It was an old, its varnish had been coated over from regular wear, its registration numbers were fading, its birch twigs had been noticeably re-grown and trimmed from the original stock, and it taught Naomi that she had little to no concept of money, but the Firebolt was familiar and sturdy as Naomi pulled tricks on it through the wet breeze and beat of the sunny day.

 It was a great day for mucking around the pitch even if the fear of werewolves left most of the grounds socially barren.

The Slytherin really couldn't complain, especially since the lack of Ravenclaws made it less likely that her brother would discover his little sister swiped his broom. Again. It was like an old muggle racing bike: classic, customizable, and well-cared for, by the owner and his friends, despite the newer makes and brooms being churned out by the sports industry. There were newer features, a new international standard, and higher prices. But that didn't stop the Foley siblings from churning the most fun they could out of an older model—neither did werewolves.

Naomi floated to halt and tossed a puckered and distasteful gaze towards the forest. They could run out around in the daylight, for whatever reason, but not even experimental breeding could get them to grow wings. Then a black dot flapped near the hospital hut. Reason craned a black eyebrow high on the young witch’s forehead.

 She Rationalized it into something else lazing around the paddocks, and, as she swept towards it, observation formed the figure into a lone chained inky black hippogriff[1] pecking at the ground behind some stables.

After whipping off the broom, keeping eye-contact, and trying to pay some respects with some over-the-fence conversion and bows, it trusted her enough to let her sit on the fence, but seemed to be more interested in acknowledging her presence, but ultimately ignoring her by sunbathing as she propped the end of her broom on the fence and looped her arm around the broom’s wooden shaft.

She leaned her back into an upright posture with crossed her legs and a hand braced against the railing of the fence, as she watched the hippogriff soak in the rays. The dewy chill from the shade of buildings lingered with Naomi’s boredom, faulting her into barely turning her gaze to an approaching sound to properly identify the source, and whether or not she should take off again.

1.	source1 source2

Mairead had observed something over the span of her months at Hogwarts.  A lot of the kids were here to be students and played quidditch on the side.  Mairead was the other way around.  Thus far, the whole student thing was hard and she didn't quite like it.  Not yet, at least.  As far as she was concerned, far her, the balance was altered.  She was here to play quidditch ... well, she would be here to play quidditch as soon as she could get on the team.  All that student stuff was just a secondary evil to that. 

Schoolwork had been established as the necessary hurtle to flying and quidditch early on.  From the very beginning.  Grace had given Mairead her old broom as motivation (or a bribe) to stay diligent to her studies and do her homework.  She did give her schoolwork the (bare minimum) attention it required when it required it but flying came first. 

She tossed herself on her broom - Eimar, as she'd named it - the moment she'd cleared the castle and sped out to the lawns.  It was getting on spring which meant there was an abundance of flying critters to practice seeking on: butterflies (though they were a little boring in their tendency to flutter in place), birds (more exciting, especially when you happened upon the wrong bird and became the target rather than the seeker) or bats (if there was time in the evening.)

Some days she spotted other flyers, some days they were all too diligent with their homework.  Today, she had spotted someone: an older girl and one she remembered standing next to when that overly anxious Slytherin did a gnarly number of Professor Storm's arm.  Mairead watched the girl's trek across the sky and followed. 

She touched ground just outside the paddock and started towards the fence, trying as hard as possible to give the impression she'd planned to be there independently of the other girl's presence.  She hadn't, yet, noticed the massive dark creature in the paddock and didn't until she'd propped the broom along the fence and scrambled up to sit on it a rail down from the girl. 

"Dún do bheal!" she breathed as she noticed the creature.  "What the bloody 'ell is that?"

A familiar pipsqueak first year was the result of the approaching noise, casual at first, until she saw the hippogriff, and then turned to a very excitable and carefree child; Naomi immediately discarded any idea of remembering the kid and dropped her brother's broom to prop against the side of the fence as she eyed the creature and reached for the kid's arm.

• "Dún do bheal!" she breathed as she noticed the creature.  "What the bloody 'ell is that?"

The Hippogriff's feathers bristled as it raised its head and slowly turned it's bright eyes to face the two girls on the fence, but Naomi reached under the younger girl's shoulder and yanked her off the fence before the creature lifted itself to its feet and started to stalk the fence, "Girl!"

