Absit Omen RPG

That went down like a lead feather. Ambrose felt like they were being told off, as bad as being given detention by Professor Storm. Mrs Ballentyne went on at length at why Zeta’s request was inappropriate.

“She’s not,” Ambrose was surprised to hear his own voice, “she’s not asking to see it happen, ma’am,” he reasoned politely. “Zeta’s researching for school, about the inquiry and all.” He glanced to his cousin. “See if we can get others to understand it better.” This all seemed to just deepen the scrutiny from the witches. Ambrose gestured in appeal with his hands, elaborating, “There are some misconceptions amongst the Hogwarts community as to the conditions, or the purpose of coming all the way down here, rather than a safehouse in the forest.” He swallowed uncomfortably. “No offence was meant, honest, Zeta’s just rather passionate to ensure SAWS is about for good, right, Zee?” He flexed his arm as if about to elbow her in prompt.

Osha recognised Sam straight away it seemed, the Knight Bus conductor had been into Floriblunders. Ambrose had no idea what the deal with petals were, but he was glad Sam had a connection to someone else already.

“Oh, Saaam…” Zeta suddenly exclaimed. “Hi. Didn’t recognise you. Hi again.”

“… would anyone like a drink? I’ll buy.” 

Meredith and Blake arrived together, looking very cozy. Ambrose felt a pang of regret that he was no longer at Hogwarts, and this sort of hooking up with classmates was no longer available. He’d been single for all the time he’d been out for his apprenticeship. The moment he’d started thinking it would be good to date he’d been isolated away from anyone his age, as they were all at Hogwarts.

“Hey,” he greeted Meredith, “Hey Blake!” He greeted his fellow wizard a little more enthusiastically. They were the other side of the table though, greeting their school friends with hugs.
“Oh hey friend! Long time no see!” Blake returned warmly.

“Anyone need a drink?”
“Oh, Sam was about to…” Ambrose spoke awkwardly. Sam had just offered just as Meredith and Blake had interrupted and taken the attention away. Luckily people didn’t seem to notice his awkward and more introductions were made.

“Hey, you’re older!” Heather suddenly exclaimed at Sam like she had a permanent sonorous charm. “Get us some proper drinks, like?” Ambrose cringed.
“… I’ll have a martini. Osha? You want one?” Zeta jumped on the bandwagon.
“Oh, um. Just a chocolate stout if they have it.” Osha added a little more quietly.

“You don’t have to,” Ambrose uttered quietly, to Sam, feeling his old friends had put her rather on the spot.

“… need ta see some identification too…” Unfortunately Heather’s broadcast and Zeta’s follow up had drawn the attention of someone squeezing past with a drinks tray, who worked at Rovers…

“How about the rest of you lot?”
“Just a bottle of butterbeer for me please…” Ambrose raised a hand to his shoulder to indicate he was speaking. “Thanks.”

“So werewolves come here every full moon? And do what?”

“Er, they…” Ambrose began, turning at the sound of rollerskates on the office floor. It was a complete distraction to see Dido gliding down the office thoroughfare on wheels.

“They sit down and take tea with the Queen!” She replied humorously, towering over them with the extra wheel height. Ambrose was awed at the appearance. They looked cool.

“Hah!” He hooted, and then gathered himself, spying Zeta’s expression. She was on a serious mission.

“What do you think?” Dido continued, “They check-in and walk into their five star hotel bedrooms. Wake up feeling refreshed to room service. What’s up Peps,” She issued him with a grin he couldn’t help but return as enthusiastically, “bring your girlfriend to work day?”

“Hey! - er, what?” His jaw hung slack, brain working as quickly as it could to resolve this conflict. Zeta wasn’t his girlfriend? Why did Dido assume she was? Was she sounding him out on the girlfriend front? Why did it bother him? Was it because Dido was lovely? Ambrose’s brain took a mental stunner.

“Not sure I remember the last time I woke up feeling refreshed.” Another voice interrupted. Oh Merlin, now Dido’s boss was here. Ballentyne, the one who made Penny cry the day that vampire eyed Ambrose up. His stomach lurched. This was the sort of person he meant when he’d told Zeta it wasn’t Balfour he was worried about encountering them…

“Hogwarts shipping you to us early, now?”

