her mind thrummed, a barrage of constant noise as the halls of st. mungo’s became inundated with patients in the aftermath of the summer solstice ball and its bloody battle that’d followed. she’d hardly stopped. healers pulled from each and every wing to attend to whomever they could, all hands on deck they’d said. with her hands & head full, celia could scarcely find time to think of her loved ones... of how they were, where they had ended up. it’s only as she’s passing from one patient to the next that she discovers gideon in the hallway, her soft green eyes alight at the sight of a familiar face. ❛ gid! ❜ celia exclaims, rushing towards the redheaded twin and wrapping her arms about him in spite of her worse for wear condition — simply eager to feel he was with her in this moment, that he was safe, ❛ aren’t you a sight for sore eyes... ❜ thankful gaze shifts downward in addition to her words, checking frantically as she had all evening for wounds and the like. anyone who’d done damage to either prewett twin would surely pay the price, ❛ you’re not hurt though, are you? i’d love nothing more than to tend to you, gid but we have very quickly run out of beds and i haven’t a clue when we’d be able to see to you. ❜
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sometimes you just don’t know the answer ‘til someone’s on their knees and asks you, “she would’ve made such a 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚 bride, what a shame she’s 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 in the head,” they said but you’ll find the real thing instead. she’ll patch up your tapestry that i 𝒔𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒅.
Being captain of the auror squad was honestly a dream. It’s exactly what Alastor was born to do, despite his initial hatred to the career. It took him having to find his own path to becoming the auror his parents wanted him to be before he fell in love with the job. But he wasn’t just an auror at the end of the day, he hadn’t been for some time now. He would now find himself in a constant loop between his ministry office and the headquarters for the Order at the Fountain of Fair Fortune. It was exhausting but rather he be strained than some innocent lives taken. Not that his sacrifices where saving anyone right now – “ Well I’m sure we can both appreciate the dedication a service job requires and take consolation through the people we help. ” He knew how hard working at St. Mungo’s was at times, endless hours of shifts after shifts. He could only imagine the times Cecelia had slept overnight in the ward. He certainly no stranger to spending the night in the ministry. Alastor shifted, uncomfortable with the slightly positive news. “At least he’s stable.” he sighed. He guessed that the man was still in a coma, otherwise his auror’s would be all over him with questions and support. “I’m glad to hear that. He certainly was a friend to all and only the those with cruelty in their hearts would have been able to pull this off.” or someone with a lust for blood but he decided to not say that aloud. “So –” Alastor began with a warm smile, “are you hear with anyone tonight?” || @celiabbott
celia for one, certainly wouldn’t have survived the past year... years if it hadn’t been for her work. her circle of support too, but her life had fragmented following her mother’s murder, only further in the wake of booker’s too... and through it all was her unwavering desire to help & save lives. if alastor protected wizards against dark threats, cecelia nurtured them. their individual careers working very much in tandem with one another, ❛ absolutely. it’s what keeps me going, has kept me going... i can’t say i’d be the witch i am today without the patients i’ve tended to over the years. ❜ the healer agrees, nodding... wishing only for the chance to have saved the two lives that’d mattered to her most. benjy was still a glimmer of hope however, salvation perhaps. ❛ he’s a fighter most definitely. it was pure cowardice for those responsible for his attack to strike when he was alone, distracted and defenceless. ❜ rousing words are followed by a heavy sigh, only exacerbated further by the head auror’s inquiry that followed. she knows alastor’s just being polite, a kind-hearted man she greatly respected & admired, only her heart begins to hurt at the utterance, knowing it should have been booker by her side tonight. ❛ oh, no... no. ❜ celia rushed out in response, shaking her head fervently. she thought briefly of elezar, he had been good to her these past months but they’d both decided he ought to be here with florence instead, ❛ my best friend, marianne i suppose but uh, i can’t think of anyone after booker. not like that at least. ❜
