(2:43 pm)

Quite regularly, passerbys had cast curious glances at the small girl sitting in the dirt, her back against the storefront as they made their way down the street.  Mairead had been sitting there, quite oblivious to the dirt getting ground into her skirt or the questioning glances.  She was munching on the crumbled dregs at the bottom of a bag of salt and vinegar crisps as she watched the wand store, waiting for the right opportunity to slip inside. 

How long it would take for the right moment to arrive, Mairead wasn't exactly sure but she was hoping it'd come soon since, as she'd reached the bottom of the bag of crisps, she was bound to get restless. 

Between her parents and Opie, they'd managed to locate an Irish Pavee wandmaker and, in exchange for one of their foals (and, of course, the agreement that Mairead would of course promote that Keenan wand was being used at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry), he'd agreed to come to let Mairead select one of his wands.  And, on Sean Keenan's insistence, Ollivanders had agreed to allow Mairead back in the store so that she could try wands in a relatively controlled environment. 

In the interest of making sure Mairead actually got her wand without being kicked out again, she was waiting for the shop to be empty of other customers before going inside. 

She tipped her head back and poured the last of the crisp crumbs into her mouth.  This was, officially, getting boring.  That girl inside the shop needed to get moving and find her wand so she and her father could leave.  And no ... no ... he couldn't go in.  Mairead glowered as another first-year looking kid came strolling down the street.  Now that summer was fully underway it seemed Ollivanders was busier than it was before.  At first she didn't recognize the boy and called across to him.  "I'm bloody next," as if it should be clear the line for Ollivanders was forming outside, across the street.  "I been waiting hours." 

Adley was in a bad mood. He'd been made to spend an entire afternoon writing a letter to an aunt in St. Mungo's, who was even less aware than his mother had been at the height of her 'incapacities', or the fever, as most of the Rothwells called. He'd had to write three times over, despite the perfect hand and respectable grammar (for an eleven-year-old, anyway). His tutor had been testing his patience lately. He guessed it was because his father was out of town and his mother was in another of her less-than-sociable states, having chosen to spend most of her time in the garden while Adley was locked upstairs with a bottle of ink and blank, loose sheets of parchment that were nothing as good as the trusty, charmed journal his brother had given him. They could be cruel, the tutors, when they thought no one was watching. And like many adults, they thought Adley to be quiet and easily pushed around. Only one of these was true, and only when he wished it to be.

Ellory had saved him. She was the oldest, the one he knew least, and arguably the one least inclined to be gentle with him. But she'd pulled him away from the tutor's clutches, and old bat could only frown, just barely, as the child shot a subtle smirk and floated to the bathroom to scrub his hands and face before grabbing a summer cloak (unnecessary), and being shuffled into the fireplace. She'd had business to do at the apothecary, and had insisted that Adley pick up the last of his things then and there; she was a touchy woman when she wanted to be, Ellory, and she wanted to make sure that the last of the Rothwell brood left a good impression on Hogwarts, particularly now that news of new (old) blood was taking charge. The ingredients he'd been waiting on when Martine had brought him to Diagon Alley a few weeks ago were ready now, and Ellory spent ages checking over them, testing them with her eyes and fingers, weighing them. Then she'd dragged him to the selection of scales and cauldrons, tempted to replace the ones he'd just bought. She was a bit obsessive at times, Ellory.

When the exchanges were complete, she gave him a generous handful of sickles and shooed him into the street, with a warning to be mindful of the time. With his sister now talking 'business' with the shopkeeper, Adley trudged down the hot, crowded street, his cloak folded and shoved into the handsome leather bag his father had given him to take to Hogwarts. He'd been carrying it around all week, stuffed with various, seemingly useless possessions-- wizarding pirate novels, a Remembrall with an impressive crack down one side, disappearing ink, his journal, a misleading box of Weasley sweets, and a few old pendants fished from the neglected box on his mother's vanity. His wand, of course, was in his trousers pocket, where it belonged.

He heard the voice, familiar in its sheer out-of-place-ness, before he saw the face. Head snapping in that direction as his small knees buckled into a halt, Adley spotted her. Mairead.

Dodging through the traffic of oncoming people, as if they didn't exist at all, Adley roamed to her side of the street, looking down at the girl, who was sitting in dirt with a bag of something strong and greasy and probably much more delightful than his own lunch had been. "What?" He asked at least, knitting his brows ever so slightly as he stared. It was easier to study her now, here in front of Ollivander's, than it had been weeks ago inside of the same shop, with the watchful eyes of women who had already sized her up and tossed her out. In retrospect, Adley thought it was a foolish thing to dismiss someone so quickly, though he was often in the habit of doing it himself, tending to write off many people in black and white terms, as often as spent too much time pondering them. She was a bold one, that much was certain. She used her mouth and her fists. She'd done a number on Effie. "Next at what?" He demanded to know, though not in quite as harsh a tone he would have used toward, say, Eirene. He was more curious than annoyed. "You don't even know where I'm going."

His icy gaze flicked to the door of the wand shop, and back to Mairead again. She hadn't written to him but he hated second-guessing his actions. It hadn't been foolish to give her his address. Perhaps she just didn't have an owl in Ireland. "Have you got your wand yet? Did the Grimlish woman take you?" He wanted to know what it was like, the core, the wood, the size. He'd been occupied with the make of wands since his own had discovered him. He was partial to it, of course. It was even better than his father's. He could just feel it.

Her point made, Mairead had turned her attention to peering at the bottom of the bag of crisps just to ensure no morsels of salty, sour crunch had managed to escape the great tumble into her mouth.  But, aside from the shimmering gleam of grease on the inside of the bag, it was empty.  With a satisfied sigh, she crumpled the bag, only to find that same first-year-looking boy still standing there.  Had he not gotten the picture. 

