"C'mon, Jack!  Heel!  C’mon boy…”

Oliver tugged on the leash to get his full-grown golden retriever, Jack, to abide by his command.  No such luck.  The eight-year-old canine still thought that he was a puppy, and was trying to prove that to the boy by rolling around in the dirt, barking every squirrel it saw, and even helping himself to a bowl of mixed fruit that a young couple had brought to the park for their picnic.  Before ever stepping foot into this grassy area, Oliver’s daily routine of walking Jack was going by rather well.  He’d sniffed at a mailman, finished his ‘business’ twice, and was sticking by Oliver’s side without going too far out or taking full advantage of the lengthened lead that had been rewarded to him early on in their walk.

“Come on, Jack!” he beseeched his family’s pet.  “You know better than this, boy!  Come on…”

He had to take away the dog’s privilege of the lengthy slack of his leash by winding some of the leather cord around his hand.  He pulled him to a stop and told him to ‘sit’.  To his surprise, he did, though he was panting.  For a moment, Oliver thought that he was thirsty.  He’d loaded his backpack with a couple of bottles of water and even Jack’s water dish before they left his house.  It was a hot day out, so he didn’t’ see the harm in heading out prepared.  

He set the leash down on the grass and slid his backpack off, using both hands to open the zipper of the main compartment.

“You thirsty, bu-"

He could have kicked himself!  He’d made the dumbest mistake of his life, and it was too late to do anything about it now.

He’d let go of the leash.

In the blink of an eye, Jack was up and running off towards the grassy knoll, yapping his head off excitedly.  Oliver remained momentarily frozen.

~Bloody hell!~ he thought to himself.

“Jack!” he shouted, zipping his backpack up and taking off after his dog.  “Come back!”    

With a small, road-roughened pack on her back, Mairead had set out for another day of exploring London.   Though it wasn't her usual pattern, until now, most of her romps in London had had a distinct target: Diagon Alley.  Back in Ireland, Mairead's explorations were entirely random - following her whims.  But the excitement and mysticism of Diagon Alley had been so grand that, for several weeks, it was her primary draw.  But, today, she was back to her usual random wanderings with a familiar purpose in mind. 

To get money. 

Her last trip into Diagon Alley had taught her one important lesson.  There was really way too much cool stuff in that place to not have some spending money.  The wands, the brooms, the candy, the jokes and the ice cream shop.  She needed her own pocket money.  Chances were, if she asked Opie for money, the woman would give her some.  But, if there was a belief that Mairead's parents had instilled in her it was a disdain for charity.

Panhandling and playing music for pocket change wasn't charity.  It was work.  Hard work, in fact. 

Without admitting to her activities, Mairead had promised Opie she'd be back before dinner.  With Ailill, the purple puffskein she'd stolen in Diagon Alley, tucked away in her pocket, Mairead set out to wandering London in search of a "good spot." 

The park had seemed an ideal place - the weather was lovely and it put people in a good mood.  People usually came to parks to relax and stroll leisurely.  It was a place that they'd be more likely to linger and listen to a tune. 

Her flute had been assembled and the case set out in an unmissable request for payment just as a large, excitable Golden Retriever came bounding towards her.  Grinning as she watched the dog, she whistled brightly, clapping her hands.  "'Allo, ye goofy.  Did ye loose someone?" she asked the dog, reaching out to pet him before looking around for a bewildered looking owner.

“There you are!”

Oliver came running up to the pair a few moments later, struggling to catch his breath.  His hair was windblown and his eyes were wide.  There was Jack, and for a second, he was about to call out to him to leave the girl alone.  However, as he approached them, he saw her reach out to pet him.  The dog lapped at her hand affectionately and wagged his tail excitedly when she canoodled him.  When he saw Oliver approaching, he licked the girl's hand one more time before running towards the boy.  He greeted him by supporting himself on his rear legs and licking Oliver all over his face.  Chortling whole-heartily, he managed to calm the dog down long enough to clip the leash back onto his collar.

“You got to stop running away like that, Jack,” he murmured under his breath.  “Okay?”

Jack circled the boy and proceeded to sniff his shoe.  Oliver laughed.

“Okay!  Apology accepted, boy.”

He stood up and brushed himself off.  Harnessing the leash more securely onto his hand, he made his way over to the girl.

“I’m sorry about that!  I should have known better than to let his leash go.”

He held his hand out to her and gave her a friendly smile.

“I’m Oliver, by the way!  Yourself?”

A boy - about her age it seemed - came racing up after the dog, leash in hand.  Mairead only glanced up briefly before turning back to the dog.  After tucking her flute in her back pocket, she scratched the dog's head.  "What's yer name, Mr," she asked the dog, her fingers scratching the side of the dog's face.  With a last flick of his tongue, the dog turned tail and jogged over to the boy. 

