1933, Cobh, Ireland
Bernard lowered the bike to the ground where the others usually lay. He had reached the clearing where he would meet the rest of his classmates.
He walked a little further into the forest, approaching the central tree. The silence of the place made the sound of his moccasins against the soil deafening. A shiver ran through his body as he strolled through an area that was barely touched by the sun. The vegetation was abundant, green, damp. The central tree split its trunk into three large parts covered with thick green moss, which twisted around each other until they were lost at the top of the treetops.
He circled it cautiously, putting his hand in the pocket of his shorts, touching only the fabric. He hadn't brought his watch, so he could only wait. With a leap, he clambered onto a wet rock and crossed his legs, resting his elbows on them and on his clenched fists, his chin.
He listened to the surrounding sounds; the birds, the faint murmur of the nearby stream, the voice of Astilles, the young centaur teaching the children in the third circle. The boy's mind began to fantasise about attending Magic Applications classes. To be able to start casting spells and potions, interacting with animals, transfigurations? It seemed so unattainable... When he turned 6, he was excited to start classes at Marlogue Woods like his siblings, however, he spent three years condemned to learning to read and write English, Gaelic and Latin, and simply doing calculus like Muggle children. That was the reality of Circle 1: General Studies, taught by the ever-laughing witch Marsaili.
He sighed in resignation. It had only been a few weeks since he had started Circle 2: Understanding of Magic, but so far they had done nothing related to magic. Daartir had spent his time talking about energy and trees and water, and worst of all, none of his siblings were with him to share in his suffering. He couldn't help but feel envious of Jane or Lili, who by their brilliant merits had been rapidly ascending to the more advanced Circles, Magic Applications and Mastery of Magic. Ancient runes, apparition, ancient studies, dark magic... A world full of possibilities.
He raised his head and looked around. Just as he was beginning to think that perhaps the class had already started, and they had gone to another part of the forest without him, the braided trunk began to move slowly, untangling the branches that snaked around it and revealing an oval-shaped hollow of darkness.
He descended from the rock as an elf emerged from the bowels of the tree wearing a friendly smile. He wore a brown cloth waistcoat with a hood with holes, allowing his long, pointed ears to stick out of them, and matching trousers. On his feet he wore green rain boots, so large for his short stature that they came up to his thighs. The greenish tone of his skin made him almost invisible as he blended in among the leaves and branches of the area.
Just as Bernard saw Daartir emerge from the tree and the trunk curling back behind him, his classmates arrived so that the class could begin. Two kids approached Bernard's bike and left their own beside it. A girl with bronze skin and hazel eyes approached the tree after hopping off her bike, waving at Bernard and offering him a smile. An almost copy of her appeared next to Bernard, who, although knowing she was a year older than her sister, had trouble distinguishing them.
"Eva, Marianna, Bernard. Welcome." the raspy voice of Daartir reached them as they shared their hellos. "Today we will not go to the usual place…" he said mysteriously. "I think you are ready for something… new."
With sparkling eyes and excited questions, the three students followed Daartir across the forest, occasionally guiding themselves with the walking trails and, of course, the signs that prevented inquisitive muggles from approaching the area.
After fifteen minutes of walking, the pines began to scatter, allowing them to see more of the skies and the water of the shoreline until they revealed a tranquil beach. Concealed with green hills in the distance and the line of the dense forest at their backs, Daartir had led them to a secret spot Bernard was sure no one had found before.
"Where the ocean meets the woods." Daartir described as he let his ears free from the hood, revealing a grey patch of thin hairs on top of his head. He threw his boots away from him, not bothering where they landed, and stormed off to the water. He clapped once and extended his arms, looking at the children. In less than two seconds, a spiral of water swirled around him, grabbing his legs and waist as if having a mind of its own, elevating him in the air.
"Today we will do some magic."
With a feeling of accomplishment bubbling in his veins, he pedalled off as fast as he could towards the road, eager to tell Mam what he had learned at the stream that day. Large fields on either side stretched as far as the eye could see, green and yellow colours decorating the landscape, which, although monotonous, made the journey home a pleasant one. With the wind in his face and ruffling his blond locks, he stood up a little to gain speed, knowing that in a few seconds he would pass by The Shack, a place made of pieces of metal and wood, most likely intended to store tools and equipment for field work but that for Bernard, it was the home of a wicked devil who took the children who passed by on the road. Or so Paddy had told him, and he knew a lot more about the area than he did.
