#smokeskeletonclosed

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HILDA DAGNA FINNEGAN

Occupation: Full time mom Age: 27 Gender: Female Blood Status: Pureblood Allegiance: Death Eaters Faceclaim: Holland Roden

You should have listened to your mother, that Finnegan man wasn’t any good and you never should have ran off with him, you shouldn’t have gotten pregnant, you shouldn’t have done any of the things you did until you left him. You were too ashamed to go home, so instead you fled to family in London with a baby on your hip, thinking you’d be safe from him there because you were a pureblood and he was only a muggleborn. You thought you’d be free in a war zone, but he never did what he should have, either - it’s why you fell in love.

HISTORY:

From the moment she was born, Hilda was a princess in the eyes of everyone around her. The Dagna’s were a rich, pureblood family from Denmark. For generations they had had a rumoured reputation for practicing the dark arts and toting blood purist ideologies. And it was all true. Hilda was raised in a household where she was told that she was the best of the best and that others were beneath her. A household where she was told she could take whatever she wanted, and she deserved to do so. While Hilda never felt the same passion towards blood purity or the dark arts as her family, she enjoyed the theatrics and pageantry of it all, so she never protested.

When she was eleven, Hilda was sent off to Durmstrang. She didn’t care for the martial magic that the school pushed, but she did enjoy the people she met. Like her, the peers Hilda surrounded herself with were from rich, pureblood families. Together they formed a bubble in which they could operate without consequence. Despite not having their parents resources physically at their fingertips, their status and family power allowed the group of spoiled teenagers to party and get away with antics others couldn’t. She was never the ring leader, but Hilda went along with whatever the others’ suggested. It could be cruel at times, especially when they targeted younger students, but Hilda never protested. She loved the benefits that came with her life and didn’t feel there was anything worth jeopardizing what she had.

After graduation, Hilda travelled around Europe using her family’s money. For several years she flitted from city to city, partaking in whatever lavish events were going on, before running off to the next adventure. Every so often she’d spend some downtime at her family’s estate in Denmark. Her parents always welcomed her back with open arms, adoring and showering their picture-perfect daughter with love whenever they got the chance. However, as the years went on, her family began to bring up the importance of her future, specifically the importance of selecting the right husband. It was a subject Hilda soon wanted to avoid, because while her family thought of her as their perfect pureblood princess, Hilda had a messy secret in Ireland.

In the spring of 1977, Hilda’s family began to float potential suitors by their daughter. Hilda wasn’t opposed to any of them, she was actually quite excited to meet them. The problem was that with each man she met, she was disappointed again and again. Hilda had always dreamed of being swept off of her feet by a whirlwind romance, and each of the suitors failed miserably to do so. Some of them weren’t terrible as individuals, but none of them made her feel the way the man in Ireland made her feel.

After a summer of luckless romance, Hilda left on another traverse across Europe, this time to Ireland. Rather than travelling with or to meet friends, Hilda went to Ireland alone and that’s when she met Patrick. Like the cliche of love at first sight, Hilda fell for Patrick hard and fast. He was cute and charming and made her feel alive in a way she’d never felt before. Places that’d she’d been before felt exciting and new when she was with him; he was everything she was looking for. When she returned to Denmark for Christmas, all she could think about was him.

Over the next year, Hilda visited Ireland frequently. Her parents grew increasingly worried about their daughter finding an appropriate, pureblood suitor, so Hilda had to alternate being with Patrick and going on dates with pureblood suitors she wished were Patrick. It wasn’t until the fall, one year since they met, that Hilda built up the courage to run away with him.

What had held her back from committing to him sooner was her family. Hilda knew that if she chose Patrick, her family would reject her. The life she knew would cease to exist. Though she wished it weren’t the case, Hilda knew that she wouldn’t get to see her nieces and nephews grow up, her friends would stop taking her calls, and she could never go home for Christmas again. Despite all that, she chose him. Loving him was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, and she knew that if she didn’t take the leap, she’d forever regret it.

The following spring Hilda and Patrick got married, and that summer Hilda became pregnant with their first child. When the news first broke, the newlyweds were ecstatic. While Hilda felt confident when she made the decision to run away with him, she could never fully shake doubt from her mind. What if she had made the wrong choice? Seamus changed all of that. Hilda’s worries faded away, because what was really important in life suddenly became clear to her.

However, by the fall amended versions of the lingering doubt crept back into her mind. How would Seamus’s life have been different if she hadn’t run away from her family? What opportunities had she possibly deprived him of? More than that, Hilda missed her family. She wanted to sit in the drawing room with her mother and father and show them the miracle she had created. On the good nights she imagined them fawning over Seamus and her beautiful little boy running around her family’s estate with his cousins. On the bad nights she remembered that it was impossible for her dreams to ever come true.

The holidays hit her the hardest. While she tried her best to stay in the moment, to enjoy her son’s first Christmas, all she could think about was the Christmas she and Seamus were missing in Denmark. It killed her and, though she tried to hide it, Patrick could read it all over her face. Naturally, they fought about it, which only made Hilda feel worse. And it was that guilt that pushed her over the edge. In an attempt to escape the agony she felt, Hilda fled from their Irish coast home on New Year’s Eve. That afternoon when Patrick went into town, Hilda took Seamus and ran away to family in England.

Specifically, Hilda ran to Malfoy Manor. Through her mother, Hilda was cousins with Lucius. Though they hadn’t seen each other in years, their families visited on a number of occasions when they were younger. Hilda was hopeful that their connection was still strong enough that Lucius would provide her refuge. Thankfully, he did, allowing her to reenter the world she fled from to be with Patrick. Things weren’t the same as they used to be, but Hilda began on the way to “fixing” things in the eyes of her family. At the advisement of her pureblood friends and family in England, Hilda became a Death Eater and began dating Caleb Goldstein. Though her father and her still aren’t on speaking terms, she’s hopeful that they might be one day. As long as she doesn’t fall from grace again.

