduced Nadia to Professor Kettleburn, who apologized for being in a hurry because he had "to tend to the Mackled Malaclaws." After the Magical Creatures instructor excused himself, Flitwick launched into a First-Year Charms overview with wit and verve. She was quickly drawn in, asking naïve questions that he treated with respect. Before she knew it, dinner was over and she had eaten well.
"Do you play chess?" Flitwick asked, as they both rose.
"It's been some years," she said.
The little wizard's eyes brightened. "Students interested in learning and playing gather in my classroom most Saturday mornings at ten. You're most welcome to join us."
Nadia smiled. "Why, thank you. I just may do that—but I may watch more than try my hand at first."
"Quite all right! That's the best way." Pursing his lips a moment, he added, "Oh, we play both wizard and Muggle chess. Something for everyone. You, there! Acherton!" Flitwick suddenly propelled forward, zeroing in on a stocky, dark-haired boy about to dash into the dungeons.
While Flitwick stopped to confer with the student, Nadia lingered in the Entrance Hall. Tonight she dreaded the hours before bed, and she considered whether to find some paperwork to distract herself. Two redheaded boys ran past, shaking her from her reverie, and she headed upstairs.
oOo
Minerva was preparing for a meeting, directing chairs into a semi-circle before her desk. The office was cheerfully, if loudly, decorated in tartan, pointing to its occupant's pride in her Scots heritage.
"Good evening, Nadia," the elder woman said, looking up from her wandwork. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"I thought I might get an early start on tomorrow's work." Nadia nodded toward the full box set apart for items tasked for her.
McGonagall's tight lips spread into a gentle, knowing smile. She picked up and handed over several bundled parchments. "Depending on how far you get with these, you may have time to observe Transfiguration classes tomorrow," she suggested.
"Oh, that would be nice. Good night," Nadia replied, and turned to leave.
"By the way," Minerva called, stopping Nadia at the door. "I've asked Severus to mix up a bit of that Migraine Potion for you. It's best to have it on hand."
Nadia blinked back tears triggered by her roiling emotions and Minerva's kindness. "T-Thank you," she stuttered. "I'm under a bit of strain."
The tall witch walked forward and laid a hand on the young woman's shoulder. "If you have any needs, don't be afraid to ask. And I often enjoy a wee visit and dram before heading to bed," she added with a crooked smile.
Nadia laughed at the unexpected admission. "I'll take you up on that, soon." Steps and voices neared the closed door. "I'd better get going."
"One minute." Minerva motioned for her to step aside. "You ought to meet the prefects."
She opened the door, and six upper-year students filed in, lining up in front of the chairs. Before taking her place behind the desk, McGonagall motioned for Nadia to step to the room's side, which the younger woman did, clutching parchments to her chest.
"Good evening," the teacher began.
"Good evening, Professor McGonagall," the group answered in unison.
"I'm sure you have all seen Miss Beecham in the school." McGonagall indicated Nadia with her left hand. "Before we begin, I'd like for her to have the opportunity to meet you."
As she named each student, Nadia walked along, greeting and shaking their hands. She was impressed with how bright-eyed and friendly the group was, with the possible exception of the lanky Sixth-Year boy. In her short time at Hogwarts, she had already heard much about the Weasley twins' antics, and this was their no-nonsense elder brother. At age 16, his handshake already was firm and corporate.
"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Nadia said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I wish you a productive meeting."
As she pulled the door shut, she heard McGonagall invite them to sit, and the responding rustle of school robes and chair creaks.
oOo
Students on their way to and from the library passed her on the stairs and in the corridors, and she spotted several younger ones in an alcove, bent in a circle. She moved closer to see what they were doing.
About a dozen students, whose ties identified them as primarily from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, were gathered around two kneeling boys, who were playing marbles. Nadia smiled at the sight of children playing an ordinary game—until a horrible brown goo flew from one of the colored stones, splattering across one player's face. She grimaced as the children laughed, and the victim wiped the slime with his robe sleeve.
