We're Stars And We're Beautiful ** (OPEN)

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open !
<3

Rachel took a small stroll outside of the Ministry on her lunch break, just wanting fresh air. All of the changes going on were crazy, but they were good as well. Even having the Tournament at Hogwarts was enjoyable for most people as well as the staff at The Ministry. Having most of her Aurors stationed there wasn't a terrible thing, but thankfully a few of them along with the Hit Witches and Wizards were taking on more than their fair share for the regular duties they had to uphold.

She stopped at a small bench and took a seat, crossing her legs. It was a bit chilly out, considering it was still January, but she enjoyed the cold sometimes. Rachel wasn't usually one to enjoy being outside, especially in the Winter time. When she became so cold that she shivered was a sign to go back inside, but as of right now, the heat from The Ministry was enough to drag her out into the cold air.

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Most of the time, Barbara's concept of “London” was confined to the magical areas of the city: Diagon Alley, Horizont Alley, and then, she supposed, the actual structure of the Ministry. That was the London to which she had become accustomed, the one in which she was still living and working and trying to move onwards and upwards in her life for her two teenagers. And it was because of that latter aspect that Barbara found herself back at Whitehall.

She considered herself lucky that she was enough of a “Muggle” by background to blend in amongst the non-magical population, though the amount of people coming and going in business attire mixed strangely with the tourists who had only been in the vicinity to take a look at the Horse Guards Parade or 10 Downing Street.

Still, there was a downside to the Statute of Secrecy. With so many people who had to appear, at least, to be non-magical when in the presence of anyone who didn't know about the magical world that existed around them, it made it awfully difficult to find anyone who could help her once she had gotten turned around. The last time she had visited the Ministry—that time, to speak with Padma Patil-Thomas about even being able to remain in the country—she could have sworn that the visitors' entrance had been just a few steps away.

Spotting a woman seated on a bench, Barbara approached her. Magical or not, she would at least know if there was a red phone booth around. “Excuse me,” she began, not wanting to take up too much of her time, “but do you know if there's a phone booth—telephone box—whatever you call it here around?” It wasn't as though the phone booth was the only one in the city, so Barbara quickly realized that she was going to have to get creative with her explanation. “A specific one. I think I left my purse in it, and I know it wasn't far from here,” she told her. She couldn't exactly say that she had left her phone there, of course; that defeated the purpose of (supposedly) needing to use a public one. “It was older,” she added, “maybe in need of a few repairs.”

Hopefully, the other woman wouldn't think that she had lost her mind. Most people's—or most women's, anyway—lives were in their purses, though Barbara was glad that she had chosen not to carry one. It made sense why she would want to “find” hers.

@jill17

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@barbara
<3

Her thought process was halted when a blonde woman approached her. Rachel turned to face her more, her expression curious as the woman spoke. She wasn't aware of who she was, yet for some reason she looked fairly familiar. The girl was asking for a phone booth, a specific one, and her eyes narrowed. This was unusual. She couldn't mean the one that Rachel immediately thought of, but she knew of more than a few telephone booths around this area that she could direct her to.

"Well I hope there weren't a lot of valuables in your purse, you might not find it wherever you go looking." Rachel gave a small apologetic smile. "There's a few around you could look at. One is two streets over, another about five stores down, and one right over there." Rachel sat up and pointed her finger about thirty feet away to where a red telephone booth stood. "I hope you can find that purse."

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The woman to whom she had spoken expressed her hope that she hadn't had anything valuable in her purse, saying that she “might not find it” now.

“It's fine,” Barbara said, knowing that she needed to stick to her story while also avoiding making it so believable that the other woman thought that the situation was dire. “I didn't have much important in it, anyway.”

The woman gave her a number of options, though running around the block and trying to figure out which phone booth actually possessed magical properties—without risking using magic in the presence of non-magical people in the process—would take a while. Besides, if she got turned around at all, Barbara knew that she stood a chance of going back to the same one twice, making it that much more time-consuming to find the right one.

Barbara was sure that the woman had said that there was one “just over there”, however, which drew her interest. “Thanks. Just over… that way?” she asked for confirmation, gesturing in the same direction in which the other woman had. She turned her head then, realizing that it was really just a few steps from where they were.

“Merlin,” she laughed at herself under her breath. If that was the right one, she hoped that the woman who had given her the directions wasn't a witch, because she certainly felt stupid.

@jill17

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@barbara
<3

Rachel couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the woman. She seemed to have no issue about the missing purse, which was unusual. Normally most women would be frantic, having tons of things in there. That was, unless you didn't own a purse. But especially since it's the place you'd keep your money, Rachel had a weird feeling. "Nothing important? No money or anything?"

When she asked about the phone booth that was only a few steps away, and then looked to see it herself, Rachel frowned, but nodded her head. "Yes." Though, that wasn't the phone booth that led to the Ministry, it was just some old one that plenty of muggles actually used. Being a muggleborn herself, Rachel knew the differences between regular ones and the one that was magical. "Hope you find it!"

