Absit Omen RPG

“Oh Sam’s getting ours,” Zeta quickly agreed. “I’ll have a martini. Osha? You want one?”
“Oh um… just a chocolate stout if they have it.” Heather had twisted to see if she could see the names on the taps at the bar. It was crowded though, and she resorted to lifting one of the cardboard beer mats to suggest a pint of dragon scale when someone who worked there happened to be passing by. She looked vaguely familiar - but that was usual for the fact they’d all gone to the same school.

“Chocolate stout, aye, but y’sure you’re wanting a ‘tini?” The witch asked Zeta, putting them on the spot. “I’m sure mudslides are going to be quite better, but need ta see some identification too. Safety protocol an’ all. How about the rest of you lot?” Heather’s heart sank, though she was strangely quiet as she tried to work out a way to get round this.

“Just a bottle of butterbeer for me please, thanks.” Ambrose ordered, conceding.
“Water with lemon.” Zeta followed suit.

“A round of butterbeers for everyone,” Sam suddenly interrupted, warming herself in Heather’s scrutiny, “with the water and lemon for her… and five gigglewaters, for me.” Gigglewaters?

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Osha went along.
“Fine.” Heather said loudly, as was her norm, and folded her arms, making sure her nails were visible. “I’m sure Merry will be able to figure out a way since she’s Head Girl an’ all… and they’ll probably serve us in Calaveras, since we’re not werewolves.” She shrugged.

“They’re terrific! How’d she get them so tiny?”
“Oh, they’re wicked aren’t they?”

Zeta and Osha delivered the right amount of attention and agreement to swell Heather’s needy, attention-seeking heart at that moment.

Heather was jealous that Ambrose had been to Death & Co. She’d heard about it from the year above who had gone there last year. It didn’t seem long before the others arrived, both those Heather knew and those she didn’t.

“Hey guys!”
“Merry!” Heather greeted her bestie excitedly. She threw her arms around Meredith and received Meredith’s somewhat European (or maybe pureblood-esque) kiss on both cheeks. “Hey Blake.” Heather waved, voice far too loud as usual.

“Hey you’re older,” Heather pointed out the obvious to Sam, “get us some proper drinks, like?”

Rovers was pretty packed, or so Heather felt, she couldn’t say she frequented the place, given her age. The Irish-themed pub in Diagon was one to host bands on the regular, and that Saturday was hosting Send No Crows, who were gigging up and down the country that summer. For that reason, it was actually the second time Heather and several of her friends had seen the band in London, and why she was also wearing one of their t-shirts to see them tonight.

“Think we can get into Death & Co. after this?” Heather asked the others, clustered together around a couple of standing tables to the left of the stage. A guy with a hurdy-gurdy had finished performing some folk songs which seemed strangely familiar to Heather without putting her finger on why, and the band were now setting up. The pub was loud with conversation and laughter, the door opening and closing to the Alley, and a haze of magical smoke hung over their heads in a blue cloud.

“Do you like my nails?” She asked, rather proud of them. They were painted white with tiny black crows painted on. “Ivy did them, she’s wicked at them now. We followed this how-to in Witch Weekly.”

“Sooo, it pretty much said that my hearts desire is for my family to basically not exist. Can we get out of here now and do something fun?”

“What the-?” Heather was caught by surprise. Was Kelvin trying not to cry? What the heck had just happened?

“It should probably be illegal to let teenagers have a look at it. What my heart desires changes every five to seven minutes. Public health issue, and everything. We're going to break it.“ Zeta proclaimed, trying to divert attention.

“Yes. Exactly.“ Agreed Meredith, who had looked equally shocked a moment before. “Come on. Let's get out of here.“ She took Blake’s arm, but Heather didn’t make any joke about it.

“Yeah, getting out of here sounds good.” Kelvin agreed.

“Going to be some essay…” Heather shook her head. “Always knew history was whack. Let’s get hot chocolate at Diagon, c’mon, there’s got to be a floo fireplace we can use.”

End

“Not sure you said it loud enough Heath!” Meredith was laughing, and Heather stuck her tongue out in friendly retaliation. She skipped out of the way for Zeta.

