Absit Omen RPG

Mairead laughed at Alex' joke - it was good Alex didn't have useless men to yell at.  That always made things easier.  Though, now that Mairead thought about it, Alex hadn't mentioned any men - either useful ones or ones who needed yelling at for no reason whatsoever.  Until now, Mairead had always assumed one was somewhere off stage but she was only now realizing Alex had never actually mentioned anyone. 

"Since it ain't no secret, you gonna say who the pop is?  They not no useless bloke, right?  Or, ye need me to hunt down and beat up the looser that knocked ye up and left ye high and dry?" 

Shit.  Of course Alex would wand more details about the broom.  Fantasizing about getting a new broom was one thing.  Delving into details about a broom she lanquished after but knew, now, would never actually be an option was another all together.  That was depressing enough to border on annoying. 

"Been tryin' not t'get me hopes up for any specific one," she confessed.  That was close enough to the truth that it didn't really feel like a lie.  Gonna see how much I got and which ever one works, really.  Any one would be good - still be exciting."  She still rode the broom given to her by Grace Eddy and she liked to think using an older model forced her to rely more on skill.  Of course, though, her broom was still back at Hogwarts.  Unless, they'd gotten rid of it.

Mairead grinned, her eyes flickering to Alex' belly and back before shrugging.  Child-birthing was a bit of a group affair among women back home.  She'd always been too little to be of any real help but she'd seen enough to not be naive about the process.  As she watched the quidditch player fidget nervously, she suspected she might even be less naive than the older woman. 

"If yer anything like Auntie Vonnie, then yer prob'bly pissin' every twenty minutes.  'Course, ye may not be yellin' at useless men all the time, so that might help."  Mairead didn't know why but Siobhan always seemed to complain more about peeing all the time right after yelling at her husband. 

At Alex' question, Mairead shoved a hand into her pocket and pulled out the small jumbled assortment of muggle and magic world coins.  "Not bin a bad day," she confessed, plucking a stray button from the collection of coins and slipping it in her other pocket.  It was actually almost enough for some fries and chicken nuggets - better than the last few nights.  Pride, however, took her answer in a different direction.  Especially since Alex was clearly already getting suspicious.

"If the weather stays good and don' rain or scorch, I might have enough for a new broom.  Especially if I can get a fair bit for me old used one."  She feigned a broad, eager grin.  A blush rose in her cheeks.  "Me parents are fine - just don't have a lot for extras.  Don' wanna start loosin' cuz me broom's an antique."

"You did just leave without saying goodbye.  Or were you really expelled? ... you'd show up out of the blue, then act so surprised when everyone wonders where you've been since April. It's a valid question."

"Fine -" she snapped back at the gossip-demanding Ravenclaws.  If they wouldn't leave her alone ... if brandishing her family drama was toll for a night out with old schoolmates, well ... what did Mairead care.  "I tried to find me parents over the holiday and couldn't.  When it was time to go back to school...what's the point?  I didn' know I wasn' coming back - okay?"  It hadn't been planned, it had just happened."   

Color flushed across Mairead's cheeks and her fingers twitched, before her shoulders hitched up in a dramatic shrug of nonchalant dismissal that clashed with the rest of her body language.  She hadn't been expelled at the start of the holidays but who knew - chances were, by now, they probably had expelled her.  She probably couldn't go back, even if she wanted to.

"I don't blame anyone for not wanting to come back to Hogwarts ... Good to see you, Mai ... Just here to have fun, you know."

Mairead nodded to both of them, appreciatively.  Whatever.  She whipped her head around to look directly at Eirene, one corner of her mouth hitching up in a sneer.   "Have me explanations met yer exacting standards, Miz Antonopoulos?  Do I have yer permission to stay or are ye gonna tell me t'get?"

Eirene's voice carried over the group and Mairead glowered briefly at her as regret for choosing to come here started to settle in.  She still wasn't sure what had motivated her to come.  But, if overhearing the gossip about this get together had made her wonder if she could just slip back into school, perhaps she was finding her answer. 

"Hey there girl, what are you up to?"

Normally, Allura's flirtations would elicit some expression of annoyance but the gratitude Mairead felt at the gesture of inclusion trumped that.  Rather than usual grunt or smart quip Mairead would have normally given, she nodded. 

"Overheard talk in Diagon about this get together and thought I'd, ye know, stop in an' see everyone.  Yet, seems I'm not exclusive enough t' be welcome.  Didn't know y' had to pass Antonopoulos' muster t' be able to show up."  She lifted her own voice, to ensure it had carried at least as much as the Ravenclaw's. 

Then, she turned her attention squarely on Antonopoulos.  "Is that what yer sayin'?  I'm not welcome and should bugger off?"

