10 Aug 2018, 08:04
Families
Next Threads: A Few Specific Items, Anxiously Waiting
This was it. This was the final straw. Ford fought to keep tears from his eyes as he clenched a piece of fine parchment in a pale white fist. It was a fine stationary-custom made and so smooth that it did not even give off the satisfying crunch that would normally come with the force he applied to it. The young student hated this damned paper. Even before reading the words scrawled across it in perfect calligraphy, he had known it would contain nothing good. This was his father's special stationary after all. Yet it was not the parchment that has turned his complexion ashen with rage. That was something that could rarely be done. He was not an emotional child by any stretch of the imagination, but this... No more. The young wizard thought. I'm not doing this any more.
The contents of the letter had been too much even for the generally level-headed Ford. It had started in the usual way: "From the Desk of Maximus Farquad" followed by a string on inane titles that would have made the British monarchy turn green with envy. The recipient had rolled his eyes at this as he always did, expecting to be reprimanded once more for his average grades and told again what a failure he was and how if he didn't clean up his act he would disgrace the family name, followed by some drivel about how proud he should be to be going to Hogwarts and attending Ravenclaw and how proud their family would be of him if he would just work a little bit harder. If Ford knew a single thing about psychology, he could easily have identified his father's words as emotionally abusive. Unfortunately he knew nothing of the subject. Today's letter though was far different, enough to give even the oblivious eleven-year-old a rebellious glint in his eye. He may not have know the name for the trail that was being heaped onto him, but he knew he would tolerated it no longer. The vile parchment read:
Hatred welled up inside of him like poison flowing into the fangs of a snake. He was through with his father. As for this school... he hated this place as well, more than he had in the month since he had first been forced to attend. These stone corridors were a prison to him. No, it was worse. He'd read the books in the library, heard his fellow students sneer at each other over blood status. All this school did was turn children into adult wizards... horrible, magic-obsessed adult wizards. Wizards like his father. Well Ford wasn't about to let that happen. Teacher, parent, whatever. He was never going to let another adult dictate his life to him. Never again.
This was it. This was the final straw. Ford fought to keep tears from his eyes as he clenched a piece of fine parchment in a pale white fist. It was a fine stationary-custom made and so smooth that it did not even give off the satisfying crunch that would normally come with the force he applied to it. The young student hated this damned paper. Even before reading the words scrawled across it in perfect calligraphy, he had known it would contain nothing good. This was his father's special stationary after all. Yet it was not the parchment that has turned his complexion ashen with rage. That was something that could rarely be done. He was not an emotional child by any stretch of the imagination, but this... No more. The young wizard thought. I'm not doing this any more.
The contents of the letter had been too much even for the generally level-headed Ford. It had started in the usual way: "From the Desk of Maximus Farquad" followed by a string on inane titles that would have made the British monarchy turn green with envy. The recipient had rolled his eyes at this as he always did, expecting to be reprimanded once more for his average grades and told again what a failure he was and how if he didn't clean up his act he would disgrace the family name, followed by some drivel about how proud he should be to be going to Hogwarts and attending Ravenclaw and how proud their family would be of him if he would just work a little bit harder. If Ford knew a single thing about psychology, he could easily have identified his father's words as emotionally abusive. Unfortunately he knew nothing of the subject. Today's letter though was far different, enough to give even the oblivious eleven-year-old a rebellious glint in his eye. He may not have know the name for the trail that was being heaped onto him, but he knew he would tolerated it no longer. The vile parchment read:
His signature was followed by the same string of bravado-driven names but Ford had stopped reading long before that point. His father had put him through many punishments in the past.He had been grounded without food, forced to do tedious chores, and told time and again what a worthless failure he was going to be if he continued down his current path. But this... this was unforgivable. Ford knew very well that there was only one "Muggle artifact" in his room back at the manor. His prized possession, the only thing that had brought him any semblance of joy in that place- his computer. Father had destroyed it. And for what? To impress some pure-blooded dinner guest?Dearest Ford,
I would say that I hope all is going well at school, but I know very well that it is not. I have seen your grades and am unhappy with the rate at which you are progressing. However, that is not the purpose of my writing to you today. I have heard rumors recently that some of the students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have taken an interest in Muggle devices to the extent that a few have been seen trying to sneak them onto school grounds. While I have no evidence that you are one of these students, the fact remains that you are just the sort of child who would do such a thing. Frankly I find it unnerving that such an esteemed academic organization would allow such rumors to spread. I do very much hope that you are not in any way involved. Just last week a very important pure-blooded woman asked me in earnest about my son's interests, and I was so embarassed that I was forced to lie to such an honorable guest. Of course if you are not it is only right that I, as your father, protect you from such undesirable things. As such I have destroyed all of the Muggle artifacts in your room. I expect that this will serve as an excellent learning experience. Hopefully you will not find need of them anyway as your time at Hogwarts will have taught you the benefits of doing things the wizard way.
