Absit Omen RPG

“Already?” Catherine Pepper asked, with the accidental tone of an exasperated mother. Her husband blinked quickly at her and chuckled. “I mean, of course, duty calls.” Mrs Pepper was taking the status of their visitor a little too seriously in his opinion.

“We always knew it would be sporadic,” Octavius followed up smoothly, shrugging. He set his pencil down beside sketches. “But at this rate it’ll be a long time before you can hang my work on a wall.” Minister or not, Edwin was still an old friend who he could be honest with. He figured Abbott had caught up with that from their conversations earlier.

“I’ll expect an owl from one of your secretaries.” Edwin didn’t owl back these days, far too important for writing his own owls. “Don’t go working on your frown lines.”

End

“If I did, it would be true to life.” Octavius shot back in low tones, his lips mischievously curling within his white beard. With Brinley Abbott distracted by his wonderful wife, there was a short opportunity to converse with his old friend like old times. Made him remember how much he missed the grumpy old arsehole.

“I hope you do not mind me invading your lovely home.”
   “Not at all! You’re most welcome Mr Abbot.”
“How do you do? Have you been married a long time?”
   “Very well thank you for asking. We’ve been married gone twenty years now, but together longer than that. You married?”

Catherine’s eyes found Abbott’s hands, searching for a ring.

   “We met just like this,” Catherine gestured to the Minister and her husband sat with sketches.

“I was commissioned to paint her and her sister when I was cutting my teeth,” the painter picked up the thread. “I would make excuses for her to come back, and she became my sitter. Still just as beautiful.” His wife couldn’t help but smile and the married couple held each other’s gaze for a lingering moment.

“Oh, am I interrupting?” Catherine Pepper appeared, holding the coffee pot, unaware that Brinley Abbott was also in the studio. Ordinarily, Octavius would tolerate but find interruptions from his dear wife a little irritating. At that very moment, he welcomed her.

“No, my darling, not at all,” the artist assured his wife in soft, welcoming tones. “Just doing some sketches, and Edwin was frowning.”
“Oh dear.”
“Have you met Mr Abbott? This is my wife, Catherine.” Octavius spoke it with such affection, for he did dearly love Catherine. His wife had stuck with him through thick and thin, even his unfortunate sudden ageing and second identity during their trip to America. She’d raised three beautiful daughters, all witches, despite not a spec of magic herself. Her sister was though, so she was surrounded by it. Despite this, she’d trained as an accountant and enjoyed an entirely muggle life outside of the house. She was a marvel.

“Hello!” Catherine smiled and nodded politely, unsure whether to offer hand to shake. What a striking man! Why her husband’s studio was full of unusually important men, and for once it was nothing to do with him flying his car around the country. “Coffee?” She offered.

Monty could take his sitter discussing work if it meant he could remain in the studio for the sketches to be completed. He tugged his waistcoat down, nudged his stool on the tiled floor and refocused on his subject. He could zone out their conversation like he did the radio. It was bound to be thoroughly uninteresting if it was ok to let him hear it.

But the further Brinley Abbott detailed the plight of the magical population in a country Monty wasn’t even sure he’d heard of before, the more Edwin frowned. Unwilling to interrupt an important, Ministerial, briefing, Monty did what any self-respecting British person would do. He gave long, purposeful stares at the other two wizards, he sighed deeply, he even frowned himself, and then he… tutted.

Ordinarily there would be periods of silence as Octavius sketched his subjects. But it had not escaped the artist’s attention that should he raise the subject of cars, the Minister’s frown lines deepened. One wanted a portrait to be true to life, but equally, one did not want to show the warts and all if one had a choice. A magical portrait artist had to capture the essence and personality of the subject ahead of the enchantment on the paint. Conversation was essential to collect these sparks.

Unfortunately further interruption had arrived at the garden door. Monty hopped to his feet to let in Brinley Abbott. Abbott was a handsome man who wore a tailored suit even better than Edwin did. Monty felt suitably dressed for a morning of sketching in his studio, even with the Minister for Magic sat in the subject’s chair. When Abbott arrived, Monty began to feel underdressed, or that these two were off to far more important work. Once again, Monty had become a mere appointment in his old friend’s diary. Then, what did he expect with Edwin running the country’s magical population?

Edwin had only been there half an hour or more, and it was well before the hour mentioned on Edwin’s arrival. This portrait was going to take an awfully long time if they did it in half hour sittings!

Octavius closed the garden doors behind them all and ushered Edwin into the studio space where his materials were set up. A sturdy dining chair, freshly dusted a moment before, sat before a swathe of green velvet material held up by magic to form a backdrop. It had been the choice of Edwin when he’d compared it to other ministerial portraits. A nod to his Hogwarts heritage, and a contrast to habitually rosy cheeks.

