Absit Omen RPG

The witch apparently in charge of the shop was atop a thin ladder that appeared to be balanced precariously against a cluttered shelf crammed with boxes and boxes of wands. Eyes almost bulged from the young wizard’s head as he watched her take a tumble and begin to fall to the ground. But no bang. Nope. Instead, the wirey silver haired crazy witch turned into white cat and landed very delicately at their feet.
“Whoa.” The 12 year old exclaimed as she transfigured before their eyes back into a normal…well, a regularish witch. Dark eyes shot over the purple glasses and over the top robes and ridiculous hair. His mum could teach this old witch something about dressing, couldn’t she?

"I think we're here to make a purchase," Dante’s Dad explained, getting an odd look from his son. They were here to make a purchase, no thinking needed.

"If you have the pieces of the broken wand," crazy lady cat witch addressed Dante, holding out her hand for…oh, then he realised. Dante’s brows shot up and he stared across at her with incredulity.
“Hey, my wand isn’t broken!” The cheek of it! “I’m not some hufflepuff klutz, lady.” She was just old, wasn't she? Incept and old. "My dad is the one that needs the wand."

If Leo Gamp was nervous or at all overwhelmed by the crowded Diagon Alley, his son was utterly oblivious. Dante García had happily lead the way towards the wand shop, rambling about his own wand and experience at Ollivanders. It didn’t occur to him that his father might feel dazed by the sheer amount of people or pace. Neither did it occur to him that his father might feel dejected at not having been there for the wand choosing. Leo hadn’t been there for anything. But he was now, and that was what mattered.

When he stumbled over a description of his wand, Dante did look up, confused. Witches and wizards proudly shared information about their wand. It was supposed to be quite telling, a wix’s wand. His mum’s wand was made of oak. That meant loyal and she supposedly had deep intuition. She had a hippogriff talon used for charms. The wand itself was bent and quirky. Quirky like his mother.

“I don’t know much about redwood.” The almost teenager shrugged. Unicorn tail hair, however, he’d heard of. People said it was easy to turn to dark magic. Like his Dad had supposedly if one believed all those horrible liars. Dante frowned up at his dad, suddenly feeling a little guilty. His redwood unicorn hair wand would have been snapped when he’d been convicted.

“Could be the same. You never know.” Dante tried to shrug off the awkwardness as he stopped outside Ollivanders. With an intake of breath to steady himself, he pushed the door open. Above the door, a bell jingled to alert the owner to their entry.

Immediately following Through the fire

---

"It's been a long time since I've been to Ollivander's," Leo Gamp said, glancing at his son.  "I don't suppose you remember the way?"

They were stood outside the Witch Weekly headquarters, now. A big glistening sign with sparkly letters and a picture of the random witch model in her black pointy hat. The letters underneath the magazine’s name read Editor in Chief, Queen G.

Before them, people were milling about, some rushing through the crowds to get their shopping done quick. Dante grinned up at his father.
“It’s down here. Come on.” He started to meander down the street towards the wand shop, being careful not to rush. His dad wasn’t used to crowds, was he? Even Dante, as an almost 13-year-old knew that everything was going to be a massive adjustment. That was why he was there to help, wasn’t it?

“Mamá took me last year to get my wand.” He pulled it out of his coat pocket and lifted it up to proudly show his Dad. “11 inches, birch, dragon heartstring core. It’s supposed to be the most powerful, good for bonding with its master. Bit temperamental, but I’m working on that. What did you have? Before…well…” he frowned, suddenly regretting his question. Leo’s wand would have been snapped when he got sent to Azkaban. That was why they were here now. Fortunately, they were approaching the shop when he trailed off. So he pushed open the door and tried to forget asking the question.

Dante cast another glance to his mum who was looking extraordinarily rough. She never really got ill unless it was a hangover, and this wasn’t that.
“Agreed.” He nodded. She was better off staying in bed. His plan to get his parents back together may end up being a little delayed, but he supposed he’d get some alone time with his Dad.

Was there anywhere else he wanted to stop? Well, it was almost Christmas, wasn’t it? He needed to get something for both of his parents now. Not that he needed anything. His Dad was back. That was pretty huge, wasn’t it?

“There’s a few places.” He said, tapping the side of his nose. Their little secret.

“Tu verita, Mijo.” His mother reminded him, hand outstretched and a look on her face that told him disobedience would be very bad for him. With a huff and a significantly deep frown, Dante reached into his pocket and pulled it out, putting it in Gen’s hand.

She stood and headed into the kitchen area, fingers gripping a dining chair for support on the way past.
Dante looked at his Dad, pulling a face. “She’s not always loca, I swear.” Not most of the time, anyway. “I best be getting that back.” He took a big gulp of chocolate milk, finishing it and leaving himself with a lingering chocolate milk moustache. “Are you ready? It’s going to get busy early, isn’t it?” Handy they lived in Diagon, really. “¡Mamá! ¡Necesito mi verita!”

