Absit Omen RPG

25 Stuart Road
Acton
London

Arcturus Hollingbury
277b Diagon Alley
London

Dear Arc,

How are you doing? I would have dropped by to see you, but given your fondness for routine and work I most likely would have accidentally intruded. A letter, we decided, would do better.

We haven’t seen you since Christmas. Your mother is wondering about you. She insists that you are not in a right state of mind lately, though she admits it is an instinct rather than anything factual. Despite that I’m inclined to believe her; she has had many ‘feelings’ that often turn out to be right later on down the road, and I would be exposing myself to your mother’s wrath if I were to dismiss her gut feelings.

I hope you are keeping well. You don’t have to reply to this letter if you’re busy or tired; the last thing we want you to do is worry about us. Granted, your pedantry will have you point out that we are worried for you, but of course. That’s what parents do. But as we’ve learned, you only come to us when you’ve found no options left, and since you haven’t done so we can only assume that you do know what options you have at hand.

Your mother wants to let you know that she might take a two-week trip to Greece to see her parents. She’s inviting you, though it’s not mandatory. “Just tell him that it might be his last chance to see his eel,” was what she told me. I’m not going to ask.

As for me, I am aware that you might still be conflicted over the information that I can’t share. At this time, dispensing that information is still unavailable to me, but I know you well enough to have found out on your own. Please do not entertain her if you can.

I suppose it would be strange of me to remind you about how power corrupts at this time. Forgive me - it is always on my mind: the dangers of power and using it without thought of consequence. It is a heavy responsibility, and perhaps now is the best time to be mindful of it. Power is always within our grasp, Arc. Be careful with what you do with it.

With love,
Dad

PS: Your mother thought this ball might be able to weather Rustle's impassioned need to shred soft objects to pieces. Let us know the result of the fight. We're taking bets.
PPS: Please give Metis some water when she drops by and avoid accepting any dead voles she may have picked up along the way.

Enclosed is a grapefruit-sized cat toy that, according to its tag, changes shape to 'keep a feline's interest fresh'.

Mordecai listened to his wife quietly, ever content enough to let her talk. For their whole married life they might have had their disagreements, but they were always willing to hear each other out. It was not something that his father had taught him but something he had grown on his own as respect for her.

“Alright,” he said finally. “I can’t make any promises, but I can try. If he proves to be just as reticent still I’m going to appeal to you to attempt as well, because… as much as he’s our son, we don’t really know him that well anymore, do we?” Not for over a decade.

He paused. “Wait. Why didn’t you have this conversation with him before? He’s more likely to talk to you than me.”

“That’s a very ‘puff thing to say,” said Mordecai, eyeing her. Lydia had been in Hufflepuff in Hogwarts, and boy did she depict the house image well enough into her age. “Yes, I know about him not wanting to get angry, but his wants line up very differently to what the world intends for him. That said, I feel as his parents we should know exactly what makes him angry.”

He turned his eyes up at the ceiling. “I don’t intend to control him - or anything that is out of my hands. I just feel that I could have done more for him - more for everyone. You, Allie, the Office. Do I wonder out loud why I dare not go further? Or point out the hypocrisy and irony of my making such a query when the answers may lie just in front of me?”

Mordecai glanced at her without turning his head. “I don’t doubt that. But he avoids the two of us now that he’s all grown up… thinks that it’s all a burden to us if he comes back here asking for help. I wouldn’t force him to spill his secrets to us, and you wouldn’t either.”

He looked up at the wall of greenery opposite the two of them, still looking thoughtful. “What makes a good father, really? For all that I’ve done, I still don’t feel that I’ve done the best I could. He’s distant lately - I wonder…”

They had met in October, where Arcturus was disturbingly quiet and expressionless in his search for answers. Ever since he’d stepped out of the office, Mordecai had wondered if his son was angry with him for not telling him the truth. He had not managed to ask - Arcturus had disappeared to hurry about in the hospital once again shortly after, and this Christmas he had gone to inform Linus that the family was no longer seeing him.

He had also gone over to brusquely tell his father that he did not agree one bit with the jinx on him, but that wouldn’t have changed Linus’s mind. Mordecai had still not spoken about it to Lydia. They had gotten into a shouting match, and strong words had been said.

He wondered if his own son one day would do the same to him.