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“Nothing important? No money or anything?”

“Well, it's nothing I can't replace,” Barbara laughed softly, praying that it sounded natural enough. If she had really lost a purse with the few things of value that she had in it, she would have been distraught. This stranger, helpful though she was, didn't need to know that, however. As far as this story of hers went, Barbara knew that she could be anyone or anything, as long as she could maintain her consistency with it.

The woman confirmed the direction of the phone booth and said that she hoped that Barbara would find it there. It only took Barbara a few paces in that direction to recognize that the phone booth wasn't the right one, but no No-Maj was going to be so peculiar about a phone booth without looking inside of it for confirmation that what she wanted wasn't there.

Nothing but a phone and some flyers that littered the ground inside of it.

She walked back empty-handed, feeling fortunate to see that the woman hadn't gotten up yet. “Not there,” she informed her. “Maybe if I retrace my steps…” she spoke aloud, getting an idea. “There was a public restroom—public toilet—loo—nearby…” The employees of the Ministry used that one and not the phone booth; she knew that from Art. Maybe that would put her closer.

@jill17

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@barbara
<3

Rachel nodded her head slowly at the girl and watched her walk over to the booth that was closest to them. She went inside, shockingly enough to Rachel. But the girl came back out. Her purse wasn't in there. Maybe she was a muggle. Rachel found it weird that she was asking for a specific phone booth when there were tons around in London. Though she wasn't about to give anything away to her. Except for the fact that if the girl went in and never came back out, it was quite obvious what she was looking for.

"I'm sorry it wasn't in there. All I can say is keep looking, or just don't stress since there wasn't anything important?" So far this woman hadn't given Rachel any clues to her being magical, and Rachel made sure to do the same thing. "Retracing your steps might work as well, though I'm not sure how much more help I'll be for you."

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“I'm sorry it wasn't in there. All I can say is keep looking, or just don't stress since there wasn't anything important?”

That was one thought, Barbara considered, though who lost their purse and then decided that not going to the trouble of finding it was easier than remaining on the hunt for it? She was sure that it would raise more than a few red flags with the woman who had been trying to help her, and she didn't want her to go to the trouble of calling the police to report a lost handbag that had never existed.

“Retracing your steps might work as well, though I'm not sure how much more help I'll be for you.”

All that she needed was to find the phone booth. If she could keep that in mind, she thought, she would find it sooner or later. “There was a loo there,” Barbara repeated, the British term sounding strange as it came from her lips. “I don't think I left it there…” There must have been some other landmark around! She tried to sound as though she was talking to herself.

“You see,” Barbara explained to the woman, “I actually have a meeting at the M—” She couldn't dare to blow her own cover, but she still didn't know if she was speaking to someone who was magical or non-magical. “At the Ministry of Defence,” she lied, thanking the Lord that its headquarters were in the non-magical Whitehall.

Barbara placed more emphasis on “Ministry” than normal, knowing that she had heard very few people refer to the magical government by its full name; it was always just “the Ministry”. Hopefully, if the woman wasn't magical, she would just believe it to have been some quirk in her manner of speaking. Unless there was some signal for needing to find the visitors' entrance to a building that existed entirely underground and out of sight of the No-Maj community, dropping hints was all that she knew to do.

@jill17

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@barbara
<3

Rachel's eyes narrowed as she mentioned a loo. It was unusual hearing it from this woman, as her accent was American. That's also what was confusing her even more, as she put the emphasis on the word Ministry. Rachel supposed if she said anything she shouldn't have, a simple obliviation charm would do. Not that's what she wanted, but from all of the things this woman was saying, it seemed all too unusual that she'd try to hard just with one person if she was just looking for a purse instead of actually looking for it.

Rachel sat back more and crossed her arms. "If it's the Ministry I think you're looking for, you've got to remember exactly where you're going. You really can't speak this way to any random person." Shaking her head and rubbing her eyes, she looked back up at the woman. "What's your name?" Maybe Rachel would get somewhere with that. Like why an American was looking for the British Ministry.

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“If it's the Ministry I think you're looking for,” said the woman, “you've got to remember exactly where you're going. You really can't speak this way to any random person.”

Barbara knew that trying to identify a magical person from a non-magical one in the non-magical community was a slippery slope, but any random No-Maj on the street wouldn't have known that there was any other Ministry but the Ministry of Defence, either. (Granted, most of the meetings that happened there probably weren't too publicized, in the interest of national security of the non-magical variety…) By the other woman's chastising her for what she had said, she was certain that she had to have found another witch.

“What's your name?”

“Barbara,” Barbara answered, her voice more assured now that she didn't have to keep up her purse story as a cover. “Barbara Linley. I'm American, but I live here, and my kids go to school here.” Mentioning that her husband had also died while working as a Hit Wizard for the British Ministry probably wasn't the best way to introduce herself, she thought.

