Hogwarts, A Future

Sixteen Years After the War has Ended, Two Wizarding Schools Exist. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Salem Academy
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 Morgan Rosier

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Morgan Rosier

Posts : 58
Join date : 2013-05-19

PostSubject: Morgan Rosier   Mon May 20, 2013 12:54 pm

Full Name: Morgan Reese Rosier
Birthdate: March 14th, 1996
Age: (if an adult)
Country of Origin: England
Current Home: London, England.
General appearance: Light brown hair, pale skin, brown eyes.
Special Features: Long scars up her arms, legs, and a thin one on her throat.
Blood purity: Halfblood
Sexual alignment: Unsure.

Personality: Even at a very young age, Morgan Rosier was a complete genius, and she knew it. Fortunately – sort of – she is also very, very, very modest about it – to the point of her completely under exaggerating each and every one of her successes. She’s also unbelievably shy and nice. Due to some things that have unfortunately happened to her, she found herself deathly afraid of all humans.

Background: Morgan was shy. Morgan was sweet. Morgan was bullied as a child. As arrogant and big-headed as it sounds, being the cleverest in class was definitely not easy. She had no one who called her a ‘friend’, just people who called her when they needed their work done. Also, this sweet girl was called names through most of her childhood. She had hope when she was moved up a class, her thoughts on the matter were, “maybe they won’t call me names…”

She was wrong. It turned out that the older people picked on her because she was so little. They tended to physically hurt her whenever she wouldn't do their homework, and subtly make her time in school hell, so they can “control her behaviour”. Needless to say, she was not put in a school with good students.

And then she turned eleven; the magical year of going to Hogwarts. Her people problems disappeared – er, at least physically. You see, Morgan Rosier was absolutely terrified of every single human being in the school. Although she had quite avoided most socialising, she still always seemed to know what was happening around her. So of course, she knew everything about the who-kissed-who, who-did-what gossips.

Her eldest brother was dead. He died to protect his family, to protect her. It had all began in the ever-dramatic unusually stormy night of July 17th, 2009. As she was told, Morgan’s grandparents were former death-eaters who strongly disapproved of Conroy’s choice in women. More specifically, taste in women’s blood purity. Mrs. Rosier had sent some of her old companions to cause doom, death and chaos in the muggle-friendly Rosier household. On the night they appeared, they had not come fully prepared to meet the three powerful Rosier children.

At some point, Morgan found herself held in a tight grip, with a goblin-made dagger pressed against her throat. Scars and bruises had lined her features, completing the whole I-just-found-an-evil-madman look. And then her brother saved her. Sean Rosier. The boy – man – unexpectedly jumped over the madman and tore the knife away from him. In the process, her throat had been partially cut – bad enough to be stitched and hospitalised – and the knife had flown directly into Sean’s torso. Nothing could save him.
Morgan grew more detached to the world.

Family: Mother: Name: Adrienne Rosier (nee Kremer) / Age: 37/ Living or dead: living/ Blood status or species: Muggle-born
Father: Name: Conroy Rosier / Age: 40/ Living or dead: living/ Blood status or species: pure-blood
Brother: Name: Sean Rosier/ Age: 16/ Living or dead: dead/ Blood status or species: half-blood
Brother: Name: Aaron Rosier/ Age: 14/ Living or dead: alive/ Blood status or species: half-blood

Family Background: Morgan's family is quite open minded in everything, especially her father. His parents were death eaters, yet he never believed in any of the crap they said. Instead, he took what was commonly known as the “Sirius Black approach” among pure-bloods, and did muggle studies at Hogwarts, befriended muggles and muggle-borns, and even ended up marrying a muggle-born, a French one. His rebellious attitude was hushed up by his parents, to keep themselves from getting into trouble with Lord Voldemort.

In a tour around the world, Adrienne met Conroy, and as cliché as it sounds, he immediately fell for her. It was unrequited at first, but Conroy was a stubborn man, and she eventually found herself hopelessly in love with him. Even now, fifteen years later, they were still in their ‘honeymoon phase’, as it is known as.

Last edited by Morgan Rosier on Tue Aug 13, 2013 4:11 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Morgan Rosier   Mon May 20, 2013 12:59 pm

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Morgan Rosier

Posts : 58
Join date : 2013-05-19

PostSubject: Re: Morgan Rosier   Fri Sep 20, 2013 6:48 pm

July 17th, 2010.

