Absit Omen RPG

A badger and a fox walk into a bar. There was certainly a joke to be made here, but it wasn’t a bar and the participants weren’t actually animals unless you counted the hair colour of one of them.

“You do this for all your friends? Pop by before the week they leave?”
“...if they tell me.”
“I’m honoured. So. Afore I go. You got anything you want to tell me? Ain’t seen you since we met, got me a little worried. Where do you wanna go?”
“Why me? Nothing you want to see before you leave?”
“You numpty, I can pop over here on a weekend to sightsee anytime. I’d rather you pick a place you wanna go. Think of it as preppin’ you for those date nights.”
“Wh-- You--” Grumbles ensued. “Fine. Hyde Park. Biggest secret I’ve ever kept, so don’t go around shouting it.”
“Biggest…? Oh. I see. Very droll, Arc. The biggest park in London. Somehow I’m not surprised that this is your type of humour as an adult.”

It was quite an okay day, as far as February days go.
“You don’t tell anyone about Hyde? Even if they ask what’s your favourite place in London?”
“No, why should I? This is the place I go to when I’m at my lowest point. It isn’t my ‘favourite’.”
“You’d be surprised. Those at their lowest point are open to the greatest change.”
“You say it like you’ve had personal experience with it.”
“I have. I’m very glad for it. That said, are you sayin’ that your lowest point is with me?”
“When did I ever say that? You… you just happen to be along for the ride.”
“To be fair, everythin’ your emotions do is like a wild ride anyway. Hope you don’t mind if I wanna get off later?” Her grin was immense mischief. “I’m jokin’. What’s on your mind? I get the feelin’ you need me here as a wall to protect your most vulnerable side, which you’re showin’ right now no doubt about it.”
“Nothing’s on my mind, just… feelings. Lots of silly feelings.”
“Now now, don’t be so hurtful to those feelins’. They’re not silly! You got a big heart, can’t you spare some of it for yourself? I know you wanna give it to people all the time, but you matter too.”
“But it is silly. It’s all just feelings of regret. Regrets on this, on that… Look, this isn’t the point. Why are you making it about me? This should be about you. You’re going back, you should’ve picked--”
“Shh. Shhhshhhhhshhshhhh. Stop. No. Not a word outta you. Shush. It’s very much about me as much as it is about you, Arc, because I get to spend time with a friend I’ve missed for ten years. Spendin’ time means listenin’ to all the goods and bads. Being there for both. I didn't ask you for your favourite place, Arc, I asked you where you wanted to go. You didn't mind me comin' along here. That means a big deal to me because I know it's a big deal to you to ask me to come here.”

They watched swans for a while.
“Is one of those regret feelins’ about Ceph?”
“What could I do to ask you to sometimes be a little less perceptive?”
“Hoho! So I’m spot on! Always feels good to be right. No, I was just wonderin’, but now it’s on the menu! You told me when we met not to talk about what happened so I won’t, but I’m surprised you managed to turn him off. He’s a chill guy.”
“You… know him?”
“Uh yeah. Pureblood circles and all that. Even if we weren’t I woulda made friends anyway. Yes, I know you feelin’ the guilt, class difference and all that. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again - class don’t make no bit o’ difference. Some people here act like their bum’s stuffed with tweed, sure, but you know I don’t and neither does he. We don’t mind mixin’ with others.”
“Then you’d be glad to know whatever transpired wasn’t that.”
“I don’t doubt it. Let me guess - was it your award-winnin’ need for self-pity? Your abrupt silence tells me yes. It was a guess you dolt, which I think that’s an appellation you deserve proper, but you can un-deserve it. Why don’t you start by apologisin’?”
“Do you think he wants to see me after that?”
“Maybe not? I can’t speak for him, but apologisin’ sounds right? How about a letter to start? You don’t have to see him, he don’t have to see you, you can write it in the confines of your private time in your office and he can deal with it whenever he feels like it. Nothin’ about confrontation.”
“It still shouldn’t be because I feel bad. It’s not-- it’s not about me.”
“What the f-- It is very much about him, as much as it is about you. He feels bad, you feel bad. Your apologisin’ lets him know you didn’t mean it, you were being a goof and you didn’t mean to make him feel bad. So just do it.”
“He gets to move on.”
“So do you!”

