Quidditch was, by far, Mairead's favorite thing to do at Hogwarts.  If it weren't for the fast-paced game, Mairead might have given up on this whole magical education thing before she'd finished second year.  But, likely a byproduct of upbringing, exploring the castle and grounds easily held the title of 'second favorite thing to do.'  Most probably assumed she spent her free time exploring the castle in the hope of finding trouble but it was usually the other way around.  Mairead explored the castle to satisfy that deep-seated need to keep moving.  She just happened to be good at finding trouble along the way. 

She'd realized during her first year that the castle was vast - much larger than the obviously utilized areas accounted for.  There were only thirteen classes offered at the school, which required only thirteen classrooms.  Even when you factored in the number of students and staff housed in the building, there was plenty of underutilized space left over.  Which meant lots of nooks and crannies for storing forgotten things.  The dungeons, especially, were a treasure trove of dark corners and forgotten relics. 

Once again, Mairead was diligently avoiding another evening of homework by strolling down the long dungeon corridors, trying every doorknob she past and casting the frequent unlocking charm in the hopes of gaining entry to an as-of-yet unexplored room or corridor.  So far, the first seven had been unsuccessful.  Curfew was quickly approaching and Mairead was determined to find a new area before the prefects started their nightly prowls.

Number 8 proved to be lucky.  With a quietly murmured "Alohomora, the dark, metal latch clicked and creaked and the door slid.  Fantastic!  Mairead slipped through the doorway and peered through the dusty shadows at rows of dusty desks and another door on the far side of the room.  Perhaps, an old storage closet or even the entrance to currently-unused staff quarters.  Either had the potential to be full of fascinating tidbits.  She started to cross the classroom towards the door when footsteps behind her made her quickly turn.  All she could distinguish in the low light were those ruddy green-lined school robes. 

"Bloody 'ell!"  Slytherins.  So annoying.  "What do ye want, git?  I'm not causin' any trouble so why not bugger off?" 

Of all the qualities one might come up with when they thought of Jonah, adventuresome was not the first. Probably not even on the list. Not that the fifth-year didn't enjoy a good exploration every now and then, it just wasn't high on his list of priorities. All the same, Jonah had set aside his books for the night and decided to take a wander through the dungeons, thinking about OWLs and what he wanted to do with his life. He had no idea.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps, a click, and a creaking door. Jonah didn't go looking for trouble, but if trouble presented itself... He followed the sounds down the corridor, pushing open a door left ajar. He couldn't see in the gloom of the dungeons who was there, but they sounded defensive.

"What do ye want, git? I'm not causin' any trouble so why not bugger off?"

Jonah withdrew his wand and muttered, "Lumos maximus." Narrowing his eyes against the bright light, he addressed the intruder, a Gryffindor according to her robes. Wait, what? Why was a Gryffindor wandering the dungeons so close to curfew?

"Now, is that any way to talk to someone? No need to be rude, honestly. And so quick to defend yourself? Someone might think you were hiding something. Could get you in a lot of trouble over nothing. Wouldn't want that."

Mairead blinked in the glare of the bright light and shielded her eyes with her wand arm.  Thanks to the bright glare of the lad’s wand, Mairead could now only make out the Slytherin’s silhouette.  The only tools she could use to assess the other student were the details she remembered from when the newcomer had been illuminated by the corridor and his general demeanor and tone.
 
So far, he didn’t seem too intimidating, despite being a Slytherin.
 
“I’m not tryin’ t’ hide nothing.  I’m looking for stuff that might be hidden.  Important difference.”  This intruder was cramping her style; such a Slytherin thing to do.  She was eager to get back to the task at hand.  This bloke might not be a prefect but in short order the prefects would start trolling the dungeons.  She either needed to make her way back up to Gryffindor tower or safely beyond the door before they started their nightly constitutionals.
 
“Now, is there somethin’ I can help ye with?  Or, are ye just goin’ mudblood hunting?” 

Jonah was prepared to play nice. He wasn't out looking for a fight, just something to do. So he half-grinned at the girl's remark about the difference between hiding and finding. "Fair enough, but that still doesn't explain what you're doing here. You ought to be careful, I've heard there are snakes down in these dungeons."