“Er, hi, erm, sorry, this is Zeta, Zeta Pepper, my cousin.” Ambrose managed to explain, cheeks flushed, and gestured with both hands towards Zeta as he introduced his cousin to the witches. “She’s, er, here because…”

“They have full moon parties, it's gross. I'm surprised you haven't heard of it.“

Ambrose’s featured flickered with confusion and then realisation.
“OH!” He suddenly straightened, “That place!” He had heard of it, but he’d forgotten the name along the way. Of course Zeta would know.

“How do you do fellow kids?” Ambrose was surprised by the arrival, but brightened into a grin on recognising Sam out of uniform. “Its uh...good to see you again Ambrose.”

“Hey!” Ambrose greeted, echoed by Zeta. “Wow, you look different!” He was all smiles, chipper about his invitation being taken up. He’d mentioned it to Sam the other day when he’d had to take the Knight Bus back home. He was still riding it on the regular while he worked on retaking his apparition license. The first attempt had him splinch his bum off, a story he’d recounted to his new friend over the summer.

“Out of uniform, like.” Ambrose qualified, too innocent a soul to mean anything worse. “Guys this is Sam, Sam this is my cousin Zeta, Osha, and Heather. Glad you could come, you been here before?”

“Think we can get into Death & Co. after this?”
“I think they’d kick our arses out at Death & Co. But I heard Calaveras is easy…. if you want to investigate, not just for fun.”

Ambrose missed out on admiring Heather’s fingernails, not that he felt compelled to look. He had heard the girls mention Death & Co.
“I’ve been for drinks there,” he interrupted, “Death & Co. I mean,” he hastily added on reading their expressions. “I’ve not been to Calaveras yet. Not since it reopened anyway.”

He got into places because he was often with older company from work. Over summer he’d enjoyed getting to hang out with his old school friends on an evening, but he did feel rather grown up in comparison to them now.

Ambrose had adopted a style of many Beast Handlers, investing in a leather jacket which was beginning to look well loved, over a sleeveless t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He was sporting a bit of a tan from working outdoors, and his arms had sprouted biceps girls liked to squeeze if they saw them. His chin meanwhile was still home to the odd zit amongst new blonde-ginger stubble.

“What’s so bad about it again?”

“What do you mean silver?” Zeta demanded, “… that’s offensive…”

“I think,” Ambrose ventured tentatively, “it’s to protect them on full moon, like an amulet or charm or something. Or maybe it’s not real silver and just looks like it…” he suddenly doubted his own understanding of the goth-like WCU outfits.

“Heya, Peppers,” Figaro Sellaphix greeted as he passed by.
“Hey,” Ambrose replied automatically.

“I keep seeing him up here,” He remarked to Zeta, having not put two and two together. “But he works for the newspaper, right? I remember when he was doing the Howler at school. Hey, maybe you can join the paper too when you finish your NEWTs. Your cartoons would be epic.” Ambrose treasured all the ones Zeta doodled for him.

Ambrose wasn’t sure how to feel about two wizards studying his bum and declaring it ‘very good’. Later he’d feel a kind of relief, but at that moment all he felt was intense heat and the hope that nobody else could see his arse.

“Näktergal will come back about three o'clock to give them a final look …”

Oh joy.

“Do you have any questions Ambrose?”

“Er… no.. I don’t think so…” Ambrose mumbled, still rather out of step with what had happened to him that day. His bum would grow back as long as he didn’t move now and he didn’t sit down or do anything strenuous for a couple of days. That was right, wasn’t it?

“… Thanks?” He offered awkwardly, not wishing to prolong this uncomfortable interaction much longer. “Can you tell my dad he can come back now?”

“It’s not Balfour I’m worried about…” Ambrose uttered quietly.

He’d made the suggestion back at Zeta’s summer family bbq party. The garden had been full of chattering wix, enjoying the localised meteorological charm parting the wind and clouds to ensure a sunny spell for the gathering. Half a decade ago the cousins would have been tearing around, playing haphazard tag between the clusters of adults, or causing mischief. Now they were almost all grown up, and even Tim and Eta, the youngest bar baby Amelia, were old enough to hold their own in conversation.