Busking had the potential to be lucrative or a complete waste of time but, like in real estate, it was all about location, location, location.  Also like in real estate, the competition for the best locations could be downright brutal. 

Since leaving Hogwarts over spring break, Mairead had managed to case out a few reliable locations in both muggle London and Diagon Alley that seemed to meet the three primary criteria: good bit of monied foot-traffic, not seemingly in high demand by other street performers and away from cops' common beats.  Attempting to obtain a busking license as an unaccompanied minor was bound to attract too many questions.  And, following rules was for nobs and squares. 

Her daily haul took a hit from the regular need to relocate but the loss was somewhat offset by having access to coin purses in both the wizarding and muggle worlds. 

This afternoon, Mairead was playing for tips in the muggle world.  A steady stream of work-weary Londoners were finding their way into or through the park.  The brisk set of jigs Mairead was playing on her flute had already brought in a couple of quid - as long as the cops kept their distance, she might get enough for a proper meal that evening. 

But, when she finished the set, it wasn't cops that interrupted the session, it was a familiar voice.  Mairead grinned at the quidditch player (sparing a moment of giddy pride for the fact that Mairead was friends with a professional quidditch player) before settling onto the bench next to her. 

"Ye look fit t' pop," she offered with a grin, nodding towards the woman's belly.  Then, with a sardonic grin, she added: "I assume we're not tryin' to keep it secret anymore, right?"

Mairead didn't know why she was here.  She'd overheard some of her former classmates talking about their virgin trip to Spellpunk while enjoying a hard-earned sausage roll in a doorway along Diagon Alley.  For some reason, she had gotten some strange, inexplicable notion to join.  Crash.  Whatever the right term was. 

Like many of her classmates, Mairead had boarded the Hogwarts Express for London at the start of spring break in their fourth year.  At the end of their week of freedom, the promise of a warm bed and a full meal had drawn Mairead back to the front doors of King's Cross station but even they weren't enough to convince her to climb aboard that train.  There she had watched the clock tick to 11:00.  Then, 11:05.  Then, 11:10.  Then, she'd turned and slipped back into the flow of foot traffic and back out onto the streets of London. 

Mairead didn't know if anyone had noticed her absence.  Keeping to the muggle Travellers community at first had made it nearly impossible for anyone to come looking for her - though she doubted they did.  But, while Gringott's would exchange pounds for galleons,  Mairead found the goblins got grumpy when asked to change a small pile of pennies and ten pences into gnuts and sickles.  Busking on both London street corners and in Diagon Alley was a far easier way to get money for both worlds. 

Yet, when she'd overheard the chatter about a pre-school gathering, Mairead had felt an inexplicable impulse to happen upon the club at the same time.  Feeling somewhat self-conscious about her slightly grungy appearance, she grunted as the stamp was pressed to the back of her hand and made her way into club.  And, of course, so far it was only Ravenclaws and Slytherins. 

Maybe this had been a mistake. 

"Change of plan?"

Mairead grunted a wishy-washy sort of confirmation as she plucked a cushion from the sofa and flopped it down on the floor, right in front of the fireplace.  With all the feminine grace of a bludger smashing through a wayward team-supporting sign, she plopped down on top of it to steep in the warmth. 

"If I was 'em, I'd want for another school," she mused, following Abbott's line of thought.  "They must know people'd always look at em funny."  She was just as likely to be the one coordinating the dirty looks, after all.  "Not that they got a choice about who their da is."  Mairead pursed her lips as the thought brought the largely unfamiliar discomfort of an obvious moral dilemma. 

Mairead solved the moral dilemma with a dismissive hrmph and the seizure of an all too convenient distraction. 

"Teaching certainly don't seem t'be for everyone.  Be happy t'help the straw-headed git find the door."  Of course, she was already trying to do that, but she wasn't about to admit it.  "Anyone's happy to join the effort.  Doubt he'll be as-" she hesitated, fishing for the word that adequately expressed his perseverence without revealing any underlying respect.  "entrenched as Storm."   

Storm, like all teachers (and any other authority figure for that matter) was the enemy.  Never to be trusted and never to be given an easy time.  He wasn't the worst, mind you.  He was a respectable adversary, unlike some of the others. 

"Old people get stubborn, everyone knows that," Mairead offered, dismissively.  "When a war horse gets too old t' go t'war, ye send it back to the farm t' teach the kiddos how t'ride.  The thing'll still trumpet and make a big fuss but it's just fer show.  He'd still just give someone a detention fer breakin' into his office."  Mairead waved her fingers in the air for dramatic effect. 

Hasn’t he got kids, wouldn’t it be something to do with that if people are parents.

