#thread: responsibilities

@remus-whoisleft

      The envelope came with the usual morning post and was dropped atop James’ plate of sausage and eggs. He was in a rush after sleeping in that morning, and wasted no time opening it before running off to Transfiguration. It rode in his pocket for a full day of classes and quick snog with Lily in one of the stairwells overlooking the lake, and it wasn’t until he was back in an empty dormitory to change out of his robes that he found it again. 

      At first glance, James had no idea what it was -- but his dark eyes found the return address quickly, and discontent burgeoned swiftly in his chest. The Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There was only one reason he’d be receiving a letter from them, James knew, unless they’d somehow found out about one of the less legal uses of magic he’d learned, which he doubted. He’d submitted a first round application for the Auror Training Program at the start of the year, nothing more than his marks from school and a personal essay detailing why he wanted to join the illustrious program. The directions explained that those who made it to the second round of selections would receive another letter with further instructions. 

    James sucked in a breath and opened the envelope slowly, rolling out the parchment to read. Dear Mr. Potter, it began, in innocuous, calligraphic print. Congratulations! You have been selected ... 

     Without reading any further, James dropped the letter and enclosed application on the top of his trunk and walked away from it, sighing. He’d forgotten about the second stage of the selection process after deciding that he was no longer pursuing a career as an Auror, at least not until after his parents no longer needed him to look after them, and wished now that he hadn’t wasted so much time writing a brilliant personal essay. Perhaps then he wouldn’t have been chosen, and wouldn’t be standing in the middle of the dormitory questioning a decision that had been made for weeks now. 

     “Quit acting like a bloody girl, Potter,” he chastised himself under his breath, flopping back on the expanse of his mattress and staring up at the ceiling of the tower with a grumble. It was stupid, selfish, to be so discontent with the fact that he wouldn’t be attending the Auror Program in the fall; James had been the one to make that decision. No one else. It hadn’t been stolen from him. He’d read between the lines of his mother’s letters. He’d realized that his parents deserved a son who was willing to give back everything they’d given him over the years, and he refused to be anything less. Not when James wanted whatever time he could get with Fleamont. Not when Euphemia was running herself ragged trying to take care of her ailing husband all on her own. It was selfish to be upset about giving up on one of his goals -- it wasn’t like he needed the money, after all. There were others who would kill to be in that position, and he knew it. And there would be other chances, other career opportunities, after his parents no longer needed him. 

       Firmly focused on that decision, James retrieved his wand from where it had gotten lost in the folds of his blanket and sat up, glaring at the envelope at the foot of the bed. And before he could overthink it, he waved his wand, wanting it done and over with. “Incendio!” 

       The envelope burst into orange flames, and James watched through narrowed eyes, his expression uncharacteristically somber, as one potential future burned to ash in front of him. 

@indiffred

If there was one thing that Dawn was sure about, it was that she didn't particularly like big cities and sprawling metropolises. Touring in them or passing by for a gym badge was completely harmless, enjoyable even, but living in one for an entire month was too much for her. She missed the quiet thrumming energy of the wild and the soothing peacefulness that surrounded countryside towns. And Saffron City was about as far as you could get from that.

The champion conference this year ended approximately two weeks ago, and Dawn was grateful that she didn’t have to listen to more talks on villainous teams, Pokemon preservation and varying regional crisis. She felt bad for falling asleep in special workshops arranged to discuss cultural clashes between regions, felt terrible for snoring in keynote speaker sessions about the new breakthroughs in Pokemon evolution. Every day demanded not only high alertness, but also amiability and patience when negotiations were arranged left and right. Paperwork waited for her anxiously in her hotel room, and reporters plagued her from the conference building to her room. So when it was all over, she accepted an invitation from a new friend she made over the course of the week to spend some down time in Saffron City--without having done any prior research. She probably should have consulted the Sinnoh League on this decision, but what’s done was done and she knew well that Lucian could take care of her work, temporarily. It wasn’t particularly...Dawn of her to run away from responsibilities like that, but champion conferences were known to break even the most strong-willed people. This made her feel slightly better.

Since this was her third week in the city, she knew most of the places well by now. The important ones, at least. She decided that she would take a stroll by the construction site she took a passing glance at on the day of her arrival. What new addition could this city possibly have wanted?

When she arrived at the building site, two things caught her attention immediately. One, was the waving banner that said “BERLITZ HOTEL CORP.” in silver block letters. Two, was a very, very pale man wandering into the zone clearly marked “out-of-bounds” with yellow tape and red signs. And that man was not wearing a helmet, a working vest, and chances were that he was not a construction site worker. 

“Mister!” she yelled. Better safe than sorry. “Mister, you’re wandering into out of bounds area!”

She wasn’t sure whether she jinxed it with her concern and a passing thought of the worst case scenario, but at that moment a sandbag was flung over the ledge on the third floor. Fuck, it was going to hit the man on the head if she didn’t do anything--

“Empoleon, use aqua jet to push the sandbag away!” 

silverhairedstrategist

Oh, good, the battle plans were here. Alright, so she was there, Lucina was there, and her father was off over there all...by...him...self.

On the flanks. In the most dangerous part of the battlefield. With nothing but a bunch of militia for protection.

Maybe Lucina was right - gods she hated it when that happened. Maybe Robin really was trying to get him killed.