"Look him in th' eyes; don't blink, and chill," The Slytherin watched the winged creature watch them over the fence, hoping that he had a high tolerance level, "Fi you want to sit on th' fence just act proper and bow." Naomi broke her own eye-contact with the creature, having already gone through this, and her eyes fell to her side to rest on the younger witch.

Everything was going great!  Mairead was sitting on the top of a fence with an (older!), familiar student watching the weirdest, though most magnificent animal she'd ever seen.  Other than Macha, of course.  Mairead doubted there was really anything out there that could have upstaged the runespoor.  But, since Macha wasn't present, this much larger beast would have to do. 

And, everything was going great.  For, at least one brief, fleeting moment. 

In the next moment, several things happened at once.  The creature turned towards Mairead just as something grabbed her from behind and pulled her off the fence.  Without even enough time to spare a thought as to who tugged her and why, Mairead whirled around and immediately took the defensive.  Mairead's arm was drawn back, her small fist aimed right for the other girl's stomach when reasoning caught up with her and she actually listened to what Naomi had to say. 

"I- chill?"  Mairead glanced over her shoulder as her fist slowly fell to her side, repeating the word as if it sounded completely foreign to her ears.  Which, in all likelihood, it was.  But, without further hesitation, she did what she was told.  She met the beady bird eyes and held the gaze, resisting the temptation to look towards the older girl when she was told to bow.  "What?  Bow?  Like in a play or somethin'?  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously though they never broke eye contact with the ... thing.  Then, suspiciously, she added: "And ... I don't gotta curtsey, right? Cause, I don't do that frilly stuff.  It's just gonna have to get over it." 

Naomi would rather get punched by a first year than risk an angry Hippogriff, but the little spitfire actually stopped and listened to her warnings. Admirable.

 "If 'dat's how you wanna do it,"  she answered with a blase and uncaring roll, looking from the kid to the dark beast, catching its little fidgets; She didn't hardly know the kid, but she wasn't about to be responsible for whatever might happen to her. Animal cues, the curly haired witch hated trying to read them, especially with the smarter creatures.

At the mention of 'frilly' and curtseying, Naomi's  lips puckered and twisted with the rest of her expression, "'Den don't," she had never done it, but she had never been that formal unless she was being a bittersweet brat,  "Jus' get him to bow back."

The older student's gaze fell on the Hippogriff's again, and in a hurried mumble from the corning of her mouth she lilted, "if he don't, snatch your broom."

"Get him to-"  Mairead started to repeat, slightly bewildered, as she glanced back to the ... thing.  Get it to bow?  Judging by the looks of the creature, Mairead knew she probably couldn't force it to take a step forward if it really didn't want to move.  So, how on earth was she supposed to make it bow?

Oh.  Was that why she was supposed to bow herself?

Mairead cast one more glance towards the girl, half expecting to find her laughing or showing some other indication the girl was pulling her leg.  But, the girl was completely dead pan.  Nervous, even.  And, the creature seemed just as agitated as it had been a moment ago. 

So, she bowed.  Taking care to maintain eye contact with it.  For a tense moment, the creature seemed to stiffen.  Mairead was certain the thing was going to take advantage of the situation and grab at her exposed neck but, finally, it folded one front leg and lowered its head in an unmistakable vow. 

"Wicked," Mairead muttered as she straightened back up.  "That's ... that's insane.  What the hell is it?"

"He 'sa hippogriff," Naomi replied as she saw dark creature seemed much more jovial now to have a crowd, one who was amazed by him. It couldn't be happier.

"They 'ave better manners 'dan most witches and wizards," Naomi lowered her gaze down onto the first year, keeping her shoulders back and relaxed as she casually admitted, "Less tolerant though..." she cooly shrugged her shoulder to her chin, "Probably for th' best." Of course she would approve of any violent traits she happened to share with someone, even if they weren't human.

She turned and reached up her dark hand to the creature's beak and it lowered its head in response, finally allowing her to stroke its inky-black feathers, "Where'd you grow up to never see one?" The curly-haired witch remained facing the hippogriff as her gaze slid back towards the first year, who had already gotten in her good graces for actually listening and heeding her warnings, although she hid it any immediate signs of approval.