Jonah was prepared to play nice, but it wasn't his fault if she wanted a fight.

He lost all humor at her next comment, practically hissing as she accused him of hunting for muggle-borns. "Now listen," he growled, taking a step forward as his grip tightened around his wand, "You come down here acting all suspicious, and now you're throwing slurs around? I should hex you. You assume, what, because I'm a Slytherin? You don't know anything, you have no place accusing anyone." By this point his voice had dropped dangerously low, anger in every syllable.

This bloke sure was dense.  How had he not figured out what she was up to?  “I’m findin’ stuff t’ find.”  Mairead said slowly, enunciating each word carefully as if it should have been obvious.  “And, good stuff t’ find tends t’ be in places with dark corners.  There’s lots o’ dark corners down here.”  Poking around in the dark, dank corners of the dungeons was simply much more exciting than up in the above corridors.
 
“I’m not afraid of snakes,” Mairead added, turning back to the door across the classroom.  Despite his nosiness, it didn’t seem this fellow was intending on stopping her and Mairead wasn’t going to volunteer to do so.  “I can usually get them to do what I want.”  It was weird, but it was true.  She had taken a few house snakes as pets over the years and even a strange serpenty creature the year of the Tetrawizard tournament.
 
But, Mairead promptly turned back to the Slytherin when he seemed to take offense at her use of mudblood.  “I come here minding me own business.  You came in here, poking yer nose in what doesn’t involve you.  You decided I was suspicious-like.  And, slurs are only slurs if ye let them be.”  Mairead’s temper was quickly elevating to match that of the Slytherin’s.  But, as usual, her hands balled up into fists and her wand remained in her pocket, forgotten.
 
“Ye know, I didn’t even know that word before you Slytherins started slingin’ it at me.  Before I even knew what it meant.  And, you were the only ones that felt it was yer right t'use it.  Well, I took the word back!”  Mairead wrinkled her nose in a smirk and thumped her chest with her fist.  “It’s not a slur to me; it’s a badge of honor.  I’m a Mudblood and proud of it!”

Jonah pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. It was fairly obvious what the girl was doing, he was trying to ask why. Of course, after the mudblood comment he found he didn't really care why she was poking around in the dungeons so close to curfew; he just wanted her to leave. Possibly after being hexed. Or punched, but she looked like she could hit harder than him.

"Minding your own business? How is sticking your nose into dark corners that don't concern you 'minding your own business'?" Jonah started - he hoped addressing the least important part of her statement first would give him time to get his words in order for the real issue. "Not that you'd know this, since you seem to have decided that we're all pureblood bigots, but some of us Slytherins happen to be muggleborn too. And some of us Slytherins have been called mudblood too. I'm a muggleborn and I've had to prove I belong here, in this house, at this school. Think about that before you start accusing strangers of bigotry."

By this point, Jonah's hands were balled into fists, his wand at the ready. His voice had taken on a certain snarl, despite its low volume, and he felt like every muscle was tensed as if ready to fight. He took a few deep breaths through his nose before adding, "But please, tell me more about how I'm supposed to be proud of my heritage."

Despite the enjoyable side effect of causing annoyance, Mairead hadn't offered a more precise explanation largely because she didn't have one.  She was exploring this room because the door had opened.  She was trying to get through the other door because it was there.  There was absolutely no other rhyme or reason to her snooping.  If she found something interesting, great, but she was searching for searching's sake. 

She still didn't understand why he cared.  They weren't his corners.  He was no more minding his own business than she was.  But, reason and logic were no longer a part of this discussion.  Tempers were flaring too much for that. 

"You're muggleborn?  I thought they didn't allow them."  Wasn't that Salazar Slythern's whole thing?  Which, begged the question why this lad got an exception.  Of course, belonging to a minority didn't always guarantee someone wasn't after their own group.  But, it was unlikely they'd put up the fuss that this kid was. 

Having grown up among a scrappy group of boys, Mairead had developed the keen ability of turning on an argument and turning it back off without a second thought.  Without skipping a beat, Mairead's fists unclenched.  "I'm not gonna apologize for callin' meself a mudblood.  Ye can get butthurt over the word, if ye want.  They can't offend us with the word unless we agree to be hurt by it.  That's what my da taught me.  Now, you gonna hit me for sayin' it or can I see what's behind the door?" 

