The Booknapping
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26th November, 2025
Grounds
Interacting with: @Sophie Meadows
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Speech -- Thoughts
Pam was sure she'd put it in her bag.
Positive. Absolutely certain. She'd never been more certain of anything in her life. She'd even done the little pat-the-pocket ritual she always did with anything and everything she possessed—the double tap, then the single tap, then another tap, then the mental Okay it’s safe, stop obsessing, dude. She remembered it. She felt it. She had a whole routine. A sacred, almost religious ceremony of making sure her belongings were where they were supposed to be because losing things came more easily to her than breathing.
And yet, here she was.
Yet somehow—somehow—for the love of Jesus Christ, Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Athena, Artemis, Apollo, Dionysus (especially Dionysus), and every random minor god she didn’t even know existed—her bag was now completely, stupidly, offensively bookless.
Pam crouched beside the courtyard bench, backpack dumped unceremoniously onto the ground like a crime scene she was about to investigate with chalk outlines and suspicious red strings on corkboards. She sifted through the contents with the frantic precision of someone who had definitely, absolutely not lost a book for the third time this term.
Which was no precision at all. Pam's fingers failed her every time she needed them to work.
"No, no, no—don't do this to me," she muttered under her breath, unzipping compartments like she was disarming the world's most cursed magical artifact. "I literally checked you. I checked you twice. The book's not even mine. You're my dad's remember? He'll kill me. I'll kill myself first. Maybe simultaneously. I don't know—just—why are you EMPTY?"
Her bag, traitorous beast that it was, offered her everything except what she needed. Out came parchment, quills, a half-melted chocolate frog, the other half of the chocolate frog wrapper, a fourth hair tie she didn't even remember owning, a folded timetable, last week's timetable, a crumpled reminder that said DON'T FORGET YOUR POTIONS ESSAY (which she had, obviously, forgotten), and a quill she was 80% certain did not belong to her.
But no Murder on the Orient Express.
No bright blue cover. No pages she had annotated with dangerous levels of emotional attachment. No Poirot. No anything.
Just… betrayal.
Pam froze, palms pressed into the grass, breathing like she had just survived a duel with death itself.
Okay. Don't panic. She HAS to be somewhere. She couldn't have vanished into thin air. This school is magic, not voodoo. The library? Did I read in the hallway? Did I leave her on my bed? Did a ghost steal her? Did a poltergeist eat her? DID I DROP HER ON THE STAIRS?? Did Ruth take her? No no no, that’s ridiculous. Ruth wouldn’t take her. Ruth would tell me. Ruth respects the process. Ruth has manners.
Pam was losing all her barely existent braincells one by one like dominoes falling off a cliff.
Her book—alone. Vulnerable. Probably freezing. Probably crying for her.
She had a vividly horrifying image: the book lying on the grass, shivering pathetically as students stepped over her, stepped on her, kicked her accidentally, or—God forbid—sat on her.
She felt physically ill.
Maybe my tree? That had to be it. Pam read there all the time. It was her spot. The spot. The only spot that existed for her outside the castle. She'd sat under that tree for hours before lunch, flipping pages until her handwriting cramped and her stomach was screaming and pleading for her like the abandoned middle child to let go of the god-forsaken book and give it some food. Yes. Yes, absolutely. That was where she must've left it.
Pam shot upright so fast her knees cracked.
She marched toward the lake with the determination of a woman going to rescue her firstborn child (which it probably was) from kidnappers. Her pace quickened. Then quickened more. Then became a full-on speed walk that was one sneeze away from turning into a sprint.
The wind nipped at her cheeks, but she didn't stop, didn't care, didn't even see anything around her. She was a laser beam of distress. A disaster missile. A one-woman rescue mission.
Her brain narrated dramatically the whole way:
Okay Pam, breathe. It's fine. Worst-case scenario someone picked it up and left it at lost and found. Best-case scenario it’s literally sitting there like a loyal little soldier waiting for you.
