Absit Omen RPG

“Hello, healer-in-training Ambrose.  Have you seen Ghostbusters?” Jacoba offered with a grin.  Jacoba assumed the Healer’s answer would reveal whether the question made sense.

The young woman did recognize the healer, but that wasn’t necessarily a surprise.  She wasn’t any better equipped to identify him as one of those that had treated her; she hadn’t been lucid during most of them.  But, the patients had nothing but time and few activities to keep them occupied beyond watching the flow of traffic through the room.  And, he’d been an easy one to watch.

“This is my brother, Sasha.”  As reliable as crowing rooster, her brother obeyed all the niceties and rules of etiquette by popping straight up to his feet, fussing at his school uniform and extending a hand to the healer. 

”How are you today? Any new concerns or questions?  If you could, then, please drink this whenever you’re ready.” 

Jacoba accepted the concoction, grimacing in anticipation of the taste.  “Nothing new.”  Jacoba shook her head.  “Nothing beyond the impatient whining of someone eager to see the last of the evil juice.”  Jacoba inhaled deeply and then exhaled, so she could down the whole potion in one go.  She held her breath and waited for her stomach to settle around the bitterness before handing the flask back. 

"Yellow roses, joy, white lilies, youth, purity and majesty,”

Jacoba attempted to laugh, but the sound came across more as of a croak.  She let her head fall back against the pillow and took a deep steadying breath.  “Youth, maybe.  Purity, that’s a bit of wishful thinking.  Perhaps back when I was nine.  But, then I found Xena.”  Jacoba gave a half-hearted grin and nodded. 

”I really didn’t give it that much thought.  It was the one closest to the front,” she heard her brother admit.   Not that he was liable to give her, or anyone’s, purity much thought.  She probably didn’t have grounds to give him too much of a hard time, though; he could become preoccupied at the best of times.  As the perfectly centered vase could attest to. 

Jacoba shifted, trying to find a comfortable and more upright position so she turn more properly to her guests, but again, dizziness got the better of her.  She settled back and closed her eyes, waiting for a moment to let the vertigo pass. 

“Luckily, I missed the glowing vomit, as well,” Jacoba admitted.  “I’m sure it was spectacular.  Like Slimer’s ectoplasmic fountain.”  Without trying to lift her head, Jacoba pointed a hand roughly in Johann’s direction.  “If you have not yet been subjected to the wonders of Ghosbusters, that must be rectified.  You simply have not lived until you’ve woken from a nightmare starring Stay Puft wondering why it scared you.” 

Jacoba sighed as she watched her brother fidget, nudging the vase on the small bed stand between the two neighboring beds.  The vase slid easily across the perfectly smooth, sterile, unadorned wood.  And, just as he’d done for the last five minutes, Sasha slid the vase right back to where it had started.  It was impossible to tell if the meddling had an end goal or if the boy was just mindlessly fidgeting. 

“Rudi!” Jacoba said, as sharply as she could, her voice still scratchy and hoarse.  “You’re going to make us all nervous.  There are people trying to heal here!”  Jacoba managed a grin as the boy jumped. 

Jacoba had no recollection of how she’d ended up at St. Mungo’s.  Saturday evening had found her out at a nightclub, enjoying a few drinks, but sometime after the second drink, she'd started to feel dizzy and then light-headed.  What she remembered of what followed was akin to one of her worst trips - and, she’d been known to play around with some pretty sketchy substances.  She vaguely remembered medics asking what she'd had to drink and if she'd taken anything else.  She thought she remembered telling them she'd been clean for years, but she also had memories of the two men melding into one and then splitting back into two like some really confused mutant.  The next lucid memory was waking in this hospital bed.  With Johann Storm laying in the neighboring bed and healers in green wizard robes bustling around the other beds in the long room. 

“I’m sure we can share though.  Look at him!  He’s clearly more of the flower type.”  The worried determination in Sasha’s expression had flickered into surprise when he entered the room.  That, along with the blush and single vase of flowers in his hands, suggested he'd found one more person than he’d been expecting to visit.  Jacoba hadn’t been able to surmise whether she or Johann was the plus one. 

“Besides, I’m not interested in floral.  You?”  She glanced across towards Johann. 