"Yo!  Prat!  Did ye not hear? I said I was ... oh!  It's you," she said, as recognition dawned.  He had been there during her first ill-fated trip into Ollivander's.  While he'd shared that almost cliche arrogant look of clothing and financial superiority that the others had, he hadn't shared their obvious disdain for her.  Though, there was an obvious coldness to his expression now - perhaps that little show of niceness in the shop had been for those other people's benefits.  He'd managed, amidst all the harsh words tossed that day, to exchange pleasantries while getting his wand.  Hey!  That meant, he already had his wand!  How unfair.

Quickly, she pushed herself to her feet.  "And ye already got yer wand!  No fair cutting in line!  Ye gotta let everyone get their first ones first!"  Whether that had anything to do with how witches and wizards got their wands, Mairead didn't know, but that rule applied to chicken.  Why not wands?

"Next at going in there!" she gestured towards the wand shop.  And, on top of waiting for the last several hours (well, twenty minutes at least), she'd been denied getting her wand for several weeks now.  "I ... well, I don't know," she conceded.  "But ... if ye are going in there, I'm next."  That, after all, was the important take away message.  She met his icy gaze with a haughty snort and crossed her arms over her chest.  "What's yer problem?" she demanded.  "Since those cloigis aren't around, are ye filling their role?" 

Mairead shook her head, denying she hadn't gotten her wand yet.  "I'm trying to get it now," she explained.  "If people'll stop cutting." 

Adley was a bit offended-- though tried not to show it one way or another-- that she hadn't seemed to recognize him as quickly as he'd recognized her. She'd call him a prat, even. He wondered how many people she possibly could have met in the past few weeks, while he was stuffed up in his family's home, forced to find adventures there, by himself. At least, it seemed, it was unlikely she'd made friends with any of the people he loathed. Effie's little army were a loyal bunch of mindless nifflers, after all.

"It's me," he confirmed, arms still at his sides as he continued to stare. He looked only fleetingly to the bag of food or whatever she'd been eating, which she smashed so easily with her hand. He didn't get to do that often, not in the company of whomever he dined with on any given day. But alone, it was always immensely satisfying, eating what he wanted and how he wanted. Her parents seemed awfully absent, but maybe it was because they were muggles. He wondered how exactly they knew the Grimlishes; his own parents never brought muggles to the house, but the ones he met didn't seem all that bad. It was just an unexplored subject.

"I wasn't even coming to Ollivander's," he pointed out, sounding only mildly offended as he attempted to keep his voice in its usual state. "I was going down there, to the book store." He pointed vaguely down the road, but the shop's hanging sign could be barely seen from so far off, and with so many people moving around as a distraction. "But..." The books could wait. Adley had wanted to know more about Mairead ages ago, even before the moment his wand had found him. He'd been patient, but he wasn't going to carry on and stroll away to be buried in books when she was sitting here in front of him. It was like being let in on a whole new world, discovering that a classmate, and perhaps multiple classmates (since his encounter with the tall boy in the menagerie) were so vastly different than he.

Pulling out his own wand, and holding it so that Mairead could see it, he intended to let her know that he had no plans to cut her in line. "Clo-- what?" He winced at bit at the unfamiliar word. She might not have known much about the wizarding world, but the things she did know sounded about as comprehensible as Chinese to Adley's ears. He hated not knowing, but he was extremely curious. "I don't know who they are, but I don't have any problems. I don't have my wand stuck up places it doesn't belong, like Euphemia's." He held his own wand out further still, but made sure not to drop it or let it out of his sight. He wasn't taunting her; he was showing. Sharing, even, possibly. Not that wands could be shared, or that Adley was particularly trusting of people who didn't know well. But she was the only person he'd met who he could discuss such things with, without being told to stop wasting time. Everyone else in his life already had their wands, and knew exactly what they could do. "See? I don't want another one."

He looked to the glass again. "They can't see you out here. The line is inside." Moving to the door, he pulled it open slowly, and stared at Mairead, waiting for her to follow. He was unaware that there were any stipulations on her entering the shop or trying wands, and surprisingly innocently interested in seeing a choosing take place.

Mairead inhaled deeply, sucking in her stomach and tugged her skirt around so that it lay on her backwards.  With the skirt on back to front, she could much more easily look down and brush the majority of the dust from the fabric.   She glanced up briefly, as the boy - Adley, wasn't it? - confirmed what they both already knew.  Good.  Glad they got that squared away.  He was him.  Or me, rather.   

He was a curious lad; Mairead wasn't sure what to make of him yet.  He was upper class - that was sure.  The dress, the stance, the way he spoke all said that.  And, it had been clear that those stuck up people in the wand shop (She could now add that girl from the second trip to that group) expected him to act like them.  That Effie girl and that woman had been, clearly, disappointed with Adley for not treating Mairead in the same manner.  But, Mairead had met many kids who acted one way in the presence of their elders just to irk them - it may not necessarily say anything about who he, really, was. 

"Oh," Mairead responded, shrugging her shoulders.  Okay.  So, he wasn't going there.  And, if he was, he'd know she was next.  "Alright.  Well, just so you know."  It was kind of lame, Mairead knew that.  Really, this was an end justifies the means type thing.  "The bookstore?" Mairead repeated, clearly rather disappointed by that fact.  "That's boring.  Why were ye going there?"  If she were on her own, the bookstore would be the last place she'd go.  Especially with that joke shop around - and the ice cream shop, not to mention the candy store.  Even that scary pet shop with the spiders down the dark alley would be preferable to the bookstore.

