Absit Omen RPG

Greer scowled, crossing her arms with her wand still in hand. She didn't plan on losing it! What about Storm's mistake? When was the professor going to admit that a first-year had bested him and he was on his way to expel him or arrest him or better yet, hex him into a hole?

The end of his cloak flapped as he turned from her. Flecks of mud sprayed onto the once-clean floor.

When his parting words reached her, her mouth gaped open just like all those other dum-dum students who seemed to forget that Storm was rude. He was a rude, cranky old wizard and one moment of worry in the woods didn't change that.

Greer wasn't in Dueling Club. She didn't do extracurriculars. Watch if she showed up! That club was full of sneaky Slytherins.

Greer sat up straighter, her scowl deepening, her hand tightening around her wand. He was almost at the door.

"I won't do it."

Her chest felt tight. She swallowed a cough, grumbling a little louder.

"You want us to hex Feliks for you! Instead of doing something about it! That's just dumb!"

She lifted up her chin.

Lucinda,

Hey. You'd better show up to school in the fall or I'm sending bat boogies after you. You'll smell like a boy from that point on. Forever. I mean it.

Greer.

Greer scrunched her nose as she watched the guide pull Eirene away. Ravenclaws! That wouldn't be Greer. She'd glance at the mirror for ten seconds, tops, and then she'd be done, and she could tell the Headmaster that she'd done it, just in case it affected her stupid extra credit.

Greer walked on with short, small steps, keeping her gaze on the floor where so many smudges and shoeprints shone on the marble. She was nothing special in the sea of students who had gone before her and would go next.

Just the way she liked it.

Much like Frank had, Greer found the brass footprints, and unlike Frank, positioned her feet behind the prints, giving herself a bit more distance. She looked up.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She was home.

Not home-home, not the home she'd lived in with her parents and brother, but home in the woods in Aberfoyle, where the large fairy tree guarded the hill. The sun was bright in the sky and gave no indication of what the night might bring.

Oh no. Why here? Wait, how many seconds had passed? She'd promised herself not to look too long. Had it been a few seconds? Three? Five?

Five, Greer started in her head.

And yet, her reflection looked almost the same as she did now. Her reflection wore summer clothes, not spring. Her mass of curly hair was a mess. Her jaw lifted and she didn't smile. She just peered at Greer with a little squint of her eyes.

Behind the tree stood her parents, sure. On a tree branch above her sat her little brother, his legs swinging among the cloth wishes tied to the branches. Sure. Greer didn't look at them, at what she already knew. She looked at her mirror image's leg. A pink and puffy scar shone, stretching from her knee to her calf, healed but ever present, always there.

Greer took a small step away from the mirror. How many seconds had it been? Ten? She didn't want to be here, looking like herself. Why here?

The tree began to grow.

The tips of the branches crept up into the sky, and the white ribbons tied to them burst into colorful flowers, and the tree grew into a flowered canopy that circled the sun.

On the hill, the roots of the tree curved out, cradling the hill itself, and the grass peeled away to show the dirt and the secret door leading to the den where Greer had spent so many full moons. The door of the den creaked open. Real-Greer stared, hunching her shoulders and crossing her arms. Stupid mirror.

Her reflection remained beside the door, brave Greer simply looking down into the tunnel, and then extending her hand.

An old, gnarled hand took her hand.

An older muggle man stepped out.

He stood in front of the fairy tree, in its shadow, his feet rooted to the ground. He let go of her hand and smiled down at mirror-Greer, who smiled back. She'd rarely spoken to him in town when he'd been alive, but she'd always remember his face. He wore a yellow raincoat and carried fishing gear. He looked out to where real-Greer was staring, saw tears pricking her eyes, and his smile faded.

He bent his head and outstretched his hands, and it didn't matter that he couldn't do magic. A wind blew around the tree, and it picked up the flowers that had once been wishes, and it carried them on the wind to gently touch the edge of the woods where real-Greer imagined she stood.

How many seconds had it been? Twenty? Thirty? So many more.