Catherine left them without hesitation, heading towards the kitchen. The source of the rich coffee smell beginning to fill the downstairs of the house, overcoming the smell of paints around them. The studio as much more cluttered ordinarily, but today was unusually tidy. Their guest did not cover his glance about himself. The painter’s eyes followed, wondering what his estranged friend made of it all.

At once there was an ever so slightly awkward moment. Edwin was quieter than he might ordinarily be, and the painter unsure whether to invite him to sit or to discuss his subject’s chosen outfit for the appointment. Deeper into the house, Theta’s footsteps could be heard descending the stairs. The two wizards eyed each other in uncomfortable silence.

---

Every window in the house felt like it was open. The scent of bitter lemon, vinegar and strong coffee was swept through by the chilly early spring breeze.

“Love, love,” Octavius Pepper placated, cream shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows beneath a well-worn claret waistcoat, over brown corduroy which had seen better days. There was paint on the toes of his comfortable leather shoes and a tartan handkerchief drooped from his right hand pocket.

“I told you, he can’t be sitting on anything dirty, Octavius.”
“He’s not going to be sitting on the kitchen side, love. He won’t even be in the kitchen-.”
“I won’t have him thinking we’re untidy like…” Catherine Pepper gesticulated vaguely with a yellow duster and made towards the next surface in his studio. Outside the open windows the trees lining the garden rustled in the wind, branches creaking, and Harrold, the family’s big brown eagle owl hooted. Monty reckoned Harrold had made a wise decision to stay out of the house and at that moment wished he could join him in the branches.

“Alright. Fine. If you mus- I mean,” he corrected himself, “if it makes you feel better.” He turned away and took a deep breath, counting to ten. It wasn’t for anger, but more to calm himself. The butterflies in his stomach were nothing new, but it wasn’t as if their visitor wasn’t someone who had visited before. It was that part that made him wonder what his dear wife was on about with the ‘untidy’ impression.

Upstairs he heard the rhythmical thud of windows closing at the hand of magic. The floral curtains at the front of the house in the living room swung back and forth. Their guest wouldn’t even be arriving at the front of the house, but it looked as if they were preparing for a royal visit. He was pretty sure he’d seen Catherine ask Theta to get the best crockery down from the highest kitchen cupboard. Why their eldest daughter was tasked with cleaning the upstairs on a Sunday morning at the bid of her mother was beyond Octavius. They would owe Theta much for this over-the-top favour.

“And there we have it,” Monty exclaimed to his nephew, flicking the last switch just as the front door opened. The grand family car in chrome and deep Gryffindor red appeared out of nowhere on the driveway. It was the strangest thing to get in and out of an invisible car, and he always felt like a magician for the reveal.

“Octavius Montgomery Pepper!” His wife was on the warpath, all stiffly bent elbows, her fresh Christmas haircut flapping in the breeze as she stalked towards him.

Monty seized his nephew’s shoulders and dragged him in front as a mock human shield.
“H-Hello aunt Catherine-” Tim stumbled, adopting his most polite smile and throwing in some open arms for good measure in aid of his uncle.
“You’ve been flying that car again!”
“No, no, just apparated it here, my love-“ she was following him round the car jabbing her finger at him through the air. It was times like this he was very glad his wife did not possess a wand.

M Pepper,
Potton Road
Sandy
Bedfordshire

Zeta Pepper
Hufflepuff Common Room
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Z * E * T * A

Spoke to your mum and she agrees that keeping you and Eta occupied this Christmas is a good call. I have sent permission this morning. If you get good parts we will be sure to book tickets for the whole family. So we can heckle see your shining moment!

Have framed the latest issue of the Howler in the downstairs loo.

Lots of Love,

Dad x

M Pepper,
Potton Road
Sandy
Bedfordshire

Messrs Carstairs
Stardust Theatre
Covent Garden, London

To Whom it May Concern,

My daughters, Zeta and Eta Pepper wishes to be considered for your production of A Christmas Carol. Zeta is 16, Eta 14.

Anyone keen to occupy children at Christmas is welcome at our place.

Send details to the address above.

Regards,

Octavius Monty Pepper

M Pepper,
Potton Road
Sandy
Bedfordshire

Zeta Pepper
Hufflepuff Common Room
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Dearest Zeta,

Why does everyone think you’re suddenly dropping out of school? Because you take after me? Too cool for school.

He has inked a small cartoon of himself winking, in the margin.

There’s only ever been one naked portrait - Bagnold - and it wasn’t even from a sitter! Though because it was the one that made people notice me, it is something that sticks in the memory. Trust me, teenage me wanted to paint things like that but he got into terrible trouble ASKING girls. Francis and Gwydion were always doing inventions and I always knew he’d follow your granddad into the family trade, so I wanted to do something different. Something that made me happy and people thought well of me for. You know? I didn’t ever think I’d make a career out of it, until I met someone who did it.

