Band of Boys SOLO

5 June 2020, Day of the Strawberry Moon
Loch Meadie, Highlands

Twelve boys stood in the sweltering heat of a summer's day in the northern Highlands. It was still morning, but promised to be a very hot day indeed. They ranged in age from ten to about sixteen or so. Eight stood in queue, and four of those were brothers. Two sets of twins. Colin and Liam stood at one end while Argus and Angus stood at the other. In between were four other lads, either distant relations or sons of the household at McCoire House. The older boys stood in a tight knot some short distance away, whispering and occasionally looking over towards the younger boys. They often smirked or winked slyly at the waiting boys.

All of them were blond or ginger. All except Hamish. He was noir and definitely stood out like the black sheep among his fairer haired cousins. He was also the biggest. At sixteen, he was well over six foot and broad as an ox. About as smart as one, too, Colin thought. For all he was in Hogwarts, the big Gryffindor could barely spell his own name. Didn't matter much to Hamish, as he said often enough that it was quidditch he was after. He was a beater, and had sent just about every opposing team member to hospital at one time or another. Sometimes, even during a quidditch match!

None of them wore any shoes or shirts. All wore drab kilts. This made sense, because they'd be outside all day and maybe into the next. There was no sense getting a perfectly good shirt all dirty and torn up. Lying on the ground in front of the queued up boys was a hurley and a small kit bag with a water bottle, some bandaging, a couple balls, a hunk of cheese and oatcakes. The water and food made sense. Hurley sticks meant they'd be playing a game at some point in time! But several of them wondered about the bandages. What did the older boys have in mind that so many rolls of bandage wraps would be needed? Surely a game of hurley wouldn't require so much blood and broken bones!

Hamish didn't care too much for Colin, and the feeling was mutual. Colin's Da was the chief of the McCoires, and Hamish's Da wanted to be chief of the McCoires. At last he and the older boys sauntered over towards the younger ones. Hamish looked them all over, as if he were inspecting his troops. "Right. Ye all ken why we're here then."

One of the boys in the middle of the queue, David, stuttered: "N-Nay. 'Amish. Y-Ye didna t-tell us..."

THAM!

Hamish thunked David on his forehead when sent the smaller boy reeling backwards! Colin's eyes widened. In fear, a little. Hamish was like an erumpent compared to Colin. But still he felt responsible for the boys in the queue at least. He was the oldest of them, and the son of the chief. "Oi! Hamish!" Colin shouted. "Lad's right! Ye didna tell us aucht nor ocht! ⁽¹⁾"

Hamish looked over towards Colin. Colin was certain that the look contained more than mere disdain at being interrupted. Hamish was the leader of the band of boys, after all. And here he was at the induction of a load of new boys and already the chief's son was getting in the way! No, the look was one of pure hatred.

"Shut it Colin. Just because yer Da is---"

"Don't bring me Da into it! You---"

"Look Colin. Yer Da's a git."

"Well, yer Da's a right wanker Hamish!"

A hand slipped around Colin's wrist. Liam. The voice of reason of the twins. Well, only slightly more reasonable than Colin --- after all, Liam was smart enough to stay clear of a boy who was not only as strong as a bull, but led a gang of wand wielding boys who knew all kinds of spells!

"Is not! Anyway, everyone knows yer Da only became chief cos he was involved in Uncle Colin's death. He---"

"You take that back, Hamish!"

"Nae. I'll not!"

"Uncle Colin died defending Mister Potter, and Da fought in the battle, too! And where was yer Da, Hamish, eh? In London curled up wi that muggle lady? Or was she yer Ma? Working for Riddle, no doubt!" Colin smirked. He knew he'd hit a tender spot with that rejoinder!

Hamish looked like he was going to explode. "Sgain, a Chailean. ⁽²⁾" Hamish drew his knife from the sheath on his belt. The tension among the boys heightened. Colin hesitated. He was okay with handling the knife. Mostly they'd practiced with wooden blades, but really, getting into a real knife fight with Hamish would be suicide! Hamish sneered at what he took to be weakness on Colin's part.

And with a movement as quick as an adder's, the blade flicked upwards and kissed Colin's left cheek! He felt the warm blood begin to trickle down from his forehead and cheek. David gasped. Liam dabbed at Colin's face. The wound was deep. Hamish leaned in towards his younger cousin, almost embracing him. Colin could feel the sticky warmth of the knife on his left chest. Hamish whispered into his ear: "Never call him Riddle, lad. One day ye'll pay dearly for this. You and yer Da."

With a snort, Hamish ordered one of the other older boys to see to Colin's face. The healing was quick and far from perfect. Though the wound closed over, Colin could feel a slight tugging in his cheek. Liam held Colin's face in his hands, looking his twin over. "Well, lad! They'll be able to tell us apart now anyway! That's a wicked scar --- a rakish smirk ye've got now, I'd say! But good on ye lad for not pulling yer own knife. Ye've got more brains than that one! At least he left poor Davie alone!"

It was a kind of baptism by blood. A foreshadowing of a theme that Colin felt might follow him the rest of his life. Spilling his own blood for others. And so began the trials that would lead to Colin and Liam and the other young lads into the Band of Boys.

Reducio

1. Ye didna tell us aucht nor ocht! You didn't tell us nothing at all!
2. Sgain, a Chaileann. Knife, Colin.