Alastor had been informed about Cecelia and Booker’s relationship whilst investigating the death of the minister’s son. Finding out that they had some romantic connection, only for Booker to pass on with some unresolved tension between them, tugged at Alastor’s heart. He knew what it was like to lose a loved one and as much as he wanted to show his empathy, he knew that in a professional sense he needed to maintain unemotional. Seeing her trying to enjoy her night only took him back to the first couple of years after Sile’s murder. He took a deep breath to bring him back to the present and ground himself. Smiling at her politeness he knew that the response would be more muscle memory than anything else. “You’re talking to one of the biggest workaholics in this room. I completely understand what it’s like to not take time for yourself.” As he spoke the words, guilt twinged inside of him. Cecelia was out here taking a break yet Alastor was about to question her about Benjy. “How is Benjy doing? I hear his friends miss him terribly.” || @celiabbott
all hallow’s was an evening that belonged only to nightmares, claimed by them the very moment booker fell from that balcony, and she’d glimpsed his lifeless corpse floating upward in the atrium’s fountain. the copious red from his wounds tainting its water, along with any shred of innocence celia had retained following her mother’s murder. the yule ball had been hard, but tonight... with all of its pretence and importance felt even harder to stomach. she’d become accustomed to distractions and playing pretend but knowing in her heart that he ought to be there with her, muddling it through with her made it hurt in ways it didn’t tend to when nursing patients all day. it was something she knew alastor understood, loss just as familiar a concept to him as it was to her at this point. her green eyes glistening with insight, ❛ i can only begin to imagine how much work goes into being head auror, let alone the workload that must follow. ❜ she smiles again, faintly... quite aware that said workload pertained not only to her... ex-boyfriend’s murder but to benjy’s attack too. no matter how they might try to get around it, theirs were paths that continued to cross. ❛ he’s stable but remains in a coma, i’m afraid. his friends have certainly made their presence known, gifts and all sorts have been left at his bedside for when he eventually awakes. they enjoy talking to him too. he’s an incredibly well loved wizard. ❜ celia confirms, nodding in accompaniment with her tender words. she’d known such precious little about benjy before the march for equality but given how much time, as of late, that she spent around not only him but his friends & family too, she oddly felt as if she knew him.
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Where: Lauren’s Hospital Room, St. Mungo’s
Who: @celiabbott
Laurel could vagule remember people surrounding her, trying to all give their support and assistance. She honestly hated that she was so weak in that situation, she was supposed to be the brave one, the one always putting herself out there in tough situations to help out others. Though she should have supposed all that effort to protect others would have drawn a bigger target on her back. Part of her knew that whatever had happened had to have been another attack against the minorities in the wizarding community, though it couldn’t just be a creature attack as she hadn’t told that many people of her blood, but there was a small part of her that was hoping this was just some fluke accident.
Asking for her sisters to give her a minute, though a bit of shouting and reassurance that they could stay right outside her door, Laurel finally had the room to herself. Laying her head down and closing her eyes she felt completely lost. What if whatever was happening was deadly, what if she was a mistaken target and someone else was suppose to be the victim, all the what ifs played in her head as she nervously bit at her nails. The door suddenly opening had her sighing in frustration and slowing sitting up, ready to promise Maren she just needed another minute, but the words died on her lips, “Sorry. I thought you were my sister.” She apologized, noticing the uniform of a Healer. “Are you here to question me or run more tests?”
it’d happened so suddenly, just like clockwise. one minute quiet, the next an influx of noise accompanying the chaos. frenzied thoughts, not at all her own, causing her head to spin. a sensation akin to ‘deju vu’ flooding her senses as she found herself stood, shaking, over yet another lifeless body. her dread had not been misconceived. in spite of recent events, this was scarcely a specialty of celia’s but given the volume of st mungo’s staff already at the ball, she’d wasted not a moment in agreeing to accompany marianne back to the ward with laurel. the best friends worked well together, it’d be not only a comfort to marianne that she was there in support but one to her too.