Turning away, Nadia headed for the first floor. Light from the high-flaming torches danced along the castle's stone walls, and caused the jewels in the house hourglasses below to sparkle prettily. While appreciating the prettily sparkling house hourglasses below, she nearly ran into a tall woman heading up the main stairway.
"Oh! I'm sorry," Nadia said, quickly moving aside.
The woman, whom she didn't recognize, drifted past without a word, leaving a freezing chill in her wake. Nadia's eyes widened and she spun around.
The monochromatic figure glided upward, without its feet ever touching the stair treads.
Nadia ran the rest of the way to the relative safety of her room, scattering on the first floor landing a group of girls giggling over a note one had received in History of Magic class.
oOo
Snape waited a decent interval after Dumbledore's exit before sweeping out of the Great Hall to follow him to the Headmaster's office.
The old man seemed to expect him. "Come in, Severus," he responded to Snape's sharp rap, and he was already pushing the bowl of lemon sherbets across the desk as the Potions master strode over the worn Persian rug that outlined the Headmaster's central work area.
Snape's lank black hair swung from side to side as he declined the offer of sweets. Plopping into the chair, he glared as Dumbledore popped a candy into his mouth.
"Are you going to put any magical restrictions on the woman?" the hawk-nosed younger man demanded.
Dumbledore cocked his head in puzzlement.
"Blast! You know what I'm talking about!" Snape spat. "The Muggle."
"Oh. Quite." Dumbledore sat back, his face softening. "Poor girl. She took the news rather well, I think. Then, again, she must be in shock. Minerva and Filius will keep an eye on her. How is the Migraine Potion coming?"
"The combination of keeping the Golden Trio under scrunity, cleaning up Lockhart's Defense messes, and the continued, unnecessary presence of an incompetent Muggle in my classroom is enough to give me a migraine!" Pressing on the chair's arms, Snape thrust himself to his feet and began pacing. "She does not belong here! She is a danger to herself and others. Her presence will bring unwanted attention to the school." Turning on his heels, Snape's eyes narrowed at his employer. "I find it hard to believe there is no way to return the woman to her world."
"Yes, yes, Severus. I am well aware of your concerns," the Headmaster said evenly. Had he been Phineas Nigellus Black, he would toss Snape out on his ear for such a disrespectful display. Of course, Black would agree with Snape's sentiments, and would have had no qualms handing her over to Filch for confinement in one of the caretaker's specially outfitted dungeon rooms.
"I am confident that both Minerva and you will carry out my instructions to supervise, observe and, if necessary, protect Miss Beasley," Dumbledore stressed. "I will work to minimize her impact at Hogwarts and try to find a way to return her. But there are other matters that also require my attention, as I am sure you can understand. So we shall put this particular one to rest."
Snape's mouth twisted sourly. It was useless pressing the point. The Headmaster often trivialized Snape's legitimate concerns, the Marauders being an Exhibit Number One. He often wondered just what the old wizard would have done if Lily Potter or another "respected" student—anyone except Severus Snape or another Slytherin—had been the one to report James Potter's gang's arrogant, wand-happy ways.
"The potion will be ready by mid-morning," a very still Snape answered.
"Very good, Severus." Dumbledore picked up and extended the candy bowl. "Are you sure you won't take one?"
Snape sniffed, folding his arms. "I do not favor sweets." As you know, he thought bitterly.
"Ah, Pomona informs me that the puffapods will be ready for harvest in the next few days," Dumbledore said brightly. "That should be just in time to prepare fresh antidote for the Swelling Solution lesson, yes?"
The younger man controlled his anger spectacularly. "Yes," he replied. "Just as we planned when developing last spring's planting schedule."
Dumbledore's noncommittal smile signaled an end to the interview. Snape stood and nodded stiffly. "Good night, Headmaster."
"And to you, Severus," the older man said kindly.
oOo
Nadia attempted to develop a routine to make her Hogwarts life as normal as possible. Each day opened with prayer and scripture reading, a sensible breakfast in the Great Hall, followed by work as assigned by McGonagall. She made a point of joining colleagues for the morning break in the staff room and attending lunch so that she was fortified for whatever (generally unpleasant) tasks Snape assigned. After dinner (to which she was sometimes late, thanks to Snape), she said the vesper prayers, then visited the library, played the lute, read, bathed and meditated.