Silence.
“Oh, that hurt didn’t it? It means you like him, and that’s fine. That should be embraced. Now it’s time that you stop worryin' about what the world thinks when you f-- mess up, and start thinkin' about how to move forward and make up for things as you go along. The world won’t wait for you, you’re right. But with you tryin’ to sort your life out, you’re makin’ to show an attempt to move forward and that’s great! Good effort.”
The slap on his back made him wheeze.
“It’ll be hard, but you’re showin’ that you wanna move forward and be better. I know you’re tired and emotionally drained and mentally exhausted, but you gotta believe in yourself. Put your big heart in front of yourself. Be you. Be scared, but brave. It’s okay to be scared.”
“It’s scary to be myself. What if people take advantage of it or don't like it?”
“That’s on them, not you. Not your fault. Let them know you don’t like being taken advantage of. Show more of your feelings, talk about them more, don’t hide them under excuses. Everyone’s too polite these days, it’s infuriating. See? You agree with me! So what are you going to do about it?”

It took a bit of time. “Be me.”
“You got it.” The grin was back. “First step on the way to being yourself. And if you still don’t believe in yourself, believe in me who believes you can do it. Okay?”
“I can’t make any promises to not let you down.”
“I don’t need a promise, Arc. I know you won’t.”

“North, huh?” Lyra paused for a couple of minutes, a hesitant sort of pause. “How far north, again? Sorry, I gotta ask you to help jog my memory - things have been sort of a blur the past month or so.”

"But tell me, you're not going to just pop into the crypt and fly back, are you? Sticking around for a while I hope?"

“When you say ‘stickin’ around’,” she replied, raising an eyebrow, “I’m thinkin’ here, ‘do I tell him I’m stayin’ for a month’? If I haven’t already said. If I have, forgive me - like I said, life’s been a blur lately.” She picked up the mug of coffee, took a look at it, and then set it back down. “But I’m thinkin’ as well, does he also mean, ‘stayin’ with the gov’?”

The besuited woman leaned back in the chair, draping a lazy arm across the back of it. Her other hand rested in her lap as she tilted her head, gazing at him. “No can do, Balfour. Got my mum in Germany. Don’t be tellin’ me,” her tone took on the same jesting air that he had, “you’re wantin’ I leave her on her lonesome there? ‘Sides, I got a pretty good gig at Black Forest and the German Ministry. With all this work, you could just see me flit back and forth like a billywig on a sugar high.”

She leaned forward. “Or you just be missin’ me now?” Her words were followed up by a cheeky wink, before she laughed and sat back. “To be honest, I do want to reconnect, but it’s been over a decade since I left. I feel like the proverbial Grindylow out of water just standin’ in the Atrium, and the fountain isn’t makin’ up for it.”

Lyra finally picked the mug back up again and took a gulp of its contents. “Let me know if I read you wrong there.”

Despite whatever he might have been hoping for her to do, Lyra didn’t fill in any of his pauses. She had no intentions of interrupting him partially out of manners and partially because she’d always been one to encourage people to talk things out.

“People be people,” she said, her eyes affixed on the spot in the air where his fingertips had pressed upon each other and the emphasis of ‘teensy bit’. “I’m sorry to hear that, it’s not on. You coulda had personal reasons for not applyin’ and it was none o’ their business.” She looked up at him. “For what my opinion’s worth to you, I don’t think it’s stupid to feel jealous. Just human.”

Lyra finally did pick up her cup again, raising it to her lips as her gaze drifted to the side. Her hand lowered, the gap between the white rim and her lips widening. “So I guess a lot of people been seein’ you as not climbin’ the ladder, unlike comparatively successful Spectre? Enough about him then. What’s the good stuff you’ve done all this time? I wanna hear you talk about somethin' you are proud of doin'.” She beamed at him encouragingly.

“Beings. Sorry, that’s right. Right slip of the tongue that.” Lyra pinched the bridge of her nose, scrunching her face as she squeezed her eyes shut. “_{Maybe that was too much caffeine.} Well… I ain’t gonna deny that dragon handlers don’t live long. I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t worried about it myself.”

One hand reached out for her cup to drink, but she glanced at the quarter of black left and changed her mind, pushing it out of the way to the right. Her gaze followed it, away from Cepheus. “If it’s all the same to you, I don’t plan on workin’ here, really. Just between you and me, I’m not comfy with England much these days for a lot o’ reasons. Some of ‘em family related, others just bad memories.

“‘Sides, I see Spectre’s name enough in the reserve. His name’s in their dragon handler hall of fame plaque that’s, like, on full display in the lobby. See it every mornin’ at work, ha ha ha.” Her laugh was more weary and dry than mirthful. “Don’t tell ‘im, I beg you.”

