September 1
I am Owen O'Donnell, known as Owen Dugh (1) because of my dark hair. I am a direct descendant of Owen Roe O'Donnell who, with Owen Roe O'Neill and Owen Roe Maguire, rose up against the English in glorious battle. It was their tragic defeat that led to the Flight of the Earls, and gave birth to the Wild Geese, adding volumes to the songs and legends that are our culture. The battles have long since ended, but the troubles still continue. As with many of us, I do not look for a winner, I only look for the violence to stop, yet I cannot find a way. Thus it is before this backdrop of divided Ulster, I live my life.
Da was the owner of the neighborhood pub, and every night and weekend until the early morning, the local bands would give it a try on the small stage. I grew up listening to American Pop and Sinead O'Connor, with Folk Singers and Ceiligh bands thrown into the mix. It was here that I started to play professionally.
Mam thought it a good idea to practice my music in the pub. This way I would learn what people liked to hear. On the slow nights, I would pull out my harp and play. If it was a bit busy, I would play the acoustic guitar and try my hand at singing. Always though, I would have the bodhran. (2) Da made a strap for me to wear that I could attach my drum to, and I would wear it everywhere. Thanks to having an audience, my music skills increased, as did my pocket change. There is nothing like money to give a boy incentive.
On my eleventh birthday, my life changed. An owl flew into the kitchen and dropped my letter on the table. Mam called to Da saying it came. The letter was not a surprise as magic was no stranger in my family.
Aunt Jessica was a witch and would visit us frequently to see her favorite nephew. That meant Fergus would have to sit with her the entire time, while I would go off with Uncle Darren and show him the town. Uncle claimed to have magic in him but not enough to do anything. He made his living as an accountant, and a very good living, too. His investments for my Da payed off well enough to keep us safe from the banks.
It was Uncle Darren I talked to after I had read my letter. As the family gathered for another excuse to have a party, Uncle and I walked out to the cliffs. Looking out over Lough Swilly I asked him what I should do. He sat me down and told me of the decisions my family had made in the past
"Most went to Hogwarts, but you O'Donnells are a stubborn lot. Your father's father went, was a prefect and head boy. He graduated in the top of his class. His future wife was the only one to get a higher grade. Your father refused outright. He had an ear for music, and in his younger days, toured with a band. Magic was nice, but he had no use for it. Your Aunt Jessica went. She stayed to graduate, and joined the ministry. She came to work in the finance department, and that is where we met." A grin lit his face as he told me that last part.
"But what should I do," I asked?
He looked across the bay, and pointed to a far piece of land. "Owen, suppose I went over to that spot of land, and decided I liked it. Should I stay there?"
"If ye can, sure," I said.
"And if I didn't like it, what should I do?" he asked.
"You can always leave," I answered, as understanding brought a smile to my lips.
He patted my shoulder and told me, "Owen, if nothing else, it will be an adventure."
On the way back, I asked how my parents met. He told me it was because of Aunt Jessica. "She invited another girl from school to visit, as her family lived near by. She and your Da kept in touch." And the rest is history, as Uncle Darren likes to say.
"Why doesn't Mam use magic?" I wondered.
Uncle said that she did, but that we don't talk about it. He then closed with the line, "We'll talk about it when you're older."
As the summer days grew to a close, I prepared myself for the journey. It was Uncle Darren who accompanied me. We crossed the Irish Sea and then took a train to London. "There are faster ways," he told me, "but none of them will give you a feel for the land." He took me for my school supplies, and gave me my first true taste of the realm of magic. I was intoxicated.
September the first found me eager to board the Hogwarts Express. Uncle had told me of a surprise waiting for me in one of the compartments, but it was up to me to find it. I began walking through the train, looking in the various compartments, when I heard someone singing. I knew instantly that I had found it.
I looked in to see the brown haired girl sitting, her blue eyes closed as she sang:
Red is the Rose in yonder valley grows
Fair is the Lily of the Valley
At this point, I joined in with my tenor voice:
Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne
But my true love is fairer than any. (3)
"Me name's Owen," I said as she opened her eyes.
"Cousin," She called, "You came to see me off. Go raimh maith agat. (4) Why didn't you come earlier? The train will be leaving soon."
"Comhanaich Gael, (5) Fiona MacAlistair, I only just found out you were on the train."
