Palmer, Winnifred

[Wendy Palmer]

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{ A B O U T . Y O U }

Name: Didi
Gender: Femme
Age: Twenty homg.
E-mail: [e-mail]
Twitter: www.twitter.com/xhappyxendingsx
Years of RPG Experience: Several
Other: [Removed by staff]

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{ Q U I C K . Q U I Z }

How did you find us? Ellie did it. Blame her, I know I’m bizarre.
What about ISS inspired you to join? I saw the sign that said “Normal People Need Not Apply” and knew I’d fit in.
Do you have any suggestions for us? More techno rave dance parties. No, really.

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{ A B O U T . T H E . C H A R A C T E R }

Name: Winnifred “Wendy” Eliza Palmer
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Year: Sixth
Face Claim: Julie McNiven

Canon or Original? Arrrrrriginal. Like a pirate.

Facial Properties:
While not exactly vain, Wendy is rather happy with her appearance. If there is any aspect of herself that she had to favour, it would be her face. Her pale skin never tans well, though in the right circumstance, she can blush a deeper shade of pink than most. Light splashes of freckles and beauty spots decorate her cheeks, though they’re not as prominent or noticeable as those typically associated with the stereotypical image of a redhead. Her eyes are hazel and rather round, which can give the impression of childishness and innocence that may not be entirely accurate. Wendy’s nose could easily be described as long and pointed, not that she minds, and is lightly freckled, and it curves upward at the tip. Her mouth is a tad wide, especially given the thinness of her face. The corners of her lips are often turned upward; whether it’s because she’s happy or just because it feels better than frowning for no reason, there always appears to be just a hint of a smile on her face. Wendy’s hair is a deep shade of red, waving slightly as it frames her face, and it rests just below her shoulders. She prefers to wear it down, considering putting it up to be less relaxed of a style, therefore less “her”. It’s quite thick, and while it doesn’t curl very well, it does have a nice wave to it when she simply lets it be.
Physique:
A silhouette of Wendy Palmer would undoubtedly prove that she is feminine. She is neither short nor exceptionally tall, standing at just under 5’7”, though her shoes often have a hint of a square heel that make her appear taller. While she will be the first to admit that her figure is not the “perfect” flat image as projected upon society through media, she’s also not going to hold back the fact that she isn’t ashamed of how she looks, either. She counts her lucky stars that she’s remotely skinny, given that she’s wholly out of shape with very little muscle development. Wendy can be categorised as “pear-shaped” in that she’s filled out, but not over-curvy above the waist, but her hips are wide and definitely womanly. Her skin is pale everywhere, and though her face is the only freckled area, she does have the occasional beauty spot in a random place here and there. Wendy is very aware of her curves, and she doesn’t mind using her femininity to attract attention and flirt. She’s rather comfortable with how she looks and won’t hesitate to flaunt her assets.

Wand Type: Walnut, phoenix feather, nine inches. { Celtic lore claims that the walnuts, which is the tree that covers her birthday (April 22nd), are spontaneous, passionate strategists, which can suit Wendy quite nicely. The phoenix feather probably showcases her wanting to help others and be a Healer, whereas the length is just comfortable, really. Which she likes to be, so it works.
Wand Expertise: Strong in Charms. { Honestly, Wendy believes this is just because she’s quite a flirt and uses her “charm” to attract others. She prefers a challenge, like Transfiguration, but since Charms are easy for her wand to do...hey, why not.
Patronus: Red fox. { Red foxes tend to symbolise quick-thinking, cleverness and adaptability, which all seem to work for Wendy when it comes to her little habit of lying. Other cultures see foxes as symbols of protection from evil, which could be attributed to Wendy’s desire to help others; but others see it as the exact opposite, as a trickster who tries to lure others to their demise. While Wendy wouldn’t go far as to say she’d trick others to their death, her lying could deceive them, and lead to harm of some sorts if she’s not careful. Foxes are also seen as creative and resourceful, as well as symbols of passion, desire, and intensity – all of which can be attributed to Wendy in certain ways. Honestly, the red fox is so fitting for the different sides to her personality, there’s really no other creature her Patronus could be.
Boggart: Her father, Fredrick Palmer. { Really, there’s not a whole lot Wendy is afraid of. It’s not that she’s “fearless”, per se, but she just never had much to fear. Fear is such a silly emotion sometimes; maybe it’s because she grew up on a farm and saw them all the time, but people are afraid of silly things like spiders! Not that Wendy likes them; in fact, they disgust her, but disgust is different from fear. She won’t run away screaming from a bug, but she will crinkle her nose. In any case, she doesn’t fear a whole lot – she likes the thrill of fear, in fact – but her father is an exception. If there is one thing in the world Wendy fears, it’s him, but not without reason.