He buzzed as fast as his thin legs would allow, barely noticing The Shack lag to his left. He sighed in relief at the sight of the stone wall on either side, indicating that the danger had passed, and sat back in the saddle, slowing down. He took a quick glance at his wristwatch, without stopping, and calculated the time he had been pedalling. Next stop: the White House. He stopped his knees, letting the momentum carry him along the road and enjoying the leafy yellow flowers that decorated the edges of the road, moving his legs every now and then to keep moving but not interested in gaining speed.
The sky suddenly clouded over, lowering the brightness of the colours of the landscape, and Bernard jerked violently as a shiver ran through his body. He lost control of the handlebars for an instant, causing him to lurch from side to side of the road. He let out a groan as he regained control, hoping he wouldn't have to jump off the bike to get his feet on the ground. Once he had steadied himself, he looked back for a second, checking that, even though the road was deserted, no one had seen his slip. He was sure his nose was red with unwarranted embarrassment.
The walls of The White House rose through the trees, and garden features appeared as he went: the clothesline with hanging clothes, the rusty swing, and the picnic table that, to his disappointment, no one was using. His stomach growled at the thought of the bread and butter he could have got, and he pedalled harder, wanting to get home as soon as possible.
The landscape suddenly changed, the trees became thicker around the road, forming a tunnel of leaves that shadowed the road and made it difficult to see the surroundings. As he dodged rocks and a few potholes (surely put there on purpose to disturb his cycling path), he thought about the tricky part of the road: the Yellow Farm Crossing.
"Let's see..." he muttered, "if to come, I turn right... to go back..." He reached the intersection faster than he had anticipated and, in a moment of short-circuit in his reasoning, headed for the road to the right so that, a tenth of a second later, he swerved left, raising a cloud of dirt around him. "Shit!"
He coughed a little as he continued on his way, forgetting about his slip when he remembered what was coming: Old Niall. A nasty old man who had no qualms about telling anyone who breathed near his tomatoes anything but compliments, including him. Especially him.
Bernard pedalled hesitantly, slowing down to steer the bike with one hand, while with the other he brushed dust from his hair and adjusted his rucksack on his shoulders. Squeezing the brake gently, he rode past the old man's house, inspecting the small orchard, and stopped after the last wooden plank of the fence.
He stretched out his legs and for the second that the bike remained balanced, Bernard leaned to one side, making anyone who saw him think he was about to fall to the ground. However, having had practice with a bike too big for his size, he put his foot on the ground at the last moment and jumped so that he could uncross his other leg.
He carefully set the bike down on the ground and crept over to old Niall's garden. All the curtains in the house were drawn and there was no sound from inside.
A single tomato hung from the plants behind the wood and, with an inexplicable thirst for revenge, he leaned over the planks that reached his stomach and stretched out his arm as far as he could. He lifted his heels off the ground for extra momentum, and the moment he brushed against the fruit, a clatter of keys broke the silence. In a last-ditch effort, and with his heart pumping at full speed, he grabbed the tomato and then yanked it, slipping away with his conquest before he was caught.
He looked back in terror as he put the prize in his backpack and with as much strength as his scrawny arms would allow him, he lifted the bicycle in a single movement. He started pedalling without sitting up fully and lost himself in the bushes and trees that were his accomplices in the crime that made him laugh out loud for a long time.
The density of the houses began to increase as he went on. White, yellow or green, the farmhouses in the area alerted Bernard that he was approaching the little village of Ballymore and thus the halfway point. He sped past the walls of the buildings, weaving through cats, litter, and several tractors that weren't supposed to be there. Engrossed with the idea of bragging about his impromptu theft to his siblings, he came to the fork in the road out of the village which, had he been more focused, he would have followed the wooden arrow that clearly indicated the road accessible to cars, which in white letters read 'Cobh'.
He turned off onto the dirt track to the left where the landscape was overshadowed by the trees towering over the stone walls, the leaves touching the canopy and creating an ever narrowing dark passageway that barely allowed a glimpse of the sky. Having travelled too far to turn back, Bernard kept moving, but with a strange feeling in the back of his neck.