As for my paintings. I restored countless ones after the Battle of Hogwarts. Ask Anne Boleyn - she’s on the grand staircase, near the second floor I think. She was at our house for over a year. Had you forgotten we had royalty with us all that time? Try Lazarus Rippringham-Gomfrey, Merlin rest his soul. Poor bloke was turned inside out. He passed before his time and as such, his portrait’s responses aren’t all that detailed. Think he was destined for the third floor corridor, though Sir Cadogan can tell you if he found another home.

Send me a copy of the HH when you’re published. I’ll frame them and tell all the neighbours my daughter’s published. I’m sure your caricatures will go down very well with the readers, less with the teachers, but that’s the whole point.

I’ve got Favian Forestcue coming round in a minute, and I’ve just realised I’ve still got baby vomit on me from visiting uncle Francis and Gabbie. This is about a summary of life back home right now. You’re missing nothing. Start making that America bucket-list…

He has enclosed a fold out map of magical north America for her perusal

Lots of Love,

Dad x

PS. Your mum thanks you for the lipstick, though she’ll write you her own letter soon I’m sure. Biro and lined notepaper, of course. She muttered about whether they did anti-ageing cream for me. I’m not that old!

M Pepper,
Potton Road
Sandy
Bedfordshire

Zeta Pepper
Hufflepuff Common Room
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Dearest Zeta,

The owl found me closer to home than you feared, though it rested an hour with Harrold[1], looking like little and large. Couldn’t resist the sight on the studio windowsill. Hope Harrold finds you well this morning and isn’t trying to steal your breakfast. Bugger’s always after my toast.

Monty has enclosed a rough ink and watercolour postcard of the two owls, Harrold looking disgruntled and the Hogwarts owl dwarfed in comparison and fast asleep

You are officially the eldest Pepper at school now Ambrose has left. I know you both shared the mantle last year after Theta left, but now you are unofficially Pepper-in-charge at school (unless your uncle counts). Your mother expects responsibility, maturity, consideration from you. She asks if you are getting enough sleep and if you are remembering to cleanse, tone and exfoliate. Apparently that’s about your face.

I don’t know, your grandmother used to remind me and Francis to shave and be polite to girls. I’d say be polite to boys but all boys at your age are idiots. I was one. I should know! They best be polite to you, but remember if any of them are too polite and too close I will need his name and house so I can turn up and read him the father’s riot act in Hogsmeade before he can touch my beloved daughter.

I’d also like to remind you it’s cheaper for me for you to stay there and not eat us out of house and home and steal my art supplies! Just don’t get yourself expelled, as I told you before you left, remember Icarus when choosing the altitude to fly at.

Do your best. That’s all we ask of you. But if you’re going to follow in your old man’s footsteps, best let me know by Easter if I’m setting up a second easel for my next sitter, or if we’re leaving Eta with your mother for the summer…

If you score an E on your term test in Defences I’ll pick you up from school in the car.

Lots of Love,

Dad x

1.	Monty’s strong eagle owl which carries his parcels, though becoming long in the tooth

24th Sept

Dearest Zeta,

Am thinking fondly of you in rainy Scotland in the California heat. You're so lucky to experience cool, damp days in the mountains when we're here in the sunny mid-twenties, testing new flying engines. It's a hard life!

Cheeky illustration of Monty in sunglasses

Don't forget to write to your old man (and your mother). Otherwise she'll start believing everything Eta writes. I'll be home next week to continue painting another Prewett portrait.

Dad x

Pepper’s moustache twitched, he was unconvinced at this intermediate step between Edwin flat out refusing, or getting into one of his cars. It sounded a bit like he was stalling. But then again, asking a Minister to step into a car that was effectively illegal in the country, was a Big Deal. He could have been laughed off entirely.

Why did he think that this advisor might just rule it out too? He’d have to do his homework on Edwin’s advisors… perhaps he’d get the nice looking blonde one he’d been seen in the paper with. Though, she looked a bit sharp too. Holmes would be worse though, much worse. He’d never say yes. He could try though - it was progress over ignored letters and unopened doors!

“But if they’re convinced,” Monty asked, encouraged, “you’ll come for a ride?”

“You’ll just have to see,” the Minister said.

End

In Monty’s opinion Edwin should have been very much worrying how the Americans were getting ahead of them in the game, but he didn’t see the world as Edwin did, and even more now he was Minister. The dossiers behind them could hold all manner of terrible secrets and impositions. Who knew what Ministers were party to at the top? Monty liked living obliviously!

He kept up a stare over the kitchen worktop, as they sipped coffee. He had to say, Edwin could still make good coffee. He’d quite forgotten, spoiled by the American delight in it instead of tea. It endeared the busy wizard to Monty again. He did miss his friend, for terrible rating of women in pubs when they were younger, his practical advice and caution, for always knowing best. He felt more of an affinity to Edwin since his gain in years too, but the lack of contact since April had driven them apart. This was meant to bring them together again!

“But the invitation’s for you, Ed.” He persisted, “The Minister for Magic, in person!”