CONNECTIONS:

Patrick Finnegan: Ex-husband, still loves

Silas Podmore: Looks out for her

Nicholas Chastain: Dislikes

Yoshi Hayashi: Doesn’t trust

Caleb Goldstein: Pretending to date, can hardly stand

Imogen McLaggen: Friends

Yael Odgen: Worried for by

CLOSED · PENNED BY STEPH

[smokehqs]

JULIETTE FORTESCUE

Occupation: Employee at Black Alley Divination Age: 20 Gender: Female (Transgender) Pronouns: She/her Blood status: Halfblood Allegiance: Neutral Faceclaim: Hunter Schafer

Everything was in sets of three. Three beds in matching pastel colors, three uniforms in pale blue, three sets of textbooks. So why, then, were Sylvanie and Victoire given skirts, and you trousers and a tie? It’s taken a long time, but you’ve finally figured out who you are and what you want to do: to make your mark on the world. You put learning above all else for so long and you’re finally starting to see the results, finally you stand out from your sisters in a way that you chose instead of the way the world said you did, but for what? Your sisters are gone, six feet away from you no matter how closely you press yourself to the ground, and you wonder if it’s your fault.

HISTORY:

Juliette Fortescue was born as the (technical) middle child to her parents along with her two siblings Sylvanie and Victoire. Their parents had raised all three of their children the same, so it was no wonder that Juliette had never noticed a difference between herself and her sisters. Their outlook on it was that they wanted the three of their children to grow up to express themselves however they wanted, and since Juliette had expressed a similar interest for things that her sisters were gravitating toward from an early age, they saw no reason to shun their child from exploring such things. This all changed drastically however when they entered school age.

At Beauxbatons, Juliette was given a uniform that did not resemble her sisters’ at all. When questioned, she was met with negative backlash that she had received the proper uniform for her gender, though deep down she had known that this was not correct. For the first year, Juliette tried desperately to hide the fact that she was bothered by the uniform, even going as far as modifying it to spite professors, and giving it a more feminine flair. There were many other students in her classes who were just as confused as she was on why she had been given a boys uniform when clearly she was a girl. Despite Juliette’s own inability to come to definitive terms on her gender identity, it was clear to others, her parents, and her sisters that Juliette was supposed to be a girl.

Through years of self discovery —growing her hair out, seeing how far she could get away with modifying uniforms, and trying out different hobbies and interests— Juliette had come to the conclusion she always knew deep down that she indeed was supposed to be a girl. Toward the final years of her education at Beauxbatons, Juliette had finally convinced her headmaster to allow her to wear a woman’s uniform as she identified and always had, as a young woman just like her two sisters. Ever since, her road to self discovery had only gotten longer and more traveled by.

Her days in powder blue were not entirely painted in sunshine and rainbows, as Juleitte was quite a young troublemaker from time to time. She would often bend the rules and sneak around the campus of her school with her sisters. Whilst she couldn’t use the identical excuse to her advantage as Sylvanie and Victoire could, she still often managed to get away with her own mischief. Especially considering how her best subject in school had been Divination. Juliette would spend long hours in her common room with her fellow classmates performing tarot card readings and fortune telling for those who asked, which was how she made most of her friends throughout her time spent there. Of course, while she tended to read accurately for the most part, it wasn’t fun without the occasional exaggeration or playful misguidance. In her darker times, she had been the subject —not victim— of idiotic hate commentary spewed by people who didn’t understand that she was really no different than any of them on the inside.

Juliette had been teased and ridiculed before, though through it all, she had built up an armor so strong that nothing could knock her down. Her attitude toward the derogatory comments became indifference, the best form of revenge she could think of. They had wanted her to get angry. To react negatively, or even maybe cry. That just hadn’t ever been something that she was capable of. Though she described herself as an empath, Juliette had always been able to control her own emotions, for the most part. It was similar to the saying that you can’t take other people’s problems home with you, in the sense that she never let the struggles or insecurities of someone else affect how she saw herself as a person. Even when she had gone through her own phase of confusing self discovery, asking questions that she wasn’t sure she would get answers to, Juliette had always been calm minded and open to understanding, but avoided letting other people’s negative opinions affect her as often as she could.

After graduating from Beauxbatons, Juliette moved to London with her sisters to be closer to them. Since then, she had become quite a successful young witch at Divination, and got a job at Black Alley Divination as part of her insistence on attempting to live a normal life in the middle of a war. She was always determined to stay neutral, while her sisters both joined the group known as The Order of the Phoenix. Revolutionary stuff, as far as she was concerned. While Juliette had never gone so far as to say that her sisters had no part in joining this war, it had always been on the back of her mind, more so when she had to face the fact that both of them had been killed. What were two lives lost to a war that had killed dozens, maybe even hundreds, already? What were two lives to a war that spared not even children? Sylvanie and Victoire were gone, and yet somehow, someway, through all of the hardship and struggle that she had faced in her past, Juliette was still standing.

Losing her sisters had never been something that Juliette thought she could prepare herself for, but at the same time, she had seen it coming from the moment they agreed to join this war. The first few months without her sisters had left Juliette numb, in a state of limbo that could only be described as an out of body experience. For a while, every day she would wake up, her sole focus would be to just go through the motions. Talk about it, don’t talk about it, you need to talk about it, I don’t want to talk about it. After a while, it all became so painful that her last resort was repression. Since the passing, she has refused to talk about either of their deaths in detail with anyone other than family, and intends to keep it this way.

