27 May 2019, 08:06
Benevolence and Bewilderment
For the one hundred and billionth time Doris wondered why, and how, her brother had left her a note in her dorm. She was more concerned about she would find in his requested meeting location than how he actually got it to her, but that was something to wonder about later.
As she walked down the hallways, fortunately not making any wrong turns along the way, she consider two things: if she owed him anything and if she did anything wrong that would affect him. So far she had managed not to really bother with her brother, it would add on to everything else she really should be focused on, like exams, upcoming deadlines, extracurricular activies, and so on. Doris was a busy girl with a busy life.
That's why she walked with a stern look on her face, she wanted it to be the first thing her brother saw as she rounded the corner so he'd know that she wanted no funny business.
Instead of seeing her brother, or anyone for the fact, Doris was welcomed by an empty hall and a crackling fire. Standing there for a moment with a puzzled look, she looked around one more time in case she missed anything, like a hunched over figure or someone so quiet and still that she had looked over them.
After confirming her first idea, Doris shrugged and swirled around. She was immediately greeted by a container holding a towering pile of items.
Staggering backwards, the person holding it flew pass her and dropped the pile on a table near the fireplace. They turned around and Doris was greeted by the pearly-white smile that always adorned her brothers face.
Marshall wore a burgundy sweater over his uniform, topped with a white and black bandana around his head. His face was red and lined with sweat, as though he had just finished doing a labor and just cooled off moments ago. Slightly out of breath, he said, “Dor.”
Her mouth widened slightly then her eyes flicked towards the pile. “Okay, what are we doing? What am I doing here, none of that's mine.”
“Hi to you to!” He gave her an ugly look, which she ignored, but it disappeared as he turned back towards his pile. Doris understand that it was a collection of random objects that looked like they belonged to people, things people probably didn't want anymore. For instance there was a pair or old shoes, a pack of cards—which she could see carried a small percentage left of the original amount—a plastic soda bottle full of soiled origami cranes, and even five lollipops, the stems intertwined together to spell out something. The words were in a foreign language, possible Baltic.
Beginning to get the gist of what might go one, Doris started to say, “I don't want to—”
“I need you to write names on these cards as I organize this pile. Now, as in today.” He didn't even glance at her, which annoyed her more.
“But I have things to do,” she groaned, staring at the pile with doubt. She wouldn't let on that she had a spark of interest though.
“I'm telling Sis about you copying Brooke's essay—”
“Okay, fine.” Doris ‘hurmphed’ and went to sit opposite of him on the couch, her back facing the the entrance to the Great Hall nearby. He gave her a pad of blank cards from his backpack and she scavenged a half-broken pencil from the pile. It was strange, the feeling of a wooden pencil rather than the structure of a quill, but she liked pencils better so she wouldn't complain.
Pencil hovering over paper, Doris hesitated before looking to her brother. “I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing exactly,” she snapped, glaring at him. She sighed and looked at the fire.
Marshall didn't speak for a while, a little too long for her taste. He was so engrossed in organizing that he couldn't be bothered with her statement. “Marshall.”
“Basically...” he began. He was slouched over, holding one cart of a train set close to his eye. It was antique and probably cost more than the old sweater he always wore, which was probably why he handled it so carefully. Doris considered now that maybe these items were valuable, and probably would be missed. “I want to get my friends to date each other, but they're cowards—and in Gryffindor no doubt, makes absolutely no sense sometimes—so,” He waved his hand around as he tried to get out his words. “I'm doing all of this, this matching to help.”
Doris grinned. “You don't even know the word because you've never had a girlfriend before—ouch!” Marshall had pinched her ear. “You know it's true, you big fart.”
“Actually, plenty of ladies have wanted my attention, little girl, but I just don't have time.” She knew that was a big lie but all she did was smile.
Still confused, she said, “Okay, sooo what am I supposed to do? Write fake love letters? I don't care about love!”
“Because nobody wants you as their girlfriend.” He successfully dodged her smack, laughing. She made a face but she didn't care. She didn't want a stinky boyfriend at all, if boys were anything like her brother.
“Not love letters. You don't have to think at all, probably don't do much of it anyway, I think. Just write what I tell you. I only want you and not Brainie Beard because your handwriting is ten times better.” Doris felt elated about the compliment but she wondered what was the actual reason why he called her instead of any of her other siblings attending Hogwarts. At the moment it was just Delta, Marshall, Brooke, and Doris but the other two were in Ravenclaw while Marshal and herself were in Gryffindor. That was probably the reason, now that she thought of it. It was easy to pay letters if you were in the House they were meant for.
Marshall went on to telling her what to write, pausing every few moments to listen for anyone coming but strangely anyone who passed through went straight to the Great Hall or the opposite exit, not giving them one glance. Some of what he told her to write was simple, though probably meant something, while some other things actually made Doris glance at his brother. She wondered if he had any close friends at the school, ones he cared deeply about. Did he like any of the girls mentioned?
Towards the time when she began running out of cards, she asked, quietly, “Who's Caitlyn?”
Marshall froze. She could almost feel the anger rise from within him but he collected himself and slowly turned it look at her. He watched her for a moment. “Caitlyn is one of those type of people who will make you change.”
It was a very strange way to answer a question but she didn't feel like pestering him anymore, the quiet was actually soothing. She finished writing and watched as he tied each card to a designated item. Doris sort of wished she knew why he did what he did, nearly even wanted a ‘present’ herself.
When he was finished, he organized the large pile into two, separating them by weight. He out the heaviest at the bottom of his pack, all the way until the lightest was at the top. She watched awkwardly, not knowing if she should stay or go.