Yours Truely,
Maximus Farquad
Hatred welled up inside of him like poison flowing into the fangs of a snake. He was through with his father. As for this school... he hated this place as well, more than he had in the month since he had first been forced to attend. These stone corridors were a prison to him. No, it was worse. He'd read the books in the library, heard his fellow students sneer at each other over blood status. All this school did was turn children into adult wizards... horrible, magic-obsessed adult wizards. Wizards like his father. Well Ford wasn't about to let that happen. Teacher, parent, whatever. He was never going to let another adult dictate his life to him. Never again.
Last edited by Ford Farquad on 10 Aug 2018, 08:55, edited 1 time in total.
stm 1 | agl 4 | str 1 | ctrl 10 | arcp 7 | acc 7
10 Aug 2018, 08:54
Families
Annabelle might have noticed that furious boy in the opposite corner of the Owlry, had it not been for her own piece of paper. This one looked nothing at all like the one he held. In fact it was far different from most of the papers that seemed to be flying around the office. Nearly all of them were written on some form of parchment, dropped by the feathered messengers in the form of neatly (or sloppily) written scrolls. But Anna's paper was just that- paper. A plain white eight-by-eleven sheet with a few typed paragraphs followed by a familiar signature. This note could only have come from one place- the Muggle world.
All of Annabelle's letters came like this. All typed and void of the wizardy character she had come to love. Anna herself had taken to writing all off her letter with quill and parchment (okay they were required to and the school didn't have computers, but she was fine with it.) She loved the smell of the old paper and the flow of the ink under her pen, even if it did tend to leave her fingers black as she had not yet gotten the hang of writing without getting the ink all over her hands. But there was a special place in her heart for these Muggle letters. After all, the only Muggles who knew where she was and were allowed to write to her were her family. They wrote her almost weekly, usually sending along chocolate bars or vitamins or pictures of the family doing some fun activity with "Wish you were here!" scrawled across the back of them. Today though, there was only a single crumpled letter.
The young Prefect had been excited when the owl first came in. She always felt this way when she received mail, and the sight of the Muggle paper had only brightened her spirits. Anna always found joy in hearing from her family. She hadn't been homesick at all for some reason, but she supposed if she were she would have every reason to be. The twelve-year-old Annabelle had been shocked by the sheer amount of tragedy her fellow classmates had experienced. Some had even called her naive and overly-optimistic, but it wasn't her fault she had yet to see evil in the world. She had met kids who were orphans, students who strived to meet unrealistic expectations set upon them by their parents, and even a few whose pasts were shrouded in mystery. Annabelle had no such angsty backstory.
Her family was one of those weird-in-a-good-way sort of groups. The Prefect had grown up a middle child, perpetually "boy-trapped" between two male siblings. She had never minded this, of course. In fact, she had spent most of her elementary years absolutely determined to be one of the boys. Her mother and father were not exactly rich, even by Muggle standards. They lived in a shabby old house with barely enough rooms for everyone, but managed to put food on the table every day and still have some money left over to take the kids out sometimes. The happy lot certainly never thought of themselves as poor. And they were happy... so happy that sometimes Anna thought she was the luckiest kid in the whole entire world. Sure she had fought with her brothers sometimes as siblings tend to do, but her memories of home never failed to make her smile. The letters from them never had either, until today.