CONNECTIONS:

Sylvanie (Deceased) and Victoire Fortescue (Deceased): Triplets

Alice Fortescue: Cousins

Emmeline Vance: Looks up to

Felix Moore: Has a crush on her

Narcissa Malfoy: Irritates

Kara Marie Kirkness: Annoyed by

Nathan Chastain: Old friends

TAKEN · PENNED BY ALLURA

[smokehqs]

WALDEN MACNAIR

Occupation: Executioner Age: 25 Gender: Male Blood status: Pureblood Allegiance: Death Eaters Faceclaim: Gavin Leatherwood

You held influence even within a family known for twisting others to their whim, possessing a charm that leads lambs to slaughter. No one is sure where your skill comes from, but it keeps people wanting more even if there’s only cruelty behind your eyes. You’re too involved in the blood and the screams that come with being a death eater to understand how dark your actions are, but even if you did, you wouldn’t care. You would do anything to satisfy that burning need with you to spark outrage, to spark fear in everyone around you so that you can feed on their terror.

HISTORY:

Walden was a prince from the moment he entered this world. To say he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth would be misleading, because the spoon was gold. His mother and father would’ve never settled for less. He was their first, their oldest child, the heir to the MacNair dynasty, and he was going to be perfect.

Thankfully, as Walden grew older, their dreams came true. From when Walden took his first steps to the time he cast his first spell, he never disappointed them. He was their perfect boy in every way and that would continue for many years to come.

When Walden started at Hogwarts, he was sorted into Slytherin, as expected. There, he connected with pureblood family friends that he’d known from private life, as well as made new friends. He seemed exceptionally good at making new friends. Even those in other houses, students who should’ve hated him for his family and their views, seemed to like him. When he walked up to you, stared into your eyes, and flashed his smile, it was almost impossible to say no.

The rest of Walden’s time at Hogwarts went just as smoothly. He and his friends had a penchant for getting into trouble and allegedly performing dark magic, but somehow it always ended up being the other student’s word against his and his word always won. Though there were areas where he felt his classes lacked, Walden loved the rest of his school experience. He loved being in Slytherin, living in the legacy of those who came before him in what was the greatest house. And whatever his classes failed to teach him, he could learn at home through independent study or private tutors.

His parents were extremely supportive when he came forward about his passion for the dark arts; it was something he was incredibly thankful for. When he had brought it up during Christmas Break of his first year that he felt his classes were going to lack the prerequisite material to support the area he wanted to specialize in, the dark arts, his parents couldn’t have been prouder. They immediately praised him and reassured him that whatever he needed, they would provide for him. They would teach him everything they knew and unconditionally support his aims if he wanted to fly higher. His achievements would only bring greater glory to the MacNair name, so who were they to stop him.

The war started during Walden’s fifth year at Hogwarts, and since the very first spell was cast he itched to be a part of the action. There was only so much he could learn about dark magic in theory and secret practice. To actually get to use it to its full potential? To get to unleash the curses he’d created on actual opponents in the thick of battle instead of animals hidden in the shadows? That was the dream. In his last two years at Hogwarts, he did get to partially live out his dream when he was visiting home, but cursing already captured targets wasn’t the same. They couldn’t cast spells back at him and the muggles ones couldn’t fight back at all; there was no risk to make the reward sweeter. The moment hope faded from their eyes as they realized they were doomed to lose - he never got to see it because their hope had already been taken away. It vanished when they were captured and chained up, and with it vanished part of the satisfaction he got from a kill.

Within a week of graduating, Walden had the dark mark emblazoned on his arm. Some felt squeamish about getting their mark; it was a permanent dedication to very strong ideals. Walden, however, loved it. For him, it was a constant physical reminder that he was now a part of the fight. Even when it was hidden, he knew it was there, and just knowing that gave him extra verve.

For several years Walden fought and relished in every second of it. He took a special kind of joy with each curse he cast and every time he struck fear into someone’s heart. As he gained power and practice, he noticed that fear began to dwell even in the hearts of his allies as well. It wasn’t something he originally aimed for, but after he noticed it, he couldn’t help but take pride in that too. Though it had a different note to it, he viewed the fear as existing in the same vein as respect.

Almost everything was perfect in Walden’s life, but there was one aspect that frustrated him, his public image. Despite being proud of what he did, he knew for legal and image reasons, most of the carnage he took joy in had to be kept in the shadows. His parents were proud of him, his friends revered him, but the law did not condone the torture and murder that he had begun to make a career out of. When he walked down the street, his capabilities were only rumours, and some didn’t believe that he was capable of killing anyone at all. The people who didn’t think him capable of murder were mostly those from out of town who hadn’t attended school with him and only knew his family from the social column in the paper, but it still bothered him. He was strong and ambitious and a force to be reckoned with, and he wanted everyone to know it. It wasn’t something he just did on weekends, it was his career, and so he decided to publicly make killing his career by becoming an executioner.

His parents weren’t thrilled with his decision, but after a couple of charming conversations over dinner, they came around, just like everyone always did. Prior to starting, Walden had some reservations about the position, which was rare for him. He wasn’t sure what it would be like, to kill without any foreplay. Or, if God forbid, they resigned him to killing animals. How dull would that be?

All of his concerns vanished after his first day. The lovely lady who greeted him at the Ministry Offices sat him down and talked him through the whole process. She explained how the Ministry was aware that it was a difficult and taxing job, that being an executioner asked a lot of the people who filled the position, and that if he ever had any questions or concerns, or if he ever needed support, he could come to her. She disclosed that because of the stresses of the job, they often eased in newcomers by assigning them animals first. It would of course not be expected of him to kill any witches or wizards until he had years of experience under his belt. The entire time she spoke, Walden sat comfortably, nodded, and smiled. When she was done, he began working his wandless magic. Within half an hour he convinced the administrative witch that she should let him skip over killing animals and immediately step into the role of Senior Executioner. He persuaded her that it was a way for him, as a member of the MacNair family, to give back to the English wizarding community - that it was only right he took on a larger load so that others didn’t have to. He assured her that he understood it was a difficult and taxing job, and promised that he would reach out to her for any support he needed. His first execution was booked for later that week.