Contemplative prayer was difficult. Just as it seemed she might achieve a state of inward vision, fear and uncertainty would well within her. She would mentally repeat, "Lord, help me, protect me," until the apprehension eased.
The only things she received in prayer that seemed sure were that all would be "well," which produced some calmness, and the confusing enjoinder to "help" the dark-eyed off-putting Potions man. She followed Snape's instructions as best she could, cleaning slime-grimed glassware, stocking shelves with new containers of grotesqueries, and endlessly scrubbing floors, tables, sinks and walls. Nadia did—at times reluctantly—pray for the man. "I don't know his needs, Lord, but you do. Please help him."
About ten days after her Astronomy Tower meeting with Dumbledore, Nadia returned to her rooms to discover that the sitting room's bookcases were fuller. DeVawn had made good on her promise, forwarding personal belongings to Dumbledore, who then had the house elf Liddy unpack them. Nadia ran her hands along several spines, happy to see familiar items.
In the bedroom, the wardrobe's doors had been left open, and Nadia rushed to see what much-needed clothing had been sent from her Portland apartment. Her face fell. Inside were old bridesmaid dresses in a rainbow of satins and laces, a floor-length black skirt and white blouse that had been a college choir uniform, a robe and gown, an out-of-style suit, a puffy winter jacket, and three pairs of shoes. Sweaters, underclothes, and other assorted belongings peeked from half-open drawers.
Bridesmaid dresses! Nadia thought. There are perfectly normal clothes DeVawn could have sent. What was she thinking?
She turned dejectedly to the bed and sat, picking up two pieces of parchment. The smaller of the two read:
The electric equipment will be delivered after Professor Flitwick charms them. Yours, Albus Dumbledore
Next, she unfolded the fine, pale yellow stationery.
Dear Nadia,
As Albus has explained, your flat and all possessions are magically secured, awaiting your safe return. Thank you for writing the letters to your family and friends; the correspondence has been sent, and you are now considered on your way to entering the cloistered St. Margaret's Monastery**. Your former employers wrote fine letters of recommendation, which I have stored in the desk with your professional and financial records. Please find enclosed several of your possessions, including some of your clearly cherished books. I hope they bring you both enjoyment and comfort.
I regret that I cannot present these items in person. My newest grandchild will arrive soon, and I have promised to help my daughter and son-in-law who have become frazzled by parenthood's looming reality.
I realize the clothing selections may seem strange. However, they fit in with the wizarding world, which in fashion is decades—if not centuries—behind the Muggles. (You may have noticed.)
It has been an honor to assist you. Be confident, and may you find Hogwarts' hospitality warm.
Affectionately,
DeVawn Chittleham
Gingerly holding the delicate paper, Nadia reread DeVawn's missive. More than Dumbledore's Astronomy Tower conversation, it seemed to finalize her circumstances. This was to be home, for months, perhaps longer. And, she thought grudgingly, those yucky dresses will fit in here.
Nadia was sickened by the sudden realization that she hadn't specified the need for any medicines or personal care items. The supply she had was dwindling quickly, intended for a two-week vacation. She began to mentally berate herself for such forgetfulness, but something made her stop.
Of course. Minerva said Professor Snape is making the Migraine Potion. And there is a hospital wing if medical care is needed. The house-elf kept the bathroom supplied with basics, such as bath soap, shampoo and feminine napkins. I'll be out of face lotion and makeup soon. The idea of appearing in public without at least mascara and lipstick made her shudder.
Like Scarlet O'Hara, she decided to think about that another day.
oOo
A/N: Many thanks to my beta, Noleme, for wise and clarifying edits and suggestions contributing to this humble tale.
* Julian of Norwich was a medieval Christian and mystic who is known for her writings about the visions she experienced. The church where she was an anchoress still exists in Norfolk, England. Her Anglican feast day is May 8, and May 13 in the Roman Catholic Church. Learn more at .org/.
** Fictional place name.