allowing the pair of the blondes to settle and loved ones to arrive, celia had taken the time to change out of her gown and into her uniform before checking in on benjy, making certain he was still just as well as she’d left him mere hours earlier. his recovery was of the upmost importance to her but with his safety ensured, her focus turned next to laurel. watching as marianne and some others departed, tests in tow, celia made her entrance — ever mindful of her doctorly disposition, a faint, trying smile graces her lips though concern is sat firmly between her brows. ❛ no need to apologise, laurel... not at all. your sisters are just outside, i believe some aurors are hoping to take statements. ❜ the healer informed, blinking away any tears that threatened to stain her rosy, pink cheeks when faced with their latest victim. it was a relief all on its own to see her up and awake, others weren’t always so lucky. ❛ my colleagues are just running the previous tests now, hopefully from those results we can begin to understand what it is that’s happened to you. but my main priority is your welfare, i don’t want to overwhelm you so, please stop me whenever you need... ❜ words are soft, understanding as she takes a seat beside laurel’s bed, her intent... to use her ability to stir some memories that could aid in uncovering the best course of action. it wasn’t so often that thoughts were so helpful but after a discussion amongst staff that it certainly had not been “too much sun”, the faster they understood what they were dealing with, the better. leaning inward, careful to respect laurel’s fragile state & personal boundaries, she poses her request, ❛ i’d just like you to have a think back to before you fainted, if there’s anything you can remember... particularly that you may have ingested? food, or drink that was offered to you? ❜
Alastor found himself trying to pass the time. He had danced with one or two people throughout the night and he found that most if his friends had been tied up with their own families and such. The ball just made his heart ache for Sile and a family of his own and as the night progressed he had made the mental decision that drinking was no longer a good idea, for his own mental sake and for those around him incase anything where to go wrong. As he made his way through the crowd, trying to get to the edge of the room, he bumped into a young lady and turned round to apologise. His eyes noticed the women instantly. “Cecelia. Apologies” He greeted with a smile. “Nice to see you out and about.”
it was increasingly hard not to think of booker. a similar sense of dread to alastor’s developing at the thought that something was coming. just as it had thrice before. every clink of champagne flutes, and rustle of skirts harkened back to that night in october, thoughts she could otherwise ignore when alone with benjy’s tranquil mind. it’s in a particularly overwhelming moment that she crosses paths with the head auror, stumbling back some before swiftly straightening up, careful to mind her manners. just as her father had taught her. ❛ oh, no need to apologise, captain moody. ❜ she smiles... somewhat weakly, only wishing it felt as nice as he said it was. ❛ thank you. i suppose i’ve just been so focused on work, and on mr. fenwick that i’ve not taken too much time for myself really. ❜ and it was easier that way. the more time she spent nursing benjy back to health, the less time she spent lingering on memories of all hallow’s... and booker. ❛ i assume it’s quite the same for you? ❜
LOCATION: East India House.
FEATURING: Cecilia Abbott. @celiabbott
His jaw had become slack when he saw Gus’ attire. He wasn’t the only one. Finally scanning the room after shaking his surprise off with a laugh, the faces of those around him were a sight to behold. Stuck up purists turning their nose up at his friend, shooting dark glares his way because he had the nerve to be different. It would certainly be a night to remember. Approaching Cecilia as he tried to contain his laughter, he couldn’t help but wonder… “I take it y’ didn’t know out abou’ this?” Ted almost wished he knew beforehand, but it would’ve made his shock less substantial. At least he would’ve had pictures.
her cousin’s arrival had been a highly anticipated one, not only in celia’s own eyes but those of her father too. only... in typical augustus fashion, it was scarcely the look the abbott patriach wanted to see from a young gentleman sporting their family’s name. if the disgruntled expression he wore hadn’t given him away already, his daughter could certainly tell as much in the way his thoughts flared with motions of distress & displeasure. he wasn’t the only one. similar sentiments found in other sacred twenty eight members dotted about the ballroom... ted’s amusement quite the shining beacon amongst the disgust. smiling brightly, cecelia’s quick to shake her head, the shock something she’d found to be quite habitual when dealing with gus, ❛ no... no, i hadn’t a clue what he had up his sleeve. or... lack thereof. but he’s definitely made an impression! ❜ she proclaims, uncertain herself if it was entirely the right impression but there was no denying the sheer brilliance of the look. pictures would have been just as brilliant. ❛ he and sersh certainly look quite the pair. ❜ the healer adds, cocking her head of honeycomb curls towards the irish witch in question, dressed up as she is in her pastel pink suit. the pair evidently on a quest to subvert expectations.