Fiona flushed as she understood what I had said. She looked at me, and I nodded.
"Mam made me promise not to tell ye anything, in case you hadn't gotten in. She said to wait for ye to say something first."
Fiona grinned, saying, "Mother went so far as to tell me how bad you felt for not receiving a letter. She even managed to get me to ask her not to say anything."
We laughed at the joke our mothers had played on us, making us spend weeks with each other without knowing we would be classmates. The two sisters were most likely sitting over a pair of pints, laughing at us.
"My parents brought me to London via portkey, to catch the Hogwarts Express," Fiona told me. "You do know how they believe in being early? I would swear that I was the first student to board the train. All I could do was pick a compartment and wait for what the future might bring."
"And it brought me," I said.
"And what elsewill it bring before this day is done, cousin?"
Fiona then told me how "Father explained to me the importance of meeting the other students and getting to know them. Mother had agreed, as usual. Then she took hold of Father's arm, and told me the story of how they had first met on the train, and formed a friendship." Imitating her mother she added, "Love followed afterward, and we were married shortly after graduation."
Still smirking, Fiona said, "Of course I asked if I would find my true love on the train. Father told me not to worry about that. 'Love will come on its own, but friends must be invited in. Love may be the building block of life. Friendship is its foundation.'"
Her Da always said things like that. When we would be studying geography, he would say, "Know the land and you know the fulness of life." For History, his favorite saying was, "to study the past tells us who we are, and where we came from. If we are observant, it shows us where we are going." Literature was "the gateway that opened the mind to limitless possibilities." "Music," he would say, "fills the soul." As a result of all of this, Fiona was well read, played the violin, sang with a fair voice (not a great voice, but not one to be ashamed of), and she could be pompous at the drop of a hat. I love my cousin Fiona dearly, and for one reason: She will always put up with me.
As the train began to fill, we began to talk more in the old tongue. I noticed that other students would pause, listen to us briefly, then walk on. Amused by this, I asked Fiona, also in Gaelic, if she noticed how they were reacting. She told me she preferred it like that, as it kept boring people away.
A blond girl, Mary Peterson, came by, asking if she could sit with us. She had heard our conversation, and thought we might be interesting. I told her she was completely wrong, but if she wanted a good nap, she could listen to us talk. She laughed at that, and she joined us.
Mary asked me about my bodhran as soon as she saw it. I gave her an offended look when she called it a drum, but Fiona laughed, telling her that I could play harp and guitar as well.
I explained the bodhran was my favorite instrument. "I find that when I play the harp people listen politely, when I play the guitar people make requests, but when I play the bodhran people join in. It always becomes a Ceilidh." (6)
Mary admitted to being less talented, but then revealed that she had been part of her church choir. When she said that, I pulled out my stick and took hold of my bodhran. When she looked at me with a sharp smile, Fiona went into her trunk and pulled out her case. "What are the odds," Mary said, "that we three would meet this way?"
I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Music calls to music. Ye should ask, what are the odds that we would meet this quickly?"
Of a sudden, Mary let out a gasp and pointed out the window. Fiona and I looked in the direction of a small crowd of people coming onto the platform. "That boy," she said, "He's so ragged."
"Tis just a tinker," (7) I said. "Had ye not seen one before? They're common enough in parts of Ireland. The tinkers are known to have magic, but they rarely go for formal schooling. That he's here means he'll be one to watch."
He was a small boy, brown hair darker and almost as long as Fiona"s. He was dressed in worn but clean clothes, and seemed indifferent to the tears in his pants and jacket. He passed by, walking with a group of older students, most of them with red hair. One of them had given him an owl in a cage to carry, which he seemed to enjoy.
As we watched the boy, Mary spoke. "Will you look at the way he walks? Every step he takes says 'I belong here.' Every muscle in his face says, 'to hell with you if you deny it.' I wish I had it in me to be like that."
"Like what?" asked a voice. It was a boy, a second or third year student. He began to sit down when I told him this was a private party. The boy said, "Great," and, pushing a mop of brown hair out of his eyes, introduced himself as Walter. We introduced ourselves, and he sat down after storing two small trunks. I asked Walter if he had any musical talents. He smiled and said he had almost no talent at all, but he often dreamed that he did.
