There was an old man going up a steep hill. It was windy that day, and cloudy, however, the old man did not seem to have any objection, he seemed almost as if he went there for a peaceful calming stroll. His long simple robe was streaming in the wind, as well as his long hair and beard, silver as the moon. The wind grew even stronger, but the man didn't cease walking.
As he went, a grassland appeared before him. It wasn't still the top of the hill, yet he knew he was already in the mountains.

"…They are to be found in the highlands, far from the common settlement of either muggles or wizards. Skillfull as they are, the tribes possess the powers over the nature in all its width and depth; they are the rulers of the fairies, the pacifiers of the wild spirits, the kings and queens of magic so far unknown to witches and wizards. What do you say, Minerva?"
The elderly witch seemed worried: "Sounds as if you were planning to chase Jupiter himself in the dark caves of England!"
"And you, Severus?"
"Headmaster, although I have no doubts about your brilliant genius and your truly remarkable abilities, wouldn't it be wiser to focus on some more... Real aims?"
"It definitely would," Dumbledore nodded and walked through his office to a glass showcase. "But I can't help to be worried. Last year the incident with Quirrell, the diary of Tom Riddle this year…" He picked up a very damaged notebook from the vitrine and held it in his hands, as if he were musing on the seriousness of the current events. "Strange things keep occurring since Harry Potter entered the schoolyards and my intuition tells me the more terrible things are yet to come. Obviously, the security of the school is not enough."
"If I may interfere, Headmaster, this is not the problem of security." Said Snape, prolonging every syllable of his sentence. "Potter is like a sack of fleas, one giant magnet for problems." He bitterly spat out the end of the sentence.
"What do you want to do, Albus?" Minerva spoke softly.
"I hope to see the true core of the legend." Said the old man resolutely, ignoring Snape who seemed as coldly annoyed as ever. "I sincerely hope to observe their powers, if I find them, and I try to figure out how to incorporate them into the campus' security. Some extra magic would always come handy, wouldn't it?" He smirked, put on his cloak and vanished.
"This is not the main point," growled Severus, "the best solution would be indeed not to employ a werewolf and to confiscate Potter's wand for good."

"What is it what we have here!" There was a shout and a rustle of leaves. Albus Dumbledore realised he's been lost in his own thoughts, as it happens when there is much to think of and you are old.
In front of him, there was a wild-looking redhead woman glowering at him with a long knife in her hands, its edge pointing directly at him.
"Speak yerself, old man, or 'twill be yer blood covering this knife at once!" She cried. He was watching her in amazement, astonished. They truly existed! He didn't actually think of what would he tell them, he was expecting to find rather a piece of evidence which would suggest how the spiritual tribe performed their magic long ago, he expected the tribe to be gone… He could examine the precious artifact in his study and improve the security of the castle this way. He wasn't prepared. He didn't know what to say.
The redhead woman threateningly stepped forward and raised her hand with the dagger.
"Eiméar! Stop it, ye silly fool!" A shriek came out and with the blow of the wind, another woman appeared, grabbing the hand of the attacker and making her immobile; she was also red-haired and dressed up in similar style as the first one, a simple emerald dress with many pendants hanging upon her neck and wrists. Both of them were barefoot. However, the second woman looked far less bloodthirsty than the first.
"'Tis none of your business, Shin!" Shrieked Eiméar and swung at Shin with the other daggerless hand. Shin grabbed Eiméar's other hand, so now the to savage-looking women were wrestling together. Dumbledore watched, still amazed. He smiled a little. Now he would be about to witness the true character of the people.
"Let me go!"
"I tell father... What ye did–!"
"You grass– How dare ye command me!"
That was obviously enough for Shin. She punched Eiméar into her stomach with her fist and withdrew the arm sharply back, as if she was pulling an invisible cord. The wind gusted harshly, thrusting Eiméar to a giant trunk of a tree. Shin clenched her fist and the tree trunk wiggled. It split into thinner parts which blocked Eiméar's fists so she was unable to move.
