Theodore jumped at the sensation of a soft tapping on his shoulder blade. He nearly dropped his book! Flushing pink from embarrassment, he turned to face who had spoken to him in such an obviously Hispanic accent. Bowing his head and his blue eyes glancing nervously about, the shorter teen pressed himself against the shelf as he cracked a small, weak smile. He muttered, "I'm sorry, go right ahead," in his obviously American accent, hoping that the stranger would swiftly pass by and save the blue-shirted boy the further humiliation of showcasing his socially awkward ways.

However, upon further thought, Theodore wondered if it would be such a bad thing if the stranger decided to strike up a conversation. His accent labeled his status as a foreigner, and he looked as if he was an older student. Hogwarts students were said to swarm Diagon Alley at this time of year, as it was. As the fellow curly-locked guy swept past him, Theodore plucked up the courage and managed to squeak out a friendly, albeit nervous, inquiry: "You wouldn't happen to go to Hogwarts, would you, erm... sir?" For all he knew, this was simply an adult with a young aesthetic who was browsing books on his break from one of the shops on the street. Had he gotten the opportunity, Theodore's palm would have made swift contact with his forehead for his social stupidity. He nervously bent the dog-eared corners of the piece of muggle literature he held in his hands as his eyes forced him to concentrate on the winking, smiling cover of a Gilderoy Lockhart book.