Setting her face into a scowl, Greer turned on her heel and stomped away from the mirror, her hands trembling. She imagined the wind at her back, the wishes in the air. They were meant for her. His forgiveness, too.

Wishing was a cruel thing, and she wouldn't spend another second on it.

Professor Storm dragged in the outdoors with him. The rain, and the damp, and the smoke, and the grave dirt, and the forest she wanted to leave behind, it all trailed in on his shoes and his cloak. Why, what had she done now? She finally felt a little more like herself after a change of clothes and a quick wash up. Greer scrambled to sit up straight on the hospital bed, a crumpled sheet of parchment with not much written on it beside her. Dear Harper...[1]

She should, but couldn't sleep. She would, but couldn't do any magic without her -

Wand.

There it was - a short little thing like her, with a burl in the wood shaped like a sharp tooth.

Greer stared at it for a moment, then glanced at the Professor's face. A trick? No, this was really her wand!

"You found it?" Greer's voice sounded better thanks to the Healer, but she still spoke in a mumble as she reached for her wand. The wand fit easily into her palm, and she tried to ignore the grime on the handle. She'd only just felt clean again.

She waved her wand at nothing in particular. Lumos! A bright light illuminated the row of tidy infirmary beds, the white sheets tucked in at every corner.

Her shoulders lifted. Then she looked at Storm's face. The light lent a warmth to Professor Storm's face that she was very certain he didn't feel.

Greer slowly lowered her wand, letting the light fade. The Headmaster must have asked the professor to search the woods - or maybe the Quidditch pitch where Feliks had claimed to be - for her wand. She hadn't expected anyone to find it. Not today, when so much had gone wrong.

"Thanks," she squinted at him, her brow furrowed, as if he'd just passed her a bowl of peas she weren't going to eat.

1.	Sorry to bug you

Hi Harper,
Thanks. I'm saving the chocolates for later and some for my friend. Ok so it's a long story but I'll do my best. I'm not great with writing. You're a good writer though.

Me and another girl were pranked by this dumb kid. It was a really mean prank. Professor Storm saw and hexed his sorry-_

Professor Storm handled it. Theres a little large burnt patch in the woods near Hogsmeade where it got handled.

Afterwards they had us all meet in the headmaster's office to find out what happened. I tried to state my case like you said but I couldn't talk much and it was hard. It's like when you tried to get me to talk to you when we first met and it look a long time for me to talk. Everyone was in the same room and it was just hard.

It sucks because I thought the Headmaster at least was on my side. He says he is. But he sent us away. He was mad at what happened and at Lucinda for getting mad at the kid.

Anyway they don't think it's the kid, Felix, who attacked us. They think it's somebody else? I don't understand who else. Kids can do bad things too. We saw him and what if the kid learned dark spells and stuff from someone. He even beat Storm in the duel and ran away. Storm found him later and he was pretending he played Quidditch all day. Little sh-_..

Sorry to bug you.

Greer

All was forgotten if not forgiven for several minutes when the Headmaster shepherded the three of them forward and the museum curator began her lecture about the mirror.

Eirene stood closest to the curator, taking notes and raising her hand to ask clarifying questions. Her friend, Cosima Early, esteemed school reporter and fellow Ravenclaw, took position across from Eirene to also ask a multitude of questions.

Greer stood somewhere behind Frank, wondering how she got grouped with so many Ravenclaws.

The crowd, including Miss Hollowred, murmured impatiently behind their small group. The students in front of Greer shifted slightly, and Greer caught a glimpse of the older student currently facing the mirror. His face was reddening, and he shoved his hands in his pockets and stormed off.

"I guess his father didn't pack him any peanut brittle," she mumbled at Frank, jerking her thumb at the retreating student.

Eirene stopped paying attention to the curator long enough to look at Frank and Greer, straining to hear what Greer had just said.

And in that moment, the curator lifted her hands in the air to quiet the students. She smiled at one of the students and gestured to the empty space before the mirror.[1]

1.	Could be meant for Frank or anyone!

Greer narrowed her eyes at Frank's question, but realized when he shared stuff about himself that he wasn't asking to be mean.

