Chapter Twenty: Of the Clan Tyree

Chapter Twenty: Of the Clan Tyree

"So you understand," Siofre said questioningly, "I can admit you to the wards easily with no great ado. With a mere pinprick to your finger, I'd bind you to the land, add you to the wards, and free you'd be to Apparate almost anywhere within these grounds once you are already anywhere on the estate, with no other measures necessary. But if I join you to the clan first, I may then admit you to the full family wards, and you could Apparate to whatever point you wish that is encompassed by this estate, from wherever you are, whether on or off the property, and you may likewise Apparate into or out of any of the dwellings or outbuildings on the estate, unless there is a separate Anti-Apparition ward in place. Do you wish to join the Clan Tyree, Magister?"

Johannes was silent for a moment, then he looked off over the grounds, taking in the vista before him. Siofre had Apparated him to the highest hill on the estate, where the remains of an ancient tower stood behind them. From that point, he could see the whole of the estate, all but what disappeared in the low, misty cloud to the far northeast, and if he turned his eyes to the west and the south, he could see the machairs and the field of bere he had planted, and beyond that, the coast and the sea. He looked again toward the large house not much below them, the stone castle with its towers and turrets, which had become his home over the past several weeks.

He shook his head slightly, and Siofre thought for a moment that he would refuse the offer or had not understood it, but he turned to face her fully, looking down into her eyes, his lips parted as he considered her.

"To join the clan . . . That is a most great honour you offer, Madam Tyree," he said softly. "I have heard something of this clan . . . from Minerva, from Malcolm, from others. The only solely wizarding Scottish clan, with a long history, strong roots, and many secrets, the clan whose witches are foremost." He reached out with one hand, and Siofre gave him hers. He bowed over it slowly, not perfunctorily. Straightening, he said, "Aye, I will join your clan, Madam Tyree, even though I do not completely understand it."

"Have you questions about the ritual?"

"It is like an adoption, yes?"

"A bit, but you belong to the clan, and the clan to you, not to a single family, and your loyalty to the clan and its many members is very important, though not paramount to your own conscience. If a Tyree...whether they bear that name or no...comes to you for assistance, you give it, unless the assistance requested goes against your conscience."

Johannes nodded. "I can do that."

"And it is unlike a usual adoption in that you do not have a mother, or a father, and you are not a . . . you are not a dependant, you understand, nor an heir to property, only to tradition."

Johannes smiled. "I am not a child for many years, Siofre."

Siofre chuckled. "You could still be adopted as a son and heir within a family, but you are not in this ritual. The clan and the family adoptions are usually performed as separate rites."

Johannes hesitated, looking uncomfortable.

"What is it?" Siofre asked.

"You do not wish to adopt me . . ." It was not quite a question.

Siofre blinked. "Nay." She shook her head.

Johannes breathed a sigh and relaxed. "Good. I would not wish to offend you by declining."

"You will be family in a sense, of course, and you will be closer to me than to any other, as I am the one to invite you, as well as the one to perform the ritual."

Johannes nodded. "That is good."

It was Siofre's turn to relax. "Aye. Any other questions?"

"Legally, within British wizarding law, what is the . . . the status of this ritual?"

Siofre quirked a crooked grin. "It is not sanctioned, not within British borders, as it is a blood ritual that does not fall within their narrowly prescribed list of legal blood magic. The clan joining, however, does have legal status, as contradictory as that may seem. If ever you are fleeing from the British wizarding authorities...though I canna imagine such a day...you have a right to seek refuge on the isle of Tiriodh Beag; that right is respected by the British Ministry and your clan membership is recognised. This is a centuries' old practice, and only once did any British minister or English wizarding chief attempt to violate that right. I will not alarm you with the details of their fates, but the English authorities did not succeed, and our power has not diminished with the years. When you are on Tiree, you are always safe from the English...or from anyone else. You may also legally add 'Tyree' just before your own family name and sign it that way in official documents, if you wish, or add 'of Tyree' after it. There are a few additional small details...some to do with the Muggle world...but I don't think any of them are pertinent at the moment."

"But if I commit a crime...and I would not...but if I committed one, should not the conscience of the Tyrees upon the island lead them to surrender me to the British Ministry?" Johannes asked, puzzled.

Siofre laughed. "Nay. Conscience might require them to try you themselves, if they believed the charges had merit, and to mete out their own justice, but not to surrender you."

"I see . . . and are there . . . I do not know how to ask this . . . are there obligations I have? Laws of the island, or of the Tyree clan?"

"No laws but those natural to us. Do not steal from another member of the clan, do not injure another unless in defence of self or other, do not murder another human, whether magic or Muggle. Defer to the judgment of the Tyree witches' comhairle...the witches' council...over that of any other wizarding council, gamot, or ministry. There were once more laws of obedience to the clan grandmothers, but they have become unnecessary, obsolete," Siofre said. "Other than that, there are only principles to aspire to. To be upright and to follow your conscience, to respect elders, to first seek Tyree counsel or aid in crisis, and to lend aid to any of the clan who request it, your conscience allowing."

