TITLE: Blue Hair, Pointed Ears, and a Wand
SUMMARY: An Elf goes to Hogwarts....
RATING: PG
DISCLAIMERS: I don't own the Harry Potter books, worship J.K. Rowling for that. I won't use this story for profit...blah,blah, woof, woof.
A/N: Just read, it, will you? Pretty please?


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Chapter 2: The Letter

Thirteen year-old Nadea Ruibhen was an Elf. Capital e, that is, or as most Elves prefer to be called, Sidhe. Yes, she had pointed ears, and could do magic, but she was not three feet tall and she did not have wings. (Not anymore, at least; the Sidhe lost their wings several thousand years ago.) In fact, she looked very little like the sort of elf in a Muggle children's book. She had short neon-blue hair and cat-like, slitted pupils, and she was actually taller than most human girls her age. She wore a blue cotton robe with tan trimming, which her mother had sewn but which also fit her well. And at the moment, she was arguing with the most obstinate shopkeeper in all of County Connaught.
What do you mean, you're out of Self-Threading Needles (TM)?!' she said incredulously.
They're not exactly the most popular item in this store. I mean, your ma's the only one who ever buys them. I can't keep track of when they run out.' The man's pointy ears (he was also a Sidhe) turned red from indignation. His voice had a heavy brogue.
Nadea sighed. When's your next shipment, Finnegan?' she asked with a resigned sigh.
Supplies come in Saturday from Sligo.'
All right. It'll just be the groceries, then,' she said.
D'you want a copy of the Daily Prophet today? There's a big article again on Sirius Black,' remarked the shopkeeper.
No, thank you.' She paid for the food and placed it in a cloth bag with battered handles. See you Saturday.'
Good-bye, Miss Ruibhen.'
Outside the store, she grabbed her ash-handled broom where it had leaned against the wall. Balancing the bag in front of her, she mounted and rose into the warm summer air.

For Nadea, home was a two-story cottage on Oghin Rhûs, a winding road overlooking the Northern Sea. The whitewashed cottage was very small--only 7 rooms in all--but cozy. She and her mother were the only people there; she had no siblings, and her father had died when she was a baby. Surrounding the cottage was a vegetable garden and a peeling, green fence. Nadea flew over the chimney and thatching, steeply sloping roof and dove down, stopping just before the front door. She was a good flier, having been on her school's Quidditch team for two years. As she landed, she waved at neighbor Russ Calder, who was walking down the road to the village. Nadea slid off the broom and placed it on a bench beside the door.
As she walked inside, into the living room, she called out to her mother. Mum, I'm home!' She put the sack of groceries on the table in the kitchen. Her mother hadn't replied, but Nadea knew where to find her: in the workshop at the back of the cottage.
The workshop had once been a large storeroom; there were still tall shelved on two sides of the room, but they now held rolls of cloth and ribbon. The stone-flagged floor was littered with scraps of colorful fabric of all textures and patterns. Nadea's mother sat at a desk hidden in the far corner. A bolt of ink-black cloth was spread on the desktop, and she waved her wand over it casually, using a Hemming Spell to finish the edges. She looked up through her tiny sewing spectacles when Nadea came in. Maire Ruibhen had the same striking aqua hair as her daughter, but her eyes were hazel and her face made a rounder shape.
Nadea removed the tabby cat, one of her many pets, from the cushioned chair beside the door and sat in it. Undaunted, the cat leapt back into her lap and sprawled there, purring contentedly. She stroked its fur as she spoke to her mother.
Finnegan said he's run out of Self-Threading Needles (TM) and the next shipment comes in Thursday. I got the groceries, though, and the soap we needed.
Thank you, Nadea.'
Are you working on the robe for Mr. Clannert?' the girl asked. Her mother nodded in reply, her mouth full of pins. The Ruibhens lived in a very small village, with around 70 residents, give or take a few. Maire, Nadea's mother, was the only seamstress in the village, so she know everyone well and got a decent amount of respect. There were, however, a few rumors among some of the gossipy village biddies, whispers about her dead husband. Nadea tried to ignore every hint of those rumors.
Was there any post today, Mum?'
Maire took the pins from her mouth. I think so. Look in the living room.'
Nadea went out into the living room, which was the largest in the small cottage. Kneeling on the colorful hearth rug, she looked on the stone in front of the chimney, where the mail usually was. Being owl post, it dropped down through the chimney instead of into a box or door slot. There were no letters there.
Suddenly she heard a faint coughing noise behind her. It was the sort of noise that makes one's skin prickle with dread, the sort of noise that a legendary hero would hear just after he thinks he's chopped off all the tentacles. The sort of noise that a smug, talking bird makes.
The girl spun around to face her pet and adversary. Croikey, give me that letter!' she demanded.
Croikey's full name was , which was given to him by the considerably irate owner of the pet store where Nadea had bought him. Croikey was a raven, and he was very sensitive about that. He insisted that he was very different from a crow, and would vehemently argue the point with anyone who wanted to. Owing to a magical accident that had happened before he came to the Ruibhen household, the raven could speak and understand human speech. He also had a longer life span and a few extremely un-birdlike traits.
Giff me one guff reaffon,' he said, lisping around the large envelope that he held in his beak.
How about: it's not yours and I'd like to have it?' She tried to grab the letter, but he dodged away.
Not unleff you giff me fomeffing in return.'
Like what?' she asked, in a too-sweet voice.
He thought about this for a moment. A biscuit.'
*Ahem: this is a British biscuit, not an American one. So it's a cookie.*
Sighing, Nadea got up and walked into the kitchen. She opened a biscuit tin and held out a piece of shortbread to the raven. This presented him with a dilemma: how could he snatch the biscuit while keeping the letter in his beak? At last his belly won, but as soon as he dropped the letter, Nadea grabbed it and pulled the treat out of his reach. Triumphant, she returned to the sewing room with envelope in hand.
Blackmailer,' she called over her shoulder to Croikey.
Thief,' he cawed back.