What would be her first choice?  For as easy as it had been to decide which location was second choice, committing to a first choice was a little more thought provoking.  The younger woman pursed her lips before committing to a response: "I'm afraid it's a two way tie between Krakow and Amsterdam."  Krakow, like Prague, was one of those remarkable old cities.  Friendly faces always drew her back to Amsterdam.  "Love both of those cities.  But, I haven't had the chance to live in Krakow, yet."  One day.

"I didn't suspect you would be.  A purist would have had to swallow a lot of pride to engage in hostel chatter over beer."  And what would a purist have gained from such an activity?  "But, I've learned to be cautious.  I started out as a magic-less interloper and, really, I'm only slightly less of an interloper.  I've run into some dissenters in the past.  Things have settled down but it still doesn't hurt to be a bit cautious.  I have few defenses against magic beyond me impeccable charm."  Jacoba grinned broadly.

Oddly enough, Jacoba had had an much easier time adjusting to being a muggle in the wizarding world than she'd had adjusting to being a witch herself.  In retrospect, the initial plunge had been about as smooth as one could hope.  "There was a lot going on family-wise, at the time," Jacoba admitted.  "I'd left home when my brother was eight so I hadn't seen him in over seven years when he sent me an owl out of the blue.  Somehow he'd kept it a secret from our parents, though.  I found out where he actually went to school before they did.  It was all a bit messy - I didn't intend on staying in London.  But, I found myself living with an Auror and just assimilated the best I could.  All those hostel hopping skills were put to good use." 

"So, taking kids from the dark ages to the internet age," Jacoba summarized.  She glanced towards the door of the sleepy joke shop before shaking her head.  "That's quite an undertaking.  Any thoughts on how you'll do that without any of the necessary technology?  Puppet shows in cardboard boxes cut to look like televisions?"

Food?  Alcohol?  No one over thirty?  Jacoba's interest has been piqued!  Not entirely sure how she'd know about it but, if she did, Jacoba would be happy to join!

"Not a bad place to teach," Jacoba admitted, with a broad grin.  "Might even be my second choice, if I could chose anywhere.  Especially in winter."  Small world, indeed.  From a castle in Germany to, well, a castle in Scotland. 

Jacoba chanced a quick, cautious glance around where they were standing.  Though the occasional comment or scornful look still lingered, it had been some time since Jacoba had dealt with any significant grief.  Zonko's hardly seemed the standard haunt for purists and uptight conservatives.  However, she still erred on the side of caution.  You never knew who might take offense. 

"I don't mind.  So long as your not a closet purist who has a fetish for tarrying at muggle hostels."  She grinned, just in case she needed further proof that hadn't been a serious concern.  "My brother - he's a sixth year up at Hogwarts.  He wrote me little over a year ago to tell me he was a wizard.  Was oblivious before then.  Somehow, after an ex-boyfriend or two, just got stuck in the wizarding world here.  Was a squatter for most of the time but, apparently, I'm an official card carrying member."

Jacoba glanced around the shop.  "No.  I imagine things change pretty slowly around here.  What will you be teaching at Hogwarts?"

Despite the warning and a hand extended to try and catch the man, the fellow with the familiar face still ended up on the floor.  "I'm so sorry!" Jacoba offered her hand, again, to help the man to his feet.  She smirked, sheepishly, as he dusted himself off. 

Chances were slim that Jacoba would have been the one to fit the man's appearance with a memory; the last few years here in wizarding Britain felt too much like a brand new life.  Her best friend, Erwin Koppel, was about the only remnant of those years that lingered.  But, trying to remember the man in front of her felt like trying to reach into the memories of a past life.  Luckily, he didn't require the assistance of a psychic or medium to remember her. 

As soon as he offered his name, the memory clicked.  "In Bacharach[1], right?  At Burg Stahleck?[2].  You were passing through.  On your way to Prague, I think?"  Jacoba's brow furrowed as she tried to dredge up the memory.  "Four years ago, I'm pretty sure.  I'd just turned eighteen - so would have been summer of 2008.  July or August." 

A broad grin spread across Jacoba's face and she laughed, lifting both hands in a who would have thought gesture.  "I thought I was a muggle then, too.  Well, not exactly.  I didn't know it was an option. This is all somewhat of a new discovery."  She glanced around the shop before turning back.  "Needless to say, it has been an interesting couple of years.  Though, I seem to have ended up where I need to be so I can't complain.  How about you?  What brings you to Hogsmeade.  Other than being a wizard?"  Or, she supposed, squib.  A subtlety that would have been lost on her until recently.

