Post by MARY NEVE MACDONALD on Oct 11, 2014 10:56:21 GMT -6
[googlefont="Yanone Kaffeesatz:400"]
You were born two months before you were due. Of course you can't verify the truth of this fact as you don't remember it, but it's something your mother sometimes says. Actually, it's something your mother is almost always saying, whenever the opportunity strikes (and even when it doesn't strike). "You were such a small thing, Shorty, you know? You fit in one hand. I was so afraid I cried the whole time after you were born. But the doctors said you'd be just fine." And you were just fine. For a baby born two months earlier, you were surprisingly healthy. So much that the doctors assured your mother you would thrive.
Your mother has taken to calling you Shorty. In fact, all of your family does that, but it was your mother who started it. Even if you've reached the rather respectable height of 5'4'', the nickname still sticks. It was because you were a small baby, they explain you. But then it stuck and now people look at you funny whenever your mother calls you that in public. Yes, because she has no problems in calling you that in public. And in front of your friends. And before you know it, your friends have taken to call you that as well. It's a nickname you can't shake off, it seems, no matter what your actual height is. At any rate, it's better than Mary-Mac.
Your parents' worries were soon proven to be in vain, as you revealed yourself to be a source of trouble for the couple. Quick to walk and talk, you didn't really stop. Your baby eyes were attentive to everything, and if left alone, the first thing you'd do was to try and explore on your own (after complaining loudly for being left alone, of course). Yes, from an early age you had a penchant for getting yourself into trouble, whether willingly or not. You don't really think you had a penchant for getting into trouble, you just had a bit of a... problem doing what you were told.
As a child, you were always eager to explore, to learn more about the world around you. You always tagged along with your brother, no matter what he was doing, no matter how many times he told you not to. It was impossible to make you stay still when there was so much more to be learned outside. Of course your mother told you not to run in your new clothes. Of course your mother told you not to try and climb any trees. Of course your mother told you to stop bringing strays home. And of course you only payed half the attention you were supposed to pay to these warnings. That landed you with way too many scoldings, way too many scrapes and bruises, and way too many pets.
magic.
Your family proved to be a special one. Now, Gerard and Isla would claim they were as normal as it came. Simple folk, living a simple life, with three children, an army of dogs and cats and a few other animals in a home that might be a bit too small to house them all but that was still a home. They had jobs, paid their bills, they were as normal and average as they get. You and your brother, however, weren't. Both of you were magical, apparently. And both of you got to go to a special school just because of that.
Of course this was a gradual process, neither you nor your brother didn't woke up one day claiming you were witches and wizards (though there were days you did that, but just for fun). It came to each one of you when you turned eleven. For your older brother was in the form of a stern looking lady with glasses, carrying a letter and sitting down at your dining room table, sipping tea and explaining what Hogwarts was. For you, however, there was only a letter, but that didn't make it any less special.
Before this, before that one moment that would forever change your life, there were other things. Small things, that would go by unnoticed by all but a child. Small things that would seem like coincidences to everyone else. Plants wilting when you grew angry ("that's funny, it seemed so lively yesterday"), clothes changing colors because you were sick of them and your friend Tessa had the cutest purple skirt ("i could have sworn this skirt was blue"). Things that grown ups tend to miss, but that kids cling to.
You were six when your older brother went to Hogwarts, and you all but grew hearing the stories about the magical castle, and what happened in it. You couldn't wait for the day you'd get your letter and be allowed to go to, even if it wasn't certain that you'd have magic in you. And then, you turned eleven and a letter came.
home.
Hogwarts was... magical. It's a terrible pun, you know it, but back then, there was no better what to put it. And in fact, it is a magical school, so pun or no pun, it would be an accurate description. The train ride was spent in both anticipation and utter fear at what would be expecting you when the train finally stopped. Of course your brother had told you much and more about the castle. So much that you felt like you knew it already. And that was just it, you were eager to see if it was anything like you had thought it'd be at all. And it was. All that and then some.