Mairead hesitated in the entrance, holding the portrait half-closed as she scowled across the corridor. 

Ahem.

Of course, that would be the form of a privileged professor’s boggart.  Nothing more than the idyllic, fairytale worries of something disrupting the Christmas boutique family unit. 

Ahem.  Make up your mind, child.  Though, at this hour, the choice should be obvious.  Don’t you have a train to catch in the morning? 

Mairead rolled her eyes at Fortuna Major and returned to the common room, slumping back on the couch.  Her previously positive mood well-curdled. 

“Wonder when they start Hogwarts,” Mairead murmured as she shook her head.  “Could ye imagine?”

Mairead grinned at the thought their former Death Eater Professor's greatest fear being a cockroach or the dark.  Abbott turned her attention to Marsh for his input. 

It mattered little if he thought the Dark Mark was excessive.  The wizarding war might have ended over a decade ago but Mairead was still reminded regularly of her mudblood status.  If she couldn't forget the tensions of the past, why should the aggressors?  But, she kept those thoughts to herself and simply shrugged. 

Maybe this whole boggart idea warranted some further consideration.  Unfortunately, of course, now that she'd voiced it there was the risk of it being easily traced back to her.  That would take some careful planning.  Or, a hardy dose of 'just don't care.'  Either way, there were options.  With a grin, Mairead pushed herself to her feet and nodded to her housemates. 

"Wonder if there's any leftover pudding," Mairead mused as she pushed herself to her feet.  "I'm going to head to the kitchen."  With a nod of farewell, she slipped past the hole to the corridor.

Mairead pushed her way past the portrait and into a deliciously buzzing common room.  As far as she was concerned, despite the amateur-derived artistic liberties taken with the dark mark, the whole event had been an unbridled success. 

She'd been replaying the professor's ice cold stony expression as he'd tried to gracefully flee the Great Hall in her head as she'd waited patiently in a ground floor classroom for the Great Hall to clear.  The little garter snake that had been coiled up in a dark corner of the Great Hall had finally come to tell her that the little potion vial under Snape's chair had been confiscated.  That outcome hadn't surprised Mairead, but it did disappoint her.  Potion vials weren't cheap and nabbing them increased the chances of getting caught. 

After taking the time to reward the small serpent with a small cricket, she let him lead the way up to Gryffindor tower, always staying a few steps behind the snake so he could keep an eye out for prefects and professors.  Sneaking around Hogwarts had become infinitely easier since recruiting a small band of secret sentry serpents. 

With snake tucked safely in her pocket, she'd rejoined her fellow Gryffindors and found a spot on a couch near a cluster of fellow quidditch players.  If snakes could purr, the combined warmth of her body and the fire would have sent the snake into full body vibrations. 

"I'd maybe try to get a boggart to pop up behind him," Mairead offered, tucking her feet underneath her and curling contently into the corner of the couch.  "Let everyone see what his worst fear is.  I bet it's something silly like water.  Or spiders."  But, once that cat was out of the bag, there would be no way of putting it back.  Everyone who wanted to could capitalize on that knowledge.

Which begged the question: how did one trap a boggart?  Was the answer important enough to go to the library?   

Maybe.

Well, this wasn't going to be that bad.  Allura was at least willing to be lazy, even if she was a little too worried about marks and grades in the process.  Besides, given Allura's approach, they should definitely be in good shape.  With Mairead keeping the bar low, she was always generating low expectations.  As such, doing some work - even if it was less - would be exceeding expectations and, therefore, guaranteed them marks. 

At least, that logic worked in her head. 

So, Mairead nodded and turned her attention to the pots.  She plopped her earmuffs in place and wrapped her fingers around the leaves and went through the motions of trying to unseat the plant without any real determination.  Give the impression of maximum effort, despite minimal results.  Quality over quantity, right? 

She felt a little give in the pot and loosened her grip, lest she pull out the plant prematurely and ruin her masterful performance.  Next to her, she should see Alurra had tugged a muff off an ear and had leaned over to speak.  Mairead unseated one of her own muffs to listen. 

"Ye trust girls?!"  Mairead retorted, scowling in disapproving surprise as the other put her muffs back on.  That made no sense to the Gryffindor.  Guys were easy.  Simple.  Predictable.  Girls on the other hand were sneaky and manipulative.  She'd always found it much easier to hang out with guys than girls.  If a guy stepped out of line, you could throw a punch and settle the issue before both of you went about your business.  Throw a punch at a girl and there was nothing but whining and tears and even more drama then there had been before. 

That weird look her partner had was a case in point.  Mairead cast a glance around the greenhouse, her gaze lingering a few moments on a few particularly whiny-prone classmates.  Still scowling, Mairead turned to her pot and wrenched the mandrake out before shoving the crying shriveled root into a larger pot and quickly filling the space unceremoniously with handfuls of dirt. 