As the train began to leave the station, I began to tap my drum in time to the movement. I wasn't quite aware of it until Mary began to hum along. Fiona had already taken out her fiddle. ( "I was not planning on playing classical music," she told us.) We began to play randomly as the tempo of the train increased. Mary began to sing something that seemed to fit our music, and we began to harmonize.
We played various tunes over the course of the next hour, having a grand time. Then I asked Walter to name a tune. Walter demurred, saying he did not know any, but he did know a few poems. Fiona called for a poem, and the rest of us chimed in. There were six of us by this time. Walter stood up and began his recitation:
Twas brillig and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe
All mimsy were the borogoves
And the mome raths outgrabe (8)
Walter recited the entire poem, using his hand and body movements to emphasize certain lines. He finished to rousing applause. For the rest of my days I will know how to properly shun Bandersnatches, regardless of how frumious they are.
Various students would open the compartment door from time to time, but I would tell them it was a private party. When they would leave, Walter would always laugh. Mary asked him why he found it funny.
He answered, "What good is a party if you don't stay to enjoy it."
"Even private ones?" Mary asked.
Walter smiled and asked in return, "Is this really a private party, or are you just trying to keep the boring people away?" Fiona and I fell back in laughter of our own at this remark
At one point in our playing, I noticed that Walter was gazing at nothing in particular. I told Fiona and Mary, "If I did not know better, I would swear that he was fighting dragons."
Fiona glanced at him and said, "I think he's winning."
The amusing part is that Walter looked up and asked, "Owen, which would you rather do, fight a dragon, or ride one?"
I gave him my best grin, and thickening my brogue, I said, "Fightin' dragons ha' been done, but to ride one, tha' would be a grand feat."
We all laughed and I thought nothing more of it until years later. I was in a book store looking for something appropriate for my young daughter, when I came across a childrens book called "Owen and His Dragon." Walter was the author, and the picture on the cover showed a black-haired boy on the back of a blue and bronze dragon. The boy even carried a small drum.
Despite my constant rebukes, some students still called my bluff. These were immediately made part of our little group. By the time the trip was half over, there were at least ten of us crammed into that compartment, although I could not tell you how.
When, the Tinker showed up, I, and about half of us, gave the usual retort. The Tinker smiled and pulled out a thin green metal box. He opened it and pulled out a battered old pennywhistle. Raising it to his lips, he joined in without missing a beat. As we finished, Fiona called out, "The White Cockade," and we continued to play.
There was no longer any semblance of a 'private party.' There were too many of us to even close the compartment door, and the passageway was filled with listeners. We spent the remainder of the trip, playing one song after another. If one of us was tired of singing or playing, we would rest while everyone else carried on. I was right when I said there would be a Ceilidh.
As we approached Hogsmeade Station, everyone began to return to their own compartments to ready themselves. One of a set of twins, told the Tinker that they had to go. The other twin said something about still needing a hat. At this, Walter spoke up for the first time in a long while.
"Fred. Who needs a hat?" he asked one of the twins.
"It's Gregory," he replied, "he doesn't have one."
"Both Mom and Dad packed for me," Walter said, "I have two of everything." He opened one of his trunks and pulled out a hat, handing it over.
When the train arrived, we were introduced to Hagrid, the giant, who would escort us across the lake to the school. As we gathered near the lake, Neville Longbottom ran up to Hagrid, and talked to him. I heard the Tinker's name mentioned, and knew something was up. Fiona and Mary were already talking about what it might be, when we caught the word, "muggle." That set all of us to talking.
Neville introduced himself in a nervous voice. He then started to say he was afraid of something, but he kept pausing at the words"I'm afraid." Then he would start over. After the fourth time, someone asked, "What are you afraid of?"
Neville let out a smile and said, "everything." We laughed at that, and Neville began to describe everything to be afraid of: The small boats, the wide lake, the cold water, the giant squid, Fluffy the dog..."
One boy barked a laugh and said, "You're afraid of a dog named Fluffy?"
"Have you all seen the giant, Hagrid?" Neville asked, receiving a round of nods. "Well, I don't know exactly how big Fluffy is, but each of his heads is as big as Hagrid."
"Each?" said Fiona, her face going slightly pale.
"He has three," Neville explained.
He kept talking to us while moving us into the boats. To one boy he said, "Be careful you don't fall in, or the squid will toss you any which way. One student got a lucky break and landed on the steps in front of the school. More than one break, really. Those steps are hard."
