11 A.M.

Martine had told him to wait. Adley could be quite the patient little angel when it suited him, but he was also scathingly independent for a child of eleven, and felt there was no use or reward in waiting. He had the suspicion that Martine knew it, too, having practically raised him. He could have sworn he'd seen her see him, as he slipped past a rack of summer robes and out the door of the dress shop where his sister had been picking up several altered garments for their habitually incapacitated mother. She hadn't chased after him.

Moving down Diagon Alley at a slow pace, but one that was decidedly not disoriented or wayward, the little boy looked transiently from shop window to shop window, dismissing each display in turn. He had taken a handful of galleons from his sister's purse, which she'd conveniently left right there on the chair beside him while she sifted through the garments with the tailor. A clerk had eyed him as he'd rummaged stealthily through the little pocketbook, and he'd stared right back at her, his massive blue eyes apparently unsettling enough to make the woman turn away and let him go about his business.

It took nearly twenty minutes at his size and preset pace to reach his desired destination, but Adley seemed not to be out of breath or energy, or bothered at all. The sun and his skin were mutually exclusive existences. His hair was in place and his clothes were still spotless. Almost eerily so for a troublesome little boy. He reached up and pulled at the handle of the shop's door with purpose and self-possession all at once. Precocious would have been the right word, but he wasn't always glittering and garrulous enough for that title. Right now, for example, Adley was disquietingly quiet.

Stepping into the shop, the young wizard looked around. He'd been in here twice before: once with an aunt, and once with his father. Now it was Adley's turn.

"I'd like to buy a wand," he informed a young employee behind a tall counter. He didn't stand on the tips of his toes or cling to the table's edge like many a children and vertically challenged people might. Indeed, this caused the clerk to blink and look around for the source of the voice before he finally noticed Adley, half obscured way down there.

"I'd like to buy a wand, please," he repeated, using the word that came as a standard first day lesson when new tutors came to the house. As if Adley were a baby and couldn't manage a single syllable.

The man behind the counter smiled. Adley immediately recognized it. He had never seen the man, but he knew the smile. He knew this was going to be yet another one of those adults who underestimated him, and it was just as well for Adley, because it meant that the man was probably overestimating himself. The boy simply continued to stare until the shopkeeper-- whom he assumed was not the legendary Ollivander, or anyone near as prestigious-- moved around the counter and nodded. He didn't ask where the boy's chaperon was, and whether he had money to actually pay for a new wand. There was still a shadow of a smirk, and an air of 'humor me' attached to the gruff young fellow.

Adley followed him silently in to the middle aisle, which was comprised of two long and towering, vertigo-inducing shelves stuffed with boxes. The Rothwell child didn't shout, but did look apprehensive for the briefest moment as a tape measure popped into the air and snaked around his limps, sizing him for reasons unknown. As far as the boy knew, wand size had nothing to do with the length of one's arm.

Euphemia walked a few paces ahead; her hands tucked into the pockets of her pea coat and her knee highs slowly dropping from her knees, much to her annoyance. Her knobbly knees exposed by the thigh length grey skirt, the only bit of colour was from the shockingly red pea coat. Her feet were clad in a designer pair of paten leather mary jane style shoes, she was afraid they would be scuffed by the outside world. Beneath her pea coat was a simple cotton shirt with a slight pattern of small flowers. She looked like a small young adult with the way she dressed, but it also was not her choice as her mother generally picked out her clothing. Her hair was down but not lose held back by a white ribbon with a bowl underneath the weight of her hair as she always made a stink when it was on the top of her head. Effie felt people looked ridiculous with bows on the top of their heads.

She came to a stop near the shop that was her destination and turned on her heels to look at her nanny who, as per her instruction, was a few paces behind her. She looked at the woman; it was an ice-cold look that told her to hurry up. Ebony, or whatever this one’s name was appeared to be turning out to be quite annoying, she might be fired quicker than she thought. “You remain here. I will go in.” She needed no help in this matter, she just needed some wand polish but apparently she was not allowed to go in to Diagon Alley alone.

Euphemia placed her hand on the door turning it to open in to see Adley. A sneer and disgusted look crossed her face as she looked the boy over. With her nose proudly held in the air she walked to stand near the insufferable boy. It was only because she couldn’t twist him around her finger like everyone else. She stood somewhat near him before her hands went into her bag that hung across her frame in search of some of her money. Inside her bag was her beloved journal, never was she without it. “I would like some service please.” She said barely looking at Adley not caring if he was here first. “I need some good wand polish.” She raised an eyebrow as she looked over at Adley and chuckled at his expense.

“You don’t have a wand yet?” Effie scoffed as she looked back to the attendant. “No family property you are capable of using?” Euphmeia glanced from the corner of her eye at him. Euphemia was the proud owner of a family heir, the Dolohov wand. Her elder sister did not have the honour of using the wand, her deceased grandfather asked for Euphemia to gain ownership.

Annoyed at the waiting game she had to play she rudely tapped her foot against the wood creating an annoying droning sound of displeasure. She wanted her service and quickly because breathing the same air as Adley was ville and nauseating.

Thus far, the morning had been pleasant if a bit chilly. Then again, everything was chillier over in Knockturn Alley and as Rocio made the turn from one to the other she could pracically feel the climate change as the air around her rose to a just barely warmer temperature. The change meant nothing, as she pulled her cloak closer to her lithe body and began to make her way through Diagon, being particularly careful not to bump into anyone. There was really no reason for her to have to apologize when she would never mean the words.

She walked with a steady pace as she stared forward, a straight look on her face. Easier to ignore bad blood than to acknowledge its presence, and she was certain that there was bad blood around. There were several children, after all, excitement apparent on their faces as they dashed from one shop to the next. They were so... uncouth. Yes, that was the proper word for it, hopefully for every single one of them it was an awkward phase, though she highly doubted that this would be the case, especially for certain ones of them.

She was doing quite well at ignoring the hubbub, until she reached the pinnacle of obnoxious stores in Diagon Alley. What next - a store selling exclusively muggle items? Worse, even, it was owned by a squib, a pureblooded disgrace to her family name. Music came from the store, the sounds reverberating loudly to her delicate ears and a sneer grew on her face, the urge to reach for her wand and blast the store - or at least the speakers the music came from - to bits was strong within her. She deplored any form of music that was not Spanish or Classical. Quinn had no taste in music and no right to be in Diagon Alley, Rocio was certain of that, but she did have her Ministry Record to worry about and so resisted the maleficent urge within her and simply quickened her pace.