Fine.  Apparently, she had a limit when it came to how far to take the quidditch analogies.  Well, if she was squeamish about taking about what happened when the baby came out into the world, she was in for it when it actually happened.  Another reason not to let a thing like a baby get in the way of quidditch. 

Of course, abandoning the anology did make it harder to talk about it in public, without spreading gossip, but oh well.  "Me mum used t' say if yer cravin' sweets and carryin' high, yer gonna have a girl," she added with a shrug. 

Mairead pursed her lips in thought.  Maybe telling Greyfriar she was considering leaving would help.  It was also possible it'd make him stubbornly try to convince Mairead to stay.  He seemed the type to hold to the belief that all could be successful if they just tried hard enough!  Well, that would be Alex' hurdle to cross. 

But, then, the conversation too a sharp turn in an unexpected direction.  Surprise registered briefly in Mairead's expression before it fading as quickly as it came.  She didn't know how they'd respond to Mairead leaving school.  She hadn't talked to them about it.  Of course, it had been almost a year since she'd last seen them - so how was she to know what they'd think?

Not that she intended to share such details with a stranger, even if they were a quidditch player.  "They're fine with it," she finally offered, not at all phased by the lie.  "They want me to stick it out to first exams but, after that, they just want me to do somethin' I like."  Then, with a bright smile, she added.  "Just so long as I get them tickets to me games!"

"Greyfriar," Mairead answered, with a resigned sigh.  As far as Mairead could tell, Greyfriar didn't dislike her, but Mairead wasn't usually quick to get in professors' good favor.  Then again, she hadn't done anything to get on their bad side, either.  Not very recently, at least.

As long as no one caught her with that Dark Mark-in-a-Bottle prank, she was unlikely to give them a reason on the near future, as well. 

"Mebbe - if ye tell him I might leave after OWLs and gettin' on a team would get me out sooner, he'd especially do it," Mairead added.  Offering a little more incentive couldn't hurt.   

She still wasn't sure she agreed with the idea - choosing a kid over quidditch seemed unfathomable - but it did sound like that was what Cooper wanted.  Of course, she could understand why they wouldn't want Cooper playing with a bludger on board.  "Ye wouldn't want it comin' durin' a game, after all.  And, it'd probably get uncomfortable.  All that weight.  Sittin' on the broom.  And, I'd be wantin' to protect the bludger, too.  I'd whack it every time it got near ye.  And, I'm a seeker!" 

"Do ye know what yer havin', yet?  is it more like a beater's bat or a goal hoop?"

Mairead followed the other girl, pulling her own ear muffs out of her bag as she did.  There was another advantage to starting with the mandrakes.  If her current partner turned out to be a total bore, Mairead could 'accidentally' bump her earmuffs off.  A good screeching faint might win her a trip to the Hospital Wing and an easy pass to a free period. 

Might.  If Professor Prewett wasn't ready to call her out on that strategy. 

"I'm more of a 'get by with the least effort' kinda student.  Ye know?  I'm here mostly for the food and sports.  Just need good enough grades to avoid gettin' kicked out."  The same rule of thumb applied to mischief-making.  "Don't get a lot of voluntary help from boys.  But, I can usually find it when I need it.  Do ye like it?  The boys fawnin' over ye with notes?  Seems like it'd get annoying." 

Mairead slipped her ear muffs over her ears and tugged open the greenhouse door - no one appeared to be mid squeal, so she chanced slipping one muff half-off the ear.  "The bed in back's got the least plants.  But, the one in the corner's a biter." 

"Yer -" Mairead started to blurt before catching herself.  She caught herself and then looked pointedly from the quidditch player across from her to the woman's belly.  "Yer ... hatchin' a bludger?  Whadchya go and do that for?"

Somewhere in the back of her head, Mairead knew that excitement and congratulations were the expected reaction to such news.  But, she just couldn't find either reaction for the woman.  For most people, that might be a cool and exciting revelation.  But, most people weren't quidditch players. 

"Were ye meanin' to or was it like ye meant fer a clean hit and got a foul instead?" 

If Mairead actually managed to get on a team, she was bound and determined to not let anything get in her way.  She'd be playing for the rest of her life.  That was the current plan, at least. 

And, if the woman across from her was seriously offering to help her get even better - and maybe even make some connections with a team - well ...

Mairead grinned broadly.  "Ye'd really do that?  That'd be wicked.  We play Ravenclaw next at the end of May.  Last game of the year."  It'd be the game before finals but preparing for the game suddenly became much more important than studying.  Not that studying was ever that important.