April 27th, 1990
"You're a disgrace to the Ipswich family! Only an ignorant coward would refuse such knowledge I have bestowed upon you!" The angered shouting within the dark halls of an expansive mansion had begun to ring throughout the house.
Behind a slightly ajar chestnut door two people were in the midst of a heated argument, one of the two was an elderly man and the other, a young boy. The old man stood in a regal manner almost as if he was of royal blood, his eyes were a dark, severe grey with an expression of displeasure, as if he'd never been impressed with anything in his many years. His pale skin had been tinted grey with age and decorated with drapes of wrinkled flesh, but his evenly cropped red hair had yet to entirely bleed out of its magnificent colour and only a few streaks of grey could be found within his thick locks. A long and sharp nose allowed him to literally "look down his nose at others", and his steep height allowed him to "live" above those around him.
It was obvious that the older man was angry, his mouth was pulled into a thin line, his brow was furrowed and sadly the recipient of his said rage was none other than the little boy. The small boy looked nothing like the man before him, where the man was pale skinned with straight red hair, the boy had brown skin and dark curls upon his head. He appeared to be no older than nine, but the taller man before him made the boy look much smaller. His dark brown eyes had begun to well up with unshed tears and his round nose had flushed pink. His small hands were balled into fists and his teeth were tightly clamped on to his bottom lip.
"You call yourself an Ipswich? How dare you! At this rate Arathyn will most likely be the next heir to the Ipswich family. I never thought I would live to see the day where one of my male descendants was demoted to 'Lady of the Manor'. You're nothing but a dirty blooded bastard, I should have never allowed your mother's unclean blood into this family!" The old man sneered at the young boy who had been trying so hard not to cry out. The old man had lifted up a robed arm and pointed a menacing dark black wand at the child in contempt, but the boy could no longer keep his mouth shut.
"How dare you insult my mother!" As the little boy screamed an unseen force threw the man backwards into a dark green emerald chair. There was a loud crash and a look of surprise from the older man before two other people burst in through the door. The small boy ran into the arms of the woman and began to cry, while the man beside her ran to the man on the ground.
Based on their shared traits it was obvious the woman was the boy's mother, her brown skin was darker and her tight curls were tied together at the base of her neck. Yet, pieces of their resemblance was different, the boy's nose was narrower and the woman's ears weren't as large. The woman's expression was pained as she looked at the crying boy, "Witchr what happened?" She asked desperately.
"M-mom." Witchr sobbed.
"W-well then I f-finally got him to tap into his magic. E-even earlier than your brother, your s-son will make a fine wizard, E-Elias." The older man was finally back on his feet with some help from the younger man. The man known as Elias was just as tall as the elder man beside him, he appeared to be a gentler version of the severe man, with brown hair and sparkling hazel eyes. There were also pieces of the young boy found in Elias' features: large ears, a long nose and the same soft expression in their eyes. As the young boy continued to sob in his mother's arms the young man turned towards the older man.
"Father, Witt just turned ten. He's too young to begin learning magic, especially if you're going to use the same method that you used to teach Orion, Collin and I." The young man argued in an even, seamless tone of voice.
The old man let out a wheezing cough and shook off Elias' assistance, "Nonsense! He's at the perfect age now, I had to test him to see if he was worthy of being called an Ipswich. I, Gorlion Alkis Ipswich, as the sixth patriarch to the House of Ipswich will have no Squibs by my blood." Gorlion let out another hacking cough and straightened his long dark coffee robes.
Elias turned to look at his wife's worried face and then to their son, who still clung to her robes and cried.
"Elias." The woman pleaded.
"Father. Alita and I don't want Witchr, or Arathyn, being taught in such a harsh manner. They are too young to be drilled like this. I hope you will respect our wishes, father." Elias' smooth baritone voice was unwavering as he put an arm around his wife, and a sense of "that's final" was added to his statement.
Alita, still carrying their small boy, gave a final scolding look towards her father-in-law and left the dark room, Elias followed shortly, but not before turning to give a nod of respect to his grumbling father.