Then another thought.
Another worse one.
What if someone had picked it up? And… they were reading it?
Her legs suddenly decided to forget how to walk.
Someone would know her taste in books. They would know she annotated chapter nine. They would know she was trying to solve the mystery before even getting halfway through and guessing wildly. They would see her tiny scribbles like "BRUH THIS CHARACTER IS SO SUSPICIOUS" and "Poirot I swear to God if you don’t explain yourself—" and worst of all…
They would know when she guessed wrong.
Her guesses were probably wrong. Wrong, stupid, embarrassing, the "Are you even literate?" type of wrong.
She pressed both hands to her burning face.
Oh Merlin, I’m EXPOSED.
At least—at LEAST—it wasn't that one book where the main character commits a murder. The author had described everything way too vividly. If she'd lost that, the finder would need therapy. Or a priest. Or both. Probably both.
Pam reached the hill that sloped toward the lake, breath fogging in the cold morning air. She scanned the area in growing horror.
Her tree. Her beautiful reading tree. Her sanctuary.
Bookless.
She actually felt her heart drop to her stomach like a stone in water.
"Oh come ON," she groaned, stomping closer just in case the book was hiding behind the tree like a naughty child. "You can't just vanish! That's illegal. Books can't commit crimes."
She circled the tree like a detective inspecting a body. She scanned the ground. The roots. The grass. Even the branches, because maybe, through some cosmic accident, it had—uh—flown?
Nothing.
Pam let out a soft, strangled noise of pure emotional damage, then dropped onto the grass like a dying Victorian heroine. She lay there spread out like a starfish, staring up at the sky as if it might descend with divine advice.
"It doesn’t really make me feel any better," she told the clouds hanging proudly over her, watching her misery in all their glory.
"…This happened because I don't use bookmarks right? It's because I don't like to use them and because I use stray sheets of paper instead of bookmarks." she muttered. "This is karma, right? Straight-up karma."
She covered her face with her hands, groaning. The fear. The shame. The spiraling. The knowledge that her dad trusted her with that book and now it was probably rolling across the school grounds like a tumbleweed.
What if someone had taken it?
Pam sat up slowly, eyes narrowing.
Well. She’d ask politely, of course. She’d smile. She’d charm. She was a nice person. Obviously.
But if the book was even slightly bent—
If a single page corner was folded—
If one line of her handwriting had been smudged—
And— God forbid— if the spine was cracked—
Pam inhaled sharply.
She’d commit murder. She didn't read detective fiction for no reason, she had lots of knowledge on how to kill, and (probably) get away with it.
Because no one—NO ONE—messed with her books.
She slung her backpack over her shoulder with the energy of a determined gremlin and stood up.
Alright then. If the book wasn’t here, she had a whole castle to search. A mission. A quest. A destiny. A calling.
Percy Jackson could keep up his monster-taunting errands. And the whole "awakening the evil Mother Earth God with a nosebleed" agenda.
Pam was going to find her Agatha Christie.
Even if it meant checking every bench, hallway, desk, armchair, and suspiciously convenient ledge in this entire school.
She cracked her knuckles.
“Let’s go,” she muttered. “Your mom's coming for you, baby.”
And with that, Pam marched off, ready to terrorise the entire campus if she needed to.
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"I'd rather be heartless, than have my heart in pieces"
-Calming Presence- The Muggle Condition
iNPC: Hikari Fujimoto
The Booknapping
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Mentions: @Pamela Graham
Action: None
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══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════Speech~Thoughts
Sophie had just been strolling down into the grounds from the castle and saw a book lying on the ground. Firstly, who the heck was careless enough to drop a book on the grounds? people who didn't care, maybe some rude Slytherins might just trample all over it. Frowning at herself at this point, she picked up the book and wanted to see what it was.