1.	Bacharach, Germany
2.	Bacharach Hostel at Castle Stahleck

Work and family had brought her up to Hogsmeade on Saturday and a Sunday off had been motivation to stick around for the whole weekend.  The fourth and final Tetra-wizard tournament task had taken place the day before.  Not only had she been sent for work, she was family of a champion, even if that champion had done his maze crawling earlier in the year.  In more ways than one, her attendance had felt much more official and much less under the radar than when her brother had represented Hogwarts.  She'd been sure to take full advantage of that fact.

The festivities had ended with only minor incidents and Jacoba had spent the night in Hogsmeade.  After a quiet, leisurely breakfast, Jacoba had spent the morning strolling the dusty village streets and peering into shop windows.   

Zonko’s never failed to catch the attention of the magically-impaired witch and not just because it contained an array of fantastical magical items that even one as magically inept as her could use.  Who needed a wand when one could just entertain themselves with a bike riding duck or a perpetually-insulting yo yo?  Oh the things she could have gotten into as a teenager with some of these things!  It was also just fun.  One couldn't enter the shop without getting a grin plastered on your face. 

Except, perhaps, when you were a tired parent being dragged in by a hyper, excited child.

Jacoba had been wandering through the aisles, paying more attention to the myriad of colors and sounds than where she was going.  She didn’t notice the large fellow until she was on top of him.  Uncomfortably literally.   The man standing in front of her had a strange, familiar sense to him though, for the life of her, Jacoba couldn't place where she'd seen him in the wizarding world.  The wizarding world wasn't that large and she knew so little of it.  Yet, still, there was something about him that kept trying to tickle a memory.

"Incoming!" she offered in warning, trying to stop herself before, actually, She grinned good-naturedly to soften the accusatory finger she pointed at the fellow.  "I get the oddest feeling I recognize you from somewhere."  The German accent was prominent in the young woman's voice.  Jacoba took a step back, reaching a hand out to steady herself. 

“You don’t work at the Ministry, do you?"

"Why am I the screaming one?" Jacoba turned her head to gape at Corby with an exaggerated, feigned look of offense.  Aside, of course, for the perfectly perfect excuse Corby had already given.  It was hard to argue against a boom in record sales.  While he stood in superman-pose, Jacoba punched Corby lightly on the shoulder for good measure, the magically-incompetent witch grinned and turned forward once more. 

Unlike most of wizarding world counterparts, Jacoba hadn't shared the same deep-setted cultural fear of the hooded creatures.  Much in the same way she'd never shared the same doe-eyed fan-girl insanity when she'd first met Corby, Dennis and the rest of the band.  The Ministry pamphlets did a fine job of providing a clinical description of the hooded creatures but Jacoba didn't have any real basis for understanding what having your soul and all happiness sucked out of you meant.  Having never encountered, either directly or as a bystander, it had almost sounded ... goofy.  An observation she kept to herself though her ignorance was often evident in her reactions. 

Another reason she needed this outing with a friend willing to call the creatures dementoids.  "I'll just keep some death metal cued up, ready to blast them.  They can go head-to-head with Iron Maiden.  Then you'll have dramatic music for your heroic display."

"I'm not sugar, I'm a flower," Jacoba retorted, sighing and rolling her eyes at the state of her hair.  "I need sun to open up and blossom."  She lifted her arms skyward, spreading her fingers in a pantomime of a bloom opening."

“Hope you’re ready to get your arse handed to ya in some bumper cars. Loser buys the next round of drinks,”

"I'd like to see you try!" she taunted.  "You'll be bringing me my drink on a silver platter while your crumbled clown car stalls out in fear!  But, no magic.  Magic's cheating!"

Ooo!  I have a few possibilities to toss your way!  Assuming Arrow's darkness doesn't have purist/anti-muggle leanings.

There's a possibility Jacoba might fit with #1.  She's close in age and has been working at the hip little record store in Diagon for about a year and some change.  She's had a similar past - lived on the streets a few years, made her way from strangers' couches to strangers' couches.  The record shop was, really, her first 'real' job and she's now at the Ministry part time but not long enough to forget (or be too far displaced) from her carefree roots.  She's shuffled through a couple romantic interests so probably would have turned him down/ignored any romantic interest.  However, she's fancy free now and could tentatively fill role #5.  Again, assuming he isn't purist/anti-muggle.  Jacoba came on to the scene as the "muggle in Diagon" so she has a bit of a reputation.  She has since learned she is a witch but without training or knowledge of what to do with that, she hasn't gone out to actively change her reputation.