Zeta and Ambrose had ended up perched on a low wall, deep in conversation about Zeta’s request back at Hogsmeade. Ambrose had not been entirely successful in finding out the deep detail Zeta desired of the werewolf holding cells, but in his defence he’d recently been away on a weekend intensive course on how to ride Kelpies and before that a week-long training camp led by a centaur to improve fitness test resolve and fortitude alongside trainee hitwizards, aurors and other practical magicians. In his exasperation at her insistent quizzing he’d thrown up his hands and suggested she came along and took a look for herself. Like a boggart, once released, it was difficult to get the idea back in the wardrobe, because you knew it was there.

“So, uh,” Ambrose began, more as a cover to anyone eyeing up Zeta as they traversed the office, “Beast Division over here, that’s me, and then over there is Spirit Division, ghosts and such, and then round here is Being Division…” he pointed out the pools of desks segmented by busy walkways. There were people sat at odd desks, but many were empty, owing to the fact their owners preferred to be outside. Two house elves passed them, discussing pillowcase patterns. “But if you follow the jangle of silver,” Ambrose added in a low voice, “you find yourself approaching the Werewolf Wing…”

“It’s the girl upstairs, right? The one who’s been crying… I’ve given her the top floor so she can have more privacy, more or less.”

“Yeah,” Ambrose confirmed, “and… yeah.” His gaze drifted upwards, thinking of the interaction he’d had with Lucinda. Maybe he ought to go back up, and try and speak to her. Cheer her up. He didn’t smell so bad now, after all.

But the bus was turning, and Ambrose could see familiar London sights streaking past the many windows of the triple-decker bus. The Ministry was approaching. Ambrose and his creature charges would soon be on their way into the office and then to home and a proper bed! One which didn’t need to be bolted down and the occupant strapped in.

“Look out for her,” Ambrose asked, not really knowing the right thing to say as the bus screamed to a halt outside a familiar staff entrance disguised as a public toilet. “I better get flushed and settle these guys in.” He set aside the hot chocolate and seized his wand to unbind the net from the luggage rack.

“And Sam, I owe you mate,” Ambrose reached out a hand to clasp, “creature loose on the bus, or need a pint, look me up.” He grinned, acting all grown up. Ambrose shouldered the net, swung off the bus and raised a hand in the early dawn to Sam in farewell.

“Not long at all,” Healer Misslethorpe replied without skipping a beat. He made it sound like they did this daily, which in a way, reassured Ambrose. He issued instructions about not sitting down for long, or hiking around. Should he just stand very still or remain lying on his front for the next two days? He’d have to tell Mr Fournier he couldn’t work… and why. The bed better swallow him whole.

“I need to take a look. Check everything is growing back nicely. Do you mind…?” Ambrose’s stomach lurched at this news.
“Oh.” He replied, staring back at the pillow before him, “Right.” He looked over his other shoulder, face creased awkwardly, “Dad, do you mind?” This was awkward enough as it was without his father gawping at it too.

“Not like I haven’t seen it,” Francis replied softly but with good humour. He’d changed enough of Ambrose’s nappies and brought him up! “But of course son. I’ll be right outside.”  Without further pause, Ambrose’s father stepped out of sight behind the curtains drawn around the hospital bed.

Ambrose willed his backside to look normal.

“Mr Pepper. Ambrose.” Ambrose recognised that voice, but it took a moment to place it as he contorted to look over his shoulder.
“Ambrose, nice to meet you. I am Healer Misslethorpe….”
“Oh Merlin,” Ambrose muttered to himself, wanting the ground to open up and swallow him. Last time he’d run into Sandy Misslethorpe he’d been looking forward to taking up his apprenticeship and in the bank with his dad. It was bad enough ending up at a healer’s without them knowing your family. Ambrose hadn’t even considered the Healer in Training also peering down at him.

“How are you feeling?”
“Erm… alright?” Ambrose offered one of the standard British responses to such a question, adequately hiding the truth that he wasn’t anything like ‘alright’. 
“Very good. You splinched… your backside…”

Splinched his arse off?!?!?

“… did their best to locate them…” Healer Misslethorpe continued but Ambrose had tuned out for a moment in horrific, toe curling… arse clenching embarrassment. How was he ever going to live this down? That sort of thing was going to be all round the office. Transport loved to tell tales and this was going to secure him as the butt of all jokes.

“… grow back with the right potion. Näktergal here took care of that…”

Ambrose squirmed, looked over his other shoulder at the Healer in Training, hoping that he was better at potions than Ambrose was at apparating.
“How long will it take to regrow?” He asked with urgency, and then in a quieter voice he added, “… and will they be the same?”

