Disclaimer: My version of the 'Harry goes to a different school' plot line.

Shamrock

"What is it?" Petunia demanded. She didn't' like the looks of the woman on her doorstep. It wasn't anything she could put her finger on, but there was something . . . freakish about the woman.

"Does a young boy named Harry Potter live here?" The woman demanded.

"I don't see how that's any of your . . ."

"Yes or no?" The woman snapped.

"Yes."

"Is he turning nine tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"What is he doing here?" The woman asked. "Our records show that he should have been placed with his godfather Sirius Black?"

"What records?" Petunia asked hesitantly.

"You are aware that his mother registered his birth at the consulate are you not?"

"The consulate . . . . I'll have none of that," Petunia said harshly. "We're loyal subjects of the queen in this house. I've renounced my citizenship, now be off."

"You may have given up yours," the woman said. "But Harry is still an Irish national and as such . . ."

"I renounce it," Petunia said harshly. "Now get out."

"You can't," the woman countered. "Now as I was saying. As an Irish national, Harry is eligible for admission to the Scoil ar Draíocht."

"Draíocht?" Petunia said slowly, the half forgotton lessons her mother had given on the mother tongue provided the answer. "You're one of them," she accused. "How dare you come into my house you freak."

"Take me to Harry Potter now." The woman's wand appeared in her hand.

"You . . . you can't," Petuna stammered as she fell back.

"Try me."

"In the cupboard under the stairs," Petunia broke. Her eyes remained fixed on the tip of the woman's wand."

"Dul a chodlah," the woman incanted. She watched with a satisfied smile as Petunia slumped to the ground. With a sigh, she approached the cupboard and opened the door. "Harry . . . are you there?"

"Who are you?" The dirty young boy asked with a shiver.

"My name is Aingeal Murchadha," the woman said gently. "Would you like me to take you away from here?"

"Yes," Harry said hopefully. "I would like that very much."

"Then take my hand." Harry reached up and grabbed the woman's hand as tightly as his little hands would allow and they disappeared with a pop, hopefully never to return.

Back in Albus Dumbledore's office, a small instument began spinning wildly. It is quite unfortunate that the Headmaster was not around to see it.

"Where are we?" Harry asked. They had arrived in a large clover field. "How'd we get here?"

"Back in your native land," the woman replied with a smile. She bent down and picked one of the clovers. "And look what I've got for 'ye, a four leaf clover. Make your own luck and you won't need it. But it's also better to have something and not need it, then to need something and not have it." She threaded it through one of his button holes. "Now come with me Harry, we have things to do and not much time to do it in."

"How'd we get here?" Harry repeated.

"Magic," the woman said with a smile. "Your father was a wizard and your mother a witch like I am."

"Can I learn?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Indeed you can," she replied. "If you like."

"I do."

"Then we shall enroll you in the Scoil ar Draíocht right away, or you can wait another two years and go to Hogwarts if you like."

"I don't want to wait," Harry said firmly.

"Not many do," the woman laughed. "One of the reasons that our school starts two years early."

"What's the other?"

"Other what?"

"Reason."

"Ah, it gives our students two years on their rivals to the north. Take any advantage you can if the stakes are high enough. Take any moral advantage if they are not, two more years of study is a very moral choice don't you think."

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

"As you have no parents and we can not find your godfather, you have been declared a ward of the state. Is there anyone you'd like us to contact for you?"

"No . . . no one cares about me," Harry said sadly.

"That's not true Harry," Aingeal said softly. "Your country cares, it cared enough to send me to get you. You're Irish Harry, we always look after our own. It took us nine years to learn that you were in trouble and I am deeply sorry for the delay."

"That's ok," Harry said softly.

"It is not ok," the woman disagreed. "It is inexcusable that we did not know to check on you before now, but we know now and we shall never make that mistake again."

"Thank you," Harry said softly.

"Come with me," the woman said to break the uncomfortable silence. "We still have to get your school supplies."