“Alright, but you have to understand that it’s not because we’re intentionally being rude,” Mordecai protested as he shut the door behind him. “We see it as an obligation that we enjoy regardless. I don’t think I should turn you down when you need me.”

He stopped to drink, paused right before and hesitated. “I probably did teach him that, didn’t I…” he mumbled into his mug. “I’ve taught him a lot of things… and yet I feel like I haven’t prepared him enough.” The wizard sighed before finally resuming his drink, finishing it off before setting the mug down next to the sink, leaning against the kitchen counter and folding his arms across his chest in deep thought.

Mordecai gazed down at her, unaware of what was going on in his wife’s mind. “I would say ‘like a babe’, but in light of last night perhaps that’s not the right thing to say.” He chuckled deeply at her expression. “Are we really going to discuss this outside here?”

He took another sip of his tea, feeling the warmth radiate from inside his chest on this freezing morning. “I did suggest a greenhouse, but you put your foot down on that. May I ask why? It’s not like I’ll end up accidentally hexing your plants again. Sorry about that, again,” he added apologetically.

Mordecai smiled back at her before taking a sip of tea from his mug. It wasn’t a particularly fine tea made today, but there was a time for proper tea and then there was a time for good old plain tea with milk. The latter was this time. “There’s only so much sleep I need, Lydia. Can’t do with lying in bed all morning.”

He took another sip again, the pause settling in with the gentle sounds of soil below, and then watched his wife lift the shrub, soil included, into a bag. “Are you potting those plants? I thought you said you weren’t going to do it for this winter.”

There was nothing in sight
There was nowhere to hide
And the ground caved in
And your voice was all I heard

---

The House at the End of the Row, Corlett Court, York

The weather up in York was a gap from London - warm to cool and rainy, something Mordecai didn’t like very much. But the weather was predictably unpredictable and there was not much he could do other than shiver the moment he stepped out of the fireplace. He hadn’t brought his coat - all he had intended to do was Floo in and out. Easy enough.

“Father?” he called out into the house. There was no answer; he surmised that either his father was upstairs or out in the backyard. He gently set the bag down in the dining room and heard the door click. Mordecai frowned and headed into the hallway, hand on wand just in case. The figure at the door was recognisable enough that he loosened his grip on his wand.

“You went out?” he asked his father as Linus stepped into the light falling through the door from the fireplace and the dim lights in the dining room. “Fairly damp today for a walk.”

“Mind your own business, son.” At least he was calling him son. Linus hadn’t called Mordecai by his name since his wife's death. “Why are you here? I thought you were too busy with your job in the Ministry to visit your old man.”

“Picked up your tobacco,” said Mordecai. Linus smoked enough to possibly drive St Nicholas out of the chimney on Christmas. He knew Arcturus had also picked up the habit, but the healer at least made the effort to smoke outside, even going as far as to measure the distance from the house before doing so. Linus didn’t. “Your supplier’s cutting down on delivery costs so customers don’t have to pay the excess.”

“Bah. Everything’s so expensive these days, and where’s the money going? Someone’s pockets, I’m sure.” Not a word of thanks, but Mordecai had learned not to expect one.

He followed his father into the dining room and watched as Linus inspected the parcel. You missed the security questions, but who would bother impersonating Linus? Anyone looking for your head would seek out someone you cared for more, like Arcturus.

“I’ll be going now, father,” he said quietly, heading for the fireplace before his personal voice decided to add further thoughts. “The family’s coming over for Christmas, but Lydia’s parents won’t be coming. The Floo from last time didn’t sit well.”

“Have you been in contact with your sister?”

The question came out of thin air, so much so that Mordecai was speechless for a moment. He turned around. “Sister?” he asked, bewildered. “You told me never to call her that in this house--”

“I’m your father, I change the rules anytime and you’re in my house.” Mordecai bit his lip in order not to say anything to this. “Have you been in contact with her?”

“No.”

Linus stared at Mordecai. “You better not be lying to your old man.”

“You can be assured that never even crossed my mind,” replied the younger man flatly. “I haven’t been in contact. I don’t know where she is. The Ministry has not prioritised her on their criminal watchlist.”

“Why not?” Linus leaned against the table. “Someone like her shouldn’t be roaming around free.”

Mordecai threw his hands into the air. “I’m not in charge of that. She hasn’t committed any crime that counts under the Improper Use of Magic Office, father. You’re better off asking the Head of Law Enforcement about her criminal status than I am - I don’t have the power to pardon without a trial and even that requires the Wizengamot.” He’d been utterly confused by this conversation the whole time, and his tone showed it.

