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|Wizarding Realm > Library > Double Helix|
|Posted by: Morgan Mulloy Nov 8 2017, 11:31 PM|
| Morgan was beginning to wonder if he was suffering from rage blackouts. What other reason could there be for this sudden correspondence with a girl he barely knew? Surely he had hurt her somehow, in some way, he just couldn’t recall the specifics of it. Or perhaps he had hurt someone close to her. It was the only justification he could muster up at the time… the only explanation as to why she had sought him out, asked to speak to him in private- away from prying eyes of their housemates.
Of one thing Morgan was certain: his life would never be the same after this meeting. Either he would discover he was indeed suffering from blackouts, or he would spend the rest of his life apologising for somehow ruining her life. After all, it was only a matter of time until his anger spiralled out of control and he ended up truly hurting someone. It was a fear that he lived with every day of his life, constantly niggling beneath the surface- hidden away beneath the same anger that he so feared. He’s always told himself that his behaviour was hereditary, that he was destined to follow in the footsteps of his father. But it wasn’t necessarily the truth. It was a mask he had built up over time, one that he used to distance himself from the reality of his situation. Without it he felt naked. Some days he barely recognised his own reflection. The anger distorted every fibre of his being- from his personality to his appearance. The anxiety and rage were slowly eating away at him: at his weight, his self control. He could no longer stomach food or truth. He could barely even stomach his own existence some days.
This wasn’t necessarily to say that Morgan hated himself… far from it really. He simply spent more time thinking about his existence and family that he would ever care to admit. It was something he kept close to his chest, out of sight from even his closest friends. The memories and worries played constantly on his mind, and kept him up at night. They were things that he was too fearful to share, even with Guinevere; although undoubtedly, sharing them would’ve lessened the grip they currently held over him.
God, he didn’t want to end up like his father.
He didn’t want to awake one day to find that his anger had consumed him completely. He didn’t want to hurt people… but undoubtedly he did, and would continue to do. It wasn’t in his nature. Morgan had always tried his hardest to be a sympathetic ear, a companion. But somedays his anger simply got the better of him… and he was unable to see past the red flashes of rage. It blurred his vision, and often led to him making less than rational decisions. No longer did he feel like himself… but a mere shell of his former being. One that was so consumed by anger that he could barely function like a normal human being.
Morgan was smart enough to know that he was not entirely defined by his DNA. He had met so many people at Hogwarts that had managed to distance themselves from their families and bloodlines. So it was possible to break away, he knew. He simply didn’t know how. The odds were stacked against him… for it was not only his father’s DNA he was fighting. His mother was no class act either. The combination of the two personalities was explosive. It was hard to believe the two of them had ever truly been happy together. Although he knew, in his heart of hearts, that they had been once. He could still remember the good times.
Turning the letter over in his hands, Morgan waited patiently for Iris to arrive. Although he knew he was probably blowing this entire situation out of proportion… he couldn’t quite settle his nerves. Until he knew the true reason behind her writing him, his mind would continue to play these tricks.
Tag: @Iris Queshire
|Posted by: Iris Queshire Nov 9 2017, 08:49 PM|
| It wasn't long into Iris' sixth year when she realized that something was very wrong. Ginger wasn't there, and as far as she could tell-- wasn't going to be there. Hogwarts would continue to be a lonely place with no family, and no friends. It didn't make sense though! Sure, there were squibs, and muggleborns, but there weren't a whole lot of muggleborns with muggle siblings. So how was it that she and Ginger were living in different worlds? A couple of days into the semester, Iris had sent a letter to her parents. It had been so long since she had chosen to communicate with the couple that had chosen to abandon her in a dangerous world in order to salvage the innocence of their second daughter. All the while, they were slowly eating away at the soul of their eldest.
"Am I adopted?" her letter had asked the final question in so many more words. Angry words that had skipped across the page in slightly smeared ink as the Ravenclaw did her best not to leave visible tear drops on the parchment. The anxiety had been tangible for weeks and now finally the girl had her answer. "No." Oh but there was so much more than no. As it turned out, her mother had known for a while now why Iris was a witch, and Ginger was not. She had simply chosen to hide the truth to preserve her sham of a marriage. Iris yearned to tell her father-- to expose the deception and cowardice in her mother's actions. In the end though--how could she? Ginger still needed a home; still needed a family...and Iris couldn't take that from her precious little sister.