It was a detective novel, by somebody called Agatha Christie, titled 'The murder on the Orient Express'. She had read Christie's books for they had been introduced to her along with wizarding books for being an avid reader for whom books were never enough, they always seemed to be in short supply. And even wizarding books weren't enough to keep her busy, so she had been introduced to muggle books too, they had way more variety. She especially loved Enid Blyton and Noel Streatfield.
Flipping through the pages, she came to a decision. She would not keep the book for herself and read it, much as she'd have loved to. She'd return it to one of the prefects or professors if she didn't find the irresponsible student who dropped it or probably didn't care about it. After all, this book didn't belong to her, and it wasn't her property to read it now without a care in the world, and put the book in her bag, zipping it securely. She didn't want this dear book to be lost again, and the next person who found it might not feel the need to return it.
Now looking up from the book, Sophie saw a blonde girl, who looked just a bit older than her, maybe a second year, zipping and unzipping her bag in a frenzy of anxiety. Maybe this was the person who lost the book, but before she even took a couple of steps forward, the girl buried her face in her hands, and Sophie hastened her pace towards her. That was a waste of time though, because the girl then immediately cracked her knuckles and marched off, in the opposite direction! Gosh, this was annoying, now she'd have to run to catch the girl or yell to stop her, or both, which was what she did.
Running towards the girl at top speed, she yelled at her "Wait!" and when they finally drew level, she bent to catch her breath and soon straightened up.
"Hi! I'm Sophie! Are you ok? You seem like you've lost something, want me to help you search for it? I'm free now anyways" she said in a friendly tone to the girl, but couldn't keep a touch of irritation out of her voice. After all, she had just run for no reason at sixty miles per hour towards her. And the girl also looked really annoyed (maybe she'd just lost her book and was really stressed about finding it?) but it was only right to help her find whatever the girl lost. If it was the book she'd found lying on the grounds, it would be an easy affair. Come to think of it, there was a name on the inside 'Pamela Graham'. If it did belong to this girl, she'd know by her name.
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Last edited by Sophie Meadows on 1 Dec 2025, 01:15, edited 1 time in total.
The Booknapping
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26th November, 2025
Grounds
Interacting with: @Sophie Meadows
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Speech -- Thoughts
Pam was about three seconds away from bursting into loud, ugly, soul-destroying tears.
And honestly? Three seconds felt optimistic.
All the anger, the frustration, the frantic power-walking around campus like she was training for the Olympics, the wild conspiracy theories about who might’ve stolen the book (her top suspect at one point had been a squirrel with suspiciously intelligent eyes)… it all finally collapsed in on itself. Imploded. Crumpled like bad origami.
What replaced it was so much worse.
Full-blown, brain-squeezing, heart-thumping panic.
The kind that made her chest feel hot and tight, like someone had stuffed a balloon animal inside her rib cage and was now trying to twist it into a poodle.
And the worst part?
Forget her dad's reaction to her losing the book — she herself would not be surviving this emotional apocalypse. Not today. Not this school year. Not this decade. She was pretty sure she'd be eighty-two, lying in a retirement home, still thinking about That One Book She Never Found.
She dragged a shaky hand through her hair as she walked, not entirely sure where she was going. Mostly because her legs had taken over while her brain was too busy screaming internally. Her breaths were short and uneven, and everything inside her buzzed so loudly it was like her whole body had become one giant alarm bell.
Then—
"Wait!!"
A voice sliced into her spiraling thoughts like someone had chucked a snowball at her face. Hard.
Pam spun so violently that her backpack nearly flung itself off her shoulder and into the next dimension.
"What?!' she snapped — except it wasn't even a proper snap. It was a panicked pop. Her voice cracked on the second half like a cheap plastic plate.
Realizing it, she swallowed hard, trying to wrestle her dignity back before it ran off screaming. She was NOT — absolutely not — about to verbally attack some random civilian who had simply dared to exist within a ten-foot radius of her emotional catastrophe.
She cleared her throat, squared her jaw, and mentally told herself:
breathe, idiot.