"Ye shall not... ever... forget who is the eldest daughter of the tribe!" Growled Shin and slowly turned away, "our dear friend shall be so kind and hold you till your spirit comes down."
Your spirit comes down? Wondered Dumbledore who was slowly getting up on his feet, the blow was so harsh that it struck him too and made him to fall on the ground.
"Ye mustn't think of us badly, old man," the woman was speaking to him now. Her voice consumed him. It was so warm, like an Indian Summer sun. Like a fire in the night. Like an open arms of a chubby housewife. So warm and welcoming. "My sister sometimes loses her spirit and is very inhospitable. What can I do for ye?"
"Thank you for your kind words, madam," he said, thinking about what to say next, his face wearing a soft smile, "my name is Albus Dumbledore."
"Nice to meet you, Albus Dumbledore, I am Sinéad, the daughter of Aengus, the son of Páidin himself." She replied and bowed slightly, expressing her respect and courtesy.
"I came here to meet your people, Sinéad," Dumbledore his sky-blue eyes upon her green ones. He felt secure again. They began walking towards a small settlement of tents, which appeared a little bit dingy. A smoke was coming out from a fire and loud human voices were coming towards their direction.
"A very strange intention indeed!" She cried and stopped, turning towards him her full attention and her eyes flashing in mistrust. "What faith do you mean?"
She probably asks me what do I mean by that, he thought. He knew he would have to be careful with those savages, but for some inexplicable reason to him he knew he has to put all his eggs into his basket.
"You see, Sinéad, there are many kinds of people in this world." He began slowly. "There are you, and also the other people. (Muggles, he meant.) Have you met the other people?"
Her eyebrows crinkled: "You mean the Pork-heads?"
His eyebrows raised: "The Pork-heads?"
"We know that they live in better and more fertile places of the world," she spoke slowly and watched him carefully, "they breed animals for their own pleasure, they kill them. They eat meat four times a day. They are using one another for bad things and are never kind to themselves. The Pork-heads."
The Pork-heads, he smirked in amusement, what a funny name...
"Yes, there are you, the Pork-heads, but at the outside world of the Pork-heads, there is the secret world of ours. We do magic, as you did a while ago." He smiled at her, encouragingly. She did not seem surprised.
"I've visited the world of the Pork-heads several times, when my father didn't know. He would never let me. But I know them, and I know what they do. And I've always considered it bad what they did. When they see us, they call us names. They call us dirty and beggars. They say we are animals. We say they are worse than that. What do they say about ye?"
"They don't know about us," Dumbledore smiled and pulled out his wand. "We use wands to do our magic." He waved his wand and a bouquet of flowers appeared in the woman's hands. She suddenly started wailing and crying.
"Ye killed them! They were such a wonderful living mates, and ye killed them!"
Ouch. He forgot these people were living in such a sync with nature that something as simple as conjuring a bouquet would cause trouble. He tried to save the situation. He let the flowers disappear.
"They were not real flowers. They were... Created. Out of nothing. No harm was done to any living creature. Don't worry."
She calmed down and he continued.
"We live separated from the ordinary people and we live in our own world of magic. What isn't there may happen, nothing is impossible. What you say about that?"
"'Tis impressive if it's true," she nodded in acknowledgement when walking, "why ye came hence then?"
"I want to know how different is your world from ours. What can we learn from you. How can we be better and how to face the evil in the world."
"An honorable thought indeed, old man," she wondered and smiled dreamily, "why won't ye stay for supper with us?"
"I would be delighted to," Albus Dumbledore smiled and gently touched his chest where his heart was.
"Just agree with anything I say, old man," she declared when the settlement was only a stone's throw away, "they trust me in everything. I am the chief warrior's daughter, you see. But there is one thing you must understand." She turned towards him. "Our people do not usually like the other people. They are barbarians and cruel creatures. We keep aside in the mountains where no one can have any objections. My father forbade me and my sisters and brothers to ever go there, but indeed we went! There is one thing ye must never do with yer children, ye know" she said, "if ye don't want them to do something, ye must never forbid them to do it, because children are anything but obedient. Never trust children, they are wicked little bantams."