"You're muggleborn? I thought they didn't allow them."

Jonah frowned. The fight seemed to be gone from the girl's manner, but he was still in an arguing frame of mind. "Once upon a time, maybe, but times change. I'm a Slytherin because a talking hat said I belonged here, muggleborn or no. Besides," he added with a sarcastic grin, "aren't we supposed to be living in a post-hypocrisy era or something?" He hated when people acted like blood purism was a thing of the past.

As he spoke, he felt his anger draining away, leaving him with the tail-end of an adrenaline rush. As rational thought returned, he supposed he couldn't blame her for using the word about herself. Still, it rubbed him the wrong way to hear it, and he had to stop himself from cringing a little when she used it again. "Reclaim it if you like, I suppose. I'm not going to stop you, but -" he paused, miming looking at a wristwatch, "- if the prefects come by, I'm not warning you."

To be honest, he was a little curious as to what was behind the door - if she was so intent on getting it, it must be something interesting, right?

Mairead eyed the Slytherin skeptically as he went on about the sorting hat and things being different.  The Gryffindor had a hard time believing things had changed that much; she was confident she hadn't seen any evidence of it.  Of course, a more reasonable young witch might have recognized that she lacked a frame of reference; neither did she have experience with the way things were nor did she really know anyone that could share stories with her.  Deaglan was the only one and he was old.
 
But, Mairead wasn't the most reasonable of young witches. 
 
“Besides, aren't we supposed to be living in a post-hypocrisy era or something?"
 
Confusion flickered across the Gryffindor’s face, followed be a scowl of frustration.  She’d made considerable progress in her education since the completely illiterate first year that had first entered the castle, but she was still behind her classmates in many areas.  Especially when it came to more complicated concepts like ‘post-hypocrisy era’.  “I don’t know,” she admitted with a scowl, without clarifying that she was uncertain about the question, not the answer.
 
To cover herself, she quickly offered: “All I know is there’r some rat bastards in that house.  But, ye shouldn’t have to prove ye belong.  If the hat sorted ye there, it’s not up to you to prove.”  She wanted to say ‘just don’t worry about it,’ but despite her usual lack of introspection she was aware she couldn’t imagine having to live in that house.
 
She probably wouldn’t have gotten past her first year.  Of course, that had as much to do with being Pavee as with being muggleborn.  But, a fellow mudblood who’d survived Slytherin house definitely earned from props from her.  Not that she was going to voice that.
 
“I don’t need ye t’warn me.  If I see ye scurrying, I’ll assume someone’s coming.”  Mairead turned back to the task at hand; the older boy could stay or go, as long he didn’t keep trying to interfere.  And, as long as he understood she had first dibs on whatever was in that room.  “Close that door to the corridor behind ye.  It’ll keep people from seein’ us that just happen by.”
 
She approached the door tried it; unsurprisingly, like the outer door, it was locked.  But, another quick unlocking charm and she stepped inside, holding the door behind her as an invitation for the older boy to follow.  She lit her own wand and let the light flood what looked like an old sitting room.  A fireplace was built into the far wall, the hearth stones long cold.  A matching set of bookcases and glass-fronted cabinets framed the fireplace.  A large throw rug covered the floor; dusty but protected from fading by the lack of natural light.  A couch and a pair of overstuffed lounge chairs were arranged around an ornate coffee table.
 
“Nice,” Mairead said as she hoped over the back of the couch and landed on it in a puff of dust.  “Not a bad find, eh?”  She looked over the back of the couch at the Slytherin.  “You okay if I start stickin’ me nose in some dusty corners in a few?”  Not that she was in a big hurry; the sofa was comfortable.

Jonah saw the confusion on the Gryffindor's face as she tried to process his question. He kept himself from smirking - didn't want to set her off again - and explained, "There are some people who act like after the wars, blood purism disappeared. The big bad was defeated and nobody ever hated anyone again. It's ridiculous."

"Ye shouldn't have to prove ye belong."