Fortunately, she was soon away from that horrible noise and in sight of Ollivander's Wand Shop. Her wand was not from the shop, really. She had bought it in Spain, nearly eighteen years prior. She and her mother had made a special trip just for that one central piece of her magical life. The smooth - if fairly short - wand had been customized for her as well, and she would rather die than let it be snapped in front of her face. There were some things she simply would not allow to ever happen, another was her house elves learning how to dance. That would make her life absolutely dreadful.

She pushed the door to the shop opening, unsettling a fine layer of dust that was on the floor and causing the bells that hung above it to trill briefly, announcing her presence. Her eyes swept the room, looking for the sales clerk, and noting two familiar little urchins in the shop as well. The one she knew more than the other as he had siblings who were roughly her age. Though both of them tended to be present at more formal gatherings, balls and the like where self-respecting purebloods attempted to relive the glory of the golden years.

She cleared her throat and arched an eyebrow at the girl, the one she really knew little of. In fact, it was merely the last name that came to mind at the moment. "Dolohov." She nodded at her, eyebrow arching as she heard the comment made to the youngest Rothwell. She certainly was stuck-up it seemed, though being a Dolohov certainly helped with that matter. Then again, perhaps she had never insulted Rothwell before and was unsure what she was entering into. "Rothwell. I hope I have not interrupted anything."

Adley's face, rather blank despite his preoccupation with the airborne, serpentine measuring tape, seemed to morph into something considerably less attractive when he saw who had stepped over the threshold. Indeed, the child mirrored Euphemia Grissom-Dolohov's demonic little sneer, obviously not any more pleased to set eyes on her as she was to stumble upon him. "Wait your turn," he said flatly, his eyes moving back to his own extended arms even before the first syllable left his tongue. He wouldn't ordinarily be so rude to someone in public, but Effie-- Euphemia, he never called her Effie-- was a prize exception. Finding a good wand polish paled in comparison to a unearthing a wizard's first wand. Besides, Adley knew which one cost more, and thus which was better for business.

“You don’t have a wand yet? ...No family property you are capable of using?”

Adley's face turned less passive still. He could be as ugly and evil as he was cherubic and elf-like. "I want my own wand," he informed the girl, as if nothing could be more obvious. He didn't bother addressing her first question. These things took time. (And, less worth mentioning still, Adley's parents hadn't had the hour to take him to buy one yet.) Did she have bricks for a brain? (No. That would have been preferable to this.) Truthfully, Adley was the youngest of four children, and had not been offered anyone's old relic of a wand. Other things, certainly, but not this. But it didn't bother him either way, because he'd always heard that the wand chose the wizard, and things like cores, wood type, and size were very particular for each owner. Maybe Euphemia was a carbon copy of whomever's wand she'd been given, but Adley was Adley. Not that he would have particularly minded being allowed to use his father's now and again, just as he cherished most things his brother gave him.

The boy's eyes moved up his arm, skirted past Euphemia, and landed at last on the woman who had just walked in after her. Rocio Adair was a family acquaintance, and an old schoolmate of two of his siblings. She designed and sold many of the most favored garments in wizarding Britain, Adley was pretty sure, for Martine's long list of places to visit that day included Miss Adair's boutique. He guessed, too, that she knew his father well enough... but then Adley had no idea what exactly it was his father did for business. (Which of course privately infuriated him and provoked him into further admiring the man all in one sweeping motion.) At any rate, Rocio was far more worthy of respect and suspicion, whereas Euphemia was just a waste of someone's decent genes.

"Dolohov. Rothwell. I hope I have not interrupted anything."

The boy didn't smile, but looked mildly pacified and resumed his cool nonchalance when the formidable woman barked out Effie's name. Maybe it wasn't a bark, but he still liked to imagine that she was scolding the girl. It made it easier to carry on with his wand hunting. Adley returned a nod when Rocio addressed him too; hopefully with more mutual respect. He liked the idea of having people on his side. "Of course not, madam," he assured her placidly, his answer coinciding with the conclusion of the measurement-taking.

The clerk's eyes seemed to find Rocio, and Adley watched him pause, waiting to do her bidding before he carried on with the children's power struggle. It annoyed Adley a bit, but it was much better to let the Adair woman win than to let Effie have her way. Wand polish. What a little prat. He was sure her mother had plenty back home. As if even the proudest of children had a reason to polish their wands, anyway, being disallowed to do magic before they started school. (Though Adley might try.) More likely, Euphemia had probably bored herself to tears being Euphemia, and had used wand polish as an excuse to escape her house. Adley would, too, because he imagined she had one of those bedrooms stuffed with dreadful dolls who all looked exactly like her. "I'm just finding my wand. I-- we--" He amended, begrudgingly, but without betraying as much in his voice. "Begin at Hogwarts in September."

When the clerk finally turned his attention back to the child's quest, it took only a few minutes before Adley's small arms were being laden with boxes. The Rothwell boy set them in a pile on the floor and picked up the first one. He had barely pulled back the lid and had not even touched it when he knew it was all wrong. One quick flick of the thing was assurance enough to discard it. He picked up another box, his eyes moving discreetly to Euphemia and then Rocio before he tested the wand inside. He wished the former weren't there watching, though he didn't mind the woman. This was supposed to be his moment.

Even without anything to spend in the shops that lined the street, Diagon Alley had yet to loose its fascination.  It was just a long line of shop after shop - each filled with more amazing and indescribable merchandise than the one before.  And, it was taking multiple trips to take most of it in.  Usually, when she first entered a shop, she could get away with a handful of breathless 'What's that?  And what does it do?' before the shopkeeper got bored and told her to just read the display label.  So, with the rest of the baubles and trinkets, Mairead was left to come up with her own descriptions of the remaining wares.  Remarkably, despite her best efforts concocting the most ludicrous labels the truth about the items was always more outrageous. 

The couple weeks Mairead had spent at the Grimlish residence had been remarkable.  She'd become good friends Cassie who'd given her an ongoing whirlwind tour of the house and their neighborhood.  The older girl, Rhiannon, wasn't not nice, but she seemed far too involved with her books and such. 

The house and surrounding area was fascinating enough that it had occupied her mind for almost the first two weeks.  But, as the second week started to wear on, the restlessness grew.  She wasn't used to being stationary and, she slowly began to wander further and further from the house.  She'd taken the underground regularly when she was in Dublin so she didn't give it a second thought when she finally found her way to the closest station.  It only took a few requests for directions to find her way back to the pub and through the wall behind back to the mecca of the strange that was Diagon Alley.