"I don't . . . I don't have any money."

"As a ward of the state, you don't need any. The government will take care of you as if you were it's child."

"So . . . does that mean it's my parents?" Harry asked slowly.

"I suppose that you could see things that way," the woman agreed.

"Parents," the boy whispered the word as if it were the most precious thing in the world. "Let's go." The woman took Harry by the hand and led him across the field and onto a country road.

"The British may have their Knight bus," she began. "But we have our own ways of getting around."

IIIIIIIIII

Dumbledore returned to his office and paused for a second, something seemed . . . off about the office. He looked around and his first sweep did not turn up anything amiss or signs that someone had entered without his permission. Shrugging the matter off, he turned to his long overlooked paperwork. After all it wasn't like there was anything important he needed to do.

IIIIIIIIII

"Where are we now?" Harry asked. They were in front of a small stone cottage surrounded by a stone wall.

"We're at a wand carver's house," Aingeal replied. "Everything else you need can be purchased at the school."

"I get my own wand?"

"Your very own." She raised her hand and gave a sharp rap on the door.

"What're ya needing?" A young woman asked as she opened the door.

"This is Harry, the young boy I told you about."

"So you'll be needing a wand then?" The strange woman asked. "Try this one. Yew with a unicorn hair." Harry took the wand and shot his savior a confused look.

"Wave it," Aingeal advised. Harry shrugged and complied with the woman's instructions.

"Nothing," the wand maker said to herself as she took another wand. "How about this one, oak with a hair of a pooka. . . no huh. How about this, blackthorn with the thread of a banshee's robe." Harry gave the wand another wave and was shocked to see red sparks come out of the end. "Close, very close." The wand maker said with a satisfied smile. "Try this one, yew with a thread from a banshee's robe." Harry gave the wand a wave.

"Nothing happened," He said with a frown.

"Yes. . . not the core then. Blackthorn with a Merrow hair maybe?" Harry gave the wand an experimental wave and nearly dropped it when it left a visible and lasting gash in the air. "That's the stuff, still one thing missing though." The woman's eyes darted around the room until they fixed on the shamrock still looped through Harry's button hole. "Mind if I take this?"

"Sure," Harry stammered. He watched in fascination as the woman took the shamrock and laid it gently on the handle of his new wand. "What are you doing?"

"Inlaying it into the handle," the woman replied absently. "It'll add a bit of focus and give you a bit of luck. Done, take your wand young wizard."

Harry took the wand and gave it a wave. "Nothing happened?"

"Your lucky shamrock is adding enough control to prevent your magic from leaking out the tip," the wand maker explained. "Try it again but this time, want it to show you something." Harry waved his wand again and this time he produced a faint flower that faded out of existence after a few seconds. "Very nice and welcome home lad."

"Home?"

"Eire is your home now Harry," Aingeal said gently. "And your wand proves it. Only a native son would have that combination."

"Home," Harry said again. This time as a statement.

"That's right, home. How much for the wand?"

"Four Florins and two Scillings," the wand maker replied.

Aingeal dug around in her purse for a few seconds and handed over the coins. "I'll also be needing a jar of polish, a case, and a holster."

"They come with the wand, would you like me to wrap everything up?"

"Please."

AN: Lilly is an Irish name and I'm not sure I've seen this story line before. Lilly and Petunia have an Irish mother and their births were registered with the Irish government. Lilly registered Harry and Petunia renounced her citizenship. The Irish consulate or maybe some sort of magical item at the magic school alerted them to Harry's treatment and they investigated. Dorothy McComb is the only one I can think of that had her (non-Brit) school start a few years earlier then Hogwarts, kudos to her for that. My Gaelic is all based on the internet. My attempts to learn it as a child did not end well. Suppose I'll have to think up an Irish counterpart to the Knight Bus if I ever get around to writing this.

dul a chodlah – go to sleep

Scoil ar Draíocht – school of magic

Potaire – Potter also means Drunkard and thus ends the idea of giving Harry a nice Gaelic name.

ardmháistir – Headmaster

A few Omake: Some loose scenes for the above. I'll incorporate them if I ever get around to writing more of this.