Jonah smiled at that, a more sincere smile than usual. "Thanks," he said, "And there are some rat bastards in every house if you go looking for them. I imagine you never had to worry about being accepted in Gryffindor?" He didn't know the girl at all, didn't even know her name, but he had already witnessed her fiery temper, strong convictions, and typical Gryffindor inquisitiveness. She seemed to him like a shoe-in for the house of lions.

As she set off across the room, Jonah closed the door to the corridor. She was right, though he wouldn't say it aloud - if she got caught out after curfew, he would too. He would have a better excuse than her for being here, but depending on the prefect, that wouldn't necessarily matter. Besides, Slytherin was currently winning at House Points by a small margin, and while he didn't particularly care about such things, he didn't want to be the one to lose his house's lead.

Peering around the girl, Jonah's eyebrows raised in surprise. What he had expected to be an old supply closet turned out to be something far more interesting, an already-furnished hidey hole abandoned long ago. "Good find," he offered, extinguishing his wand and seating himself in one of the armchairs, resisting the urge to sneeze at all the dust. He wasn't sure why, but something about this girl appealed to him, even though they'd gotten off on the wrong foot.

"You okay if I start stickin' me nose in some dusty corners in a few?"

He grinned wryly at her. "Go ahead, I suppose I've no reason to stop you," he conceded, leaning back in his seat. With a little cleaning up, the space could prove really quite useful, he thought to himself; despite his initial manner, he was glad the girl had found it.

The Gryffindor lay on the sofa for a few glorious moments, bathing in the satisfaction of the ‘good find.’  The Slytherin had extinguished his wand, causing the shadows in the room to lengthen and sharpen from the now solitary source of light.  “Wonder what the acoustics are like in here,” Mairead mused aloud as she surveyed the room.  The castle’s overall design was a fairly mixed bag when it came to supporting musical tone; the prevalence of arched, cathedral-like ceilings were fantastic for building and amplifying sound but the hard stone had a tendency to reflect tones, making them muddy and congealed.  In the low light, it was hard to discern the room’s structure.
 
“So,… post hip- that means after the war?” Mairead asked as she pushed herself to her feet.  “Well, anyone who thinks nobody hates anyone anymore is an idiot.  When I first got t'London, they were calling me a 'filthy disgusting creature' that needed t'be 'deposited back on the streets I came from."[1].  Mairead shrugged, dismissively.  "People don't just become nice 'cause they lost the fight.  They just become more fake." 

She crossed the room to the stone mantel above the fireplace where a few nubs of candles were still stuck in their holders.  The light from her wand went out, plunging the room into complete darkness.  A moment later, the candle flared to life.  Mairead wiggled the candle free and started moving slowly about the room, initially lighting every remaining bit of candle she came across. 

"Most of the Gryffindor's are alright, I guess.  Not that I care if they all accept me.  I'm Pavee, you know?  Traveller.  People don't exactly roll out the welcome mats when we come into town with our caravans.  You get used to it."  In reality, Gryffindor had been quite accepting from the very beginning; it had just taken Mairead time to trust the acceptance. 

After completely circling the room, Mairead had managed to locate a dozen or so candles to light.  She returned to the mantel, replaced the original candle before plopping back down on the sofa.  "Ye plannin' on telling anyone about this place?" she asked, scowling across the room at the Slytherin. 

1.	You Who Quote the Legends

Jonah watched the girl on her sofa, blinking owlishly in the dim light. She seemed somehow at ease and guarded at the same time, as if she wanted to relax but couldn't quite let herself. He wondered how much his presence had to do with that.

"Wonder what the acoustics are like in here."

Jonah raised an eyebrow in interest. Not many people would jump to wondering about that so quickly. "D'you do music?" he asked, hazarding a guess as to why she might care about the acoustics. He didn't ask whether the vile comments she'd gotten were because she was a muggleborn or Irish, though he wondered. He made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a snort, nodding in agreement with her comment about changing behaviors. "Don't I know it," he muttered, grinning wryly.

He nodded again at her assessment of her housemates - he hadn't known she was Pavee but it certainly explained her attitude toward bigotry. Must've been rough growing up like that, he thought, though she'd probably say it was only rough until you get used to it, or something. Jonah slouched back in his armchair, swiveling to watch the girl make her way around the room. The soft glow of candle-light felt somehow comforting, made the room feel more lived-in. If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine a time before all the dust and cobwebs, a fire still lit in the hearth and laughter exchanged between friends. Why had this room been abandoned?

