Jack Trier
 | ||
| Jack Trier | ||
| Full name | Jack Aaron Trier | |
|---|---|---|
| Born | 2 December 1927 | |
| Birthplace | Belfast, Northern Ireland | |
| Residence | St. Mungo's (West Wing) | |
| Nationality | Irish | |
| Blood Status | Muggleborn | |
| Parents | Agatha Trier, Mathias Trier (muggles, both lost in time warp) | |
| Siblings | Kenny Trier (muggle, lost in time warp) | |
| Wand | Beech, 12 inches, Unicorn tail hair, hard | |
Biography
ORPHAN JOURNAL - Jack Trier
5 October 1937
A child was caught stealing yesterday. According to the police had he taken a bread, cheese and a few apples from a store down in London, but a guard had caught him at it. When the boy realized he'd been discovered had he made a run for it, and apparently it had been quite a chase - the boy is quick on his feet. He was stopped when he hit a dead end and brought to the station where he stayed overnight because they were unable to get any information from him as to where he's from or who his parents were. The police called us in for help because they can't keep a child at the police station, and hoping that we might get him to talk. He remained silent, avoiding their gazes, until they asked him where he lived. Nowhere, did he say then.
Jack arrived here this morning and has made little conversation, although he seems to have the curiosity of a healthy child. Sometimes he looks like he wants to join the other children at play, but at the same time he's holding back. I took him aside for a talk.
It took him a moment's hesitation to answer most of my questions, as if he has something to hide or that he don't trust us. It's hard to say. He said he's been living on the street since New Years, and that he got to London by sneaking onto a boat. He talks with an Irish accent, and when I asked him where he was from, he confirmed that he's come from Belfast. When I asked whether he was running away from someone, perhaps his parents, he just shook his head. When I asked where his parents are he shrugged. And that was all of today's conversation.
10 October 1937
Jack has named his parents Mathias and Agatha Trier after several attempt of getting the information from him. The police is communication with the Irish police, looking for said parents in Belfast. We've also got a confirmation from Jack that he's ten years old - his birthday is in December. He does, however, claim to have been born in 1965. When I told him it would likely be closer to 1927 he became very upset.
25 October 1937
Jack is now communicating lightly with the children around him. He seems very friendly to the other children, but at the same time he seems to be holding back.
The Irish police claims there are none by the names of Mathias and Agatha Trier in Belfast. Either is Jack making up stories or he's afraid of going back. We're thinking of having him talk to a qualified psychologist.
13 November 1937
Jack is still kept to himself when it comes to the adults. He's been talking to some of the children though. While he's found friends in some, others are accusing him of telling lies. Gabriel claims he's talked of a brother called Kenny, and that his parents and brother all disappeared. He also claims he's able to travel through time, but that he doesn't know how to get back to where he started. It is becoming clear to us that he may be suffering under some serious delusions. He seems to have an over active brain when it comes to making up stories. We're not sure whether it is good keeping him around the other children when he is like this.
29 November 1937
The psychologist claims Jack doesn't talk much, and when he does our suspicions seems only to be confirmed. The psychologist also says the reason he doesn't talk to adults may be that he knows we'll see through his lies. He stubbornly holds on to his parents' names and his birthdate of 1965.
2 December 1937
It's Jack's 11th birthday and he seems happy!
It warms my heart. He doesn't seem a bad boy. It's just so hard to understand why he goes around telling lies all the time. I think he may have a big need for attention. The psychologist also said this.
9 January 1938
Jack seems to be growing close to Alice Porter especially, and a number of other children. We're warned them not to take everything that he says seriously. And to get a better picture of what he tells them. His latest story is that he's able to make strange things happen. Apparently one of them is that he made snow fall over Ian from the roof when they were all playing. Alice says it happends spontaneously, and that he has no control over it really. But that she believes him.
We're going to have to talk to him again.
His time with the psychologist doesn't seem to help him much - now he only sits there saying nothing whenever he's in.
12 February 1938
Today Jack told me that I'm not nice.
28 February 1938
Today one of the windows broke in the dining hall. Jack claims he never touched it. Some of the children claims he did it with his eyes. He's been upset all day, and we have no reason not to believe that he's lying. Somehow he managed to trick the other children.
We, of course, don't believe him. Obviously he broke the window. But definitely not with his eyes.
1 March 1938
We can't find Jack anywhere.
7 June 1938
A police officer recognized Jack and managed to catch him in order to get him back to the Orphanage. He doesn't seem happy about it, and thin, but not as badly as when we got him last October.
I wish I knew what to do in order to make him happy.
Last night I caught him crying over his parents. I think he may truly have lost them somehow. As mentioned earlier, he really doesn't seem a bad boy, only deeply troubled with something. He's screamed at us and occasionally thrown things, but he's never been violent or turned on the other children.
16 June 1938
We've received a letter from a different Orphanage claiming that they want to take Jack in, and that he'll be happier there. A representative is coming over tomorrow to talk with us and him.
17 June 1938
Jack seems thoughtful, but calm. I think he'll be leaving.
19 June 1938
They made a short process of things - Jack has left.
He accepted my hug. I hope he finds happiness where he's going.
The streets were dark. And the shadows moved, always. Jack was pressing himself against a wall, into a corner, harvesting as much warmth and as much cover as possible, halfway hidden underneath a cardboard box. It was summer now, so the nights weren't as cold as before, and he was thankful, for it was nice to wake up and be able to feel your toes.
Maybe it was luck that had made it possible for him to survive through the winter. The hole into the factory basement had been a lucky find. When they found him and chased him out it was already early April and a lot easier to survive on the street. Jack had found out, from watching the stray cats, that there was almost always leftovers in the trash in the backyards of the restaurants. It could be filthy, and it could be mouldy, but as long as he could hold it down it would be food. Whenever the cats were around he didn't move though, pressing himself against a wall, watching the shadows dance over the walls. But in spring it got lighter too. Never had the nights been as dark as those of January 1937.
Jack had nothing now. He'd understood as much, wandering the streets for days without sleep after the night that everything happened. He'd thought that he knew Belfast, not well, for he'd only been a boy of ten. And from a child's eyes everything was grand and everything was exciting, and he hadn't by far been everywhere that he should have.
He'd found out that now.
But he hadn't known back when he was searching the same spot over and over for his house, for his parents, and cried himself to sleep, and been afraid that the shadows would jump upon him when he wasn't watching.
He was even afraid of the kittens.
He could hear their soft meowing even now, but his eyes were fixed on different shadows in a different place.
"I am Jack," he whispered, pulling at the ragged piece of a blanket that he'd found in someone's trash when it was still light. "I'm Jack Aaron Trier." And he needed to say those words, for it was all that he could hold on to. Everything else had been lost and he was living in a world that he couldn't recognize. Somehow, he knew now, had he time travelled. And he believed it because he was a little boy who'd always believed in miracles and adventures. And maybe he'd wanted to go on an adventure once, but he'd never imagined that it would be like this.
He stayed awake for a while still, for he was afraid of the world around him. And just before he closed his eyes he imagined that his mother, his father and his brother were all standing around him. And he remembered what it felt like to not be all alone, to be loved.
It was what got him through every day and every night.