“I look happy! And I have a nice jumper…”

“You need to go shopping!” Heather called from her spot, cupping her hands around her mouth. She didn’t care she was making noise and the Headmaster might give her one of his looks. “Cool, huh?” She asked Zeta when she got close. “Wish it was guaranteed future, would like to have everything worked out.”

She glanced away, keen to see what happened as Kelvin approached. Unlike the two witches before him, Kelvin seemed subdued about what he saw in the mirror. He didn’t meet their eyes as he walked towards them.
“Kel?” Heather asked, loudly as ever, “cheer up, it might never happen!” Unwittingly not realising that was probably the last thing Kelvin needed to hear, Heather persisted, “what? Why, what was it? Kelvin?”

And then Blake was there, and looking equally spooked. Heather was baffled. Distracted from watching Meredith taking her turn by the Ravenclaws all shaken and stirred.

“Wait. What did you see?” Meredith was back, also all concern.
“I was holding a big trophy and like, but these two look like they’ve seen ghosts…” Her forehead was creased with confusion.

Special Title Request

Character Name: Heather Abbott
Title Applying For: Duelling Club Captain
Character Biography: Biography

What Experience has Prepared You For This Honor?:
Heather has always had a quick wand and a quick mouth. It got her into trouble in the first few years of school. In her fifth year (2010-2011), it was no surprise that Heather wasn’t asked to be a prefect. She also didn’t meet what was needed for a quidditch captain.

She channelled her energy into her practical subjects and the duelling club. She began to work on keeping her temper, taking a long walk out of the castle to blow holes in the ground instead more than once when test results didn’t go her way, or she had a falling out with friends.

But to her surprise, and perhaps as a method of ‘giving former trouble responsibility’ she was asked to step up as a prefect in her sixth year (2011-2012) when the previous prefect relinquished the responsibility. Heather was secretly delighted, because her good friends were already prefects and this was definitely a kind of reward. However, she had her sights still set on leading the duelling club, or at the very least, winning a tournament and entering Hogwarts infamy.

Last academic year the seventh year (NPC) in charge of the club was poorly with measles and then the black cat flu, so Heather and her best friend Meredith stepped up to organise things. Heather offered to organise friendly matches, tutored the younger years during meetings. They ran and refereed a duelling tournament after Remembering Day 2012. In return she had a little personal tuition from their Professor.

During the summer term of 2012 Heather focused on garnering support from other members of the club. She offered more training and practice to other students. Sometimes it backfired, there was the occasional magical accident or injury, but dueling required the odd bruise!

Heather is ambitious and successfully persuaded her parents into letting her enter and compete in the All-England Wizarding Duelling Competition in the summer holidays. She held her own despite her age and inexperience and picked up lots of tips.

What Do You Think the Most Important Aspect of This Job Is:?
Keeping order! Lots of wands and the wish to hex each other can get out of hand quick. Heather has to balance everyone's love of competition with learning new skills. She'll have a hex for people who come along just to muck about or bully someone. Otherwise it will be organising everything. That will be a challenge. But, she's up for it.

Tell a Story From Your Past That Has Proven Your Mettle:  
People Only Die in Proper Duels

“Maybe that’s his greatest fear then? … Can’t really see him as a family man…” Rylan pondered aloud. Heather shook her head and agreed. Mairead rejoined them, reconsidering her kitchen trip.

“Wonder when they start Hogwarts, could ye imagine?”
“… I wouldn’t want to be at the same school my dad teaches at, but there’s not a lot of choice is there…”

“Not without going abroad. Malfoys are old money, I’m sure they’d afford it.” Heather shrugged. “Don’t you remember the Tetrawizard Tournament?” It had happened in her fourth year at Hogwarts, and their second year. They’d all been too young to compete in the revamped tournament which featured four schools rather than three - Salem, Durmstrang, Beauxbatons and Hogwarts. Salem had ultimately romped away with the trophy.

“Everyone at Beauxbatons seems so optimistic… Didn’t Professor Onuris go there or something, and Professor Duerr?” Heather posed it to creature-loving Rylan, who adored Onuris. “Durmstrangs were all hard-arse and Salem crew were just strange.” She remembered them all being louder than she was, and Heather was known to have a voice which refused to be quiet.