Having heard the boy's murmured response to the dog, Mairead grinned and shrugged her shoulders.  "But, dogs like to run.  They like to race and chase and, ye know, run around."  He's only doing what dogs like to do."  Back home, unless they were in a city and had no choice, they rarely kept their dogs on leash. 

Mairead shook her head at his apology.  It seemed a strange thing to apologize for; all the dog did was come say hi.  "It's alright," she said, clearly confused by the apology.  "I almost never keep me dog on a leash.  She gets depressed." 

She took the extended hand and gave it a hearty shake.  "Mairead," she offered in response.  "And, what's his name?" she nodded towards the dog.

“Can’t be too careful with this one, though,” Oliver said, patting the side of his dog’s bullion torso.  “Let him off his leash, and he’s bound to form some sort of a dilemma!”

It was true.  Jack was a friendly dog and great around other people, but he still had the mindset of a puppy.  This entire ordeal was proof of that.  Nobody could let him off of his leash without him taking off on them.  He’d been in for obedience training, but even after an entire year of weekly classes with a professional trainer, the dog still perceived himself as a free-spirit.  The classes weren’t for nothing, though; he still understood basic commands like ‘Sit’ and ‘Speak’.  It was his excitableness that made him the crazy, yet all the more loveable pet that he was.

“Jack,” he replied, standing back up.  “He’s eight, but Lord, he acts like a pup sometimes!”

He released her offered hand and adjusted the shoulder strap of his backpack.

"Are you from around here?" he asked.

Mairead grinned, watching the Golden Retriever as he sat, seemingly completely innocently, by the boy's side.  The dog seemed friendly and innocent looking enough, but she figured she'd take the boy's word for it about the dog.

"Isn't that what dogs are for?" she asked, shrugging.  Not that she and her friends needed help forming dilemmas but a dog's ability to join in just made it more enjoyable.  "That's part of the fun."

The dogs Mairead grew up with at home never went to any sort of class - the puppies they bred and sold were raised and trained the old fashioned way.  They ran along side the adults, coping the older dogs as they did their job.  But, they were not pets - they were working, hunting dogs. 

"Wow.  He's eight?" she asked, surprised by the information.  The dog did, indeed, behave much more like a puppy then the age suggested. 

Mairead shook her head.  "Naw.  I'm not from here.  Me family's back in Ireland.  I'm just here for the summer before going to school in the fall.  I'm going to school in Scotland."  Mairead knew she wasn't supposed to talk about the details of the wizarding school but she couldn't seen any dangerous details in what she'd said.  "You?" she returned the question.

He shrugged.  Sure, Jack had never shown any sign of hostility towards another.  That fact aside, though, he was still too carefree for his own good.  His curiosity and over-eagerness to do things would lead him to trouble one day, hence why he was always kept on a leash.  A short one at that.

“Yeah, he’s eight.  Hard to believe, yeah?  Lord, we got him when I was three, and I can’t remember a day when he was quiet or shy.  He’s really people-friendly.  I’ve taught him a few tricks over the years, too.”

To show her what he meant, he made an ‘L’ shape with his hand and pointed his index finger at the dog.

"Jack… bang!”

To his satisfaction – and sheer amusement – Jack dropped to the ground and rolled over onto his back, sticking all four of his paws into the air.  His tongue was hanging out of his mouth and he barked twice, wagging his tail expectantly.  He pushed his head forward and pressed his big black nose against Oliver’s pocket.  He laughed and scratched Jack behind the ear, putting his hand into his pocket and pulling out a small baggie of dog treats.

“I suppose so,” he said.  “But he’s already run off on us twice in the past.  Don’t want to risk that happening again!”

He performed a gentle underhand toss, and once the treat was airborne, Jack leapt up and caught in his snout.  Oliver bent down and scratched him behind his ear, tittering all the while.

“Good boy,” he said, grinning.

"Naw.  I'm not from here.  Me family's back in Ireland.  I'm just here for the summer before going to school in the fall.  I'm going to school in Scotland.  You?”

“I’m going to school in the fall, too,” he said.  “To Hogwarts.  What school in Ireland are you going to?”

Unbeknownst to Oliver, telling another person who could have easily been mistaken for a Muggle about the school for magical youngsters was a huge gaffe.  Thinking that his response was as innocent as it sounded, he absent-mindedly ruffled the fur on Jack’s back.  The dog’s ears were folded back and his nose was pointed towards the tree that a chipmunk had run up only moments before. 

"It is hard to believe," Mairead admitted with a grin, reaching out to pet the dog again.  "Will he ever grow up?" she asked, though it seemed doubtful.  "Me girl's not that friendly with others.  She's not mean.  She's just ... lurchers tend to be one-person dogs."

