when your feet don’t touch the ground [Dicky]

[Raphael Caelan McLaggen]

15 January 2028

Okay, normally you wouldn’t catch Cheese dead in a library. He liked to be outside, on his broom with the fresh air and the sunshine, or otherwise in a cramped dark room squinting at his hands and developing his film. There was absolutely no middle ground between the two, really. But the library? That would be forever associated in his mind with homework, and exams, and being shushed by three different Ravenclaws (plus Addy) if he so much as yawned in the middle of a chapter. He’d left that life behind after graduation and usually made it a habit to avoid rooms that required complete silence. And hey, his posture had improved quite a bit since he didn’t have to hunch over books anymore.

But there were a few things about this library that made it more bearable – and dare he say even fun? For starters, you didn’t really feel like you were indoors. More like an endless labyrinth of shelves with books, ancient books, books so ancient they were actually scrolls or tablets, and the occasional podium showing off an artifact encased in glass (which was sometimes a book, but not always). The other nice thing about this library was that it didn’t have as many insane rules as the Hogwarts library. There weren’t many rules about noise, because honestly the chances of you coming across another person in your travels (yeah, travels) to find a book were rather low, so there was nobody peeking over his shoulder to scold him for rustling the pages too loudly or humming under his breath as he popped random books off the shelves to glance them over. They didn’t seem to care much about wands either – not when all the shelves were so heavily enchanted that a spell would probably fizzle out before getting anywhere near.

The third thing that Cheese rather liked about this library was that he knew he’d find exactly what he was looking for eventually – because while the dizzyingly expansive archives of the British magical community wasn’t really enough to turn him into a bookworm, he had friends who were desperate to bust out of LIFE to come here. And he was on a mission today. He kept a loose grip on Dicky’s letter in his hand as Cheese turned a corner, a book tucked under his arm and eyes peeled for the strange runes Dicky had pointed out to him before. The library at Hogwarts seemed miniscule in comparison as Cheese gaped around him – he’d been here for an hour already and only found one book out of the list Dicky had sent in his rather wordy letters. Although Cheese marveled at the owl’s leg strength since each letter seemed longer than a textbook.

Glancing at his watch, Cheese sucked in his breath. Oh yeah, he was going to be so late to Hogsmeade – if Dicky wasn’t waiting for him already. Snatching a random book off the shelf, Rafe hurried through check-out and turned on his heel. He barely took a second to examine his surroundings – or marvel at the fact that he hadn’t been to the village in ages – before ducking into The Three Broomsticks. It took a few scans, but Cheese finally spotted the thin and drawn-in silhouette of his friend in the corner and hurried over, sliding the books onto the table in front of him. “Cheers, mate!” he said as he hastily stuffed Dicky’s letter back into his bag. “You wouldn’t believe how big the place is, took me ages to find the right section.”

Richard Myron Woods-Knox

[Richard Myron Woods-Knox]

blowin' in the wind.

RICHIE HAD SLEPT IN, TOOTHPASTE SMUDGED around the corner of his mouth. His hair flattened on the exact side he'd slept, sticking up so that he had something of a peacock feather to address the common room as he'd streaked through. It had the decency to deflate as he'd skated all the way to Hogsmeade, at least. The wheels had practically smoked as he'd trundled all the way to the cobblestones before getting off, even Richie knew not to skate on cobblestone - urgency aside. It was tucked under a sweaty pit, his jacket hanging off one shoulder scruffily, as he rushed into The Three Broomsticks. Only to discover, upon three thorough scans of the busy little pub, that Cheese hadn't even the wherewithal to be on time himself.

Finding a table near the grimiest window, Richie propped his board on its very own seat. Leaving Cheese with the worst spot, with his back to the place - that'll serve him. He ordered two butterbeers, extra foam just because he knew Cheese preferred it without. And a plate of chips, because he'd slept through breakfast.

In reality, Richie had been waiting impatiently for a friendly visit. He'd never stated it outright, but he missed his friends terribly. They had all left him, and he had been feeling the sting. Richie was terrible at making friends, and it showed in the past year without his usual company. He was lonely, but godforbid he told anybody. It was quite the miracle he'd managed to retain the friends he'd had, but Richie often wondered if that was mostly because they had chosen him, and not the reverse.

Cheese wasn't loud, like Brigh and Addy, so Richie failed to notice him at first. Found with a mouthful of partially chewed chips in his mouth. Salty lips and bulging cheeks that stared mutely up at his old friend as the chair was pulled out and sat upon. Richie took a gulp of butterbeer to clear his mouth, licking the foam and salt from his upper lip as he eyed the books Cheese placed on the table between them. "Y-you got the them all?!" He stuttered, grabbing a napkin and carefully cleaning each of his fingertips before he reached for the haul. "What,,, was it like..?" He asked with an unusual fervor. "You're late." Richie added, unable to stop himself as he inspected his fingers for grease before reaching for the stack. He had an almost mad look in his eyes, bright and a little too wide. 

