Based on the Harry Potter Series By J. K. Rowling
Chapter 30 “ Olga’s Story
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“I never claimed to be the voice of Joshua until late in the fourth century, by your calendar. For almost three hundred years I had listened to the wandering clerics talk about someone they had never personally known. Here I was, having talked to Him myself, after His resurrection, prepared to give my life to Him. My few feeble attempts to speak with villages about Joshua were a joke, few took me seriously and others made up evil stories about me to keep me away. So I made a choice that brought me here today, but what good it has done me, or anyone, I cannot say.”
“I began to think and plan my future like I had never done before. If I was going to follow the way of Joshua I had to first give up my ideas of being a warrior. Not a very difficult decision, was it? Besides, who would follow a child? And turning from violence was not difficult for me; by nature I had always thought myself a peaceful person. I only wish I had made this decision when I first came to know Joshua.”
“As I sat thinking about my change in attitude, I clearly remember it being a bitterly cold winter day; a plan began to take shape. It was, oddly enough, this bitter winter day that gave me the answer I thought I was looking for. (Though my body had always been impervious to the ravishes of the elements, I did enjoy a blazing fire on these cold days.)”
”So I sat, contemplating the fire and the snow; the hot and the cold; the comfortable and the uncomfortable; the dark of winter and the long days of summer. Around and around in my mind these visions swirled until finally an idea formed: I would bring others to Joshua by giving them a warm, comfortable place where they wouldn’t have to worry about the common problems of life. I would give the people something of what I have to make life easier, and in turn they could focus on Joshua. This was a utopian vision of the world, but one in which I could lend the full force of my powers.”
“It is at this point of my existence where I made two very important choices. One was very good, the other, very bad. Sadly, it was not the last time I made a very bad decision.”
“I spent the next three years traveling in the northern areas of Britain, a place I had never spent much time and I knew to be sparsely populated. As I wondered about, looking for a place to test my ideas in solitude, I encountered a man by the name of Osiris Olivander.”
“Olivander was just recently of age and had studied and practiced the pagan religion of the Celts. We enjoyed each other’s company and found ourselves traveling together for almost a year. Osiris was the first person with whom I shared my secrets. If he was ever uncomfortable about being near me he never showed it; I was a ‘creation of the Earth’ in his Druidic views. I didn’t argue the point; it seemed his view of me was very similar to that of Joshua.”
“When I told Osiris about my apparent immortality, he spent a great deal of time exploring this with me. We also spoke of my curses and I showed him my parchments and how I had recorded all my powers. He was impressed and asked to study some of them. After doing so, and about a week later, I was watching Osiris practicing one of my simple fire curses. Pointing to a dried up dead shrub a few meters away he spoke the words of the curse but nothing happened. As I approached him he tried again, but this time it worked. He tried a number of additional times and every one worked, until I walked away.”
“Osiris had a type of mind that you would call ‘analytical,’ so he immediately guessed that his successful performance was not due to his powers but my powers being channeled through him. After a number of further trials, and a badly scorched landscape, Osiris’s guess was proven correct. Talking about this channeling of power over a meal that evening we decided to test another idea.”
“The next morning Osiris and I returned to the scorched field and repeated the same tests we had run the previous day, all with the same results. Then we decided to test his new idea; I was to inflict a curse that would give Osiris the same powers I had to start fires. I had never even thought of this before last night so we spent many hours talking, trying to word the curse properly; we came up with a number of choices. Each one we tested was unsuccessful so we had to start again. Over the next few days we enjoyed no success at all in our attempts and were rapidly becoming frustrated. Osiris would pour over my documents looking for clues and I would test different wordings and inflections, but to no avail.”
“We might have given up at this point but for a unexpected event; while walking to a nearby wood to hunt for food, Osiris badly cut his arm in a fall. These types of injuries were easy for me to mend and I took his arm and spoke the words of healing. The bleeding stopped and Osiris thanked me for my quick action. As I watched him clean the blood off his arm I saw a familiar look in his face; it was the look he had when there was an idea forming in his head.”
“Forgetting the blood on his arm, Osiris jumped up and asked me to repeat the curses we had used to attempt the power transfer, but this time he had me touch his body as I spoke the words. The idea worked on the first try, I was able to transfer power to him by touch. With this success we spent the rest of that day trying variation on the wording, the placement of my hands, and various intonations. We also tried revoking the power; everything worked. We were delighted with our accomplishment and I promised Osiris other powers for his assistance; these I later shared with him.”
“Over the following weeks we made a number of significant changes to this simple curse. We changed the wording, the hand motions we used, and we spoke about standardizing the language used for the incantations. Prior to this I had used a mixture of my native tongue, ancient Egyptian, Greek, and Latin. Since Latin was the language of the Roman Empire we chose it for simplicity sake; both Osiris and I were fluent. My incantation for fire had changed from ‘baslamak a ates’ to ‘incendio’ and the accompanying body motion became a simple pointing of my arm.”