Mairead's eyes widened as the boy brought out his wand and, after quickly twisting the skirt back on the right direction, crossed the distance towards her.  She watched it curiously, reaching out a hand, but quickly pulled it back.  "Cloigis" she repeated, shrugging her shoulders.  "I don't really know what it is in English.  Like ... useless group of women.  Something like that.  That woman - and that hag of a girl.  How dark did her eye get, by the way?"  Mairead shrugged her shoulders, not sure she believed his insistence on not having a problem.  "Ye were looking like ye were angry."  She peered down at the wand again, curiously.

"I don't wanna get kicked out, again," she offered in explanation, looking for the boy to the open door and the girl who was still in the shop with her father.  "I already been kicked out twice; if they kick me out again, I may never get me wand."  She hesitated a few more moments, but finally crossed the road towards the open door.  Perhaps, somehow, the boy being there would help keep her in check.  "That girl better keep her trap shut, though," she muttered.

Adley wanted to snort or make some kind of noise as he watched her clean her skirt. He had never seen anything like it, wands aside. It wasn't even that she was a girl, or that she'd come from a muggle family-- she was just strange, in general. Not the bad sort of strange, though. Not like Effie's affection for her doll. (A target Adley still desperately wanted to hit. He'd daydreamed about kidnapping the thing.)

Just so he knew. Right. But she wasn't throwing punches at him for cutting her in queue. It seemed like they were still on alright terms, in that sense. He didn't expect her to do anything like that, though, even if he had reservations about everyone, from this girl, to his future professors, to (if only subtly) his father. She couldn't possibly lump him together with Effie. A blind squib with a hearing problem couldn't do such a thing, and Mairead seemed a lot cleverer than that, in her own way. It wasn't Adley's sort of well-spoken clever, but it was... again, bold. A non-threatening, refreshing sort of clever. A girl who could sit in dirt and jump at people. His mother, if she were mentally well, would have a heart attack. Oddly enough, he wouldn't put it past his sister Martine to behave similarly, but she'd do it in a different way. A Rothwell way. Mairead was Mairead in the middle of a crowded, sunlight alley she'd nearly already been banished from (twice, though Adley didn't know it).

"Maps," he said, standing a little more firmly in his place. "Pirate novels with maps in them." Not all books were boring. In fact, a considerable number of books had replaced children in Adley's life. There were fewer and fewer people his age crossing the threshold into the Rothwell house since the war. It had been different before; the family had been more open, and the older children had had plenty of company. But families had been torn a part, had fallen into shambles, had served life sentences for the crimes, had lost or squandered their money, and relationships had been damaged, wizards estranged, and future heirs left in theory. Adley knew only a fraction of this, but he felt it. He'd come to expect, though, and it didn't bother him to be on his own like it did most children. He liked to be in control of his environment. Still, meeting new people... "They aren't boring," he added quietly, studying her carefully. Adley tended to think ill of people who preferred dolls and kittens to adventure stories and exploration. Mairead told him quite the confusing tale about exploding cars, or whatever they were called. Didn't gypsies have lots of stories? "I've read a ton of them. I could retell them all." He was proud of it. If she'd bothered to write, he might have even torn out a map and sent it her way. Wizarding maps were much different than the muggle sort. "There are maps of Hogwarts, too. With secret passages in them." He'd only been told about that. Martine had told him that students used to have maps to dodge classes and detentions-- she hadn't mentioned Harry Potter or the war. He appraised Mairead, waiting for a reaction.

Silently pleased that she seemed interested in the wand-- apparently she didn't think this wizard business was as ridiculous as some of his familiars believed muggles to be-- Adley didn't immediately pull it back, even when she pulled her own hand away. He looked down at it, too, following her gaze, and feeling again that surge of excitement at finally having his own bit of magic. He'd been a patient child, but he was ready for his life to begin. "Euphemia," he said, his mouth twisting unpleasantly. "She's useless." It was as much a fact as it was a statement of agreement. "I wanted her to be a squib. But Madam Adair..." Was quite possibly dangerous. "You should be careful who you speak to like that, they'll get you in trouble."

He was confused, for a moment, about the next question. But then it dawned on him, and he shook his head. "They probably fixed it with magic. Her nanny would have been sacked if her parents saw it. I'd rather be sacked, though." He'd let Effie's eye swell to the size of an elephant, and smile pleasantly all the while. "Maybe you can take out both of her eyes when you get your wand." In Adley's estimation, wands were more powerful than fists... but there was still something that he admired about people who were forthright with their hands. It was double the weaponry.

If he looked angry, it was because he was a sullen and distrusting child, but Adley could hardly fathom or say as much. He was just being Adley. He stared back blankly, denying it with his eyes, and at the same time, not at all.

Having crossed the street and stood his ground, waiting, Adley was relieved to see that she finally followed. A part of him was not surprised, having felt they'd established some kind of alliance-- the anti-Effie alliance, maybe. The other part was pleased. "If you pretend you don't know they're a bunch of prats, they won't kick you out," he said coolly, opening the door further and stepping across the threshold. "You have to act like you know what you're doing, though." If it sounded contradictory, it was became this particularly game was part well-played ignorance, and part over-confidence. One just had to assert it at the right times. Adults were much stupider than they credited themselves with being.

Adley approached the clerk with a docile but meaningful air. It was not unlike how he'd approached the shopkeeper weeks ago, bluntly informing that he wanted to purchase a wand, but keeping his hands and arms in the invisible cart. It was largely a staring game. "We're here for a wand," he said, his eyes flicking over his shoulder to indicate Mairead. After he settled on the shopkeeper again, letting his words sink in, he looked back to the girl properly, silently urging her to take the lead.

Skirt relatively clean (or, at least, lacking large clumps of dust) and situated in the usual manner, Mairead found herself giving the boy another close consideration.  In a calculating and refined way, he seemed friendly.  He certainly didn't seem the type that she'd find herself racing off to trudge through bogs in search of stuck treasure with - he still seemed far too clean for that - but he didn't seem to feel the need to look down his nose at her.  A trait which readily translated to friend potential in Mairead's mind.  But, it was worth making sure of one thing before delving too far into this potential friendship. 