Raphael Caelan McLaggen

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[Raphael Caelan McLaggen]

Leave it to Dicky to describe the situation exactly as it was. He and Addy both had that habit of being straightforward about what they thought – which was probably why they got along so well – but Addy at least knew how to be somewhat diplomatic about it. Until you got her angry, but that was another ballpark entirely. Dicky, on the other hand, tended to just spit out the cold hard truth like machine gun fire, and in typical Ravenclaw fashion he was usually right. It didn’t stop him from earning a round of glares whenever it happened, but Cheese knew not to take it personally. His eyes drifted down to his foamy butterbeer, a big red stop sign that showed exactly how pissed off Dicky was, and Cheese just grinned sheepishly and nodded his head.

“Check-out took ages, the bloke in front of me tried to take a cursed book and accidentally summoned a griffin.” Cheese shrugged like that was something that happened every day and moved on. He could be easygoing like that. But honestly, he wasn’t sure how much his friend had gotten of the story. Dicky’s eyes had zeroed in on the books from the moment Rafe had set them on the table, and he was eyeing them now like he had half a mind to snatch them and run off and leave Rafe to finish his extra-foam butterbeer alone. “Well,” he said, drawing out the word in response to Dicky’s awed question. “I, er, ran out of time at the end and didn’t get the last one. Got you something else though.”

It was then that he realized he’d never actually checked the title of the book he’d randomly grabbed from the shelf, so Cheese worked it out from the top of the pile and tilted the spine towards him. Planting the Seed of Doubt: The Minutiae of Agriculture-Based Law Practices. Cheese winced at the title – which in itself was boring enough to almost put him to sleep. But he couldn’t account for his friends’ tastes. He’d spent half his life watching Addy buy the dullest-looking books, and then spent most of their later years at Hogwarts buying them for her in the hopes that she might wake up one day and see him differently. So. Maybe Dicky had a secret interest in agriculture-based law and it would all work out.

He watched Dicky ignore his food so he could grab a book, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed – in other words, a Ravenclaw in their natural habitat. Cheese swiped a few chips while he watched his friend do his mad-scientist thing and took the opportunity to look around the familiar pub and reminisce. After a few moments, he broke the silence. “So I got the last letter with all your book requests, but it doesn’t really say how you’re doing,” Rafe pointed out, stuffing the chips in his mouth unceremoniously as he did so. He let the observation dangle, wondering if Dicky was going to talk about himself or, more likely, ignore him and turn back to his book.

Richard Myron Woods-Knox

[Richard Myron Woods-Knox]

blowin' in the wind.

LIKE A LITTLE BOY ON CHRISTMAS, RICHARD WAS enthralled. There was very few perks to being alone at Hogwarts without his old friends. Few perks to losing said friends to the big wide world beyond. Except, of course, the very convenient fact that the friends in question were now adults. And as adults with adult jobs, they had very exclusive access to some very exclusive places. And no, Richie wasn't talking about some hip new club or restaurant. He was talking about The Library.

Unplottable, verging on mythological, it took permits on permits to gain even a half hour in its stacks. Richie had dreamed of the elusive academic wonder since he'd been a boy. Too young and unconnected to gain even a leaflet from it. And trust that he had tried, many times. Had sent owl's hoping for a sympathetic reply with a shred of information, finding that they would simply bounce back a few days later. The owl's haggard and mean from being sent on a fruitless journey. And suddenly, he had an in.

"What..?!" Richie bent forward, wrenched from his seat with eyes glistening in uncharacteristic glee. He could almost picture it, the pages fluttering around the majestic figure of a roaring griffin. He gripped the table edge and almost swayed with joy and jealousy. "I can't believe I missed that." He groaned, dropping back into his seat with the overwhelming disappointment. It only lasted momentarily, his attention drawn back to the books with little control. He delicately took the spines, pulling the stack toward himself with a sort of reverent touch.

He ran a finger down the spines, noting the titles he had requested with a careful consideration. From Beauty of the Arcane to 101 Charms to Mystify the Ages. "I mean, I really shouldn't complain." He told himself mostly, cracking the first spine to inspect the fine library embossing on the title page. "This is the best thing to ever happen to me." He mumbled under his breath, taking a great big huff from the inside of the book. The smell of ancient ink and careful preservation charms giving him a bit of a head rush.

Leaning back, Richie curiously handled the cast off. Cheese's last ditch effort to priorities quantity over quality. Agriculture had never really been his cup of tea, but he still admired its origins nonetheless. "This is a right load of rubbish." He commented with a slight snort, but he still held it as if it were precious. "I'll still read it." He added with a shrug, adding it to the top of the pile with a reluctant little smile. He was flushed with joy and excitement. It was an odd look for him, making Richie appear almost feverishly unwell.