The girl approaching her had blonde hair — the same shade as Pam's, she noticed vaguely, like her brain had decided to latch on to the most irrelevant detail possible to avoid processing her crisis.
The stranger skidded to a stop in front of her, hands braced on her knees, panting like she'd just escaped a zombie chase scene. Then she straightened, puffed out her cheeks, and—
"Hi! I’m Sophie!"
Pam stared.
The wind rustled.
A bird chirped in the distance, as if judging the situation.
And Pam continued staring.
…And???
Okay???
Why???
Had she asked for this girl's name?
No.
Had Pam even looked remotely like someone capable of socialising right now?
Absolutely not. She looked like a raccoon who had just lost custody of its trash.
Then why was this girl introducing herself like they were about to be lab partners for the next semester?
Sophie, oblivious to the sheer tidal wave of confusion radiating off Pam, beamed brightly enough to power a small village.
"You seem like you've lost something! Want me to help you search for it? I’m free now anyway."
Pam blinked at her.
Hard.
Her brain began playing tug-of-war.
On one hand:
NO, PLEASE, I BEG YOU, LEAVE ME ALONE BEFORE I CRY ON YOU LIKE A WATERFALL.
Human interaction was NOT on her emotional bingo card for today. Talking to someone right now would absolutely speed-run her straight into a meltdown.
On the other hand…
Searching the entire school by herself would take hours. DAYS. Maybe the rest of her natural life. Maybe she’d turn into a ghost and haunt the hallways forever, whispering "where’s my book…" into people’s ears until they screamed.
Her shoulders dropped in exhausted defeat.
"…I mean…" she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck, "maybe? I— I did lose something."
Her voice cracked mid-sentence.
Rude.
She took a sharp breath, hoping it would reset her tear ducts or at least bully them into staying closed.
"I don't suppose you’ve seen a book?" she tried again, the words rushing out like they were trying to escape. "Blue paperback. Detective novel, lots of pages marked with post-its and—"
Oh.
Nope.
No.
No, no, no.
There was absolutely ZERO need to reveal that she was the kind of person who color-codes literary clues like an overcaffeinated detective.
She clamped her mouth shut so fast her teeth clicked.
Her cheeks warmed. Her fingers twitched uselessly, like they wanted to physically shove the words back into her throat and seal her lips with duct tape.
"Just— just a book," she corrected stiffly, trying to sound normal and failing miserably. "Have you seen it or not? It’s— it’s really important."
The last part cracked again. Of course it did. Her voice was officially her enemy.
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"I'd rather be heartless, than have my heart in pieces"
-Calming Presence- The Muggle Condition
iNPC: Hikari Fujimoto
The Booknapping
Interacting with @Pamela Graham
Speech~Thoughts
Whoa! You need to take a chill pill!
The girl snapped a very irritated 'What' at Sophie and spoke a bit rudely. That was not nice. Sophie at any rate did not like that too much.
But there was one thing she was happy with. This girl plainly loved her ....... whatever she had lost, so that was really good. Maybe that's why she was so rude right now, she was in a worried frenzy. Sophie could relate. She knew how horrible it was like to lose something. Whenever anything belonging to Sophie was lost, she'd run into a frenzy, not letting her mind work normally and snapping at everyone she passed without even thinking of their intent. Family members normally made allowances for this kind of behaviour till she calmed down and was reminded the same thing. She was a Meadows, so it was her duty to uphold the family honour and to not tarnish the family name by behaving like this.
A movement jerked her mind back to the present. The girl dropped her shoulders and said 'I mean', hesitating then, 'Maybe I did lose something', and her voice cracked and she took a sharp breath.
Sophie could understand one thing, she was trying her level best to be calm and level headed, but she couldn't do it more than this, so Sophie had to make allowances.
The girl spoke again "I don't suppose you’ve seen a book? Blue paperback. Detective novel, lots of pages marked with post-its and—"
Then, as if she had said too much about her private habits, or just too much, the girl shut her mouth, and in a second asked again in a more normal voice (maybe that was what she was aiming at?) "Just— just a book, Have you seen it or not? It’s— it’s really important.", but her voice cracked again.
