He'd found himself going in circles, on a loop, as if things were set to repeat in a cycle over and over, of course it wasn't. But his actions did repeat, everyone else's lives seemed to go on as per normal, his however was set to repeat. His routine was the same, just with slightly different places. He would wake up, clean, dress, go out, check on places he had applied to for work, potentially apply for work, wander diagon, visit a few shops, go home, have his only meal of the day, go to bed. Repeat. The shops may change now and then to be different places, the places he visits may change, but it was the same core loop. Never ceasing no matter how he tried it would repeat.

Some may say its some divine will, or that there is a plan for it. Some may suggest he needs radical changes, others that there is no breaking. But ultimately it wouldn't change until his luck did, then he gets caught on another loop, but at the very least it would be a more productive one for him to go off of. This loop was brought about from a lack of work, atleast with work he has room to go to places and means he is going somewhere. He supposed everyone had a loop, you couldn't escape it. Everyone was bound to repeat, even those who constantly move, never staying in the same place longer then a few days, ultimately they're in a loop also.

But today his loop found him in a nice spot, it found him to the music shop, the place was comforting, it wasn't the same sort of busy as Alohomocha, while it had business it was alot more relaxed, no matter how relaxed Alohomocha was, it was a coffee shop, everyone was going about their business even if that business was to be off of business. Whereas here it was business, but only for those working, morel like a hangout then a business, a hangout that had a business? That seemed more appropriate.

Sam had no musical talent in himself, or as far as he knew, primary school he learned to play hot cross buns and busy bees on a piece of plastic, his dad was against such things as music, still believing AC DC to be devil worshippers so he didn't get to learn much, he was aware of the existence of guitars and that covered the extent of his knowledge, but he has heard some songs he did like and he liked the sound of music. He admitted it helped that the store didn't seem against just hanging around, even if he just sat or stood by himself in a corner it felt nice to relax somewhere with people, as much as he liked having a place of his own, it was very much a place he wants to spend the least amount of time in.

He did his usual, he entered, went to check a random record bin, not really sure what he would pull up, and neither being able to afford anything, or have anything to play it on, he didn't even have a wireless so his ability to listen to music was severely hampered, but he liked seeing what they had, maybe one day he'd be able to listen to them. Today he tried for foik rock music, me wanted to spend a fair amount of time here, it was nicer then just wandering diagon like a puppy. So that meant that when he had his fill of just looking randomly through things he would go to a seat and just pretend he's doing something as he watches people. There is one person he's seemed to have spotted a few times, not just in the store, she seemed to certainly work here but he swears he's seen her in other places, likely heading to and from home.

But his sitting and watching, trying not to seem paranoid or creepy as he looks at the person he swears he's seen elsewhere was later. For now it was looking at...what sort of sound could silence make? That title makes no sense!

A teenage witch with straw-blonde hair shaggy over her eyes sat on a stool behind the counter. She licked her thumb to performative turn the page of the large-format magazine, the January issue of Wicked, looking like some kind of impish miniature librarian's familiar. She was called Nemo and she worked Mondays through Thursdays from 9am to 4.

The store was quiet. It had been busier the last couple of weeks for Valentine's day, but now it was quiet again. Well, relatively quiet. The Idlewild sisters were in their bagpipes lesson upstairs. Nemo had been keeping an eye on the boy who'd been wandering the store quietly. Every so often, she'd look up over her round back sunglasses, catch him looking at her, then flip the page. This went on for awhile.

Nemo cupped a hand over her mouth and then called out in a guttural grunt. "Hey."

She swallowed a laugh, forced a straight face and did it louder. "Hey, little prince lost your crown?"

People came into the shop and didn't buy anything all the time; Nemo had before she started working here in December. There was always music playing, you could bring a coffee, there were record players to try things out. The owners wanted it to be a sort of community moment, what with the perpetually under-construction recording studio downstairs. All of which made it the perfect place for youth who needed a place to hang for a minute.

He nearly dropped a record when the witch first shouted, after a second he had recovered before she had decided to shout again, was it her? He didn't catch her shouting...but it sounded from that direction and she had stopped reading her magazine by the looks of it. He did a good double take of the place as he looked around the shop for anyone who could of made such a voice, or seemed to not be doing anything...why were people shouting at him?