After a quick trip into the joke shop, Mairead found herself standing in front of a window, her hand in her pocket, petting the puffskein in her pocket.  So, those were them.  The source of everything that, one day, she'd be able to do.  Sticks of various sizes were displayed in the window.  They ranged in sizes, colors and lengths.  Curiosity got the better of her and Mairead pushed through the door into the shop. 

Once inside, her eyes passed over the cluster of people before looking around the shop.  Other than the display in the window, the interior of the shop wasn't that exciting - just shelves and shelves of long thin boxes.  Mairead turned to leave when she overheard the young boy's comment. 

"Ye too?"  Mairead asked, excitedly, completely unaware of the tension that had been in the conversation.  "Yer going to Hogwarts?  In a few months?"  She turned fully to the boy.  "I'm starting there, too!" she declared enthusiastically, looking around at the other two that seemed to be talking to the boy.  She quickly sized up the girl that appeared close to her age - she had that air about her that Mairead had grown to associate with the well-to-do school kids at home.  She scowled at the girl, her decision about her already made  The other woman was an adult and Mairead didn't spare her a second thought.  She turned back to the boy.

"M'name's Mairead!" she said cheerfully.  "Are ye buying yer ... the ... wand?" she asked.  She, then, realized the tension in the boy's stance. 

Want his own wand? That was silly in Euphemia’s mind because she was more than happy to have the power of her grandmother’s wand between her hands. She had been able to hold it recently but told not to use it, it was merely a moment for herself to share with the wand to see if anything would happen. As was expected she flicked the wand and something delightful happened just as her parents had expected. Effie had never been more pleased with herself than at that moment when some stars and sparkles left the wand, over course something not so delightful happened as something caught fire but it was expected. Effie would leave that portion of the story out whenever she spoke of the moment when she first held her wand. Her parents had warned her that the wand could be temperamental purely because the wand did not pick her but because she had been picked for the wand. The wand had to be getting used to it by now because it was handed down each time the previous owner passed on. To her it was a great honour to have her grandmother’s wand, and to think Adley had to have a new one.

“Well whatever wand you will have will be yours.” Whether it was second hand from a legacy or not it was your wand once in your possession. Effie thought Adley quite silly for thinking otherwise. Of course she thought everything about Adley was silly. She eyed him carefully and noticed that he was looking to someone else as she had heard the door open and close. Normally Effie took little time to notice the other people around her as they were usually of no consequence and why should now be any different? Of course upon hearing a portion of her last name, the most known of the two she turned to see who could know of her. Effie was not surprised she was known because she was after all a Dolohov.

Effie did not appreciate to be looked at or addressed with such tone. She looked at the older woman carefully sizing her up and making some form of opinion. Adley seemed to know her and that in itself was enough to turn her off of her. Effie was sure that due to her knowledge she had to be of a pure crop, which did give her a few extra points on the metaphorical scoreboard. The face of course looked familiar and wit the way Adley spoke and appeared to know her Effie felt as entitled to know her as well.

Mere mention of Hogwarts turned her sharp attention to Adley, “I can speak for myself.” She had heard his correction to a ‘we’ and that was just not acceptable. It was very unfortunate that the two would have to attend Hogwarts together. She was sickened by the idea of attending classes together or even sharing meal space with the waste of space and skin. If she thought Adley was a waste of space she had not truly expected the girl who would arrive next.

This girl, whoever she was, would attend Hogwarts too? Effie felt bile slip up into her mouth leaving a disgusted taste and expression on her face. The girl spoke poor English and what she wore was unacceptable. The way the girl carried herself and butted into a conversation that was so obviously not involving her. Effie felt much relief when the focus of this girl was not on her but on Adley, let the pathetic oaf deal with her. The arrival of this dirty girl who obviously was confused by the etiquette of social interaction made Euphemia desire to get her wand polish and leave quickly. Of course the inept store clerk was obviously having difficulty multitasking.

A slight chuckle left her as the girl, Mairead, introduced herself. The poor grammar and manner of speech was enough to make Effie feel rather nauseous. Who ever this girl was there was no way she could be of pure society, which was taking of major points of the metaphorical scoreboard. She was nearing negative tallies and if she turned out to be muggleborn she would be so negative it would take a miracle to return her to a positive score. Effie disliked muggleborns, but she wasn’t so wholeheartedly against them when they had some grooming, talent, and air about them. For the sack of having some form of tolerance for this disgraceful girl she hoped she was not a muggleborn.

She nodded at him before observing the other girl briefly. Well, a Dolohov was still someone to be reckoned with, though she supposed that Adley was too. His siblings had always been able to hold their own. There was, however, something unsettling about the little Dolohov as though Hades himself had ascended the earth and settled in her body. She did not appear pleasant, nor did she try to hide the fact that she disliked the company around her. Rocio was unsure what to think. A part of her was pleased to see a pureblood commanding respect and perhaps the publicly unsure status of the Rothwell family added to her displeasure, but Rocio knew where their loyalties had lain and she respected them for it.

When the clerk spoke to her she looked up at him briefly. “I believe the boy was here first, was he not?” She was wondering to see what Adley’s wand core would be. How dreadful if he ended up with unicorn hair, so nasty for doing bits of darker magic. Unicorn hair was one of the least workable substances to put in a wand in her opinion. She was unsure what wizards with Unicorn hair in their wands did for a living, they probably pet kittens or something foolish like that or they were useless librarians, since they could not do the work themselves they researched for others. Her own wand had a dragon heartstring core, perhaps that was why she loved reptiles so much.

“I am feeling terribly inclined to watch a wand measuring, I am only here to talk about the snake skin wand holster I requested.” She would love to see what it was like here at Ollivander’s, she had bought her wand in Spain, not here. Perhaps it was the same, but she could never be sure. She nodded sagely at him. “Ah, first year shopping spree. I see.” The wand did make the wizard after all. It was not only that it chose, it also could make or break a wizard. One with a bad wand would probably fail at many of the spells attempted. She reached for her pocket discreetly, wondering if perhaps putting a shield around herself and Euphemia might not be a good idea - just in case.

Adley was still busy trying out wands when another - what exactly was it? It looked like a boy to Rocio though she supposed one could never be sure of that. A dirty, rotten street urchin. Sneering with digust she moved back, positive that being near the thing would sully her robes. Was it some form of hobo? Was it lost? Was that a faint whiff of something disgusting she caught in the air? All she knew was that this thing, whatever it was, would probably sully the good name of Hogwarts. And then... it spoke.