“Before we went our separate ways in life, Osiris gave me a parting gift. In his Druidic traditions, parting friends gave each other a carved Yew branch as a symbol of their intertwined ‘wyrd,’ or destiny. It was a gift I gladly accepted and later modified, you will hear about that later. With Osiris gone, I continued my exploration into my ideas of the prior year, about bringing people to Joshua.”
“My attempts at speaking with villagers and converting the people continued to be futile. I was certain that it had to do with my physical appearance; as long as I was a youth I would be ignored. Being immortal, as far as I could tell, had locked me into a child’s body; but if I was to be credible I would have to do it as an adult. The solution appeared to be simple; I had to give up my immortality.”
“I approached this decision with no fear or hesitancy. I wanted to give my life for Joshua and this seemed to be the best way to do it. My only problem was that I knew of no curse for such an action; however, the solution was, ultimately, quite simple. I used it the moment I recognized what I had to do. So, in the summer of the year 400, I expelled the curse set on my body to keep me forever young, and I joined the world of mortal humans.”
“Retreating to the cave by the sea where I had lived many years before, I began to work on the book you see here, Peter. Over the next six years I learned to make the crude, course paper I used in the book, but before I copied my curses onto this paper I made one more copy on parchment. It took me three years to transfer the text because I had decided to write everything in a language I knew nothing about and in a code that I had yet to perfect.”
Peter looked up to Merlin, understanding in his eyes. “Percy told me that ‘The Story in the Runes’ was in fragments. Is the parchment the source of our story?”
“Yes, Peter, very good, but there’s more. I copied the original parchments first to the new parchment then burned the originals. I didn’t want anyone to be able to easily know the spells, even if I had not transferred power to them, and I wished for my life story to remain secret. Here I made a mistake. I burned the originals as I left the cave for good and I did not return to ensure there complete destruction. I moved to a different lodging, and it turned out that fragments of the original parchments were not destroyed. It was from some of these fragments that the first part of ‘The Story’ originated.”
“And the runes? How do they fit into this?”
Merlin conjured a bench where he and Peter sat while he resumed the story. “Runes are an ancient form of writing that originated in the Scandinavian countries. They filtered down into England centuries later, but when I considered using them they were still a comparatively new form of writing. They are difficult to read because of their shape. Unless a person is well trained to read them, and the person who actually wrote the runes is careful, they are almost impossible to translate. I added a dual layer of ciphers to each parchment, making them impossible to read by anyone of that time. In fact, I don’t believe anyone has managed to translate any part of them.”
“Then how did wizards find out about you growing up and all the spells in the back of your book?”
“Well, Peter, it was through one of those mistakes I made. Do you wish to hear more?”
“Yeah, this is going to make a cool story when I get home.”
Marlin looked into Peter’s eyes before speaking again. “Ah! I see our visitor has returned.”
“Harry, do you think he hears me?” Ginny was sitting in a chair next to Percy’s bed, holding his hand.
When they first arrived, Ginny ran crying from the room. The plain white walls and sheets, and Percy’s motionless body reminded her too much of Harry. After a while Ginny returned, but stayed at the door, taking almost an hour to move closer to her brother, and then finally sitting. He looks like he’s just sleeping.
Harry sat next to Ginny, holding her hand, picturing himself much like this months earlier. “I don’t know, Gin. I wish I could reach into his mind and pull him back, but…” His voice trailed off. Both knew that Harry would suffer the same fate as Snape if he tried to help.
After a while Ginny stood, touched Percy’s face and then kissed his forehead. Finally, before leaving she laid her hand gently over his heart. “Good bye, Percy.” It was all she could manage before the emptiness of another death began to drain her heart.
“Did you experience that, Severus?”
“Yes, I did. Percy, did you feel something?”
“I thing so, but I haven’t known that sense for a long time.”
“No, I understand what you mean. Still, it was more than a mere presence. Did you experience any sort of recognition?”
“Not precisely, I just can’t say yet. Should we continue or wait to see if it happens again?”
“Let’s wait a bit.”
“Count?”
“Yes, I suppose we must. Would you like me to take the first million, Percy?”
“Be my guest.”
“1, 2, 3, 4, 5…
“…102…103…104… Percy, did you…”
“Yes, don’t think anything, I believe I felt it, too.”
“Yes.”
“Someone is here. Severus, is this good? I think I’m going crazy.”
“No, you are not. There, again!”
“Yes!”
After a long “pause” Snape thought, “Percy, has it stopped?”
“I think so. Count?”
“Yes. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…”
“…55,101…55,102…55,103…55,104… Percy, let’s try the story again.”
“How long has it been since the last time?”
“388,414 seconds, a bit more than 4 days.”
“Merlin! I hate counting.”