Elias had always known his father was a harsh and unrelenting man, he had been this way even when he and his brothers were younger. He'd never thought much of it, but now that he had his own children Elias knew he never he wanted them to suffer the same difficulties as he. He had made a promise to himself and Alita to never be like his father, he would raise Witchr and Arathyn without such an extreme form of discipline.
"Elias, Witchr can't keep going through this, Gorlion's even begun trying to teach Arathyn. She's only nine!" Alita whispered angrily as she gently stroked Witchr's curly head, Elias watched her turquoise wedding ring gleam in the firelight. He smiled softly to himself, this was his spitfire of a wife, the mother of his children and he couldn't help but love her even more each time he saw her.
Witchr had finally stopped crying and was able to stand on his own, he knew he was far too big to be carried around, but every time he finished a lesson with grandfather he felt like a broken toy. Witchr hated his grandfather. For all the times he'd hurt him and insulted his mother, all Witchr wanted to do was make-make him disappear! He would never allow him to talk about his mother or anyone else like that again.
When they arrived in the main foyer of the house Witchr was greeted by the smiling faces of his younger sister, Arathyn, and his grandmother, Madame Dresda. Like her husband Madame Dresda was a powerful witch, her deep hazel eyes held a soft motherly expression and yet there was an intimidating gleam beneath it. Her dark brown hair had been tied back into a messy bun, her peppered coloured hair giving her an air of wisdom. She had less wrinkles than her husband due to her ritualistic use of potions and balms despite her being at the door of her ninth decade. Like Elias she too had hazel eyes and she was easily dwarfed by her 6'4" son. Dresda's skin was an olive tone and there were some defined wrinkles around her mouth and eyes from her many expressive years, she would've been beautiful in the past.
Now, Arathyn was a very sweet girl and would most likely be a beauty in the future like her mother. She and her brother both donned brown curls upon their heads and the same shade of brown skin, but unlike Witchr, Arathyn had inherited her father's eyes as well as the Ipswich family's ambition and ability. Although Arathyn appeared to be the next protegé in the Ipswich family, Witchr was no slacker either when it came to magic even at such an early age. Only a year younger than her brother, Arathyn was already proving to be a promising young witch each day, and a devote younger sister as well.
"Witt! Witchr! Look what grandma gave me!" The small girl squealed excitedly as she waved her grandmother's wand. It was a rather slim and elegant wand, pale in colour and around 13" in length, one could say it was a wand meant for the most sophisticated of witches. As she waved the wand a small poof of sparkles spewed from the end.
"Mother should Arathyn really be waving around something that powerful?" Alita asked nervously.
The old woman simply smirked, "Nonsense dear! Arathyn is proving to be a talented witch, why just yesterday I saw her executing a spell without a wand. With talent like her's you should begin her training this very instant." Her Bulgarian accent wasn't as thick as it had been in the past, but the ghost of her native tongue could still be heard.
"Well we can't exactly send her to any institute here in the States, the Ipswich family has been indefinitely banned from all Wizarding and Witchcraft schools within the Western hemisphere. And having father or Orion teach her is out of the question." Elias stated matter of factly.
The grown-ups continued talking and the two little ones remained oblivious as they argued over who got to play with the wand next.
Eventually Witchr stopped playing, and just watched Arathyn play happily. His sad smile went unnoticed by all, he had decided a long time ago he could not remain within this household. He couldn't handle all the Ipswich family rules and expectations. Witchr wasn't a leader and no matter how hard his grandfather grilled him, he'd never be the strong patriarch of the Ipswich family. Rather than be constricted by the family values, Witchr wanted to create something separate, something that was his.
Last Christmas Uncle Gorlois came to visit, he just appeared out of the fireplace in the study, Witchr's mom told him it was through the Floo Network. Gorlois was the black sheep of the family, he was one of the only two people a part of the Ipswich family to live outside of Massachusetts. He was the fun uncle, he always brought exotic gifts and told amazing stories about his adventures. Grandfather didn't like Gorlois very much he'd always seen him as a disappointment. Perhaps that's what grandfather thought of him as well, he was just another screw-up. Then again where else do screw-ups belong besides together?