Personality:

. SOCIAL .

Wendy loves people. She loves being around them, near them, with them, talking to them, listening to them, looking at them, being looked at by them...she is a great fan of parties and other social gatherings, and can actually be quite adaptable to different situations. Even though she enjoys the company of others, she finds it difficult to connect and click with many on a more personal level. She doesn’t let that deter her from attending parties and gatherings and get-togethers. While she isn’t necessarily the “life of the party”, she is far from a wallflower, and will chat with almost anyone. Wendy has an ability to be able to fit in with different groups of people, if she is careful about the things she says. She’s rather bold, and is not afraid to strike up conversations with random strangers if they seem to interest her enough. On top of that, she’s excessively flirty with guys, and quite touchy-feely with them as well. She’s touchy-feely with anyone, really, but her main target would be the boys. She has the sense enough to not overstep her boundaries – she won’t place her hand on a taken or shy guy’s thigh, for example – but she is forward enough to rest her hand on wrists and knees, and even link arms or take the hand of someone she’s known for under ten minutes if they seem to be getting along well enough. She can be charming when she wants to be, though she tends to attribute this to her confidence in her outward appearance. She knows she’s pretty – she wouldn’t go so far as to call herself “beautiful” – and will use this to her advantage if she thinks that someone is attracted to and interested in her. Adding to her charm is a strange sort of innocent quality, though anyone will realise that she really is far from innocent. A person could even call her promiscuous – though she doesn’t “sleep around” – but she’s not out to seduce. It’s just fun, which is likely what seems so innocent. She does what’s fun for her and others. She hasn’t really organised a party herself yet, but she’s more than happy to attend one of any sort. She is not at all shy and will often make the first move – though whether she pursues what she wants depends on the response she gets. She’ll move on if it’s stand-offish, but if the other is interested, she will go after it if she wants it.

. IMPULSIVE .

Wendy does what she wants, plain and simple, even if she has to lie to get it. Lying itself is absolutely not a problem for her. And she’s damn good at it, too, for she’s smart about it: there’s always a hint of truth, or evidence that could make the lie more plausible. She lies for her own entertainment, though if she felt threatened or vindictive enough, she could easily say something untrue to hurt another person. There are times when Wendy will say something, and then pause and realise that what she said wasn’t true. These moments always catch her by surprise, for she likes to calculate and think about her lies beforehand, but she’s good enough at covering that she can often breeze by the moment without being caught. Lying aside, Wendy doesn’t believe in things like fate or destiny, so she has no qualms about going after something – or someone – that she wants. This includes cheating or an affair, if it comes down to that. See, loyalty doesn’t really matter too much to Wendy if there are no official titles involved. If Wendy is in a relationship with someone, she can make out with someone else and not think much of it, because it’s something that she wanted to do. She isn’t against an open relationship, either. Unless she’s in love – which she never has been – she doesn’t see anything wrong with “playing the field”, even if her partner does. She is a little bit impatient, so she can sometimes make a spontaneous decision based out of not wanting to wait for something any longer. As well, once she has made this sort of decision, she can be incredibly stubborn and almost impossible to sway. Her desire to always be doing something literally keeps her up at night: she’s an insomniac, simply because she doesn’t want to stop whatever action she’s doing. When she gets around to homework, she does it at night in bed – and because she’s always tired at that time of night, there are often errors and nonsensical sentences in her works. She really doesn’t care, though; she’s intelligent, and passes the classes she needs to, which is what’s important. She can be easily distracted from her work, of course, and isn’t against causing distractions to others who are trying to do their own, either. Wendy’s boldness gives her the drive to go after what she wants, and she is often determined to see it through, no matter what that means she has to do.

. INSECURE .