When Walden brought the axe down, with it he brought a new beginning for himself. They had him use an axe rather than his wand at the beginning, because to the best of their knowledge, he had never cast the killing curse before, and would need some practice before he was consistent enough to use it in executions. But Walden found it didn’t matter. Whether it was swinging an axe or flicking his wrist, the passion and joy he felt were nearly the same. The excitement he received from torturous foreplay was replaced by the same butterflies a child feels when stealing cookies from the jar in the kitchen. He was getting away with murder, right in front of everyone. He almost felt guilty accepting his first paycheck, but guilt wasn’t a feeling he was capable of.

After word got around about his new profession, the looks Walden received began to change. When he entered a room, bustling conversation often dulled or ceased altogether.

He no longer heard whispers of doubt surrounding whether or not he lived up to the rumours attached to his name. There was a range of reactions, spanning from subdued panic to reverence to attraction, but his favourite were those who, when he looked at them, he saw fear in their eyes, yet they were unable to look away.

For Walden, another perk of being an executioner was the amount of time off they received. Meant to relieve the mental taxation that came with the territory, Walden often used the time as a chance to catch up with family and friends, and to carry out Death Eater related business. Though most Death Eater business had him travel around the United Kingdom, sometimes the assignments sent him elsewhere, once even to the United States.

Walden, of course, had no idea before he left, but his visit to the United States would change his life forever. The job he and his partner had been tasked with was simple enough, and they finished it with time to spare. With that extra time before they were expected home, they decided to explore and have a bit of fun. Despite the near-limitless freedom to travel that his family’s fortune afforded him, Walden had never really visited the United States before. He’d been once or twice with his family, but those were quick social visits to family friends that he didn’t really count as visiting the United States. On those trips, he never had the chance to roam around, to see what the country had to offer, or to meet any of the amazing, beautiful people that lived there.

Their assignment hadn’t been far from Washington DC, so that’s where they decided to explore first. They didn’t end up exploring anywhere else, because while there, serendipity struck in a coffee shop. As Walden entered and scanned the room, he saw a woman who was possibly the most beautiful witch he’d ever laid eyes on. Without even ordering, he went over and introduced himself. It didn’t go as quite as smoothly as normal, she seemed to somehow be resistant to his initial charm, but she soon became as enchanted with him as he was with her.

Daisy was a witch unlike any Walden had met before. Though there were many witches in his life that went against the grain, Daisy was strong and independent in a way no one else he had ever met was. She was creative and driven, pursuing fields abnormal for a pureblood witch to pursue. He found the way she saw the world new and intriguing, and it made him see the world in a different way too. Her views on muggles - or nomajs - were subversive to everything he was taught growing up, and though they didn’t change his own beliefs, he admired her for it. In his mind, the wizarding world was still clearly superior, but he now knew there was far more to the muggle world than he’d previously thought. The night after he met her, he went back to his hotel room and devoured her book in almost one sitting. She was unafraid to challenge what society accepted and was bold and proud of her convictions, and it made Walden fall for her.

As the time came for him and his partner to leave, Walden felt a pit well up in his chest. He knew there was no way he could go back to England without her without regretting it for the rest of his life. So, Walden found himself proposing and whisking Daisy away back to England, as they were two leads plucked from a romantic fairytale.

When the newly engaged couple arrived, they were met with a mix of congratulation and disdain. For the first time in his life, Walden failed to live up to his parents’ expectations. Though he intended to marry an accomplished, pureblood witch, her area of expertise and sympathy for muggles made her almost as despicable as a blood traitor in the eyes of his family. Smiles and a cold welcome awaited Walden and Daisy the first time they stepped foot inside the MacNair Estate. Everyone played nice in the beginning, but Walden was quickly pulled aside by his mother and given an explicit, pointed explanation of why they disapproved of his chosen bride. However, despite his mother’s loathing and his father’s disappointment, Walden stood his ground.

Walden’s love for Daisy was unlike any romance he’d had before. For the first time in his life, Walden valued something possibly more than acquiring power and murder. He of course still strove to be one of the greatest dark wizards who ever lived, but now his devotion was divided. He still gleaned pleasure watching the light fade from his victims’ eyes, but now he also found happiness in seeing Daisy smile. Nights he previously would’ve spent creating a new curse or toying with a captured plaything in the basement, he now desired to spend curled up with his amazing fiancée. Her conviction drove him to aim higher in his own work, but his love for her also made him care about more than just his career.

As the wedding approached, Walden’s family took a step back. From the beginning, Walden made it clear that this was the woman he intended to marry, and there was no changing his mind. Abjection and scolding only made him angry, and it was a side of him they knew that if pushed too far, became deadly, no exceptions. And so they backed off, at least from Walden. His mother no longer pulled him aside to voice her disagreement and his father stopped trying to dissuade his son by casually dropping the names of more appropriate suitors. However, that didn’t mean they felt any differently. Behind Walden’s back, his parents continued to treat Daisy with disdain, or on their nicer days, disregard.

His wedding day was everything he could’ve hoped for. As Daisy walked down the aisle in her lace dress, Walden thought nothing could matter to him more. That was, until Estrella was born. With Estrella’s birth, their perfect marriage became the perfect little family, and once again, Walden’s devotions were divided.

Walden would do anything to protect Estrella and Daisy, but he doesn’t realize the precarious situation he’s put them in. In his eyes, with each flick of his wrist and swing of his axe, he gains more power and there is no downside. Sure, he’s created enemies, but with more power he’s only better able to protect them. Anyone who would dare lay a hand on them would have to face him, as judge, jury, and executioner, and who would dare do that?

CONNECTIONS:

Bellatrix Lestrange: Hogwarts friend

Lucius Malfoy: Seen jealously by

Alecto & Amycus Carrow: Becoming close with

Mirek Yaxley: Used to date

Daisy MacNair: Married

Zahi Shafiq: Old friends

Jandira Santiago: Considering recruiting

Ewan Holmes: Former friends

CLOSED · PENNED BY STEPH

[smokehqs]

ALASTOR MOODY

Occupation: Auror Age: 42 Gender: Male Pronouns: He/Him Blood status: Pureblood Allegiance: Order Faceclaim: Idris Elba

You were called paranoid for preparing for this war. They said that it would never happen, that Voldemort would never rise to power. You knew better. Believing in people makes a good ideal, but a foolish practice. You are many things, but no one would call you a fool. You believe in justice and you believe in the law, as long as the two coincide. You’ve been preparing for this fight within the law for most of your life, but it is clearly no longer enough. You were one of the first that Dumbledore approached when he was starting the Order, and you have helped build it up to what it is. Maybe eventually, in a different world, just and law can mean the same thing. But that world has to be fought for.

