The Ghillie Dhu and the Dark Witch
Tommy Murray was on a mission. He stepped into the garden shed and shut the door quietly behind him, then groped in the semi-darkness for a hammer and a box of nails from the shelf. Tommy shoved the tools in his rucksack, as well as his father's small saw and a thick ball of rope, and slipped out of the shed – he knew he would get an endless lecture if his parents caught him playing with tools.
At 11, Tommy was all arms and legs, freckles scattered on his thin pointy nose, recent measles pockmarks on his face, and a shock of tangled blond hair. He positively hated school and relished the prospect of the summer holiday: he and his siblings had big plans, starting today. He ran across the garden and found them waiting by the side of the road. Ten-year-old Billie was the spitting image of her older brother, pockmarks included. Gus, 9, was short, stocky and equally pockmarked; he was trailing an old piece of corrugated iron he had found at the back of a farmer's yard. Collin, the youngest boy at 8, had his priorities right: a plastic bag containing sandwiches and apples was slung over his shoulder. Tagging along in a blue pinafore dress was little Paige, her silver blond hair blown around her face like dandelion fluff.
"Go home, Peanut. We dinnae want nae wee babby with us," Billie chided.
The little girl drew herself to her full three feet and a half. "I'm nae wee babby! I'm four, I'm a big lass!"
"All right then, but ye'll have tae work hard with us, Paige," Tommy told her sternly. "Are ye strong enough?"
"Aye, I am!" Paige proclaimed, flexing her small, lithe arms to show tiny lumps of muscles.
The band set off, Billie helping Gus carry the sheet of corrugated iron. The woods surrounding Strathconon was the world's best playground to them, and they had decided to build a proper cabin. The warm scent of pine mingled with the earthly tang of moss as they advanced between Scots pines, ash, beech and oak trees, ignoring the undergrowth scratching their legs. Finally, they reached a small clearing where a gnarled oak tree stood; its thickest branch, about five feet up, was almost parallel to the ground.
"t'is the perfect place," Tommy declared. "Let's all get some nice, long logs for the walls, aye?" Soon, a pile of thick branches were piled at the foot of the tree, and Paige trotted up to Tommy, proudly holding several sticks.
"Och, Peanut, those are titchy. We cannae do anything with that, lass," Tommy laughed. The little girl stomped off, an angry pout on her face, and went in search of better ones.
While Tommy and Billie built a secure frame for the cabin, Gus and Colin sawed the thinner logs to the right length. Tommy propped up the thickest, longest logs against the biggest branch of the oak tree, and Billie, sitting astride it, secured them with rope – her days in the Brownie Adventure had taught her excellent knotting skills. Her brothers proceeded to tie and nail the smaller logs in place.
As the day wore on, the walls of the cabin were completed, and the children started hoisting up the sheet of corrugated iron for the roof, nailing it in place. Finally, they stepped back to admire their construction, broad grins on their sweaty faces. Billie pushed her hair out of her face and asked, "Where's Paige?"
The boys stared at her, then at each other, and without another word, started searching the clearing and its surroundings, calling out, "Paige! Peanut! Where are you, lassie?" However, the small girl was nowhere to be found. Tommy sat on a stump, aghast. "Mam's going tae kill us."
Morag and Severus were walking down the road that led back from Carnoch to Little Scatwell, crossing the villages of Glenmeanie and Strathconon. They had gone up to Inverchoran to check on Elaine Frazer, whose leg had healed nicely, and she had given them a basketful of freshly-picked strawberries as thanks. The dry weather meant Morag favoured walking, rather than flying; and Severus found himself enjoying it much more than he had thought he would. He felt healthier, too, his limbs getting stronger from the daily exercise, and some colour had come to his sallow face from being outdoors. Morag enjoyed teasing him about it. "Being stuck indoors leaning over yer cauldron all day long, that daesna do ye any guid, Severus. Ye've become quite handsome noo ye're outside more," she'd whisper mischievously in his ear. He wasn't sure whether it pleased or irritated him, as he'd never thought of himself as handsome.