Dumbledore laughed and the silhouettes completed walking in the dark-growing sky.

"How was your mountain holiday then?" Asked Snape bitterly and he didn't even try to hide the sarcasm in his voice. "I see you probably enjoyed yourself so much that you even forgot to mention we would be expecting the werewolf quite soon!"
"Severus, I share your joy of meeting an old friend of yours, however, there is something I would like to discuss in the evening at the Great Hall, if you would so kindly join us." Dumbledore smiled calmly as he took off his travel cloak. On that account, the tall Potions Master turned swiftly around and with his black frock streaming behind, he left the headmaster's office. He was pacing quickly and was glowering to every direction as usual. He passed through some dark corridors of the castle and was just about to turn the corner, when–
A reflection of red hair went across the corridor in front of him.
He gazed, stunned. No.
He made some quick steps in that direction. However, as soon as he did so, the light steps in front of him quickened as well. It wasn't possible. True, he was thinking about her too much lately, but the dead can never come to life. Or can they? Was Dumbledore right? Is there really any other form of magic than theirs?
. . .or – is he mad?
"Stop right now!" He shouted and began to run. It couldn't be any student for it was the time of summer holidays, and no member of staff had long ginger hair... He wished to see her so much again he might actually start imagining things? It has been twelve years... Was he delirious? What if all those years of suffering had an actual impact on his conscience? Was he seeing fallacies?
The green garment just turned another corner. He jumped quickly and grabbed her hand.
"Lily!" He shouted, his face full of pain and agony.
He was staring into wide opened green eyes.
"Nay!" She gasped and pulled her hand like a wild game, them she saw his expression she paused and her manners got softer. "Ah'm not Lily."
Her voice was deep and soft. There was the warmth of the fire in it and it reminded Severus of roasted chestnuts. When he caught himself staring he quickly pulled out his wand and pointed at her.
"Who are you then?" He said coldly, "speak yourself!"
"Ah'm sorry dear, but am not Lily." Her voice was warm, calm, and full of concern, "I might turn into a lily, if you want, but strangely enough am not indeed. What makes you think so?"
He lowered his wand and stared at her without any shame. A decent woman, tall and slim, with cascades of red curly hair, sparkling green eyes, pale skin, rosy cheeks, pink lips, some freckles and long robe of greenstone-coloured soft cotton. She had a strange accent, as if coming from Scotland.
"What is all the fuss about?" Minerva McGonagall came hurrying, an expression of worry on her face.
"'Tis very strange how ye treat a stranger, it is!" She smiled, however, noticing that Snape was still deep in his amazement and unable to utter a world, she touched his arm and said: "What is it, good man? Ye were chasing a noble maiden like a hare, did ye loose yer manners? One piece of good advice I give ye since I know ye meant good faith: should ye treat yer folk as yer enemies, take'm on as soon as ye get'em, or they will rumour ye with such dignity as a barking dog. I bid ye farewell."
She turned around and went away.
Snape stood as still as a stone, his wand still in his hand, not knowing what to do.
"A remarkable young lady!" Minerva chuckled, smiling. Snape interrupted her.
"Who is she? What is this about?"
"Oh, Severus, maybe if you weren't dropping bitter remarks about Remus Lupin coming, Albus would have told you. He encountered a tribe of warrior-like indigenous people as he planned."
"He took one with him?!" He spat in outrage. "What is this castle, a circus? I thought one savage creature would be enough for the following year at least!"
"The Celtic woman was right," Minerva uttered wryly as she watched Snape rushing away in his cloud of hatred, "he truly resembles a barking dog."