July 17th.

It was exactly nineteen-to-midnight when Morgan decided that it was the worst day of her life. And she knew that this fact will never, ever change. Unless someone else dies.

Sean Rosier, sixteen, was killed by a pack of people with a severe superiority complex. As it happened, any sane man would see that all he was trying to do was save his sister's life. To him, his own death didn't even matter. But Merlin, it mattered to her.

They always say that choosing favourites is wrong, and that people shouldn't do it; but Morgan would always secretly tell you that it had been Sean. Always Sean. He was the one who always protected her from the bullies when he was able to. He was the one who still gave her piggyback rides, even at thirteen. He was the one she knew she would always count on, she knew he'll be there for her at all times.

Don't get her wrong though, she did love her other brother, Aaron, too. But Sean... he was different. Their relationship was more than just a 'brother-sister' bond. Despite the age difference, it seemed like they shared the same heart and soul on more than one occasion. Sean always loved her. Always trusted her. He asked her for girl advice, he got his girlfriends approved by her... Yes, their love for each other really was no secret to anyone.

And now he was gone.

For the first few weeks, Morgan had gone into an extreme state of depression, barely moving, barely speaking, barely anything. A large part of her died with her brother, and her whole family knew. She took it hardest, and her best friend - the only man she would ever completely trust - was gone. Her only rock had disappeared, so she curled in on herself. It took her over a month to finally talk to anyone - and it was only her immediate family that she spoke to.

And then she was taken to a therapist. She was given medication for her behaviour. Slowly, the family worked its way back to a certain level of normalcy - of course, it wasn't even close to how it was before. But they were coping.

And now, a full year passed since his passing, and Morgan found herself cross-legged, sitting on the ground opposite where Sean was buried.

"I miss you," she said in a voice she was not known for. Not a single stutter smothered her voice. She never stuttered when she was with her family. "I really do, Sean. And... and I know I've said it. Things'll never be the same without you..."

She glared at the flowers she carefully laid by his gravestone. A cluster of white carnations and a single white tulip. "When I die, you'll get me flowers, right? I'm quite fond of carnations, to be honest," Sean once told her. "I'll never let you die, silly!" She remembered replying with a giggle, her face blissfully innocent. White tulips symbolised forgiveness. It was her own way of showing that finally, she was able to forgive the man who died saving her.

"I made a friend this year," she said, still directly speaking to the grave. "His name's Joe, and... and he's helping me heal. He doesn't even know you exist - not because I'm not proud of you, but because it hurts too much. But he's... he's my best friend, and I love him. He makes me feel wonderful whenever he's around." Her voice cracked, and a tear traced down her cheek silently.

"I – I… I’m sorry,” she choked out, her throat clogging up, and her face flushing with pain. “I’m so, so sorry I killed you. If – if I could take it back, trust me, I will.” A soft sob racked through her body, her mind plaguing her with images of her brother in a bloody heap on the ground.

The tears went on, a mass of wetness coating her face thickly. Only after ten minutes of weeping, she finally calmed down. “We – um, we met in the library… We were both reading the same book actually,” she smiled slightly, through the occasional tear breaking through her calm. “Pride and Prejudice, actually. Remember? You were going to start reading it to me! You were – you were going to read me Pride and Prejudice…

“Remember how you used to read me things? Always… Before you – you – you left, I never went a day without you reading out loud for me. We used to love doing that… and now… now you can’t,” She broke off, furiously wiping at her cheeks. “And I can’t either. Because it – it reminds me of you. Reading reminds me of you. Breakfast reminds me of you – you always loved breakfast. Dimples remind me of you - how can I forget your face? Flowers remind me of you; you always – you always got me flowers for my birthday.”

And then she was choking on her own tears, struggling to swallow the lump in her throat. The dirt on the ground met her shoulders suddenly, but she didn’t notice. There was no one around to see Morgan Rosier break down in front of her eldest brother’s grave. The ground was wet, and the only things heard from the cemetery were the muffled cries of the little girl. Everything inside her seemed to be breaking, and the spellotape that used to hold everything together was ripped out and thrown away. Cold enveloped what remained of her, sending violent shivers down her spine; but she took no notice of this. She didn’t care. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.