"A what?"  Mairead glanced from the creature to the girl and back, her nose wrinkled in confusion.  "Why do they call it that?  Don't look nothing like a hippo."  The creature was slim as anything.  And, from what she could tell, it didn't look like it could swim worth anything. 

Mairead wasn't going to contest the manners bit.  Many of the witches and wizards she'd met had little in the way of manners.  Some were outright cruel.  She was content to be distracted by the creature - the hippogriff.  It was actually quite noble looking when one got over the initial shock of seeing two animals glued together like some mutilated toy.  "Can I touch it?"  It seemed receptive of the older girl touching it but Mairead had met enough dogs who were vicious to anyone but their owner. 

At first, Mairead shrugged off the questions of where she was from dismissively.  It wasn't a straightforward answer.  And, Mairead was well aware many witches and wizards weren't fond of her kind.  She'd learned that her first week here.  "Nowhere in particular," she offered.  It was the truth, after all.  "Ireland.  We moved around a lot.  But, I'm a mudblood.  Me family's got horses but we never seen nothing like this."

"Yeah, once he bows, he's your brother," Still with an attitude problem but less likely to kill you. Naomi massaged the creature lower neck so it bowed it's head lower, "I already did it 'fore you came."

"Good question..." "Th' griff is probably cus it's like a Griffin. Cousin maybe?" she hadn't ever thought about that sort of breeding, or really looked it up. It seemed like more of a European thing to her. "You breed it you name it, dunno 'bout the hippo part," she stopped petting to take a step up on the fence, trying to match the creature's height, "I'm more familiar wit' scaley and water-dwelling t'ings."

But once the kid went onto explain her being a mudblood Naomi's lips parted thougtfully, "Muggleborn?" Being in Slytherin house made the word mudblood sound about as murky as it's meaning. She'd heard the word whispered maliciously so much in the Slytherin house she was pretty sure anyone who was halfblood or less could could wear the name.

""Nevur heard of a half-blood family being in Ireland, I live on a lake there," she sat back down on the fence swept her legs back over the fence, while nodding to the inky-black hippogriff, "We don't have one either, but 'dey're pretty common--'side from apparating, broom, and floo--you can fly on a hippogriff or a winged horse," And with a glance over the paddock the Slytherin hopped down into the paddock.

Mairead didn't need reassurance twice.  She hopped down from the fence and walked purposefully up to the hippogriff, reaching up as high as she could to run a hand over the creature's neck.  "Cool," she breathed, quietly, in obvious awe of the creature.  "Do they, ye know, remember people?  Are ye brothers forever?"  Or, just for that moment? 

The Gryffindor grinned slightly, quite able to relate to the affection towards scaley creatures.  She wasn't about to elaborate, though.  She'd promised not to mention anything about Macha - or any of the other serpentine friends in Siberia.  So, for once, she kept uncharacteristically quiet. 

"Aye.  Whatever."  Mairead shrugged off the correction, her attention still primarily on the inky black feathers.  "Them all were calling me a mudblood before I ever knew what a muggleborn was.  If they can use it, don't know why I can't."  Sure, it was usually flung around like the mud it was derived from but Mairead was no stranger to hateful slurs.  Tinker, knacker - even worse - she'd heard them all.  But, she'd also frequently heard her fellow Travellers use these terms themselves. 

"Well, all me family's muggle," Mairead explained.  "And, ye know, we don't really interact much with Stones.  There's really only a couple of us who can do magic."  Mairead finally looked away from the hippogriff.  "Yer from Ireland?  Where?  I been all over - know most of it." 

Naomi hummed in affirmation, "They'll remember you fer life--," she pursed her lips as her voice dragged on, "not exactly a good t'ing without a bow." The taller witch wasn't as awestruck as the munchkin was, but Naomi didn't approach every single hippogriff she saw so she was swelling with pride at at befriending the black creature, only letting it show in her casual conduct with the creature.

"And everyb'addy likes to skew words," her virid eyes swung to the sides and rolled back onto the first year, "'whatever suits deir needs--" Naomi wasn't necessarily innocent of it, "I jus' stick by what I know or," Naomi turned towards the inky black hippogriff and petted its side, as her voice gave a quick swig as she skipped on, "casting." She wasn't really sure how curious the munchkin would act if she had elaborated with another word like, 'cursed,' so did her best to avoid it, but the hippogriff seemed to understand, nudging a bulk of a feathery head onto her shoulder.