Outwardly, Wendy practically oozes confidence. With her flirtiness, her love of all things social, and being as touchy-feely as she is, a person might not realise that she’s quite insecure with herself on the inside. Not so much with her appearance – if anything, that’s where she gets her confidence – but she often questions her worth as a person. Her father and mother weren’t fantastic influences in her life and her cousin doesn’t do much to help her self-esteem when she’s away from Hogwarts. Actual relationships are intimidating to her, because she has a nagging worry of not being good enough for whoever the significant other may be. However, she doesn’t make an effort to change herself for that person. She just...accepts it. She will accept that she doesn’t feel worthy, and just go with it, because she feels she can’t change whatever aspect it is that is holding her – them – back. There’s no use in it, so why bother with disappointment on top of the self-loathing? That would only make it worse. What exactly makes her so insecure with herself, she can’t truly pinpoint. Wendy could easily say it’s because she’s so dishonest with people, but she also is entertained by lying, so she knows that can’t be entirely it. It can’t be her “sordid” romantic history, since she never hated or regretted any of them and doesn’t consider herself to be “easy”. Whatever the reason, she has bouts of extreme insecurity that can potentially lead her on a brief self-destructive path. This is most prevalent in school work, where she’ll deliberately skip assignments because she considers trying and failing worse than just not doing them at all. This can also sometimes present itself in the form of starting rumours about people who make her uncomfortable, which really does help a bit for a short period of time. She can say incredibly nasty, even vulgar, things for the shock value and for that twinge of satisfaction, for that brief second of “I’m better than you” that accompanies her moment of victory. Luckily, these more-severe bursts don’t last long; she can often mask her insecurity with her outward confidence, and sometimes doesn’t even think about it. Though, admittedly, she wishes she could feel that all the time.

. MATERNAL .

Beneath her love of a good party and a few wild evenings, there is definitely a maternal instinct to Wendy. She has a genuine concern for the well-being of those she cares about, and for the injured who cannot care for themselves. She feels a strange sense of responsibility towards them, like she has to take care of them, even nurture them back to full health if the situation calls for it. Whatever maturity she possesses shows in such situations, where she can very easily assume charge and make the calls for how best to take care of those involved. Honestly, she can’t say where this instinct comes from. She does, however, feel it contributes strongly toward her desire to be a Healer once graduating from Hogwarts. From the age of ten and on, she picked up natural healing methods, like knowing what organic salves would be good for open wounds, or what could soothe a burn. Once getting to Hogwarts, she became interested in medicinal potions and remedies. Not one for studying out of books, she often faked sick to go to the infirmary and investigate Madam Pomfrey’s cabinets, sifting through creams and bottles to see what did what. She can remember things that interest her with more ease than things that don’t (which isn’t exactly exceptional, but she accepts it), and retained the knowledge of what she learned up there over the years. Wendy uses this knowledge to help and to protect the few people she genuinely cares about, nurturing and assisting in gentle and soothing ways when they need her to do so.

Likes:
+ Lying { It’s entertaining, and she’s good at it. Wendy likes the feeling of knowing something the other person doesn’t, and she can get that from lying. She manipulates for fun, though tries not to do anything damaging, and enjoys every moment of it.
+Parties & drinking { It’s a way to let go and have a good time. Sure, Wendy can make stupid choices when intoxicated, as can everyone...but she hasn’t done anything she regrets yet. Plus, parties are a way to be social and flirt. What’s not to like?
+Massaging others & having her hair played with { Wendy is touchy-feely anyway, and it helps relax both of them, especially if she’s trying to flirt with him. And, she absolutely loves when people play with her hair. She loves the affection of it, and it just feels good.
+Gambling, especially poker { There’s nothing wrong with placing a little bet here and there. And if money isn’t on hand, there are always ways to make the bet more interesting.
+Baking { Okay, even though Wendy doesn’t really have a sweet tooth, she does love to bake. It’s relaxing, in a very weird way.
+Decorating { She’s not so much into interior design as she is decorating with little things, such as putting up a Christmas tree, or just putting little things around her bed in the dormitory.
+Divination, Charms & Transfiguration { Charms is a fun class in general, especially since her wand seems good for it. Transfiguration is an exceptionally challenging class, especially since McGonagall is hard to please, and Wendy loves rising to that challenge. As for Divination, Wendy is extremely interested in palm reading and tarot cards and fortune-telling. Divination is a class she actually takes seriously; she’s no Seer, but she tries hard at it due to her genuine interest.
+Thrills { From riding a rollercoaster to even just reading a frightening novel, Wendy loves a good thrill. She loves the way her heart races and her breath stops and all thought is put on hold.
+Outdoors { From working on her uncle’s sheep farm, to hiking, camping, or just being outside, Wendy just loves being outdoors. The smells, the sounds, the sights...everything about being outside appeals to her.
+Magical medicine { Wendy wants to be a Healer. It’s not just the aspect of helping others, either. It’s a challenge, and Wendy loves to overcome challenges and obstacles.
Dislikes:
–Contact with her neck { Normally she can manoeuvre around it so that it doesn’t happen, but if it’s unexpected, she will have a panicky reaction. The reason for this will become clear once the history is read.
–Her parents { Again, history will make this clearer. In short, her mother taught her that it was okay to lie to protect others, and her father...well, her father was an alcoholic with rage issues.
–Cooking { Oh, she’s sure she’d like it if she could do it properly. She can bake, sure, but somehow she can’t get a grip on cooking without help of some sort. She always burns something, or mixes the wrong ingredients – something always goes wrong when she tries to cook.
– Horses { When she first went to live with her aunt and uncle, they had a horse that wasn’t the most trusting or nicest, especially around children. She may have been ten years old, but it still seemed huge to her, and she was rather upset when it tried to bite her one day. It pretty much ruined her impression of horses. Plus, she has a “mild allergy”. Or so she says.
–Fishing { She never liked the feel or look of them. They were always freaky-looking creatures and she always shuddered at the idea of touching them.
–Fire { Controlled fire, like in a fireplace or a candle, is fine. But wildfire, forest fires, anything like that, she doesn’t like. It’s safe to say that Wendy is no pyromaniac.
–Seafood { She had a shrimp dish with crab on the side once, and got horrible food poisoning from it. She hasn’t been able to eat seafood, or even be around it without getting nauseous, since.
–The smell of burnt food { The smell makes her feel ill; also, since she burns food so much, it just reminds her of her own failure to do something relatively simple.
–Bullying { Well, honestly, who likes bullying? It’s probably her maternal instinct speaking, but she does feel a need to step in and interfere when she’s a witness to an incident of it occurring. She’s not afraid to stand up to someone in the wrong, regardless of who it is.
–Yelling { Raised voices remind her of her childhood and the way her father used to scream and threaten to hurt her and her mother. Yelling makes her rather nervous – and brings up old emotions of fear that she tried to shove away over time.

