The Mortician's Daughter [Terry]

[mathilde manon poole]

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July 6th, 2028

”Hi! Could you point me in the direction of the morgue, please?”

The sheer honesty in her voice surprised even herself. The visitors badge dangled from the front of her button up shirt, clearly indicating who she was and, more than likely, why she was at St. Mungo’s. She didn’t really know what the different colors on the badge indicated, but her full name was displayed front and center. Poole wasn’t a common name, at least not in the magical world, and Tilly had already been stopped a few times and asked if she was ‘Teresa’s sister’. She had completely forgotten that Terry had a full, real name. The fact that Mathilde was written out on the badge as well had made her wretch. She hated the name. No one could pronounce it either. The number of times she had been called Matilda or Maddie. At least the latter one wasn’t the worst alternative.

Her question seemed to catch the poor floor receptionist off-guard though. A genuine look of confusion crossed her plain face, before switching to horror that such a young girl was asking for the morgue, of all places. No one would ever expect that she was just curious about it all. It had been a lingering interest for a number of years now. Ever since the fire at school. While she personally hadn’t seen any dead bodies that night, the vast majority of those that had perished having been instantly incinerated in the heat of fiendfyre flames, she had convinced herself that those that collapsed with paralysis were basically the same thing. The seed had been planted at that moment, while she was being lifted off her feet and dragged away by an Auror. They thought her screams were for her friends. They were because she wanted to stay and watch everything unfold.

Tilly knew there was something wrong with her. Once people realized that her morbid curiosities were more than passing fancies, they always got the same look on their face. Most didn’t grow up with parents and a sister in the medical field though. Or were forced through multiple life-altering events by the age of thirteen. She supposed that had a lot to do with it.

’I’m sorry…you want to go to the morgue?’ The receptionist repeated back to Tilly, her voice edging between a state of confusion and worry. She probably thought the Poole girl was going down there to identify a family member. That would work as a half-decent cover story, at least until the security wizards caught up to her. Then she could just play dumb and say she was lost again. ”That’s alright,” Tilly said quickly, cutting the woman off. ”I think I remember where it is.” Turning on her heels, she sped off down the hallway. It didn’t take long for the receptionist to connect all the dots though, and an announcement was made over the hospital’s loudspeakers for ‘TERESA POOLE’ to head several floors below where Tilly currently was. Damn snitch. She was going to have to be quick about it now.

Teresa Margarite Poole ● 513

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[Teresa Margarite Poole]

make a martyr outta me.

july 2028

THE SONORUS MEMO SLITHERED INTO TERRY'S ear like an unwelcome worm. The phrase 'Teresa Poole, please report to floor minus 10!' summoned right to the front desk immediately. Terry stopped what she was doing, shaking the sound out of the inside of her head as she carefully placed her wand down on to the table in front of her. She had been jarring up containers of gelatinous dittany salve, while simultaneously dictating the notes on her latest call-out when the notice had come. Poole screwed the nearest lid on with a bit more haste than she would typically, exiting the supply closet with her arm half into her Healer robes.

The only time Teresa was summoned like this was if she had done something terrible wrong - she very rarely did. Or, if her meddlesome little sister had invited herself on-site and was scaring the clerical staff - she very often did. Terry buttoned her sky blue robes up to the throat, and tucked away her wand. Better if Tilly was caught doing something terrible, that Terry could use the authority of her robes to help lessen the blow. She took the stairs down, luckily only a few up from where she suspected she knew Tilly was heading.

In fact, Terry could very nearly hear the hurried pattering of feet just a few floors above her head, as Terry reached the door to the lower floors and stopped to peek her head up through the loop of the staircase. A small hand gripping the banister as they tried to sprint down 10 flights of stairs. Terry sighed in breathless exasperation, but carefully crept to the doorway, exiting onto the floor and pressing her back behind where it would fly open when Tilly arrived. Terry had known she'd avoid the elevator, probably assuming that Terry would look their first. She pressed herself flat, eyes skimming the length of the quiet corridor as she counted to 17 before the wooden door flew open and a body launched itself through with excitable haste.