HISTORY:

There were only two things that Moody took from his childhood. The first was that there was true evil in this world, and that it was his duty to defeat it one day. His parents had told him that their family was known for it and he would follow it. “It’s in your blood, Love. You won’t be able not too.” He could remember his mother saying smoothing his shirt with her scarred hands.

He couldn’t help but understand what she meant now. Even though his childhood was marred by images of violence times when he saw his father mangled and his mother casting protection charms over his room, what she meant. The fight was worth the pain and suffering, if it meant that the world was still free. It was noble and brave, but most importantly it was who they were.

He couldn’t recall the exact day he heard the news of his parent’s deaths, but he knew the feeling of paranoia coming over him sitting in the common room. They were still young, and they had died a at the hands of dark wizards they were hunting. At that moment, he could see the future, he was going to die just like them. Looking around the once comforting room he could only feel the urge to run and hide for the first time in his life. He had understood the consequences, but they were never so abrupt as to leave him without a family.

It gave way to the second idea from his childhood. That if he wanted to live, he was going to be careful. He would check every lock twice, and make sure his wand was always in his hand. With this, the people around him started to doubt his abilities. They thought he had been broken, being an orphan so young and without any family members left. They though finally the great Moody family was no more, the last of them being out of his mind.

He disagreed, becoming resolute in his studies. He would outlast the darkness, and he would outwit it. He would become a solider and more importantly a general. The rest of his Hogwarts years passed in a haze as he did the necessary requirements to become an Auror, and he became a great one.

Some said even the best in his generation, but he didn’t think about it much. Instead he focused on the whispers around him. He saw the darkness creep around and knew that what his mother said all those years ago was right. He couldn’t leave it alone. He followed Voldemort’s darkness and found the evil that was held there. He knew the other was powerful, and he knew what he was capable of.

The others didn’t. They mocked him, they told him that he was paranoid from the cases he took. Still he could see the writing on the wall and knew that he was right. He would not be caught unaware, blinded by a peace that wasn’t earned. It was almost a relief when Dumbledore agreed with him, told him to help build a resistance and keep the light alive.

Now that the world is shadowed in darkness, Moody can’t help but feel as if he’s finally realizing his destiny. He will fight for peace, fight for justice, and most importantly he’s going to survive to tell the tale.

CONNECTIONS:

Kingsley Shacklebolt: Second in command and order partner

Hestia Jones: Worries for, training

Liliana Zabini, Balthazar Silva: Is despised by

Eli Bones: Is distrusted by

Lucian Ollivander: Terrifies him

Adelaide Boot: Admired by

Rin Takahashi: Feared by

Kara Marie Kirkness: Disrespected by

Alexander Church: Married

CLOSED · PENNED BY ADDIE

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PATRICK FINNEGAN

Occupation: Bartender and new owner of The Three Broomsticks Age: 30 Gender: Male Blood Status: Muggleborn Allegiance: Neutral Faceclaim: Dylan o’Brien

How dare she? How dare she not only break your heart, but take your kid when she did it? How dare she bring a new sort of magic into your life and then not only leave, but make you track her down into a warzone in order to see your son? It’s a wonder the two of you lasted as long as you did, but now you don’t even care about the rumors she’s seeing another man, you only care about breaking down those fancy doors she’s closed on you.

HISTORY:

No one expected anything to come from Patrick Finnegan's life and why should they? He was just another Irish boy that didn't come from anything special, his family wasn't known for anything in particular and even if it was, Patrick had two brothers that he would have needed to compete against in order to stand out. From a young age, this meant that Patrick had low expectations of himself, of what the world would give him without a fight, and how could he ever think anything else when the strain of living was written into his father's bones?

A railway worker, Patrick's father was a man with stooped shoulders and grimy hands that seemed to come back with stories about deaths on the job at least every week. If you listened to him talk, every bit of railway track was laid on the bones of the Irish and maybe it wasn't the sort of life that he wanted for his sons, but it was the only sort that Patrick expected.

Until the first time he used magic.

His mother swore he'd been taken by the fae, that something had replaced her son or that some other supernatural creature was working its magic when the incidents kept happening, but all the answers came when he turned eleven and a letter showed up clutched in an owl’s beak.

Patrick Finnegan, son of two ordinary people that worked hard for their livelihood and one out of three sons, had magic. 

Without even trying, Patrick found that he stood out amongst his family and if his brothers ever wondered ‘why is he the one with magic and not me?’ Maybe there were numbers about that somewhere, some fancy person with a good pedigree that knew how rare it was that he was the only one with magic, or what the odds were that he had magic at all, but Patrick never bothered to find out and none of his family seemed to care.

While his mother once worried about her little boy being stolen away, that changed with the letter and she resorted to pushing her fingers through his hair as Patrick tried to duck away, fondly saying that maybe his father was a little bit magical, maybe that’s why he had such a green thumb, why she was so charmed by him.

The love that coated the strain in those words always broke Patrick’s heart.

Hogwarts was an escape from a lot of things - from his family, from the muggle world, from all the expectations his old life put on him, but there were some things that remained the same. He was special in terms of his brothers, but not in terms of the magical community, his parentage garnering him the title of mudblood and Patrick wasn’t even surprised that even in the magical community, his family was enough to put some sort of black mark against him, that he was less valued than some others.

Still, there were certain facts that their bigotry and prejudice didn’t erase, like the fact he had access to an entirely different world than his family and unlike his father, he never, ever had to be a railway worker.