He'd forgotten all about his chips and his butterbeer. Pushed to one side so that Richie could pour over the first few pages of Arcane, noting the addendums and the strange back to front page numbers. Absently, as if speaking from somewhere far away in the distance, Richie noted that Cheese was speaking to him. It took a great effort to shift his attention and he did so with a wrinkled nose, as if it was almost painful, his finger poised over a page.

"Hm...?" He hummed dumbly, before his mind kicked in and he remembered what it was he'd been asked. "Oh- I mean..." Richie cleared his throat and shrugged. "I can just tell you now though." He explained, but it wasn't quite honest enough for him. "I've slept in a lot because my bed mates didn't like me. I eat alone most days and my mind healer is making me tutor to make friends or something." This was said flatly, entirely matter-of-fact. Cheese had asked and Richie had answered. "What about you?"

Raphael Caelan McLaggen

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[Raphael Caelan McLaggen]

Cheese would never understand this morbid fascination with libraries that some of his friends had. Of course, it didn’t stop him from tagging along, but that was more of a deep-rooted desire to please people and not because he’d sell his own mum for a book. But yeah, Addy had always insisted on study dates in the library while they’d been in Hogwarts – which for her had been an opportunity to be ultra-efficient and do multiple things at once. Quality time with the love of her life, and Cheese could tag along too and do his homework while she studied. And then Dicky had started to write him and begged to be brought books from this mystical library with endless stacks of books, and Rafe had also been completely unable to resist his friend’s repeated requests.

He couldn’t deny that the place had an otherworldly feel to it. The Prophet had some sort of established relationship with the mysterious librarians, and that made it easier to get Cheese’s requests for access approved (even if his actual job had nothing to do with books). Even Rafe, who would always choose his broomstick over his homework and choose photography over everything else – okay, even he could see the appeal of this place. He’d gone – what, two or three times now? And every trip had been different from all the others. He’d wandered into sections of the library that felt older than Britain, with books in languages he couldn’t read or printed on such delicate materials that he thought they might turn to dust in his hands. You didn’t have to be a literature buff to appreciate the history of the place.

Dicky all but rubbed his hands together in gleeful mischief as he pulled the books towards him and began to flip through them. Rafe couldn’t help but crack a grin at the simple sentence. This is the best thing to ever happen to me. He probably wasn’t exaggerating either, even if Dicky was prone to fanciful bursts of imaginative genius. But Cheese could still take pleasure from the fact that he’d played some small part in the maniacal grin currently gracing his friend’s face. He vaguely wondered if he’d ever looked so dreamy about something, but he knew the answer to that already. Brígh had complained about it a thousand times before he and Addy had started dating, and he’d gotten worse with time. The new distance between them seemed to have dulled the effects, but that thought only made him frown with regret.

But he forced himself to stay in the moment. He’d been moping over Addy for ages, and he wanted one positive interaction with his friend that wasn’t tinged in nostalgic sadness. Cheese reached for some more fries and he shoved them into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in years as he listened to Dicky’s story. “Sorry mate,” he said as he struggled to chew and swallow. He finally succeeded and thoughtfully sipped on his Butterbeer. “You can write me when that happens, y’know. I like coming to visit, just…when you don’t write me, I don’t want to be a bother.” One of his best strokes of luck had been meeting Brígh and Addy in first year – it meant Cheese had never truly been alone. He wanted to pat Dicky on the back as a source of comfort, but he thought the other boy might bite at his hand if he tried.

So instead he just considered the other boy’s question. How was he? It was complicated, because fine was such a banal word but he didn’t have anything smarter to say. So he just shrugged. “I’ve been traveling quite a bit for the Prophet. Did a shoot in Wales last month. And I’m part of a neighborhood Quidditch league, did I tell you that already? Er, Addy joined too so I’ve seen her around…” He cleared his throat awkwardly and grabbed another fistful of fries. He'd been trying his hardest to move on, like Yas had been encouraging him. It didn't hurt to talk about her the way it had even half a year ago, but it was still an emotionally loaded subject. Rafe had been taking comfort in his friends, in Quidditch, in his photographs -- letting himself enjoy the things he loved instead of dwelling on ancient history. But speaking of... “Miss this place, though. It's different when we're all spread out, y'know? We try to keep in touch, but it's not easy...”

Richard Myron Woods-Knox

[Richard Myron Woods-Knox]

blowin' in the wind.

CHEESE'S 'SORRY' FELL A BIT FLAT IN THE GRAND scheme of things. Not because it wasn't sincere, because Richie doubted his friend could be anything but. It was more because Richie didn't really think it was necessary. He wasn't complaining, so much as informing. The sympathy felt misplaced because of this, but he understood it was almost Cheese's default. Stuffing his mouth with chips to avoid the depths of his sincerity, probably. Richie shrugged his shoulders, an odd little twinge in his gut making him shift uncomfortably.