“Maybe he’ll leave and go teach at one of those instead,” Heather shrugged, “it’s not like all the Hogwarts staff are cursed never to stay long, is it?” She grinned. “Not working on Storm though,” she winked at Mairead, who she knew had a love-hate relationship with the grumpy old fart.

“I think the dark mark was a little much…” Rylan reasoned, showing a little sympathy for their poor beleaguered potions master. Heather shrugged, gesturing with upturned palms, weighing it up. “… boggarts? I don’t actually know, but would be interesting to find out! I’m more of a creatures guy …”

“Don’t we know,” Heather grinned. Rylan was most likely to be found down at the creatures pens by the forbidden forest than anywhere else when lessons were done for the day.

“It’s got to be something really dumb if the guy worked for the Dark Lord himself.”

“What, his greatest fear? I guess if he came back through some magical miracle, Malfoy would be on the hit list after Potter?” Heather had never liked history, but it was impossible for anyone who wasn’t muggleborn not to know potted history of the nineties. “But he’s got to have more current, more likely fears. Hasn’t he got kids, wouldn’t it be something to do with that if people are parents. Not trying to say I wouldn’t fear my parents dying or whatever, just that there’s stuff far more likely to fear…”

“By all means, after you, Abbott.”
“Just like the quidditch standings…” Heather winked and tossed her hair, grinning as it was all a joke. Zeta bounced up behind her.

Then suddenly a curator addressed them with instructions. Heather applied an attentive expression as she did for certain professors lessons though really she had a growing sensation of responsibility not to muck up since declaring she wanted to go first. Her Gryffindor pride would not allow her to fail!

“… Are there any questions now?”
“Yeah, what happens if she looks in it and it breaks?” Heather asked cheekily, thumbing over her shoulder. Pride turning to bravado and really terrible jokes. “Joking, joking Zeeee… it’ll break with Watkins.” She cackled. “Right, me first!”

Heather stepped across to the square on the floor, eyeing up the decorated frame of the very old mirror. The glass wasn’t clean like modern mirrors, but had a pattern like frost creeping in at the edges. If Heather had paid more attention to the displays rather than getting caught behind with her family she might have known this was due to how it was made all that time ago, and the age of the mirror.

As she squared herself she took a deeper than normal breath, seeing herself in the mirror as she was right then. But as she blinked, the scene changed. Heather was there, ever so slightly older, or maybe five years older… she inched forward, and leaned towards the glass, eyes narrowed in thought and examination at the indistinct age of her mirror-self. What was clearer was that she held herself with confidence, and carried a great big trophy with All-England Wizarding Duelling Competition[1] engraved on it. Now she looked harder she saw other medals slung round her neck.

Heather’s jaw went slack, and for a good long moment she forgot the mirror showed her heart’s greatest desire and not the future. She laughed out loud, gleefully, and as ever for Heather too loudly. She put her hands on her hips and grinned.

“I’m like duelling champion of the world or something!” She told the others loudly, “this is awesome!”

It took a bit of cajoling to get her to shift, though the grin on her face refused to budge!

1.	All-England Wizarding Duelling Competition, Heather has been trying to convince her parents to let her enter.

“I’d maybe try to get a boggart to pop up behind him.” Mairead suggested, “Let everyone see what his worst fear is. I bet it’s something silly like water, or spiders…”

“What because he’s faced the Dark Lord himself?” Heather asked, grinning. “Can’t be scared of him still, like, can he?” She was hardly going to go and ask the wizard, but she couldn’t deny Mai’s suggestion had her intrigued.

“Rylan, what do you reckon?” Heather asked, looping in the creature-loving fourth year.

“Hiya Abbott.”
“Hey Zee,” Heather replied automatically, the conversation was moving on swiftly.

“What are we on? Not Quidditch, I hope?” Zeta moaned, and Heather grinned. Of course it was quidditch. It was the default topic of conversation at Hogwarts, even for holiday excursions. At least, those that involved Blake.

“We try our best to be decent conversationalists,” The aforementioned explained, gesturing as to include Kelvin in this, “But apparently we can’t compete with the loo… to be fair my own chatter has been mostly about quidditch this year, so I’m sure that makes me quite boring or one note.” Heather glanced between Meredith and Zeta, wondering how that little girly trip had gone.