"Do only witches sit on the council of Tiree?" Johannes asked curiously.

"There are three councils. The witches' comhairle, which is the primary council...the highest one, if you wish to put it in those terms...then the wizards' council of five elders, which deals with wizards' matters and handles some relations with those outside the clan, generally trade, and then there is a council of twelve that consists of witches and wizards who are chosen from among those who live on Tiree by the inhabitants of the island. They need only have reached thirty years of age, and they deal with minor questions and with . . . social events, you might say. Any member of the general council can bring an issue before the witches' comhairle for deciding, and the question must be addressed by the comhairle. They canna dismiss it from consideration as they might something brought them from some other clan member without that standing."

"Does not my clan membership require some approval by a council, then?" Johannes asked.

"Nay. I have authority to join you without any approval from any other. It is not lightly done, Honnie," she added.

"You are on this, um, witches' corya?" Johannes asked, struggling to pronounce the Gaelic.

Siofre suppressed her smile. "Aye, I am on the council. Third witch of nine."

"How are they selected?"

Siofre hesitated. "It is a witches' knowledge and witches' magic, what you ask about, you understand, but it is partly upon basis of age and experience. Beyond that . . ." Siofre shook her head.

Johannes nodded. "I understand."

"And so you are still willing to become a member of the Tyree clan?"

"Yes. Aye. As long as it does not require me to learn Scottish."

Siofre laughed at that. "Nay, no such thing! There are even some members born to the clan who do not speak it these days...Connor does not, no more than a few words, and Bertrand's Gaelic was never good."

Johannes smiled. "Good then. Do we do this now? Today?"

Siofre nodded and drew the sheathed knife from her pocket. "Much of the ritual is in Gaelic, and an ancient dialect...although there are a few sections that I will say in English for you...so you will not understand most of it. But it will bind your blood to the blood of the Clan Tyree through my blood, and your magic to the clan's magic through mine. There is a place for you to make agreement, an oath of sorts, to bind you willingly. That I will repeat in English for you."

"I am ready. What do you need of me?"

"Your left arm bared," Siofre instructed. "Just to the elbow suffices. You understand this is not a pinprick such as your Hogwarts ritual required when you became Head of Ravenclaw?"

Johannes's brow rose. "You know of that?"

Siofre cackled. "Of that little bit of magic, yes. Hogwarts is in Scotland, after all, even an we Tyrees often eschew its education. But you understand that more than a wee drop of your blood will flow?"

Johannes nodded. His arm was already bared to the elbow; he had removed his cloak and laid it upon a rock. His jacket had followed it, and then he rolled up his sleeve. He shivered slightly in the cool breeze. Siofre cast a warming charm on the air around him, and he smiled.

"You have done this before?" Johannes asked as Siofre drew the Charmed knife from its sheath and replaced the sheath in her robe pocket, putting the bare blade in her belt.

"Aye, several times, though I've not invited anyone myself before. Or I should say, I have never both performed the ritual and invited someone to join the clan. When I was a young witch, I asked that Collum McGonagall be joined to the clan, and that ritual was performed by Moira Tyree. So this is a bit different from the other rituals I've performed, since there are only we two here, and not a third, some other who made the request for the ritual and who would also participate in it, sponsoring you, so to speak."

"I see. And no witness is needed?"

"Nay. The magic and the blood provide a testament," Siofre replied. "Now, hold out your left arm to me. Become aware of the pulse of your magic flowing through your body and through your left hand and arm. You must now trust me, and do not stop me with any question. When you must do anything, I will tell you. You are ready?"

Johannes nodded. "Aye. And I trust you. Utterly." His eyes met hers, and Siofre felt his trust, and more.

Siofre quickly bared her own left arm, moving aside her cape to hang down her back and leaving both arms free, then rolling up the sleeve of her robe. She grasped his arm, placing her hand beneath his forearm so that his arm rested across hers, his hand near her elbow.

"You may take hold of me if you wish...now or when I use the blade. It may be somewhat uncomfortable...painful, actually...but do try not to flinch, or it will be worse. Remain still and just grip me harder if you need to do so."

Johannes nodded, but grasped her arm only lightly.

"One final question for you, Honnie: what is your full name? Have you any middle name?"

"Johannes Christian Maria Birnbaum."

"Maria?" Siofre asked, unable to stop herself.

"Aye. Unusual here, more common where I am from, and in my mother's family."

Siofre nodded and drew her wand. "And now to begin. You do agree freely to join the Clan Tyree, joining your magic to the clan's, your blood to ours, sharing in our strength and sharing your own?"

Johannes nodded. "I do, freely."