Dumbledore felt great in the company of the warrior tribe. These people were as free as birds, respectful of their own rules only. No one felt frightened, everybody was smiling and laughing. The supper, to his amazement, was a bowl of vegetables and herbs which were boiling in a large cauldron and carefully watched by the older women of the tribe. Alcohol was largely distributed amongst them, to which the men helped themselves without any hesitation. In fact, the men looked even wilder than the women. They grew beards and long hair, the same as Dumbledore (he chuckled when he realised that), but theirs were unkept and ruffled. The supper was already eaten and now the men were drinking and laughing. Dumbledore felt this was the right time for him.
"Warrior Aengus, I thank you for letting me join your people," he began carefully. Sinéad's eyes were fixed firmly upon him.
"Ó, no worries, noble greybeard!" Cried the chief and bent closer to Dumbledore. "A'must apologise for me middle daughter's behavi'er!" He shouted, giving a rough and cordial punch to Eiméar's back, because she was sitting next to him. Her eyes narrowed in anger and she gasped for her breath, she was winded. Aengus brayed.
"'Em pretty daughters of me!" He cried. "Anywhere in the land ye wouldn't find a fairer maidens than'em! And such skills they possess, ay, they do!" He staggered a little, apparently, the liquor had its effect.
"Sinéad!" He shouted, his glance meeting with his eldest daughter's eyes, alluringly narrowed in amusement of his father's raised spirits, the chieftain turned back to Dumbledore. "Ye wouldn't find a finer magus in the world! Indeed, she learned all our arts, and she added her own! When we want to talk to spirits or prevent ourselves from harm, she always gives us a h-hand... A good woman, good, about to be wed soon…" When he said that, Sinéad sadly dropped her eyes. Her father did not notice, however, Dumbledore understood very well.
"Don't look at yer father in aengar, me dear!" The huge statue of a warrior shouted again at Eiméar, "for he knows yer the finest warrior in the neighbourhood!" She smirked and grinned at Sinéad. "Yer father knows yer the one who will lead the tribe when the ghosts call him to their world…"
"That is fascinating!" Dumbledore smiled. "What is the chieftain succession line in this tribe?"
"Ther'aint any!" Cried Aengus and handed Dumbledore another chalice of alcohol with his shaky hand, already under the influence. "But traditionally a member of the family of the chief that was, they have to fight all those who would like to become a chief also. But my Eiméar will beat all the mighty warriors, whoever they might be! Ain't yer, darling? Ain't yer?!"
"How about your third daughter?" Dumbledore asked.
"'Tis a good question, my humble friend! Méav, come thither!" A thin silhouette came into the light of the fire from behind the chieftain. She too had red shock of curly hair, but her face bore an expression of great suffering, as if in pain. She looked down at her bare feet, her cheeks were blushing pink and she refused to speak.
"Wicked child!" Cried the father, "speak to the noble druid who joined our company tonight!"
She shook her head and hot tears of shame were running down her cheeks.
"Father!" Shouted Sinéad, getting up on her feet and hugging her youngest sister around her shoulders, "don't yer see yer cruel to the child? I beseech ye to stop yer scold!"
"Well, ye say Sinéad!" Cried Eiméar in anger, "ye better lead her gone! 'Tis a shame to be her sister, 'tis! Go!" She shouted, "hide her under yer skirt, and ye two can be fooling around all day when me and our brothers keep yer thóins safe and when the good women of our tribe pick food for ye!" Méav started wailing and had to be led away. Dumbledore raised to his feet also, he should better follow the two women that he was sure wouldn't harm him. Although they were good people indeed, he didn't feel very safe near the drunken chieftain and his wild daughter. He followed them to the forest.
"There there, hush, Méav..." Sinéad's comforting soft voice wiped the tears from the girl's face. Méav tightly grasped her sister's dress and began to sob.
"What's wrong with your sister, good woman?" The Headmaster of Hogwarts asked.
"We don't know. She's always been like that. I asked the spirits and they say it weren't them what is upon her. She is a little bit sensitive I think. Not really suitable to keep company rough warriors such as Eiméar or our father." There was a noise of breaking the pottery coming from the fire in the distance.