At that, Rocio knew the thing was not pure, a crime in her mind and quite likely in the little Dolohov’s as well. She moved a smidge nearer to the other pureblood before opening her mouth to speak. “What exactly are you?” Though an adult, Rocio was horrid at hiding her true emotions and her blunt actions often pointed this out. The word mudblood was being screamed loudly in her head, but she dared not speak it aloud even though the thing would have no idea what it meant. “Are you even human?”

---

This is a novel, but Adley barely spoke. Please feel free to shorten it!

---

“Well whatever wand you will have will be yours.”

Obviously. Adley wanted to roll his eyes, but he restrained himself. And as if it weren't more than apparent either, Euphemia felt the need to clarify that she had her own voice. Adley had only been doing what he'd been bred to do: display good manners in the company of adults. He knew who pulled the strings, but also knew that he could come that much closer to the responsibility himself if he sought to earn those string-pullers' approval.

“I believe the boy was here first, was he not?”

Adley was pleased to hear this. It made Rocio all the more favorable, and he could only childishly hope it angered Effie, even the littlest bit. His eyes found the woman again, and he smiled, if only for a quick second. Though he was often suspicious of adults, he felt a touch less nervous about having this one watch the wand selection process, now that she had seemed put everything-- and everyone-- into perspective. The snake skin holster she desired sounded like something his brother Calix would seek. Something Adley most definitely wouldn't mind inheriting, were he given the chance. Maybe he would even buy something similar one day, when he came back with more galleons and less Effies.

Adley noticed the expression on Euphemia's face before he could even fully take in the newcomer's aura. The disgust etched there in her mouth and eyes was more than enough to place Adley on the opposite team. But it was Effie's chuckle that got to him the most. It was like fingernails on a chalkboard, or the sound of baby unicorns dying. Even if it didn't sound that way in reality, those were the things Adley equated with Effie's voice. Mostly because when Euphemia Grissom-Dolohov laughed, Adley usually had cause to frown. It didn't even matter, for the moment, what the obviously blue-blooded Miss Adair thought of the second little girl.

And then there was the strange girl's apparent scowl at Effie. If he'd thought Rocio might be inclined to favor him, it was infinitely more obvious to Adley what this Irish girl was thinking. She was on his side, right there, from the start.

"Yes," he said at last, turning away from the familiar faces to study the outsider's. It held little of the aristocratic air Adley had come to expect as second nature, but there was also a sort of kindness there that was absent in so many people he knew. It was such a foreign trait, in fact, that it sort of shocked the boy to realize how infrequently he saw it. At eleven, though, Adley wasn't really sure what it was that made this 'Mairead' different-- aside from the very, very obvious things that Euphemia and Rocio had undoubtedly already attacked in the dangerous depths of their own minds. "I'm going to Hogwarts with you."

Ordinarily, Adley would have been cautious to offer a hand, even if he'd been raised to obey the custom. But, whether it was out of spite for Effie, or because he'd never encountered a child quite like this one, he discarded yet another failed wand and extended his fingers to Mairead. "Adley Rothwell."

Drawing his arm back again, Adley chose another box and removed its lid. He peered down at the instrument with more caution this time, thinking it a more possible match than the last one. He looked up and back to Mairead before he managed to test it. He stared. So, she was confused about wands?

...His eyes found Rocio again, almost automatically. He knew what it meant. He knew what Mairead's ignorance meant. He knew the way adults whispered about muggles... passing remarks, little quips that nevertheless resonated. They were largely a mystery, but he knew enough to know how some people felt, and had the inkling that should he ever ask outright about etiquette toward muggles and those wizards they bred, his father would give him a vague answer that would, nevertheless, produce an expression in Adley much like Euphemia's. Still, to ask her whether she was human... that seemed a bit harsh, even in Adley's overly critical estimation. And, as it were, his own parents had been very cautious not to educate Adley one way or the other. The older Rothwell children had been raised during the war, more privy to their parents' sympathies in matters of blood. They promoted an obvious pride in their ancestry, encouraged the boy to interact with Pureblood wizards his own age, but they never discussed these things at length with Adley, either. He was very proud of his name, but he'd been raised in a bubble.

"If I find the right one," he answered at last, now avoiding all of their eyes, but showing no signs of discomfort. It was a weird feeling; Adley worked for himself, almost exclusively so, but he couldn't help wondering what his father would say if the man found his son making cordial conversation with the girl. Would he chuckle, and exchange words with Rocio? Would he subtly drag Adley away? The boy stopped himself from adding 'or if it finds me.' It was what he'd meant to say about the wand. It was the real answer. He lifted the next wand from the box. It wasn't the right spark, but he was getting closer.

"You're here for your own wand, from Ireland?" He inquired quietly. Whatever her manner of speech, the accent was blatantly distinguishable. Waiting for her answer, and hopefully an elaboration, he chose another box. He could have sworn it was warm even before he opened it. He now regretted that they were all watching. He wanted it to be his moment again. He lifted the lid so carefully that he was almost moving in reverse. Adley picked up the wand and held it up to his eyes, about six inches from his face. The heat that rushed through his body was overwhelming and right all at once. The most wonderful but natural feeling he'd ever felt.

The clerk was there, somewhere in the background, bleary to Adley's eyes, which existed only for the wand. He heard a voice compel him to give the thing a swish, a flick, a wave. Anything. He jabbed the air, bringing his small arm downward, and watched a shower of silvery shards fall, coating himself and probably Mairead. He hoped he'd caught Effie off guard, and also hoped he hadn't ruined Rocio's robes, or anything of the sort. But, to his mild surprise and pleasure, the silvery things seemed to disappear almost as quickly as they'd come. Adley glanced over himself carefully, and his gaze finally settled on the wand. His wand.

The clerk approached him out of nowhere and seized the wand. Adley wanted to kill him for a moment, but then he came to his sense and watched the man go about testing it, weighing it, packaging it. "Eleven-and-a-half inches, maple and yew with a phoenix feather core. Fairly inflexible," he informed no one and everyone, as he recorded it to some slip of parchment. Adley had heard that Ollivander remembered every wand he'd sold. Clearly this man needed a little help. Adley wasn't going to forget a single detail of it.

Even though it had taken a few cheerful sentences before Mairead had become aware of the tension, she was, now, painfully aware of it.  Her cheerful grin melted off her face.  The girl hadn't said anything; she didn't need to.  The disgust on her face couldn't have been more obvious if she'd taken a permanent marker and written it across her face.  Of course, actually, for Mairead, that would have been less obvious.  The look of disgust seemed stuck on the girl's face and, still without speaking, the girl chuckled.  Mairead's face flushed bright red and she took a step towards the girl, but she stopped at the sound of the woman's voice.