"I forget." He admitted, shifting his gaze and hugging the pile of books like some kind of talisman. Plus, he was awfully frightened they'd somehow up and disappear. He'd heard a terrible story about somebody who'd requested books from The Library, and the minute he'd touched them with his bare hands, they'd turned into dust. Something about being 'unworthy' apparently. The thought alone was worth a shiver, or two. "I won't be... bothered, though." Richie admitted a bit sheepishly, as if by admitting as much he was revealing how desperately lonely he was at times. "If you just visited, or whatever." He shrugged again, his shoulders stiff.

"The Mystical Museum is in Wales." Richie said abruptly, perking up considerably as he lowered the Arcane text to look at Cheese. "I've got an internship there, for archiving..." Richie felt a bit embarrassed to say as much, avoiding the whole humiliation of 'bragging' as he tucked the textbook closer to himself. "It's supposed to be good." He looked down, letting his eyes eat up a page of tilted, handwritten letters before he shifted his gaze back up.

"You and Addy..." Richie posed tentatively. "You're still... friends?" He asked with a slight scrunch of his nose. He didn't particularly enjoy asking, but it seemed important. Watching Cheese chew as if his life depended on it, Richie wondered if it mattered if Cheese said yes they were. Because, quite obviously, he was having some kind of crisis about the whole ordeal.

When Cheese gestured to the pub around him, Richie took a minute to give it a good look over. As if he could see what it was that Cheese found so sentimental about it. "I suppose... the pub is sort of the same." He muttered distractedly, his pinkie finger running across the leather binding of the book he held in a reverent sort of way. "Hogwarts is... really different." Richie's mouth twisted thoughtfully. "It's almost... nothing like it was... before." Richie frowned into the middle distance, shaking himself out of the reverie absent-mindedly. 

Raphael Caelan McLaggen

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[Raphael Caelan McLaggen]

He’d been avoiding the Butterbeer long enough and it was time to be brave. Cheese tentatively grabbed a napkin and tried to wipe some of the extra foam away, mentally promising himself never to get on Dicky’s bad side again. Ravenclaws could be scary when it came to getting revenge, because a Slytherin might be hasty but they definitely weren’t. They took the time to learn your weaknesses first. He wrinkled his nose slightly and then sipped at the glass until he actually got at some of the Butterbeer – although when he finally pulled back, Cheese could feel the foam mustache he was sporting. “I’ll visit loads more ‘til you’re sick of me,” he promised, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve. He guessed that might be sooner rather than later though, if Dicky eyeing the books out of the corner of his eye was any indication.

It was good to hear that Dicky’d found an internship, if only because that meant he didn’t spend all his time in his pyjamas. “No kidding,” he said mildly, even if he didn’t really have a clue what ‘archiving’ meant. Did that just mean Dicky spent all day reading and putting files away? It seemed like kind of a chore, but he supposed it actually suited the Ravenclaw boy quite well. “What’s that involve, then? D’you get to see the Merlin artifacts? Did he have a broomstick?” That was speaking his language more, and Rafe asked the last question eagerly at the thought that Merlin might’ve also zoomed around Wales on a broom. He knew in a vague sense that magic had evolved over time, and that included the use of conduits – changing relationships between wizards and their wands, or staffs, or whatever. But he’d never thought about the history of broomsticks before, at least not pre-Quidditch.

He took another sip of foamy Butterbeer, but choked a little at Dicky’s question about Addy. It was…extremely uncharacteristic of him to care about gossipy things like that and Cheese stared at his friend like he’d grown a second head. “Oh, well…yeah. We see a bit of each other.” He felt his cheeks flush a little at the admission. He and Addy were terrible at being ‘just friends.’ Even when they were broken up, she’d still text him late at night and he nearly always responded. And that tension carried over into their Quidditch practices at the local league, too. The only difference was that the friend group didn’t hang out as much together, so no one seemed to have noticed that they weren’t completely platonic. And honestly, Dicky was the last person that Cheese would’ve expected to be interested in that dynamic.

But he was pretty sure Dicky wouldn’t read in-between the lines about their situationship, so Cheese didn’t elaborate. Because he wasn’t completely sure that he wanted to get into the nitty-gritty of it with a mutual friend who knew them both. It was easier to rely on Yas for advice or Jimmie for tough love, since they were more removed from the situation. So he seized on an easier topic of conversation and asked about Hogwarts. Dicky’s observations hinted at some major changes, even if Rafe couldn’t quite visualize it in his mind’s eye. “What’s it like?” he asked curiously, stealing another fistful of chips from the nearly empty basket. “I mean, they’ve added all those new wings. But are things really that different?”

Richard Myron Woods-Knox