Dennis Creevey is my other young-adult-y character running around wizarding London.  He's a laid back wrock star but any girl drama would have been a year+ in the past since he's a new father who's fairly committed to his crew.  He's still a hard partier, though.  He's more likely to cross Arrow's path at a pub around drinks than lattes.  Again, Dennis has a bit of a reputation for being pro-muggle, anti-purist so political leanings might influence this. 

If your character is more purist-ly inclined ...
Cinaed is my only really darkly-inclined character and he may be more than what you're looking for for Arrow.  There's plenty Arrow might overhear that he shouldn't, it just depends on how involved of a reaction/response you're looking for.  This would be a good option if you want to expose Arrow to a significant fright.  Or, if you wanted him heading down a distinctly dark path. 

Oh Brits and their propriety!  Even after years of drunken disorderly conduct, even their rock stars weren't entirely immune to it.  How readily Jacoba forgot that the Brits were somewhat more bashful than their mainland European neighbors.  Jacoba rolled her eyes and turned back to the task at hand, despite Corby's lack of helpfulness.  He may be content with throwing on whatever article of clothing he spotted first, but Jacoba was not. 

A top, a seater leather jacket later, Jacoba shoved her feet in a pair of boots and grabbed her bag.  After double checking her bag for her car keys, she turned and waved Corby out the door.  "Muggle-style debauchery is my spécialité," Jacoba countered with a grin as she followed, locking the door behind her.  "I was thinking of heading over to Namco.  Beer, potato skins and childish antics?  Figure bumper cars have to be as good at staving off dementors as anything else, you know."  At least for one who could no more cast a patronus than leap over building in a single bound. 

"That sound appetizing?" Jacoba asked.  "Hit up a club after?"  They could plan for an evening of progressive debauchery. 

She skipped down the shop's back steps and glanced, briefly, towards Arthur.  The young man seemed content, with no obvious signs of lost franticness, so Jacoba pushed her way through the shop door and out onto Diagon Alley. 

"When will this rain go away?!" Jacoba glared at a dark cloud lingering off towards the east before looking pointedly at Corby as if expecting an answer. 

Despite almost a year and a half in the wizarding world, displays of overt magic still fascinated Jacoba.  The day to day architectural magic of the brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron and the floo network were settling into the mundane of normality in much way automatic doors at shops and escalator's self-moving stairs faded into the backdrop of the muggle world.  Conscious, purposefully crafted acts of magic controlled by someone's will still continued to be  novel and titillating.  Perhaps more so now that, in theory, such actions were potentially within her abilities. 

She watched Raizel cast the spell, grinning, slightly, as the soft light enveloped the other woman.  She spared another moment to consider the faint light shimmering around her own frame before turning her attention back the box in front of her. 

But, even with the aid of the spell, they found nothing of note.  Most of the library's files seemed to be filled with official, legal notices: birth certificates, death certificates and other items kept more for legality purposes than sentimental value.  Jacoba replaced the files and stood, drumming her fingertips on the desktop. 

"My grandmother married into the family after the war - so Otto would have been dead by then.  But, he was first born.  He probably had suitors but, as far as I know, he had no serious relations.  So, any wartime correspondences would have probably been to my great-grandmother and any personal effects they received after his death would have probably been consolidated with that?  Perhaps they're still in the master bedroom?"

Jacoba led the way to the sitting area of her grandparents' bedroom and began rummaging through drawers, cabinets and the closet.  Everything appeared mundanely un-shimmering until she tugged open the doors to the bottom of the armoire.  Old archival boxes were carefully lined up on the two shelves in the armoire.  A soft glow was eminating from under the lid of the one labeled OLW.  Jacoba withdrew the box and removed the pair of old card boxes. 

Inside each card boxes, letters, journals and photographs were stacked in a casual though not messy manner.  If they had been disturbed since each box had been placed in the archival box, the contents had been replaced with the same apparent hand-placed care they'd originally been placed inside.  They appeared to be in rough chronological order, starting when he first enlisted in 1939. 

"So, we know they crossed paths in 1939.  How long did Harrison stay with Grindelwald?  Do we know?" Jacoba asked, carefully withdrawing the contents of the first box.