You were expecting a lot of things, but a talking hat was certainly not one of them. Your brother had told you you'd get sorted when you got in, but they'd never told you how it happened. They had told you that the four houses were like your extended family, and that'd you'd most likely make lots of friends within your house, because they were people like you. Though you had to admit it, he was quite charming for a hat. And when he shouted Gryffindor and one of the tables erupted with cheers, you knew that you had found your place.
At Hogwarts you thrived, both academically and socially. Well, it would be incorrect to call you the best of your class, or a genius, but you were, without a doubt, the most hardworking one, and the most willing to learn new things. It was probably a side effect of not being raised around magic, like so many others had been. There was much and more to learn, and not nearly enough time.
Friends, of course, came easy. They always did. After all, you had never been the shy type. A social butterfly, some would call you, but the truth was, you thrived among your peers. You liked to meet others, talk to them, and just generally being around them. You liked people, and it seemed, people liked you back.
pain.
You didn't even know Mulciber that well. Actually, you didn't know him at all, you just knew of him. He was just one of those guys who had a reputation. For being one of the craziest blood purists ever. You knew all that was said about him, but you didn't know him (and quite frankly, you were glad you didn't).
That day you met him by complete accident. And he seemed quite happy to see you. He always seemed happy when he met new victims, or so you had been told. You thought nothing of it, you just tried to get past him and be on your way. And he wasn't having any of that. One thing led to another, and you may or may not have called him a few choice names. And lesson number one is to never piss off the deranged psychopath. But then again, you were never one to do what you were told. Mulciber raised his wand...
And after that things get a bit hazy. You remember it hurt, that much you do. It was a searing hot pain cursing through every fiber of your being, making you fall to the ground and gasp for air, try to scream, do... anything. Anything at all to get you out of there, to end it. Until, of course, your body gave up and you thought you had died. When you opened your eyes again, it was with a jolt and someone telling you to lay back down. You were in the infirmary, though you didn't know how you had gotten there. Your body hurt all over and you were soon given a potion for that, drifting back into sleep again.
You spent a week in the hospital wing and afterwards nothing was the same. The whole school seemed to know. That was what made it worse, to have to deal with the constant looks of pity, the ushered conversations that died once you walked past. And worse than those were the grins, the knowing looks from those who supported Mulciber and thought him a hero for what you had done.
To say that you became paranoid would be an understatement. Of course you tried to make it look like nothing was wrong, but it was easier said than done. Your usual bubbly self had been locked away, replaced by a more quiet and shy persona. One that was constantly looking over her shoulder and with problems trusting everyone. For a while, you though you were going to loose your mind. And for a while, you almost did.
Most of the people you considered your friends drifted apart from you. After all, no one wants to deal with a crazy girl. Only a handful of them stuck around. The ones who really mattered, you told yourself. The ones who were really worth your while. Those were the only ones you trusted, the only ones you let in. Everything else was shut out. And you hid.
fight.
Joining the Order saved you. It gave you a purpose, a reason to fight, and with that, that broken thing that had been your mind was put back together. Piece by piece, slowly, you were back to being you. You were fighting for what you believed in after all. You were doing the right thing. Your life regains a semblance of happiness, as weird as it might sound.
Of course that you didn't revert back to the old you. No, that was nearly impossible, that Mary had been buried so deep inside you that you don't think she'll ever come out again. Most of your bubbliness is gone, having been replaced with sarcasm. Your learnt how to keep people at arms length. Friendly, but not too much, no one gets close to you without you wanting it. It's the best course of action as it keeps everyone from getting hurt.
It could be said that it's revenge that moves you. The girl who fell victim of dark magic and blood purists now wants to make those same people pay. But it isn't. Well, at least you don't think it is. You just don't want anyone else to feel like you did back then. Helpless. Lost. Hurt. You don't want anyone else to be victimized, and this is the best way you have to help.