He opened his eyes when she spoke again. "What, and spoil the fun? No, I'm not going to tell anyone. Why, are you?"

Mairead shifted and squirmed on the couch, wriggling herself back into the corner without going through the trouble of standing back up.  Once comfortable, she looked up over her head and began giving the room a thorough look.  It was a peculiar little space.  Perhaps an old professor's office or maybe it had been used by one of the other schools during that tetrawizard tournament.  For all they knew, it could have been an old store room and some other group of students had somehow brought the furniture in.  Knowing how much of the rest of the castle was filled with odd nooks and hidden spaces, it was possible there was more to this space: a hidden door behind the bookshelf or carved into the stone wall. 

Now, if they could only find a way to sneak some firewood into this room, the space could be quite cozy. 

"I play the flute.  A little fiddle an' singin' as well.  But, mostly flute.  Ye can get away with playin' in the common room for a little bit.  But, not as much as I'd like."  The room appeared to be a mixture of the typical Hogwarts stone with some wooden paneling, perhaps in an effort to chase off the chill. 

The Gryffindor shook her head.  "Naw.  People tend t'snitch.  Soon as someone important finds out, they'll lock it better or somehow chase us away.  We should make a pact."  She pointed across the dusty ornate coffee table at the Slytherin.  "Neither of us tells anyone else without the other's okay."  This would be the perfect place to skip class. 

Once again, Mairead popped up on her feet and crossed over towards the glass-fronted cabinet on the right side of the fireplace.  The glass was dusty and smudged, making it impossible to discern more than the shadow of the furniture's contents.  "Shame ye don't actually have a snake with you.  They make bloody good scouts," she offered as she gave the latch a tug.  The latch held tight, either from magic or rust or simple disuse.  "Ye happen to have anything on ye?  Quill?  Pen?" 

Jonah watched the girl wiggle around on the couch, somehow reminded of his cat Malka and the way she'd turn round a few times before settling in for a nap.

"I play the flute... Ye can get away with playin' in the common room for a little bit. But, not as much as I'd like."

"If you wanted to come here to practice, I wouldn't turn you in." Jonah felt like he was extending an olive branch, an offer of tentative friendship, even. And she seemed to be on a similar wavelength, suggesting they make an alliance of sorts. He nodded with all the solemnity the situation seemed to demand.

"On one condition - I want to know your name," he said, half-smiling. He felt no need to play games or twist words around with this girl; she was offering a straightforward agreement and he was prepared to accept it.

Jonah searched in his pockets at the girl's request, discovering a quill he had tucked away from his earlier studying. Crossing the room, he handed it to her, using the hem of his sleeve to try and wipe some of the grime from the cabinet doors. The shadows within got a little clearer, but between the remaining dust and the lighting he was still unable to make out what they were. Then her words set in.

"Wait, you use snakes as scouts?"

Mairead cast Jonah a glance, grinning with amusement at his apparent noble gesture.  "O'course ye wouldn't turn me in," she quipped back, in a matter of fact tone.  "You'd end up givin' away this place in the process and, as ye said, where's the fun in that?"  That being said, she was looking forward to hearing what the sound would be like in this room. 

"Do ye know any charms to make this room sound proof?" she asked, taking the offered quill.  It wasn't until he'd posed his stipulations that Mairead realized that she didn't know the Slytherin's name.  He, perhaps, made a good point.  "If someone finds out, guess we need to know who t' hunt down, right?"  Mairead glanced up at the Slytherin before turning back to the stubborn latch. Licking her lips, she used the corner of the quill nib to pick the latch off of its finding. 

"Name's Mairead.  Me friends back home call me Maisie.  You?" She countered just as the latch clicked free.  Creaking softly, the cabinet doors fell open. 

"Wait, you use snakes as scouts?"

Mairead shrugged and nodded.  "Like I said, I can make em do what I want," Mairead repeated.  For someone who was so curious about what she had been doing a few moments ago, he sure hadn't been paying attention.  "Little garden snakes are best for it.  They can get into everywhere.  Bribe em with a few bits of food and they'll case out corridors or locked rooms and let ye know what's there."