From around the corner, Gen appeared, looking paler than before. Dante’s wand was in her hand and she offered it back. “Stay safe, Mijo.” she glanced to Leo. “Watch him. He runs off.” Too inquisitive, she always said.

“I’m not giving you my wand.” Dante informed his mother as she broke into a fit of coughs. She had some sort of flu, it was Christmas time, bugs spread faster than gossip at Hogwarts. She could still have dragged herself out of bed far sooner and put some damn clothes on ready for his Dad. But nope, his Dad was being spit out of the fireplace and there was mum, grumpy, coughing up germs, and in her dressing gown. Dante shared one last scowl at his inappropriate mother before grinning at his Dad.

“She’s fine.” Dante waved his hand. “She’s got a cough and she’s just being dramatic.” He rolled his eyes and ignored the dirty look shot his way by his mother. Throughout his long and important 12 years of life, it had often been difficult to discern just which of the pair was the mature adult, the parent.

“I’m fine.” Dante watched his Mum give his Dad a tight smile as she croaked.

“You want a coffee before we go?” Dante offered

Gen started to move towards the kitchen when Dante jumped in the way. “I’ll see to it!” His mum looked in no fit state to be making anyone a coffee. She’d probably snot and cough all over everything in the kitchen. Nope. No way. “Sit down. You can have honey and lemon, Mamá.” He waved encouragingly at the big comfy sofa before turning to walk through to the kitchen area. 3 cups were pulled down from the cupboard when he frowned and stuck his head around the corner. “How do you have your coffee, Dad?” Did his Dad even like coffee?

Dante looked most aggrieved. His mother didn’t need any help at home. She needed to let her son have some quality time with his dad. But nope, here she was dragging him away as if she’d not kept them apart for his entire lifetime. Clearly, Leo Gamp wasn’t seeing straight through his mother’s act, and kindly said how he’d like to come and see Dante’s room. The twelve-year-old frowned and nodded.

“You’ll be around first thing, promise?”  Dante wasn’t the sort of kid to sleep in late, even if his mum sometimes did. She was usually sleeping off the wine from a party the night before. He would get up and make some breakfast for them both for when she surfaced from her pit upstairs.

Gen pushed herself up from the sofa and Dante’s brows furrowed. She looked red and sweaty, like she’d just come back from a run. He wasn’t sure his mum had ever been on a run. She did yoga when she could be bothered, but never running.

“You look shite.” The kid told his mum with a frown.

Gen’s eyes widened before her brows furrowed and she tilted her head. Now Leo was going to think that she’d brought their son up swearing!
“Continue speaking like that and you won’t see the outside of your bedroom tomorrow, Mijo.” Now wouldn’t that anger Leo! Gen didn’t pull her jacket back on, she grasped it instead and waved at the fireplace. “You first. I will follow. Say goodbye.”

Dante’s gaze scanned between his parents. He considered full on saying no and refusing to leave, but knew that that would only end in some sort of argument and his mum didn’t look in the best of moods anyway. So, he relented and moved around the table to give Leo a tight hug.

“Who’s Enid?”

“The lawyer.” his mum informed him calmly. She seemed calm. Not happy. But calm was better than angry and screaming and shouting.

“So, she’s going to get you some money? Compensation for what they did to you?” It would have been easy to say that it was Dante’s excitement and current curiosity that was making him ask so many questions, but Gen would tell anyone that this was her son on a normal day. He questioned everything. Sometimes it could be exhausting. “That’s never going to make up for it, though, is it?” Money wouldn’t change the fact that Dante hadn’t met his Dad until now. “It’s not like we need it. Mamá’s got a whole vault full of gold.”

“Dante…” His mum breathed, clearly getting to the point before she snapped at him.

“You can help him!”

That was it. Dante’s dark eyes spotted the slight throbbing of a vein in her temple, the tell-tale sign she was angry. Her switch to Spanish, presumably so no one else understood, was unsurprising. “His lawyer will help him, Mijo. This now is about you and him, so stop telling him my business or you and I are going home where I will ground your arse until January for taking off. Your choice!”

Dante wasn’t used to being told off by his mum. They didn’t have that relationship. Presuming it was definitely best to move on, he dropped a dribble of milk in each cup and passed them around.

“You thought ahead a bit, didn’t you?” He broached what he hoped was something more acceptable. “I mean, you can’t have just not thought past the verdict, surely? You knew you were innocent. They couldn’t make the same mistake twice.” To his Dad’s side, his mum head leant forward, slicing them a piece of ginger cake each.

Well there was definitely something in the looks between his parents. Dante was certainly no expert in love; he’d never claim as such, but he could quite clearly see something in the way they looked at each other, and it wasn’t wind. His mum wasn’t angry with him. She’d chosen to smother him with one of those motherly crushing ‘I thought you were about to die’ hugs instead. But she wasn’t smiling. Why wasn’t she smiling?