After all, you were never one to go down without a fight.[/PTab={background-color:#444; font-size:9px;padding:5px;color:#fff;tab-hover-background-color:#000;tab-selected-background-color:#000;}][/PTabbedContent={width:400px;color:#fff; font-size:9px;animation:fade;tab-hover-background-color:#000;tab-selected-background-color:#000;tab-background-color:#000;}]
MARY N. MACDONALD
ISA || GMT || PM
[PTabbedContent][PTab=I]18
ORDER
MUGGLEBORN
GRYFFINDOR
HEALER IN TRAINING
ZOEY DEUTCH
[/PTab={background-color:#444444; font-size:9px;padding:5px;tab-hover-background-color:#000;tab-selected-background-color:#000;}height:82px;][PTab=II]▼
shorty.You were born two months before you were due. Of course you can't verify the truth of this fact as you don't remember it, but it's something your mother sometimes says. Actually, it's something your mother is almost always saying, whenever the opportunity strikes (and even when it doesn't strike). "You were such a small thing, Shorty, you know? You fit in one hand. I was so afraid I cried the whole time after you were born. But the doctors said you'd be just fine." And you were just fine. For a baby born two months earlier, you were surprisingly healthy. So much that the doctors assured your mother you would thrive.
Your mother has taken to calling you Shorty. In fact, all of your family does that, but it was your mother who started it. Even if you've reached the rather respectable height of 5'4'', the nickname still sticks. It was because you were a small baby, they explain you. But then it stuck and now people look at you funny whenever your mother calls you that in public. Yes, because she has no problems in calling you that in public. And in front of your friends. And before you know it, your friends have taken to call you that as well. It's a nickname you can't shake off, it seems, no matter what your actual height is. At any rate, it's better than Mary-Mac.
Your parents' worries were soon proven to be in vain, as you revealed yourself to be a source of trouble for the couple. Quick to walk and talk, you didn't really stop. Your baby eyes were attentive to everything, and if left alone, the first thing you'd do was to try and explore on your own (after complaining loudly for being left alone, of course). Yes, from an early age you had a penchant for getting yourself into trouble, whether willingly or not. You don't really think you had a penchant for getting into trouble, you just had a bit of a... problem doing what you were told.
As a child, you were always eager to explore, to learn more about the world around you. You always tagged along with your brother, no matter what he was doing, no matter how many times he told you not to. It was impossible to make you stay still when there was so much more to be learned outside. Of course your mother told you not to run in your new clothes. Of course your mother told you not to try and climb any trees. Of course your mother told you to stop bringing strays home. And of course you only payed half the attention you were supposed to pay to these warnings. That landed you with way too many scoldings, way too many scrapes and bruises, and way too many pets.
magic.
Your family proved to be a special one. Now, Gerard and Isla would claim they were as normal as it came. Simple folk, living a simple life, with three children, an army of dogs and cats and a few other animals in a home that might be a bit too small to house them all but that was still a home. They had jobs, paid their bills, they were as normal and average as they get. You and your brother, however, weren't. Both of you were magical, apparently. And both of you got to go to a special school just because of that.
Of course this was a gradual process, neither you nor your brother didn't woke up one day claiming you were witches and wizards (though there were days you did that, but just for fun). It came to each one of you when you turned eleven. For your older brother was in the form of a stern looking lady with glasses, carrying a letter and sitting down at your dining room table, sipping tea and explaining what Hogwarts was. For you, however, there was only a letter, but that didn't make it any less special.
Before this, before that one moment that would forever change your life, there were other things. Small things, that would go by unnoticed by all but a child. Small things that would seem like coincidences to everyone else. Plants wilting when you grew angry ("that's funny, it seemed so lively yesterday"), clothes changing colors because you were sick of them and your friend Tessa had the cutest purple skirt ("i could have sworn this skirt was blue"). Things that grown ups tend to miss, but that kids cling to.
You were six when your older brother went to Hogwarts, and you all but grew hearing the stories about the magical castle, and what happened in it. You couldn't wait for the day you'd get your letter and be allowed to go to, even if it wasn't certain that you'd have magic in you. And then, you turned eleven and a letter came.
home.
Hogwarts was... magical. It's a terrible pun, you know it, but back then, there was no better what to put it. And in fact, it is a magical school, so pun or no pun, it would be an accurate description. The train ride was spent in both anticipation and utter fear at what would be expecting you when the train finally stopped. Of course your brother had told you much and more about the castle. So much that you felt like you knew it already. And that was just it, you were eager to see if it was anything like you had thought it'd be at all. And it was. All that and then some.