The Slytherin gathered rolled back on a foot before gathering her footing again, nonchalantly focusing on the first year, "I live in Lough Courrib--one of th' islands," she nodded and reached up to pet the creature's head again, as if it hadn't just nudged her, "'round where 'wolves' are gettin' some animals, 'dat's our croc."

Mairead nodded, a slight grin playing on her lips, pleased by this bit of news.  Whatever way one sliced it, this creature was cool and being on its good side could only be good.  She'd definitely remember this bowing business if she ever came across one of these things again. 

Mairead didn't know what to say about the whole idea of people skewing words and such.  She hadn't really ever given it much thought beyond the few incidents she'd run into.  Ewfie and that awful woman had called her a mudblood that day in the wand shop and Mairead had slugged Ewfie in the face.  Everytime Mairead used "mudblood," she always got the most delightfully indignant responses from the likes of Rene and the other rich, upper class kids.  That was about as much thought as Mairead had put into it; she just wasn't one to sit and ponder philosophical concepts.  Already, the current conversation surrounding it was growing boring. 

"County Galway!"  Mairead confirmed, glancing up at the girl.  Now here was a topic she knew something about.  "Yeah, I know where that is.  Never been on the islands, though.  We'd camp by Dunure castle near Carrick Shore all the time.  It's me mum's favorite spot in the Spring.  It's pretty." 

Naomi gave a quick nod at the name of the castle, "We nevur try and get so close to muggles," "less we got some reason too," she shrugged. There were a few, some that arose out of need and others that were much more juvenile.

"S'times they sit 'round good fishing holes, and we're fishin' on Snickers, our croc, wit' a disillusionment charm," she paused, realizing the girl was a first year, "know that one yeah? My brothers never figure out how to stop laughing when we ran 'long side muggles' boats and they lost a catch." It was always interesting how cunning animals could be once they caught onto habits or routines, "bit of luck 'dat is," his eyebrows popped up on her head as a smile lightly spread across her lips.

The Slytherin then turned to pay a bit more attention to the hippogriff who was fidgeting and wanting attention, "But we usually mess around Castle Kirke--Hidin' stuff, forgettin' about it, finding it again--dunno what all we stuffed in there anymore." It was strange to stop and actually think about what all she did with her brothers, growing up. It didn't seem to make sense anymore, but it made less sense, to her if they hadn't done it at all, "Ypu ever stay 'dere long 'nough to do anything?"

Mairead had been so oblivious to the wizarding world before that wizard had arrived in their camp to deliver her letter that it was sometimes easy to forget that magic had existed before then.  She'd never seen it nor given it much thought prior to that day.  It was odd to think there could have been witches or wizards around her back then - some of them even practicing magic.  Some of whom she might have even spoken to!

"To do anything?" repeated, looking at the girl.  She wasn't sure what the Slytherin meant.  "Of course, we'd done stuff," she said, though she doubted she was actually answering the question the Slytherin had intended to ask.  "We'd camp there.  See stuff to the tourists.  We weren't usually there for more than a week or so, though.  With all the tourists, they usually didn't like us hanging out long.  They thought we'd try to rob them or something.  Or, do ye mean do magic stuff?" 

Naomi nodded and hummed with the young girl's story, until she asked about magic, "Oh-wha' why not--" then the witch's mouth stalled, as she gave an understanding not. Right. Muggleborn, "Well I guess you can go on an' do it now," she pursed her lips forward, innocently shrugging her shoulders in the same direction.

"Don wave yer wand 'round muggles though, 'dey keep an eye on us, fer 'dat, here in th' U.K." Naomi cast aside a crooked glare and gave disapproving  tilt of her hips, "Don' care so much when you're nowhere," she crossed her forearms on the wooden beam of the fence and leaned her weight on it, "Hardly notice wit' us wizards, less you're a genius an' t'rowin an Imperius about." Naomi hopped back over the fence and wound her fingers around the hilt of her brother's broom, which the third year would have to take off on soon if she were to survive an encounter with her brother.