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birthday: born in the early morning hours of september 27th, just as dawn was breaking, cecelia abbott falls under the zodiac sign of libra. with a libra sun, celia’s desire for fairness and justice is solidified. she possesses a generous relativism that allows her to see both sides of every situation, evidenced further in her gift as a legilimens, although her sheltered upbringing paired with recent, traumatic events have certainly forced her hand in bending to the will of one rather than the other. prompting fears that eat ever away at her when reflecting back on those final, few words with booker. haunted by just how… indecisive she must have looked to him in that moment, how insecure, when confronted by such a decision as to pick between her family, her duty and the one she loved. such as the scales that represent her zodiac, cecelia wishes for nothing more than to bring balance to her life. to find balance between what her father asks and expects of her and doing what would bring smiles to faces of those whom she’s lost and so dearly misses. embodying her sun sign further, celia’s fond of harmony, going out of her way to avoid conflict where she can, particularly when her father’s involved, possesses a gentle touch like no other healer in her ward and is a little social butterfly when she wants to be, known of course for her larger than life friend group who’ve followed her all throughout their hogwarts years and in navigating adult life since. ruled by venus too, cecelia is a lover. the abbott’s last hope, she possesses a big heart, made even more so by her desire and ability to find beauty in even the simplest things in life, even in hardship… as she has so suffered since october’s end.
wand: the morning at ollivander’s is perhaps, the first memory following her mother’s death that shimmers with the golden hues of her childhood… a young celia clings to her father’s arm, quite afraid to let go of him in fear that he may fall apart and she, in turn, will lose the only parent she has left. a nervous energy about the air, in spite of how celia had been groomed for this very moment. it’s several wands in, ten minutes or so later that her father gives ollivander a firm, indicative nod that prompts the elder wizard to pull from behind his desk an ornate wand box, bearing the abbott family crest. with extreme care but a child’s eagerness, cecelia opened up the box to uncover her mother’s wand laying amongst the satin lining. the sight alone prompts her lips to fall agape, gaze shifting upward from the beloved wand to her father’s face, able to feel the tempest of emotions that whirled on within him. wiping stray tears from her warm, rosy cheeks, she’s grips the wand as just as she had her father’s arm, its delicate, sentimental nature not lost on her. maria’s wand, passed down to her daughter, celia’s wand is of a rarer white river monster spine core, made of the highly prized aspen wood, known for its fine grain and stylish resemblance to ivory, as well as its outstanding charmwork and stands at just 10″ long with a considerably flexible nature. the smaller size suits cecelia’s petite stature well, and she was greatly appreciative of how it adapted to its new owner. the wand itself is refined and elegant, much like her mother was, with swirling patterns that celia would often find herself tracing during days at hogwarts, lost in her thoughts… or in those of others, the wand in her hand serving as a lasting reminder of her mother. something she only wishes to use for good.
amortentia: she’d been squirrelled away inside one of hogwarts’ greenhouses the first time she brewed the infamous love potion. celia usually stuck to what she knew best, sampling healing potions and going as far as to scour the library in search of new recipes to test and try out. it’s out of idle curiosity however that she assembles the ingredients for amortentia, quietly charmed by the idea that it could reveal what was most attractive in her eyes. leaning inward to the pearlescent liquid, the scent that arises from the steam is one of sweet indulgence. the aroma of freshly baked iced buns, topped with sugary, glacé cherries was one plucked straight from her youth. sat about with abigail and gus, enjoying a couple each, regardless of whether they’d been shop bought just that morning or a creation of their mother’s handiwork. it strikes celia as poignant, the memory shrouded in nostalgia as she attempts to not read too far into how dearly it might have been that she wanted her childhood back. what follows is a newer scent, warm and familiar, one she recognises instantaneously as white carnations. it hadn’t been long ago at all, fairly recently in fact, that she’d gifted booker a white carnation that she’d hand pressed herself. having read of its significance, known as a symbol of innocence, pure love and a women’s good luck gift, she’d insisted, if a little bashfully, that he take it as a token, a book mark to use during his days sat about in the library researching magical creatures and to think of her when he held it. taking in its spicy, floral scent, clove-like in its bright and vivid nature, there’s a relief that comes with smelling something of booker. confirmation perhaps, that whatever was blossoming between the two was in fact, real. the last fragrance is that of honey. homemade and organic. it’s an unmistakable scent, one she associates with her late mother alone. there had certainly been a day and age in which cecelia had thought of beekeeping as the… least cool thing her parents could have taken up in their married life however her mother, adored it. they kept a group of hives in the back garden of their cambridge home and celia, particularly in the sun-soaked summers, would sit on the lawn watching as her mother tended to them with such care, the very same tender and loving hands that tended to her. the young witch was fascinated to say the least, captivated the subtle art. even more so when maria would produce jars of fresh honey at the breakfast table the morning after. bright green eyes would grow wide, prompting smiles from the rest of the kitchen’s inhabitants. it was a constant throughout the years celia had her mother. a tradition that came to be of their little abbott family. one lost to the past, but one she hopes to revive.
