Her mode of dress stood out to some degree but such things were harder to recognize in present company.  With the given array of handmade, second hand and mismatched fabric, one witch's attempt to appear muggle wasn't nearly as obvious as it would have been along the streets of London.  But, to a wizard, the indicators were there to recognize and the recognition reflected with the flickering firelight in his eyes. 

Evening had finally settled.  Deaglan McDonough had caught up with the ó Fearghails and they're group and had taken to traveling with them for a few days.  Deaglan gave Xiomara a broad grin and dipped both his head and the fiddle perched on his chest slowly in greeting.  After another verse[1], Siobhan ó Fearghail's voice faded in a final gentle note and Deaglan's fiddle and Diarmuid's mandola closed out the tune. 

"Xiomara!  It's a pleasant surprise." Deaglan offered, gesturing towards the chair Tito had abandoned when he'd been sent off to do dishes.  "At least, I hope the visit is intended to be a pleasant surprise and not the baring of bad news."  Deaglan was well aware Xiomara still taught at Hogwarts.  She was, alas, the only staff member young Mairead referred to by name.  Last he heard, apart from the original letter, no one from school had visited the family.  So, introductions wouldn't be superfluous. 

"Let me introduce Diarmuid and Clar ó Fearghail, Mairead's parents," Deaglan offered, gesturing to the two other musicians.  "Siobhan and Sean Quinn - they're her godparents.  And, Oisin Murphy," he offered, extending a hand to an older gentleman across the fire from him.  "And, the wee one in his lap is his grandson, Glenn.  There are four other boys somewhere about but goodness only knows what they're up to."

1.

The song

Deaglan McDonough was a hard wizard to find.  He always had been.  Unpredictable, mysterious, playful.  Even when they were kids all those many decades ago.  He was the only Traveler to come to Hogwarts that Xiomara ever heard of, and that differentness had drawn her to him.  He was a curiosity.  His life was different than anybody elses.  But the world turns and epochs fold into the next and time separated them.  She'd heard that Deag had become a wandmaker, a fitting rumor.  And in those many years Hooch had become one of the best broomriders of hers and many other generations.  But now they had something in common again.

"Good to meet you,"  she said, allowing Deaglan to administrate the pleasantries.  She'd flown in by broom, naturally, but landed somewhat down the road, taking common precautions when entering a muggle community, even a temporary one.  She'd walked up to the camp dressed in her only real muggle clothing.  A jacket from the 1960s, and old adidas trainers. 

Deaglan's eyes were glinting even under the years and wrinkles, he was still the same old Deag.  Hooch narrowed her own small, yellow-brown eyes into a smile and sat down with the family.

"Madam Hooch," she introduced herself.  Since Deaglan had already supplied her rarely-used given name, she found that using her professional name might help segue into why she was here.  "Mairead is my best student.  But I am afraid the news is bad - I don't know that Mairead is doing well at all.  She's a lovely creature," she said with all the warmth of a witch who'd coached hundreds and hundreds of students not only through their most exciting ups and downs of broom-riding, but who'd watched all those eleven-year-olds adjust to life away from home in a magical castle.

"Lovely, but she's not adjusting.  Hope you could help, Deag."

There was the general, polite murmuring of curious greetings from those settled around the fire.  Sean Quinn pushed himself up out of his folding chair and wandered off in search of Tito to set the young man to fixing a fresh cup of tea.  A basket of left over dinner rolls was passed from hand to hand, eventually finding its way to Madame Hooch. 

No one around the fire appeared particularly surprised by the reasons for Madame Hooch's visit.  Siobhan Quinn offered a resigning sigh and opened her mouth to speak when a dark-haired boy of about thirteen years, arrived with the requested cup of tea for the visitor. 

"It's cuz ye shouldn't have sent her off to that place in the first place!" he barked at his mother, handing over the cup of tea with barely any acknowledgement of Madame Hooch.  "She doesn't need to go to some stupid school just because-"  A warning glance from both Oisin and Tito's mother silenced the young man and he sat on the ground, eying Madame Hooch with unveiled suspicion. 