"So ... ye don't care that I'm a mudblood?" The question came out firmly, boldly as Mairead watched the other boy for any changes in body language that would indicate he meant a different answer than he actually provided.  The term mudblood, to the keen observer, had been delivered with just the slightest touch of a punched challenge, daring him - or any of the paserbys who'd heard the profanity loud and clear - to either scold her for her (apparent) foul mouth or to admit they had a problem with it. 

Mairead had, indeed, gathered this boy was different than that wench of an Effie that had been so arrogant and that smug woman who'd looked down her nose at anything that had a brain.  But, years of habit - years of getting maliciously tricked and schemed by those of his class had left a deep-seated self-preservation inspired distrust.  She was willing to grant him an exception - willing to acknowledge he could be different - but, it may take a few blunt questions to settle her mind and convince herself that this wasn't some grand prank on Effie's part.  It had happened before.  The kid that drew the shortest straw has to befriend the Pavee kids and lures them into some garbage-involving trap. 

"Maps?" Mairead eyed Adley curiously.  Admittedly, the word pirates was sufficient to spark Mairead's interest.  There weren't many tales of pirates lingering in Oisin's tales but there were a few.  And, they had sneaked into a couple of pirate movies at the cinema.  They were always fun and usually prompted several good weeks of pretending to be pirates when they were by the coast.  But, she wasn't ready to admit defeat and find something of value in a book.  "Whadya want maps for?"  Mairead asked, crossing the street towards him.  She shrugged passively.  Books still seemed boring to hear - but of course, the contents of them were still just a jumble of lines, circles and other odd shapes.  Some had neat pictures in them but the books with really fun pictures were, usually, too hard for her to get her hands on.  But, retelling stories - now that was an entirely different situation.  "Ye can?  Me grandpa - well ... we aren't really related.  He's me godmother's father - but I call him grandpa because it's easier.  But, Oisin tells lots of stories.  Most nights.  Those are always fun," but, in her mind, very different then reading.  "I never really liked maps.  I bet ye can find all that stuff without one.  I already found the kitchens.  And, the forest."  Mairead had done quite a bit of exploring during those days at Hogwarts during the Remembrance Day festivities and she already had plans for further exploration. 

Fleetingly, Mairead shrugged off Adley's warning.  She saw little reason to be careful.  Other than to reminisce about the outraged looks on their faces, Mairead hadn't spared either Effie or that Adair woman much of a second thought.  But, it was disappointing to hear that the girl's eye was so quickly fixed.  "That sucks," she admitted.  She would have liked to have seen the girl wandering around with the shiner pulsating on her face.  And, it would have been even better if somehow Mairead could have signed it.  Like an artist signs a painting.  "Really?"  It seemed logical in retrospect but Mairead hadn't considered that the wand would and could be a weapon.  She'd seen the wands mend crates and make bottles of drink bigger but taking out someone's eyes.  But, then, she remembered something that Miles had mentioned and covered her nose with her hand.  "Like boggies?" she asked. 

Mairead rolled her eyes at the boy's back as he stepped in to the wand shop.  Her first gut response was to point out she didn't really need his help - she was fine on her own.  But, the reality was, so far she hadn't been that fine on her own.  "That's easier said then done."  Shouldn't she make sure they know she thought they were a bunch of idiots?  It'd be lying otherwise.  Not that she minded lying if it worked in her favor. 

Despite her feigned confidence, Mairead hung back as Adley approached the counter.  The shopkeeper looked at Adley but then followed his gaze back to Mairead and almost immediately the shopkeeper rolled her eyes with a sigh.  "Oh, it's you," the woman said, without needing any introductions.  "Let's get this over with before you attack anyone else.  I'll let him know you're here."  The shopkeeper excused herself from the girl and her father and stepped back into the backroom. 

"I think she remembers me," Mairead muttered under her breath to Adley.  She smirked slightly.

The corner's Adley's red little mouth turned down slightly, and he took his time answering. "No," he said. He had not heard the word uttered very often, save whispers around Knockturn Alley, and episodes like the one on the day Adley was united with his wand. Perhaps echoes, the word laughed and muffled from downstairs when he was supposed to be sleeping. Adley was not always invited to his parents' dinner parties, and thus had to resort to spying until they became insufferably boring. He had, however, read it in quite a few books he'd nicked from his father's library, or from storage boxes in the attic. The Rothwell's home had one of those old, roomy attics with a proper staircase, and was made even bigger and more of a hoarder's dream by the delicate charmwork breathed into it. "You're a muggleborn, but you're ages better than Euphemia, aren't you?" It wasn't really a question, because they both knew the answer. "She hasn't even tried to attack me like that. You must be special." Slowly, something tugged his frown into a sideways smirk, very like one that might have been seen on any of the older Rothwell children. It was remarkable, how alike they were sometimes. "But if you go around calling yourself a mudblood, people will think you're off your head."

He could hardly believe he had to defend books. Sure, there were those boring, useless kids who only read books, and never bothered trying to live out their plots in real life. Those people were as useless as Eirene, and as untrustworthy as Effie. Oh, and, had Adley mentioned? Boring. But, even if he much preferred company like Mairead's, people who were bold and intuitive and as much about fiercely putting to use their heart and hands as their minds, he still didn't imagine he would have to explain why reading wasn't just for old spinsters. In true adolescent boy fashion, he hated to be grouped with those other, more docile children. Adley was only a lamb when he needed to be. "Maps..." Adley furrowed his brows, as if the word alone were enough. "You know, to find things and people and lost places. There used to be this hidden place at Hogwarts called the Chamber of Secrets a long time ago, and it was full of snakes, but I think there are other things like it." Adventure struck his throat as he spoke, and his eyes seemed to dance with excitement that was not always evident upon first encounter. But Adley was a child, and once he got on the subject of something he loved, he could carry on quite contently and confidently. He was still coming around, too, having not spent too much time with other people his age.