Linus made a disgusted gruff sound, shaking his head. “The Ministry’s getting soft, I tell you. Softer and softer these days. What are we trusting our government for when they can’t even look after us and take out the rubbish like they used to?”

His son remained silent. This was apparently the wrong choice, because the disgusted look that Linus gave him made Mordecai opened his mouth to speak. But Linus overrode him without breaking pace. “All crimes should be treated equally, big or small. That you all overlook the small ones for bigger problems does not make the small problems go away. Shouldn’t you be serving up crimes daily to the department? Who’s the one in charge now? A Carstairs, not even surprising.”

Solomon Carstairs was actually reasonable compared to previous Magical Law Enforcement Heads. But when Linus was going on one of his tirades, Mordecai remained silent.

“You should confess to it,” Linus said, glowering at his son.

“Pardon?” There was an uncharacteristic hint of ludicrousness in Mordecai’s tone. “Confess to... what? I’ve told you that I’ve not had contact with her.”

In one swift movement the former Obliviator pointed his wand at Mordecai. The abrupt silence had Mordecai look down slowly to confirm that, yes, he had also reflexively pulled out his wand. His hand trembled in the uncertainty, the dawning realisation of how this looked to his father.

“You dare draw your wand on me, boy?” Linus growled. “I bring you up in this house, and you dare turn your words and wand on me? Where’s your gratitude, boy?”

The house held its breath. Mordecai lowered his wand slowly. At that moment, he felt shame and guilt… and anger. He would feel betrayed if Arcturus had done the same… but not for the same reasons.

When Linus next spoke, he regretted the choice to lower his wand. “You know what I’m thinking of? A Prohibition Jinx. A pact of silence. You will never speak of her as long as I’m alive.”

“What? I-- no.” Mordecai’s jaw set. “That’s… you think that silencing me will ensure no one ever knows about her? I will not have you silence--”

“Shut it.” The tip of the wand came dangerously close to his face. Mordecai stopped, mostly out of fear than obedience. There was silence again, Linus’s eyes not on him but his wand hand… that Mordecai did not lift this time.

The next thing he remembered was being bodily slammed against the wall hard enough that when he recovered, something warm and wet was running down his lips. He pressed the ball of his hand to his face and came away with glistening dark red as his world steadied itself around him.

“...sister… Morgana...Morgana Hollingbury…” Mordecai tried to pull himself together, but the sight of the blood and the impact from the wall had made him light-headed. It took him all of his sheer willpower to not lose consciousness, not while the shock was still reverberating through his bones.

He pulled himself up, staggering off the floor, in time to hear Linus stop speaking - only for him to wave his wand. “Prohibeo.”

“N-no!” Mordecai wiped his nose again, taking deep breaths despite the blood. “Wait--”

“Ego absit!” It was as if a scarf had tightened around his throat. Mordecai gasped, reaching for his neck, but then the sensation of lack of air was gone. The leaden feeling of knowing that he was now bound without his consent to a pact of silence remained.

Linus put his wand away with an air of satisfaction. “If you dare utter so much as one sound about her,” he said, “I’ll know.”

His insides churned with sheer disgust. The bitter twist of repulsion, bile rising in his throat in cold fury. Mordecai turned on his heel and strode out the door without looking back, slamming it behind him. It was only at the gate that he stopped to wipe his dripping nose before he remembered - Lydia would ask. Shit.

He took out his wand and waved it at his nose vaguely, wincing as whatever broke mended itself and the blood vanished into thin air. The stains on his sleeve dissipated as he siphoned the sticky mess on his hand.

In the rain, Mordecai put his wand away, shivered in the cold, in contempt and guilt, and apparated.

Mordecai listened to his deputy, frowning in thought. Filtering through cases lately had become simultaneously easier and harder - easier, because of the help Sameera and Dieter were contributing, but harder because of their workload doubling. Still, they had managed to establish a proper workflow by now - it just depended on the other parts of the MLE to function in tandem, which he considered the most difficult issue of all.

He looked back down at the list on his desk that he’d made the previous night of cases his deputy had stuck notes on for him to look at. Work like this was making him return home late. Lydia understood this, but there was only so much time he had left these days to spend with her, rather than just coming home, having a wash and rolling into bed to fall asleep within five. Long days, short nights.