Terry lurched forward, barely avoiding a shoulder full of the heavy exit door as she clamped a hand down on the fleeing shoulder. "Not so fast, weasel!" Terry exclaimed, pulling them both to a full stop and peering over Tilly's shoulder. The visitors pass hung like a badge of honour on her chest. Pinned with such careless ease that Terry wondered if Tilly knew what it meant to be a 'visitor' at her work place. With a breathless little laugh at the sheer audacity, she reached around and snatched the pass straight from her chest. "Did you even plan to tell me you were here this time?" Terry asked with a severe stare. 

mathilde manon poole

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Down and down Tilly went, her feet practically sliding from step to step as she bounded towards the basement levels and where the morgue was. At every landing, she jumped, using the railing as an anchor while swinging herself around to the next set of stairs. If she fell and hurt herself, she was luckily in the best place ever to completely bite it. Having world-class medical treatment by her sister’s colleagues worked for her. And a little blood spilt to see a dead body was worth it. Speaking of being caught, she really didn’t care if she was or not. Her frantic sprint wasn’t met with any resistance though. Tilly knew she didn’t have long until her older sister was on the prowl. Only one announcement went out, meaning Terry more than likely knew exactly what was going on.

Finally, Tilly felt her feet hit the platform for the tenth basement level. She had made it! Shoving the door open with a force that she only ever used when vying over a loose quaffle. A claw like grip clamped down on her shoulder just as she passed through the threshold of the door. Tilly’s first thought was that one of the bodies in the morgue had become a zombie and was about to take a chomp out of her. She’d been watching far too many horror flicks over her summer break. Mostly to hype herself up over the possible gore she could witness in St. Mungo’s.

The voice that followed the painful grip made her stop instantly. ”Fuck,” she swore. Terry had captured her. She scrunched her nose up at her sister, giving her a once over. The official mediwitch robes weren’t flattering at all. She’d made that much clear over the last few years to her sister. The removal of her visitor’s pass sealed the deal that she was definitely in trouble. ”No,” she answered indignantly. ”Would you have let me come if I had?”

Teresa Margarite Poole ● 327

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[Teresa Margarite Poole]

make a martyr outta me.

july 2028

THE EXPRESSION ON TILLY'S FACE WHEN SHE turned her face up to Terry was not unfamiliar. Scrunched up nose, pouted out bottom lip. It was the expression of a thwarted ploy. She didn't always get caught, right enough, but that was a different face entirely. One Tilly knew spelled imminent disaster, or death - sometimes, both.

"Mm-hm," Terry hummed knowingly, pulling Tilly back until they were standing near the exit door once again. "My thoughts exactly when I get a memo telling me to get to the morgue, stat." She smiled thinly at her little sister. Her morbid curiosity used to be cute. A childhood of presents of pinned butterflies, and spiders preserved in crystal clear resin. Then it was the Anatomy Museum twice a year, and 'how much skin could cover a Quidditch pitch?', and suddenly it was more of a problem, than a victimless hobby.

"Actually... probably." Terry answered with a huff, letting Tilly go in favour of crossing her arms over her chest. Terry sort of hoped Tilly's morbid curiosity would fade as she got older. In reality, it seemed to grow only more elaborate. Terry was caught translating letters home from Hogwarts for their parents, who thought the whole 'owl post' malarky was such a quaint addition to their logical mindsets. Eventually, Terry just stopped telling them what was in the letters at all, attending the subsequent meetings by herself instead.

"I told you if there's something you want to see, I would try and make it happen." Terry said slowly, spelling it out for Tilly so that it might sink in this time. "Everything doesn't have to be some great big stealthy adventure." Terry declared, knowing that she sounded like a big dull dud as she did. "It has to be safe, there are a lot of things here that you just shouldn't see." And suddenly, Terry realised she had said the absolute worst thing ever for a mind as curious as Tilly's. 

