Life had slowed considerably for Rebecca since the end of school term, reduced to a hazy blur of memory. His muggle friends and family were, of course, utterly delighted at his long-awaited return and hungry for stories about 'the new private school' he was attending. He dodged their questions with ease and smoothly redirected their attention to... safer topics of gossip. It wasn't hard for Rebecca to lie through his teeth, and soon enough even the nosiest of his little cousins had gotten bored of asking and moved on.

A few weeks had now passed, and he'd more or less settled into a new routine. Both of his parents were away at work in Diagon Alley for most of the day, which left Rebecca up to his own devices the majority of the time. If he was bored he'd take the Knight Bus over to visit his uncle, or faff about in the Alley. In the evenings he and his sister made dinner, Dad would bring home whatever treat he managed to snag from the Leaky Cauldron, and they'd spend the rest of the night together watching re-runs of old movies or playing a competitive game of Exploding Snap. It was relaxing, certainly, but the more time passed the more Rebecca's skin was starting to itch with the need to be doing more. It was this vague restlessness that had led him to Flourish and Blotts on the hunt for old newspapers, books on contemporary history and hidden knowledge. His S.C.A.R.A.B. research thus far hadn't gotten him any closer to definitive information on the Christmas Eve explosion, but he had cobbled together an exhaustive scrapbook filled with relevant Headliner and Prophet clippings. His own personal notes were crammed in the margins; what's the deal with thaddeus athanatos? train attack. ask an older student? was the half-giant spokesperson: mathias mulrain? or perhaps someone different.

Rebecca slipped through the narrow doorway, a bell tingled merrily as soon as the door shut behind him. He gave the man staffing the checkout desk a friendly wave before ducking further into the shop. He eyed a stack of old Daily Prophets, but nothing of their headlines caught his interest. He'd already read through the majority of the store's stock, anyhow. Instead, he opted to resume the search for The Invisible Book of Invisibility. A rare find, not because it was particularly valuable, but since the book itself was-- well. Invisible. The staff had lost track of where it was stored, and Rebecca's best bet was to locate it by feeling around the shelves for any suspicious items (and try not to get his fingers bitten off by a stray Monster Book of Monsters in the process). He pulled up a ladder and stuck his arms elbow-deep into one of the top shelves of the "i" section.

Wearing: fancy pureblood rubbish | Changing dialog colour to not be confused with Loops. Old -> New

Live’s grandparents had picked her up from the commune for a short trip to Diagon Alley, and the only thing they’d intended to buy from Flourish & Blotts was Grade 2 of Miranda Goshawk’s series, but several fascinating cookbooks kept them there for much longer than planned. Grandad picked out another book, held it by the front cover, and gave it a shake like he expected something to fall out of the pages; Grandma pulled at the back cover so that the book ended face up.

Live was staring at someone across the store. Rebecca Loops, from her year, whom she was vaguely familiar with because while Sadie was gone and Mirren was answering her with one word responses, she eavesdropped on the conversations of the others at the Slytherin table. Their conversations were hard to follow because she wasn’t used to so many people talking so animatedly, but what she gleaned from it was that Rebecca was heroic, kind, willing to teach, and willing to learn. With a ladder in tow, Rebecca passed the G section. It fit his character that he wasn’t in the bookstore to just buy a mandated textbook and was instead doing impressive, productive things such as reading as a hobby.

She checked in on her grandparents to make sure they were still there and felt a rush of joy upon seeing that Grandma was looking at her. Grandma released her half of the cover to reach behind Grandad and pat Live’s shoulder. “That your friend?”

“He’s dressed like a mudblood,” Grandad noted.

They watched Rebecca disappear behind a pile of books tall enough to hide the ladder as well. Live really wanted him to come back out, which was kind of cruel to her grandparents, that she missed a stranger when they were right next to her. She used the fact that she hadn’t yet given them an adequate response as an excuse to stop thinking about it. Hoping that the mess in her head had left a sufficiently judgmental expression on her face, she said, “I’ll go tell him off.”

“Oh, is he not one?” Grandma asked, like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.

