Absit Omen RPG

Frank performed being sick and Zelda flicked her wand, casting a spell to snatch away the parcel from under her liar of a spouse. The box flew to Zelda's waiting hand. Frank didn't have to be told to be on his way - there was no hope here for anything other than something deeply awkward occurring. Frank took his coffee and left, having to chalk up the morning as a loss.

Zelda turned the paper-wrapped package over in her hands, making no remark on Frank's leaving. Not everyone understood she and Rafe's relationship. Zelda, to so many, seemed so joyless and always serious, and Rafe, dishonest and never serious. But truly, Zelda found Rafe hilarious and his attention made her bubble up - all on the inside of course. His playing cat-and-mouse with a piece of mail was as amusing as his pants cover story.

The package was wrapped in dark grey paper, the nice textured kind, but a water stain here or there and an out-of-place wrinkle showed the paper to having been reused for another purpose. Nothing was embossed, the only writing was Rafe's name and their address in a white ink. She turned the thing over and over again, feeling the weight of it. She guessed a heavy jar of something.

"So what is it?" she asked, not yet moving to actually open it in front of him. She didn't sound cross now that Frank had gone. "It's not Drammes."

It had always been a joke between them, that they'd give it all to Drammes Apotheke one day and retire.

It was a common misconception that boys were less emotional growing up than girls, but in fact, Zelda had to manage plenty of blubbering tantrums from her sons until well into their teenage years. She was not manipulated or unsettled by the phenomenon, but was not cold either. Her mother had said it once, that all acting out was a need expressed. The same was true of spotty, wilting, and biting flora.

Lucinda curled up and broke down, overwhelmed, unsure, stymied, and yes, afraid. Her spiraling negotiations were slapshod and desperate. The poor dear. Gently but with the full intention that she'd be obeyed, Zelda bent to Lucinda's level, laid a hand on her shoulder and took her hand.

"You'll go with Kurby here to the Ministry tonight. He's a bit of a grump but he'll you get something proper to eat and you'll feel better. Everything will be better in the morning - always is. Up you get, now."

As she waited for Lucinda's cooperation, she returned Kurby's panicked look with an encouraging expression. He seemed to need as much reassurance at the moment as Lucinda. There was no braver man Zelda knew than Kurby Bagnold, if only he'd apply it off the battlefield. Zelda took a deep cleansing breath.

"Get her something to eat, set her up in an office with a sofa. Hogwarts will have her address if the Registry doesn't."

"Lass, no one's goin' to sell you wolfsbane." Kurby supplied the missing piece, the fatal flaw in Lucinda Temple's plan. The accusation that Zelda was somehow in league with the Ministry prickled her, but she let it by. She wasn't turning the girl in for a crime, she was seeing to it to avoid a tragedy.

Kurby wasn't good at this kind of thing, but he was making an attempt. She'd make a point not to take this favor for granted. To Kurby's credit, Lucinda no longer looked like she was going to make a run for it - and really get herself into trouble. Zelda relaxed against the door frame a bit.

"You didn't actually take anything," Zelda said. "Go on with Kurby. You're not in any trouble. Yet, right?"

She lifted her eyebrows like parents do. Kurby was right - Lucinda would decide the next move.

Zelda had learned long ago to avoid being drawn into lack-logic arguments with kids.

"You need Wolfsbane Potion," Zelda insisted, not allowing herself to engage with Lucinda Temple's paranoia about being the next murdered werewolf.

"If you miss your dose, you could kill someone in three days' time. I think you know that, which is why you came here. We don't have any wolfsbane however, as I am not licensed to distribute. There's really no need for you to be climbing out me window into Knockturn Ally."

At the moment, other than nearly shoplifting and hinting that she might intend to avoid a safehouse, Lucinda hadn't broken any laws and so had no cause to be leaping from upper levels. Zelda probably had a more favorable impression of the fairness and understanding of her beloved werewolf hunter than did his quarries, though.

Frank had to take a quick step aside as his father hustled into the small kitchen. It was an unusual pace for his father who usually moved with the steady urgency of a sheepdog confident no wolf dare come near his flock - he didn't run for owls, for example, like Figaro after his Cheese of the Month.

"Of course you side with mum," Frank said rolling his eyes. "I don't want Fig's manky things."

Rafe's swift entrance had not gone unnoticed by Zelda who looked a bit like a ruffled cat.

"What's that?" she demanded of Rafe. "What did you order?"

He'd tried to keep her in bed this morning. 'Have a nice lie in,' her doting husband had said. Now she was on to him.