“Do you have a better idea of how to measure time?”
“No. Well, good luck, Severus.”
“Thank you. Whenever you are ready.”
“Hello, Harry, Ginny. Please come in.” Harry was surprised at Ginny’s suggestion that they stop by to say hello to Olga Windshine after leaving Percy’s room. He was even more surprised to find Olga in her office on a Sunday morning.
A simple “thank you” was Ginny’s response. She did not feel herself on a first-name basis with Olga, in fact, she was not sure how she felt about the woman at all. Her treatment for Harry was working, but she still felt it was irresponsible.
“I find my office noisy and seldom work here, but I had to check on some patients today. What may I do for you?”
“We were visiting with my brother Percy. I, uh, haven’t done it since last year.”
“Yes, I’ve watched his progress over the past few months. His attending Healer has noted his physical progress but we still don’t know about his mind.”
“Director, I was hoping you might…” Ginny stopped speaking, looking uncomfortably at Harry. “Harry, I’m sorry, would you mind if I spoke with the Director alone?”
Harry stood, a surprised look on his face. “Sure, Gin, I’ll be right outside.”
After Harry had departed and closed the door, Olga looked at her remaining guest. “Ginny, is something wrong?”
“No, I mean yes. You offered to teach more about helping Harry. I met a child yesterday and...do you think there is anything you could do for a Muggle child that…”
“STOP, Ginny.” Olga’s face immediately changed from friendly to cautious and her hands flew up, palms facing outward. “You know the laws about treating Muggles.”
“Yes, I know the laws,” Ginny’s voice was even and firm. “but I’m not asking what the law is, I’m asking about a treatment.”
Olga watched Ginny for a moment. “This is something new to you, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean by ‘new’?”
“A week ago you were completely against helping someone you love. Now you’re asking about risking prison for someone you don’t even know. Why the change?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve been very unsettled this past week, yesterday I almost left school. You had offered to help me learn how to heal and I met this child yesterday who I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how.”
Olga smiled as she listened to Ginny’s story. When she finished, Olga stood and came around the desk to sit next to her. “Ginny, do you know anything about my life? I’m sorry if that sounds conceited, but it has a bearing on you.”
“No, I know very little about you.”
“Let me tell you a bit about myself and my work, you might find it…well, I’ll let you judge.” Olga watched Ginny for a sign that she would listen; when Ginny looked back at the Healer the story began.
“I was born in 1896 in the United States, in the territory of Arizona. My father was a Navaho, a native American as they are called now, and my
Mother was of German descent. My name was Olga Morris. My mother had a Swedish housekeeper many years before I came along whose name was Olga. They were very close and when I was born they named me after her. A few years later, about the time I first felt my powers, my mother passed away and my father was left to raise a girl with some unusual abilities.”
“There had been a number of wizards and witches in my family over the generations, so my father had known it was possible that I could be one also. When he was certain, about the time I turned twelve, father traveled to Salem to inquire about schooling. He was warmly greeted and given assurances of a place for me.”
“At that time, the Salem school was very small, only a hundred students or so, and with none of the history and traditions a school like Hogwarts enjoys. Nevertheless, father returned with the wonderful news, and I, for the first time, understood my place in the world; something common among wizards with Muggle parents.”
“In the years before I left for Salem I used to play with the other children in the tribe and used the magic I didn’t really understand; it just came naturally to me. Native American mysticism was not prejudiced against magic and the simple tricks I performed didn’t concern them. Of all my tricks, the children’s favorite was a miniature dust devil I would conjure in my hand. With the quarts and mica dust abundant on our reservation, as the dust spun around and around, it would reflect the sun, sparkling and delighting the younger ones. It was they who gave me the name “Windshine.”
“The Salem school followed the traditional American educational system, quite unlike the English. Children entered the Salem school in ninth grade and spent four years in their secondary education. If the student is interested in a specialty they remained a further four years, earning what we now know as a Bachelors Degree, in Muggle parlance.”
“I completed my secondary education in 1914 and chose to remain at Salem, studying Healing for the next three years.” Olga stopped here, looking at Ginny to see if she had been listening closely.
“What about your eighth year?”
“My father had been injured in the First World War, so I left school to take care of him. Father was a Muggle, and when I repeatedly used my skills to try and heal him, I was expelled from Salem.” Olga’s face had shown little as she told her story, until this point. Now it fell, just a little, as she relived the events of that year. “In spite of my best efforts he died shortly thereafter and I was left without a home and no future. After burying father, I changed my name to ‘Windshine’ so that I would always remember my past, then I spent two years traveling, ending up in England, and studying Muggle medicine. Six years later I graduated from medical school, with honors, and started a small practice in a tiny village called Sherington, about an hour north of London.”
“You gave up all you’re wizarding education?”