The woman seemed to be mimicking the girl's ugly expression.  Looks of disgust were hardly a new thing to Mairead; settled people back home regarded them with similar criticism.  Her original meeting with Maggie had taught her that things really weren't that different in the wizarding world. 

During Remembrance Week, how some in the wizarding world viewed muggleborns had been broached on a few occasions.  In the midst of all the new lessons and information, her head had filtered through that information and categorized it as 'irrelevant.'  She was a witch - she knew that.  But, somehow, this world still felt new enough that when someone said "witch" or, more specifically, "muggleborn witch" it wasn't her own image that popped into mind.  She'd faced enough discrimination during her childhood so far as a Traveller.  People took offense with her because of her culture; it hadn't yet dawned on her that people in this world would take offense of her for a whole different reason. 

The woman spoke to her and Mairead's face flushed a deeper red.  Back home, it was customary for people to peg her as a gypsy on sight alone but, things had been different enough in this world that that had yet to occur.  But, Mairead had to assume, it had happened now.  At least, it was familiar territory.  She wasn't thrilled that her best friend, Jarlath, wasn't there to help in their defense, but she was confident she could handle it well enough on her own.

Despite her reddened face, Mairead inhaled deeply, puffing up her chest and, with chin uplifted, replied to the woman's question.  Her jaw was set rigidly and she glared at the girl and the woman in turn.  "I'm a Pavee, cráiteog*!  I'm proud to be from the road.  And, I don't care what ye think." 

The boy spoke.  Mairead looked at him, regarding him cautiously.  He was going to school with her but, as of yet, it wasn't clear whether her first impressions of him were correct.  Was he like these other two?  By the way he dressed and spoke, it seemed likely he was from the other two's side of the train tracks.  He was proper, spoke in a proper manner.  He was here, buying a wand.  He was, by outward appearances, like them.  But, so far, though, the look of disgust was obviously absent from his face and she relaxed slightly.

Mairead smiled at the boy and opened her mouth to ask him any of the myriad of questions that had popped into her head.  Have you seen the place?  Can you believe it?  It's so remarkable!  The armor and food and crazy knights and everything!  Have you tickled the fruit?  But, given the present company, she let her mouth fall shut again without posing any of the questions.    Instead, she took the offered hand (when was the last time she'd shaken someone's hand?).  "Good to meetchya, Adley," she offered. 

Her eyes widened and she watched with unhidden eagerness as Adley picked up one of the seemingly-boring boxes and opened it.  She knew they others probably believed giving the boy space was appropriate but Mairead couldn't resist the temptation to rock forward slightly on the ball of her feet and lift up to peer in the box.  So.  That was one of them.  It seemed so innocent lying there in the box.  A fancy stick.  Had she not seen those things actually do their thing, she'd have lost interest not long after she discovered it probably wouldn't make good firewood.  But, she'd seen Maggie make boxes fly together and Miles make a bottle of tasty drink become much bigger. 

Still oblivious to the possibility the fact that it was her status as a muggleborn that was causing the discomfort, she watched intently as the boy continued to pick up various wands and waggle them around.  It was, in reality, a bit anti-climatic to watch with rapt anticipation as he lifted a wand and have nothing happen.  Blinking, Mairead scowled.  "They aren't doing nothing."  She said.  "Is that what ye mean by not being right?  Is it a dud?  Like ... dead fireworks?  Or - I don't know - me da bought a used card off this bloke once and it blew up like two days later.  It was funny but he was bleedin' mad.  Good thing we were gone or he would have gone looking for the dodger." 

Mairead shifted on her feet slightly, not entirely keen on answering his question in given company.  But, determined not to care what they thought of her, she answered, with just a little too much bravado in her voice.  "Naw.  I mean, I'm from Ireland.  Of course.  But, I'm not here to get one.  I wish I could but me mum's trying to find someone back home who's got some.  Ye know?  Ones that aren't as ... that are cheaper.  I mean.  There's gots to be other Pavee witches and wizards, right?  I can't be the only one.  We're hoping that we can barter something for a wand - we just got a new litter of puppies.  So..."  Her voice trailed off and color flushed her cheeks again.  Pointedly, she kept her gaze on the boy, not daring to look in the direction of the other two.

Again, Mairead watched with intense curiosity as Adley picked up another wand.  He made a few movements but, instead of nothing much happening, a shower of lights erupted overhead.  With a slight squeak, Mairead jumped, raising an arm over her head to protect her if any of the things were to land on her and burn.  "Wow," she breathed.  "Ye can already do that stuff?"  She breathed, watching as the clerk took Adleys wand and did all his clerky things with it.

The fact that Adley did not have the same look of disgust on his face as she did her own Effie grew even more angered with him. How could he of all people want to associate with the likes of this dirty little imp that couldn’t even be called a girl? She was dirty and spoke horridly, there was no way he would willingly wish to befriend or even touch her. Sure this one could be used for benefit but what sort of benefit could she supply other than perhaps giving you some sort of infestation of bugs. She was clearly muggleborn and not even a upper class muggleborn. Effie thought muggleborns were bad but this was far worse. The lingering taste of bile was becoming much more prominent and she would give anything for a good glass of pumpkin juice, or even something mint to suck on.

Effie’s attention was not on Adley but on this thing before her. The adult appeared to feel the same way as her, which only made her better in her books. Effie thought she looked familiar and that was when she realized it was a friend of Dazmond. Of course this woman was good in her books and even more so with that attitude towards this thing that was going to be attending Hogwarts. In Effie’s book a werewolf child would be better than this girl. The more she spoke with that vile dialect the more Effie loathed her very being and felt like she was losing IQ points by listening.

This girl, name already forgotten by Effie, seemed to have no personal boundaries and appeared to be invading on the very personal event of gaining your first wand. Of course the wands did nothing until you put your hands on your wand, the wand meant for you. She was obviously an idiot and how she could even make it into Hogwarts was beyond her. They really were letting just anyone in and she sort of wished she had been allowed to attend Durmstrang because maybe there she could get some credibility if the like of this girl were getting in. Of course Effie supposed being the best at Hogwarts was better than being average at Durmstrang.

As soon as the girl spoke of bartering for a wand Effie could not keep quiet any longer. A loud sharp and degrading laugh escaped her mouth. “Barter for a wand, are you a complete imbecile?” The laughter continued to the point that Effie could barely contain herself. She looked up to Rocio and continued to laugh. “You cannot barter for a wand, well not with a hope in Azkaban of it being a good one. You really are pathetic.” The laughter slowly subduing to an amused chuckle. “The idea of puppies as a form of payment as been the funniest thing I have heard all day.” Of course the desire puke had not fully faded by this amusement if anything it had only grown as the seriousness of the statement began to settle in.