August 16th, 1992
It had been two years since she had last heard from her brother, two years since he disappeared into the night. He had abandoned her, his little sister, their entire family without so much as a good-bye. Grandfather refused to let a "traitorous weak-willed sap" occupy his every waking moment, and wouldn't let anybody else mention anything about Witchr. Arathyn was forced to suppress her feelings in fear of upsetting grandfather. She was hurt and angry which is never a good combination for a young witch like herself, grandfather was beginning to lose his patience, she'd destroyed so many artifacts and windows throughout the manor she'd begun to lose count.
Despite Arathyn's outbursts her magic was coming along really well, she had yet to purchase a wand (which she was supposed to have done with Witchr after his eleventh birthday) grandmother kept trying to reassure her, "Trust me dear your powers are progressing so well I hardly think you'll even need a wand."
It wasn't the wand she was worried about, it was Witchr, they were supposed to have begun training together and to have grown up together. Now, not even their mother knew where Witchr was; there was no longer 'Witchr and Arathyn', it had been diminished to just 'Arathyn'.
"Arathyn! There's a letter for you!" As her mother called for her from downstairs, the ten year old girl set down the book she had been reading, Intermediate Transfiguration, and exited the library she'd been cooped up in for three hours. Zipping down the stairs into the kitchen the young witch was met with the sight of her mother sitting at a dark cedar table with a large spotted owl perched upon her shoulder sifting through letters. In the kitchen some dishes were cleaning themselves and an enchanted pie whizzed off into the oven. Another smaller owl tittered around the wooden tabletop anxiously, flapping his wings in an irritated fashion trying to grab the woman's attention. Unlike the other owl's striking pattern and sleek feathers this owlet was in the process of molting and looked as if he'd been put in a blender. The older owl, Salem, held a dark eggplant coloured envelope in its beak, immediately, Arathyn recognized it. Grabbing the letter, she turned to run upstairs.
"Mom I'll be in my room if you need me!" She called before entirely disappearing upstairs.
Her room was on the second level down a dark hallway with maroon coloured walls and ebony accents, moving pictures and tapestries decorated the walls, mostly of her ancestors and other famous witches and wizards.
"Hey Uncle Charlie, Uncle Harb, Pogue, and Uncle Chuck!" Arathyn greeted in a rush as she swept past the moving paintings on the wall. She didn't stay long enough to hear the complaints of the old wizards refuting such pet names and giving long speeches about their nobility and other nonsense.
Down the hall there was a small study and bathroom behind the first two doors, followed by a drawing room and two bedrooms. Two small plaques on each bedroom door with golden lettering that read 'Arathyn' and 'Witchr' alike in script, but only one of the plaques was dust covered.
With the letter tightly gripped in her small hand, Arathyn twisted the golden door handle and entered the room that had been meant for her even before she came back from the Barius Centre of Magic and Healing maternity ward (The Joan Barius Order of Healing). It was a majestic room, with a large four-post bed, antique wardrobe and the entire room had been painted a soft mint colour. Each wall decorated to look like a forest, and the leaves had been charmed to change with the season. The bed frame was built out of trees: roots for the base and branches for the canopy, ivy vines took the place of curtains, able to be opened or closed with a simple wave of the hand. A large window on the West side of the room let in the bright afternoon sunlight and had a view of the Willowdale forest. For the generations the Ipswich family had lived in the expansive Ipswich Manor there had never been a need to fear being discovered by Muggles, magic sought to it that the impressive manor remained hidden.