“Good lord, what’s with this line.” Zeta interjected, keen to change the subject, “I think we all need therapy, waiting on a silly mirror.” Heather glanced up ahead where a family were facing the mirror, faces full of astonishment. It was angled specifically so they couldn’t see what they saw, even if it were possible to see what another person saw… Heather wasn’t sure.

“Quidditch talk or loo, I know which one I’d pick too.” Kelvin piped up, “Though if I was going to drag someone off with me it’d be you,” he referred to his fellow Ravenclaw, “and then the quidditch talk would follow me.”

“So, besides the concert, anyone have any other plans for mischief before heading back to school?” Blake asked, allowing the conversation to move on. Heather dragged her gaze away from the reactions of strangers up ahead.

“Getting a tattoo,” Zeta shrugged, “Not sure of what.” Heather didn’t cover her surprise.
“A tattoo?” Kelvin queried, quicker to reply, ”But you don’t know of what? Shouldn’t you figure that out before you decide to get one?” It was a good point. “Maybe you’ll see it in the mirror.”
“Unless it is on her face she will need to strip off…” Meredith laughed from beside Heather. Her friend grinned at the idea, and gently teased:
“Ooer, Zeta!” while slipping her jacket off her shoulder in mime.

“You going to get a SAWS tattoo? Solidarity with werewolves?” Meredith asked their Hufflepuff classmate. Then to Heather’s surprise, her best friend reached out to Blake Knight, and squeezed his arm while enquiring on his tattoo choice…

Heather’s mouth hung agog for a moment at this, as if she had been about to add something and had been stopped entirely in her tracks by this gesture.
“Alright you two, getting handsy…” she exchanged a strange look with Kelvin. “Look sharp, we’re on the move.”

The group before them had passed beyond the roped queue and were approaching the area set out for visitors to stand before the mirror. The rope at the end of the queue drew back across as if held by an invisible hand, corralling them.
“Best get behind me, mates,” Heather joked, “I’m going first.”

“… I may not be able to spend as much time obsessing over quidditch like I’ve done this year.” Heather splayed her hand on her chest and gaped in mock horror. “Shocking, I know.” Blake confirmed, and she chuckled.

“Should we let the others know we are almost there?” Blake waved and Heather stepped forward to spot who was there. Meredith and Zeta were stood in the gallery having a chat about something.

Zeta noticed the waving, but as she did Professor Greyfriar loomed out of nowhere like the bear of a man he was, and encouraged his sheep back to the fold. Heather hoped he wouldn’t bring up her lateness…

Instead, she brightened to see Meredith, gratefully receiving the hug.
“Where have you been? Thought you skived off.” Heather’s ribs felt squeezed so she waited to answer. “Not that Blake, Kelvin and Zeta are not excellent company.” Did Mere just wink at Blake Knight? Heather had definitely missed more than quidditch chat.

“Noooo, been with dad and my sisters,” Heather explained, thumbing over her shoulder. “They’re two dozen behind us. Had to convince him I needed to be with you guys to get the essay credit.” She looked suspiciously at the others. “Why, how have you guys been excellent company… Have you pooled all the answers without me?” Heather put her hands on her hips.

“Plan on me still being annoyingly competitive until the end of the year.”
“Never change!”

Heather swung her loose arm and gave Blake a playful smack on the arm. As she did, Kelvin exclaimed:
“End of the year? You do remember we still have one more year. Are you quitting the team?”
“Go out on a high.” Heather gave an exaggerated shrug, and smiled at Kelvin. “Or if the ‘Claws lose… maybe he can’t show his face around school no more.”

The queue inched forward, and Heather glanced about them for the others who were signed up on Professor Greyfriar’s list.

“They would be the end of the world,” Heather agreed. “Almost as bad as dating Bilius Clogg-Spleen!” Heather went to stick two fingers down her own throat at the thought of it. No, Meredith would be a much better choice than the others in her dormitory, and they didn’t see them stepping up to organise things for Professor Storm. They shared a moment of hilarity in the corridor, at the thought either of them would be interested in dating the poor boy.

“Catch you up later like, for Transfiguration prep, yeah?” Heather asked, referring back to Professor Singh’s work which had been set earlier that day. “And if we’ve time, like, we’ll make a start on the plans.” She gave Meredith a double thumbs up, before they headed in opposite directions, to their respective common rooms and studies.

End