Full Name: Iris Mentha Thorne Age: 33 - January 1st, 1965 Magical Status: Witch / Werewolf Profession: Personal Assistant to Odis Meyer Country of Citizenship: British Current Country of Residence: Black Forest, Germany Wand: 12" Darkthorn, Diricrawl Feather
Overall she has a middling to tall height, perhaps making her an above average height for a woman. Hair is always short or cropped roughly, or on a rare occasion she lets her hair grow out she would always sweep it back into a ponytail or have it pinned up. For her the ideal look for work is clean, crisp and austere. The only flash of colour she wears every day is a dark red lipstick. Otherwise like the rest of make-up it's dark either grey or black. Her usual daily attire is a crisp white shirt, fitted skirt and jacket. Functional wear is her favourite, especially as there is little point at the time of the full moon to be wearing such extravagant clothing only to rip it to shreds. Speaking of shredding naturally Iris has various scars over her body, the ones that are more visible or would be are the ones she chooses to cover with specialist potions, it doesn't get rid of them but helps to conceal rather like make-up but without appearing like it has been applied on with a trowel.
Oh Iris, what to say about this creature? For one thing you couldn't exactly be complimentary about her, well aside from her abilities to file very efficiently. She's cold and calculating which is easily gathered from her plain dressing and the thin lipped smile she normally has plastered on her face. Few people cross Iris which makes her an excellent gatekeeper for her boss, stopping people from bothering him. Whilst she is quietly filing you should be concerned, because when she isn't thinking about her work she could well be thinking about how fast you'd run when the full moon was up and you were trapped in a forest with her...
Strengths: Organised, Stern, Thorough Weaknesses: Aggressive, Short Temper, Can't take criticism Strongest Ability: Brewing potions Weakest Ability: Wandless Magic
School Attended: Durmstrang Graduation Year: 1983
Working alongside her father in the potion business, which she continued for seventh months post his death. She ceased trading. From then it was working for various employers on temporary basis as a clerk, assistant, to secretary.
Iris Thorne was born on the first of January 1965, with little celebration to make the occasion. Like with many children born into extremely prejudiced pure blooded family, there was little joy in producing a girl as a first born. This was the case for the Thorne’s, the disappointment for the couple was evident the first moment the Healer informed them they had a healthy baby girl. So for that first moment of her young life, Iris was nothing more than a major inconvenience and was left for the most part in the hands of her even more austere live in nanny. It was only when her brother was born, three years later that the attitude relaxed enough that her parents showed a little more interest in her, but only in making sure she was educated by them.
She soon came to know she wasn’t the favourite, and that the only time her parents showed some interest in her was when she was studying. Frivolity and carefree life that should have been hers as a child was not on the cards, in fact Iris shunned it as much as her parents despised idle behaviour. Though it was funny how they didn’t seem to mind the trait in her brother, Thane was bone idle and arrogant and used his favoured status to his advantage to get what he wanted, and to do whatever he pleased. But Iris never got jealous, it was a waste of her energy, she could have her own fun using her intelligence to occasionally pull the odd mean trick on her little brother or simply chose to ignore him in favour of studying. There was no love lost between the children.
The years past, and eventually Iris was packed off to receive her further education not at Hogwart's as one would have assumed given she was born in England. Her name had been on the register when she was born but quickly scrubbed by her parents the moment they packed the family up and moved to Bulgaria. This occurred not long after Thane was born. The country suited the parent’s austere nature, and her father’s work in creating potions. Iris didn't care much for England mainly because she was too young to form any lasting bond to the country. The only thing she noted, aside from the shift in language, was that they had swapped a dark, Victorian Gothic abode in the middle of the Kent countryside to move to an equally depressing abode in the middle of a Bulgarian forest. The move in location therefore meant the Thorne children were going to Durmstrang.
Durmstrang suited Iris and she soon settled in the cold winters, harsh temperament of the professors and students didn't get to her, if anything it felt like she was at home. She quickly found her ground and place within her year group, friends were few as she was still an outsider for being English but again it did little to break her. The only time she felt really unsettled was the year that her brat of a brother was due to come to the school thus shattering what she deemed was her domain. Iris wasn't the caring older sister so there was no way she was going to be looking out for her wayward brother. The moment they were packed off to Durmstrang together she shunned him for the entire school year, which was easy to do with the three year age gap. She made it her mission in life to avoid being seen with or associated with him. Thane was as arrogant, self-assured as he ever was, and ultimately would be not only his undoing, but their parents. Shortly after she graduated Iris began working with her father. It wasn't a personal choice, it was just practical as Thane had little interest in potions and thus was unlikely to carry on the business.