Arathyn locked the door with a wave of her hand, then plopped down on to the cold wooden floor. Carefully she studied the strange envelope, it was rather small and oddly coloured, a purple envelope with lime green ink. The handwriting was very efficient and simple:
To: Arathyn R. Ipswich
1006 Ipswich Manor
Salem, MA
United States of America
As she opened the envelope a rush of excitement flooded her veins, this was a letter from her Great Uncle Gorlois in England! Arathyn had been writing him for sometime venting about Witchr and life at home, her uncle had accidentally hinted he knew where Witchr was, but refused to tell her. Over the past few letters she had begun to break his resolve, and maybe this was the answer to her two year long question.
Dear Arathyn,
I hope this letter finds you in good health, I apologize for such a late reply there have been many errands to do around the shop as of late. I would ask how your mother and father are but there are much more precedent things to talk about. Hopefully your training is going well and my brother is not being too overbearing. From what I hear, you're proving to be a very talented young witch, and you are able to perform spells wand-less. I am very proud to have such an amazing great-niece like you and I know Witchr would be very proud as well.
The disappearance of your brother has hurt you, to what extent I did not know until your last letter. It was because of that letter that I have had a change of heart. I know how much you miss your brother and because of that I wonder if I made the right decisions when it came to him and his situation. For these past months I have allowed Witchr to live with me in London.
He came to me desperate for help and despite what you may think I still hold the Ipswich family code to the utmost importance: "Never abandon your kin". I provided him with a place to live and everything he could possibly need, I did not think about the consequences of my actions. I could not lie to my family so, I informed your parents that Witchr had left in order to escape the pressures of the Ipswich family. They decided it was best that Witchr stayed with me for a year until he decided to return. Witchr did not wish for you to know in fear you would be disappointed, so he swore your parents to secrecy. Witchr only ever wanted to prove himself different from what people believed him to be. He did not want to be constricted by the Ipswich family binds, and I empathized with him. I asked a favor from my old friend, Albus Dumbledore, to allow Witchr to be enrolled in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He started last year, and I have never seen him so happy.
I am eternally sorry for every moment you were denied of your brother's companionship and friendship. I do not know if you could ever find it in your heart to forgive me. If you were to bestow your forgiveness upon me I shall try my hardest to regain your trust and prove myself.
Sincerely,
Gorlois C. Ipswich
Arathyn didn't know whether or not she would vomit, scream or cry. A flurry of emotions left her feeling light headed as she re-read the letter over and over again. She had found her brother, and lost any trust she had in her great uncle and family. For months she'd been asking him about any information surrounding Witchr and his whereabouts, each time she asked all she got were empty responses and lies on both ends.
Witchr was in London. Witchr was in London. Witchr was in London. He was in London and he was happy. Happy, that he left them behind. Happy, that he didn't have to deal with the Ipswich family "drama". Arathyn felt as if she'd been abandoned all over again; she knew there had to be a reason why he left she just never thought it would be because of their family.
Jumping to her feet, she rushed over to her writing table to grab a quill and paper, the quill moved furiously as she scratched down each letter.
If you can get my brother, the third heir of the Ipswich family, into Hogwarts despite our families' legacy then I suppose you'll have no problem arranging for my enrollment. I'll arrive in London in exactly one week by Floo powder, be waiting.
Arathyn
She meant every word, she would bring Witchr back home, she would fix everything and he would once again know what it means to be proud of being an Ipswich. Leaving her writing table, Arathyn went over to the window, pushing the glass open and letting in a fresh breeze from the open skies. Forming an 'O' shape with her lips Arathyn let out three long musical notes, and the same small creature from the kitchen landed on her windowsill. Carefully the ten year old put out her thin arm, the small barn owl used its sharp talons and clambered up her grey sleeve.
Cooing softly, Arathyn began to gently stroke the owl's feathers, the bird twisted its head in appreciation.
"Okay, Riley, this is for Uncle Gorlois, you've gotta be fast, alright? Now go."
The young girl handed the small paper to the bird and after he got a good grip the small owl took flight. Now it was time, she'd go to her parents and request to go to England, she was going to bring back her brother. She was going to find her brother, she was going to Hogwarts.
A/N: Gorlion and Gorlois are twins in case you were wondering.