Upon receiving the newspaper clipping (apparently Iris' mother had been keeping tabs on the wizarding world, despite refusing communication with her daughter), Iris' world had turned upside down. In magically moving black and white stood a man--a criminal and her mother had circled it with a red marker and written "This is your real father." There was an emotional letter to follow, explaining her mother's weakness just before her marriage, and how the wizard in the photo didn't even know that Iris existed. Of course said letter ended with the usual reasoning on why Iris should simply leave "our family" alone-- not "your" family, our family-- as if Iris weren't a part of it.
Things got worse as Iris researched the man that her mother claimed to be the witch's father. The newspapers made the man out to be a murderer. Great... so Iris wasn't just an illegitimate child who had been thrown out of her own family for her mother's mistakes-- but she was the daughter of a murderer. That was bound to look fantastic on her application to the aurors. Still, it could all be a lie. These days it felt as if her parents would come up with any reason they could to keep her away from Ginger. Digging deeper, Iris found that the man had a son...that was going to school with her now...and was in her house...in her year. Hadn't she seen something once that "blood calls to blood"? There was potion or something that could help her...she just knew it.
A few more days of niggling panic devouring her every moment and Iris found what she was looking for. All that was left was to call upon her potential half brother. The letter was hurried and sloppily written.
We need to talk...Privately. Meet me in the back of the libraries--row 26C-- opposite the windows. Tonight, after lights-out."
With the bottle of her prepared potion in hand, and two tiny silver needles sitting wrapped in her pocket, Iris arrived after Morgan. She looked around, making sure that nobody else was around before she sat down in front of him and set the potion between them. Her eyes were intense, and she had obviously been crying but there were no more tears for this. There would only be truth...and to get that she needed Morgan. Her throat was tight though, and she could barely get out her next few words before shoving the letter from her mother across to the boy.
"I just got this from my mother..."
|Posted by: Morgan Mulloy Dec 2 2017, 11:53 PM|
| His breath caught in his throat- a mixture of stale cigarette smoke and the previous night’s dinner, lamb shanks and roast vegetables. Morgan honestly thought he’d moved beyond this… that he was finally free of his fathers indiscretions. He’d wrongly presumed that the man’s passing signified the beginning of his new life, that he might finally be free of all his wrongdoings and misfortunes. But as was always the case where Archibald Mulloy was concerned, nothing was ever as simple as it seemed. Even from beyond the grave, he still seemed intent on destroying his youngest’s life. That is, if he even was the youngest. He wasn’t so sure anymore. Morgan didn’t know the first thing about the girl sat before him, for all he knew, she could’ve been a few months younger than himself. Though the two of them had shared a common room for the majority of their young lives, he’d never taken the time to really get to know her. They were essentially strangers to one another. Strangers that apparently shared a bloodline.
Although Morgan’s relationship with his father had been rocky (at best)- he’d always found comfort in the knowing that before his imprisonment he’d tried. Tried to be the father his son so admired. Tried to be the husband his wife depended on for comfort. No matter how deluded his father’s reasoning might’ve been, Morgan had always assumed that his intentions had been pure. That he’d done what was best for his family- his wife. For, the boy had always known that beneath all his fathers anger and hatred… he was more than capable of love - true love. After all, he’d found it with his mother. Or at least, so Morgan had always been lead to believe.
Everything Morgan had once known, or believed to be true, had suddenly been turned on its head. In the past, he’d always been able to reason with himself- argue that his father had killed those children out of desperation. That he had been influenced by money. Money that he would then use to feed his family… keep his wife happy, keep a roof over his children's head.
It was all a fucking lie.
His father was no martyr. He was a murder. Deep down, the boy had always known this to be true… but this damned letter proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt. He’d never loved his mother. He’d never loved them. Why else would he do something so fucking disgusting?
Furrowing his brow, Morgan turned the parchment over in his hand. Although he’d never really particularly talkative or social, far from it really, he’d never been lost for words. At least not until now. Try though he might to muster up an explanation or words of comfort, his lips remained tightly pressed together, eyes darting between the letter and girl sitting before him. “I don’t know what to say.” he finally blurted out… aware that his words were perhaps the farthest thing from sympathetic or comforting. As difficult as this information might’ve been to swallow, Morgan was sure that Iris must’ve been taking the news harder. After all, it was not every day you learned your father was a damned murder. It wasn’t every day your entire world was turned on its head.