Where the family resided came to play a large part in the downfall of the Thorne’s. The house was in the heart of a forest, it was chosen for its seclusion and for its location to various rare herbs and plants crucial to Mr Thorne’s work. Yet the forests had other things that lurked within them, things which like the Forbidden forest you left alone, and most certainly should never annoy nor seek out. Lost ‘tourists’ were ten a penny in certain areas, so the family, like others that also chose to call it home, respected what dwelled within. Respect however was something Thane didn’t or couldn’t grasp, and during one of his stupid excursions into the edges of the forests he happened across travellers. He thought nothing of ridiculing and calling them derogatory comments, believing that he had the edge over them. Stupid however didn’t cover it, especially when those mere folk were in fact a pack of werewolves, who actually meant no harm, right up until Thane came along and threw rocks at one of their children and hurting them in the process.
It was no surprising the night of the full moon that they came for the family. It wasn’t hard for them to find the boy and it wasn’t hard to slaughter him and the parents in quick succession. What stopped them though from killing Iris was a mystery that even she herself could never answer. She only remembered the screams of her brother, her parents and she herself barely moving a muscle when one of the pack came into her room and went for her.
It was a week later that Iris woke to find some stranger leaning over her, soft words spoken to her in a language that at first she didn’t recognise then it was if a switch went and everything slotted into place. The matron was telling her how wonderful it was that she was awake. It was a day or so later that they informed her that her parents and brother were tragically slaughtered, the Bulgarian Ministry were tracking those responsible. Family, distant relations had come forth (Iris strongly suspected because of the chance of being named in a will) to pay their respects and to see what they could do for Iris. Of course, when they came to learn of Iris’ condition the offers of help were quickly retracted, not that Iris was fully aware as at that time she hadn’t come round. That she suspected explained the pity, and unease by anyone that had to come into clean her wounds to give her medication in anyone that came into clean her wounds.
Iris strangely, well only by those who considered that it was strange that instead of showing grief for the loss of her family and anger at those that murdered them and the fact she was now a werewolf, was calm about it all. At the first opportunity she got she left the hospital. If she ever met the family of travellers that attacked her, she might have shaken them by the hand for services rendered, but in theory she didn’t give them any thought.
She returned to the family home, well more like her home and carried on with her life as if nothing had happened. She made alterations of course; she destroyed a lot of personal effects that belonged to her deceased relations, otherwise she carried on with her father’s work. Just out of routine. Her first transformation the following month was the most painful and scariest thing she had ever undergone. Every bone in her body had snapped and altered, skin grew and formed round the new shape and her mind altered so rapidly that the first howl that escaped her mouth was gut wrenching. The rest of the night was a blur, the sensations of freedom, cold air and primitive feelings still stayed with her the following morning when she woke up in the middle of the forest near to her family home, naked covered in dirt and apparently the blood of some innocent deer.
She was sure countless others who had gone through that very first experience of changing were no doubt scared and confused, but she was also sure that there were others that took the experience onboard as liberating. This she concluded was no doubt down to the personality of the individual, the circumstances in which they came to become a werewolf and subsequently their outlook on life. Iris now had no one she relied or depending on to survive other than herself and as she had never been the sort to whinge about her circumstances before decided fairly early on to just get on with it. Knowing full well that it was the only way she was going to survive. In some respects she could frank her parents for her austere upbringing to make her feel she could deal with any hardships that potentially lay ahead.
The few clients that continued to deal with Iris following the death of her father, when she resumed the business soon whittled away on realising what she now was. Apparently they had standards, but not about the rather nasty potions they were wanting. There was more than enough money in the family vault that would allow her to live comfortably enough for the rest of her days but Iris had no intention of growing old in the family house, with no connection to the rest of the world, even if it had the advantages that she would be relatively left alone to run wild in the forest every full moon. Even with the restrictions of the Ministry did little to bother her. Bulgaria evidently being a little lax over beast control than other countries. Some wondered or argued if the rumours of werewolves held high positions within the Ministry. After eight months Iris left her home in Bulgeria and headed out into the world.
The eighteen year old moved from one country to the next, working temporary contracts for shady characters that preferred not to ask questions and least of all be questioned. She gained her first foothold into a ‘working’ life from a contact she obtained from taking over the business from her father. The only one that wasn’t that concerned what she was as long as she shut up and did as she was told. It was through this work that she found she was a dab hand for organising files and people. Naturally, working for shady people tend to mean the jobs rarely last long.
So when work was hard to come by Iris would be forced to return to the family home in Bulgaria which she still keeps ticking over as a base, and more so as she still harbors a fondness for the forest.
Years passed and in the spring of 1990 she secured a more permanent job as a personal assistant to Victor Marlowe, whilst she still travelled around at least it was merely at the whim of her boss and not because there was some ruckus or another from her werewolf issues or from the lack of work. Naturally Victor was all too aware of what she really was but didn’t care as long as she did her job, well and caused him no complaints. Something told Iris that should she cause him any issues it wouldn’t be a matter of losing her job it would mean losing her life.
Circumstances, eventually meant that Iris moved on in 1995 to become the assistant to Odis Meyer, the owner of the Schwarzwald Black Market.