I wrote this a while ago and it's based of the song Newgrange by Celtic Woman. The lyrics are at the end. I do not own the Harry Potter series or Newgrange by Celtic Woman. Oh, and he's thinking of Binns because he's the history teacher and could probably tell stories about history and stuff like that, so yeah. Enjoy! Rud A Derimo pronounced Rud a Da-rye-mo. And thanks to my lovely new beta Miss Napier!


"Can you tell me a story, daddy?" Lily Luna Potter asked her father, "Please?"

Harry kissed his daughter's forehead, and then sighed. He was no good at telling stories, and Ginny was sick. Who was going to tell his daughter a story?

Harry supposed he could call on Binns "And don't bring in Binns, daddy. He's boring." Damn! Ginny had taught their daughter well.

He needed time. Time to go and get the perfect person. "Lily, why don't you go and get your brothers? I'm sure they'd love to hear a story."

"James wouldn't and Al says that he's getting too old, but I don't believe him. So why bother?"

"Go on."

"Fine." Lily sighed and got out of bed.

Now that his daughter was occupied, he had to pay a visit to an old friend. Now where did Ginny hide the Floo Powder?


"Please Professor? It would mean so much to me—them." Harry corrected himself.

"So, let me get this straight. You want me to tell your children a bedtime story?"

"…Yep, that's pretty much it!"

"What would it be about?"

"That would be up to lily to decide."

Minerva McGonagall sighed. "Fine. Merlin knows I've got plenty of stories up my sleeves."


"So, what would you children like this story to be about?"

"A Muggle story!" Lily Luna suggested. "Like a fairytale of some sort."

"Or, maybe a story from the Wizard World that no one's heard of yet." Albus Severus put in his input.

"Oh please Al. There's no such thing! Right Aunty Min?" Lily asked Minerva with bright eyes.

She wasn't the children's real aunt, but the Potters, Weasleys and the Hogwarts staff were very much like a family. They were all Aunt this or Uncle that to the Potter and Weasley children.

"How about we just don't have a story at all?" James Sirius suggested.

"No no, I've got one. From Albus' idea. There is…one story from the Wizarding World that very few know. It doesn't even have a title."

"Let's hear it!" Lily exclaimed excitedly.

'Once upon a time, in a place in the East of Scotland, Explorers set out to find anything they could get their hands on. Whether it be knowledge, power, land, fortune; anything they could find.

There was a small, particular band of Explorers. They called themselves Rud A Derimo.

One day when out exploring, they came across a ring of stones. Now usually, there is nothing wrong with a ring of stones, but in this ring of stones were people. Four adults teaching many children, to be exact.

The leader of these explorers asked everyone in Rud A Derimo if they knew of any legends of this place.

Only one did. He said that his father had told him never to go near Eastern Scotland, for Druids lived there. He did not know if his father had meant rich people, magic people, or the Druid creature.

The band of explorers left without being seen and went to tell their king what they had witnessed. The king sent his best men and their horses to investigate.

The King wasn't exactly a young man, and during the week it took his men to get to the ring of stones, he had died peacefully in his sleep.

Now these four adults' names were Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, and Helga Hufflepuff. They were not exactly stupid people. They supposed that it helped that Godric had been teaching a flying class and had seen the soldiers coming.

He told his class to keep going, and quickly went to Rowena and told her their predicament. She told Godric to fetch Salazar, thought better of it, and him fetch Helga while she fetched Salazar instead.

Once the four were gathered together, Rowena told them the plan.

Gryffindor's class was to distract them from the sky and then join Hufflepuff's class.

Hufflepuff's class was to distract and attack them from the front.

Slytherin and Ravenclaw's classes were to attack from the back.

So they went at it, killing every last soldier. Or so they thought. One had escaped and gone back to the new King.

He told the King what he had seen. The writing on the ring of stones as he was hiding between them, the strange weapon of choice they had used, and the jets of colored light streaming from each one.

He and the new King had come to the same conclusion after his story. Magic was real.

So the new king sent more men into the area, this time accompanying them as he was a fairly experienced swordsman.

This time however, the school of magic and its occupants had anticipated another attack even though they thought they had killed everyone. I mean really, someone was bound to come looking for their missing men.

So this time, they were lined up in rows and rows of students, the four teachers at the front, everyone with wands at the ready.

It was a winter's day and the sun had just risen as the army approached. Everyone was ready.

They got to everybody this time. No one got away. Not even the King.

According to legend, you can still see all the blood that had been spilled, and hear the sounds of the battle on this particular winter's day, just as the sun is rising.

And so, forgotten is the race that no one knows. Ours.'

"Wow…" Lily breathed. "Has anyone ever seen the blood or heard the sounds, Aunty Min?"

"Not that I know of."

"Interesting…" Al commented lost in thought. "How come I've never heard of this story before?"

"Godric, Rowena, Salazar, and Helga only told their descendants, who would then tell their descendants, and so on and so forth."

"…That was a lot cooler than I expected." James admitted. "So wait…if they only told their kids who told their kids, then does that mean…?"

Minerva nodded. "Yes. I am a descendant of Godric Gryffindor."

"But we're not your descendants." Al stated.

"I never was one for family traditions."

"What do you mean by that Aunty Min?"" Lily asked.

"That my dear, is a story for a different day. Right now, you should all be getting to bed." And with that, Minerva bade them good night and left the room. At the fireplace with a handful of Floor Powder in her hand, a voice stopped her.

"That was a really brilliant for a story made up on the spot."

"It was a true story, Harry."

"Well, I don't know anybody excluding you and now my children who have heard that story. Maybe you should write it down somewhere. Like a children's book or something."

"Yes…yes, I think I'll do…something like that." Minerva murmured more to herself than to Harry.

"Thank you so much for doing this." He said.

"Any time." And she meant it.

And this is what she wrote:

There is a place on the East
Mysterious ring, magical ring of stones.
The druids lived there once they said,
Forgotten is the race that no one knows.

Rum de rum, rud a derimo
Rum de rum, rud a derimo
Rum de rum, rud a derimo
Rum de rum, rud a derimo

The circled tomb of a different age
Secret lines carved on ancient stones.
Heroic kings laid down to rest,
Forgotten is the race that no one knows.

Rum de rum, rud a derimo
Rum de rum, rud a derimo
Rum de rum, rud a derimo
Rum de rum, rud a derimo

Wait for the sun on a winter's day
And a beam of light shines across the floor.
Mysterious ring, magical ring
Forgotten is the race that no one knows

Rum de rum, rud a derimo
Rum de rum, rud a derimo
Rum de rum, rud a derimo
Rum de rum, rud a derimo