After he went back home to Ireland, he mostly focused on trying to help his family, his ability to use magic making it so much easier, so much faster, to help do things like repair their roof and help ready his mother’s little garden, and if sometimes he slipped potions into his dad’s tea to help with the pain, well, you couldn’t blame him, could you?

Patrick didn’t consider it any sort of secret that he was close with his family and losing part of it wrecked him more than he could imagine. Three brothers became two and Patrick grit his teeth at the unfairness of it all. Maybe that’s why, when given the chance, he was so quick to let his family grow again.

Hilda Dagna was something out of a fairytale. If Patrick’s mother was ever going to be right about Patrick fooling around with someone fae in the sense that she understood it, then it would have been with Hilda. She was beautiful and smart and far too good for him, but she wanted him anyway and Patrick didn’t even hesitate in handing over his heart to her, this magical woman from another world.

His family didn’t care that she was a witch, but they did wonder why Patrick couldn’t find a good Irish girl and Patrick could tell that they didn’t understand what he was doing with a rich girl, but Patrick ignored their concerns. Hilda had chosen him despite knowing he wasn’t the sort of man her family would approve of, so of course he would choose her in return and support her.

Which wasn’t to say they didn’t have their fights, they could tear into each other with words, but they could also stitch each other up with kisses and it was always worth it to Patrick and when he found out Hilda was pregnant, that was a gift. One child would turn into more and they would make up after every fight they had and their children would never feel limited to one future, those were things that Patrick was certain of even if he never spent much time picturing what the future would bring.

Of course, he paid a price for trying to predict the future. In what felt like the course of one day to the next, Patrick went from being someone’s husband and someone’s father to being on his own.

Not because his family was taken from him, there wasn’t any terrible accident on a railway to kill them, there was some attack because of the war, no, but because Hilda ran away from him. After so much sneaking around, after choosing him by marrying him and then having a baby with him, Hilda cut herself out of his life and left Patrick with a ripped up heart, the places where she and Seamus resided left empty and raw.

Anger was a familiar friend to Patrick and it ran through his blood at what he saw as undeniable betrayal. There weren’t any kisses to sooth him, there wasn’t the scent of perfume to settle him, there was only the quiet and the emptiness, the taste of whiskey on his tongue, and it really shouldn’t have been any wonder that Patrick chose not to take defeat lying down.

Defeat because that was how he felt. Beaten by his own foolhardy expectations, a loser of his future and bereft of his other half. He was cut on the pieces of his broken marriage, but he would not, could not, lose his son. If Hilda wanted to run away, fine, she was an adult and that was her right to try pretending like she’d never chosen him over her last name, but Patrick would be damned before he left Hilda do the same thing for their child.

He sold everything. The cottage they lived in, the vase he bought her the first time he brought home flowers, even his wedding ring was passed out to help collect as much money as Patrick could be after all, Hilda had made it clear their marriage didn’t mean anything to her, so he might as well get as much out of the ruins she’d left as he could.

It wasn’t that chasing after her would cost that much, but it was after he arrived in England that Patrick worried about. It would cost money to stay there while he fought her and it would take even more money to try getting hold of his son because Patrick didn’t have any doubt that Hilda would use the funds at her disposal to keep him and bay and that meant he would need to be ready for that, he wasn’t going to be caught off-guard and locked out of his son’s life just because her background was wealthy. 

Patrick was certain he would never be a railway worker, but he would if that’s what it took. He would work on the tracks of the Hogwarts Express even if he resented it, that was how badly he wanted his son back. It didn’t come to that, instead he found a home in the struggling pub known as the Three Broomsticks thanks to the business suffering after the owner’s murder a year later, but that one stroke of lucky wasn’t much comfort.

Sure, he had a job and a place to sleep above the pub, but he still didn’t have his son and he didn’t think he’d ever have his wife back. Patrick should have known from childhood that some things were too good for him, but he knew beyond doubt that he wasn’t too good for anything if it meant having Seamus back.

CONNECTIONS:

Hilda Dagna Finnegan: Ex-wife, still loves

Leona Podmore: Friends

Omar Santiago: Sympathized with by

Caleb Goldstein: Hates

Oberon Marchbanks: Eemies, finds arrogant

CLOSED · PENNED BY CL

[smokehqs]

HESTIA JONES

Occupation: Player for Holyhead Harpies Age: 26 Gender: Female Pronouns: She/Her Blood status: Halfblood Allegiance: Order Faceclaim: Aisha Dee

You always saw the best in everything, but your optimism never made you blind. You saw the war coming and so you made preparations, you sought out those who knew more than you did, you set out to put yourself in a position to make a difference. You really do think you can make a difference, though. Your fame has given you a stage, a platform from which your voice is finally heard. You might not be able to talk the war out of happening, but you might be able to put a couple more people on the front lines.

HISTORY:

Hestia Jones was born to a large and loving extended family – her parents had tried for years to have a child to no avail, and they were overjoyed to welcome their daughter into the world as it reawakened from its winter slumber.  Hestia embodied her early spring birth, full of joy and life, brimming over with possibilities.  Her family didn’t have much, but she grew up in a small cabin in the Lake District with her father’s family within walking distance – a lack of money didn’t impact Hestia in the slightest, because she had never been short on love.  It was that love, that unconditional support, that gave Hestia the confidence to soar, to reach out and grasp every single one of her dreams knowing that if she fell she’d fall into the safety net of her family’s arms.

She was six the first time she picked up a broom.  It was a toy, a secondhand, worn out, child-sized broom from one of her cousins.  But as she picked it up something sparked inside of her – she immediately threw her leg over the handle, laughing as it creaked under her weight.  It just lifted her a foot off the ground, her toes still skimming the top of the grass; but that moment ignited something inside of her.  Gwen ran alongside her, jumping on top of her own broom; their mutual love for flying sparking an unbreakable bond between the cousins.