“No, Ginny, I didn’t. But my use of wizard medicine on Muggles incurred the wrath of the Ministry here in England. I refused to leave Muggles to the half measures their medicine offered. Although our medicine is not completely compatible with the Muggle world, there were a few areas in which I could help. Over the next fifty years my continued defiance of the Ministry of Magic prompted repeated sanctions against me to the point where I was ultimately forbidden to practice medicine outside of the Muggle world. The only reason I was not imprisoned was due to my nation-wide recognition by Muggles. But the ban truly didn’t bother me, except that I could not keep up with any advances of medicine in the wizarding world.”
“In the 1980’s I regained my lost respect within the Ministry due to the work I performed during Voldemort’s first reign of terror. Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt were both patients under my care, and in hiding; this was shortly before your fiancé’s first encounter with Voldemort. And I suppose I can now tell you, or anyone else who may be interested, that I aided Albus Dumbledore on not a few occasions; I’m sure his influence was part of the reason all charges were dropped against me about eighteen years ago. However, my reinstatement was not without a price. I had to give up my Muggle practice and swear off further interference in their affairs. Weighing this price against the chance to learn about recent advances in our medicine was very difficult, but you can guess, I’m sure, what my choice was.”
Ginny nodded and asked, “What about now? Do regret the decision?”
“No, except when people like you bring to me the type of problem you have.” Olga watched Ginny very closely. In fact, both were measuring each other. Olga was looking for the maturity Ginny would need to be a Healer; Ginny was looking for compassion in a person sworn not to give it.
“So Ginny, since I cannot help a Muggle for you, how CAN I help you?”
This time Snape had a definite sensation of his presence in Percy’s memory. The ground felt firm and he could see clearly. Looking around, Snape saw neither the boy nor the old man. Fearing that he was in the wrong memory, Snape felt himself fading back into the trap of Percy’s mind. With all his power, Snape forced himself back, solidly, into the memory and began to walk.
Noticing a trail nearby, and two sets of footprints leading off toward a small hill, Snape started his search. Walking seemed foreign to Snape, he was not comfortable in his ability to travel any distance properly, and his depth perception and balance felt odd. Stumbling up and over the hill, Snape saw something far in the distance and kept walking toward it; soon he could tell that it was Peter and the old man. Stopping to gather his thoughts, Snape approached the two.
“Are you Peter?” Snape asked, looking at the boy.
“Yes!” Peter jumped up and grabbed the man in a long robe, hugging him and thanking Snape over and over as he shed tears. “Who are you? You look like Percy but I can tell you’re someone else.”
“I believe Percy is back at the hospital, but it’s hard to be certain of anything now. My name is Severus Snape and I was trying to help Percy when...never mind. The story is too long. Are you all right, Peter?”
“Yes Mr. Snape. Oh, this is Merlin.” Peter pointed out the old man to Snape.
“MERLIN? Forgive my skepticism. I know I’m not in a memory because we recognize each other, therefore this must be some form of reality. In our reality Merlin died centuries ago.”
The old man nodded at Snape and conjured another bench, indicating that Snape should sit. “I believe it would be useful for you to hear the story, too. You’ve paid a high price for it.”
“What do you mean?” But Snape instantly knew the answer to his own question. He had always known that his actions with Percy could have cost him his life; in fact, he was certain that he could never return to his physical body. But where he now existed was a subject of great curiosity to him and he realized that he wanted some questions answered before his next stage of existence, whatever that may be.
“Yes, you will have your questions answered, Severus.” Then turning to Peter, Merlin said, “Peter, the choice is now yours alone. Leave or stay? Severus has paid for your freedom and you may go.”
“What happens if I stay to hear the rest of the story?” As much as Peter wanted to leave he had an intense curiosity about the real story of Merlin and magic. When Merlin spoke to answer him, both Peter and Snape were shocked by his answer.
“Peter, I don’t know what will happen. I’m sorry.”
“Harry, I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” Ginny had been crying, Harry could see it in her blood shot eyes as she exited the office. Taking his hand, Ginny led him out of Olga’s office suite and into the adjoining hallway where she stopped and hugged Harry tightly, and in silence.
“You want to go and talk somewhere, Gin?”
“No, not now. Harry, would you mind terribly if I said good bye to Percy one more time? I don’t think I could bear to see him like this again.”
“Sure, whenever you like.”
Breaking away from Harry’s comforting embrace, Ginny led them back down to Percy’s room. Activity in the hospital had picked up over the past hour and Harry nearly had his nose broken by a two-way door opening into his face. Dodging gurneys and wheelchairs they came back into Percy and Peter’s room.
This time Ginny walked straight to the bed and, taking Percy’s hand, she leaned over and kissed her brother’s head good bye for the last time, lingering for a second then pressing her cheek against his forehead. The squeeze on her hand wasn’t nearly as startling as her brother asking her, “is that you, Severus?”