Silver filled the air, which was a sure sign that Adley found his wand. She tried to hide her stunned expression quickly and looked to the girl. “Of course he can, it s a natural ability and a sure sign that he has found his wand. The wand chose the wizard…” she said as if this was completely obvious. She was completely fed up with this girl and wanted her wand polish and to be on her way.

“Excuse me you can help me now. I want some wand polish, the air in here is getting quit dingy and suffocating.” Effie said as she tapped her shoe upon the ground with her arms crossed. The novelty of Adley and this girl had worn thin.

Opie hurried down the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, worry tinting the clicks of her heels with each step. She just couldn't be missing, not yet anyways! Opie had been so attentive to her needs and watched her like a hawk for these last two weeks, making sure to keep up her promise to Mai's mother to not let her get into too much trouble. Sure she had happily allowed the girl to wander the grounds, but Mai had always returned or at least stayed in sight. However, this morning she was no where to be found! At first Opie fear Cassie had experimented on her and had turned her into some sort of mutated monster pet, as she was prone to do, but Cassie swore she hadn't done any illegal experiments since the Hippofold incident. Finally after some prodding, Cassie admitted that Mai had seemed eager to go to Diagon Alley.

Thankfully the Alley was small and not too packed at the moment. Most parents waited until the end of summer to take their children school shopping, so the streets were filled but not packed. At first Opie checked all the places she would have gone had she been the girl. The usual: The bookstore... the crystal ball shop... a couple of apothecaries and of course the shop that sold shrunken heads. She didn't find the girl in any of them, but managed to acquire two shrunken heads (one for Marietta), a new amethyst pendulum, a pound of leeches and a couple divination books along the way. It wasn't until she paused and gave real thought to the personality of the girl that she went to the joke shop. The clerk had seen Mai and directed Opie towards the direction of Ollivanders.

When she arrived at the shop, Opie breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her charge within, speaking candidly to a tall dark haired woman and two younger children. Opie was relieved but didn't know how to feel past that. On one hand, the girl has undermined her authority and disappeared without word into a place that could prove very dangerous to a child such as herself. On the other hand, Opie was impressed that someone so young who couldn't read had found her way through muggle London to Diagon Alley without Magic no less. After some thought, Opie decided to forgive Mai. After all, she was going through a hard time and this was her first offense. With any luck, being understanding would encourage her to be more open and honest with her guardian.

Entering the shop with a serene smile, Opie approached the small group, only to pause when she heard the horrible words of the pompous little girl and the saw the disgusted look the woman was casting upon Mai. Opie might have been oblivious to peoples intentions, and her family might be blood traitors, but the Grimlish family was well known (though not exceptionally well liked) in the pureblood circles and Opie knew right off that Mai was targeted by that type. She couldn't allow this.

Walking up to the quartet, Opie pulled out the head she had purchased for herself and dangled it over Mai's shoulder "There you are... I got you something..." She said cheerfully, ignoring the others. "You should have told me you wanted to go school shopping today... Did you see anything you wanted to try?"

Ro could not help but laugh at the girl’s horrible grammar. She obviously came from a very lower-class background and this was not the type of person Rocio was accustomed to dealing with - well at least not on a friendly basis. This child was like one of her house elves, really. Though that word she used in Rocio’s mind sounded like something it probably did not mean. Pavee, pavear¹ they sounded alik in her mind. Pavear from pavo². “So you are a turkey then? A bird with a teeny little brain?”

It was with great surprise and disappointment that she observed Adley’s actions. A quiet tutting noise left Ro’s mouth as she watched the events taking place, her eyebrow arching as she watched the proceedings. Surely Adley must be joking with his actions, at any minute now he would turn and scorn the girl and her foolish behavior. To think that a pureblood would act like that, it made her sick. She wondered what Adley’s father might think of this. Would he approve of his son being near to that thing that had entered the shop?

To think that Rocio upon entering had favored Adley due to her lack of contact with the Dolohov girl. She was almost disgusted with herself, as though she had been the one touching that grubby little paw covered in dirt. She shuddered at the thought and looked down at Euphemia, whose sneer of disgust matched her own. Surely she would have to treat the younger girl to something once they could escape Ollivander’s. After all, good purebloods were rewarded, and actions like Adley’s were carefully filed away for Rocio’s next meeting with his father.

Rocio would have reacted first but that Euphemia beat her to it. The laugh that came from Euphemia was almost more cruel than Rocio’s which distinctly bore with it years upon years of bitterness at those who were ruling the world. “Euphemia, I suppose we should play nice. She is not pathetic, she’s simply a mudblood. Not worth our time or our effort.” The word slid off her tongue, not at all rusty from lack of use, but perfect just as it had always been, mudblood. How nice to use it once more.

“Of course, if her puppies make good snake treats, I might offer to buy them. I have been looking for a new item to watch my snakes hunt.” Perhaps the little thing would accept the offer, it might be the first money she had ever obtained legally in her life. From the looks of her, Rocio honestly would not doubt that it was. Watching the snakes corner the puppies and hearing their howls of desperation would be something Ro would enjoy more than she could publicly tell.

“Natural, Euphemia? I do believe you mean genetic.” She smirked at Adley. “He is from good pureblood stock, and I do hope that he will not be forgetting that anytime soon.” She could hope at least, though she supposed that if today were to be any sign of it Adley was sure to be a disappointment. A dirty rotten mudblood lover, traitor to all that was sacred in the magical world. At least Euphemis had proven herself, she had shown she had the mettle to stand against these who would infiltrate their world.

The air in the room was tense and things only seemed to be continuing in that direction when another adult entered the fray. A quiet ‘ugh’ escaped Rocio’s mouth accompanied by an eye roll, her sneer staying firmly in place. Of all the people that could have entered - well okay she supposed it was better than that squib that kept her ridiculous shop down the street - it had to be this one. She was so... happy all of the time. It was strange and unsettling. Not to mention the fact that the sheer mention of her family name was enough to make any good pureblood upset.

“Grimlish.” The name came out like an insult, as though she was spitting something dirty out of her mouth right along with it. “Of course you would be in charge of this disgusting excuse for a witch. They do save the worst ones for the blood traitors. This specimen though, honestly I think I have house elves that speak more properly.” She laughed haughtily and looked down at the child, standing next to Euphemia proudly. At the very least they would represent what it was to be a proper pureblood.

