|Scene Title||Little People|
|Synopsis||Miniature adults socialize in Flourish and Blotts, and new friends(?) are made.|
|Date||July 12, 1994|
|Watch For||FONNY ACCENT|
Flourish and Blotts
Flourish and Blotts is the premiere bookstore for all wizarding needs in London. Towards the end of summer, this is the only shop where Hogwarts students can purchase their required texts for their studies. Bookshelves fill up most of this room, from floor to ceiling and are jam packed with volumes ranging in size from that of a postage stamp to a paving stone. The contents of the books are as varied if not more than their sizes. Tomes range from the harmless to some that could burn out the eyes of the reader. Why on earth that would be for sale is anybody's guess, but there you have it. The books seem to be arranged by their subject matter by the harried shop keeper and assistants.
The summer afternoon in Diagon Alley is as warm and as inviting as any other, with fluffy clouds in the skies and a steady stream of all manners of people in and out of the street. Flourish and Blotts in particular has been busy as of late, due to the presence of Hogwarts students all seemingly coming in nearest the term date to get textbooks. Procrastination is a fine point of being a teenager, you see.
Already in the shop lined from top to bottom with books, is one little figure that does not seem very perturbed by any jostling going on around him as a small family gathers up their materials to go. Long hair curling down over the back of a finely made gray cloak, Rene stands almost against a tower of shelves with his hands holding onto a book that might look as if he would be liable to drop it if distracted. A heavy thing, with thick leather binding. Seemingly alone as well, the boy absently moves out of the way when the store patrons crowd him; this is a waiting game for the French boy- waiting for the best moment to swoop in and buy his stack of first year texts.
Sorrel sits up on a rung of a rolling ladder, above the jostle of the crowd below. This is so that she can peruse the rather large book open on her lap, which she flips through, in between bouts of looking up and around the shop. When she spots something interesting, which seems to happen at least every few minutes, a small leather-bound notebook is pulled out from where she has it tucked in beside her, and an self-inking quill used to jot down a quick note. "There's more room to stand over there," she comments, down to the tiny boy who's most recently caught her eye. Her tone is slightly that of a know-it-all, as she gestures towards a little space between a couple of dusty shelves.
Oh joy. People. And so many! Nessa is but one, struggling to weave between taller sorts who simply take no notice of her; she certainly doesn't look to be above simply shoving one or two out of the way, by the panicced cries of an older boy who got too close to the boxed in young girl and found himself suddenly shoved at chest height, toppling him in surprise. Rather than apologize or offer to help him pick up his books, Nessa merely pushes past and heads over — conveniantly toward Rene and the perched Sorrel. Not that she regards them with any familiarity — she has, after all, no idea whom they are. They simply aren't of a height where they'll walk into her, which pleases Nessa sufficiently.
Craning his head upwards towards that voice apparently addressing him, Rene peers past the edge of his hair at Sorrel. At first it does not look like he heard her, but soon enough he is sidestepping into that cozy little spot that adults could not possibly fit into. He even still has a view of the store, plus just a glance up would afford him another look at the helpful girl.
As Nessa nears the shelves surrounding him, Rene allows his eyes to find the other tiny frame. He has been also methodically examining the smallest kids coming in and out- just to see if they might be in his year by the books they purchase. While Hogwarts is not a place he is wanting to go, it is always best to keep tabs on ones peers, is it not?
"You're welcome," Sorrel offers back down to the tiny lad after he's moved. But she doesn't seem too put out by his silence, instead digging out her notebook to make another note about him, no doubt. She's just looking up from that when she spots Nessa weaving through the crowds, and decides she also seems interesting enough for a note of her own, which gets jotted down.
Though small enough for the older students to ram into, Nessa is mercifully at least not as small as Rene, especially being a girl — in that time of age where girls sprout over the boys to at least some degree. And so as she comes close, she sort of.. looms over him as she eyes him with a faint curiosity in her dark eyes, her head craning forward just a little. How peculiar! So tiny. But her eyes are averted before too long, glancing up once more upon Sorrel's perch, to which she quirks an eyebrow when she notices the other girl has started writing something after spying her.
The only real response that Nessa's peering gets her is when Rene knits both eyebrows together and aims them up at her. He would probably reprimand her verbally, but seeing as his voice is small and the store is loud, it would be lost on the moment. So instead, he just stares back and lifts his chin ever so slightly. Perhaps to accentuate his displeasure, the boy hefts the book in his hands a bit higher, but just enough to be able to watch over the top edge.
Sorrel finishes her note and then looks back down at the two little ones beneath her, leaning forward over her notes to give them both another proper look. "Hi," she calls back down after a moment, growing tired of the silence. Silence is boring. You can't learn anything from it! "Are you here to buy books?" Inquiring minds want to know. Though why they want to know remains to be seen. But there doesn't seem to be anything malicious about the question, just curious and perhaps a little forward.