6 August 2012
Monday at 8am
Sellaphix House
London

It was early on a Monday, a day that Rafe and Zelda kept their apothecary in Knockturn Ally closed. Zelda and her youngest son, fourteen-year-old Frank, were in the kitchen at the rear of the house arguing. Frank stood in the doorway half dressed with a cup of coffee, looking too much like his brother.

"He doesn't live here anymore!" Frank was protesting having to continue to make space for Figaro's things in their shared bedroom even after his brother had moved out.

Zelda had no patience for it. "He's still a part of this family. I'm so sorry if it's a hardship for you not to have the entire closet."

"Can't he be a part of the family and take his stuff with him?" Frank countered, logic airtight.

"He doesn't have room for it."

"Actually, neither do I!" Frank raised his voice now but then clammed up when Zelda looked up from the eggs. "Whatever. I'll be at school in a month. Can I have some money for school books?"

Zelda shook her head. "No, your father will take you."

"Come on, I'm not a first year. Why?"

"No, but I don't need you spending gold when silver would do." They'd been over this before. Frank had costy preferences for school supplies and lately was more into clothes. Mother and son might have continued arguing but there was a tappity tap at the back window.

"That's the post," Zelda said and left the hob to let them in. There were two owls vying for space on the ledge. One had the Daily Prophet, the other a small parcel wrapped in dark grey paper.

Zelda smartly snapped her fingers and snipped at Lucinda and her snarly outburst.

"No," she directed sharply. "Sit down. Eat something."

The chocolate had landed on the desk. By Merlin, they were all going to make this transition peaceful and drama-free tonight.

"Maybe if you sit as well." Zelda regarded the wizard. Then she wouldn't feel so threatened. If Kurby did go along with it, Zelda would take his place in the door frame - she was more an obstacle of charisma than bulk, of course.

"She needs wolfsbane potion," Zelda told Kurby. "And somewhere safe to stay the night. The Werewolf Wing helps with these matters, don't they?"

It had to be presented in these terms as stilted as they were. So far, Lucinda, to Zelda's knowledge, had only nearly broken laws. She'd nearly shoplifted, and perhaps she'd only nearly missed a dose of potion. There was no need for snarling or white-knuckles on wands.

Zelda opened the chocolate and broke off a piece for herself and handed the rest to Lucinda who had not yet decided to run. They were in Knockturn Alley and it was well past dark now. If she didn't already have a plan for the night, Zelda couldn't imagine she was capable of making one on the fly and perhaps Lucinda was clever enough to know it, too.

"We're up here, Kurby," Zelda said just loud enough so her voice would carry down. He was being impossibly quiet but there was one loose baluster that would squeak. She'd said gentle not clandestine.

Zelda stood up so the seat would be available and pulled the door open wider. "I've called my friend Kurby," Zelda explained quietly, expecting this would feel like a betrayal. For a girl like Lucinda there was no functional difference between Werewolf Hunters and Aurors and Zelda herself wasn't immune to the subtle distinction.

"It's not safe for you to be on your own. He'll know what to do. And I've asked him to be nice."

Again, all of that parent-talk would be of no comfort at all, Zelda was sure.

"It's too difficult a potion and if you get it wrong, it's life and death," Zelda said patiently, crossing one leg over the other. "We don't meddle with Wolfsbane."

Now that sounded more like the tone she took with her boys, the tone that said disobedience in this matter was not an option. It worked with them, more or less.

The girl was alone and it was getting late. Zelda thought only briefly of taking the girl into her own home for the night, but the problem would wake up unsolved on the sofa in the morning. If the werewolf-girl was off her Wolfsbane Potion then she needed to be in the care of professionals not her lacking parents, or the Sellaphix parlor. Zelda knew what to do.

"Wait here, Lucinda. I'll be right back."

Zelda made no threats or assurances about where she was going - the assumption of compliance was sometimes all that was needed. Zelda knew she couldn't force the girl to stay, so this was her next best solution. Zelda left the office and trotted down the tight corridor to a little windowed alcove where their owl was roosting. She penned a letter, slid it into the owl's cuff and told it, "Kurby. Quickly."

Kurby - can you come to the apothecary at once?
There's a lost werewolf here called Lucinda.
Don't barge in.
- Zelda

Kurby lived in London, not at all far away. Zelda knew the owl would find him quickly. She didn't impose on Kurby often. He wasn't quite a son, but he had been part of the family for ages, in his own way. He tried to help when he could. Seemed eager to be of service sometimes for all that Rafe and Zelda had done over the years.

That sorted, Zelda got some chocolate with candied ginger from their sweets rack and returned to the office, hoping to see Lucinda there.

There we go. Zelda relaxed her posture some when this Lucinda Temple become more forthcoming. She remembered the name from Frank's letters, although he hadn't mentioned she was a werewolf, the sweet boy.