Right now she was definitely not smiling. In fact, her face was pale and creased with worry. Her lips were pulled tight, large brown eyes filling with salt-water. It was not the usual happy message. This one only served to overwhelm the young girl with anxiety. It contained an awful message, one tat had her so caught up that she did not even notice the boy cursing his family across from her.
Anna tried to shove her feelings aside and come up with a plan of action. If she went on a weekend, she wouldn't miss any classes. She'd still have to make sure she got her weekend studying in, but that could be crammed into the days before. Of course students couldn't leave the school even on weekends without permission- especially someone as young as her. She was only a second year... "What am I gonna do?" she thought aloud, as she often did when she was truly distressed. "Will they even let me go home?"
All of Annabelle's letters came like this. All typed and void of the wizardy character she had come to love. Anna herself had taken to writing all off her letter with quill and parchment (okay they were required to and the school didn't have computers, but she was fine with it.) She loved the smell of the old paper and the flow of the ink under her pen, even if it did tend to leave her fingers black as she had not yet gotten the hang of writing without getting the ink all over her hands. But there was a special place in her heart for these Muggle letters. After all, the only Muggles who knew where she was and were allowed to write to her were her family. They wrote her almost weekly, usually sending along chocolate bars or vitamins or pictures of the family doing some fun activity with "Wish you were here!" scrawled across the back of them. Today though, there was only a single crumpled letter.
The young Prefect had been excited when the owl first came in. She always felt this way when she received mail, and the sight of the Muggle paper had only brightened her spirits. Anna always found joy in hearing from her family. She hadn't been homesick at all for some reason, but she supposed if she were she would have every reason to be. The twelve-year-old Annabelle had been shocked by the sheer amount of tragedy her fellow classmates had experienced. Some had even called her naive and overly-optimistic, but it wasn't her fault she had yet to see evil in the world. She had met kids who were orphans, students who strived to meet unrealistic expectations set upon them by their parents, and even a few whose pasts were shrouded in mystery. Annabelle had no such angsty backstory.
Her family was one of those weird-in-a-good-way sort of groups. The Prefect had grown up a middle child, perpetually "boy-trapped" between two male siblings. She had never minded this, of course. In fact, she had spent most of her elementary years absolutely determined to be one of the boys. Her mother and father were not exactly rich, even by Muggle standards. They lived in a shabby old house with barely enough rooms for everyone, but managed to put food on the table every day and still have some money left over to take the kids out sometimes. The happy lot certainly never thought of themselves as poor. And they were happy... so happy that sometimes Anna thought she was the luckiest kid in the whole entire world. Sure she had fought with her brothers sometimes as siblings tend to do, but her memories of home never failed to make her smile. The letters from them never had either, until today.
Right now she was definitely not smiling. In fact, her face was pale and creased with worry. Her lips were pulled tight, large brown eyes filling with salt-water. It was not the usual happy message. This one only served to overwhelm the young girl with anxiety. It contained an awful message, one tat had her so caught up that she did not even notice the boy cursing his family across from her.
It seemed odd at first that her mother would sign a note like this with her full signature. She usually just wrote "Love, Mom." But Annabelle realized with a sinking stomache that she must have done this so that it would prove that the letter really was from her. She must expect Anna to show it to the Headmaster when asking to leave school... Leave school? Annabelle could hardly fathom it. She had responsibilities both as a student and as a Prefect. Yet this was her little brother.Dear Annabelle,
Hi darling! We hope everything is going well at school! Your father and I hate to bother you since we know how much you love Hogwarts, but we have some bad news. Your little brother is very sick. We don't know exactly what s wrong with him, but he is staying in the hospital until the doctors can figure it out. We're sure that he'll get better (that's what medicine is for, right?) but he has been asking to see you all week. I hope it isn't too much trouble, but can you ask your Headmaster to let you come home for a couple of days? It would really cheer him up to see his big sister! Thank you so much in advance, honey. We love you!
Annika R. Wolfe
Anna tried to shove her feelings aside and come up with a plan of action. If she went on a weekend, she wouldn't miss any classes. She'd still have to make sure she got her weekend studying in, but that could be crammed into the days before. Of course students couldn't leave the school even on weekends without permission- especially someone as young as her. She was only a second year... "What am I gonna do?" she thought aloud, as she often did when she was truly distressed. "Will they even let me go home?"