Morgan had almost become accustomed to the feeling. He was better equipped to deal with the situation at hand. “I can’t say it comes as too much of a surprise. My dad wasn’t exactly [i]father of the year material”. The boy paused for a moment before correcting himself, “our dad.”
Note: Sorry this took so long, I had to take a few weeks break to hand up my final university assignments. My posting will get back to normal now <3
Tag: @Iris Queshire
|Posted by: Iris Queshire Dec 5 2017, 01:02 PM|
| Time—even just the short time that Iris had to develop her thoughts on this situation-- has a way of taking the bite out of bad news. Somewhere inside the eagle's chest, her heart was trying to seize but on the outside she stared at the boy with hollow eyes. As she watched her fellow Ravenclaw's eyes flick from side to side, scanning the letter for the information contained within. Iris could see the emotions warring within but she remained impassive, watching...waiting. Waiting for a response that would allow her to continue in her quest to find the truth. That's all she really wanted...the truth.
Finally they met eyes again as he looked up from the letter and furrowed his brow. Pain was painted across the wizard's features as his glance flickered between the information, and the subject of debate. A part of Iris wanted to say something. This boy could be her half brother. Shouldn't there be some sort of sympathy or compassion in her heart at showing a boy that his father's infidelity? It couldn't be easy to process for him either. But she felt nothing. Everything was numb and all she wanted to do was to move forward.
Then, she could see Morgan process the information and come to a resolution. It was funny to see him come to terms with it so much faster than she had done. A sick feeling rolled in her stomach. Maybe it was the difference in mothers...or in how they had lived. He had more time to know the crimes of his father. Iris' mother hadn't even had the strength to tell her about this until just now. Everything was falling apart in Iris' life, but as she looked at the Mulloy boy, Iris realized that it was simply another stone crumbling off of his life's castle.
Our dad he said... Iris grimaced. “We don't know that for sure yet...I mean the 'our dad' part.” Her eyes turned down to the potion between them as she pulled the needles out of her pocket and unrolled their wrapping. She took one between slender, shaking fingers and pushed the other across the space between them, still sitting on its cloth wrapping. “Blood calls to blood. Red with one drop. Then you add a drop of your own... if we aren't related-- nothing will happen. It will simply remain red. If we are distantly related, it will turn black. However, if as this letter suggests, we are half siblings... it will go back to it's original clear. No mistaking the signs.” Iris held up her own needle then sighed softly. “By the way...I just need to know if the letter is true. I don't want to intrude upon your family. Once the test is done, I can simply leave you—and your family-- alone if you wish. I've gotten used to not having a family. I just don't like having questions.” With that, she pressed the blood up to the top of her left index finger then pierced the skin with the sharp needle's tip. A hiss of air being sucked between her teeth was the only audible sound as she held her finger over the open potion container and let a drop of her blood fall into the clear liquid. Red blossomed through the potion and she wrapped her finger in a scrap of the cloth wrapping. Then she looked up at him...expectant. “Your turn.”
|Posted by: Morgan Mulloy Jan 9 2018, 09:12 AM|
| It was hard to play the knight in shining armour when your whole world was crumbling around you. Bit by bit, the confusion was eating away at the boys armour- leaving him naked and vulnerable. Brittle bones were visible through translucent skin, as his broken heart pumped black blood through his veins.
This blood that Iris spoke of, this blood that called to blood, was so much darker and thicker than she ever could’ve imagined. For the sake of the girl, Morgan prayed that her mother was mistaken… that she was nothing more than a stranger to him, as he’d always considered her to be. He wanted nothing more for her than to leave this place as fatherless as she’d entered it. For, Archibald Mulloy was no father. He was a monster, a murderer, a shitty human being. There were no loving, tender memories for the boy to share with Iris. There were no baby pictures to exchange or stories to tell. Anything good or pure about his childhood had died along with his father. His sister had burnt the family albums, while he and his brother had buried the past.