She looked up at him, though her head was still angled downwards.“You don’t… seem too happy about the, uh, shufflin’ on the ladder goin’ on. Office politics, that sort? Or somethin’ on your mind? No judgin’, just not every day I feel tetchiness from someone.”

If she had been in more familiar company she would be interjecting after almost every statement made from the other side. But she wasn’t in more familiar company, so she refrained from speaking and merely watched Cepheus as he spoke. It would be a little unnerving if he noticed; she tended to watch every little thing intensely as if her life depended on it.

“You lot seem to be doing pretty well, alright,” she said when he’d finished. “All progressin’ in life, findin’ people to be with, findin’ a niche in the world for yourself, you bein’ Head of Beast Division. Sounds good, and I’m bein’ honest. Real happy to see you doin’ well.” Lyra smiled warmly. “All them brothers and sisters and relatives. Hell, I don’t even know what my b--” She paused. Cepheus did know she had a brother, but she rarely ever wanted to talk about him. None of her family did, much. “Never mind that. Some things best left to lie right where they are.”

She took another sip of her coffee, clearly enjoying it. “How’s your mum then? You must be close by if you don’t want to leave her by herself?”

“We’re in Heidelberg, Germany,” she clarified, setting her cup down and taking her intense stare off of him. “Just a hop, skip and a jump through the International Floo at Berlin. That said, I got a job down at the Black Forest Dragon Reserve. Keepin’ an eye on migration routes, nestin’ sites, preventin’ Muggle sightings, givin’ educational talks at schools about dragons and takin’ care of ‘em… I got my hands full.” Her eyes turned to look at him. “So if Spectre wants to recruit, he’s in for a disappointment unless he can make a better offer than dragons in the field.”

Lyra shifted herself, arms on the table as she leaned against it, glancing away from him. “My mum’s alright. Havin’ a bit of peace. She didn’t want me to come back here, yknow? But I’ve told her that dragons are a lot more risky than ‘England’s ouroboros tendencies’, at least that’s what she calls it,” she rolled her eyes a little, “and she’s conceded that I can handle it. She's just worried for me, nothin' wrong with that.”

She reached out to pick up her cup again, but hesitated. Her brow furrowed.

“...why would Balfour be recruitin’?” she asked, looking back up at him. “Serious lack o’ manpower after Carter? I’d be of no use on werewolves or vampires, yeah I read about your vampire business ongoings too. Non-sentient magical creatures, that’s my forte. I’ll help the best I can with those, like right now with the dragon breed mystery, but,” she sucked in air through her teeth in a hiss, “well, you know where I live now. Just call me if you need me. I won’t get mad about it, I promise.” She flashed him a sincere toothy grin.

“I’ll be back here often for a friend-- if I can find a friend, and now that the German Ministry has got a liaison they’ll probably knock on my door about it later in the year too. Between you and me, I foresee a lot of Germany knockin' on my door.” Lyra picked up her cup to drink, a signal to Cepheus that he could start talking again.

She drank from her coffee as she listened to him list off the news, her eyes keeping steady watch in what could be called uncharacteristic silence from her. As he finished she lowered his cup, green gaze unmoving.

“Hmm, well let’s see.” Lyra set the cup down on the table, stuck out a hand with fingers splayed and pressed one index finger against the other. “Heard about Carter, nasty way to go, sorry about that, news was scant but I’m sure I don’t need the grisly bits about how he was torn apart anyway.” Her index finger landed on the next one in line. “Heard about the compromised safehouse, and we got lotsa wizarding pundits on the news arguin’ over what this means for werewolf rights in Britain. Kinda scary if you ask me.”

Another finger. “I did not hear about Ballentyne, now that’s ballsy but when you’ve got a lot of lives at stake I think I get her, yknow?” Lyra looked approving regardless. “And of course, Balfour up top now. Appointed, I hear, not elected. I was, like, super surprised at how fast the news came out after Carter’s death.” The dragonologist raised her eyebrows at him. “Wasn't there anyone else considered for the post? Or were you guys like in a hurry about it?”

She lowered her hand back to the table. “So what will you guys do to the Ministry diviners if they get their Rune-O-Vision wrong, and the next full moon is just as sucky as the first?” Lyra grinned. "As for why I’m here - you’re the first to ask outside of the loop, actually.” She put up her fingers and pointed them left. “Britain,” pointed to the right, “Germany,” pointed to herself, “me, liaison. I’m here for a month dealin’ with the first case, an unidentified dragon breed. Then who knows, I’ll be back and forth like a mouse scurryin’ between good waterin’ holes most likely. Spectre recruitin’? Nah. Not me.”