PM me if you wanna RP! We can also discuss things over Discord if that's easier ^_^
10 Aug 2018, 16:28
Families
"Will they even let me go home?"
The words stood out like a red exclamation mark against a white backdrop. Ford suddenly relaxed his grip and turned to look at the female on the other side of the room. She seemed entirely absorbed in her own thoughts, lines of worry crossing over her face. Yet as he stared he held no concern for whatever was going on in her mind. Humans were so fragile that it could be anything. Even he had just allowed his own self to be clouded by intense emotion for a moment- he who prided himself on putting logic and planning ahead of such matters. Even as he considered this though, the anger within him boiled quietly. The distraction from his own thoughts had done nothing to weaken his resolve. He was still not going to put up with this place, and by "this place" he meant the Wizarding World, any longer than he had to. Yet the girl's words did do something to change his attitude. Instead of pure, directionless anger his mind began to channel that energy into forming a plan.
Ford recognized her in the vaguest sense that one could recognize a person: the "I'm pretty sure I've seen her around and heard a few people talk about her" sort of way. Despite her unauthoritative composure, the silver badge at her lapel told him that she was a Prefect. Ah yes... the Gryffindor Prefect- one of the youngest and most inexperienced at only twelve years of age. She was known for asking a lot of questions and spending a lot of time with some club that she ran. He didn't know her name, but that mattered little at the moment. All that mattered was a few rumors he had heard circling around campus.
They made her a Prefect! A Muggle-born, can you believe it?
Can you believe what this place has come to? A second-year Prefect, and a Mudblood no less?
He remembered the whispers clearly enough. That girl- whatever her name was- was a Muggle-born. She came from outside the world of magic, which meant that "home" for her was somewhere far from this wretched place. What was it she had been saying... would they let her go home? Perhaps the girl was homesick. Yet the look on her face and her reputation told quite a different story. From what he knew she was not the strictest of Prefects or the most rule- driven of students. There was even a rumor that she had been to detention once... yet she had always been known as one who tried hard. Too hard, in fact. Some of the second-years in his house complained that she was always asking (and answering) all of the questions in class, coming off as a bit of a show-off. More importantly he recognized that look in her eye.
He'd seen the girl wandering the halls and as much as it pained him to remember specific faces, the one that came to mind when he pictured this girl was one he had seen all-too-often. It was that look of awestruck wonder at everything magical. Surely this girl was a brainwashed as the rest of them. Being Muggle-born he supposed that was understandable. They were always the first to fall under the proverbial "spell" of the wizard world. So fascinated with all that it had to offer, every opportunity to make life easier without putting in much real effort. This girl was no different.
That being established, she must have had an excellent reason to even consider returning to the land of Muggles so soon. Why, they were not even a month into the school year. She seemed concerned with whether or not she would be allowed to leave, but for a Prefect to even consider such a thing there must be a foolproof excuse. A death in the family perhaps? Whatever the case, Ford was far more interested in the "how" than the "why." He did not have the means to fabricate an excuse for himself anyway.
Cogs began to turn as his head spun with ideas. A small, devilish smile appeared across the boy's face. The mindless anger slowly began to turn into a plan. It was a crazy plan- not nearly as logical as he would have liked any plan of his to be... but it was a plan nonetheless. Assuming she got approval, this brown-haired student would be getting on a train fairly soon. That train would be heading to London: the gateway to the Muggle world. He grinned over at her, though he doubted she noticed him. He was not one to smile at people, at least not for real, but this was different. He was genuinely grateful to this girl after all. She may not know it yet, but she was going to be his ticket out of here.
Ford exits the Owlery.
The words stood out like a red exclamation mark against a white backdrop. Ford suddenly relaxed his grip and turned to look at the female on the other side of the room. She seemed entirely absorbed in her own thoughts, lines of worry crossing over her face. Yet as he stared he held no concern for whatever was going on in her mind. Humans were so fragile that it could be anything. Even he had just allowed his own self to be clouded by intense emotion for a moment- he who prided himself on putting logic and planning ahead of such matters. Even as he considered this though, the anger within him boiled quietly. The distraction from his own thoughts had done nothing to weaken his resolve. He was still not going to put up with this place, and by "this place" he meant the Wizarding World, any longer than he had to. Yet the girl's words did do something to change his attitude. Instead of pure, directionless anger his mind began to channel that energy into forming a plan.