Admittedly impressed that she'd already been to the castle-- Adley had only seen the grounds during certain holidays and festivals-- he tilted his head. "The Forbidden Forest? Were you there in the day or at night?" Did it make a difference? There were still terrible and wonderful things inside. "There are centaurs in there who kidnap teachers, but they like people our age." Hopefully with a few exceptions, like brats in perfect, glossy braids. "I have uncles I'm not related to, but my grandfather's dead." It was weird, for her to have one who wasn't her own blood. It was a bit different from uncles, Adley thought. But every family had its niches, even his own. Granted, his own was the only one he had to go off of, and he was rather partial to them, whatever their many secrets. "Now that you're a witch, you could probably tell him better stories." Adley was curious about muggles, but he still fancied having a wand. Mairead seemed the special one in her family, even if Adley had never met them.

Almost snorting with laughter, but not, Adley agreed that it 'sucked' that Euphemia had probably been healed quickly and easily. It was the only downturn to magic. Enemies had it, too.

"Like what?" He scrunched one side of his face at the mention of things that came out of it. How was hexing Effie blind comparable to boggies? "No, you just wave your wand and--" He gestured with his fingers to his eyes. "Pluck them out. It's probably illegal, but..." He shrugged. There could be exceptions.

Not seeing her reaction, and letting her words fall back into the summer sunshine now being shut out behind them, Adley continued on his mission to warm up the shopkeeper. Mairead could undoubtedly hold her own, but this was still wizard turf, and she didn't have her wand yet. Shouting words like 'mudblood' was as foolish as it was brave. His blank expression flinched only just when the woman seemed less than thrilled to recognize Mairead.

"She sounds like she thinks you killed her cat or something," he murmured back, glancing sideways to Mairead, appraising with new suspicion and admiration. The smirk caught on and he returned it. "When they measure you," he added, watching the woman retreat. "Don't touch the tape."

There was hesitation in the boy's answer and Mairead inhaled, puffing up her chest and lifting her chin, silently daring the young man to give her grief for the question.  But, her tension eased away as denied any problem - the denial being easy to believe in its sheer simplicity.  "Of course," Mairead confirmed.  How could anyone even question that she was better than that Effie girl.  It was like asking whether a nice chocolate pudding with lots and lots of whipped cream was better than snow covered mud pies.  Really, it wasn't much of a compliment but, once Adley had turned towards the wand shop, a grin flickered across her face.  She was special but it nice (and rare) when someone from his social class recognized that.  "I don't get what the big deal is," Mairead admitted as she caught up with Adley.  "It's a name - people call me names all the time.  But, me da always told me if ye can call yerself it, it isn't as bad." 

"I never seen a snake before," Mairead added with a shrug.  "But, ye need a map to find those things?"  Of course, Mairead wasn't about to deny that searching for these things didn't sound exciting - it was the use of a map that Mairead was hesitating on.  "What about those things that aren't on maps?  Ye know?  I mean, if yer looking for things on a map, yer only finding things others have found before."  Mairead had a healthy appetite for adventure and had grown up with the benefit of not being tied to one place.  All of Ireland had been her playground.  "But, I can't actually, ye know, read maps?"  Or books.  "During the day."  Granted, Mairead hadn't gone that far in, either.  There had been so much going on on the castle grounds that she'd always been distracted from the trees.  "I may have better stories but Oisin a great storyteller.  And, are stories have more magic in it then ye might expect.  He tells stories all the time of flying horses and magical fairies and everything." 

Mairead shook her head dismissively.  She had yet to really sort out the whole booger thing - or boager thing - whatever they were.  She just remembered that they could become terrifying and, somehow, Mairead liked the idea of making scary things scurry out of others' noses.  "But, she'd look even uglier without eyes," Mairead pointed out. 

"I been kicked out twice for picking fights," Mairead answered, her smirk persisting until Mairead finally took a moment to get a good look at the shop.  Somehow, despite having been in the place twice, Mairead had yet to take a good look at the wand seller's shop.  Before she had the opportunity, she had been distracted by the presence of obnoxious girls.  It was cluttered but seemed to have its own sense of order.  "I ... what?"  Mairead asked, her attention settling on Adley after she finished surveying the shop.  "They're going to measure me?" 

"Not exactly."  A weathered skin, grey-haired man followed the shopkeeper from the back room, baring leather bundle under his arm.  "Each wandmaker has their own way of going about matching wands with their user."  The man nodded once at Mairead before store clerk who was still watching Mairead warily.  "Don't worry.  We'll be fine."  The woman shrugged and turned her attention back to the first girl and her father while the man beckoned Mairead back towards one of the corners. 

Mairead had been standing, staring unblinkingly at the fellow since he'd followed the woman from the back room.  It wasn't until the fellow had beckoned her over that she came around and moved forward.  "Wait!" Mairead said, looking at Adley with a broad grin before quickly leading the way to the fellow.  "I know ye.  Yer ... Yer.  Well, I don't know yer name.  But, yer the wood turner!  Yer's a wizard?" 

Opie had told Mairead that she and Mairead's parents had found a Pavee wandmaker but it had never occurred to her that she'd actually know the person.  They didn't cross paths that often - obviously not enough for Mairead to have learned his name - but Mairead distinctly remembered him and his wooden dolls. 