Honestly, Iris was better off without him. She had a better chance without him. God, what Morgan wouldn’t give to wipe the man from his memory completely. For, when you knew that someone was capable of such good, such happiness… it made it all the harder to accept when they commit an act of such pure evil. It was difficult to look himself up and down in the mirror each morning without seeing the mans soulless, shadowy eyes staring back at him - as if the man were mocking him from the grave.
God, he thought he was past all of this.
“What family?” Morgan chuckled cynically, masking the pain with humour - slapping yet another band-aid onto the gaping wound. A temporary fix to a colossal issue. “Being part of this family begs more questions than it answers… trust me.” Stealing a glance at the girl sitting across from him, Morgan couldn’t help but notice the similarities between them. She was the spitting image of their father. He didn’t need a DNA test to tell him what he already knew to be true. There was too much of a likeness for it to be a coincidence. Iris Queshire was his sister, he knew it in his heart of hearts- and her life was about to change forever. Nothing he could ever say or do would soften this blow. It was the type of drama that belonged in a Hollywood movie… not thrust upon the shoulders of a 5”4, slightly built girl. She certainly hadn’t inherited her stature from the Mulloy father, that much was for certain. Perhaps there was hope for her yet.
Wordlessly and without fuss, the boy pricked his finger with the needle Iris had laid on on the table before him; watching as his own tainted, black blood mixed in with hers. He could think of nothing else - he couldn’t look away. Heart beating in his chest, Morgan counted out the seconds until the colour leeched.
He could barely breathe.
“I - I’m sorry. I guess? What do you even say in a situation like this?”
|Posted by: Iris Queshire Jan 11 2018, 06:51 PM|
| Moments seemed to hang thick in the air...suffocating as they passed like molasses. She watched impassively as the sharp point pierced the boy's skin and the dark liquid formed a small bead on his skin. The seconds seemed like eternity upon eternity, stacked one on top of the other as her lungs begged for the air that she was holding hostage from them. The bead turned into a drop and it fell like so many expectations. At first...the liquid formed a thin red line on top of the potion and Iris didn't know whether to be hopeful that the color would change or not. No matter what happened, she would be hurt, angry, upset...
On one hand...if Morgan was her half brother, then it meant that her mother had been lying to her and to her family for Iris' whole life. However...it meant that she was free of a family that didn't want her. Who even knew if her little sister remembered the girl who had been gone so long? It was likely that none of her letters ever got to their intended recipient. It only hurt every time that she thought about her family...about her old life...about the muggle world where she used to feel safe and now that she couldn't feel any connection to. On the other hand... if Morgan wasn't her brother...then her mother was once again lying to try and push Iris out of the family. It only reinforced that her family didn't want her. Did her father know about this attempt? Was he willing to let Iris completely believe that he wasn't even her real father? That was a good question regardless of whether or not it was true...and yet... would she ever find out? It didn't really matter what color that liquid turned...she wasn't apart of the Queshire family any longer. They had finally found a way to keep her out. She only hoped that her little sister didn't suffer the same way.
The liquid sunk down into the red of her own blood and the color began to blur...then fade...turning as clear as water. A long sigh escaped from the girl's lips as she finally looked up to acknowledge all of the words that had been coming from the boy...her half brother. There was a huge part of her that wanted to cry...to let the fear and frustration of the whole situation fall from her eyes like the lies that had fallen from her mother's lips so many times. Is that where she had gotten her lying from? She hadn't even considered it until now, but everything that Iris hated about herself seemed to point back to her mother. And now... she found out that not only was her mother an adulterer and a liar...but her father was a criminal, and possibly a killer.
Her eyes remained dry, and her gaze turned hollow. She took in the image of her half brother in front of her. “There's nothing to be sorry for.” she replied with a hoarse tone. “You weren't the one who cheated on my father and decided to lie about it. You weren't the one who pushed me out of my own family. Merlin! You aren't even the one who sired the unwanted daughter of the Queshire family—you're just the child of someone who's blood thrust me into this life. I mean...we're almost the same age. I can't imagine how that feels for you either...” Iris took a deep breath through her nose, steadying herself. “I just needed to know. Thank you for helping me to know.” The witch nodded as she rolled to her feet, snatching the magical DNA test from between them. “I'll leave you alone now. You don't have to even acknowledge me. I've been living without a family for a while. The only difference now is that I know why.”