You were expecting a lot of things, but a talking hat was certainly not one of them. Your brother had told you you'd get sorted when you got in, but they'd never told you how it happened. They had told you that the four houses were like your extended family, and that'd you'd most likely make lots of friends within your house, because they were people like you. Though you had to admit it, he was quite charming for a hat. And when he shouted Gryffindor and one of the tables erupted with cheers, you knew that you had found your place.
At Hogwarts you thrived, both academically and socially. Well, it would be incorrect to call you the best of your class, or a genius, but you were, without a doubt, the most hardworking one, and the most willing to learn new things. It was probably a side effect of not being raised around magic, like so many others had been. There was much and more to learn, and not nearly enough time.
Friends, of course, came easy. They always did. After all, you had never been the shy type. A social butterfly, some would call you, but the truth was, you thrived among your peers. You liked to meet others, talk to them, and just generally being around them. You liked people, and it seemed, people liked you back.
pain.
You didn't even know Mulciber that well. Actually, you didn't know him at all, you just knew of him. He was just one of those guys who had a reputation. For being one of the craziest blood purists ever. You knew all that was said about him, but you didn't know him (and quite frankly, you were glad you didn't).
That day you met him by complete accident. And he seemed quite happy to see you. He always seemed happy when he met new victims, or so you had been told. You thought nothing of it, you just tried to get past him and be on your way. And he wasn't having any of that. One thing led to another, and you may or may not have called him a few choice names. And lesson number one is to never piss off the deranged psychopath. But then again, you were never one to do what you were told. Mulciber raised his wand...
And after that things get a bit hazy. You remember it hurt, that much you do. It was a searing hot pain cursing through every fiber of your being, making you fall to the ground and gasp for air, try to scream, do... anything. Anything at all to get you out of there, to end it. Until, of course, your body gave up and you thought you had died. When you opened your eyes again, it was with a jolt and someone telling you to lay back down. You were in the infirmary, though you didn't know how you had gotten there. Your body hurt all over and you were soon given a potion for that, drifting back into sleep again.
You spent a week in the hospital wing and afterwards nothing was the same. The whole school seemed to know. That was what made it worse, to have to deal with the constant looks of pity, the ushered conversations that died once you walked past. And worse than those were the grins, the knowing looks from those who supported Mulciber and thought him a hero for what you had done.
To say that you became paranoid would be an understatement. Of course you tried to make it look like nothing was wrong, but it was easier said than done. Your usual bubbly self had been locked away, replaced by a more quiet and shy persona. One that was constantly looking over her shoulder and with problems trusting everyone. For a while, you though you were going to loose your mind. And for a while, you almost did.
Most of the people you considered your friends drifted apart from you. After all, no one wants to deal with a crazy girl. Only a handful of them stuck around. The ones who really mattered, you told yourself. The ones who were really worth your while. Those were the only ones you trusted, the only ones you let in. Everything else was shut out. And you hid.
fight.
Joining the Order saved you. It gave you a purpose, a reason to fight, and with that, that broken thing that had been your mind was put back together. Piece by piece, slowly, you were back to being you. You were fighting for what you believed in after all. You were doing the right thing. Your life regains a semblance of happiness, as weird as it might sound.
Of course that you didn't revert back to the old you. No, that was nearly impossible, that Mary had been buried so deep inside you that you don't think she'll ever come out again. Most of your bubbliness is gone, having been replaced with sarcasm. Your learnt how to keep people at arms length. Friendly, but not too much, no one gets close to you without you wanting it. It's the best course of action as it keeps everyone from getting hurt.
It could be said that it's revenge that moves you. The girl who fell victim of dark magic and blood purists now wants to make those same people pay. But it isn't. Well, at least you don't think it is. You just don't want anyone else to feel like you did back then. Helpless. Lost. Hurt. You don't want anyone else to be victimized, and this is the best way you have to help.
After all, you were never one to go down without a fight.