When he came up to our little group, I tried to hide my bodhran. He asked me why.
"It's not allowed," I said. "They told me to leave it with me other things."
"Do you always do things when people tell you not to?" He asked with a grin. Not waiting for an answer, he added, "Well, don't play the drum when you're in the boat."
As we boarded our small vessel, Fiona bemoaned not bringing her violin. "We could have given them a grand concert on the water."
We looked back when we heard Hagrid. He was leading the Tinker to a boat, and Neville was getting in it as well. "We'll have our concert after all," I told her.
As the boats began their journey across the lake. I began tapping my drum. I watched as the Tinker asked Neville a question. When he pulled out his pennywhistle, I could not help but grin. We played the Skye Boat Song, Fiona softly singing, "Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing." We paused only when Hogwarts came into view. It was a wonderous site.
Meeting the Tinker was when my adventure began. That he was a muggle did not surprise me as much as it should. I lived in a house with magic, but it was rarely used. My parents would even argue about whether or not to fix a broken glass, even though it would have taken no time at all. Magic was not that important in our family life. What surprised me about the Tinker was his skill in music. Even though he played an old pennywhistle, he made the most of it. He had a way such as I had never seen. I considered myself to be skilled, but my skill was a pale thing to his natural ability.
When we entered the school, the Tinker was taken aside by Professor McGonagall, and was asked various question about the wand he had, how he came to be at Kings Cross that day, and about his brother. My Tinker friend answered most of the question with vague answers or not at all. The adults were already deciding that he should be sent back to London, and letting the Ministry of Magic handle the situation, even though it was obvious that none of them liked the idea.
Having never been shy, I had walked up behind the group and stood there, listening. That is how I noticed the problem, and it's solution. Decided to seize the moment, I got their attention by doing what a child my age is never supposed to do. I treated them as though I was an equal. Addressing the headmaster, I said, "Albus, ye forgot something."
Every face turned toward me. McGonagall spoke first, telling me to show proper respect and to get back in line.
Dumbledore interrupted her, saying he would take care of the matter. Turning to me, he asked, "Owen, what did I forget?"
I had heard about him, but I was still surprised that he knew me right off. Giving him my best smile I told him, "The Sorting Hat. Mam told me it looks into your head to sort you into the proper house. Can't you have it look in the Tinker's head to find out what he forgot?"
The man from the Ministry, Arthur Weasley, pointed out that as the boy had no magic, and so he could not be sorted.
"Mr. Wyatt does not have to be sorted," Dunbledore stated. "The Hat would only have to determine Whether or not he is a threat to the school, and to see if the boy has the answers to our questions." Looking to the Tinker, he said, "Gregory, you have to do this willingly. We will not have you put the Hat on, otherwise."
At the thought of trying on a magical hat, the Tinker quickly agreed. It was more than he expected, and with the promise of a full meal, he was in heaven. AsI returned to my place, I noticed Dumbledore placing the Tinker in the front of the line. I stopped Professor McGonagall and asked why. It seemed wiser to me to have him wear the Hat in a more private place.
It was Dumbledore who answered me. He came back to talk to me, and heard my question. "These are troubled times, Owen Dugh (How did he know to call me that?), and I do not like to keep secrets if I do not have to. If Gregory is a problem, it is best that everyone knows. If he is not a problem, then the students get to see what happens when a muggle tries on the Sorting Hat. Either way, it will be an education."
I thought to myself how much he sounded like Uncle Darren.
"Professor," I asked, but he interrupted me.
"Owen, you started off calling me Albus, please don't become formal with me and destroy our budding friendship." With that, he gave me a warm smile, and his eyes glinted as though he were laughing.
"Albus, why didn't you suggest the Sorting Hat in the first place? It was obvious to me that you knew about it."
"Owen, sometimes it pays to not know everything at once," Albus said with a sigh. "I would have suggested it eventually, but this way I give others the time to examine the problem, and perhaps suggest a better idea. If I always give them my solutions, they will always expect them from me, instead of trying to find their own. They would think I know everything, instead of suspecting that I do." With a sigh he added, "Why don't you come by for tea tomorrow? We can talk some more."
I accepted his invitation, and thanked him for his time. After all, he had made every first-year jealous of me. I should make the most of it.