As they came around the bend into Strathconon, they spotted a group of villagers gathered in front of the school. A fair-haired woman with a thin pointy face hailed them urgently, as a long-legged skinny boy, who looked a lot like her, stared at his feet sheepishly.
"Morag! Can ye join us, lass? Mah wee lass, Paige, is missing!"
The young healer and her companion joined the group in a few long strides.
"What happened, Dot? When did she go missing?" Morag enquired.
"That's the worst of it," the mother said, her voice breaking, as she turned to her eldest son. "Would ye care tae tell us, Thomas Murray, how ye lost track of yer wee sister for a whole afternoon? Eh?" Tommy kept looking at his shoes; there was a red mark on his cheek where she'd slapped him in her anguish and fury earlier.
"All right, Dot, dinnae scold him noo, that's no use. Where did ye see yer sister last, laddie?" the healer asked in a kind, yet firm voice.
"Up in yon woods, mistress Ducan," the boy sniffed. "She was with us building a cabin, then she wasnae there anymore. I'm nae sure exactly when, coz we were busy, see."
"Too busy tae look after yer own sister?" the mother raged.
"All right, Dot, dinnae fash yersel' so," a man said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "She cannae have gone far. Me an' yer man'll search east of the woods with the dog. Malcom an' Dave will search west. Morag, ye ken yon hills like the back of yer hand, would ye go up tae the bothy an' see if oor wee Peanut's hiding there?"
"Of course," the healer replied. "Dot, it'd help me if ye had something of Paige for me, like a wee dress or a doll or anything like that."
"Sure," the mother replied, and dashed to her house, coming back with a stuffed cat whose cotton fur had mostly been loved off. Morag held it for a moment, eyes closed. "I cannae see where she is, Dot, but this I can tell ye: she is alive and unhurt."
The mother looked unconvinced, and as Severus and Morag set off for the hills, the wizard heard her grumble, "What a lot of blether. Fancies herself some kind of witch…" her voice trailed off. Severus glanced at Morag, who shrugged. "I'm telling the truth. I can sense the lass is unharmed, Severus; what I dinnae tell the mither is that I sensed some powerful magic around her too, and I dinnae like it much, because I dinnae ken who or what it is."
Severus frowned. "There are some spells I can use to detect magic, but I need a more precise idea of where to look."
"Aye, I ken. Let's go up tae the bothy and we'll take it frae there."
They walked quickly up the slope, scanning bushes and ditches as they went, checking behind rocks and inside crevices. The heather waved frantically in the wind, and grey clouds were gathering from the East. Sometimes Morag would stop, close her eyes, still clutching the toy cat, then move forward. Soon, a fine drizzle started to fall. "I hope we find her before the weather gets too bad," Severus muttered. After an hour's hike, the bothy was in view: a small, squat stone building with a heavy wooden lintel over a small door and a tiny window, generally used as shelter by shepherds or hikers for a night or two.
They pushed open the rickety door and peered inside. A crumpled blanket lay on a wooden bench, and empty cans and food packets littered a small table.
"A witch or wizard's been staying in here," Severus remarked. "I can sense magic."
"Aye, an' it wasnae friendly one," Morag added, pointing to the windowsill, where a black candle stub lay. "Those kind of candles are made with blood."
"Human?" Severus asked worriedly.
The healer sniffed the stub. "Nae. That's lamb's blood, thank the Great Mither."
"No sign of the little girl," Severus said. "Can you sense her whereabouts?"
"Aye, she isnae far, and there's magic around her, but nothing malevolent, not like in here. I wonder…" she furrowed her brow as she walked back out and looked up at a nearby outcrop of rock. Severus followed her as she approached it. It was a craggy overhanging boulder, covered in moss and lichen, with tall grass and weeds growing around its base. Some of the tangled weeds formed a great mass, its shape strangely resembling that of a crouching human being. The healer kept walking, slowly, carefully. When she was a few paces away, she curtsied and said, "Latha brèagha a tha ann, Ghillie Dhu!"