Deaglan offered Xiomara and apologetic grin as Clar ó Fearghail got to her feet and moved around the fire to sit closer to the two of them and, thereby, placing herself between their guest and Tito. 

"I'd be glad to help anyway I can," Deaglan offered Xiomara though it was clear some of the statement was also directed at Mairead's mother.  "She stayed with me over the winter holidays and I gathered she was going through some culture shock but I was suspicious she wasn't being quite forthcoming about the details.  I do know she speaks highly of you, though.  I gathered she's still having some trouble with classes, though."

Hooch took a roll and then the tea, but her jaw tightened when the young man protested Mairead's even being at Hogwarts in the first place.  It was just that kind of attitude that made these folk to difficult to deal with sometimes.  Not only muggles with the typical apprehension, but travelers who seemed to prefer being on the outside of things.  A castle that's stood in the same place for ages and was the central institution of their ancient culture didn't fit in their picture at all. 

But it was the best thing for Mairead.  She needed to learn to use her magic or spend the rest of her life confused and unpredictable.  Not that her condition now was any different...

But Hooch did see some genuine concern in the boy's eyes, and Mairead's mother seemed amenable. 

"Your daughter's very sharp," Hooch was careful to qualify, after Deaglan commented on Mai's trouble with classes.  "Very keen on learning, but it's the structure I think that's wearing her down.  She's expected to be in certain places and relate to her peers and professors in certain ways."

"The professors talk.  We're worried she won't come back next fall."  She looked from Deag, to Mairead's mother, then to the young man who'd spoken out.  She knew that their support would be requisite to this turning out well for young Mai.

"She's always been a curious one," Clar ó Fearghail admitted when their guest spoke of her daughter.  "It has gotten her in trouble before.  Though, most of the time she's had encouragement in that."  Spoken tersely, Clar glanced pointedly over her shoulder at Tito before returning her attention to Hooch. 

But, Tito's attention was still so focused on their visitor that he missed the not-so-subtle hint.  Before either of the adults could respond to Hooch's concerns, Tito was on his feet and moving out from behind Clar.  "Good!  She shouldn't go back.  She don't belong there!"  He glared at Clar, his arms crossed over his chest.  He quickly grew quiet, though, as his own mother got to her feet and beckoned her son towards her.  Moodily, he plopped back down on the ground - a clear refusal to be removed from the conversation but the offer of a compromise. 

Another patient and apologetic smile spread across Deaglan's face.  "Aye.  In some ways, I think both you professors and she are worrying about the same thing.  Though, she wouldn't admit as much.  She did ask in passing over the Christmas break whether anyone her age has ever been kicked out.  But, she is having a hard time adjusting.  And, I have no doubts she's scared though, again, she'd not likely admit it." 

His face wrinkled in another apologetic grimace, though this time it was directed more at the others gathered around the fire.  "We're taught at a young age to be distrustful of outsiders.  Some of that distrust comes from within our own but more often than not it's reinforced by our experiences with outsiders.  That distrust tends to foster a stigma against those who abandon the traditional ways and associate with those outsiders.  Imagine, if you will, the reaction to a pureblood leaving the wizarding world and becoming a muggle banker.  It's quite terrifying to suddenly find yourself surrounded by those whom you once saw as the outsiders.  And to know and be told from the beginning that you don't measure up."

Tito's outburst confirmed some of Xiomara's pre-existing suspicions that Mairead's Traveler family was at the very least in conflict with her being at Hogwarts, if not outright against it.  Deaglan was the only other Pavee that Xiomara could remember who'd attended.  Perhaps there were some that came and left, but she couldn't remember another in any of her flying cohort groups.  (And she liked to think she remembered all her students.)

She hunched over to rest her chin in her hand, her elbow propped up on her crossed knee.  Her thin grey brows had crept towards each other, pointing upwards in concern.

Hooch heard each of Deaglan's words clearly, appreciating his point of view - a point of view on the inside of the self-imposed outsiders.  She couldn't tell whose benefit his speech was more for.  She'd always liked Deaglan for that.  Both his age and impetuousness gave him authority to speak like he did.  Tell it as it was.

