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I Will Follow Thee	By : NiamhCostello Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1554 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
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- 5
Chapter Three: Set to Rights

A cock crowed some distance off, and then another, and another. A
lark�s joyous morning song celebrated the arrival of the sun�s first rays over the horizon, and Helgarda woke to these familiar sounds.

She had evidently slept well; the last thing she remembered was lying down on the soft bed and watching unbelievingly as it lengthened and widened magically to accommodate her height and the width of her reach. A long, warm nightgown waited for her on the bed; she had put it on, touched that someone had thought of her comfort. She drew the fluffy down comforter up to her shoulders as sleep claimed her.

She sat up. There was noise outside; someone was driving a wagon full of jars, or something that rattled and clinked. �Oi! Milkman!� someone shouted below. She smiled; someone was bringing milk to the castle. She looked around at the pretty room, with its wall hangings and draperies, large fireplace, clothespress, and what she believed to be a mirror, although it wasn�t bronze like her mirror at home.

�Good morning, dear!� A cheerful female voice greeted her. Helgarda sprang out of the bed and walked all around the room, looking for the owner of the voice. As she passed the mirror, the voice said, �Right here, dear.� She looked into the mirror; there inside it was a wraith of a face, a round, kindly face wearing a peculiar cap on its head.

�Are you talking to me?� asked Helgarda, puzzled.

�Of course! I�m your mirror, dear; of course I talk to you! I�m so glad you�ve slept well; you were exhausted last night, so I kept my peace.
Now that you�re arisen, dear, it�s time to dress and go down to breakfast. You�ll love the breakfast.�

�Everyone keeps praising the food, and if breakfast is anything like last night�s feast, they�re right.� Helgarda usually woke up hungry, and so she was.

Helgarda looked around for the clothes she had worn the day before. They were gone; perhaps the house-elves were washing them? She had never had a selection of clothing in her life; only one set of everything, and a good gown for special occasions. As something wore out, it was replaced. She looked in the clothespress and found a skirt, a shift, a tunic and undergarments that looked large enough to fit her. She
turned to put them on her bed � and there was little Olaf, the elf (she must remember to call him a House Elf), just finishing smoothing the coverlet and plumping up the pillows. He bowed.

�Good morning, Princess, Olaf is glad you rested well,� he said. Helgarda knelt down in front of the little creature. �Olaf, is that what you are
supposed to be wearing?� she asked him, indicating his garment.

�Olaf is h to to wear pillowslip,� he said. �Is big argument about what House Elves is supposed to be wearing. Olaf not care, Olaf is here to help, Princess.

�Thank you, Olaf,� she said, shooing him towards the door. �I like to
dress by myself.�

�Princess, you hollers if you needs Olaf, for anything,� said the House Elf. With a snap of his fingers, he was gone.

Helgarda put on her new clothes, which fitted as if her mother, Walfryda, had made them for her.

�That�s lovely, dear,� said the mirror. �There�s a leather girdle for you, on your bed.�

Helgarda turned around: there was indeed a leather girdle on her bed, and it had not been there a moment ago. She picked it up and turned it around in her hands.

�Mirror, this is my girdle that I had not yet worn � my brother brought it for me from Iberia.�

�Well, dear, your brother would be pleased if you wore it.�

Helgarda put on the girdle and strapped her eating dagger to it.
She was pleased to see that a small leather reticule, just the size to
hold a kerchief, hung from the girdle.

As she turned, a hand pulled her skirt. She looked down.

�Princess, is you ready to go to breakfast? Olaf take you down to
Great Hall,� the little creature said.

These staircases are very ill behaved, thought Helgarda. I suppose there�s a reason why the Headmaster allows them to be so unruly.
She followed Olaf as he led her towards the Great Hall. As they
came round a corner, her sharp ears heard whispering. A sense of foreboding pricked the inside of her head. She stopped, and put a hand on Olaf�s bony shoulder, her finger to her lips. Olaf scurried behind her and hid his face in her skirts.

Soundlessly, she moved forward and then flattened herself against a pillar. She heard all too clearly: three boys were plotting something more than mischievous. �Don�t be so stupid, Crabbe,� said one officious voice. �Just do as you�re told, you idiot; you bump into him, and Goyle,
you substitute the phials, and then stand back before his cauldron explodes.�

�But, Draco,� one of the voices, the petulant one, said, �He�s really fast on his feet; he�ll grab me anll �ll ��

�You�ll do as you�re told!� Draco was the ringleader; from his tone, it was clear that he was used to command. As she listened, a plot unfolded; a nasty plot to get Harry (the Harry she had met, with Hermione and Ron?) into serious trouble with one of his Professors, and possibly do him physical harm. She took a quick glance round the corner, then drew back again: it was the nasty-faced blond boy and his two dullard companions.

Helgarda had heard enough. Smoothly, she rounded the corner, reached out one long arm, grabbed the collar of the blond-headed boy, and lifted him off his feet. His eyes widened, he blanched and his lip began to quiver. �I didn�t do anything!� he whined.

�You�ve not done anything yet,� roared Helgarda. �Nor will you, little
brat! Plotting and planning another�s misfortune, I�ll not have it! Neither
will your Headmaster!� The other two shrank against the wall, rembling. Holding Draco at arm�s length, with his feet three feet above the floor, she marched him downstairs into the dining hall and approached the Masters� Table. Chatter ceased immediately
as the children watched their fellow student being transported in the most
embarrassing manner � in front of the entire school!