boggart: celia had been told not to fear… for the worst thing that could have possibly happened to her had already happened. had already come to pass. that, perhaps, in their eyes, she was a braver soul for it. stood face to face with the shape-shifting being however, the shape it takes on is one cecelia could have well predicated. lying just a way away from her feet, is the corpse of her late mother, maria. thick, viscous, red blood spilling from a wound in her neck, shaped like the bite of a vampire. she’s still and unmoving as celia’s imagination takes hold, for she had never seen what’d truly happened to her mother. instead she’d been shielded from it, left only to wallow in the distress of her father. his thoughts becoming her own. she remains frozen in place, watching the horrifying scene unfold before her teary eyes a moment before throwing herself towards what she sees to be, her mother — wanting so desperately to hold her in her arms once more… to save her if she could. it’s then that boggart is put away, class stood in stunned silence as their classmate sobs, comforted only by the arms of her friends, wrapped around her like some protective seal. celia hasn’t come into contact with a boggart since booker’s murder, but she knows deep down, of the likelihood that his mangled corpse would materialise before her eyes if she were ever to step foot in front of one again.
patronus: soft, green eyes are alight with excitement as she holds her wand outward, waiting a moment with bated breath, to cast the illustrious patronus charm. it’s as she does so, with well-practised flourish, that the swirling, silvery light bursts free before her. swift and serene as the animal the luminescence begins to take the form of… a swallow, flying about, flitting its small wings ahead of her. much like cecelia, at her core, swallows are associated with love and happiness. as well as protection and curiously enough, summer. they’re decisive little birds, full of hope. that, in spite of their smaller size, are extremely powerful patronuses to have. graceful and charming, not unlike its holder, birds, much like celia, are greatly admired because of their ability to reach amazing heights. the world is wide, aspirations big and potential strong. if she were to open her mind and navigate a way to embrace all that holds her back, she is certain she can do great things. she strives to do them. hoping to make a change in this world in any way she can. most notably however, in the past, swallows are believed to have been the representation of the soul of someone who has died.
mirror of erised: cecelia’s reflection, is one that puzzles even her, though she knows, in her heart of hearts that it’s undisputedly correct. mirrored back at her, is essentially, the very same image of celia stood all on her own. subtle signs point to time having passed, hair longer, clothes different, skin losing its youthful, rosy glow… she can certainly say she looks more mature. truly grown up, as her father might say… but nothing holds her back anymore. she’s a woman, changed. transformed even. no longer under the thumb of anyone else, not shaped to the desires of any on person. no… what is reflected in erised’s mirror is, from what she understands, who she’ll become if she finds the balance in her life that she so desperately desires. a compromise to a life of rigidity and refinement, her father’s presence and fate of their family’s reputation looming over her with the life her mother, and booker would readily encourage. a world in which she can, and will do both. the courage finally mustered to set aside blood purist ideals that kept her from what she truly wanted in life. it’s something she ponders over constantly… spurred on by fear of what is happening around her but aware of the potential she holds. the change at hand, and in the air, if only she had the determination to embrace it.
CECELIA ABBOTT is TWENTY-SIX YEARS OLD and a HEALER in the ‘DANGEROUS’ DAI LLEWELLYN WARD: SERIOUS BITES at ST MUNGOS HOSPITAL. She looks remarkably like HALEY LU RICHARDSON and considers herself NEUTRAL. She is currently TAKEN.