As Nadea walked to the back of the house, she glanced down at the address on the envelope, written in bright green ink.

Miss N. Ruibhen
The Cottage
26 Oghin Rhûs
Sidhe Autonomous Reserve, NE
County Connaught, Ireland

Curious, she brushed a wisp of blue hair out of her face and turned the envelope over. There was a red wax seal, stamped with the Hogwarts coat of arms.
Mum!' she shrieked, dashing into the sewing room. Mum, the letter's here!'
Maire smiled at her daughter's excitement. Read it, then.'
The girl ripped open the envelope and began reading the letter in her soft, lilting brogue:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chief Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)


Dear Miss Ruibhen,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your previous school records will transfer directly to your third year placement. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Students are allowed one pet, such as a cat or an owl, and may bring a broomstick.
The new school year will begin on September the first. We await your owl by no later than July 31. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross Station in London, Platform Nine-and-three-quarters, at eleven o'clock on Sept.1.
It is duly noted that as a Sidhe, with an M.O.M classification of four, you are required to use caution while travelling in Muggle areas. If proper security precautions are not taken, the Departments of Magical Law Enforcement and for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, as well as the Sidhe High Council, will be notified.
Third years at Hogwarts are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.
Yours sincerely,
Professor M. McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

Nadea tore her eyes from the letter, grinning from ear to ear. I'm going to Hogwarts, Mum!'
Her mother stood up and put an arm around her shoulders. Nadea was as tall as her mother now, though she was only thirteen. Hogwarts is very far away, Nadea,' she reminded her. It will be a long journey since you can't Apparate.'
Oh, I don't care, it'll be worth the journey! But what do they mean by proper security measures'?'
That means you'll have to cover your hair and ears and wear sunglasses when you're near Muggles.' The appearance of Sidhe, though they weren't very different from humans, usually frightened Muggles (non-magic people). That was why most Sidhe in Ireland and Britain, the Ruibhens included, lived on a spacious Autonomous Reserve in the northwest part of the country, which was governed by the High Council and guarded from Muggles.
Nadea reread the letter, scarcely believing her eyes. She spoke to Croikey, who had sidled into the sewing room, munching a biscuit. I got into Hogwarts!'
The raven sniffed and looked at her mournfully. So you're going to leave me, eh? You're going to leave poor old Croikey all alone at home while you go off to school? Oh, I knew this rueful day would come!' he wailed, closing his eyes.
I won't leave you behind, Croikey. I'm allowed to have a pet.'
The bird opened one eye hopefully. You'll--you'll take me?'
Of course.'
Then...let's goooooo!!!' He jumped into the air and flapped around the room in circles.
Not so fast,' Maire cautioned. The Council still has to approve your leaving the Reserve.'
Nadea's heart fell like a stone. The Council?' she repeated, eyes wide.
Yes. The next meeting's on Friday.'

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A/N: Some pronunciations: Sidhe' is SHEE. (They're in some Celtic myths.) Ruibhen' is ROO-VEHN. Nadea' is NAH-DEE-AH.
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