Ford recognized her in the vaguest sense that one could recognize a person: the "I'm pretty sure I've seen her around and heard a few people talk about her" sort of way. Despite her unauthoritative composure, the silver badge at her lapel told him that she was a Prefect. Ah yes... the Gryffindor Prefect- one of the youngest and most inexperienced at only twelve years of age. She was known for asking a lot of questions and spending a lot of time with some club that she ran. He didn't know her name, but that mattered little at the moment. All that mattered was a few rumors he had heard circling around campus.
They made her a Prefect! A Muggle-born, can you believe it?
Can you believe what this place has come to? A second-year Prefect, and a Mudblood no less?
He remembered the whispers clearly enough. That girl- whatever her name was- was a Muggle-born. She came from outside the world of magic, which meant that "home" for her was somewhere far from this wretched place. What was it she had been saying... would they let her go home? Perhaps the girl was homesick. Yet the look on her face and her reputation told quite a different story. From what he knew she was not the strictest of Prefects or the most rule- driven of students. There was even a rumor that she had been to detention once... yet she had always been known as one who tried hard. Too hard, in fact. Some of the second-years in his house complained that she was always asking (and answering) all of the questions in class, coming off as a bit of a show-off. More importantly he recognized that look in her eye.
He'd seen the girl wandering the halls and as much as it pained him to remember specific faces, the one that came to mind when he pictured this girl was one he had seen all-too-often. It was that look of awestruck wonder at everything magical. Surely this girl was a brainwashed as the rest of them. Being Muggle-born he supposed that was understandable. They were always the first to fall under the proverbial "spell" of the wizard world. So fascinated with all that it had to offer, every opportunity to make life easier without putting in much real effort. This girl was no different.
That being established, she must have had an excellent reason to even consider returning to the land of Muggles so soon. Why, they were not even a month into the school year. She seemed concerned with whether or not she would be allowed to leave, but for a Prefect to even consider such a thing there must be a foolproof excuse. A death in the family perhaps? Whatever the case, Ford was far more interested in the "how" than the "why." He did not have the means to fabricate an excuse for himself anyway.
Cogs began to turn as his head spun with ideas. A small, devilish smile appeared across the boy's face. The mindless anger slowly began to turn into a plan. It was a crazy plan- not nearly as logical as he would have liked any plan of his to be... but it was a plan nonetheless. Assuming she got approval, this brown-haired student would be getting on a train fairly soon. That train would be heading to London: the gateway to the Muggle world. He grinned over at her, though he doubted she noticed him. He was not one to smile at people, at least not for real, but this was different. He was genuinely grateful to this girl after all. She may not know it yet, but she was going to be his ticket out of here.
Ford exits the Owlery.
stm 1 | agl 4 | str 1 | ctrl 10 | arcp 7 | acc 7
10 Aug 2018, 18:01
Families
Annabelle barely registered the sound of the door shutting behind her. Her head was still reeling, thoughts spinning about in a jumbled mess. Her mother had said that Kendall would be alright with medicine, but... what if she was just saying that? Annabelle loved her parents deeply, but they were just the sort of people who would sugar-coat the situation to keep their little girl from worrying to much. That fact alone meant she was pretty much guaranteed to worry too much anyway.
It did seem a bit strange though that the littlest Wolfe would be asking for Annabelle specifically. Out of the three siblings, Anna and Kendall fought the most frequently. They were the closest in age and often wrestled over food, toys and various hand-me-downs from their eldest brother Jax. Eve as she had left on the train to Hogwarts, the child had been yelling playful insults after her, Of course they did love each other, he just had a strange way of showing it. Anna couldn't help but be anxious as she remembered that day. Her brother had seemed so normal and healthy, so full of life. She couldn't even imagine what horrible disease could take down such an energetic little person.