History:

. FATHER .

Nestled in the fields and hills near Greater Manchester is a quaint little sheep farm, passed on from father to son since the mid-eighteenth century. The Palmers have lived there, raising sheep and selling wool to markets and clothing manufacturers, fully content with their Muggle lives, for centuries. But every family has its secrets, the Palmers being no exception. Alcohol is a big weakness for members of this family, and has been for generations. However, the first time it was ever acknowledged as a legitimate issue was in the case of Martin Palmer. His father, luckily, was not an alcoholic, but his uncle had been and Martin was, unfortunately, susceptible. His addiction didn’t rear its ugly head until he was in his late twenties, though. Until then, he lived a quiet and relatively happy life with his wife, Judith, who he married out of secondary school. They inherited the sheep farm from his parents a few years after they married, for he’d been born later on in their marriage, and they didn’t feel like running the farm anymore. Judith was barely twenty-three when she gave birth to their first child, Winnifred. Winnifred was always a frail and sickly thing, born early and barely making it out of the hospital, and grew up rather ill and often bedridden. But she was an enthusiastic and curious child who loved life, and liked to run around when she was feeling well enough for it. When she was three, and Martin and Judith twenty-six, a second baby was brought into the family: a healthy boy dubbed Fredrick. Even though the baby was healthy, labour had been tough on Judith, but she insisted on one more child. She’d been an only child and wanted a big family, but Martin was concerned for her health and safety. Deciding that if she was going to have one more, it should be soon, they didn’t wait long before trying for their third. With the birth of Patrick, Martin and Judith decided they were done having kids. Luckily, Patrick was much easier on Judith, and he was also a healthy boy. And for the first couple months of the Palmers with their three kids, life was all right. Difficult, because running a farm was tough and Winnifred was often sick, but they stuck together.

And then there was the accident. Winnifred was five years old and out playing in the field with Fredrick; Judith was inside the house with Patrick, and Martin was doing repair work in the barn. There was a pile of logs from fallen trees that Martin kept around for both firewood and building purposes. He’d warned Winnifred and Fredrick to stay away from it since it was dangerous and unstable. And normally, they obeyed. But that day, when Winnifred was finally able to be outside and actually play, she got so wrapped up in her world of make-believe that she climbed the great mountain to the top. Martin, who had been stepping out of the barn to check on the kids, rushed toward them and managed to get Fredrick away just as the log pile collapsed beneath Winnifred. Her fragile little body broke as she fell and the logs rolled over her, crushing her ribs into her lungs and organs. The little girl died almost instantly; the Palmers were never the same after that. Judith became obsessed with sheltering her boys and making sure they didn’t do anything dangerous. Martin began to drink. And drink. And drink. And on bad days, when all he could think about was his daughter screaming as he pulled his son to safety, he would get violent. Little Fredrick got the brunt of the abuse, since Martin had had to pull him out of the way instead of going after Winnifred, but if Patrick was the closer of the two, Martin wasn’t above letting him feel the back of his hand against his cheek. The older the boys got, the rougher Martin became. His drinking rose to excessive levels, to where he was reeking of alcohol and to where if he wasn’t drunkenly roaring around the house, he was passed out somewhere with a bottle nearby. As the boys entered their teens with one-too-many bad memories, Martin’s health began to deteriorate, and Judith came closer and closer to snapping. Until that point, Martin’s aggression had only been taken out on the boys; when Fredrick and Patrick were sixteen and fifteen, however, he struck Judith across the face and knocked her to the floor for spilling his drink. That had been it for her: the next day, she packed her belongings while Martin worked the sheep, and left to live with her parents a few counties over. Fredrick and Patrick were left to run the farm with Martin, whose temper only shortened after Judith left them. He had next to no restraint when taking out his drunken rage on his boys. And both of them took it and dealt with it. While Patrick spilled every event and emotion to his older girlfriend, Moira Grey, Fredrick bottled his feelings inside and silently hated his father. And while Patrick properly mourned the loss of their father barely a year after Judith left, Fredrick only felt relief. He was gone, he couldn’t hurt him or his little brother anymore, and they had the farm all to themselves. At last.