This was great! She could make this girl feel better, for she knew where a lost book like this was. In her bag, where she had put it after she had picked it up.
Sophie smiled broadly, and pulling out that Agatha Christie from her own bag, she looked at it closely for a second. It matched the description the girl had given perfectly. "Would this be your book?" she asked, smiling at the girl. "It was on the grounds, I picked it up while coming here to hand it over to some prefect if I couldn't find the one who lost it myself. Try to be more careful with it next time.
She watched the girl closely for her reaction and noticed a few more details of her appearance. she had medium dark skin and long blonde hair like her, but there was one thing about her that was just so pretty. Her eyes.. they were turquoise and almond shaped with long lashes, and it did not look like she was wearing that muggle make up thing called mescara or mascara, anyway, it just made lashes look more voluminous.
The Booknapping
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26th November, 2025
Grounds
Interacting with: @Sophie Meadows
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Speech -- Thoughts
Pam's soul left her body.
Not metaphorically. Not dramatically. Not in a "haha I died" way.
No.
It literally felt like her soul packed its bags, saluted, and launched itself into the stratosphere the second Sophie pulled the book out of her bag.
Pam didn't even breathe.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t move.
She just stared at the familiar blue cover like Sophie had pulled out the Holy Grail, the Dead Sea Scrolls, and her long-lost twin sister all at once.
"…That’s her."
Her voice came out tiny.
Pathetic.
Ugly-emotional.
Had the girl even heard her?
She cleared her throat. Tried again.
"That’s— that’s my—" Her eyes burned instantly, traitorous things. "YES, that’s my book."
Before she could stop herself, Pam snatched it gently—gently but also fast, like someone might try to kidnap it again if she didn't reclaim it within the next 0.02 seconds. She clutched it to her chest with both hands, practically folding herself over it.
Her knees went weak.
For a horrifying moment, she thought she might cry in front of a random stranger on the school grounds.
Abort mission. ABORT.
"Okay— okay— oh my God—" she wheezed, hugging the book harder. "You don’t understand. I was about to file a missing persons report. I was mentally planning a funeral. I was about to hex a staircase. I thought a ghost ate her. I—"
She cut herself off before she completely embarrassed herself beyond repair. Too late. Damage done.
Embarrassment was one thing. She was still fighting the urge to shake the book from her spine and "HOW DARE YOU RUN AWAY FROM ME?!' her into the next century. It would probably be followed by a "I'M SO SORRY I'LL NEVER MISPLACE YOU AGAIN"
Pam dragged a shaky hand across her face and inhaled deeply, trying to stabilize herself. Her heart was still doing the samba.
"Thank you," she said, quieter now, but sincere. Really sincere. "Seriously. You saved my life. And my sanity. And possibly my relationship with my dad."
Then Sophie said the words.
Try to be more careful with it next time.
Pam’s entire soul aggressively flinched like she’d been struck by a Bludger made of embarrassment.
"I WAS careful," Pam blurted immediately, then winced. "I mean— I tried— I usually am— I just— I had a long day and I was tired and my brain was like ‘haha what if we ruin your whole life today’ and it just— slipped."
She rubbed her face again, groaning softly at her own existence.
"Ugh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier. I was just… panicking. A lot. Like, unhealthy amounts of panicking."
She peeked up at Sophie through her hair.
The girl was… smiling at her?
Even after Pam acted like a feral raccoon?
Weird.
Nice.
Weirdly nice.
Nicely weird.
"…Thanks again," she muttered, hugging the book protectively. “Really."
Then— just barely— she added:
"And uh… I'm Pam."
Because apparently today she was doing the socialising thing after all.
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"I'd rather be heartless, than have my heart in pieces"
-Calming Presence- The Muggle Condition
iNPC: Hikari Fujimoto