“Might take a while, Dad. There’s a lot you’ve missed, isn’t there?” Dante jumped in, quite certain that his mother clearly didn’t have a lot to say. “That’s why we’re here though, to help.” He flashed a smile between them both before waving them into the living room. “Come on, Mamá, Nan’s got tea and cakes. Ginger cake. You love ginger cake.” Dante loved ginger cake too. Did his dad love ginger cake? “Do you like ginger cake too, Dad?”

Behind the chattering boy, his mother gave her husband a nervous smile and stepped closer to follow them into the living room. This meant suddenly standing very close to Leo. She looked up at him, the hint of a nervous but slightly nostalgic smile. “He loves ginger cake.” Unless that had changed over the decade he’d been away. “Just a touch of cinnamon and some orange peel.” Gen didn’t cook or bake. This was something she’d just remembered. Leo’s mother wasn’t a pleasant witch, but she’d always made excellent ginger cake.

Dante span around, grinning. “Come on, then!” he waved them into the room and dropped into the armchair. His parents could sit together. They’d have missed each other. His mum and dad, together.

“We shouldn’t linger, Mijo. Le…your Dad’s going to want some rest, I’m sure.” His mum lingered in the doorframe, clearly not sure if she was welcome. Or was it more?

“No, Mamá, Dad’s fine. You’re fine, aren’t you?”

In the living room, Dante moved straight to the sofa so that his Dad could sit beside him. The armchairs were too separate, too formal. This was his dad, afterall. Not some stranger or random wizard. This was his Dad. His own blood related father with scruffy hair, a friendly smile and a great fatherly hug. He’d never had a fatherly hug before. Sure, his uncles all hugged him when they visited. But this had been different.

His DAD!

“Alright, I guess.” Dante said, shuffling on the cushions to get comfortable. His legs dangled off the edge, feet not quite reaching the floor as he sat back. “I got really good grades, again. Just can’t get past Outstanding.” Except in herbology. He was naff at herbology. Dad didn’t need to know that. “Just like you. Mamá says I definitely get my smarts from you.”

His Dad then asked the world’s daftest question and Dante cocked an eyebrow, tipping his head sideways to stare at his Dad with confusion.

“My plans?” He asked, “To help you get back on your feet.” It was said as if Leo had no choice in the matter. According to Dante, he didn’t. “And to help you get back home. You can’t stay here, Dad. Sure, Nan and Grandpa are nice enough but they’re not mamá, are they? They’re not me.” They were a bit cold and stuffy. They were rich and liked to show it. They had a real house elf, and not just a twelve-year-old boy that got called an expensive house elf by his mum.

“Are you going to get your old job back? I bet you were an amazing auror.”


Dante’s eyes flashed to the living room door that led to the hallway before darting back to his Dad.

He grinned.

Mum would be mad that he’d done a runner. But then she’d see his Dad and all would be okay. Had to be. It was the rules.

“Romeo and Juliet.”

Figaro stut stut stuttered over how what to call Dante’s mum, and while the kid might have pointed it out at any other time, right now wasn’t appropriate. Dante was finally meeting his dad and Figaro Sellaphix was in the way. Now did he want his mum to be notified? Not really. She’d be straight there, fussing over how he’d taken off and been irresponsible. Then she’d freak out at his dad. She wouldn’t be happy. He knew that.

“Safe, and doesn’t need her rushing here.” He added to Figaro. She would rush because that was what mothers did wasn’t it? They worried. His mum, for all of her eccentricities and crazy alter ego, was a mother and therefore a worrier.

As if Figaro was now gone, poof, vanished, Dante turned to look up at his Dad. “Your room is just like when you were a kid, Nan says. She lets me use it if I stay over.” Which was rarely. His mum didn’t like him staying there, especially not in his Dad’s old room. In reality, it had once weirded Dante out too, back when he’d believed all the lied people had told about him. Now, the truth was out. Now, things could be normal and he could have a normal family. “It’s not very often, though. Just when mum’s got some big party to go to or something.” She still didn’t believe that he was old enough to stay home alone.

Should have stopped him? Dante’s eyebrows shot up behind his mop of dark hair. His Dad hadn’t wanted him there? What the hell? But he hadn’t wanted him visiting Azkaban either. Not like anyone would take him, anyway. They all thought he couldn’t handle it. They all thought he was too young. But he was handling this, wasn’t he? He’d managed to shake off his blonde lanky shadow long enough to make it here, hadn’t he? Did his family just have no faith in him?

Despite the joy at seeing his dad finally after forever, Dante looked slightly disappointed.