Hestia grew up with an understanding that although her small world felt like a safe haven, that a growing cloud of darkness was working its way through the majority of the magical community.  Hatred and an unearned sense of superiority choked the sense out of otherwise logical and kind people.  Even as a child her parents never lied to her, they shared everything they could and they encouraged her to be a light to those blinded by the darkness, to use her voice for good.

It wasn’t something she really had the opportunity to do until she was asked to join the Order of the Phoenix just days before her graduation.  Professor Dumbledore’s request was met without any hesitation – she had made her decision a long time ago.  If she could help she was going to; and she got her real opportunity to make a difference when she was picked up as the Harpies’ Keeper.  She had always had a voice, but now she had one people were willing to listen to.  She spoke out against Pureblood supremacy and the treatment of Muggleborns.  She condemned Muggle baiting and attacks on the innocent – she used her voice by day, and at night she practiced what she preached with the Order of the Phoenix.  She felt on top of the world – and even though things were bad, she knew she was making a difference, that her words could help mend the hearts of those blinded by hatred.  What she was doing mattered, and for Hestia, that made all the difference.

CONNECTIONS:

Gwenog Jones: Cousin and teammate

Vivian Flint: Best friend from Hogwarts

Emmeline Vance: Ex girlfriend, still friends

Rosmerta Dunlap (Deceased), Liliana Zabini: Hooking up

Alexander Church: Good Friends

Alastor Moody: Worries for her, is training her

Anson Wood: Old teammate and friend

CLOSED · PENNED BY BAILEY

[smokehqs]

OSKAR ALMSTEDT

Occupation: Unemployed Age: 23 Gender: Male Blood status: Pureblood Allegiance: Neutral Faceclaim: Nick Robinson

People look at you funny when you tell them you never met a muggle as a child, but why would you have? Muggleborns weren’t allowed in your school and you were raised to believe you were a better breed than that, but the first time you met a muggleborn, you didn’t even know it. They weren’t savage and their magic wasn’t weak - you’re not too sure what to think about the way they don’t seem different from you at all, but you don’t think you like it much.

HISTORY:

Like Atlas, the weight of the world was pressed onto Oskar Almstedt’s shoulders from the moment he was born—except unlike Atlas, Oskar didn’t hold the weight of the sky, he held his father’s expectations. In a way that was much worse. The Almstedt family’s reputation was like most of the pureblood wizards in the area, with an unyielding opinion that they were better than any other person with magic. From a very young age, Oskar was told what was expected of him and he knew not to stray far from those expectations. He didn’t think his parents were especially cruel, in comparison to the families of the children around him. As long as he did exactly what he was supposed to do—and he was rather good at that—his father typically ignored him. His father wanted the perfect family of four and had a very specific expectation of how his son was going to be raised. Even at a very young age, he didn’t dare try to defy anyone. That along with his family’s pureblood ideals was how Oskar was raised.

He was five and a half when his parents adopted another child. Oskar was especially excited to have another child around his age. At first, he and Lisbet were very close. She was much braver than he was and could coax him to do things he was scared of trying. He liked that and he also liked that it seemed their perfect little family was complete. For a while, everything was balanced and normal. When Lisbet went off to Durmstrang, Oskar eagerly waited for her letters, to know what the school was like. He wanted to know what he was going to have to do to live up to the ever growing list of what his father wanted from him. He knew that one day, like his father, he’d make a name for himself. It’s what he wanted more than anything else. For a young boy, having a clear thought about his future was uplifting. Oskar liked that he didn’t have to think too much. He began honing the skills he knew he was going to need and loved shadowing his father.

When it was his turn to go to Durmstrang, Oskar was ready. He was excited to meet young minds like his own. But instead, he got a mix of people. Not every student had the same background, not everyone was as driven, and not every student was content with the life their parents picked out for them. Oskar ignored that as much as possible, especially because Lisbet was one of those students. He’d always thought she was a bit more defiant because she was braver than him. But if he could be the perfect everything and show his father he was serious, what did it matter what his sister was off doing? He figured after leaving school, she’d settle down into the life chosen for her. It was all he could do to focus on himself. Oskar surrounded himself with friends that had the same ambition and drive he did. He ignored the gnawing feeling that something wasn’t right. When Lisbet finally graduated, Oskar watched from afar as his sister tried to defy those ideals their parents wanted. He watched as she fled, which only made his father angry.

Oskar kept his head down for the next few years, working harder than ever to prove he wasn’t like Lisbet. That he was serious about his future. No matter how well he did, his father always found some way to criticize him. He took every comment and used it to better himself. At some point he’d be able to win his father’s praise. There had to be a limit to his demands. By the time Oskar finished at Durmstrang, he was expected to go off and find a job. He had his heart set on it anyway. He found and settled into a job, a short while after graduation, but Oskar felt that something was missing. After nearly two years of his job, he decided he needed a change. A part of him knew that his family was broken, and he knew the reason why. If he could get his family back together, the weight and expectations would be lifted off his shoulders and maybe he could feel accomplished instead of feeling like everything he tried was inadequate. He spoke to his father and made a deal with him to bring Lisbet home. If anyone could talk sense into her, it was him. His father reluctantly agreed and Oskar set out to look for her. Although it took some craft on his part, he eventually found her in England.

England was much different than he expected from the moment he set foot there. There was more than a bit of tension in the air from the war. Initially, Oskar thought he wouldn’t keep up with all of that. He was here to come and Lisbet, convince her to go home, and then he’d go back to the life he had. It was more complicated than that. There were politics in England that Oskar didn’t understand. Navigating with the war was more intense than he thought. He made a pact with himself not to get involved—it wasn’t his fight, wasn’t his war, and he agreed that purebloods were superior. At least that’s what he told himself at first. After a few months of living in England, Oskar felt a part of him begin to change. The stories he was told about muggleborns were all lies. They were just as powerful, if not more so, than some of the purebloods he knew. A whole part of this war was about tolerance, something Oskar has just now started learning about. Although he has been living in England for some time now, he’s reluctant to put roots down. He hasn’t considered looking for a job—not when he has one waiting for him at home. Instead, he’ll just keep putting the letters from his father off to the side until he can figure out who he is when he isn’t around his father.