Siofre began to chant in Gaelic, and Johannes understood none of it, though twice, he did catch the name of Tyree, and once, his own name in full. Siofre waved her wand, moving it in a circle over their arms, and Johannes felt Siofre's magic flow over his forearm, seeming to wrap it, or encase it, then he felt an unusual sensation of tugging at his own magic, weaving it into the magic around their arms. He didn't resist, but he was somewhat alarmed by the physical reaction the intertwining of their magic was eliciting in him. The sensations of his magic flowing out and other magic joining it, then Siofre's magic working its way into his arm to flow through him, created a physical tingling that began in his arm but spread through his body, even into his groin, which interpreted the sensations as sexually arousing.

Johannes relaxed and reasoned that this was likely an expected side-effect of the ritual, at least when done between a witch and a wizard. He only hoped that the arousal would remain mild enough so that he wouldn't get a full erection...that might be noticeable and rather embarrassing. Siofre seemed wholly focussed on the spells she was casting, however, and her gaze was on their arms, now joined by a glowing shell of magic.

When the glow spread gossamer threads of light from their arms toward their bodies, Siofre pocketed her wand and drew out the long copper knife. She said a few more incomprehensible words, then, using the point of the sharp Charmed blade, she drew a long incision up her own inner arm, from wrist to elbow. The cut didn't graze any large veins, and her blood flowed gently from the incision, running over her arm and dripping onto the stony ground.

She wiped the long, curved edge of the Charmed blade through her blood, then she raised her eyes to meet Johannes's. He nodded, and she asked him a question in Gaelic, repeating it in English: "Do you, Johannes Christian Maria Birnbaum, join your blood freely with mine and with the blood of my kin, to be joined forever with our clan and to show your loyalty first to the Clan Tyree, but for the dictates of your conscience?"

"Aye, I join freely the Clan Tyree."

"And with your blood, your magic, also?"

Johannes nodded. His blood and his magic, joined to the clan and to Siofre, he thought. His first loyalty would always be to her, and then to her clan, for such were the dictates of his conscience. "Aye, my blood and my magic together."

Siofre smiled slightly and nodded. With one word, and tightening the grip of her left hand on his arm, she used the long, curved, bloodied blade to slice into the soft skin of his inner forearm. The long incision bled freely, but other than a slight initial burning sensation, Johannes found it surprisingly unpainful, and he loosened his own grip on Siofre's arm, which he had unconsciously tightened in anticipation.

Their blood seemed to swim and merge, swirling on their arms and in the air around them, joining the glowing aurora of magic surrounding their arms. Siofre chanted over the blood, describing figures in it with the point of the dagger, runes of some sort, Johannes thought. The symbols each glowed brightly for a moment before subsiding back into the shell of magic and blood, and Johannes felt each one as though it were hot candle wax against his skin, then seeping into his arm and integrating itself into his magic.

Siofre wiped the bloody blade against her arm, then replaced it in her belt. Her wand flew to her fingers. She breathed out slowly, creating a warm breeze from between her lips, as she tapped the tip of her wand once against the glowing, pulsing shell of magic. A sound rang out, like that of a clear bell, and the encasing magic fell away from their arms and dissipated. Siofre loosened her grip on Johannes's arm and flicked her wand once, casting a common healing charm, then she let go.

"There. Now you are of the Clan Tyree, Johannes. Welcome, cousin!"

Johannes smiled. "Thank you." He bowed slightly.

"And now, your first favour asked by a member of the clan to you as a member of the clan." Siofre held out her arm. "Would you heal my scratch, Honnie?"

Johannes immediately drew his wand and, holding her left hand in his, he cast a healing charm on the long, still bleeding cut, then cast a cleansing charm on her stained arm and hand. "That was all right? To clean it?"

"Aye, thank you. And you may clean your own arm, though we will need a bit more of your blood for the wards, so you may wish to wait. Just a wee drop this time, though," Siofre said. She bent and picked up something from the rock where their blood had dripped. She examined it closely, and Johannes thought that an odd expression of surprise flitted across her face.

"What is it?"

"It is the artifact from the ritual. One is always created. It drops from the blood and magic when the sleeve of magic is removed at the end there...when there was the ringing. Each is different."

"May I see it?"

Siofre handed it to him. "You may have it...though I would like the loan of it for a day or two, if I may."

Johannes nodded. "Of course."

He examined the artifact, which lay heavily in the palm of his hand. Never having seen one, he hadn't any idea what Siofre had found remarkable in it, or surprising. It was smooth and seemed made of gold, with veins of stone, blood red and deep malachite green. Impressed upon one side was an outlined figure that looked to Johannes like a cup or chalice with lines emerging from it, and the other side was smooth and rounded. He handed the artifact back to Siofre.

"Is it unusual?" Johannes asked.

"Each one is different, as I said, but this one . . . aye, it is unusual, I find." She slipped the stone into her pocket. "Come, time for the wards, then we'll go home for lunch, eh? I asked Multry for something special today. Something for you, to celebrate. She mentioned potato dumplings."

Author's Note: In the next chapter, Siofre visits wizarding Tiree Beag again, and later, Malcolm drops by. Characters will include Siofre, Johannes, Lydia, Malcolm, and Bridie.