His first friend . . .

"Hello." A small girl in a red hat with a slightly greenish cast regarded Harry with undisguised curiosity. "My name is Colleen O'Connell."

"Harry Potter," Harry said in a low voice.

"Wanna be friends Harry?" The girl asked brightly.

"Ok," Harry agreed.

"Are you the first wizard in your family?" Colleen asked. "I'm the first witch but ma was a Merrow so I guess that's where it comes from."

"I think my parents were magical," Harry ventured.

"So we're both starting out on the same foot then," the girl said confidently.

Exchange . . .

"But surely ardmháistir you realise that the boy must go to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said in frustration. Didn't these people realise what was at stake.

"I'm not sure I do Mr. Dumbledore."

"There is no other place in the world that he can get an education of comparable quality." Dumbledore didn't notice the way the man's fist tightened around his pipe. "And it's inconceivable that any child would turn down the chance to study magic anywhere else if given then choice."

"Why don't we find out then?" Dumbledore's counterpart suggested.

"Find out what?" Albus asked dumbly.

"If any child would study magic anywhere else if given the choice of course," he said with a grin.

"I . . ."

"Hold your comments until after I've had a chance to speak with the boy," The Ardmháistir said sharply. "Send Harry in." The two old men waited in silence until Harry came through the door.

"You sent for me sir?"

"Mr. Dumbledore has a proposal for you Harry and I'd like to get an idea of what you think of it."

"Yes sir," Harry agreed.

"Harry, my name is Albus Dumbledore and I'm here to give you a chance to study at Hogwarts school for witchcraft and wizardry. The oldest and most prestigious wizarding school in all the world."

"Where is it?" Harry asked slowly.

"In Scotland and . . ."

"I'd have to leave Eire?" Harry asked in alarm. "No thank you sir, I'm quite happy where I am."

Diplomatic pressure . . .

"But Harry Potter belongs in the United Kingdom," Dumbledore protested. "The fact that he was taken from his home by agents of your government is nothing less then kidnapping."

"But he wasn't taken from his home Mr. Dumbledore," the ambassador said mildly.

"What?"

"Petunia Dursley did not have legal custody of young Harry, my government was simply caring for one of it's orphans. Something I'll note was approved by the British government beforehand."

"The muggle government maybe but . . . "

"But that's all that matters, unless you can produce the boy's godfather then I'm afraid you must accept the fact that you have no legal ground to stand on. Good day Mr. Dumbledore."

"But Sirius Black is in Azkaban," Dumbledore protested. "As a criminal, he has no legal right to the boy."

"Really?" The ambassador purred. "I haven't found any record of a trial. Without that, Sirius Black is not a criminal. He's a tragic young man your Ministry is holding under duress, perhaps I should file a protest with the International Confederation of Wizards? I'm sure you'll agree that such a blatant abuse of a man's basic rights can't be ignored by a civilized nation after all."

Securing custody . . .

"Sirius look at me," Dumbledore commanded. "How would you like to receive more food, better blankets, and more time away from the dementors?"

"How?" Sirius croaked.

"Just sign this paper," Dumbledore said intently.

"What?" Sirius tried to focus on the document. "Harry?"

"Yes Harry," Dumbledore agreed. "Now sign."

"Why do you want Harry?" Sirius demanded. "What's wrong."

"Sign the bloody paper," Dumbledore said impatiently.

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH HARRY?" Sirius roared. "TELL ME."

"Guard," Dumbledore called out. It was obvious that Black wouldn't cooperate today, perhaps next week.

As Dumbledore left, one thought kept racing through Sirius's brain. Harry was in trouble, he had to get out of this place to save his godson.