Lyra paused, her eyes now looking towards the door rather than the old family friend. “I ain’t comin’ back here to live, at least not permanently. I don’t really wanna leave my mum by herself, and there’s not much reason yet to stay. She still has a lot of strong opinions about England, y’know?” She looked back at him with a chuckle. “And dad, well… he hasn’t really stopped about the blood thing. He’s more subtle about it now, doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

She clasped her hands in front of her. “How’s family on your end? All still good? Makin’ names for yourself just like your great-whoever did with ol’ Gamp’s Law? I’m jokin’ on the last one,” she added hastily.

“I’m all sortsa good. And no biggie! It’ll be my treat,” Lyra called after him. She got into the line rubbing her hands absently, her eyes following Cepheus’s figure to see where he was going and remember the table he’d picked. The cafe had barely one or two tables left, and the last thing she wanted was accidentally taking the long route to a wrong table and then having to navigate the tight spaces with coffees in hand to the right one.

His suggestion did not go unheeded, and after a quick clarification from the barista on exactly what the phrase dragon coffee entailed she was all in for it. It was but a moment to wait for both drinks, and another to head to where Cepheus was seated. She set them down carefully on the table, sliding his order towards him gently before taking her coat off to reveal one of her usually loud graphic tees, draping it over the back of her chair and sliding into her seat. She was directly facing the door, she noted.

“I don’t remember much about a coffee place that does a dragon drink, but thanks to you for suggestin’ it,” she said cheerfully. “Blimey it’s been a while since I’ve been back here and all, Diagon’s changed and not changed at the same time. Different shops, same old face.”

Lyra took a sip, swallowed and immediately coughed with a genuinely delighted smile. “Perfect. I love this already. So, what’s been goin’ on with you, the family, the Ministry?” she asked. “I’ve only heard one or two things along the grapevine, but the grapevine’s never had sure footin’ to keep all the news in one piece by the time it gets to the other end. Ever. The only thing I know is the werewolf business, it’s gone a little international so to speak.”

She picked up her cup. “I’ll letcha answer. Let me know if I talk too much, I’m tryin’ to work on it. Family, work, country. Don't feel too pressured to tell me everythin' though, unless you gotta be somewhere pronto."

It should have been fairly cold outside, but the weekend crowd in Diagon Alley did warm the streets a little. Lyra stuck her gloved hands in the pockets of her overcoat, wandering the maze of streets until she finally found the place she was looking for.

The aroma of coffee hit her sinuses like a train as she entered, but it only made her grin lopsidedly in anticipation of having a good dose of caffeine in her system. There were quite a number of customers in the café, no doubt getting themselves a hot drink on such a cold day. She cast her gaze around for the person she was meant to meet up with, to give the requisite greeting before getting their orders.

Meeting Cepheus could have gone a little better, she mused, if she hadn’t let slip her first reason for remembering him was watching him get shoved into a dung heap at Hogwarts. Lyra would have pulled him out if it were not for her fellow Slytherin perpetrators thinking of having her share it with him. That he would remember her was more of a surprise, since she had only stood by to watch in sympathy.

But bygones were bygones. She was more sympathetic that he’d agreed to come out in this weather to catch up with her, which was nice of him. Sure their family had been friends, but the Averys weren’t exactly on speaking terms with a lot of people lately.

“Ah!” She finally saw him and waved vigorously to catch his attention. Pulling her mittens off, she weaved around people to reach him. “‘Sup? I mean, how are you doin’?” Lyra stuffed her gloves into a pocket as she beamed. “I’ll order the coffee, just let me know whatcha want. Not sure what your seatin’ preferences are, but I’ll letcha pick. I take a while to decide and someone might grab the good seat while I’m mullin’ over it, y’know?”

Green eyes stared at the impassively grand stone facade, taking in the details. A little more stained with water, a little more cracked, but still holding up. Of course it would always be holding up. Wizarding houses rarely failed structurally, and this was the Avery estate. Years and years of magic.

Lyra exhaled, mist curling in front of her face in a flurry, took her hand out of her pockets and walked up to the grand front doors. She held up her fist and resignedly gave it a sharp rap.

Within a minute one door opened noiselessly. She looked down at the house elf wearing an old tee that was way too big, one she recognised as part of a childhood outfit, and beamed. All traces of her previous gloom were gone in a flash.