@jill17

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@barbara
<3

Rachel's eyes narrowed just a tad as the woman introduced herself as Barbara Linley. That name sounded very familiar, and Rachel knew why. Linley, that had been a Hit Wizard in her Department. He had died not too long ago, but Rachel wasn't sure how this woman was related. She looked older, and if her assumption was right, this must be his wife. Recalling if he had ever actually spoke her name was too difficult, so she just decided to ask. "Are you related to a Mr. Arthur Linley by any chance?"

Hopefully by asking this, the woman wouldn't be so worrisome as to what she said around Rachel. She of course was American; Rachel had heard plenty of their accents in her lifetime. Arthur was American as well, and while she didn't think Linley was a very common name, they had to be related. Rachel just sat back, her eyebrows raised as she awaited Barbara's answer.

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“Are you related to a Mr. Arthur Linley by any chance?”

The woman had known of Art, at least. Barbara knew that she shouldn't have been surprised to hear his name mentioned, but it still felt as though there were some degree of transience to their being in Britain. They weren't from Britain, and, somewhere within her, there still lingered a fear that her daughter's vision of their leaving was going to come true.

Hearing his name gave her something—a reminder that she and her husband hadn't been overlooked in this place that wasn't fully theirs. His funeral had been small, mostly because it would have been far too costly to hold anything elaborate. But that didn't mean that Art hadn't—even for that short time—made some impact on the Ministry.

“He was my husband,” Barbara answered, her voice turning soft and markedly solemn. She was proud, too, but looked down and blinked before she could shed any tears. “Did you know him?”

@jill17

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@barbara
<3

Rachel could tell she hit a nerve with the woman. She looked very upset at the thought of him, and Rachel assumed she was correct in her being related to the man. And as she answered, it gave the younger an opening to knowing she could speak about their world with Barbara. Arthur had been her husband; Rachel had only known Arthur somewhat, not enough to know his life story but enough that she knew of his wife and children.

She smiled genuinely at Barbara and nodded her head slowly. "I did, yes. He worked in my Department. I'm the Deputy Head." Rachel felt deeply for her; Rachel wasn't in any sort of relationship but she had love interests in the past. She couldn't imagine living a life with two children and a dead husband. However this woman seemed to be doing alright.

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“I did,” said the younger woman. She had known him. “He worked in my Department. I'm the Deputy Head.”

Barbara tried not to look shocked that the woman to whom she was speaking was in such a high-ranking position at her age; she must have been ten years younger than she. Their Minister of Magic had been even younger—young enough that she was the older sister of her daughter's boyfriend—but Barbara had assumed that to be the exception and not the rule. She didn't mind at all; it just wasn't something that she was used to seeing.

“Well,” said Barbara, who was feeling slightly embarrassed for the runaround that she had begun, “it's a pleasure to meet you.” She was certain that she had heard the name of the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement before, but it didn't come to her right away. It was alliterative; she remembered that much…

The first name that came to her mind didn't sound right. Rachel Randolph. She must have been mixing things up, because the younger woman before her couldn't have been Rachel Randolph. That was the name of one of Elvis Presley's grandchildren, but most of his family had left the spotlight years before, ducking the paparazzi. Then, Barbara suddenly remembered having seen something on the cover of a magazine about Elvis's daughter's murder… in Britain.

She was running late for a meeting, and she was fabricating memories from some years before? Barbara was certain that she had begun to lose her mind. It couldn't have been a coincidence, though. It felt like the same gut instinct that she had felt when working on a case—the feeling that there was something there. There was more than met the eye.

“I… don't mean to sound so…” Creepy? Intrusive? If she was who she thought she was, Barbara thought that Rachel must have dealt with some crazed fans before because of her grandfather's fame. “But are you… Rachel Randolph?” she asked, her voice not quite to a whisper but knowing that it might not have been something that she wanted out in the open.

@jill17

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@barbara
<3

Rachel gave the woman a decent smile. She knew not many people knew her that well, considering she was only the Deputy Head, a Muggleborn, and quite young. So the shock she got from Barbara's expression wasn't anymore surprising than all the other people she introduced herself to. "It's nice to meet you as well, Barbara." Maybe it would be different as she got older, but as of right now, most people who knew her were only Muggles or Muggleborns; considering her grandfather was a famous musician.

Her eyebrow rose as Barbara began to speak, but it just brought a smile out of Rachel. Here they go! The woman asked her name, but very quietly, which was unusual, but Rachel nodded. "I am, yes. I can take it your husband had spoken of me before, or you're aware who my grandfather was?" Her eyebrow stayed a bit higher than normal. Rachel wasn't ashamed of who she was, she loved her grandfather and his music, even if it was much different to this world she had been introduced to as a child.