RP: Eileen Prince, Severus Snape, ... Who: Eileen Prince, Severus Snape, ... Where: Hogwarts, Gobstones Team Room When: 5 February, 2025 Rating/Warnings: Summary: Eileen Prince wakes up at Hogwarts, but not in 1959.
The room was dark, empty.
Well, well, what have we here?
Eileen's hands travelled across her belt, methodically checking for the presence of wand, phials, flask, money: muggle coins and a stash of sickles, barely enough for a bottle of Ogden's.
Ugh. Not that I need it. Yet. At the moment, her stomach threatened to turn itself inside out in her throat and hang lolling from her mouth like a dead viper.
Eileen swallowed down the bile. "Aguamenti!" Bloody parasite. She pointed the wand at her face, opened her mouth. Rinsed, spat, rubbed her face. Better.
Her head hurt, but in the usual way of post-sloshed state. If that prick had the guts to slip anything into my last drink, I'll string the bastard up by the plums in his own pub.
She picked up an empty gobstone and dispensed it into her bag with practiced movement. She searched the floor and found another.
Odd. These aren't mine. I sold mine.
Usually Eileen only gave them away as convenient packaging for the delicate substances inside, but the poncy git - the 'Collector' - at the Leaky Cauldron paid five galleons for her Noisy Hitter. All it took was a few descriptive details about where it'd been. He doubled the price for the entire bag after he'd heard that the set had won her an international tournament spot. Ten galleons were a solid investment into repairing the sorry state of her supplies and Eileen was looking forward to brewing beyond the bare basics.
It's not like I'll need my old set anytime soon, she reasoned with herself. The Tournament's over for the year, and Kegg still won't let me as much as clink two stones together after all this time, smarmy sod.
Eileen clawed her greasy hair, stretched, rubbing her sore back, and wrapped her shawl around her midsection, to cover up the contents of her belt more than her condition. Her belt was too tight again; she loosened it a couple of notches.
She examined the room further. Three more gobstones on the table, more on the shelves. Not the cheap kind either, heavy and smooth. Gobstones were a game, but a good game. Especially good for carrying dubious liquids past watchful eyes into all sorts of places. Eileen filled her gobstones bag with the selection of best stones, enjoying the weight and the feel of it in her hands.
She stared at the dirty banners, the dusty game paraphernalia, the faded marks on the floor... Can this be the Gobstones team room. It aged far worse than I did in a decade...
I'm at Hogwarts then. How'd I get here? I can't have Apparated. Did I lose my last wit and made a trade with a teacher... or worse, a student. But I don't have anything on me. Or in me. I didn't brew anything out of the ordinary this week, anyway, and nothing that would have me beheaded...
Even if I'm discovered, there's always the 'condition' card to play. Makes the sodding pigs all the more sympathetic.
In seconds, she was up on her feet, wand out, prepared to hex. This place wasn't safe. She headed out.