Were people even shouting for him? Maybe it was for someone else?...he wasn't a prince, the little part was...fine sure he wasn't that big for a person. But why would he be a prince? He's never even been a frog! He almost got turned into stuff at Hogwarts, one time being threatened into turning into a dog and let loose in the woods. It was not a pleasant thought, but made up alot of his time at hogwarts.

He very carefully put the record he was holding down back where he found it, doing his best to make sure it was like he wasn't there, not that he took anything but he didn't want it to be out of order, the place was like an organized chaos and he didn't want to really ruin that. And it must be annoying when people just abandon things in the wrong section right?

Sam awkwardly went up to the counter and the blond haired witch. "Uh hi, sorry...where you shouting at me? Or was it someone else?" He asked softly, almost whispering as if worried he would disrupt others going about their day. "If it even was me that was being shouted at."

Aw, he was a puppy. For as much as that blue hair of his screamed for attention, screamed to be seen, the older boy slunk up to the girl who was frequently mistaken for a fourteen-year-old as if he was in trouble. He'd just come, poor guy. Nemo decided to lay off.

"I think I know you," she said dropping the silly voice. She'd seen him before. He was hard to mistake, and not just because of the hair. He had this androgynous waif thing going on whether he knew it or not. He was on his own, she knew that too. They could all spot each other.

"You're Sam, right?" Nemo was good with names. She always made a point of it.

"Call me Nemo."

She knew...his name...he had to admit it took him back a little, after all they hadn't spoken before, so her knowing his name was a bit of a shock. But she gave her own and was nice so far, although it could go like the vampires, but this was a chill place, so she must be fairly chilled right? He'd seen her down Knocturne and that was worrying...or it could of been another blond wix...the hair always made it difficult to tell, and everyone had hoods up or heads down! But he lived down shady areas of Knocturne, so he must look more worrying.

"Uh..yeah. I'm Sam..." He confirmed with a small headnod, she looked quite a bit younger then him, should she be in Hogwarts? Had they met in Hogwarts which is why she knows his name? It was possible but then he should know hers. Well he did now. It was Nemo...like the fish? He remembered seeing it once, it was an orange fish and he was kidnapped as his father started a race around the world followed by a woman with short term memory loss...he thinks. He hasn't seen many movies, his parents didn't like it and Hogwarts isn't good for watching films.

"Its nice to meet you." He said a little more confidently and offered his hand forwards slowly. That was a thing people did right?

"I've seen you also...around I mean, like...in places...not that I'm following you! Just like about the place in general!"

Nemo shook Sam's hand.

"No, I get it. I'm around," she said with a little laugh. "To be seen. And heard. I play music in Diagon, Camden, and Picadilly sometimes," she said. The more words she spoke, the more American she was sure to sound to Sam. Her accent was flat and soft and her voice was touched with a raspy vocal fry here and there. She never wanted to sound high-pitched - she liked her singing second alto.

"How old are you? Do you know Hamish or Avi?" she asked.[1] Connections were everything. When you lived a paperless life and made your own way, it was smart to know many people and know who they knew. It's how you found out who to ask for unicorn blood, it's how you managed to house sit in Notting Hill, and it's how you got auditions at Stardust.

1.	I just made up two names. I imagine they are other young people living on the edges.

Oh more questions straight in! He should of guessed there would be questions, they were introducing eachother still but just...how casual it was and asking about people, he started figuring they had never met at Hogwarts, he didn't know many at Hogwarts for a start and her accent was not something he would forget, some sort of American, he thinks, it could be something completely different also.

"I am 19...and no I don't believe so? I don't...talk to people often, since arriving in London its been you...and a woman who I knocked into..." He thought it best to not mention the scary vampires right now, or that he didn't want to ever go to Camden Town again incase they saw him and attacked him, he knew it was unlikely they would attack him, but he didn't want to take the chance or get really awkward by seeing them.

"Playing music is really cool by the way...what instrument do you use?"