The movement of the trees, the shadows across the trunks, the stony silence, the unfamiliar path and the idea somewhere in the back of his head that old Niall had run off after him, Bernard's mind began to become suggestible, swirling to be alert to every little change in his surroundings.
He was terrified.
He lightened his pace, desperate to find his way out of this increasingly cold tunnel. A strange figure appeared like a shadow in the distance and in no time it changed from a terrifying child-eating monster to a woman walking a dog.
Bernard stopped pedalling, as if it took his concentration away from breathing, and once he was calmer, he slowed down in front of her. She was an older woman, with very light blonde hair, almost white, on her shoulders. She was carrying a dog that Bernard couldn't tell if it was brown with white spots, or white with brown spots, but it was wagging its tail around the bike.
"Excuse me, ma'am..." he began almost breathlessly.
"Breathe, boy," she said in Irish, "where are you going in such a hurry?" she squealed, giving a tug on the leash. Bernard plopped down on one leg, watching as the dog sniffed at his heel. "He likes you."
"I'm going to Cobh, but on my way out of Ballymore..." he pointed back.
"Don't you worry, follow the path and when you get to the crossroads, always keep the sea on your left." she said with a smile. Bernard breathed a sigh of relief and, unable to resist, scratched the head of the dog that had sat next to him. He propelled himself with the foot he did have on the pedal and set off.
"Thank you very much! Have a nice day! Bye, Bye!"
They waved to each other as if they were lifelong friends and he left them behind, taking a deep breath.
The instructions could not have been clearer. The exit from the grove greeted him with blinding sunshine illuminating the entire bay, not a cloud in sight, the water of the sea reflecting the sun's rays on its surface and stretching all the way to the shores of Hadwell and Aghada. He slowed to focus and contemplate the wonderful day that had lingered after the morning clouds. He was stopped on a paved road. To his right, the road climbed slightly and as he turned, the new perspective opened his eyes. He knew exactly where he was! He had just found the usual path, only by a different entrance. He checked his watch and let out a sound like an 'hm' as he calculated that he had gained time with his mistake. The day couldn't get any better: he had learned to mould water, he had taken revenge on old Neill and found a secret shortcut his brothers didn't know about.
With a smile on his lips, he continued, this time unhurriedly, enjoying the sea air and the vivid colours of the countryside. After a few minutes, he knew he was approaching Cuskinny Beach and thought perhaps he could soak a little, just up to his knees, as he had more time than usual and would not be late home. He would even try to practise what he had learned in the forest to show his mother.
However, his plans took an unexpected turn when, as he faced the whole line of Cuskinny, he saw a girl sitting on the low wall separating the road from the small stretch of land leading to the sea. He slammed on the brakes.
The girl was facing him, sitting cross-legged in a brown dress that lent modesty to the slightly unbecoming posture. She looked Bernard's age, but he couldn't see her face. She was far away and also focused on something in front of her. Brown waves fell across her forehead despite her hair being in a braid. He got off the bike with a wrinkle between his eyebrows. This was his special place. No one ever went there, least of all the children, not even his siblings wanted to be there. They said it wasn't a "real beach" because of the lack of sand. He gripped the handlebars and pulled it to his side with a determined stride as he approached the intruder.
"Hey." He said in an angry tone, still walking. The girl raised her head and her brown eyes fell into his blue ones. She gave him the brightest smile Bernard had ever seen on anyone, and he stopped.
"Oh, hi." He barely noticed how sweet her voice sounded, distracted with how she seemed to treat him as if they knew each other. The girl waved and went about her task. That's when Bernard looked down at the stone wall, where she was working, concentrating on putting mud, pebbles and leaves into a jar. He raised his lip in a grimace of disgust and confusion and left his bicycle leaning against the wall. Remembering why he had stopped, he spoke again.
"You can't be here. Sorry." he blurted out firmly, his eyes flicking between her dirty hands and her pink complexion.
The girl stopped what she was doing and raised her head. With a serious look on her face, she replied.
"I can do whatever I want." She resumed her task as if Bernard were not there.
He was getting impatient. Who did she think she was? She couldn't come to his beach, to his wall, sit down and pretend she owned it.
"But I come here all the ti... what are you doing?" he asked in exasperation as he saw her cover the vial with her palm and shake it with both hands.
"Potions." she commented simply. "You can help me if you wish..."