“Hey Pooky.” She stepped in and set down her suitcase before kneeling down to bring herself to the house elf’s eye level. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Yes it has, Mistress Lyra.” Pooky bowed. “Would Mistress Lyra be back to live in England?”

Lyra chuckled. “Nah. I’ve missed you, Pooky, but that’s not why I’m here.” She looked up as something moved on the sweeping staircase above them. The figure above was impressively well-dressed in a patterned waistcoat and satin cravat in tastefully desaturate colours, but his wardrobe did not hold a candle to the impressive shaggy mane of white hair. With the scars on his face, his broad jaw and his broken nose, it would not be out of place to remark how much he resembled an old lion.

“Hey, dad,” she said, a little more reluctantly than she had meant to let on..

Lucian Avery stared at his daughter as if in utter disbelief at seeing her there. “Lyra? Is that really you? How long has it been?”

The redhead got to her feet. Amidst the cold, dull colours of the house, her hair stood out like a bright wildflower in grass. “Fourteen years, dad. Ever since… you know.” She hoped there was no need to bear repetition of what happened then. Her mother was less likely to forgive him, but Lyra did so hold out hope for nearly everyone she knew. Her father was no exception.

He strode down the stairs and made as if to embrace her, but stopped himself last minute. She could see the hesitation and fear in his eyes. “I… don’t suppose you could spare a hug for your old man?”

It was an improvement from what she remembered of him. Lyra allowed him a brief embrace. “How have you been doing, dad?” she asked, remembering what her mother had said to her before she had left for England. Be wary of your father. Stop and read between the lines, Lyra. Not everyone will be so blunt and direct with you. Take a deep breath and consider what you’re telling, what you’re being told. Protect yourself and for Merlin’s sake don’t talk so much. But here he was, looking and sounding less terrifying than he had been during Voldemort’s reign. She remembered when the Aurors had arrived at the estate to question him in the wake of his brother’s arrest at the end of the war. Not a nice memory.

Lucian’s chuckle and wry smile did not endear him to her much, despite her usually optimistic outlook on people. “I’m doing well for myself, Lyra. Retirement is fine as-is, and I have my own projects to keep my hands busy. But enough about me, what of you? I haven’t heard of what your job is, where you’re living. It’s been a while, after all.” He motioned to Pooky. “Come, let’s have a light tea while we chat.”

“Thanks for the offer, dad, but I’m really not here to linger.” Her heart melted a little at her father’s crestfallen expression. “I just came by to check out my room, say hi to Pooky… you know.”

“Not to me, your old man?”

Lyra hesitated. It hadn’t been number one priority on her mind. “No,” she said bluntly, “but you know why.” There was no point in lying. Her father would suss her out almost immediately and she made a bad liar besides.

Lucian sighed. “I only wanted what was best for you, Lyra.”

“Dad, telling me that my friends aren’t cool to hang out with because they’re not pureblood didn’t really qualify for that did it?” Lyra gave him a look. “Is Uncle Hadrien still in Azkaban? I can tell by your face he is. Good, he won’t be dealin’ you more lies about Voldie’s reign and how he’s perfect for all o’ us purebloods.” She softened seeing her father’s expression. “Look. Dad. I’m not here to, like, come and discuss about this, okay? I just wanted to come home. See for myself the place if it’s changed. Well.” She gestured at the head of the giant peryton mounted on the wall above the staircase for all to see. “You haven’t got rid of that. But that’s not what I’m here for either.”

“Then,” Lucian looked genuinely perplexed, “why are you here?”

Lyra shrugged with nonchalance. “I… wanted to come back to where I was born and raised and all that. It’s been fourteen years, dad. Home is still home.” She sighed and lifted a hand to ruffle her hair. “That’s all. So, dad, if you feel like, I dunno, makin’ some sort of talk about how you feel about things between mum and you, or you and me, then well… I’m really not here for that. Honestly I’m not comfortable to talk about things after I came back from the war and the first thing you did was scold me for being covered in the blood of a non-pureblood. Like. I dunno about you, but I was just so done then. It wasn’t up for discussion then,” she added, seeing him open his mouth, “and it’s still not up for discussion now.”

Lucian closed his mouth, giving his daughter a look she knew all too well. A pained expression that told her he knew that mending the past was going to be a lot more difficult than either party wanted. She could feel the gap between them and it had weighed heavy on her mind and heart ever since she left the country. While she was aware of the things he’d done, she was still willing to give him a chance. What would Arc have said if he knew she was giving even her purist-minded father another go? “Always the optimist, looking for the best in others.”