It was a Sunday afternoon - and it was a free Sunday afternoon at that.  During the last three months of working part time at the Ministry and part time at Reducto's, significant stretches of free time had become infrequent novelties.   As the little shop bell chimed over Reducto Record's door, Jacoba slid the last of her stack of restocks into the record bins and hurried over to the counter. 

"Mystical mood music has been restocked," Jacoba said to Arthur, the record shop's newest hire, as she circled around the counter to grab her bag.  "There are no more deliveries expected today.  Mrs. Donnelton will be by around three to return her copy of Weird Sisters.  And, with that, I'll bid you adieu.  Goodbye.  Good luck.  All the various necessary sundries."  With a parting wink and grin to the young wizard, Jacoba slipped through the door at the back storage area and up the stairs to the small, modified flat in the shop's attic otherwise known as home.   

Jacoba shrugged out of her work clothes, tossing them on the unmade bed.  She crossed the open attic to the corner-turned-closet and began rummaging through her more-muggle oriented garments.  Three choices of shirts were tossed across the room onto the bed.  She'd just tugged a tight pair of black jeans from their hanger when there was a knock on the door. 

"It's open!" Jacoba called towards the door.  "Though be forewarned.  I'm playing the role of paper doll.  Enter at your own risk."  She was just tugging the first of the three blouse options (a simple, white button up) over her head when the door creaked open and Corby walked in.  "What do you think?"  She asked, turning towards him.  "With the leather jacket?  Yes?  No?  Came here not to think?"  Jacoba grinned, turning to lift one of the other shirts off the bed.  "I'm heading out for a bit.  You bored?"

Jacoba looked up from her stack of papers and across the library, grinning at Raizel.  So, little to no German on the cursebreaker's part.  Somewhere hidden in this was the plot for the strangest sitcom.  A magically-capable witch who knew no German and a German-speaking, magically-incompetent sort-of-witch attempting to find information written in German potentially hidden by charms.

The younger woman turned back to the box in front of her and lifted it.  This time, her grin held a mischievous slyness as she rounded the desk and sat in the big leather chair with an exaggerated, satisfied air.  "You have no idea the years I've dreamt of doing this.  It feels so scandalous."  Granting herself a moment to relish the moment, Jacoba reached in to pull out the topmost stack of papers. 

"I don't trust manual translations, half the time," Jacoba admitted as she leafed through the pages.  Even with full use of the human brain, translations were finicky things.  There were just so many facets and elements of writing, ones that had little to do with the actual choice of words.  Tone.  Idioms.  Double meanings.  Ask anyone to translate Rammstein and they'd admit it was near impossible.  They never actually meant what they said.  Jacoba hesitated a moment at the mention of using charms on the pages, her lips pursing in confusion at her own unidentifiable reaction.  The gut reaction of the part of her that was a history student wanted reassurance that the charms wouldn't harm anything in the room.  The rest of her scoffed at that reaction, reminding her how often she'd wished the lot of this stuff would just vanish. 

Finally, she let reason prevail.  "It'll probably be necessary.  The more I think about it, the more likely it is what we're looking for is concealed.  Military records seem the most likely place to start; if Otto was in uniform in the picture, I assume he and Harrison crossed paths while Otto was at the front."  Away from the prying eyes of home.  "Anything referring to the Wehrmacht.  He was the only one who was active military.  Everyone else was ... police." 

Ministers.  Magical Maintenance.  All of these were words and terms that Jacoba had encountered in the past though almost exclusively on an abstract level.  Minister of Magic was something read in the Prophet.  Magical Maintenance...well, that was one she had yet to come across and with a smile and a wave, Jacoba watched them pass, momentarily fascinated by what they might encounter on a daily basis. 

But, Jacoba's attention returned to Edwin and Aisling as they explained the emergency wardrobe.  That answer seemed to provide more insight to the Ministry's role when interacting with Muggles than any of the more academic discussions before. 

"So, we try to take a more official role when out and about and in disguise.  More ... business-like governmental officials from an unidentified Ministry than grassroots blending in."  It made sense, especially if they were trying to sweep in and tidy up a magical mess. 

"Thank you," Jacoba offered Edwin, remembering he had meetings to get to.  She was as appreciative of the opportunity as he was of the time he'd taken that morning. "So I follow you, now?" Jacoba asked, turning back towards Aisling. 

Ack!  So sorry this took so long!