Then her head perked up, hope returning to her pale face. Surely it was nothing so bad that magic couldn't cure it! Annabelle had been to the hospital wing herself and had taken a vile-tasting potion that repaired a shattered limb in a matter of hours. There must be all sorts of wonderful spells and potions for people in need. The teachers had mentioned once that Muggles were not to know about or see magic... something about them suddenly wanting magical solutions to all of their problems. Annabelle thought that was really very selfish of the Wizards. Perhaps some of them wanted to keep to themselves and that was all well and good, but there were people out there who'd had amputations when a Skele-Grow potion would have fixed them right up. There were people who had died when a simple mending charm might have stopped the blood loss. She vehemently disagreed with keeping such miracles from the rest of the world, but those were convictions for another day. Right now she was worried about Kendall.
Surely there were exceptions for families of Muggle-born wizards and witches, right? There had to be! Her family already knew what she was so they had to know about magic. A wizard hospital wouldn't turn away the family of a Hogwarts student, would they? She found herself wishing that Kendall was here, as opposed to some Muggle hospital where who-knows-what was being done for him. If only he had the gift of magic like she had... then he could go to the hospital wing and Annabelle wouldn't have to risk missing classes.
The girl shook her head, brown locks falling in her face. This was no time to be thinking about classes. She needed to help her brother, and to do so she needed to get to him. Anna looked down at her mother's note, wondering if it would be enough for the Headmaster to let her return home for a weekend. She hoped and prayed that he would... there was no way she could focus on her studies if she were forced to remain here anyway. In fact, knowing how long it took for an owl to travel all the way across the country, Kendall could already be... No, she wouldn't think about that now. There was no sense in assuming the worst. Annabelle got up from her seat, breathing slowly in and out. She'd need to be in control of herself when she approached the headmaster.
It did seem a bit strange though that the littlest Wolfe would be asking for Annabelle specifically. Out of the three siblings, Anna and Kendall fought the most frequently. They were the closest in age and often wrestled over food, toys and various hand-me-downs from their eldest brother Jax. Eve as she had left on the train to Hogwarts, the child had been yelling playful insults after her, Of course they did love each other, he just had a strange way of showing it. Anna couldn't help but be anxious as she remembered that day. Her brother had seemed so normal and healthy, so full of life. She couldn't even imagine what horrible disease could take down such an energetic little person.
Then her head perked up, hope returning to her pale face. Surely it was nothing so bad that magic couldn't cure it! Annabelle had been to the hospital wing herself and had taken a vile-tasting potion that repaired a shattered limb in a matter of hours. There must be all sorts of wonderful spells and potions for people in need. The teachers had mentioned once that Muggles were not to know about or see magic... something about them suddenly wanting magical solutions to all of their problems. Annabelle thought that was really very selfish of the Wizards. Perhaps some of them wanted to keep to themselves and that was all well and good, but there were people out there who'd had amputations when a Skele-Grow potion would have fixed them right up. There were people who had died when a simple mending charm might have stopped the blood loss. She vehemently disagreed with keeping such miracles from the rest of the world, but those were convictions for another day. Right now she was worried about Kendall.
Surely there were exceptions for families of Muggle-born wizards and witches, right? There had to be! Her family already knew what she was so they had to know about magic. A wizard hospital wouldn't turn away the family of a Hogwarts student, would they? She found herself wishing that Kendall was here, as opposed to some Muggle hospital where who-knows-what was being done for him. If only he had the gift of magic like she had... then he could go to the hospital wing and Annabelle wouldn't have to risk missing classes.
The girl shook her head, brown locks falling in her face. This was no time to be thinking about classes. She needed to help her brother, and to do so she needed to get to him. Anna looked down at her mother's note, wondering if it would be enough for the Headmaster to let her return home for a weekend. She hoped and prayed that he would... there was no way she could focus on her studies if she were forced to remain here anyway. In fact, knowing how long it took for an owl to travel all the way across the country, Kendall could already be... No, she wouldn't think about that now. There was no sense in assuming the worst. Annabelle got up from her seat, breathing slowly in and out. She'd need to be in control of herself when she approached the headmaster.
Annabelle Wolfe leaves the Owlry
PM me if you wanna RP! We can also discuss things over Discord if that's easier ^_^