At length her father closed his eyes. “I… understand. I know the words I said were an unwise choice. I really do hope you’ll find it in yourself to forgive me.”

Lyra smiled, half in exasperation and half in affection. “Not so fast, dad. One day. But not today.” She hesitated. “Mum doesn’t want you to know, but… I’m staying here just for a month. Then who knows, I’ll come and visit when I can.” The redhead picked up her suitcase from the stone floor. “I need to look for a friend at the moment, but when I get a breather from work I’ll drop by for tea.”

Perhaps she was making a mistake. Her mother would be cross with her if she found out, but Lyra never let that stop her. As she turned away, she heard the intake of breath behind her. “Which friend is this?”

She craned her neck to look around at him. “The last time I mentioned him you reprimanded me for being friends with him. Let’s keep this a happy meeting, shall we?” The redhead looked down at the house elf, who had shyly lifted a hand to wave goodbye. “Bye, Pooky. I’ll see you again some day.”

Lyra had barely reached the doors when she heard her father say, “Such a waste of magical potential in a halfblood…” She gave no sign that she heard it, but she was sure it had been meant for her to hear.

That would be another problem, for another day. She stepped out of the house and breathed in the fresh crisp winter air. Now she would have to assess a way to find out where he lived. If he, indeed, was alive.

The time of giving is here! \o/

neon lights out, festive lights in

If anyone is to be found spontaneously breaking into song and dance, it is the Entertainer personality type. Entertainers get caught up in the excitement of the moment, and want everyone else to feel that way, too. No other personality type is as generous with their time and energy as Entertainers when it comes to encouraging others, and no other personality type does it with such irresistible style.

Entertainers love the spotlight, and all the world’s a stage. Many famous people with the Entertainer personality type are indeed actors, but they love putting on a show for their friends too, chatting with a unique and earthy wit, soaking up attention and making every outing feel a bit like a party. Utterly social, Entertainers enjoy the simplest things, and there’s no greater joy for them than just having fun with a good group of friends.

It’s not just talk either – Entertainers have the strongest aesthetic sense of any personality type. From grooming and outfits to a well-appointed home, Entertainer personalities have an eye for fashion. Knowing what’s attractive the moment they see it, Entertainers aren’t afraid to change their surroundings to reflect their personal style. Entertainers are naturally curious, exploring new designs and styles with ease.

Though it may not always seem like it, Entertainers know that it’s not all about them – they are observant, and very sensitive to others’ emotions. People with this personality type are often the first to help someone talk out a challenging problem, happily providing emotional support and practical advice. However, if the problem is about them, Entertainers are more likely to avoid a conflict altogether than to address it head-on. Entertainers usually love a little drama and passion, but not so much when they are the focus of the criticisms it can bring.

The biggest challenge Entertainers face is that they are often so focused on immediate pleasures that they neglect the duties and responsibilities that make those luxuries possible. Complex analysis, repetitive tasks, and matching statistics to real consequences are not easy activities for Entertainers. They’d rather rely on luck or opportunity, or simply ask for help from their extensive circle of friends. It is important for Entertainers to challenge themselves to keep track of long-term things like their retirement plans or sugar intake – there won’t always be someone else around who can help to keep an eye on these things.

Entertainers recognize value and quality, which on its own is a fine trait. In combination with their tendency to be poor planners though, this can cause them to live beyond their means, and credit cards are especially dangerous. More focused on leaping at opportunities than in planning out long-term goals, Entertainers may find that their inattentiveness has made some activities unaffordable.

Entertainers are welcome wherever there’s a need for laughter, playfulness, and a volunteer to try something new and fun – and there’s no greater joy for Entertainer personalities than to bring everyone else along for the ride. Entertainers can chat for hours, sometimes about anything but the topic they meant to talk about, and share their loved ones’ emotions through good times and bad. If they can just remember to keep their ducks in a row, they’ll always be ready to dive into all the new and exciting things the world has to offer, friends in tow.

Ah, dragons. Now that was something she could talk about, rather than her lack of information on what had been going on in England when it had had a distinctly Lyra-shaped hole in it for a decade. She never tired of talking about dragons and she knew every single acquaintance she'd made over the years knew that. Whether they avoided her for it or not was their choice and didn't bother her much on the matter - she couldn't expect everyone to like dragons as much as she did, and she was alright with that.