“We’ll be right here when you get back, dear.” Grandad let the book fall, loudly, so he could ruffle Live’s hair without letting go of Grandma’s hand.

Live nodded and strode away from them dignifiedly. To her relief, Rebecca reappeared as she walked around the pile. She looked over her shoulder for her grandparents. They promised they wouldn’t go anywhere. Actually, maybe it’s this pile of books that’s causing all of these problems, and they’re right where she left them, and also it made sense that she couldn’t see them from here because that’s what she left them to remedy in the first place, her inability to see Rebecca. And then she realized this would let her get to Rebecca faster because if she can’t see them, they can’t see her either. She careened towards Rebecca and tripped over her feet, with the bookshelf stopping her trajectory. She hastily put all her limbs back in their places and righted herself.

He was still so far away even though her toes were millimeters away from the bottom of the ladder. There was another ladder nearby, but getting it would be counterproductive because in order to do so she’d have to leave Rebecca. And the distance wasn’t all that bad, anyway; it made the idea of eye contact less frightening. She looked up at him and called out, “Rebecca! Hi.”

They weren’t friends. If they’d spoken before, Live couldn’t recall it, and she doubted her gaucheness made her memorable. But a twisted, fake it ‘til you make it brand of arrogance lead her to imitate the kind of flowing voice friends used around each other.

She took a few paces back and to the side, trying to make the distance between them feel smaller by changing the angle. “Do you want help? You might not, but I think you should and here’s why: I have hands too.” Not that competent of a mind controlling of them, but by virtue of her physical properties she still should be able to contribute something. Ah, wait, friends also smile at each other. As she repositioned her features, that awful rasp slipped back into her voice, and in hopes of distracting him while she got her voice back on track, she followed suit and stuck her hand in a gap between the books, much too fast, which she rectified by jerking it out and moving it back in more carefully. What was she supposed to be feeling for, anyway? “If it’s fragile I won’t break it. I can search the bottom shelves and move your ladder.”

Somewhere along the way she’d stopped looking at Rebecca. She forced her eyes back, maintaining the smile, and waited for permission.

@Rebecca Loops

@Live Makela

Rebecca turned at the sound of his name, looking down to see a girl around his age standing by the foot of the ladder. No one he recognized (to his immediate chagrin) but he didn't want to appear rude for forgetting her name. Fake it 'till you make it, or so they say. "Hey!" he replied, giving her a grin and a quick wave.

He adjusted so that he could sit facing outwards with two hands braced on the topmost rung. The posture was casual and inviting, but his mind was racing with a thousand possibilities trying to place when they might've met. Definitely not a new muggleborn, considering the posh way she dressed. Probably from Hogwarts then-- but she can't be older than thirteen, so someone from his year? Not a Slytherin, surely he would've recognized anyone from there... was she in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff?

The girl in question stepped forward a little. She seemed so stiff and nervous; he couldn't help but try and give an encouraging look. "Yeah?" he prodded gently.

“Do you want help? You might not, but I think you should and here’s why: I have hands too.” She held them up, as if to demonstrate.

Aw, he thought, suppressing a smile. It's adorable.

She stuck her hands into the nearest shelf, almost causing a stack to topple over before she quickly adjusted and tried again. Her dark eyes darted back up to meet his own (bemused) gaze and she stretched her lips into an awkward smile. “If it’s fragile I won’t break it. I can search the bottom shelves and move your ladder," she continued, voice cracking a little as she once again glanced away.

Rebecca just shrugged. "Nah, don't sweat it. I was trying to find an invisible book, but it's a bit of a tricky job, as you could probably imagine." He adjusted his grip and started stepping down the ladder as he spoke. Once he got closer to the ground he jumped, landing on his feet with a little thump.

"Nevermind all that, how's your summer been? And--" there was nothing for it, he'd drawn a complete blank "could you remind me what your name is? Sorry, I'm terrible with faces." Not really true, but sometimes being nice was better than being honest.

"Ah, Live! Hufflepuff, right? What brings you to Diagon Alley?" He tilted his head and grinned in a way that he hoped was disarming. "No need to be nervous, I won't bite," he added.