“--can I help you?” Sameera’s voice cut through his thoughts. He looked up, curious - the IUM did not get visitors most of the time.

She was listening intently to the person unseen outside the office, before turning to him. “I, uhh… sir, someone is here to see you.” The level of uncertainty had him lowering his brow. Sameera wasn’t usually hesitant.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“Uhh…” She glanced back through the door. “Your son, sir.”

Arc? His son had made it extremely clear to him once that the Ministry was a place he absolutely despised, in a tone that suggested the only way he could ever be found at the Ministry would either be against his will, or possibly dead.

“Let him in.” Mordecai got to his feet, still not believing in the news - but Sameera had never lied to him. Toyed with words and phrasing, yes, but never lied.

The healer stepped in, somehow looking gaunt and yet the air of someone with purpose. Sameera took one look between them hastily. “I’ll go and look into the records, and maybe go find Morgenstern,” she said. “He hasn’t been back for two hours. I better go check that he hasn’t lost himself in the IMC.”

The door shut behind her, and then they were alone. Anyone trying to eavesdrop into the office with the IUM door shut would find their ears burning hotter the longer they attempted.

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Arc, wh--”
“Dad--”

They stopped. Then Arcturus blinked. “I have questions for you,” he said.

“Does it have to be now? In the middle of the workday?” He was more confused as to why his son was here in the Ministry rather than interrupting his work. Arcturus had always considered stepping into his parents’ lives to ask as a major bother rather than a familial need. If he was here, he had a damn good reason why.

“Yes it does.” He saw his son hesitate. “Better not in front of mum.”

Mordecai grew increasingly concerned. “Arc, what is i--”

“Who’s Madame le Fay, and why does she claim to know you and me?”

It took a moment for the name to register, but when it did he was struck with foreboding and shock. How in the world had she-- No, that was a silly question to ask. There weren’t that many Hollingburys around London, it would’ve been but the work of a moment to ask around. Arc’s dementing would have already made his name known slightly, and knowing her she would have her ways of prying information out of people without trouble.

“What do you think?” he said carefully. He had rules to obey... and unbeknownst to Arc, Linus had bound Mordecai[1] with a Prohibition Jinx about the whole matter. There were always loopholes to the law, though. “Who do you think...?”

“What I know: she knows you. She knows me. She’s too old to be a sister. Too young to be a grandparent or some cousin of said grandparent. Considers herself family blood, so not godparent. Based on that, I deduce she’s… an aunt.” Mordecai was impressed, and he knew Arc had seen the expression on his face. The healer however remained impassive. “Is that true? She’s your sister?”

And there was the loophole. He couldn’t give the answers - someone had to say them out loud. Arc would have figured it out on his own. “You would do well in the MLE if you were here,” he answered. Neither yes or no, but the implied tone that Arc was correct.

“Pass,” the healer said curtly. “Madame le Fay… name’s familiar, but doesn’t quite ring the bell.”

“Remember those stories I used to tell you two about King Arthur?” His son made it so incredibly easy to get around the pact, though in fairness Linus would not have banked on her to make contact with him.

There was a pause. “...Morgan le Fay. Morgana.” He nodded his head slightly in response, still keeping to his word of silence. “Morgana Hollingbury. That’s her name?”

“Was. Now just the first.”

“Why?” Arc’s heavy, deliberate tone was making him worry for his son. He’d never seen the healer this determined in a long time. “Why did you not tell us anything about her?”

Mordecai leaned against an empty desk, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I’m not allowed to. Your grandfather’s word, I swore to it. I can’t even directly refer - he’ll find out, and the last thing I want is the wrath of the previous generation down my neck when I have to look out for the next one.” He waved in the general direction of the office around him. “Why the contact?”

“Looking out for me. That’s her answer, not mine.” Arcturus’s eyes narrowed. “When will you tell mum?”

Mordecai shook his head. As much as he wanted to, he was explicitly forbidden. He could hear the regret in his voice. “Not possible, not while he’s still alive.”

“Why is she not part of the family?”

“Caught trying out Dark magic. I wasn’t allowed to defend. Got kicked out into the streets, name burned off the family roster. Turned to crime to survive, made it a career. Came back, trying to turn over a new leaf. Criminal status still ongoing.” It sounded so cold to describe her entire life that way, but he literally could not make it any more about her than he wanted to. “That’s the long and short of it.”