"Deaglan McDonough, the man offered both of the youngster's, extending a hand towards Adley and then Mairead.  "And, aye.  There's a few of us magical types among the Travellers, but not many.  But, I've been watching you for a couple years now.  I wasn't surprised to hear you'd been accepted to Hogwarts.  It's about time, too."

Adley was on the verge of retorting, going into more specific detail on the history of the word 'Mudblood'-- though, it could have been noted, he wasn't as particularly knowledgeable on the topic as he might have liked to have been-- when Mairead brought up a unique point, one he (annoyingly) hadn't considered. There was strength in it, he had to admit, in being able to throw the word right back at someone, to own the title, to make it one's own. It was ballsy, and, well, clever in its own way. Even if it invited trouble from certain sects of society. He inclined both brows, and smirked a little. "Right..." He shrugged. "Strangers call me adorable and I sometimes pretend to be, but I'm not," he added hurriedly, almost defensively.¹ "But I let them think it, and I get what I need. Maybe you can call yourself that around Euphemia, to make her mad." And then throw more punches at her stomach. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Mairead was proposing things he'd never thought about.  "It wouldn't hurt me to be called it if I were-- muggleborn... But I'd still be mad." Adley liked asserting himself in subtle ways, and, over the course of time, in more obvious ways. For example, he was plainly scathing toward the Dolohov girl. There was no point hiding it. In fact, he was rather proud. Mairead seemed to be proud of having sought revenge, too.

"There's Headmistress, the Snark lady," he added suddenly, returning to his point about being cautious of saying certain things in front of certain people. Adley knew enough about the small circle of old wizarding families to know the power they held over other people, even if he didn't know all of their leanings. It was why he'd tread so carefully in Rocio's presence, whether or not he actually enjoyed the role of docile lamb (and he most certainly didn't). "The newspapers say all sorts of things about her, and I think she'll be tougher than the last one, Greyfriar. If you start screaming you're a Mudblood.... and she chucks you out of school... then what? You'll have your new wand snapped and no one will be there to punch Effie in the throat." His voice became a touch humorous as he mentioned violence against his mortal enemy.

She'd never seen a snake? Well, to be fair, Adley had never seen one of those exploding cars. "And sometimes there are things on maps that don't seem to be there," he countered. "Like walls that turn into corridors..." He'd heard the stories, too many of them. His brother had been away in Egypt for what felt like ages now, and Adley passed the time by writing him all sorts of crazy questions. What Calix wouldn't tell him, he gleaned from prying in on Martine's conversations, or else allowed her to believe she was pacifying him by telling him stories. "Even if someone has found it, it means it's worth finding. And it might be lost by now... but you don't always need them, no," he admitted, warming up to her still. "You can't read maps during the day?" He asked, sounding immediately puzzled as his blue eyes poured into her. During the day. What did that mean?

"Flying horses, like abraxons or hippogriffs," he encouraged, slightly impressed and also pleased to hear that muggles told such stories. It made it easier, some how, to relate to her, this girl who was so different from he. And it gave him something to shove back in Effie's face if-- or when-- she undoubtedly berated him for his newfound alliance. "Fairies are a bit useless," he added with a little shrug of a frown. "Except the ones who bite."

Laughing under his breath at the idea of Euphemia without eyes (it was a disturbing picture, but also a satisfying one), he continued on into the store, playing the chess game that was Coddling Adults. "Who did you punch the second time?" He asked approvingly, while the shopkeeper busied herself. Adley wasn't exactly the sort of little boy who applauded others all day, being slightly too sure of himself for that, but he could appreciate anyone who could wreak havoc... twice... and have the guts to step foot into the same place again. Now he understood her initial hesitancy, and felt his own shoulders round, suddenly expecting the shopkeeper to give them trouble. Adley was prepared. He wasn't going to surrender now that he'd stepped into the game. He wasn't prissy little Eirene Antonopoulos.

"Well, ye--" Before he could continue, a stranger entered the scene. Adley had never seen him in the shop before, but it quickly became apparent that Mairead's wand was going to find her under special circumstances. The boy appraised the man, almost suspiciously, but also with extreme curiosity. Another wandmaker. Who didn't have an Ollivander wand? He'd never met a witch or wizard without one. His hand fell to the side his trousers, where his own phoenix core wand was in his pocket. Mairead, who seemed unable to blink, was Adley's opposite in that moment: the Rothwell boy couldn't stop his lashes from fluttering downward in sheer confusion, uncharacteristically forfeiting his strong gaze. But Mairead was smiling, familiarity creeping into her accent.

"You're a muggle wizard?" He blurted out, almost demanding in his disbelief. It was different from what Mairead seemed to be, the magical child of muggles. This man, from what he gathered, lived among them as a fullgrown wizard and wandmaker. But, slowly, Adley accepted the man's hand and gave it a proper shake.

---

¹We all know that role is filled. ILU

Mairead's head whipped around and she stared, wide-eyed at the boy.  He really ... "Adorable?"  Mairead breathed back, the incredulous disbelief worn unwaveringly and shamelessly in her features.  Though still observable, a brief flash of doubt and uncertainty about the boy in front of her was far more subtle.  Slowly, she shook her head.  "Ye let them call ye adorable - and pretend to be?  I - don't they ... and yer a boy!"  How could appearing adorable help someone get what they needed?  She regarded him quietly for several moments, her eyes sliding slowly from his neat, clean shoes to his clean pressed clothes and, finally, settling on his face.  Finally, her confusion broke through in a blunt, blurted question.  "Ye act adorable and they don't think yer weak?"

"How would ye know?"  The question escaped Mairead before reason could temper her words.  But, despite his attempts to be friendly, the boy standing before her was, quite clearly, from that other class.  That higher class.  Her habitual assumptions of him, backed only by a single-sided analysis of those whose appearance and demeanor he resembled, left her highly skeptical that he really, truly, understood the sting of vindictive names.  Perhaps, had she the patience and where with all to think before speaking it might have occurred to her that she really didn't know enough about the boy to know whether or not he had faced any such grief but, as usually, her mouth was usually much faster than her words. 