It was, however, when the Grimlish woman asked her question that Rocio truly took aim. “Perhaps she should try leaving,” Rocio said icily. “I believe you know the way out the Alley and you can deposit her back on the streets from where she came. We do not need her kind. Nor do we need yours so you can kindly follow.” A flourish of her arm pointed in the direction of the door, hoping that the idea would be heeded. While small in stature, she was certainly courageous and willing to speak her mind about this topic so near and dear to her heart.

---

¹ pavear - literally to turkey around
² pavo - turkey

Adley's vision seemed to become increasingly more keen and simultaneously less trained on anyone in particular while the exchange unfolded between Rocio, Euphemia, and the muggleborn girl. She turned red and muttered a few words that might as well have been the muggle equivalent of witchcraft, because Adley had certainly never heard them, and he liked to think himself well-read for a child his age. He deduced that it was some sort of insult, however, because she'd finished the gibberish with an instance that Rocio's opinions didn't matter to her.

This was the sort of person Adley gravitated toward: someone bold, strong, quicker than the boy to be blunt and unforgiving in speech, especially out of social rank. Adley obviously had no qualms speaking his mind to Effie, but he was a touch more cautious with his behavior in front of the woman; Mairead, however, seemed to have no concept of just how prestigious a wizarding citizen the Adair woman happened to be, or else-- as she'd already implied-- she simply didn't care. Possibly both, if he were looking at the big picture. Adley was the sort of child who liked to think before leaping. He stayed on the sidelines until it was time to win or lose.

He felt the girl looking at him and stared back, though inwardly he was a bit uneasy. It was an awkward situation in general, even for a miniature con artist like Adley. He was allowed to be nervous, wasn't he? He would never admit this to any of them, or even to himself. Mairead's eventual smile made it a little weirder, even, but also easier to keep his gaze focused. Adley wasn't so accustomed to these mixed emotions. He took his time reading scenes, yes, but usually it was less of a challenge. He quite often, more or less, knew what he wanted, or what he wanted to achieve. It came with being raised by equally ambitious people, and having a mother who was like a living doll; she never outsmarted them, or so Adley had come to believe. Trying to learn more about this supposed future classmate while also evading Effie and keeping Rocio's approval was a juggling game he hadn't anticipated.

"Blew up?" He murmured, pausing to look up from the wand he was holding. He'd been on verge of saying 'used?' instead, but had chosen to pursue the other point. He was still pondering her accent even while he concentrated on his destiny. "You can't just have whichever you want," he added after a moment, giving one of the 'duds' an unenthusiastic wave. Ironically, it seemed to be something they all had in common: not having their heart's pick of a wand. It wasn't about finding the one that looked the nicest in your hand. Granted, Adley had been around enough of them recognize that most people's wands seemed to suit the owner's character visually, too. It was often subtle... and sometimes almost hilariously obvious. His father's wand, for instance, long and unbendable, and made of a sleek dark wood, was every bit the wandly embodiment of formidable and charismatic. "It's not dead. This is someone else's wand, not mine."

She was a good conversationalist, it seemed, once she got to talking. But there might have been a hint of something... reservation? He peaked again at Rocio, and then Euphemia. Adley appeared patient while he absorbed the girl's words, but devoted his gaze mostly to the wands, just like before. She wasn't from Ireland. But she was. Her mother was going to barter for a wand. Dogs? Did they sell dogs? What was a Pavee? It annoyed him that he didn't know. He wanted to ask her to repeat herself, but he dared not, least of all because Miss Adair was still watching. He tallied it up to her quirky brand of Irishness. That had to be why he couldn't understand. Adley was thoroughly upper crust English in every way imaginable. "If your wand doesn't suit you?" He voiced quietly. She hardly needed to hear it, particularly given each of the other females' two sickles worth of opinions on the matter. But it had to be a concern; maybe she didn't realize. It was sort of comforting to meet someone so oblivious; she didn't threaten him in the same way Effie did. But it was preposterous, too. Not knowing anything... not even the most basic aspects of Wizarding life. Adley had never spoken more than five words to anyone like her, and here he was, carrying on a discourse with his future classmate. He noticed she wasn't carrying any shopping bags. "Our list of schoolbooks is long, too."

He felt a surge of pride at being able to produce the shower of sparks; it wasn't anything he could control completely, but it was better than no magic at all. And its explosive, firework-like effect made Adley feel powerful. Even Euphemia seemed to acknowledge that his rightful wand had found him. Mairead seemed more impressed. Rocio mentioned his family, and he straightened his shoulders a bit. A very, very faint smile played at Adley's lips, which he tried in turn to purse. "Of course I won't..." He promised the woman. He would be going home to them, would he not? His eyes remained lazy but piercing, like a cat's, while he waited for the packaged treasure to be handed to him. The man asked for the appropriate number of galleons, and Adley handed it over without blinking. He'd already seen the prices in the window, and knew he wasn't being conned. He would have paid tenfold to have his wand, though. He didn't even mind that Effie had begun to demand the clerk's attention again.

When the Grimlish woman appeared, Adley was again confronted with a vaguely familiar face. He knew her much less than he knew the Dolohov girl, and saw her less frequently than he saw Rocio, but her family was noteworthy enough for Adley to have seen her on more than one occasion, and to have heard her called 'The Grimlish Woman'. There was more than one, too, he knew, but he wasn't sure which one this was. He also had little idea how his father felt about her, but Rocio's reaction gave him an inkling. The Rothwells had been rarely hostile toward other wizarding families in Adley's short life-- or in his presence, anyway. Extreme caution was as important now as ever. The fact that he hadn't seen her at many a family gatherings, though, was also a sign of a what his father might say.

Had they all mistaken a wayward Grimlish for a muggleborn? Had Mairead been locked in a closet all her life, and was that why she didn't know basic wandlore or possess a more readily familiar accent like the eccentric woman's? Adley did not recoil at the head being bounced over Mairead's shoulder; he'd seen similar things, and had always wanted one himself. "Are you her daughter?" He asked the girl, looking carefully from Mairead to the woman. "Is she your mother?" He forgot, for the moment, to greet Madam Grimlish. It was all too foggy, and Adley was a highly suspicious child. Rocio seemed less inclined to jump to any such conclusion, and instead took it upon herself to berate the woman for taking charge of the muggleborn girl.

For the sake of whatever civil behavior she could muster, Mairead tried to keep her attention firmly directed at the boy.  If she turned her head in any other direction, she saw nothing but the all too familiar scowls of disgust.  The shopkeeper now, it seemed, was even looking at her with a trace of wary pity in his face.  The boy did seem nervous and uneasy but, given the expressions the others around them wore, it was an improvement. 