. MOTHER .

Bryan Kelley met Millicent Andrews while he was in university. He was studying to become a physicist, and her family managed a small café near campus where he chose to study because it was quiet and the coffee was good. Plus, when he needed a distraction from the books, he could always look up and see the pretty red-headed waitress smiling back at him from over the countertop. He flirted with her madly during his time spent there, and she responded to him positively. The couple dated for seven months before they married. They waited until Bryan had graduated and had a steady, working job as a physicist before deciding to try for children. However, conception was rather difficult. Millicent’s family had a history of failed pregnancies, and it looked like Millicent was no exception. For years, they went on childless, despite both of them wanting one. At last, when both of them were in their thirties and had all but given up, Millicent became pregnant with, and gave birth to, a healthy little girl they named Patricia. A quiet girl, Trish grew up into quite the beauty, though she never had much confidence in her looks and was actually rather shy. But she did love to write. She wanted to be a journalist, and when it came to interviewing people for her “editorials”, her shyness all but disappeared. Trish was a girl who was all about the facts, and she was impatient, and didn’t have time for silly things like love.

Fredrick Palmer changed Patricia Andrews’s life. How they met is not spectacular: running into each other in the laundry section of the marketplace is hardly the things epic romances are made of. In fact, upon meeting each other, they initially argued over brands of detergent. He had snorted when she chose the brand with the teddy bear on the front while he went for the more-masculine body-builder logo, and Trish mentioned that she thought it was rather rude of him to laugh at her choice when his was the definition of chauvinistic. He called hers stereotypically feminine, and they had a brief back-and-forth before coolly parting ways. However, they kept running into each other in different aisles, seeming to find something to bicker over in each one. By the time they reached the milk, there was a strange, thick tension between them that Trish didn’t like or understand...and that Fredrick decided to twist to his advantage, and he asked her to dinner. Too shocked to say anything but yes, they made plans to meet up that upcoming weekend. Trish had dated him out of curiosity, and to her great surprise, ended up falling in love with Fredrick. They married two years after they started dating, when he was twenty-one and she was nineteen.

. MARRIAGE .

To an outsider, the newlywed Palmers seemed like a happy couple. Fredrick had moved out of the farm, leaving it to his little brother and his fiancée, and they lived together in a small house in Greater Manchester. They were close, and when in public, it seemed like they had the perfect marriage. She was just the quiet, obedient little housewife, and he was the husband who worked for a law firm and brought in the money to buy her pretty things. But if one was to look in on their private life and read between the lines, one would see that things were wrong between them. Trish no longer aspired to be a journalist, not after Fredrick’s multiple reminders that it was no profession for a woman and she wasn’t very good at it, anyway. And Fredrick had kept alcoholism a secret from Trish, who thought nothing of fixing him a drink, only fuelling his growing addiction. His anger issues began to show soon after marriage, but Trish, who was so very sure she was in love with him, never said a word. And they lived that way for two years, Fredrick’s anger and drinking habits getting the better of him more often. But he never crossed the line to hit Trish, or else she was certain she would have left him. But leaving him was on her mind anyway as he became more and more unmanageable, and sometimes she’d be genuinely afraid when he raised his voice. But even though Fredrick was putting her through hell, he loved his wife. He’d never fully gotten over his daddy issues, and Trish just seemed to take everything he was throwing at her, so he was exceptionally grateful toward her. He just had an unhealthy way of showing it. And he was losing her, slowly, the more verbally and emotionally abusive and inebriated he became.