"Her classmates aren't quite sure what to do with her, and she's seemed to have befriended students that bring out the worst in her," Xiomara went on, not at all shy about giving the o Fearghail's the whole picture - certainly Mairead wouldn't, Hooch assumed.  "She's getting into trouble with those boys and antagonizing some of the others.  I have her in Broomstick Flying and she does well for me.  I have no doubt at all that she's welcome to stay at Hogwarts - she won't be expelled - but things will just keep getting more difficult.  There is quite a bit of give for First Years; we know they're adjusting.  But in their second and third year we expect more.  Does this all sound too terribly different from her behavior here, at ...home?" 

Hooch hoped the answer was yes, and that Mairead's disruptive behavior was uncharacteristic, a result of the stress of the environment.  That would give Hooch more hope that there was a way to smooth things.

"Aye," Deaglan agreed, nodding his head.  "My classmates didn't quite know what to do with me, either.  As you may remember.  It probably wasn't until my third year that the castle really felt like a home away from home.  But, I was an only child - and my mother and father chose to travel on their own rather than with a group.  I was alright being alone until I settled in.  From what she's told me, I don't think Mairead's every really been alone before."

Deaglan's eyes shifted over towards Clar.  The reluctance to share their world with outsiders was deep set and Clar seemed content, for the time being, to let Deaglan speak for them.  But, there was only so much explanation Deaglan could provide.  "I actually didn't know Mairead until last summer," Deaglan offered, regretfully, as he turned back to Xiomara.  "Our paths hadn't crossed until she came to me to get a wand for young Mairead.  She'd, unfortunately, been kicked out of Ollivander's twice and they banned her from the shop."  This explanation in itself was, unfortunately, probably answering some of Xiomara's questions. 

"That was hardly her fault, though," This, however, seemed to convince Clar to speak up and she did so, quickly, in her daughter's defense.  "Mairead's always been the only girl.  It's been her and-"  Clar nodded her chin in Tito's direction, "five boys.  She's never gotten along with other girls - even when we stopped over in Dublin or at the fair.  And, Tito's always been protective of her.  The other girls were pretty mean to her.  I'm not surprised she's leaning to a similar sort." 

So little Mairead's problems were more than just maladjustment to a strange place.  Seemed she had always felt out of place in some sense and that her unruly behavior was her hardening to the harshness around her.  As Xiomara shifted on her seat, she realized this narrative could have easily been hers.   As a young witch growing up in the 1920s she was considered overly 'active' and clearly disinclined to marriage.  She was ever against the grain, and while never fully accepted by other witches, her affinity for more masculine activities found her few willing brothers in arms.  She tilted her head in understanding.  She knew Mairead may have a hard road ahead.

"Perhaps," she said, a new thought forming, "we at Hogarts have been expecting too much of Mairead.  The straight path isn't always the best one, just the one most folk use.  Perhaps if we work to let Mairead be Mairead, she'd stop fighting us at every turn.  Give us all a little headache relief."

She posed the question to the family, referring to everyone's aching brains.  Not just the professors, but Mairead's and the family's too.

"Aye," Deaglan offered in agreement.  Avoiding a straight path and not forcing the young lass into a mold both seemed like good approaches with the girl.  Clar ó Fearghail seemed to follow Deaglan's lead on that and offered her own slight nod in confirmation. 

"I'm sure you remember what it was like," Deaglan offered, granting Xiomara an amicable grin.  "You, yourself, didn't follow the standard path for most girls.  Especially in our time.  From what she's told me, her first run in with the pureblood society was an unfortunate introduction to our world.  Mudblood was among the gentler names they addressed her by.  'Muzzling,' 'inhuman,' and filth of the wizarding and muggle worlds were also used - by both a classmate and an adult." 

"Time has faded my memory on the details but from what I do remember, I trust you're at least somewhat familiar with the feeling of having to fight harder to prove your worth as the person you are when everyone expects you to be someone different or something less.  It seems, the harder we push to force some people into a particular box, the harder they fight us to get back out."