�Headmaster Dumbledore, I caught this child plotting another�s misfortune,� she said. �The other two are probably still upstairs
in the corridor, but this is the one who gives orders, and he should be
instructed in the foolishness of his ways.�

Albus Dumbre�sre�s eyes twinkled. This was a pretty sight, indeed: the beautiful half-giantess had the little Malfoy prat by the collar. She held him easily, suspended in mid air. He was white, shaking, and as Dumbledore watched, he began to snivel. �I didn�t do anything! Wait till my father hears about this, you�ll be sorry, you�ll all be sorry!� He wiped his nose with his sleeve, and Helgarda gave him a good shake.

�Uncouth child, to wipe your nose on your garments!� she scolded. �Where�s your kerchief?� She gave him another shake; one more and he�d be appropriately shamed in front of his fellows. She shook him one more time, and the hapless plotter pissed down his leg with fright.

�Now,� said Helgarda, setting him down, �you shall clean up this mess you made, and then you shall apologise in front of all the children and your Masters, for the plotting you attempted against one of your fellow students.� She looked at Dumbledore; he put a finger alongside his nose and nodded sagely.

�You heard the lady, Draco,� he said. �It�s fitting punishment for conspiracy, and let that be a lesson to you.� A House Elf ran up to Draco with a pail and a mop, then snapped his fingers and disappeared. There was general muttering, and then tittering, then chuckling and finalltrigtright laughter as the nasty boy began his discipline.

Helgarda dusted off her hands and walked to her seat at the Masters� Table. Professor McGonagall, to her right, patted her hand. �Good morning, Helgarda,� she said. �I�m pleased that you set the Malfoy child to rights. Deserves a good caning, actually, but I think your ways are quite effective.�

�Thank you,� said Helgarda. �We don�t strike our children, but we are very strict with them. It may mean their lives if they don�t know how to follow orders, cooperate with their fellows, show courtesy to their elders and kindness to those who are younger or weaker.�

Hagrid sat down in his chair, his eyes twinkling. �Good morning, Miss Helgarda,� he rumbled. �I was watchin� from the door when yer came in carryin� that nasty little git like he was a piece o�rotten fish.� He winked at Helgarda, chuckling. �Myself, I would�ve tossed him in the lake and let the giant squid play wi�him.�

Professor Hooch, sitting next to McGonagall, leaned forward. �If he
wasn�t worth his weight in galleons on the Quidditch pitch, I would�ve
given him a toothbrush, a pail of Javel water and made him clean the toilets on the classroom floors--�

�Pfah!� Little Professor Flitwick interrupted her. �He�s got to be taught a lesson; he�s had one coming for three years! Now, I would�ve sent
him over to you, Hagrid, to muck out the Hippogriff stalls!�

�No, please!� cried Helgarda. �He�s only a little boy. His parents should be firm with him. He�s probably spoiled.�

�Indeed,� said Professor McGonagall. �Spoiled rotten by his parents, and favoured by his Head of House. No wonder he�s so obnoxious.�

Helgarda looked over the table. The boy had finished cleaning up
the floor, and a House Elf took back the bucket and mop. The child�s narrow little face was a study in misery. She looked carefully at him;
there was sorrow in his blue-grey eyes, fear as well. He had courage, though; he turned to the long tables and looked directly at Harry. �I apologise for plotting to explode your cauldron in Potions class,� he said. Then he turned away, biting his lip and wringing his hands. He looked over at Helgarda, and then at Professor Dumbledore.

�You may go, Mister Malfoy,� said the Headmaster, and the boy slunk out, head down.

The Headmaster carefully placed a boiled egg in an elaborate eggcup, pointed his wand at it, and neatly caught the shell-top as it flew off. He
beamed. �Beheaded my egg, I did!� he said.

Helgarda watched in fascination as her bowl filled with steaming porridge. She noticed that everyone�s plate seemed to fill by itself; she had been thinking about porridge, had she not?

�Headmaster,� she said hesitantly, �I�ve seen that one only has to wish for something in this place, and straightaway it�s there. Does that happen with anything, and for everyone?�

Dumbledore adjusted his cap. �At a certain level, that is true, my dear,� he said. �It�s much simpler to be able to have what you need, in a basic sense, without any fuss or effort. It saves a great deal of time, as well.�

�Yes,� added Professor McGonagall. �The castle knows what you need; it is one of its more obvious magical properties.�

�Well,� said Helgarda, and she leaned forward towards the Headmaster, �Does the castle know how much I need to go home?� She felt Hagrid�s arm around her shoulder and his hand over hers, and instinctively she leaned into his comforting touch.

�Helgarda, your disappearance from your father�s holding was not an accident,� said Dumbledore. �You were deliberately taken away. What has me puzzled is how you came here; I don�t think this was your destination. Come to my office at mid-morning, and I�ll tell you what I�ve found so far. I may have some further information then, as well.�

Helgarda trembled. �Thank you, Headmaster,� she whispered. �I
have been longing for some news.� Regaining her dignity, she sat up straight and patted Hagrid�s hand. �Thanks to you, good friend,� she said.

�I�ll do all I can to help,� promised Hagrid. His bright black eyes
glittered with tears. �I have to tell yer, Miss Helgarda, I�ll fill the lake to overflowin� with tears if ye go away, but I know ye must.�

�You are more than a good friend,� said Helgarda. She leaned against his shoulder. �Would that I could take you with me!�

Headmaster Dumbledore pushed his spectacles up on his nose and traded a significant glance with McGonagall. This was not going to be
easy, even at best.

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I Will Follow Thee