Her eyes widened and, though her mouth opened as if to speak, she produced no words.  It wasn't out of a sudden acquisition of sensitivity but out of a pure uncertainty as to what about this new Headmistress was so dumbfounding as to receive the sharp comment.  They could get kicked out of school?  There was a new Headmistress who was tough? If she got kicked out of school they'd snap her wand?  The wand she didn't even have, yet?  That Effie girl would still be in school?  She would have won?  There had been enough trepidation surrounding the start of school: the reading, the homework, the long lengths of time spent in one place.  But, now, the bar had been set higher; the price of loosing had become for more precious that it had been before.  Despite several seconds of hanging open, nothing of use came from her mouth.  Instead, with a frustrated sigh, Mairead breathed, "cabóg" under her breath.  The scathing insult could have been directed at either the new Headmistress or Effie. 

Mairead was starting to (marginally) recognize the advantage of a map.  Especially here where the basic elements of the world didn't behave in the way she was accustomed to.  Disappearing doors and transforming corridors would, quite likely, make it difficult to proceed on one's own.  But, she wasn't quite willing to, openly, concede to Adley.  She didn't have a lot of skills or abilities she could claim - especially without reading and writing - but finding her way was one of them.  "No," Mairead said, sighing and rolling her eyes.  "I'd only been in the forest during the day.  I can't read maps at night, either - I mean.  I can't read maps at all.  Well, at least, I never really tried much.  I can't read - well, I'm learning." 

"Well, I think just pegasus," Mairead said with a shrug.  She wasn't sure she'd heard of either of the other creatures in Oisin's stories.  "But, other creatures, too - like the Pucka and we - well, we tell lots of stories about witches and stuff.  I had an old aunt that thought she could tell the future but we all said she was just a bit off.  But, me da says that lots of old Tinkers used to make a living telling muggles fortunes."

 Mairead pursed her lips in thought as she tried to remember the second girl's name.  It was strange - even stranger than the first.  What was it about stuck up wizarding girls and strange names?  Maybe, if their mothers had given them more mundane names, they'd be less full of themselves.  Like Abigail.  It was hard to feel stuck up and entitled when one was named Abigail.  "Some girl," Mairead answered vaguely at first.  Then, as the bits and pieces returned to her, she added, "Eire or something like that.  The last name was impossible."  Fully expecting trouble from the shopkeeper (or in the very least, Mairead expected the woman to watch her like a hungry vulture), Mairead couldn't resist the slight smirk when the grizzly old man seemed to so casually offer her his vote of confidence. 

The older wizard set the rolled bundle of leather on some free counter space and unrolled it, revealing a small though curious selection of wands.  "I'm a wizard," Deaglan offered casually in response to Adley's blunt question, offering no indication that he'd even recognized the disbelief in the boy's name.  "But, after school, I returned to the Travellers and, yes, lived amongst muggles - not unlike the warlocks of old.  Of course, I don't violate the Secrecy act.  Most muggles just think I'm a wood carver."  He nodded pointedly at Mairead.  "But, since there aren't a lot of us, I have the benefit of having watched you grow up, lass.  I have some idea of what wand would work best with you.  Perhaps I'm just tooting my own horn a bit too much but, I suspect, an Ollivander wand wouldn't have served you that well." 

Mairead cast him a curious look but her attention quickly returned to the dozen wands laid out on the piece of leather.  Though her two previous trips into the wand shop had been ill-fated, she'd had surveyed the wands enough to know that the McDonough wands in front of her were far less finished and refined than the Ollivander wands, like the one that had chosen Adley.  At least half of the wands appeared almost indistinguishable from a random twig found lying on the ground.  None of the wands were perfectly straight and several were enhanced with simple carved patterns or painted designs.   "Alright, close your eyes and reach out and pick out whatever three your hand's drawn to.  And, then, give them a wave." 

"Close me eyes?"  Mairead repeated, doubtfully but, at the older man's encouraging nod, she closed her eyes and reached her hand out.  At first, Mairead grasped the first wand her fingers felt.  She took hold of it - it felt cold and lifeless in her hand.  As she reached out the second time, a peculiar feeling of warmth drew her hand over a particular wand and she lifted it up as well.  Despite the warm trail it, too, grew cold as she lifted it.  Once more, her hand was drawn to a third wand but, this time, the warmth seemed to only grow as she lifted it.  Quickly, she opened her eyes and, excitedly, she looked from Adley to Deaglan and back to Adley.

“Only when I have to,” he countered, trying to make it clear. Adley often loathed being adorable; how many times had he ventured off on his own and tried to earn the same respect that adults bestowed his father? He recalled visiting Ollivander’s a while back, and telling the clerk, with a calm eeriness, that he wanted to buy a wand. But even so-- being labeled angelic had its benefits, and Adley would reap them where he was able. He would show them in the end that he was bolder or cleverer than they assumed, but not everyone needed to know it right away. “It’s like you letting them call you a Muggleborn,” he insisted. Obviously she turning the insult into a useful bit of pride. ‘Adorable’ wasn’t categorically the same, mind. “They’ll know I’m not weak when I take out my wand...” He smiled a bit, genuinely so this time.

“That’s what they do when they expel you. They take your wand.” He frowned a bit, looking at her from the side. It was so odd to speak with someone who didn’t know about such laws, and even odder to hear someone doubt such a real truth. And yet, it was the question Adley would have asked, were the roles were reversed. He would have wanted proof.