But he had every right to know ever since the decision had been made to get England involved, whether he asked or not. "Okay I'll try to keep this as precise as possible. Gotta work on my information-dispensin' skills. Tell me if I go off the rails, yeah?" She paused and took a deep breath.

"You know the Black Forest is one of those migratory dragon rest-stops in Europe right? We've seen aplenty of dragons over the years, all kinds of breeds. Well the rangers found this dead dragon, carcass mostly rotted away but should still be recognisable roughly, and brought it in for examination like we do always. Should've been almost seven feet in shoulder height, so fairly young based on the breed." She gestured vaguely in a rectangular shape, presumably in an attempt to visualise the dragon with her hands though it wasn't as helpful as it could have been.

"But that's the problem see. Based on preliminary examination, we can't tell what the breed is. Head's not all rotted but the eyes are gone already. Short snout like the Swedish, teeth like a Horntail's, horns like an Ironbelly. Hide's dark green, but closest matching was either Welsh Green - snout was too short, and we're not in their migratory route - or Longhorn, but horns aren't Longhorn. Harder still is that it's young, so some features may not be fully developed yet but since some of the body is gone we can't tell what's missing." Lyra put up her hands in an exaggerated shrug. "Do you see where this is goin'? You're getting questions in your head. We most likely have the same ones."

The dragonologist picked up the cup of coffee, but that didn't stop her from continuing. "We preserved the remains and started comparin' to what we got. Which is... not a lot, but we made do. Called in a few favours, checked in with a couple of museums, had a chat over coffee with other reserves. They had nothing, but they suggested we look at the bones since that was a better indicator. Except that not everyone's got bones to compare, and some are fragile enough that we couldn't get them moved even if we wanted to. That said, seems like England's got the biggest archive of Hebrideans and Welsh Greens, including all the varieties."

Lyra drank deeply from the cup, which might have been a bit more than was normal. "We called up Norway for some of their records as well. In all of Europe the biggest collections lie with England, Norway and Romania. Russia too, but Russia doesn't want to share, said no in as many ways as possible so we're not gonna press. We can't bring any part of the specimen with us in case someone catches wind of it, or it gets damaged. So Germany said, hey how about you go talk to England for us, and I said, yeah sure I'm due a return to the old home and a need to locate an old friend. Two augureys with one stone."

She looked down into the mug, mildly surprised at the coffee. "Huh, this isn't too bad." Lyra looked back up. "I might have missed some details, so prod me with questions. We've tried our best and some of the other reserves did too, but Black Forest isn't so big as to afford such a wide reference base on its own. Some are sayin' we're just conjurin' a storm in a teapot. Maybe we are, but we'd like to be sure before we release anything. Wouldn't do if this was a big fuss over nothin', or dismiss a new hybrid that might jostle for competition with others. So, you see," she finished apologetically, "not actually a huge business, but could be. Could be a sniff of gold, could be dust in the wind. That's why I wasn't so keen on interruptin' you guys."

“Well, I’ll be, if it isn’t Balfour. Coffee’ll do.” Lyra looked around his office in exaggerated wide-eyed fascination as she strode in like a green yardstick. “Snagged yourself a fancy office. Look at you, movin’ up in the world! I wouldn’t expect any less though, not for someone as proper posh as you - in fact I’d be right disappointed if you said you were aiming for any less than Head of Department.”

She sat down with a flump in the proffered chair and watched him. “So how’ve you been, you rascal? I imagine you’ve been doin’ less runnin’ around wrangling dragons uphill and downhill seven ways through the snow? Pre-Department Head and all that. You look in good shape, if you don’t mind me saying.” Her suitcase made contact with the floor before she reclined in the chair as if she belonged there, regardless of what type of chair it was.

“That said, mate,” she said, “sorry to hear about all that business with the werewolf. I was pointing out you guys were having to deal with a crazy guy with some werewolf hate on his mind to my superiors in Black Forest, but they said the Ministry wants this straightened out on the dot, y’know? Just in case we got a new hybrid flyin’ over making new migratory routes and messin’ up balance in Europe. But it isn’t as big as the dilemma you guys are going through even if my mum told me to expect nothing new.” She grinned apologetically. “Would I be right in sayin’ you guys lost a pretty cool member of your department? Condolences to you lot and his family, either way, it’s a sad day when a coworker dies, unless he wasn’t much liked. I hope he was.”

Well she was on fire after seeing her old acquaintance, but even then she had to reel that back in. They still were in the Ministry, after all - Germany had been drilling some more professionalism into her. Lyra sat up in the chair properly, suddenly aware she was lounging just like an old cat in front of a hearth.