Nineteen? He looked younger than that, but Nemo could relate. At that age, it was possible he was fine. Abby was that age, and a lot of her friends who all had proper jobs in government. Maybe Sam didn't need a network. Nemo wondered if her intuition had failed her. Maybe Sam wasn't on his own. But then, maybe what he'd said about having just arrived and not knowing anybody meant someone needed to be looking out for him. Poor sprout.

She opted not to call attention to his situation, though. They didn't know each other and not everyone who was living it had chosen that life as enthusiastically as Nemo had, running away from home in the US to the magical land of London.

"Everything," she answered, attempting no modesty. Piano, accordion, violin, guitar, clarinet - she'd learned them all. It had been her 'thing' in high school.

"I like your hair," she said next. "Is it magic?"

She played everything? That was...he could play hot cross buns on a piece of plastic, the fact she knew how to play everything, it was both saddening that she was younger, or looked younger? He didn't know her age, and nor would he ask, it was rude to ask that! But she seemed younger, and she could play everything, while he could barely remember the one thing he learned in muggle school. Maybe he should learn an instrument, piano seemed interesting, could get work at places on a piano, it sounded classy. He likely couldn't get one into his apartment though, the floorboards would cave and crash to the ground floor if anything heavier then a TV was placed inside.

His hair though! She asked about his hair! It was not something he often gets asked, probably because its not that interesting, but it was nice to be asked. Even if he didn't do a whole lot to it really. He had heard of magical hair dye that would change with your mood, but he wasn't sure if it was like those mood ring things where its just stuff inside that changes on temperature or if it really did, it was magical so it could be, it would just be expensive and he didn't know how long it would last for the money.

"I don't do much to it, I did dye it with normal hair dye I got at a Boots. But it was brighter then I wanted, so I used Colovaria to make it darker, so atleast if it wears off then its still dyed, just lighter." He awkwardly felt the hair around his right ear, almost as if he was trying to tell the colour of it by touch. He had cast the charm that morning but he could never remember when it would wear out, if it even wore out at the time it was meant to. "I do need to get better dye for it sometime though, so I don't have to rely on charms to keep it how I want."

"Your hair is also...really nice." The pause probably made it sound false, but he did like the messiness of the hair, and the amount, it was alot more hair then he had. And it was longer, both things he sort of wanted but he didn't want to rely on spells to do, most likely he would mess it up and leave himself with a constantly regrowing handlebar mustache.

"Thanks," Nemo said. She liked her hair, too.

A witch in probably her late twenties came up behind Sam. Nemo slid off the stool and put up her magazine to help her. The customer held up a Three Owl Standard record and the magical till started whirring and clanging.

"Three galleons two," Nemo said and jotted the sale down in the ledger.

    "Is it good?" the witch asked even as she handed Nemo the gold and silver.

"Captures the zeitgeist," Nemo replied sagely. "You made a good choice. Anything else?"

    "Some Monty's Pythons. The big one."

Nemo reached behind her to the faire of snacks and rang that up as well. The witch handed off a few knuts and was on her way. Leaving Nemo and Sam together again.

"It's not great," Nemo said once the customer had gone.

Sam gave a small smile, atleast she was honest, now at the very least. But it was part of the job, you wanted sales so of course she would say that. He understood, it was normal for shopkeepers to promote stuff even they looked bad, he saw one shoe shop employee sell a pair of bright pink cowboy boots to someone, barely anyone looked good in cowboy boots unless it was the full outfit, and even less bright pink ones when they were wearing mostly brown clothing.

"How bad is it?" He asked curiously, not having heard of the band before, or maybe he had before but years ago and he'd forgotten. "Guessing it was just lackluster or is it actually painful to listen to?" He wasn't really sure how it was possible to make bad music, he guessed if it was painful to hear. As surely it would still be good to listen to? Just not as good as another song, but then wouldn't that imply its not a bad song just others are better?

He took a look at the Monty Pythons behind the counter, they freaked him out a little, same as Chocolate Frogs, except this seemed more grotesque to him, living snakes that acted and looked just like snakes, yet it was for eating and bled whatever was inside. Atleast Chocolate Frogs didn't bleed but were still acting like living things. He hasn't been able to look at a Curly Wurly the same way since.