When he was done Marshall looked down at her. “You're dismissed!” He skipped away, leaving her annoyed and bewildered; what would come of all of this?
As she walked down the hallways, fortunately not making any wrong turns along the way, she consider two things: if she owed him anything and if she did anything wrong that would affect him. So far she had managed not to really bother with her brother, it would add on to everything else she really should be focused on, like exams, upcoming deadlines, extracurricular activies, and so on. Doris was a busy girl with a busy life.
That's why she walked with a stern look on her face, she wanted it to be the first thing her brother saw as she rounded the corner so he'd know that she wanted no funny business.
Instead of seeing her brother, or anyone for the fact, Doris was welcomed by an empty hall and a crackling fire. Standing there for a moment with a puzzled look, she looked around one more time in case she missed anything, like a hunched over figure or someone so quiet and still that she had looked over them.
After confirming her first idea, Doris shrugged and swirled around. She was immediately greeted by a container holding a towering pile of items.
Staggering backwards, the person holding it flew pass her and dropped the pile on a table near the fireplace. They turned around and Doris was greeted by the pearly-white smile that always adorned her brothers face.
Marshall wore a burgundy sweater over his uniform, topped with a white and black bandana around his head. His face was red and lined with sweat, as though he had just finished doing a labor and just cooled off moments ago. Slightly out of breath, he said, “Dor.”
Her mouth widened slightly then her eyes flicked towards the pile. “Okay, what are we doing? What am I doing here, none of that's mine.”
“Hi to you to!” He gave her an ugly look, which she ignored, but it disappeared as he turned back towards his pile. Doris understand that it was a collection of random objects that looked like they belonged to people, things people probably didn't want anymore. For instance there was a pair or old shoes, a pack of cards—which she could see carried a small percentage left of the original amount—a plastic soda bottle full of soiled origami cranes, and even five lollipops, the stems intertwined together to spell out something. The words were in a foreign language, possible Baltic.
Beginning to get the gist of what might go one, Doris started to say, “I don't want to—”
“I need you to write names on these cards as I organize this pile. Now, as in today.” He didn't even glance at her, which annoyed her more.
“But I have things to do,” she groaned, staring at the pile with doubt. She wouldn't let on that she had a spark of interest though.
“I'm telling Sis about you copying Brooke's essay—”
“Okay, fine.” Doris ‘hurmphed’ and went to sit opposite of him on the couch, her back facing the the entrance to the Great Hall nearby. He gave her a pad of blank cards from his backpack and she scavenged a half-broken pencil from the pile. It was strange, the feeling of a wooden pencil rather than the structure of a quill, but she liked pencils better so she wouldn't complain.
Pencil hovering over paper, Doris hesitated before looking to her brother. “I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing exactly,” she snapped, glaring at him. She sighed and looked at the fire.
Marshall didn't speak for a while, a little too long for her taste. He was so engrossed in organizing that he couldn't be bothered with her statement. “Marshall.”
“Basically...” he began. He was slouched over, holding one cart of a train set close to his eye. It was antique and probably cost more than the old sweater he always wore, which was probably why he handled it so carefully. Doris considered now that maybe these items were valuable, and probably would be missed. “I want to get my friends to date each other, but they're cowards—and in Gryffindor no doubt, makes absolutely no sense sometimes—so,” He waved his hand around as he tried to get out his words. “I'm doing all of this, this matching to help.”
Doris grinned. “You don't even know the word because you've never had a girlfriend before—ouch!” Marshall had pinched her ear. “You know it's true, you big fart.”
“Actually, plenty of ladies have wanted my attention, little girl, but I just don't have time.” She knew that was a big lie but all she did was smile.
Still confused, she said, “Okay, sooo what am I supposed to do? Write fake love letters? I don't care about love!”
“Because nobody wants you as their girlfriend.” He successfully dodged her smack, laughing. She made a face but she didn't care. She didn't want a stinky boyfriend at all, if boys were anything like her brother.
“Not love letters. You don't have to think at all, probably don't do much of it anyway, I think. Just write what I tell you. I only want you and not Brainie Beard because your handwriting is ten times better.” Doris felt elated about the compliment but she wondered what was the actual reason why he called her instead of any of her other siblings attending Hogwarts. At the moment it was just Delta, Marshall, Brooke, and Doris but the other two were in Ravenclaw while Marshal and herself were in Gryffindor. That was probably the reason, now that she thought of it. It was easy to pay letters if you were in the House they were meant for.
Marshall went on to telling her what to write, pausing every few moments to listen for anyone coming but strangely anyone who passed through went straight to the Great Hall or the opposite exit, not giving them one glance. Some of what he told her to write was simple, though probably meant something, while some other things actually made Doris glance at his brother. She wondered if he had any close friends at the school, ones he cared deeply about. Did he like any of the girls mentioned?
Towards the time when she began running out of cards, she asked, quietly, “Who's Caitlyn?”
Marshall froze. She could almost feel the anger rise from within him but he collected himself and slowly turned it look at her. He watched her for a moment. “Caitlyn is one of those type of people who will make you change.”
It was a very strange way to answer a question but she didn't feel like pestering him anymore, the quiet was actually soothing. She finished writing and watched as he tied each card to a designated item. Doris sort of wished she knew why he did what he did, nearly even wanted a ‘present’ herself.
When he was finished, he organized the large pile into two, separating them by weight. He out the heaviest at the bottom of his pack, all the way until the lightest was at the top. She watched awkwardly, not knowing if she should stay or go.
When he was done Marshall looked down at her. “You're dismissed!” He skipped away, leaving her annoyed and bewildered; what would come of all of this?