She glanced next at Eirene, who looked startled, as if the Ravenclaw had forgotten she was blabbing about lawyers and courtrooms to two people who had been directly affected by lawyers and courtrooms and the tense atmosphere she'd been lamenting.

Greer rolled her eyes a little and answered Frank.

"Harper," she paused. "Graves."

"American. So she doesn't really care when I call her Harper."

Greer shrugged, but she'd always felt pleased to feel like she were on a first name basis with the witch who had not only defended her but helped her figure out what to say in court and explained things that she didn't even know to ask.

"Mine is nice and wins with kindness, somehow."

Good for Frank's dad, though! His dad had gotten out of Azkaban and seemed okay enough to make tasty treats for his kid. Greer had been very lucky - told she was lucky, again and again - that her parents had not been sent to Azkaban.

It was hard to feel lucky when she missed them so much.

"I've heard all about the curious Ms. Crowe and gracious Ms. Graves," Eirene murmured, her nose in the pamphlet again.

"Yes, precisely," Eirene butted in to confirm the purpose of the assignment.

It was now Greer's turn to stare at Frank, though she looked a little more curious than aghast. Nice of him to tell her the point of it all, but he wanted to do both assignments? Was he mad?

Huh - which professor would go easier on her? She really couldn't tell sometimes. Both Eupraxia Wandsworth and Greyfriar were cut from the same cheerful cloth, pointing out her errors by writing mini-essays in the margins and sprinkling their advice with lots of happy exclamation points so as not to crush her, the student. Who was already crushed by the 'P - let's talk after class, I know you can do it, Miss Grant' left at the top of the scroll.

Greer was about to risk her ears by asking the two Ravenclaws what they thought of the mirror's history so she could use it in her own essay, when Frank kept talking.

"Actually-" Eirene tried as well, her nose in the pamphlet.

"Your brother's strange," Greer said quickly after, amused by Fig's strangeness. Who wanted goat legs? Probably her own little brother.

Eirene latched on to the opportunity to talk about herself.

"I'm going to be a Healer, just like my mother, though I'd also love to work at the Ministry, and I once considered becoming a lawyer like my father. Between you and me," Eirene looked first at Frank, and then spared the briefest of glances at Greer, "The courtroom tension I hear about is a bit scary."

Strangely, they had that goal in common, though for Greer, it was a much hazier and carefree dream. Greer had sometimes imagined following in her parent's footsteps and running the visitor's center for muggles. She'd already helped clueless tourists plan their hikes, just like her parents did.

Greer focused on the other thing they had in common, though.

"I don't want to be a lawyer. They have to be good at debating. I know a lawyer who's the nicest witch, though. People think lawyers are slimy, but they aren't all like that."

This letter is sent to Harper Graves at the Ministry of Magic in the early morning on March 18th. The owl comes from Hogwarts, bearing a message jotted on thin, cheap parchment.


Dear Harper,

Hi Harper I hope you are good.

Can I ask you a question? Sorry to bug you, but it's^noturgent and I'm_... fine.

What do you do when the person in charge who you thought you could trust is being fooled by a student who's really good at lying? Something bad happened yesterday but nothing makes sense and I don't know who else to talk to. It's more a personal thing. Not legal. It's just you've always listened to me.

You can ignore this if you're busy!

Greer

Greer nearly choked on her snack when Eirene proclaimed her ten-year plan.

She coughed into her hand, looking at Frank, who seemed more talkative than usual, and then at Eirene, who had brought everything annoying about school into the museum with them. Did Ravenclaws ever take a break from being Ravenclaws? A scroll case and several quills peeked out of Eirene's purse, and Greer noticed that she'd glanced expectantly at the Headmaster more than once, as if hoping for a speech.

"I've got a ten-minute plan," Greer offered, wishing the queue would move faster and make that come true. "I'm going to look at the mirror for long enough to make it seem like I'm really looking, and then I'm going to write about growing as a person or whatever soppy stuff the professors want to hear," Greer waved the napkin that Frank had given to her. This would do as a substitute scroll. "And then I'm going to hand it over to Greyfriar and not worry about it for the rest of our holiday."