"If you are looking for Wolfsbane Potion," Zelda said, cutting directly to the point, "you can't get it here."

The red tape was thick for an independent potion-maker to become licensed to brew Wolfsbane Potion. Frequent scrutiny and inspections, for not as good a pay as one might hope. Rafe, the brewer to Zelda's herbologist, had never bothered. And with his record, it wasn't likely they'd be allowed if they tried.[1]

"And if you think you can brew it yourself - what are you, thirteen? Fourteen? I don't think so. And even then, you don't have enough time."

It was only three days until the full moon, Zelda knew. That meant Lucinda should be in the middle of the seven-day course that needed to precede the event. If she was without...

"Are you alone?" Zelda tried. Her voice was a little quieter, a little less intent.

1.	Rafe Sellaphix was convicted of charges related to smuggling dangerous potion-making ingredients.

Zelda smiled tightly - just a pinching at the corners of her mouth. She crossed her arms over her chest. Her? Call the Aurors? Not likely.

"I won't." She said it firmly but without insistence. The girl would believe her or not.

"What's your name?" Zelda asked again. "Do you go to Hogwarts? Maybe you know my son. Frank?"

Aurors were out of the deck, but Zelda would need to know something in order to do her best by the girl. Frank was likable, Zelda knew this. Non-controversial. Figaro had snuffed out any hinting of an early inclination to be a tattle-tale and neither of her boys had a mean streak. She thought he might be a safe bet to introduce to the conversation, to draw out something other than those knobby knees.

Zelda took the girl to the office, a small room on the second level. It had a dormer window, desk, and hearth which was just big enough for a small cauldron. It might have seemed cluttered, but everything was very well organized. There were two chairs. Zelda directed the girl to the nicer one and then sat down opposite.

"I'm not going to anything to you," Zelda said firmly. "I only plan to help. My name is Mrs. Sellaphix. What's your name?"

[content note: mention of abortion]

Before Zelda's eyes the girl transformed from a thief trying to summon nerve to someone truly afraid, twitching to run. The story about pregnancy was likely a cover, but young witches had done stupider things to induce an abortion.

Looking at her here, the girl couldn't have been much older than her own son Frank. And then Zelda recalled the Prophet from last winter and the letters from Hogwarts.[1] Merlin return, was this the Grant girl, the werewolf whose parents had kept her hidden only to cause a disaster. Zelda herself was struck by a change in her demeanor, although she tried to cover: she had to do something.

"I think I do understand. Come upstairs with me and we'll sort you out," Zelda said, trying on her more motherly tone, hoping not to spook the girl. She set a small sign on the counter that said, 'will return', and came out from behind to the foot of the metal staircase that led up to the balcony but also a few small Employee Only rooms.

"Come on, then."

1.	17 Dec 2011 - Grants Sentenced in Werewolf Attacks

Simon overcame his nosiness and went on his way. He'd have loved to have stuck around to see Zelda murder a child, but he had to get on with his day.  He gave his farewells and Zelda returned to her record-keeping, all the while keeping half an eye on the girl. For a shoplifter, she certainly was taking her time. Perhaps she was losing her nerve.

Zelda was, nonetheless, surprised when the girl approached the counter. She had a jar of black quicksilver and an unusual request. Zelda didn't immediately make any move other than to give the girl a long look - which the girl had to expect being of Hogwarts age roaming around Knockturn. Zelda's career was important to her, but she was, at the beginning and end of the day, a mother. The girl looked in poor shape.

"Carrow spider myrrh is only used in one or two very difficult brews," she said, sliding the quicksilver to herself. "And you'd want the pulverized black quicksilver. This liquid won't work. Burn a hole in your cauldron."

"Thief..."

There was, behind the counter, a nondescript little brass plaque secured onto the exposed brick wall. It was tarnished and no bigger than your palm. It looked like an gaunt ghostly face. Normally, it hung there cold and solid, unmoving, and silent. But when it sensed ill intent and sticky fingers, it opened one eye and uttered a warning to the Sellaphixes.

"Thief..." it whispered hoarsely, barely audible. Zelda looked up and scanned the shoppers, looking for some sign of suspicion. Her gaze landed on someone small with her hood pulled up. She was up on the balcony among the prepared herbs. Zelda made no move to intercept -  she touched the nose of the Watchful Mary to quiet it, then went back to ringing up the wizard at the counter, Simon Kúzlo

"You're not going to let her go, are you?" Simon asked, having seen the whole thing.

Zelda didn't look up. "Sometimes they think better of it."

"Bet you wish you had the Magical Law Patrol in Knockturn now." Simon smirked.

Zelda looked up then. "Oh, I handle thieves myself. Twelve galleons five knuts."