We walked into the Great Hall, and stopped in front of the stool on which the Sorting Hat was placed, and listened as it sang a song about the houses we would be sorted into. Professor McGonagall called out, "Gregory Wyatt," and the Tinker walked forward and put on the hat. A hush fell over the entire hall when his name was called. It was clear that this was not the usual turn of events, and not one student wanted to miss what would happen.
What happened was that we waited. Then, we waited some more. As the wait grew longer, I could hear whispered conversations beginning. Rumors were flying around the hall about what was going on. After a good while, the Tinker removed the Hat and turned toward us. "O'Donnell Dugh," he called out, "It wants to talk to you."
I looked over at Albus, and he appeared amused by all of this. Taking his attitude as my cue, I stepped out of line, and walked over to take the Hat. As I put the Hat on, I said, in a loud voice, "Now, lad, we'll see what problem the hat is having."
"Very Funny," the hat said inside my head.
"Excuse me, please," I said, "but this is the largest audience I've ever played to."
"All the worlds a stage to you, isn't it, my young friend," the Hat said with amusement. "Let us see what parts you can play, so we can sort you properly,"
"What does that have to do with the Tinker," I asked?
"Ah, a bright lad," the hat remarked, "You picked up on that right away. I can't sort the other boy because he has no magic. As you are the closest he has to a friend, I will sort him to whichever house you go to."
I know the hat felt my surprise at his statement. Muggles don't attend Hogwarts. I asked the Hat about this.
"My reasoning is simple," the Hat said. "I am supposed to refuse him and send him home. The problem is, he does not have a home. Therefore, my choice is to either admit him or send him back onto the streets." It told me to give it back to the Tinker, then called out."Ravenclaw." Feeling confused, I removed the hat and handed it back. Even when the hat called out Ravenclaw a second time, I could not grasp what was happening. As the two of us walked to our table, amidst raucous applause, it sank in. Thanks to me, there would be a muggle attending Hogwarts after all. This school was going to be an interesting place.
The sorting continued in a normal fashion after that. Fiona was sorted into the same house as we were, as was Mary Peterson. The ceremony ended, and our quartet prepared for the feast to follow. As the food appeared, I reached for a dinner role, only to have it grabbed from me by a red-haired girl who was sitting across from me. Her name was Kelly Gilhooly, and her emerald eyes matched the green hills of Connacht, where she was born. We named our eldest son, Gregory, after our best friend.
As we ate, we talked about various things. At one point, I saw Mary looking across the room. "There's Neville," she said. As we looked up, the girl sitting next to him saw us and waved.
"That's Ginny," the Tinker told us, "She and her brothers helped sneak me on board the train. They were the ones who gave me my robe." We politely waved to Ginny, and she nudged Neville, who looked over. Our waves became enthusiastic, forcing him to smile. Neville was the most popular student in the school, at least as far as the first years were concerned.
While we watched, Ginny said something to Neville. He said something in return, and Ginny leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "She is his girlfriend," Fiona said with authority. "That's why he helped you, Gregory. She asked him to keep an eye on you."
"They fit well together," Mary said. The Tinker nodded his agreement.
. When we finished eating, I remarked on what the Tinker had told us he said when he had first seen Hogwarts. I said to him, "well, well, me tinker lad. Ye've made it to the Magic Castle, and feasted in the Great Hall of the King of Faerie. Now the King is ready to grant your fondest wish." I put on my best Puckish grin when I asked, "What do ye wish for more than anything else in the entire world?"
The Tinker thought for a minute. He patted his full stomach and looked around the table. Then he looked me in the eye and said, "I could use a good bed."
1. Dugh (Due) Meaning: Black-haired. Roe is red-haired.
2. Bodhran A hand-held drum. A traditional Gaelic instument.
3. Red is the Rose: Traditional song, same tune as Loch Lomond
4. Go raimh maith agat (go rahv mah AH-gaht) Meaning: Thank You.
5. Camhanaich Gael (COW-nah gale) Meaning: Irish dawn. A euphemism used by my uncle, colloquially it means the same as "Good Grief"
6. Ceiligh (KAY-lee) Meaning: a gathering. A Ceiligh is an informal gathering where music is expected, and anyone who attends expects, and is expected, to participate.
7. Tinker The tinkers are the traveling people of Ireland. Think of a cross between the Gypsies and the Amish.
8. Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll, the first stanza