→ OVERVIEW:
tw: death, blood
Benevolent yet self-preserving, Cecelia Abbott is the uncertain quiver in a wavering voice, the sweetness of peaches and drunk silence laced in a room filled with champagne problems. Born to PHILIP ABBOTT - the second born to Cecelia’s grandparents ARTHUR and EDITH -, Philip was a stern wizard who held blinding loyalty to family tradition, while MARIA WARRINGTON held a warm heart and an adoring smile. Though their marriage was initially contracted, the pair grew to love each other dearly and settled together in Cambridge. As an only child, Cecelia was cherished wholeheartedly. Spoiled under an adoring glow the Abbott’s exuberated the essence of privilege. Basking in lavish expenses and the praise that came with being members of The Sacred-Twenty Eight; she grew in an incandescent glow. Under the scrutinising gaze of her grandmother, Celia formed like fragmented light held trapped in the crystal glasses she admired; beautiful, magnetic, but confined. Comforted in the company of best friend ABIGAIL FERNSBY and cousin AUGUSTUS ABBOTT; the three were inseparable in their youth. Finding contentment when all there were were regulations; they dreamed by grand fireplaces, shared iced buns adorned in cherries and longed for a moment where they could simply be children and not just mere pieces in a Pure-Blooded game of chess. Protected under her parents guiding hand, Celia grew naive to the world around her. Encapsulated in an idealistic bubble, Celia danced in delicate daisy chains blind to the inequality that ravaged the community she held so dear.
Words like ‘mudblood’ and ‘half-breed’ hung in the air leaving her baffled and confused; especially when they had been held in her father’s voice; only she swore she never saw his lips move. As time drew on, her ears were left ringing with thoughts that were not her own. Mind screaming like a whistling kettle, Celia was left overwhelmed and drowning in the pain of others. Pure-Blooded children namely NEPHTHYS NOTT scorned her insane after Celia suggested Nephthys had a squib for a sister after overhearing conversation amongst adults. Only, they were in another room entirely. Outcast from the esteemed likes of Nott and Wilkes, Cecelia was held in contempt for even in the wizarding world hearing voices was deemed strange. Left with tear stained cheeks from the rejection of peers she so desperately longed to please, Celia weeped to her mother for the burden and sorrow she harbored was too heavy for any to bear. Soothing her daughter, Maria explained that for a descendant of her blood line it wasn’t unusual. Inheriting the rare gift of Legilimency, an art that only a mere few harbored from birth, her mother warned that for a witch as compassionate as Celia, she could grow to feel suffocated in the pain and hatred other’s beared, but to not let darkness drown out her light. While her youth was glowing golds and sunkissed, as she grew Celia would claim she only remembered happiness in tales of a hundred fleeting moments. In the gentle memory of her mother’s smile, the laughter echoing from her father’s chest and the joy that lifted them all like starlight.
Memories faded, she holds hope in lost dancing figures from crumbled photographs like whispered thoughts that fill her dreams. Pushing aside horrors as if they were simply nightmares and not her painful reality. The death of Maria Abbott struck the Abbott house like a meteorite, casting everything in darkness. Blurred in her memory with the ominous storm that rattled their grandmother’s home as if the sky itself was weeping, a romantic vacation between her parents ended in her father’s hunched figure, drenched in rain with his wife limp in his arms. Celia could feel the agony in every fibre of her body, swearing it felt like her heart was going to concave. Nothing was ever the same after that fateful day. Without her mother, her father grew cold and bitter for the loss of the only woman he’d ever loved. Controlling and determined not to lose the last piece of his wife he had left, he clung to Cecelia tightly; vowing to keep her safe no matter the cost. From then, her life became regimented. Barely able to take a shuddered breath without her father knowing, Celia bore his overprotective nature as misplaced love. Her gift enabled her to see into the mind of a broken man, with everything the pair had suffered, Cecelia played her part as to not give her father more woes than he was able to bear. While her father was ragged with worry at the idea of letting her out of his sight, under the watchful eye of family friend POMONA SPROUT, Celia was boarding the Hogwarts Express thrilled at the notion of spreading her wings outside of her fathers bounds.
Finding herself in an empty carriage, one by one fellow first years joined her sharing loud opinions of houses they’d soon join. MARIANNE MACMILLAN, BOOKER BAGNOLD, COINNEACH MCKINNON, GIDEON and FABIAN PREWETT, were all vibrant in their own ways; though they’d all be sorted into different houses they became Celia’s long standing group of confidants alongside LAURENCE GREEN. Despite his last name, with his paranoid thoughts about his false identity; Celia learned long before she was told that he was in fact an Abbott. While she wanted to greet her cousin warmly and question why they’d never met, doing so would reveal her secret talent; something that Celia wanted to harbour to herself in an effort to find normalcy. Sorted into Hufflepuff, Celia flourished with her fellow badgers as she held many of the traits commonly shared amongst the yellow house. Patient, hard-working and loyal, Celia dreamed in soft yellow’s and shined like sunbeams in dainty floral dresses, hand in hand with fellow Hufflepuff, cousin and close confidant ALYS WARRINGTON. As time passed, Celia drew closer to Booker who too dreamed of a better world. While he researched werewolves and vampires under the cover of night, Celia spent her days in the greenhouses at Hogwarts brewing healing potions; desperate to make a difference in the world just like her mother had once dreamed. Despite their differences, Celia held a romantic heart. Adamant that they were forged together in the stars, there was no part of her that doubted Booker was her Romeo and she, his Juliet.