"I guess it's father's liquor joy again, combined with the enthusiasm of Eiméar. I better check on them before there is a tragic killing taking place in our family. Please look after her, Albus." Sinéad disappeared in the darkness. Dumbledore felt as if someone asked him to babysit an infant. He had no children himself and had no idea what he should do with an overreactive teenage daughter. He carefully placed his warm hand on her shoulder and thought hard what to do next.
"'Tis not I do-n'want to speak ter ye!" Wailed the youngest daughter, in her teens she could be, "me father'n'sisters are such better people than I am! They know how to fight and how to lead us and they tell me I don't know what they do, and indeed I don't, I've been but a burden to them all!" She squeaked. Dumbledore smiled softly. Apparently, children of wild warriors had the very same problems as many students at Hogwarts, and THAT was, after all, an area he knew well… He imagine his office, in which he would be talking to a first year little girl who is alone from her family for the first time and feels like the most pointless thing in the whole castle. He pulled out his wand.
"Méav, do you know why I am here?" She shook her head and wiped her nose, staring at the wand in his hand. Dumbledore bent a little to meet her sad blue eyes.
"My people are the same as your people are," he began slowly, "we also use magic, however, differently than you do. We use it to make our daily lives better. Our world is hidden from the ordinary people. We select children who have abilities to perform magic and we teach them in a school. Have you been to a school?" She shook her head again, now she was not sobbing and she was listening to him with interest.
"There is a boy," he continued, "whose parents were killed by an evil man who studied magic in the school as well. The boy managed to make the evil man weak because his mother sacrificed for him and today, the boy is celebrated as a hero. But we still have to protect him, because we– I– think that he would have to face the evil man again in the future. And I am here to find help how to protect him until he learns what is necessary to learn. You understand?"
She nodded and peeped: "Teek me sister then. Not Eiméar, Sinéad. If ye need magic and protection, that is what she does all the time for me– for us."
He stared in wonder. He never planned to do something like that. But he realised it would be wonderful! He could observe her skill and the castle would be much safer at the same time. He knew he couldn't get to see enough in one evening to effectively protect the castle. He was sure they wouldn't even allow him to stay for a long time. He smiled.
"Méav, you are a very intelligent young lady. Look," he gently wiped a tear from her cheek and waved his wand. A necklace appeared in his palm, a stone of the shape of a tear, glowing light blue light and emanating a slight warmth. He handed it to Méav whose eyes widened in amazement.
"In this necklace, there is all your strength and bravery hidden in one single tear of yours. If you don't want to, you will never feel weak again." She hesitatingly took the necklace and tied it up behind her neck. She smiled and the necklace retrieved her happiness in the form of a little strand of joyful energy reverberating through her body.
"Father started a riot again about who will wed me," Sighed Sinéad coming back to where Dumbledore and Méav stood. She walked lightly and the wind was ruffling her hair, however, he could see that she felt uneasy and tense. He raised his eyebrows. "You are about to be married?"
"My father would like me to be wed." She smirked wryly, "however, none of the violent warriors are suited for me. My own soul tells me that. When I get angry about this topic I tell him I'll marry The Dark Spirit of the Night if he doesn't stop prattling on about marriage. And he knows I am pretty well able to do that." Her eyes met Méav's glowing necklace. "What is this?!"
"I just sold ye for a necklace," said Méav with the feeling of satisfaction on her face about what a bargain she had made.
"WHAT?!"
"Your sister is right, Sinéad," Dumbledore's eyes glittered with mischief and when he saw Sinéad's unbelieving face he started laughing. "No worries, my dear, the question is whether or not you'd like to come with me and help to save the world?"
"Do you mean good faith, old man?"
"Indeed I do. I don't want your help for nothing, you will be paid for that as any other respectable woman would be."
"Very well then," she folded her arms on her chest, "under one condition."
He raised his eyebrows again.
"I will take what is dearest to me."