In all fairness, Adley might not have understood the word the girl whispered under her breath, or any number of words she’d spoken in their two brief encounters, but the fact that she couldn’t read made him double-take. Even the Forbidden Forest couldn’t hold his attention in light of this news. “Not even in your gyp-- your other language?” What would he have done without being able to read his brother’s letters, or snoop through his father’s papers? The pirate stories, and ways to avoid old, boring people... “Maps are easier, though,” he insisted. “They have pictures.” He might have added like baby books if he was talking to someone like Effie, but of the half dozen future Hogwarts students he’d met, only two had been ally material, and Mairead was one of them.

It was almost horrifying, but it was equally intriguing. And he was comforted in knowing, at least, that she liked stories. Unadventurous children annoyed him, though he’d been accused more than once of being docile and disciplined. Again, something he used to his advantage. “But spell books aren’t like muggle ones. No one will know how to read those.” Except for Adley. And Euphemia. And Eirene. He wanted to grimace at the thought of the pair of them doing better than he at any of their lessons, though he certainly wasn’t going to turn into Call-On-Me-Before-I-Pee-Myself Antonopoulos.

Speak of the puppet.

“Eirene?!” It was perhaps more emotion than he’d shown thus far, but Adley couldn’t believe the girl’s luck-- or bad luck. “She’s Euphemia’s best friend,” he said, his voice practically vomiting the words. “More like her house-elf, but she doesn’t know it even though she never shuts up about how smart she is.”

If Adley had found Mairead a marvel, her foreignness nearly paled in comparison to the wizard standing before them now. Someone Hogwarts educated, a wizard with full capabilities and a wand, who chose a muggle lifestyle? Adley had waited eleven years-- eleven years too many-- to start to use magic. He was counting down the days. How in the world could this man’s life be fulfilling? There was independence and solitude, and then there was... this wandmaker.

“My wand’s Ollivander’s and it suits me perfectly,” he said before he could stop himself; it was one of those rare moments of Adley jumping the gun (to put it in muggle terms). He was fond of his wand. Protective, even.

Still, he curious to see how this man did things...

The process was strange, but logical. Intriguing. Adley waited, holding his breath just a bit each time Mairead seemed on the verge of having luck. And finally she did. His eyes absorbed its surface, its length, its make. He looked up at the old wizard and finally to Mairead, not able to prevent himself from smiling-- and not wanting to, really. They both had proven prowess now, as far as he was concerned. And Hogwarts was only weeks away.

Mairead still wasn't sure about the boy's confession.  She couldn't imagine trying to 'play the adorable card' for any reason and wondered, briefly, what Tito would think if she every tried to use such a technique.  "I'm not sure," Mairead said, shaking her head slightly.  In her mind, mudblood and adorable were hardly the same thing.  Adorable seemed far more insulting.  But, if that tactic worked for him and didn't cause trouble, all the best for him.  Mairead shrugged her shoulders and turned back to the task at hand. 

A slight pinch of color rose in Mairead's face before she, curtly, shook her head.  "Naw.  I mean, most road signs at home are in Irish and I can recognize a few of them."  Recognize them by shape, mostly.  It would be an exaggeration to claim she could read the lettering on them.  "But, I never seen Shelta written.  Me mum's not that good at reading.  And, of course, it's not like I ever been to school.  I just ... I don't know."  Mairead, again, shrugged, pride still making her reluctant to admit the value of maps.  "But, I am learning."  She repeated, just to make sure he hadn't overlooked that detail.

Mairead grinned slightly, nodding her head.  "Yeah.  That was the girl's name.  She's ... she's Ewfie's friend?  I guess that's not surprising.  But, I put spit in her hair and messed it all up.  She cried."  Actually, Mairead wasn't sure if the girl had, actually, cried.  But, whether or not the girl had actually shed tears seemed less crucial than making Adley think she had.  "And, hid behind this woman.  Me pufferskin thing Ailill is braver than her." 

At the wandmaker's encouraging nod, Mairead gave the crooked wand a firm wave - much as she'd seen Adley do the first time she'd been in this shop.  But, there were no exciting sparks - in fact, a low though true-toned hum seemed to resonate from the wand for a moment before it grew silent again.  "Good 'nough, good 'nough.  Needs some breaking in, but it seems to like you well 'nough," Deaglan concluded, with a nod of his head.  "Rowan wood.  7 3/4 inches with a few strands of púca hair for the core.  Should suit you well." 

While Mairead surveyed the wand in her hand, Deaglan grinned at Adley's comment, giving the young man a good once over before responding.  "Of course an Ollivander's would fit you, lad.  You share some of the more ... careful refinement of those wands," he nodded towards the Ollivander wands in the shop before looking at Mairead.  "You're a witch, of course, and those wands will work for you.  But, it'd be like you trying to ride some blueblooded, high class Thoroughbred mare.  You could do it, no doubt, but you'd drive each other crazy." 

Mairead grinned at Deaglan and nodded before glancing at Adley.  She wasn't sure if the explanation would make much sense to her companion but it had proven completely illuminating to Mairead.  "Are ye getting Nechtan for it?"  Mairead asked, looking back towards the older wizard, curious if he was taking their most recent foal in payment for the wand. 

"Naw, my old mare's chugging along pretty well.  Don't need the extra mouth to feed.  I'm finally getting my hands on one of Murphy's fiddles.  And am quite excited.  Speaking of which, did old Murphy ever get around to teaching you youngsters to read?"  Mairead shook her head, ignoring the startled glance the girl and her father cast them from the counter.  But, without batting an eye, Deaglan nodded and tugged a slip of paper from his pocket.  "Ahh - suspected he didn't.  Here ... take these to your Charms teacher and have them teach you them.  Wouldn't have gotten through any of my reading or essays without them."  He handed Mairead the paper with the words Ascriba pinx and Acroasis scribbled across them before beginning to gather up the bundle of wands.