And her tears wouldn’t stop. It was almost like he was screaming at her, even mocking her lack of will and courage. She was weak. Undeserving. As if he stood over her, telling her how everything was her fault… it was her fault he died. Everyone knew it. Her family knew it, even if they never said it. The people in the neighbourhood knew it. “Sorry’s not enough,” she croaked brokenly.

Sorry wasn’t enough. Not to her, not to her parents, not to her brothers, not even to herself. She begged, pleaded, even cried for forgiveness, but she couldn’t even forgive herself. All my fault… There was so much they could have done, so much they would have done… But it was gone. All gone. No more Sean. No more Happy Morgan. No more reading out loud. No more piggy-back rides. No more board games. No more swings. No more flowers on birthdays. No more girlfriend approvals.

No more Sean.

And it was all her fault.

Warm arms engulfed her, and she leaned into the warmth. The boy’s arms were nearly familiar. They were nearly Sean’s arms. She was nearly hugging Sean. But she was a Ravenclaw; it wasn’t possible. It was Aaron – her other brother. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she mumbled repetitively, shaking. “Aaron – Aaron, you won’t leave me, will you? You… you’ll never leave me, right?”

His response was to hug her tightly to his chest. “I’ll never leave you, Morgan,” he whispered, kissing her forehead and stroking her hair softly. “I’ll protect you. I’ll protect you just like Sean did. We all love you, it’s-” he swallowed the lump forming in his throat, “-it’s not your fault. Sean… Sean knew what he was doing, okay? He knew that he might have died saving you. And… and he loved you enough to help you.”

Aaron was talking to her, trying to calm her down, just like Sean used to do whenever she came back from Muggle School. Aaron was trying to fix her, trying to make her happy again, just like Sean…. “You’re going to do the same,” she mumbled, “You – you’re going to leave me, just like – just like Sean did. Just like… just like Sean did. You’ll do that, I know you will.” She nodded absentmindedly. “I can’t do that to you, I can’t… I can’t lose you too…”

And then the numbness came.

Without a thought, she stumbled out of her brother’s arms, running as fast as she could. Running away from everything and everyone, because for once, she wanted to be alone with her thoughts.

Do you see how much I need you right now?

When you’re gone,
The pieces of my heart are missing you,
When you’re gone,
The face I came to know is missing too,
When you’re gone,
The words I need to hear to always get me through the day,
And make it okay,
I miss you.

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Morgan Rosier

Posts : 58
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PostSubject: Re: Morgan Rosier   Sat Feb 01, 2014 3:22 pm

A melancholy feeling pressed against Morgan’s heart when she found herself staring at her own gravestone. Her legs were crossed, floating a foot in the air. She was cold and weary by this point, but the feeling of sadness swelled in her chest, unable to go away. Everything around her shimmered into silence, and there was nothing but the stone, glaring at her translucent figure. She stared back, doing nothing. Confusion filled her, because she did not understand how she could have been dead. The last moments she could only vaguely remember – a searing hot pain, a flash of green light, and then nothing at all.

Darkness came afterwards. An abyss, you could say. It was an infinite endlessness of absolutely nothing. She was stuck, unable to go forward, unable to go back. There were no days in the abyss, no hours, no weeks.  There were no thoughts running through her head; not the thoughts of the constant pain, not the thoughts of her family, or the thoughts of Joe Astrid. Nothing, no one. Everything was just so… blank. It was tiring. She did not belong here.

There came a point when finally, it was different.

A hint of thought fluttered in the depths of her mind. Joe Astrid, her Hufflepuff. She couldn’t… leave him. Her eyes snapped open, and the only sound she could hear was her own, screaming his name into the darkness. And then there was a bright flash of light, leading her through a doorway. Desperation beat her logic and she ran, stumbling over her feet as she tried to move into the doorway, before it closed and disappeared forever. When she finally reached the bright door, she heard a whisper, so low it could have been her imagination.

“You're not ready to leave.”

And then… she was at her gravestone, trying to comprehend what had happened, battling the misery she felt at the prospect of her death. Something – someone – flicked through her consciousness, and she stood up quickly, gliding her way home.


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