She popped another piece of candy into her mouth and wiped her fingers on the napkin, just for Frank. Eirene was staring at her, but that wasn't Greer's problem.

"Your brother make this?" She asked Frank. He'd probably mentioned it earlier, but he talked a lot and she didn't always pay attention. "It's good."

He'd invited her after she'd complained in class about how her grandparents would never let her go on this trip, and though she'd kept it to a mumble-grumble, Frank had overheard and asked her to join him. With his girlfriend, she guessed.

Maybe it was out of pity? It must be out of pity. But who cared right now? She was out of the house and out of school and Frank was sharing snacks.

A few hours later...

After a terribly upsetting event happens, during which a Mr. Sellaphix may have been such a thing as 'too nice'.

"Too nice! There is such a thing!" Eirene laments again.

Ahem. Two hours later, another name appears, curiously tied to the second name:

At the weight shifting on the bed, Greer sat up, hearing the concern in Lucinda's voice, which was much more welcome than Greyfriar's constant concern that didn't match up with his actions. Still, she only glanced at Lucinda's face, and was grateful for the dim light in the Infirmary. Greer let out a sniff and swiped at her eyes. Her knuckles came away damp.

Though Greer paused, eventually she shook her head.

"Those two will just get into a tizzy if we leave," she glanced at the office door where the professor and the Healer seemed to be holding their evening vigil for all the troubles in the world.

"I don't think it'll be much better in the common room, either. Our housemates will just ask a bunch of stupid questions, like where were you and did you ruin Hogsmeade."

Greer grumbled, her voice a little softer and raspier than usual.

Greer felt a tiny flicker of validation as the Headmaster stared at her in consternation. His brow furrowed, but he didn't seem angry that she'd lost it. Not like she'd imagined Storm would be if she'd told him.

She'd had so many chances to tell either of them. Any minute now, he'd get upset with her for waiting, like her mum or dad would.

But he didn't. Lucinda had hers, and that was good. She glanced at the silent older girl. Greer remembered picking up both their wands, so what had happened? Why was it all such a muddled blur?

Someone would look for it.

She nodded, her own brow furrowing, not trusting herself to speak. Feliks must have it. If Greyfriar would search Feliks' belongings, he'd find it, and other creepy things the kid was hiding.

The Headmaster must think that all kids were good, no matter what. Her. Feliks. Everyone.

But he was wrong.

She turned away on the cot, laying down with her knees curled in.

The deep rumble of the Headmaster's voice and the hushed, higher voice of the Healer sounded muffled through the door. A world of adults, a story no one would tell her. Greer rested her arm over her ear and squeezed her eyes shut.

Greer stared at the Headmaster, the pit of dread in  her stomach getting worse and worse. Why didn't he believe them? She and Lucinda had both seen the kid's smug face, and Professor Storm had dueled him, and maybe Feliks had gotten some powers from his dead mum's medallion, but it didn't excuse him from attacking them. It just made it worse.

"But-"

Desperation flickered over Greer's face. She glanced at the office door. Any moment now, the Healer would come out and the Headmaster would claim that Feliks was innocent, and no one would listen to her!

"Feliks took my wand, and I don't know where it is now. I don't have it," her voice rose a little higher and her hands balled into fists as she hugged her knees in.

Had she dropped it, or had Feliks found it again? She didn't know.

Greer sat up quickly and curled in her legs just as quick, peering at the Headmaster over her knees. She'd been hoping to see him, but her stomach flopped uneasily when he spoke. What was he sorry for? He didn't say.

"She's making us stay overnight," Greer jerked her head towards the office door. They were fine, really, and the Healer had done her job, so there was no reason to make them stay. She didn't expect the Headmaster to care much, though. Staying overnight wasn't what she was actually upset about either. Lucinda understood.

"What's the word on the little monster?"

Greer blurted sulkily, before she lost her nerve, knowing full well that the Headmaster wouldn't appreciate her word choice.

He'd likely heard it before, about her.