Toward their two-year anniversary, Trish was caught in an inner turmoil of knowing she couldn’t live that way forever, but being afraid of losing the love of her life. She didn’t want to leave him – she’d given up her own life and dreams for him – but he couldn’t keep treating her that way. And so she did something desperate: she suggested that they have a child to help patch the rockiness of their marriage. Fredrick had agreed, and he also admitted that he was very aware that he had a drinking problem and that his father had had one, too. He told Trish all about his childhood, and apologised for everything he had put her through. She had just been grateful he hadn’t hit her. He promised to go to group meetings to get himself through his addiction. He promised to fix himself up before the baby came. And with this in mind, Trish felt much better about trying for a “fix-it” baby. Like her mother, and most of the women in her family, conception was difficult and it took a while for her to finally get pregnant. During that time, Fredrick managed to get his drinking under control and keep it in check; his anger was another matter. He didn’t lose his temper with Trish anymore, but he kept every frustration inside. It bottled up and festered, building slowly and lying dormant within him as he put aside his emotions for the benefit of Trish and their child. And when Winnifred Eliza Palmer was born into the world, Fredrick and Trish were both convinced it had disappeared entirely.

. CHILDHOOD .

Winnifred Palmer loved her father. She knew that from the earliest age possible to know such things. He spoiled his little girl, too. When she wanted to go to the zoo, he took her to the zoo. When she wanted to go for a hike, he took her for a hike. When she wanted to take gymnastics, he enrolled her in classes. Trish often warned that she would grow up to be a spoiled brat, but Fredrick said that he wasn’t worried about his little Freddie ever being a brat. He loved his daughter more than he loved anything in the world. He swore he would never do anything to hurt her. Winnifred – “Freddie” to her father, “Winnie” to her mother – didn’t know about her father’s past addiction to alcohol, but sometimes when they had friends over, she would wonder why they had to bring their own kinds of bubbly drinks while her father stuck to pop or water or juice. She asked Trish, once. Trish told her that she’d know when she was older, and advised her not to ask again. Winnifred obeyed and simply remained quiet about it. That was how it was with her mother: she obeyed without question, and not because she was intimidated, but because her mother always seemed so nervous about everything and didn’t need the extra stress of questions. She and her mother never really, really clicked, not the way she did with her father, but Winnifred loved her regardless of that. Though, she did always hate the fact that her mother called her “Winnie”. She didn’t necessarily like her father calling her “Freddie”, either, but figured that her name didn’t allow much leeway for better nicknames. That is, until she was seven, and a school trip allowed her to see a performance of Peter Pan at a local community theatre. There was something about the name “Wendy” that greatly appealed to little Winnifred. Maybe it was how easy it was for the girl to believe in things that she couldn’t. Or maybe it was the fact that she so easily told so many stories about this one person and everything she said was eaten up. Whatever the reason, Winnifred gave herself the nickname of “Wendy” that day, and has introduced herself as such ever since. Her parents were the only people who still referred to her as Winnie, Freddie or Winnifred.

Normalcy lasted seven years, if one can call an overly-doting father and a constantly-nervous mother “normal”. And then her father’s account at the firm acquired a huge client, and it had been because of Fredrick’s persuasion. The office had insisted on taking him out to celebrate, and Fredrick hadn’t exactly refused. He went, not only enthusiastically but raring to have a drink. He promised he’d stop at two, but that didn’t happen. Six shots and three beers later, he was taken home – and it was obvious that he was drunk. Trish met him at the door and tried to remain quiet. Maybe this time wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he could control himself. Maybe he could keep his anger in check. Hoping it wouldn’t be like before, Trish asked him if he needed her to do anything. Fredrick had glared down at her and growled that he needed her and that wretched little child of hers to stay the fuck out of his goddamn life. Trish had only sighed and taken care of him, absorbing every insult and profanity he threw her way. Not once did she raise her voice or try to stop him; she never even came to Wendy’s defence when he insulted her. Trish slept on the couch that night, and hoped it was just a one-time thing. But what Trish imagined, and what was real, were two very different things. For three months, Fredrick became consumed by alcohol and his old drinking habits. His anger was almost out of control. Wendy wanted badly to talk to someone, to tell a neighbour that her mother’s hand kept getting cut from picking up glass shards because her father liked to break things. But she remained quiet, watching in awestruck horror as her mother told lie after lie to cover up. From “I dropped a plate” to “I was bitten by a stray”, Trish said whatever she could to protect Fredrick. And Wendy, who loved her father even when he yelled at her, kept her trap shut, like Trish said.