That certainly didn’t improve when his grandpa brought up his mum knowing his whereabouts. Oh crap. She’d freak out if she knew he was here. Literally freak out. But if he lied, that would be worse. At least he could see that logic.

Dante gave a shrug as he was ushered down the path towards Figaro and the house.
“She thinks I’m being babysat by Barney Crust Bucket at the Daily Prophet HQ. But he sent me for chips with Fig.” He told his grandpa reluctantly before glancing up to his dad. “I couldn’t just sit around waiting. I wanted to see you today. I knew you were innocent. You should be coming home with me, Dad.”

Behind his dad, Dante could just about hear his Nana exclaiming, shushed by his Grandpa. But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered other than the fact that his Dad was out. His Dad was out and he was here. Right here on this path outside his grandparents’ house. His Dad was hugging him tightly. He was real. Really here. Not just some ghost from letters and a few old pictures.

Dante’s eyes closed against the wizard’s chest as big arms held him close. He could smell a foreign musty scent mixed in with the new smell of his suit. He’d remember this forever, the moment when his Dad finally came home. When they finally got to meet.

After what felt like a minute or so, Dante drew back and looked up at the wizard he barely knew anything about.
“I wanted to be there, Dad. But he stopped me.” He waved a hand back at Figaro who was still stood on the porch like a lemon. A big silly lemon that followed other, sensible fruit through the floo network to gate crash on huge important family reunions. “You’re really here.” He repeated again, grinning. “I knew it. I knew it.”

Why was Figaro even here!? The kid was going to gate crash his first ever meeting with his dad now! He’d totally ruined this quick change of plan.

“My grandparents.” Dante informed the older boy, exasperated. He stepped out of the door and started to pull it to behind him. “I…we’re meeting my-”

*CRACK*

Dante froze mid-sentence, staring at the end of the path where three figures had just appeared. His nan, her face tearstained, his grandpa looking decidedly serious, and, he recognised from the pictures his mum had hidden, his Dad.

Leo Gamp looked much thinner in real life. And paler too. But there was the shaggy hair, much shorter than Dante’s. Bright green eyes that were now staring directly at him.

Momentarily, Figaro Gate-Crashing Sellaphix was ignored, and Dante stepped past him, letting his feet carry him quickly down the garden path and through the tiny gate. He didn’t wait for a greeting or permission, and he didn’t care about the apparent adult who stood on the doorstep staring. He practically threw himself at Leo, arms wrapping around his waist in a tight hug that needed to make up for 12-almost-13 years.

“I knew you were innocent.”

With all of the grace of an almost thirteen-year-old with no grace at all, and who was not accustomed to floo travel, Dante García was launched from the fireplace in his Grandparent’s living room. He body smacked into the floor, rolling several times to cover the lovely cream carpet in a nice layer of soot. The young boy, too, also happened to be covered in a nice layer of soot. He took several moments to recover himself, stand up and ruffle 5 fingers through his hair. A thin dust cloud rained down to join the dirt on the floor. His Nana would clean it up when she came in.

Currently, the living room was empty apart from the twelve-almost-thirteen-year-old, and there was no noise elsewhere in the large house. No one was here yet. But they were coming. Dante knew that they were coming. Where else would his Dad go after the trial? His mum had already told Dante that he wasn’t coming home. Nana and Grandpa definitely would have been at the trial.

Suddenly feeling rightfully nervous, Dante tiptoed to look in the mirror above the fireplace. He made a pointless attempt the flatten the scruffy curls atop his head, and used his shirt sleeve to try and smudge soot from his cheeks. It only made it worse. A big huff, puff and a sigh later, and the almost teenager was leaving the living room and opening the front door. He would wait on the front step for his first glimpse.

What Dante saw when he opened the door was not what he anticipated. The movement at the end of the path caught his attention and he gripped the door handle, considering slamming it shut again.

“You followed me!” Figaro Bloody Sellaphix was making his way through the garden gate!

Dante was on his feet, ready to head back to the Prophet with Figaro, when the big burly idiot continued yelling, clearly angry. He evidently believed all the lies told about Leo Gamp. Dante was half a mind to correct him. But, his gaze fell on the fireplace with a pot of floo powder. His better half a mind was telling him to get out of there.

“You’re happy about this %*#&@! being out? Today one ^#&!*!ing Death Eater, tomorrow the whole %*@&!($ lot of ‘em!” The burly brute continued ranting until someone tried to grab his arm. The brute lifted his fist, and Dante and Figaro watched in horror as his fist made hard contact with the cheek and eye of the poor sod trying to help. There were suddenly yells and wands pointed at them. Everyone in the pub was now watching this unfold.

Dante glanced to Fig who was staring at the fight. Quick as a flash, the boy was suddenly darting through the tables, launching himself at the fireplace. He thrust his hand into the pot of floo power, threw it in the fireplace and recited his grandparents’ address. The flames burst high in the fireplace and Dante jumped in.