Bernard's face lit up. A kid around his age and she was already doing potions? That was advanced magic, for grown-ups, you had to go to the Circles of energy and nature first...
He climbed the wall in front of her. All the jars, twigs and stones between them. He noticed she didn't follow any technique; she just put mud, stones and sand, stirred and added dirty water from the beach.
"That's not a potion." Bernard commented, growing increasingly nervous with her behaviour.
"Says who?" She looked at him again, serious, but after a few seconds she shrugged her shoulders. "It's just a game. But it amuses me to think it's potions. Then I draw on the rocks, and when it dries, the drawing is stuck."
Oh.
Oh.
He was one of those people Da talked about. A person without magic. But, they used to be in the centre of Cobh, the muggles, not on the coast road.
"What are you doing here? I've never seen you before."
She pointed a finger towards the sea, and Bernard followed the direction with his eyes. A red boat floated in the distance, a person seemed to be inside.
"I've come with my father. He's testing a new net."
"Ah..."
"Are you going to help me or not?"
He looked up again to find her holding out a bottle with brown water and floating seaweed. He accepted it without a word and poured the water into the container she indicated.
"Always put the mud in first because otherwise it's hard to mix." To reinforce her point, she raised her arms to show the patches of dried mud all over her skin. "You don't talk much, do you?"
"Well..."
"It's okay. I'm Julia! But everyone calls me Julie." Before she continued her concoction, she corrected, "Except Kira, but because she's dumb and mean and I don't want her to call me that."
He blinked rapidly at all the new information. "I'm Bernard."
"Hello Bernard! This can be a friendship potion now..."
When confusion and surprise left his body, Bernard reacted in the only way he could think of to what Julie was proposing.
"Alright, but for the potion to work we have to drink it."
Julie broke into a loud laugh, and Bernard had no choice but to join her. He never thought he was particularly funny and had no intention of doing so at the time, he just wanted her to be disgusted, but once again this girl left him speechless.
"Okay." she blurted. Bernard's eyes went wide. "What? You don't dare?"
"But… well... what if... what if this potion doesn't work like that?" he managed to dodge what could be something that would make him vomit. "Maybe it's enough to get on our skin. Like that." He pointed at her arms. "And when it dries, it means we're friends."
"Sounds good to me!" she chirped, following the logic of the plan. "But this potion is missing something... It has to be different from the others."
They stood in thought, looking at the materials at their disposal and every now and then looking towards the soft waves on the shore. After a while of comfortable silence, Bernard shouted excitedly, making his new friend jump.
"I've got it!" He took off his backpack and put it on his lap. He rummaged inside, and held out the tomato, now a little dented.
"Perfect." she whispered. She took it out of his hands and with one of the twigs she had she poked a hole in it and then squeezed out the juice into the jar. She stirred again and held out her palms as if she were presenting a discovery. "I'll start!" She dipped two fingers into what was mostly mud and scooped some out. Without giving him time to think, she rubbed them up and down Bernard's cheek.
"Hey!" He mimicked her with indignation and amusement in equal parts, and rubbed the mud on her cheek, leaving an identical stain.
"There!" she said triumphantly. "When it dries, we'll become friends. Although..." she trailed off. "I've never done this with anyone before, so... I guess we already are."
After an hour, Bernard went home with a warm feeling in his chest. At first he went slowly, not wanting to leave his new friend on the beach alone, but looking at his watch, he started pedalling as fast as he could, making excuses, knowing what he'd get for being late, practising his best angelic face, and trying not to let his lungs burn from all the effort he was putting in.
He arrived in record time, but when he reached the gate leading to the house, he slammed on the brakes so hard that a high-pitched sound came from the bike.
A group of strangers emerged from the inside of the road. There were four of them and they were all dressed in black, with matching triangle necklaces. The tallest of them noticed Bernard and gave him a macabre, toothy grin. The boy shuddered.
Suddenly, they all disappeared into thin air with a faint 'puff'. Just then, his father appeared through the gate, striding out with a more serious expression than usual. He saw Bernard and snapped his fingers as he pointed behind him.
"Get in the house. Now."
Without complaint, Bernard hopped off his bike and walked onto the road, dodging his father's attempt to wipe the smudge off his face. And as if the rest of the morning hadn't happened, the day darkened for more reasons than the clouds in the sky.