But after those three nightmarish months, Fredrick received warning at work that he could be fired if he didn’t clean up his act. Once again, his addiction was threatening his job, and Fredrick checked himself into an alcoholic rehabilitation centre that weekend. He was there for six months before coming home, just before Wendy’s eighth birthday. He apologised and promised that things would get better. He promised he’d be like how he was before. Wendy trusted him, and put all her hope and faith into the idea that he would be the father she loved from before. And for a while, he was okay. For a while, Fredrick was back to taking Wendy to fairs and parks, buying her pretty things, and basically spoiling her rotten. He was cool toward Trish, even avoidant, but Wendy hardly noticed. She was just so glad that her Daddy was back to normal that she, too, barely paid attention to her Mother. Trish, however, felt abandoned by both her husband and child, and on the night of Wendy’s eighth birthday, she made the mistake of picking a fight with Fredrick. She asked him why he felt it was right to ignore her like she didn’t matter. She asked him why he loved Winnie more than he loved his wife. She asked why she had to sacrifice her time with him, why Winnie got all the attention, why she had to be left in a corner and forgotten. Fredrick, who hadn’t had a drop of alcohol, became infuriated and screamed profanities at her in a way he hadn’t before, even while intoxicated. Wendy sat and watched in dismay as everything her daddy said he’d mended unravelled before them. His anger was out of control; he threw books across the living room, he broke dishes, he towered over Trish while she crouched in a corner and shook. And even though he didn’t touch a drop of alcohol, things did not improve after that. If anything, his anger became worse. His temper shortened to a point where merely breathing too loud could irritate him. But he never hit either Trish or Wendy. He came close – again – but he never struck them in anger. He would scream, break things, and he would threaten. But he never hit.

. INCIDENT .

Until she was ten, Wendy lived with the fights, the dry drunk tirades, the threats, the broken objects, the busted walls, the tears, the cover-ups, the lies, and the fear that one day, someone was going to end up hurt. But still, Fredrick never struck her or her mother in anger. He would come close to it, close enough that he would raise his hand swiftly and almost make a motion to slap, but would catch himself just in time. There were, however, a few times when Wendy was sure that if she hadn’t called, “Daddy!” at the last second, her mother would have a fresh bruise on her face. On one of the worst nights, when Fredrick came home from work tired and stressed because one of his coworkers was just let go and he could have been next, Trish – feeling sorry for him – fixed him a drink. Fredrick took it, thinking it would relax him and he could handle his addiction. He asked for another, said he could handle it, and Trish made him two more and watched with a sense of dread as his anger only seemed to increase. It had been two years since his last drop of alcohol. Two years and one giant rehab bill and episodes of Fredrick shouting in frustration and threatening and breaking anything that could shatter – it became their lives. But he hadn’t had a drink for those, or they could have been so much worse. That in mind, Trish had thought he could handle a drink or two. When she said that she thought he had enough, Fredrick pushed his chair away from the table and stood fast enough to knock it over. He whirled around, and Wendy watched as he grabbed Trish by the shoulders and gave her a swift shake. It was the most physically violent he ever got with her mother, and though he let go and apologised right away, neither Trish nor Wendy could hide their fear. All Wendy could think of doing was telling someone, anyone, that she was worried that her daddy would hurt her mother. But Trish kept covering up, kept telling Wendy to keep it quiet. It was a mistake, he hadn’t meant to do it, it was her fault, she never should have given him that first drink, etc. Wendy obeyed. Wendy stayed quiet.

The last night she saw her parents, she went to a friend’s house after school. She called her own house from there and informed Trish of where she was, and that she’d been invited for supper and would walk home later. It wasn’t a huge deal as she’d done it before, and Trish just said to have fun and be safe. Wendy did end up staying later than she expected, heading home just as it was beginning to get dark. She couldn’t have picked a worse time to be late, it seemed: Fredrick had finally been laid off from his job in the downsizing, and he was looking for an excuse to lose it. Wendy walked in the door late, when it was dark outside and Fredrick hadn’t known she was at a friend’s house. He’d been in the middle of ranting to Trish about how it wasn’t fair that he’d been fired when Tim from the fourth floor was completely incapable of doing his job properly when his daughter walked through the door. He’d rounded on her immediately, demanding to know where exactly she’d been, why the hell she’d come home so late, why didn’t she plan this before, why didn’t she inform them of her whereabouts (Trish opened her mouth to interject, but remained silent), what the hell was she thinking to come home after dark – he yelled and raved and threw his coffee cup across the room, and it hit the wall and shattered just to the right of Wendy’s head. At last, Trish spoke up, screaming at Fredrick to stop, to not hurt Wendy, that enough was enough. He had to stop hurting them. Fredrick screamed back that Trish didn’t know what it meant to be hurt, and Wendy finally decided to interfere: she grabbed her father’s hand with both of hers as he raised it toward Trish, and he reached around with his other to wrap his fingers around her throat. Trish was screaming, begging for him to stop. Wendy’s hands fell to her sides, and all she could think about was the fact that her father’s hand was squeezing, that she couldn’t breathe, that her lungs were starting to burn, that the corners of the world were starting to go dark, that no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t catch a breath...she was going to die. Her father was going to kill her. He was going to choke her to death right then and there, before she’d even gotten her shoes from outside off and put away. Wendy was going to die before her life even really began, because she’d stayed out later than she should have. Her father was going to kill her, he was going to slowly and oh god so painfully choke her to death and watch her life give out in his hand. Wendy barely had time to think that it just wasn’t fair before she blacked out.