"What type of music are you typically into? If its not great." He went to the side of the counter so he cannot get in the way of people who want to do their shopping and leaned onto it, more comfortable then just standing there awkwardly.

Nemo shrugged.

"It's just not great," she said. Three Owl Standard was a good act. They'd started in the 90s during under the terror of You Know Who and put out some really good tracks, but their latest album was missing something, at least in Nemo's young opinion.

"I like all kinds," Nemo said, content to talk about music. It was a deeply personal topic in most ways. She could have just answered Sam, but it wasn't that simple.

"You know how something can be loved without being good, and good without being loved? It's a big question, you know, what you're into. When I was fourteen it was all about liking the right thing, but you couldn't just like the same thing everyone else liked. It was like having to perfectly curate your personality. And in the meantime we're all crying our mascara down our cheeks behind bedroom doors listening to My Chemical Romance."

Nemo spoke about being fourteen as if it was eons ago with the loftiness of a subculture elder.

My Chemical Romance? He knew what chemicals were, he...heard of romance before. He had no clue who My Chemical Romance was though, well obviously they were a band, but he had never heard of them in the slightest....but he didn't know many bands at all, when he did listen to alot was in school, but he wasn't in muggle school for that long really, he obviously heard some in Hogwarts but always in the background and never learning any.

He knew a couple of people ultimately, but that was more cause his dad made sure he did learn them.

"I think only songs I know....a coal mining song, that one about West Virginia, Fortunate Son and I've heard of both Elvis and the Beetles but never listened to them." He said in an attempt to explain his somewhat befuddled look. "Never learned any in school, and my Dad didn't want stuff on he didn't like. So only the same songs he liked over and over." He put down his fingers he only just noticed he was counting the number he knew on. It was an incorrect count anyway, he'd heard more but those are only ones that he can ever remember, its hard to remember every background noise you've heard.

"I think something about Uranium also but he considered that borderline hippy..." He muttered softly.

"This is my time," Nemo whispered quietly to herself, a sense of purpose rising up from the static existence of part-time, under the counter employment. This was the time. This was the place. Everything had prepared Natalie "Nemo" Morrow for this moment.

Sam, who reminded Nemo in the kindest way of a ferret, was missing something. Somehow, he'd not had that musical moment; Nemo thought everyone deserved the opportunity to like music. Nimbly, Nemo climbed over the counter and stuck her sunglasses in her hair.

"Fate, she's brought us together, Sam," Nemo said with a smile and took his hand like they were old friends. She remembered that terrible feeling in school where people took faint with the damn vapors when they found out you hadn't seen Requiem for a Dream or Monty Python or some other arbitrary bit of media. No, this was a moment to invite Sam in, not single him out.

She led him to a listening booth. They looked like old telephone boxes but were kitted out with a turn-table. There was room for two people of Nemo and Sam's size.

"Just so we get it out of the way," she said and held up a record. "Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles."

Before she set it moving, she held up a finger. "Nothing is sacred. You don't have to like it. Ready?"

Had he said something wrong? Nemo seemed very happy with what he said, he did say something wrong, but it was something extremely right for her. She now got to show off her musical prowess and teach him music, would he now become her pet project as she takes him under to create a new musical identity for him? It seemed like that was what she was trying to do.

Then they were inside a phone booth, they fit together, but a phone booth is small by itself! Let alone with two squeezed inside! He felt fairly awkward with being this close to her, it was after all not what he was expecting today, he didn't think he'd be shoved inside a phone booth with someone today. Especially with several records that...how are they so big? He understood about not having muggle but surely...magic?

He nodded in agreement, nothing was sacred, so he could feel free to voice his opinion...but does that mean if he agrees to liking it that she may feel he isn't being honest? He had a chance to listen first so he had that on his side incase he didn't like it.

Not like that mattered though, it felt like along time and also a short time, short in that, the song seemed short, are all songs short? Aren't they meant to go on for awhile? And long in that it felt awkward standing there so close to someone else as they listened. But he did like it!

"Its good! Its a nice relaxing song, like...calming? And gentle." He struggled a bit with finding the words he wanted, but it was nice! It was something he could imagine playing as he just settled down, although it was hard to imagine having the money to buy a record player.