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”Well, if I was actually dead, I’d doubt they’d send it over the loudspeakers,” she rolled her eyes at her sister. She tried to shake herself free but knew she deserved it for being caught. ”And anyways, going out where my body was still in one piece is so boring. I’d much rather have my guts scooped into a water pail after being scattered across the Quidditch pitch. Or maybe a violent explosion from a spell gone wrong.” Terry would have no problem with imagining either of those things, which was exactly why she put it into her sister’s head now. The only sad part would be leaving Squeaks behind. But he’d figure out a way to fend for himself. He was a smart rat.

The sharp pain of disappointment as her sister said that she probably would have allowed her to go to the morgue if she’d asked in advance killed Tilly. Even if it wasn’t true, and Terry was only saying it to make her feel bad, there was still the chance. She knew she’d never be able to see an actual dead body that way though. Only by sneaking in herself would she ever manage that. ”Uh-huh. Sure.” She wasn’t convinced.

”Why not? It’s more fun this way. And I got my exercise in for the day. I literally just ran down ten flights of stairs in like, a minute. Mum and dad won’t have to hear me complaining about not being able to get on my broom now,” Tilly explained. Her eyes perked up at the comment about there being other things in the hospital that she wasn’t supposed to see. Something more impressive than a dead body? She admittedly didn’t know too much about the other wards, only ever focusing on the one that she held so closely to her unfortunately still beating heart. ”Like what?” she asked quickly.

Teresa Margarite Poole ● 314

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

[Teresa Margarite Poole]

make a martyr outta me.

july 2028

WITH A HEAVY HUFF OF FRUSTRATION, TERRY refrained from pulling on her hair as Tilly missed the point entirely. "I wasn't talking about you being dead." She allowed herself the great relief of rolling her eyes at Tilly's theatrics. She had a way of twisting Terry's words to fit her morbid narrative, but Terry had tired of humouring the odd little cogs in her little sister's brain. "Okay, well-" Terry pulled Tilly aside and pursed her mouth. "That'll have to wait for another day, I'm afraid." She said, expression deadpan. Entirely unconvinced, Tilly was heading straight toward a sulk as she stared at Terry dubiously.

Clicking her teeth, Terry bent her head low to catch Tilly's full attention. "St. Mungo's is a teaching hospital, too, you know." She clarified, widening her eyes to emphasise her point. "I might not get you front and centre, but I could get you a behind the scenes sneak peek." This was a stretch as best, but Terry still wasn't convinced her sister wouldn't just book it toward the nearest heavy steel door and try her luck the next time a robed worker opened a promising door.

"Well, I had to run down four, and I'm quite upset about it." Terry muttered dryly, brushing off Tilly's twisted sense of humour as she continued to scan the hallway for earwigs, or a Healer who might just turn the wrong corner and find her manhandling her little sister back into the staircase if she happened to try. Unfortunately, her loose tongue had piqued Tilly's interest and she felt the press of her shoulder as she leaned in eagerly close.

"No, I'm not telling you-" Terry held up her hands and lifted her head stubbornly. "Privileges revoked for going rogue!" She declared, turning her back slightly, but listening carefully for a sign that Tilly would do a runner. "You made me sweaty, and look ridiculous." She pulled at the tight collar of her St. Mungo's robes, expecting at least marginal begging before she gave in and allowed Tilly another inch of leeway. 

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Watching the exhausted acceptance play across her family members’ faces while spouting all sorts of macabre nonsense was one of her favorite things ever. Half the time it was for the shock value; she didn’t actually mean it. That was sort of what she was doing right now with her sister, though she knew Terry could handle it. The freaky stuff she probably got to see on a daily basis…what a dream that was. It was unfortunate that Tilly had zero interest in actually helping others, otherwise she would have been an incredibly decent healer. Too much time would have been spent asking prying questions about injuries or taking photos of gore. ”I’m just saying. I was definitely safer at Beauxbatons. I don’t think they could have handled me for three more years though,” Tilly stated. She only got in trouble a few times for raiding the Potions storage, looking for pickled bat wings and lizard eyeballs.