. AFTERMATH .

Naturally, Wendy has no recollection of how she got out of the house alive. Blacking out due to lack of oxygen tends to do that to a person. When she finally woke up, she was in a hospital bed, a breathing tube down her throat and bandages wrapped around her bruised neck. And her mother was sitting in a chair next to the bed, staring around the room at any place that was not her daughter. Because of the tube down her throat, Wendy was unable to speak; Trish quickly and quietly explained that Fredrick had left after she passed out, and she had rushed Wendy to the hospital as fast as she could. She went on, saying that she couldn’t be the mother Wendy needed at that time. She was much too young to do it alone, she wasn’t prepared, she couldn’t think about raising a child when she felt so emotionally unstable...she had a list of excuses, and Wendy didn’t believe a single one. All she could think was that her mother was telling her more lies to cover up and justify the fact that she didn’t want her as a daughter anymore. And when Trish concluded by saying that Wendy was going to live on her aunt and uncle’s farm for a few years, Wendy knew better than to start counting the days and wait for Trish’s return. Shortly after explaining, Trish left, swiftly kissing the top of Wendy’s head and saying a quick goodbye before leaving her to the care of Patrick and Moira Palmer.

When Wendy got out of the hospital, it was summer, and the sheep farm was under full-swing. While Patrick still raised and sold sheep and their wool, he also entered one of his border collies – Cirrus – into herding competitions. Cirrus had won a few championships in his younger days, and at that time, Patrick mostly entered him for the purpose of entertainment than actually winning. The other dog, Gypsy, still herded the sheep at home, but had also given birth to a few litters of puppies. Being pureblood dogs from a champion line, they fetched a fair price, keeping the Palmers sustained when markets weren’t really interested in wool. Wendy arrived on the farm when the new litter was just a few days old, and her Aunt Moira often brought her out to the barn to get her to help take care of them. It was obvious right away that one of the puppies was a bit of a bully toward the others, and Wendy loved his spunk. She favoured him over the others, and as he grew, the two ended up forming an attachment. Thinking that she could use some companionship after being abandoned by her parents, her aunt and uncle decided to let her keep him instead of selling him to someone else. Wendy called him Gratis, and the older he grew, the more protective of her he became. Aside from looking after Gratis, Wendy also helped to take care of the lambs and sheep. She grew to love being outside on the farm, and spent most of her time playing in the fields with Gratis. Uncle Patrick taught her a few things about taking care of sheep and properly running a sheep farm, while Aunt Moira – a masseuse – taught her some methods to massaging, as well as how to read palms and tarot cards. Her own daughter, Christina, always thought it was a waste of time and never had any interest in it, whereas Wendy was truly fascinated.

Her second summer there, she was eleven years old, and of course that was the year that she received her Hogwarts letter. Wendy was amazed, to be honest, as she hadn’t shown any signs of accidental magic since she’d lived at home with her parents. The most that had happened there was doors jamming and refusing to let Fredrick come into the house on nights when he seemed more enraged and violent than most, and Wendy had thought those incidences were weird, but never once thought they meant that she was magic. Evidently generations ago there was a wizard on her mother’s side, but magic was quite scattered and rare in Wendy’s family. In any case, she was extremely excited to discover that she was a witch, and couldn’t wait to go to Hogwarts. Her aunt and uncle were also happy for her, and were delighted to discover that she was special enough to do magic. Her cousin was jealous and peeved, and didn’t mind expressing to Wendy how much she disliked her. Wendy didn’t care, though. Being away from the yelling, living on her aunt and uncle’s farm, learning she was a witch...Wendy finally felt safe. And in feeling safe, she felt she could let herself be content. She just hopes that sticks.

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{ C O N T R A C T }

I solemnly swear that I, Didi, have read the rules, understand clearly what my responsibilities are now that I am joining ISS, and will abide by these standards set by the staff.

[Lily Evans]

accepted !