"Yes," Nessa replies, her voice quick and curt — quick to speak as she must, but with clearly no love of the sport, so to speak. She keeps her eyes on Sorrel for several moments before Rene's defensive book-lifting catches her attention out of the corner of one eye.. she turns once more to look at the young boy, staring for several moments with her dark gaze. She then suddenly lifts one hand — which slowly but determinedly reaches out to try to grab at the edge of Rene's book, and push it down lower. Personal space? What's that?
Rene lilts up an answer too, somewhat muffled by the presence of his book. "Oui. Pour des 'ogwarts." Since when was English required in England? When Nessa reaches out to push the tome out of his frame, both tiny hands swing the book shut with a loud, papery, BANG, just missing her fingers. The blond boy bristles around the edges, but that moment fades in a few seconds of glaring the girl down. When he opens his mouth again, it is in a very thick, French accent. "Ce qui? Why must you keep staring? …ees not 'ard to look away, merci beaucoup." British Children. FFf.
"You're going to Hogwarts? Me too," Sorrel chimes in from above, though the sudden spirited interaction from the other two actually manages to shut her up for a moment. Huh. Okay then. "You're not from Britain though," she goes on after a moment. "Are you from France? How come you're going to Hogwarts? And why do you keep staring?" is offered all in one steady stream without a break, though obviously, different questions are meant for different people.
Despite the sudden slamming of the book closed, Nessa's fingers don't flinch — though after all is said and done, they do begin to slowly coil inward against her palm. She lowers her hand back down as she quietly listens ot the flurry of FONNY ACCENT, and she continues to stare the boy down just as she had. In fact, she barely seems to register Sorrel's question — until she answers, at first still keeping her eyes on Rene, then slowly turning her head to glance at the other girl. "I simply never expected to see someone so tiny here." She replies, in a quiet voice — perhaps she's misjudged Rene's age a bit.
The questions from Sorrel strike a rather sore and still raw spot for Rene, and he doesn't answer anything the entire way until Nessa replies to Sorrel about him. Still standing here, Hello? "Speak for yourself." His Rs trawling, As lengthening, and jaw setting, blue eyes fix themselves on the girl in front of him. "I am from France, an'I did not want to come to 'Ogwarts. I was going to go to Beauxbatons Academie, wit'my sister- until we moved." As the boy progresses, he seems to get more and more sour. "Now I am 'ere to get zee books for your silly 'Ogwarts- parce que de mon pere."
Here, have some more FONNY.
"Did you know that the national anthem of France was actually written in Strasbourg, even though it's called 'La Marseillaise'," Sorrel replies helpfully to all this French sulking going on below her. "It wasn't written in Marseille at all." Fascinating, isn't it? "How come you don't want to go to Hogwarts? What's so different about Beauxbatons? Or is it only because your sister goes there?" The questions don't ever really pause. She glances over at Nessa then, considering her in turn. "So are you at Hogwarts too? I'm only going into first year. I'm not sure what to expect." And that bothers her a little, not having the facts about it.
At the tirade of fonny accented words and French, Nessa simply listens quietly — and at Sorrel's more direct question toward her, she sharply darts her eyes over to the other girl. "Mm." She murmurs with a confirming upstroke and then a downstroke of her voice, as if that were a sufficient answer. Regarding the inquisitive girl for a few more moments, Nessa glances back toward Rene and then quickly speaks. "So, you don't have any friends?" She asks, in a rather neutral tone; she doesn't seem to be implying anything, but it certainly could be an accusatory question if it were in another tone of voice.
"Generations of my family 'ave gone to Beauxbatons. I was not about to change dat." Rene cuts himself off with rather good restraint now, not wanting to go on about how much he likes France more than Scotland, or how Hogwarts cannot possibly be a good school because of its primitive nature. So far, this country has not found a very warm place in his heart. "I will find a way to go back to France." Is his answer to Nessa, implying that despite his being here in Blotts, before the train comes he will be on another trip back home and does not need friends- why bother when you are not going to stay long? Somewhere, in his little preteen mind, he can do it. Woe be to him when he finds himself on the Hogwarts Express. Then he's going to need some friends.
Sorrel gives Nessa a longer look, clearly a little frustrated at her lack of extended answer. Still, it's enough to get another note written down in her book - or maybe that's regarding the little French one and his response. It's hard to tell, since she gives them both furtive looks as she scribbles with practised ease. "How are you going to get back to France? Do you have a portkey?" She's honestly curious. "Or maybe you learned how to fly a broomstick already?"
"I'll be your friend, then." Nessa replies, as if she'd simply chosen to hear only the parts of Rene's reply that she wished to hear. There is a faint sternness in her quiet voice. Sorrel, however, is given another regard of her dark eyes — and then she speaks again. "Rather, we'll be your friends." She corrects, appanarently volunteering Sorrel for the duty without asking; the serious expression her young face certainly doesn't look as if she's about to ask the other girl's opinion on the idea.