7:00am

She felt the slightest pang of being old as she stepped out of the massive fireplace amidst the roaring green flames and was greeted by the green facade of the Atrium. As Ministry employees streamed past her, she stopped and gazed upwards at the sight before her.

“Ah, England,” she said. “Never change.”

Then she was at the security stand, presenting her wand with a flourish to the surprised watch-wizard on shift. Dressed in a white shirt with a dark green blazer and trousers, she seemed not so out of place as a Ministry employee, but her red-orange hair stood out among the less saturated colours of the Atrium.

“Lyra Avery, German Ministry of Magic. They’ve already sent a warning ahead because they’re like that, you know? But here’s a copy of the letter again just in case, no need to rifle through your records aye.” She airily let the watch-wizard wave his Probity Probe over her. “Anyway, mind me asking which floor’s Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, you know all that jazz? Could do with shortening it into something snappy.”

“You’re looking for Level Four, you mean?” supplied the watch-wizard. “Lift’s that way.” He pointed.

Lyra nodded and picked up her suitcase. “Cheers mate. Have a good day yeah?” She left him feeling slightly bewildered, as if he’d just had an old friend come up to him to say hi before moving on.

It had been ages. For all her casual airiness, she felt as if she’d stepped into a world alien to what she was familiar with. She’d not been back to England since the war and of course it was normal to feel out of place, but boy was it a Feeling. Lyra shrugged it off, as she was wont to do - best focus on the present and not losing her way - and made her way to Level Four in a lift with a few employees who gave her odd looks and a couple of purple memos.

She’d heard the news just before she’d stepped into the International Floo. Balfour being Head of Department, huh? She had no idea, then, who to speak to if the position of Beast Head was empty. Her case seemed small compared to the werewolf hunting she’d been reading about in the German papers, but Germany had insisted on getting started on the matter.

After accosting an innocent employee to ask directions, she finally made her way to the right place without further issues. Lyra stopped to hike her suitcase up onto one knee and rifle through it for the initial paperwork she had to get him to sign, looking slightly out of place while she did so and earning herself a look from what must be his secretary. But hey, bureaucracy wasn’t always perfect.

The redhead presented her papers. “Lyra Avery, German Ministry of Magic, here to see the Head of the Dep-- Level Four by appointment,” she told the bespectacled old lady at the desk. “Date was sent ahead of my arrival, but here’s all the stuff again if you need it.”

Frau
Lyra Avery
Schwarzwald Dragon Reserve
Baden-Württemberg
Germany

Herr
Balfour Spectre
Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures
Ministry of Magic
England

Dear Balfour,

Haven't seen you in a long time. How's things? I'm sure they're all going spankingly well with you, though I won't account for England. My mum insists that England gets itself into trouble every other month, so I'll assume that for the sake of this letter.

I'm writing to let you know that I'll be dropping by England for a month or so to discuss some dragony matters with you. Specifically, it's to do with the latest discovery of dragon remains in the Black Forest.These particular remains don't match any of the records we have on hand about hybrid breeds or the ten pure breeds in Europe. 

We don't have that many dragon remains to compare on hand and other places in Germany have turned up nothing significant either. Black Forest has proposed they make me British liaison to your department to get some of yours to look at because we're thorough like that. You - and by you I mean England - have got one of the largest collections on hand with all the varieties, so naturally you guys got brought up in the conversation.

Procedure states I have to be there in person to receive the documents on hand as well as sign all the guarantees and forms and whatnot. Not to mention I'm supposed to make sure that they are going to be packaged with my own eyes along with you as authority on this. Signed and underlined with both our hands.

I'll probably make the trip earlier to find an old friend, if I can even find him - hopefully not dead but who knows - but I will be seeing you probably end of January or beginning of February give or take the schedule Germany wants me to be on, and what you say back to them too.

Enclosed is their letter to you, for records. Just let em know when you can receive this business on your schedule.

Hope I'm not coming in on a troubling time, if England is still trying to eat itself alive for the umpteenth time. See you around when I get there. I promise this time I'll let you know when I'm coming in, and no it won't be with trying to shove a dragon skull through the front door again. I swear on it.

Gruß Cheers,
Lyra

PS: This was supposed to be a formal letter as a colleague of mine advised, but I'm up to here with writing formal letters in German after writing like a hundred dozen to the other dragon sanctuaries and museums etc in Germany for help. Sorry bout that, you know me though.