The lingering feeling she held closely to her chest since that first day on the train showed no sign of dimming and it wasn’t long after Hogwarts that the pair started dating; affection slowly blossoming into love. Knowing that despite the odds, they’d find a way because love always prevailed. After years of stolen glances, to a hopeful girl it felt as if they were finally and simply meant to be. Though nothing was ever that easy. Booker spoke of liberation, of a world where creatures could be equal and free just as they were; but to her it was more complex. Torn in the lingering trauma of her mother’s death at the hands of a vampire, while Celia wanted to live in light and not let past turmoil make her fearful of the night; with her relatives’ views weighing her under, she was left juggling family obligation, her relationship and own beliefs. Efforts to persuade her father to see reason against his purist ways fell on deaf ears. Asking if his heart darkened by hate was what her mother would have hoped for them, only left him bitterly agitated and hopeless. When Booker approached her with his petition, Celia knew with a sunken heart she couldn’t bring a quill to parchment with her name. Arguments arose, while Celia needed time to consider her high position within the Abbott name as the only child not smeared in the scandal of Albert Abbott, Booker needed action and pleaded with her to choose her place instead of lingering in the grey. Left with sour words, little did she know she’d never hold him dear again after his murder at Halloween 1982.
Hands clutching honeycomb hair to drown out others woes, Celia is left trying to find a path through cloaked darkness, desperately searching for peace in a world that doesn’t have Booker Bagnold in it. Drifting like a mere ghost of herself, while Laurence and Marianne offer comfort, kind words and warm affection to ease her, it did little in the face of grief over last words and broken promises. While ELEZAR SMITH offered more welcomed distractions, lingering lips gave peace to her war raged heartbreak despite the pain she knew it would cause FLORENCE JONES, Celia was too numb to comprehend the consequences. Using her gift for good despite herself, Celia is trying her best to make Booker and her mother proud with her actions as a Healer. Bringing light to those with her compassion and empathy, she offers a gentle hand and freshly conjured daisies with a soft swirl of her wand; hoping to take their heart ache for her own so they didn’t have to bear loss like she had. The first healer on the scene of BENJY FENWICK’S attack, Celia has become the wizard’s primary caregiver. Caring for him in bittersweet sorrow, with lacerations to the neck, Celia confirmed the incident as a vampire attack to Auror ALASTOR MOODY. While she longed to believe that creatures weren’t the monsters they were deemed as in fairytales like Booker claimed, with every passing attack Celia can’t help heed her father’s words of caution. As attacks continue to ravage the community and with Booker’s murderer SILAS CRUMP slipping through the grasp of the ministry, she fears her father was right all along. If even Benjy and Booker weren’t safe from their grasp, then who was?
→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:
Blood Status → Pure-Blood
Pronouns → She/Her
Identification → Cis Female
Sexuality → Up To Player
Relationship Status → Single
Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Hufflepuff)
Family → Philip Abbott (father), Maria Abbott (mother), Arthur Abbott (grandfather), Edith Abbott (grandmother), Albert Abbott (uncle), Augustus Abbott (cousin), Laurence Abbott (cousin/close friend), Gilfred Abbott (cousin), Alys Warrington (cousin/close friend), Trystan Warrington (cousin)
Connections → Marianne MacMillan (best friend/room mate), Gideon Prewett (close friend), Fabian Prewett (close friend), Booker Bagnold (deceased best friend/ex-boyfriend/potential love interest), Abigail Fernsby (childhood best friend), Eve Diggory (close friend/colleague), Elezar Smith (friend/romantic liaison), Florence Jones (friend), Keira Grey (colleague), Olivia Pomfrey (colleague), Poppy Pomfrey (colleague), Nephthys Nott (adversary), Persephone Wilkes (adversary), Benjy Fenwick (patient)
