A/N: Hello again, welcome to chapter 2! I do not own Harry Potter.

"The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One."

Courtney Quin, eleven years and eleven months old, tucked a lock of golden blonde hair behind a diamond-studded ear. The stack in her arms had grown quite heavy by now, but she powered through it. There were many tomes of similar weight at home, and… well, she'd never admit it, but she'd been carrying stacks around for weeks in preparation for this day. If there was one thing she wouldn't have, it would be to look like she didn't belong. She was a Quin. A Quin, for Merlin's sake.

"Helloooo," said a carefully measured voice near her elbow, startling her out of her thoughts.

She turned to see a brown-haired girl smiling kind of manically at her.

"Hello," said Courtney cordially, with a pleasant smile in return. This was her first run-in with someone who looked about her age, and she was pleased to find that she fell naturally into the formal manner of speech she'd heard her parents use. "My name is-"

"I'm Aileen McMartin!" The brunette girl thrust out her hand determinedly, effectively cutting Courtney off mid-speech. "Pleasure to meet your magical acquaintance!"

"Er," replied Courtney , ruffled. Clearly this girl didn't have the same background she did. By any stretch. Still, she shook the girl's hand. "My name is Courtney Quin."

Again, the implications of a well-known surname were lost on Aileen.

"You're getting your books for the school year? Are you the same year as me? I'll be a first year." Aileen rattled this all off while trying to peek at Courtney's list.

"Yes," Courtney answered, self-consciously. She didn't like the way this McMartin girl was peering so closely at everything she was doing. It made her feel like she was forgetting something important, like putting her napkin in her lap at dinner. To gain control of the situation, she grabbed the conversation and threw it away from herself. "Haven't you gotten your books?"

She felt a little guilty at the pleasure she took from seeing the other girl look slightly less sure of herself.

"No, that's what I'm supposed to be doing. I have the list but I sort of got distracted by all the books here. Like, see over there? I was looking at the Divinitation-"

"Divination," Courtney corrected automatically.

"Yeah that, because I wanted to know what House I'll be in at Hop… er, Ham…"

"Hogwarts?"

"Yes! Is there a way you know? Are you supposed to know beforehand? Richard, my friend Richard, he was telling me about them on the way here. I've never been here before, by the way. He said there are, uhm, Gryffindor, that's the one I want to be in, and Slitherby, Ravenclaw, and Hupplefluff."

"Slytherin and Hufflepuff, you mean." The blonde girl was enjoying herself now. She liked the way the McMartin girl beamed admiringly at her when she knew something she didn't. This was the way this meeting was supposed to go, she thought to herself. She came from a long line of Pure-Blood witches and wizards, after all, and naturally should know all of these basic facts. She secretly felt this first year would be a snap; why wouldn't it? She had two full-blooded magical parents. She must have loads of talent. She smiled at the McMartin girl now, unable to resist showing off a bit of knowledge.

"You know, each of the Hogwarts Houses means something as well. You know Slytherin? Well, their mascot is a snake, and it was founded by Salazar Slytherin a very long time ago. People who are sorted into Slytherin are naturally ambitious and very smart. If I were to judge, I'd say they're the best sort of people. I mean, can you think of anything better than knowing exactly what your dream is, and being able to get it? Everyone in my family has been in Slytherin, I expect that's where I'll go too." She chose to leave out the part about Voldemort and all of that; that had ended years ago, when she was too young to even realize what was going on. Since this girl obviously didn't know anything about it, it probably didn't hurt to skip over it now.

"Wow! That's amazing, you know so much!" Aileen gasped. "What do you know about Gryffindor?"

"Well…" Courtney wasn't sure how she felt about Gryffindors. From what she knew from her parents, they were the House that got the most attention. Even before Harry Potter was a Gryffindor, her parents said the lions were always obnoxiously showing off, swaggering around the school like they were the absolute top. Of course, she did realize that Slytherin and Gryffindor always had a bit of a rivalry, and so her Slytherin family had an obvious bias against the other house. But still, her loyalty to her dream-House won out. "I think they're overrated."

"How d'you-"

The McMartin girl was cut off by a handsome wizard in fitted robes of a refined cream color. "Hello girls, took me a little longer than I thought, but I couldn't stand to walk around in that infernal suit another minute. Damned thing had no character. Horrible."

"Hi, Richard!" said the McMartin girl happily.

Courtney felt color rising in her cheeks.

Richard smiled kindly down at her. "So, we've made friends, have we? Hello, I'm Richard Crenshaw. I'm a friend of Aileen's parents. What might your name be?"

"Quin," she said quietly. Then, realizing how common that made her sound, she thrust her parents' cool tone into her speech. "Quin, sir. Courtney Quin. Abram Quin is my father."

"Abe?" Richard said delightedly, bringing his hands up to the lapels of his robes. "Your father is Abe Quin? Hell of a guy! He and I work together at the Ministry! Merlin, I knew he had a daughter but I wasn't aware she was a striking beauty such as yourself! How's your mum?"

"She's doing very well, sir," Courtney managed, thunderstruck. Striking beauty. Striking beauty. Striking. Beauty. I will marry this man and he will be my husband.

"Well, we'll have to get better acquainted another time; I'm helping Aileen here with her supply list. It's her first time in Diagon Alley, you know. Parents are Muggles and all that. Tell your father hello for me! See you later!"

"Goodbye," Courtney whispered, staring after the two as they made their way over to pick a copy of 1,000 Magical Herbs and Fungi. She found herself disliking the childish way the McMartin girl tugged at Mr. Crenshaw's sleeve to point out a stupid book of silly jinxes. She disliked the familiarity with which she addressed him. Richard. My friend Richard. And if she'd heard correctly, Mr. and Mrs. McMartin were Muggles? That made Aileen a… No, she'd heard from her parents that using the word "Mudblood" was in poor taste and spoke of a distinct lowness of class.

Muggle-born, then, she thought. Mr. Crenshaw worked at the Ministry though, why would he be showing a lowly- she cut herself off mid-thought. Muggle-borns are just as important as Pure-Bloods, she recited determinedly. Blood prejudice is not a trait of Quins. Muggles are just as important as wizards, and know many things we don't, just as we know things they don't.

These were lessons she'd been taught since she was old enough to know what a Muggle was, but they still felt hollow. How could a Muggle be as important as a witch or wizard? Muggles couldn't do magic. In fact, most grown Muggles didn't even like magic. She recalled hearing from an uncle how an ancestor of hers was (ineffectively) burned at the stake by Muggles for having magical powers. Thinking of this made her feel as if she herself was on fire.

She shook her head, striding purposefully to the counter and setting her books down. She paid the amount due without even thinking about it, and exited the shop, pondering.

Mr. Crenshaw was friends with the McMartins, he'd said. And he must be a very good friend, seeing as how the McMartins were Muggles. And he knew her father, supposedly well. She felt a prickle of dislike as she traced the connection between her family and the McMartins.

McMuggles, she thought suddenly, and giggled.

As she neared the Magical Menagerie to find a suitable pet, Mr. Crenshaw's handsome face floated across her thoughts of blood status and rank. She rewound the moment in Florish and Blotts over and over again. Striking beauty. Striking beauty. Striking beauty.

Pausing before entering the shop, she had an idea. Annoying as it may be, the McMartin girl had a clear friendship with Mr. Crenshaw. Therefore, she could use her as a link to get to know him better. Maybe one day, when she was a little older, call him Richard, too?

The girl smiled nervously at her own ambition. But then again, she mused, pulling open the door, she was going to be a Slytherin.