She watched with amusement as Oliver showed off Jack's trick.  It was funny, especially when the dog wagged his tail.  "I don't think dead dogs are happy," she said, with a laugh.  "How'd ye teach it?" 

While the dog was still lying on his back, Mairead set her flute down on top of her bag and knelt over to scratch the dog's belly.  He was a funny dog - much more playful and whimsical than her own.  "Won't he come back?" Mairead asked, curiously, looking up.  It didn't seem that big of a problem to her that a dog would run away.  Her dogs did that all the time, but they always came back.  Usually, with a delicious dinner in their teeth. 

"Yer going to Hogwarts, too!" Mairead exclaimed, excitedly.  "So ... that means, yer ...  ye know ... ye can do all that stuff," as she spoke, she waved her fist in the air in a lazy pantomime of what she'd seen the older witches and wizards do at Hogwarts.  "Are ye starting next year?"  She blushed slightly and shook her head.  "I haven't.  I never been to any school, really.  In Ireland or here." 

He laughed.

“I don’t think he will.  He may once he’s older, but for the time being, I love him just the way he is.

“What kind of a dog is she?” he asked her when she mentioned her own.  “I wouldn’t worry too much about that.  Some dogs are more laid back than others.  We had another dog before we got Jack.  She was a labradoodle, but really non-social.  We had to have her put down, though, because she had some kind of nasty infection.”

Jack was still lying his back, his tail still fluttering about.  Oliver bent down and scratched his stomach, knowing that it was one of the dog’s favorite places to be rubbed.

“It took a while, but Jack and I grew up with one another.  I’ve never let him off of his leash long enough for him to run off before, but I’m pretty sure he’d come back.  I don’t want to risk it, though.  As excitable as he may be, he listens to me most of the time.  Today was an exception, I guess.  I don’t bring him here often enough.”

He stood back up and brushed the back of his pants off. 

“Yeah, I’m starting this Fall!  My mum and dad showed me some old pictures of their time there.  I’ve never been to the school myself, but it looks like a really cool place!”

"Eithne is a lurcher," Mairead answered, with a grin. "She's quite a bit taller than Jack.  But, she's only three."  Despite her age, though, from what Mairead could tell, she behaved much more maturely than this boy's dog. 

She nodded her head.  "Our dogs are pretty different form each other, too," she admitted.  Despite being the same type of dog, their personalities varied quite a bit.  "Our friends' lurcher, Cormac, is pretty hornery.  He gets annoyed with the puppies really quickly and doesn't like strangers.  But Aengus is really easy going.  We only have the three dogs with us - we're supposed to be looking for another female soon, though." 

Mairead had never grown up with one particular dog; Eithne was the first that was really hers and had been whelped a few years ago.  But, she could relate to the boy's sentiment.  "I grew up with me da's horse, Cuchulainn.  He was the first I rode and he's the daddy of my horse.  He's pretty gentle."   

She couldn't help grinning broadly; for the first time, she was around someone that she knew more about this school then them.  She hadn't just seen pictures.  "I been there!" she declared, proudly.  "It is really amazing.  And big!  Like a castle in a movie.  There are tall towers and knights and armor that attacks you and giggling fruit!  You can eat whenever you want to!" 

“Three dogs?” he mused, smiling as he imagined owning three dogs that had the same personality as his golden retriever.  The thought was amusing, yet frightening at the same time!  He and his parents had a hard enough time keeping up with Jack, but trying to man three dogs like him?   The idea seemed quite impractical.  As much as he loved him, he couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be to raise more than one highly-excitable golden retriever.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Oliver said.  “Horseback riding I mean.  But living in London all my life, I rarely get to visit the countryside.

“I’ve seen pictures of Ireland before,” he added.  “In books.  It’d be nice to go there someday, I think.  I was raised in London.  My mum used to live in France and my dad in Westchester.  They moved here before I was born.”

There were knights at Hogwarts?  Giggling fruit?  He laughed.  From what he’d seen in Diagon Alley, he wouldn’t have been surprised if there really were giggling fruits and vengeful knights in full sets of armor in Hogwarts.  The more she told him about this seemingly fascinating place, the more enthralled and beguiled he became.

“It sounds incredible!” he effused, a grin slowly spreading across his face.  “I can’t wait to go there!  Did you get your letter, too?  Your Hogwarts letter?”     

Mairead nodded her head, proudly.  "Yep!  Three dogs.  And, seven horses.  But, then, there's eleven of us.  So, you know, it kind of evens out."  At least, as far as she could figure it worked out.  It wasn't like it was three dogs to one or two people.  And, as she'd already noted, their dogs seemed to grow up much faster.  They lived alongside their animals in such close proximity that well behaved animals was such a necessity. 