"Oui." Was that for the portkey or broomstick? Either way, the answer at least lets both of them know once more that maybe the little guy is bigger than his size.
But the next part? With the next part he simply stares back at Nessa, one brow lifted in question. Little Angry Fellow is not a very good first impression for anything, even trying to avoid making nice. A sigh escapes Rene's chest, passing out through his nose. He closes his eyes and looks about to rub at the bridge of his nose, however that never comes. Perhaps he does realize that the first questions only served to make him look a bit obnoxious.
"Tres bien." Very well. "If you want to be."
Sorrel looks over at Nessa with some surprise. They will? But she has to admit, the idea of friends isn't entirely objectionable, even if these two are pretty weird (as opposed to her exceedingly well-balanced and normal self, of course). "Yeah, all right," she agrees. There's another quick note jotted down and underlined twice: 'Friends', and then she snaps her notebook shut, though the quill remains out for the moment. "What are your names?" She's pretty sure that helps with the whole 'being friends' thing. She must have read about it once.
With that matter settled, Nessa's head turns toward Sorrel, and she manages a slow, wirey smile — it might even be a little.. creepy, were it taken out of context. "Nessa Elis." She replies quietly, before darting her eyes over toward Rene; after all, she has no idea who this person that she just declared she's going to be the friend of is either. Then again, those meant for Gryffindor aren't always known for their forethought and planning, save a few special cases.
Maybe this won't be so bad. They're both harmless girls, right? Rene holds that big book under one arm, using his other hand to pull his pale hair back from bunching at the neck of his little cloak; it falls down over a shoulder now instead, curling down his front. "Rene D'Allemagne." He answers and bends slightly at the waist to give off the supposed aura of trying to be more polite than he had been.
"All right. Nessa Elis. Rene D'Allemagne," Sorrel repeats, as though she's filing this away instead of writing it down. "And I'm Sorrel Hazard. So at least there's that done." She glances out over the store, but since no one's come looking for her yet, she figures she's safe to keep bonding with her new friends. "You're from France," she notes of Rene, so then, to Nessa: "Where are you from?"
"England." Nessa replies briefly, as if it weren't already pretty damned obvious. Seems she isn't one to easily spill information! Her reply is given without looking toward Sorrel, as Rene receives a faintly curious, intense peering for several moments — but she does eventually turn and look up toward the other girl, though her expression isn't exactly one of inquiring whether her answer was sufficient.
"Ees nice to meet you." Just barely still in between the shelves, Rene looks past Nessa as she looks away from him. There is an obvious opening over at the counter, and before Nessa has time to say 'Confugio', Rene has slipped out the crack past her and makes his way up to the front of the counter. Nessa Elis, Sorrel Hazard. He will remember them easily enough, so hopefully they'll not bother him while he stands on his toes to say something to the man behind the store desk.
While he leans back to grab onto a tied stack of textbooks, Rene first takes that leatherbound book in both hands to set it up on the counter(it takes him an extra second or three), then proceeds to dig around inside of his cloak.
Sorrel gives Nessa flat look in return as she again refuses to be more forthcoming in her answers. "Fine. Nessa Elis of England," she replies wearily, as if to say, 'if that's the way you want it'. "Right, yeah, you too," is offered a little more spiritedly to Rene, though Sorrel is a little surprised as he makes his break for it. She doesn't leave her ladder though, or make any attempt to stop him. Instead, the notebook is opened again so these new developments can be noted.
Simply standing there, Nessa glances over and watches as Rene escapes. Turning back toward Sorrel, she faintly lifts her eyebrows and stares at the other girl for a few moments. ".. I suppose I should get my things and go." She murmurs quietly, slowly lidding her eyes half-way as she does. "I'll see you again when school starts." She offers toward Sorrel, slowly lifting her hand for a subtle wave.
Out of Rene's pockets comes money, and a seemingly empty pack. However, when he opens said pack, and the books begin going inside- it is clear that the bag is enchanted. It does not bloat in size, and does not seem to get much heavier. After buying his textbooks plus that hefty volume, Rene slings the pack back up under his cloak. As a final gesture, he offers a flickeringly bright smile to the other first years, and a little wave to both before the little boy slips back out of Flourish and Blotts.
Sorrel returns Rene's wave, offering him a little grin of her own, hers a little more cheeky than bright, but sincere nonetheless. It doesn't entirely fade as it comes back to Nessa, though she's still a little sore about the difficulty of getting a straight answer. "All right. They have some extra copies of the Charms textbook over there, if they're running low at the front," she advises, pointing helpfully to another corner of the store. "The younger one put the box down about half an hour ago, and forgot about it. I'll see you at start of term."