“Where was she during the Wizarding Wars?” There was a certain intense urgency for this, he sensed.

“Europe. Mostly France. Still associates with a few figures that the various Ministries have their radars, but no real need to pursue. Have heard rumours that the Ministries take advantage of the services provided, in exchange for silence… but not in exchange for a pardon.”

Arc finally dropped his gaze from his father, which as a relief - the brown-eyed stare had never been colder in his life. “Then she doesn’t know the struggle,” he said, in a disgusted tone.

Mordecai took his hands out of his pockets and folded his arms across his chest. “What are you going to do with the information? This isn’t exactly classified and can be accessed by request, but it’s still not something you should just walk out of here with lightly.” Only because you don’t, but that’s not for you to decide, isn’t it?

“Knowledge is power. Isn’t that what you told us?” The healer turned on his heel. “Could anyone make a request at the law records room of a criminal of this level? I have some homework to do.”

“Just tell them the Head of Improper Use gave you permission.” It was better this way. With the pact still ongoing until Linus died or broke it, there was no feasible way Mordecai could ever spill the beans. Despite knowing that he had done his best to discuss it without breaking it, there was still a feeling of regret.

As his son made to leave, Mordecai got off the desk. “Arc. Listen. I would have told you, but… I am bound by family law. You know I can’t break the rules so easily. I tried to convince him to change the status quo, but... “ He shook his head. “You know what your grandfather’s like.”

Arc stopped in his tracks to listen, and when Mordecai was done, he turned his head slightly. “Yeah, I know,” he said, still in the same heavy, unimpressed tone. “Family, huh? I’ll see.”

“Arc.” The healer paused. “When you have a family, you’ll understand. You’d do anything to keep them safe.”

When the healer spoke next, Mordecai had no answer for him. There was none to be made. No one could rebuke the shared voice in the darkness.

“And sometimes, good intentions pave the way to hell.”

1.	New Divide, Oct 2nd

Shufflebottom was leading them around bushes. He had a brief but fleeting wish to be an Occlumens just to get this over with. Just as illegal as veritaserum, just a temptation. Patience. Being on the offensive was getting them nowhere, and detouring didn't work either.

He settled for neutral, curious. "Mr Shufflebottom, you are aware that Musgrave is a wanted criminal by the Ministry? In that case, why did you choose to help him? Knowingly aiding and abetting a known criminal is in itself a criminal offence. Did he force your hand, offer a bribe - or was it out of goodwill to help a fellow man in need? Tell us what you do know and maybe you may have a case for your plea."

Mordecai sat back in his seat, shifting to make himself comfortable. If they were going to be here for long, he might as well. "You have the floor, Mr Shufflebottom," he said calmly.

His fellow Wizengamot members slowly picking apart the pieces already. Mordecai felt almost sorry for the man. Almost.

"Musgrave knew what he was doing when he landed himself in Azkaban and had his wand snapped, Mr Shufflebottom," he said, watching the nervous wizard sweating in the chair. "While we have yet to reach the verdict of wand snapping, you perhaps would know better than to go that far. Or would we be assuming wrong?" It sounded slightly like a threat, perhaps to the defendant, but as the person who had the authority to make such a decision[1] he had every right to bring it up. "Being penniless or lacking in job employment does not give reason or excuse to cause harm to others, as Musgrave has done. I have confidence in assuming that you are aware of that."

He let that hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "You have not answered the question regarding eyewitnesses to account for your locations on the nights stated. Mr Shufflebottom, lying will not help you in any shape or form at this stage. Let me remind you that you are in charge of your fate here."

1.	Improper Use of Magic Office holds the authority to send legal representatives to destroy the accused's wand.

Having read the files Sameera had slid onto his table with a low mutter of "You should read this", Mordecai was wondering exactly how this man had gotten himself into so much trouble in the past. He wasn't going to judge - well, judging was his job - but having had an experience with a certain individual, life was a cruel mistress in its own way. He should know.

But to have been in league with Lawrence Musgrave, now. The evidence so far was stacking the stakes against Shufflebottom at the moment and the not guilty plea was, metaphorically speaking, looking weaker by the second. However, Mordecai was not letting that slide so fast, even though he was keenly suspecting that regardless of whatever argument the defence was going to make, this trial was going to head down a path he could predict right about now.