Unfortunately, before Adley could speak, the tall dark woman's voice broke through.  Mairead's face flushed a deeper red as she pivoted towards the woman.  She wasn't really sure how turkeys had anything to do with this.  She'd been called a lot of names over the years - knacker, pikey and far worse, but never a turkey.  However, the woman's tone made it blatantly clear that the word wasn't being used in an affectionate manner.  "Just 'cause I haven't been to school doesn't mean I have a small brain!" she snapped back, her angry mind making quick assumptions about what they were commenting on.  With a little touch a support, a new, yet familiar voice, spoke up in the back of her mind and, as it was now partnered with a secret serving of shepherd's pie, it offered a bit of comfort as well.  "And, I know all the things people don't know until after school already!" she said, proudly, her chest puffed up.

Mairead took another deep breath and glowered up at the woman.  Was she not listening on purpose?  Turkey.  Muddy blood something or other.  "No!" She said, with frustration and impatience.  Normally, she wouldn't have bothered repeating it to these people but, with a glance towards Adley, it was clear the boy was just as clueless as them.  Only, not nearly as rudely so.  And, she wasn't ashamed.  She was proud to be who she was.  "I'm Pavee!.  Don't ye know?  Tinker?  Traveller?  Gypsy.  I'm not a turkey and I'm not ... whatever ye called it." 

Hoping the issue had been resolved enough to return to civil conversation with the only one capable of it in the room, Mairead turned back to Adley.  Explosions seemed a worthwhile topic to keep her distracted from the unpleasant company.  Though distracted, her voice was terse, still holding some of the frustration from the given company.  "Yeah.  The engine just went boom.  The dodger'd told me da that the car ran really good.  But, he was lying.  Obviously." 

Mairead looked curiously at the wand.  "Why don't they just give it to the person it belongs to.  Ye know?  Wouldn't that make it easier?"  That's how they would have done it.  If a horse seemed to really, truly, belong to someone else, they would try to match them up.  And, they didn't even have magic.

The boy looked awkwardly at their given company and Mairead chanced a look over her shoulder at them.  For the first time, she got the impression that the three of them knew each other somehow.  She looked questioningly at Adley.  She leaned in towards Adley and, in a whisper, asked him, "do ye know those béadánaí*?"  She leaned back again and her eyes brightened as the subject of the school list came up.  "Yea, I know!  I saw it.  I ca- I mean, I haven't read it, yet.  But, the witch I'm staying with read it to me a couple times.  It sounds exciting."  She'd tried her best to memorize the list but many of the things on it were books - which didn't hold her attention long enough - and many of them were unfamiliar, foreign words.  Calldowns and the like.

But, the other girl spoke up again and, once more, and the color flooded Mairead's face again.  She didn't know what an imbecile was but she was certain it wasn't, again, a compliment.  And, the girl's laughter grated at her ears.  "I'm not pathetic!" she insisted, loudly, her fists clenched by her side, shaking slightly.  "Ye ... feed to ...  They're good puppies!  Lurchers!  Ye can't feed - that's horrid!  And ... and if me mum and da have to trade a horse for it ..."  Mairead was grappling knew she wasn't making it better and her mouth flew shut.  "It's not funny."  Her anger spiked more by the girl's insinuation that Mairead was effecting the air quality. 

Still shaking slightly, Mairead's tunnel vision made her only partly aware of Ophelia's arrival until the bodyless, shrunken head suddenly appeared in her field of vision.  She jumped and gave out a small squeak in surprise, scrambling back a few steps.  She stared at the head for a few breaths, her mind reeling to catch up, her nerves still frayed. 

I believe you know the way out the Alley and you can deposit her back on the streets from where she came. We do not need her kind.

Mairead whirled away from the Opie, turning back towards the other girl and woman.  She wasn't foolish enough to try to do anything against the woman.  Even blinded with anger some semblance of self-preservation still remained.  Her lack of a wand did nothing to make her hesitate.  She'd spent years picking fights with the rich kids on the street and she'd spent enough time scrapping with the boys back home that she knew better than to hesitate or hold back.  Without a second though, she rushed the other girl.  With all her strength, she hurled one fist at the girl's face before throwing the other at her stomach.

béadánaí - prat, slandered

A turkey, Effie wished the girl was a turkey because that way she could be easily disposed of and perhaps even served up to be a delicious turkey dinner. Of course this child was not a turkey and therefore could not be so easily disposed of or gotten rid of. Effie was a bit glum at the fact this girl was going to be a bother to her all year and was not so easily gotten rid of as a turkey. A slight chuckle left her though due to Rocio’s actions towards the girl. They were the very emotions and expressions she was sure that Daz would give and the ones she expected Adley to supply the girl. Adley was going so far as to actually converse with the girl, which was down right disgusting. “I think he forgot what stock he was from the moment he touched her hand.” She spoke up looking at Rocio with a sigh and shook her head.

Euphemia turned to the girl she would have to come up with a good name to refer to her as, perhaps Turkey would work. “You are exactly what she called you. You are a mudblood. You are filth of the muggle world.” Euphemia rolled her eyes, to think the girl thought she wasn’t a mudblood it was definitely a word she would have to get used too. If Euphemia had her say in this girls popularity at school she would definitely make this fact known. She would keep her eye on her purely for information and research of the likes of people she wouldn’t want to associate with. The fact Adley wanted to associate with her made him even more of an enemy.

“You cannot barter for a wand, you need money!” Euphemia said as she reached into her bag and pulled out her bag that jingled with the sound of many coins. “Money is what is used and I was sure it was used in the muggle world…” Effie paused for a second. “Which must mean you are of lower class even there.” Her nose wrinkled at the thought before turning her attention towards the clerk. She handed over some coin for the pot of wand polish, since her reason for being in this confined location with the turkey was done and gave good cause to leave.

She was turning to get out of the location when the Turkey rushed her. She barely had much of a chance to react before contact was made. A scream left Effie, not because she was hit and things might bruise but because this disgusting dirty girl was contaminating her clothing. “Get away from me.” She screamed in anger her hands moving in a slapping manner against the girl. “You filthy disgusting creature.” She was inclined to send her the bill for her clothing but feared getting some puppies in payment, which was even more repulsive of any idea than dealing with her soiled clothing. Effie was on the ground making her even more frustrated and not because the girl had hit her, which was the cause for the searing pain in her cheek. The blow to her stomach was making that cause of nausea even worse. She  turned and spat at the turkey girl not going to stoop to her pathetic use of fists, if she had her wand the girl would be in pieces by now…or so Effie would like to wish.