“Thanks mate!” Ambrose was genuine in his appreciation. “Yeah, slippery - took me a while to get them out of the sewer.” Ambrose agreed, checking on the net. It wasn’t an ideal location to keep them for a length of time, but needs must. They would be safe at the Ministry once he got them there and booked in.

Happy they were definitely still secure, despite the rocking bus, Ambrose added sheepishly: “another reason why I owe you one for the shower, err, see.” It wasn’t the most fragrant place to lurk around for the weekend.

He perched on the edge of the bed as it swayed and looped his arm around one of the poles. He knocked back some more of the hot chocolate and thumbed upwards. “Bumped into someone I went to school with on the way up.” His tongue chased a smudge of hot chocolate at the corner of his mouth. “Lucy Temple. I bet you bump into people from school all the time working on here.”

Ambrose blinked in confusion at his father, but obeyed out of any better idea at that moment. Instead, he tried to remember what day it was and why on earth he had ended up in hospital. Naturally, his father wasn’t truly filling in the gaps, life preferred to play out even the shortest of mysteries.

“Retake it?” Ambrose echoed, still lost, until his brain caught up. Colour drained from his already pale face, and then flushed bright red as ever. “My test!”

He buried his face into the pillow again, this time nose first. Oh Merlin no. Today was his apparition test. He’d been bricking it quietly and barely eaten any breakfast, not wanting to vomit it up.

Why does nothing go right for me first time? He groaned inwardly, face pressed hard into the astringent smelling pillow.

Ambrose’s eyelids fluttered open. His face was pressed into his pillow, his left cheek flat against the linen. His eyelashes dragged as he tried to blink, his nose suddenly acutely aware this pillow wasn’t the one he slept on at home, but instead smelled of sage and was that eucalyptus?

There was the sound of glass chinking against other glass, but not the sound of drinkers toasting in a pub, more the rattle of a charmed pot wash in its kitchen. With them came voices, conversations, their rhythms very much like the ones at work.

Ambrose pressed his hands against the mattress and lifted his head and shoulders up, shaking out the crick in his neck from lying on his front. It was then he felt the strange tingling sensation over the throb of his arse cheeks.

“Wha…?” Ambrose drew his left knee up, twisting to look back down the bed.

“Cool!” Ambrose replied as brightly as one could in the wee hours of the morning after a long night of stalking bluecaps. “See ya.”

He disappeared into the phone-booth sized compartment at the top of the spiral stairs, deeply inhaling the bubbly, soapy smell as he stepped inside.

Some time later, the beast apprentice stepped back out into the lurching bus body, jacket over his arm. Pink bubbles and steam billowed out over his head and there was a gurgling of water and pipes. Ambrose smelled of cherries, or certainly fruity. The scent clung to his clothes too. He’d been busy showering when the garments had jumped into midair by unseen hands to be brushed, steamed as best as possible in the slender space. He’d have to find some more coins to tip Sam with, that experience alone had been more than worth the ticket!

Ambrose leaned back in to replace one of the towels from round his neck into an expectant enchanted washing basket. The wicker lid was open like a mouth, hopping across the tiles towards Ambrose’s outstretched arm to receive it.

With a lurch, the bus sent Ambrose stumbling backwards. Somewhere on the deck below Sam’s voice was calling another passenger to their stop. The door slammed shut to the tiny bathroom. Ambrose caught hold of one of the poles and looked round to see if he had disturbed Lucinda, but she was gone, or had climbed under the blankets of her bed, it was now too dark up there to tell for sure. He hoped she’d gone to sleep, everything tended to be better after a good sleep.

He shouldered his jacket again and headed down the spiral stairs, catching sight of a hunched-over witch alighting from the bus with two cats at her heels and a wheeled shopping trolley.

Ambrose waited on the stairs, a few steps up, to keep out of the way so Sam could do their job and see the other passenger off. He peered through the windows into the dark. It looked like they were in a dark valley somewhere. It reminded Ambrose of the valleys around one of the Welsh dragon reserves he’d visited. There was one street light further up the street, visible through the windscreen. The image looked smeared across the glass through heavy drizzle.

“Thanks mate,” Ambrose addressed Sam once conductor was back on the triple-decker. “I owe you one - really. That was unreal!” He descended the last steps. “Should charge a ticket for that.”