"According to the evidence," he spoke loud and clear, "we do indeed have a lack of alibi from the accused's wife on the nights specified. Do we have statements from other sources that would confirm that he was out somewhere rather than, say, in an inebriated state in a place of merriment?"

The recorded confrontation between the accused and the two aurors was very telling regarding the man's association with Musgrave...no point bringing it up.

While he hadn't said anything so far, Mordecai had been one of the first few people to attend. A kidnapping, a werewolf, a Hogwarts student, no less - but his office generally wasn't called in to deal with such matters. Or rather, on the vague basis that every crime was a misuse of magic, which wasn't a far stretch. Besides, he had a role to play within the MLE.

Carstairs would not voice any concerns about the IUM being there, at any rate, but just in case Mordecai was not one of those who reached out for the tea and biscuits. He sat there watching the proceedings, barely moving apart from his eyes and breathing. His gaze had followed the aurors from one to the other in silence, while considering.

It would be good if he could obtain information. Initially he had his doubts about having all information centralised, but that had been a kneejerk reaction that cooled down fast. No, Radley was right. "I agree with Auror Radley," he spoke up. "We need solid records for investigations and possible trials down the line, and of late many of the records seem fragmented and a puzzle to decipher. No one's fault, just that the information from previous cases," he was letting them know he'd read the files despite not having any stake in the case, "have become spread out so thin that administration can't sort out later without taking time we don't have."

Mordecai casually shifted into a more comfortable position in his seat. Now he'd established that more than just the Aurors were involved, it was time for some actual contribution. "If you're going into Muggle areas, I'll most likely lift some restrictions on the Statute for you all, in case someone gets belligerent along the way. I'm sure you all know your restraint, but there's only so much we can do if the media is ready to pounce on us again." He glanced around the table and then to Carstairs. "Sincere request from me. Don't draw unwanted attention. That's all I want for this place to function without vultures circling overhead."

Neon, how would you like Adon to hear about IUM's interest? A thread would be good, but we could just as easily establish a general idea or sketch that I can reference in the narrative of a post somewhere, too, if you've got a lot going on in other threads.

I would love to have IUM involved in more threads, and honestly they should be in more things! If anything, Sameera may be more likely to talk to Adon provided somewhere down the line she finds out he's on the case. She's the one who organises the inter-dept communications, so she's the best candidate for that.

If Aurors are not okay with that, then I'm also up for them poking the IUM somewhat irritably and attempting to find out why IUM is involved, though I can't guarantee the Office will spill the beans that easily.

Also quick note: The IUM cannot act on all of the interviewing and stuff, their work is internal and if you actually ask them they will talk about having to issue warrants and summons. Unless some authority like the Head Auror or Head of MLE explicitly gives them the go, they will be very silently taking information off people, but their hands are not, technically speaking, dipping into the matter, and they will deny being involved in the investigations since their actual goal is trying to find out who's the snitch in the Ministry. Lawrence figures very largely in their investigations only for that reason.

However, "improper use of magic" (in its most literal form - actual abuse of magic is also on their agenda) and "law advice" also come with their job, so if you guys ever have the need for them, you know where to find them.

The Defender personality type is quite unique, as many of their qualities defy the definition of their individual traits. Though sensitive, Defenders have excellent analytical abilities; though reserved, they have well-developed people skills and robust social relationships; and though they are generally a conservative type, Defenders are often receptive to change and new ideas. As with so many things, people with the Defender personality type are more than the sum of their parts, and it is the way they use these strengths that defines who they are.

There’s hardly a better type to make up such a large proportion of the population, nearly 13%. Combining the best of tradition and the desire to do good, Defenders are found in lines of work with a sense of history behind them, such as medicine, academics and charitable social work.

Defender personalities (especially Turbulent ones) are often meticulous to the point of perfectionism, and though they procrastinate, they can always be relied on to get the job done on time. Defenders take their responsibilities personally, consistently going above and beyond, doing everything they can to exceed expectations and delight others, at work and at home.

The challenge for Defenders is ensuring that what they do is noticed. They have a tendency to underplay their accomplishments, and while their kindness is often respected, more cynical and selfish people are likely to take advantage of Defenders’ dedication and humbleness by pushing work onto them and then taking the credit. Defenders need to know when to say no and stand up for themselves if they are to maintain their confidence and enthusiasm.

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