https://staging.knockturnbound.net/ Sat, 01 Aug 2026 21:07:33 +0000 MyBB https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1017 Thu, 23 Apr 2026 03:00:07 +0000 Morgan Barlowe]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1017 Friday, 25 August 1922
The Drifting Kettle
Late afternoon
Three years

The crowds were thinning out now. Morgan had been here for hours. She’d told her dad that she just wanted some time alone and that she really didn’t want to buy anything. She brought some money just in case, but she hadn’t seen anything that caught her attention. Wandering around here had seemed like a great idea when she first woke up on today of all days.

It was officially three years since Morgan’s mum had been alive. She would never forget how her father brought her from Camp to tell her the bad news. How they had stayed in her flat for days before she finally relocated to his home.

She was in a new home now, again, and while her room was looking more and more like it belonged to her, it didn’t feel the same. Morgan missed that flat. She’d hated that she felt like her mum cared more about work than her, but overall she’d had a great life.

But then there was the hurt. The only reason she even knew about her father was because of Hogwarts. She truly believed that. Had she never received her letter… well, she’d likely be living with her mother’s parents at this point. She frowned at the thought; she loved them, but she wouldn’t have what she had now.

What did she have now? David croaked in her bag, hanging at her side. Morgan absentmindedly pulled him out of it. She hugged the toad to her chest and turned to look inside the teashop’s window. A teacup that a customer was using was familiar.

Morgan had been five, reckless, and clumsy. She’d also been hopeful that the hot tea (which was really just warm water with some sugar stirred in) would be enough to pull her mother’s attention away from the case file she’d been buried in for days. It hadn’t. She was brushed off, told to go play for a few more minutes. Morgan, defiant, threw the teacup down to the floor and screamed.

That was when Caroline, her mother, finally gave her some attention. And punishment. The teacup inside the tea shop was identical to the one she’d smashed.

If this was even just last year, Morgan would be in tears. But so much had happened – her father, Julia, Jude, the new house – that the memory felt like a lifetime away. She sighed, and hugged David, lost in thought as she stood outside the tea shop’s window.]]> Friday, 25 August 1922
The Drifting Kettle
Late afternoon
Three years

The crowds were thinning out now. Morgan had been here for hours. She’d told her dad that she just wanted some time alone and that she really didn’t want to buy anything. She brought some money just in case, but she hadn’t seen anything that caught her attention. Wandering around here had seemed like a great idea when she first woke up on today of all days.

It was officially three years since Morgan’s mum had been alive. She would never forget how her father brought her from Camp to tell her the bad news. How they had stayed in her flat for days before she finally relocated to his home.

She was in a new home now, again, and while her room was looking more and more like it belonged to her, it didn’t feel the same. Morgan missed that flat. She’d hated that she felt like her mum cared more about work than her, but overall she’d had a great life.

But then there was the hurt. The only reason she even knew about her father was because of Hogwarts. She truly believed that. Had she never received her letter… well, she’d likely be living with her mother’s parents at this point. She frowned at the thought; she loved them, but she wouldn’t have what she had now.

What did she have now? David croaked in her bag, hanging at her side. Morgan absentmindedly pulled him out of it. She hugged the toad to her chest and turned to look inside the teashop’s window. A teacup that a customer was using was familiar.

Morgan had been five, reckless, and clumsy. She’d also been hopeful that the hot tea (which was really just warm water with some sugar stirred in) would be enough to pull her mother’s attention away from the case file she’d been buried in for days. It hadn’t. She was brushed off, told to go play for a few more minutes. Morgan, defiant, threw the teacup down to the floor and screamed.

That was when Caroline, her mother, finally gave her some attention. And punishment. The teacup inside the tea shop was identical to the one she’d smashed.

If this was even just last year, Morgan would be in tears. But so much had happened – her father, Julia, Jude, the new house – that the memory felt like a lifetime away. She sighed, and hugged David, lost in thought as she stood outside the tea shop’s window.]]>