Blah blah blah. Tilly had heard this spiel before about St. Mungo’s and the teaching they did and how Terry could help with her visitors pass. She learned to tune this part of the reprimanding out. Because she’d only heard it half a dozen times over the last year. Every time she tried to sneak her way into the hospital like this, it ended up relatively similar. At this point, she doubted that even if she did ask politely, Terry would allow it or set something up. And not to the degree that she wanted. Because they both knew what she desired here. It was cold, stiff, and was as dead as dead could be.

”Ten is more than four you know,” Tilly said defiantly. Countering everything seemed the right thing to do currently. Teenage rebellion, or whatever. She was more interested in where her older sister was about to go before cutting herself off. Tilly was released but didn’t fall for the false sense of freedom. There were a million and one ways her sister could catch her again and unfortunately Terry also knew what the end goal was for today. Even if she did manage to get into the morgue, she would never be able to pry open the cold storage in time. ”Those robes are ridiculous in general,” she rolled her eyes. If she wasn’t going to get her way today, then she was going to be indignant about it.

Teresa Margarite Poole ● 400

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

[Teresa Margarite Poole]

make a martyr outta me.

july 2028

TILLY RATTLED ON WITH NO HINT OF REMORSE nor inclination that she was going to back off her venture. Terry had to watch, and impatiently listen, while privately agreeing that Tilly was probably right. Beauxbaton certainly couldn't have handled her for another three years. Another six months was likely pushing it, but they made-do. And Terry only received a handful of very concerned messages about 'decorum' and 'lady's attitude'. This, she did not mention to Tilly.

"Oh, is it?" Terry said, her voice pitching higher in sarcasm as she lifted her brows at her little sister and sent her a very unamused look. "I'm awfully glad you can count." Ten was certainly more than four, but it didn't feel like it when one was running out of necessity. Pulling at her robes as if they fit too tight, she paused briefly as Tilly tore into them once again. She wasn't even being particularly mean about, merely factual. Terry ran a restless hand down the front and huffed quietly. "So you keep telling me, Tills." She grumbled, a little red around the collar. "Unfortunately, it's the only thing standing between you and a windowless room int he Janus Thickey ward."

Marching back towards her sister, she placed a hand on her shoulder and moved her back towards the staircase pointedly. "Look, let's go a couple flights up." She reasoned, knowing it was a stretch, but figuring it was worth a shot. "I'll ask Healer Thomas if there's anybody on the in Spell Damage who want to show off their war wounds." Terry didn't particularly like it, but if she framed the visit as entirely education-based, she might stop Tilly from creating her own brand of chaos in her absence. 

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NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[mathilde manon poole]

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”See, I did learn something at school,” she said proudly in response. In actuality, her grades were perfectly fine. Were they lower than they could be because she spent quite a bit of her time trying to play Quidditch? Yes, and she saw nothing wrong with that. Extracurriculars built more well-rounded students though. Everyone knew that. The only numbers she would need to know if she went pro was however many thousands of galleons she was going to get paid. She had zero empirical data on that, of course, but she’d make it work when it came down to it. Sell her likeness and sign a bunch of autographs at Quality Quidditch Supplies. Or something. All that mattered to her right now was seeing a dead body, and Terry was getting in the way of that.

The only reason she kept bringing up the robes was because they were horrendous to look at it. Stiff and starchy, and sort of like a giant blue dildo. Which was funny considering her sister was giving her a hard time right now too. ”Merlin Teresa, I’ve got brain damage, not permanent spell damage. We’ve been over this before. You know I’d talk their ears off up there and get the boot all in the same day.” She purposely used her sister’s full name to drive the point home. Showing her annoyance in the small ways was always entertaining.

Terry’s grip returned on her shoulder, and she finally relented. There was no way she could realistically get to the morgue now unless she knocked her sister out and bolted for it. By that point, someone else would more than likely come along and see the aftermath. And Tilly really didn’t want to get hauled off for assaulting her sister. That was messed up. ”No, it’s alright. Those aren’t fun at all,” she looked down at her feet. ”Having them look back at you is sort of creepy, you know?”

Teresa Margarite Poole ● 325

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0