To Severus' surprise, the mass slowly rose to its feet. The creature was at least seven feet tall, his body and face covered in what looked like long, dark brownish-green grass. In his face gleamed beady black eyes, and he was carrying a bundle in his arms: a small girl with a halo of silvery blond hair, sleeping peacefully with her thumb in her mouth. Morag addressed the creature again in Gaelic, and the creature stepped forward and handed the child to a bemused Severus, who took her in his arms. Then, he turned to Morag and started signing with long hairy hands. Morag replied in Gaelic, and the strange conversation went on for a few minutes.
"Muire tha!" Morag finally said. "Gun robh mòran math agad, Ghillie Dhu!". She curtsied again, and the strange creature turned and walked up the slope until he disappeared from sight.
"What in the name of Merlin was that?" asked Severus.
"'twas the Ghillie Dhu, Severus. He's as old as the hills, a creature of the Highlands that rarely shows itself tae humans. He's shy, really, and mostly harmless except if ye cross him, that is – always a safe bet tae be polite. He's quite fond of bairns, in a good way." She paused. "He confirmed what we saw, Severus. The child was taken by a dark witch, he said. He chased her away and took the child, who, mercifully, was asleep and didnae come tae any harm."
They walked back to the village in silence, pondering what had happened. Once Paige had been reunited to her family ("Let me warn ye both, Thomas and Willow Murray, if ye ever take yer babby sister into the woods again, ye willnae be able tae sit for a week, hear me?"), then headed back to Hogsmeade.
"It's strange. As far as I know, all Death Eaters were either killed or captured at the battle of Hogwarts," Severus mused as they sat around a supper of bread and fresh goat cheese.
"There were witches and wizards meddling with dark magic long afore yer so-called Dark Lord arose, Severus. There once was a witch in the Highlands … but she left over ten years ago," she shook her head.
"Who was that?"
"Her name was Melanie Deane. My Mam took her in as she was in need of healing. She had a book of dark rituals called Caerimoniae Tempastatium. She said they could be used tae conjure storms, draughts and other natural catastrophes. But as I said, she moved tae the South of England a very long time ago. And I cannae remember she ever went after bairns – I was only a young lass and she didnae hurt me. It wouldnae have been a guid idea anyway, not with her health intae my Mam's hands."
"Why did your mother take her in?"
"I've told ye before, Severus. We took a sacred oath – we swore tae heal whoever needs healing, nae matter who they are."
"All the same, I think we should go back to your steading tomorrow and put up some basic wards around the houses, Morag. Do you think they will let us?"
"Aye, they trust even ye by noo. Just pretend they're some blessing on their hooses and that'll be fine," the young healer replied. Then, stroking his face tenderly, she added, "Thank ye for taking care of my people with me, Severus."
Glossary
arenae/cannae/couldnae/daesna/dinnae/isnae/shouldnae/willnae – aren't/can't/couldn't/doesn't/don't/isn't/shouldn't/won't
aye – yes
babby – baby
bairn – child
blether – rubbish, nonsense
bothy – a disused building used as shelter
Caerimoniae Tempastatium – rituals of the weather (Latin)
Dinnae fash yersel' – don't worry
frae – from
the Ghillie Duh – a creature of Scottish folklore, gentle and kind-hearted male fairy who was fond of children
Gun robh mòran math agad – thank you very much (Gaelic)
hoose – house
ken – know
lass – girl
Latha brèagha a tha ann – good day to you (Gaelic)
mah – my
Mam – Mum, Mom
mither – mother
Muire tha! – indeed! (Gaelic)
nae – no, not
noo – now
oor – our
tae – to
wee – little
ye/yer/yers – you/your/yours
yon – that … over there