It was strange; this boy's perspective could have been as close to the opposite from her own as one could get.   She couldn't fathom having never been on horseback - even when they were in the city they had their horses with them.  Of course, it was one of the many reasons the settled people complained about them.  "I was riding before I knew how to walk.  'Course me da was usually on the horse with me."

Mairead grinned, excitedly.  "Have ye ever seen the pictures of those people in Ireland?  Who go around everywhere in their wagons?  And their spotted horses?  Like gypsies?  That's us."  She announced proudly, poking her chest with her thumb, lest there was any confusion who she was speaking of.  "I never been anywhere but Ireland, ye know?  This is me first time away.  Oisin, the grandpa of our group went to the States once.  He tells us all the stories."

"It is incredible!"  Mairead declared, loudly, to the surprise of a woman walking by.  The woman cast her a curious glance but, after noticing Mairead's tattered, second-hand outfit and the instrument case set out in obvious expectation of money, she hurried on her way.  Mairead seemed to take no note of the woman's reaction and plowed on.  "I been there!  I stayed there a few days!  It was amazing.  I - yeah ... well, this witch did come bring me this letter.  But, I can't really read it so I, ye know, don't really know what it says.  I mean, I know the basics.  But - I have to have Ms. Opie read it." 

“Seven horses...!?” he repeated, his eyes alive with wonder.  He couldn’t imagine owning a horse, let alone seven of them!  He was born and raised a city boy, but his fondness of the countryside made that thought quite exciting.  “Wow!”

He grinned again as Jack sprang to his feet, sensing Oliver’s suden titillation.  Standing up on his hind paws, he began to sniff his pocket again. 

“Okay, okay.  Calm down, boy!”

Laughing, Oliver fed his dog another bone-shaped treat, brushing his hand off on his pant leg after Jack slobbered all over his palm to get his reward.  Satisfied, he lay back down on the ground, shifted to his side and proceeded to sniff the grass.

“I’ve seen some of those pictures,” he said.  “I go to the bookstore sometimes with my dad.  I love looking through the books.  Fiction mostly.  But sometimes, I like to read about other places in the world.  It’s interesting.”

“Do you have the letter with you?” he queried.  “I might be able to read it for you.”

Mairead grinned broadly and nodded her head proudly.  "Yep.  Seven.  Well, six full grown.  Nechtan was just born a few months ago.  So, he only kind of counts.  Dian Cécht is me own horse.  But, I can't bring him to school, apparently.  He's staying with me mum and da." 

She watched as the dog grew restless, grinning as he pestered the boy for a treat.  "So, what does he do?"  She asked, curiously.   "Other than ask for food." 

"We're in books?" Mairead asked, amazement in her voice.  "Do they actually, ye know, write about us?  That'd be crazy - wonder what they say." She grinned as she considered the prospects.  Were there pictures of her or her family in a book somewhere?  How strange would it be. 

Mairead shook her head.  "Naw.  I left it back at where I'm staying.  I came out to try to get some money - there's so much cool stuff to buy from these wizard people!  You should see their sundays.  They are  ... unbelievable.  And ... the candy moves!  I want to get me some of these frizbee things that try to bite people.  You should come!"

“Horses aren’t allowed at Hogwarts?” he asked.  “Huh… I wonder why that is…”

So far, everything Mairead had told him about this school for magical youngsters seemed so surreal, that he figured one could do just about anything there.  He wondered just how extravagant this place was; he’d seen pictures of it, but he’d never actually been there.  Nonetheless, he was certainly excited for the new term!

“Well,” he began, rubbing the retriever behind his ear.  “He’s a great guard dog, even though we don’t live in a very dangerous neighborhood.  He barks at just about every car and person who walks by our house.  He’s chased the mailman around before, so we had to take his doggy door out of our front door.”

He grinned at the thought.  Even as a puppy, Jack was as reckless as a cyclone.

“He’s a good dog, though,” he said, coming to the dog’s defense in case Mairead got the wrong idea about him from the get go.  He wasn’t some obnoxious animal without any manners.  “Sure, he may be a tad excitable,” he added, “but he’d never harm anyone.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever read anything about you,” he said, narrowing his eyes as he thought hard about the books he’d seen.  “Don’t remember ever seeing a picture of you in any of em’.  I could be mistaken, though.”

He grinned.

“It moves?” he asked her, wondering what kind of candy moved.  “Wizards?  You mean like, Merlin from King Arthur?  Have you met him?”

“You should come!"

“Could I?” he asked excitedly, his eyes widening as his thoughts became even more wondrous and he became more animated.  “How?”