CONNECTIONS:

Lisbet Almstedt: Adopted sibling, went looking for them

Ivar Alvarsson: Close family friend

Zara Ivanova: Looks down on

Wolfgang Selwyn: Becoming friends

Monika Klein: Adored, hurt when she left

Oberon Marchbanks: Uncomfortable around

Falan Abbott: Slept with

Reginald Cattermole: Resented by

CLOSED · PENNED BY BEE

[smokehqs]

XENOPHILIUS LOVEGOOD

Occupation: Editor-in-chief of the Quibbler Age: 29 Gender: Non-binary Blood status: Pureblood Allegiance: Neutral Faceclaim: N/A

You’re not going to lie, things could be going better. The Quibbler’s survival is still a thing you measure in months, even as it spreads to more newsstands and more readers. There’s never enough staff, never enough money, and certainly never enough time. They offered money and you took it, and then once you started it was too hard to stop. Abridged truth is still the truth, right?

HISTORY:

Burned to death in a fire during the riots of spring 1981.

CONNECTIONS:

Caradoc Dearborn: Good friends

Rita Skeeter: Former best friends, misses

Pandora Kane: Former employee

Alecto Carrow: Detests

Greta Catchlove: Dislikes

Zahi Shafiq: Distrustful of

Elena Fedorova: Admired by

DECEASED · RETIRED

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FELICITY GRANT

Occupation: Flourish and Blotts shopkeeper Age: 19 Gender: Female Blood status: Pureblood Allegiance: Neutral Faceclaim: Lana Condor

Your grades were among the best, you always knew the answer to every situation and you were so used to being right that you never questioned who your heart settled on. When your boyfriend dropped out of Hogwarts, you followed on what you thought would be a romantic escape, but life isn’t turning out anything like what you thought it would and it turns out you’re just as good at second guessing yourself. Maybe your heart isn’t as smart as the rest of you, but at least you’ve learned what buyer’s remorse feels like.

HISTORY:

The story of Felicity’s parents isn’t anything unusual—two pureblood families merging together by marriage. The marriage was a great fit and almost as quickly as the company grew, so did their family. Felicity was born a mere year after her parent’s marriage and she quickly became the light of her parents’ life. It was an easy life, though her parents were often busy, they made time for her. She grew up knowing that hard work, dedication, and ambition were what got a person to the top. For the most part, she was a good child too, not overly fussy or too much work—as if Felicity knew what her parents would do if she acted up. Other people might say her childhood was normal compared to other people’s home life. Felicity Grant was lucky that her parents were accepting and caring.

Though as it turned out, luck didn’t exactly favor the Grant family. Felicity was young when the business that her parents ran went bankrupt. She was only ten at the time and her parents spoke in hushed tones every time she entered the room. It became clear to her what was happening when her family moved into a smaller home and she became the sole center of their attention. Her childhood changed from being happy to being somewhat tense. Time she would have spent playing and being a child was now spent studying and learning to better herself. Her parents decided if they couldn’t be successful, they’d make sure their child was. Felicity didn’t mind though because it seemed like the only times her parents weren’t tense anymore was when they were teaching her.

When it came time for her to go to Hogwarts, Felicity wasn’t surprised by her house sorting. She wasn’t surprised by much at that point, especially when it came to the decisions she made and who she was as a person. Maybe at one point, she’d been a happier, open child, but that had been driven out of her by the sheer need to be perfect. Every class she was in, she made sure she did the work perfectly. Her grades were flawless. Felicity tried to balance out what little bit of social life she had with school, but that was difficult when her parents were pressuring her to be perfect and she was pressuring herself to be perfect. Around third year was when things finally started to shift for her. The classes she struggled in, she dropped and she listened to her instincts telling her to stick with subjects that she enjoyed and could do well in over subjects that she got headaches from. Many of the professors adored her, as she was a hard worker, quick to answer any question they asked, and generally focused on her studies rather than the drama going on with her peers.

Socially though, she always seemed to struggle. She wasn’t one of those people comfortable in crowds of people—preferring the company she kept in the library. Felicity always seemed confident in her decisions, it was difficult for her in large groups of people when there wasn’t always a right answer, but she stuck by every decision she made. Even if she was only a teenager. When she started getting closer to Griffin and they started dating, she didn’t question it. He made social situations easier, made her feel more confident outside the classroom and the library. Felicity liked how they complimented each other—and she wasn’t ashamed to admit she fell in love. She couldn’t come up with a better match if she tried. The Slytherin wanted an easy going relationship, like her parents and that’s how she felt about Griffin.

Seventh year finally came around and Felicity was glad to almost be done with her education. She was eager to join the wizarding world, after being confined in the castle and at home for so long. It wasn’t really that Felicity ignored the war up to this point—she followed it in the papers. She had always felt that she was too behind closed doors to really do anything about it, if she even wanted to. Focusing on schoolwork was easier and more beneficial anyway. At least, that’s what she thought until Griffin dropped out of school. There wasn’t a debate. She followed right behind him, not thinking about the consequences of dropping out, the look on her parent’s faces when she told them, what it would mean for her prospective job opportunities. The Slytherin followed, thinking that following him would be romantic and she wasn’t sure how their relationship would progress with them being apart for so long.

The decision was met with every obstacle she didn’t think about before dropping out. Her parents said they weren’t going to support her decision. Going home wasn’t an option. Every job she wanted required an education. Even as bright and smart as she’d been, her N.E.W.T.s were important for all the jobs she wanted. All of it could have been avoided too, if she’d stopped to think about her choice. Felicity felt like she wasn’t as smart as she thought she was and if one bad decision could mess her life up this badly, then what other decisions in her life would she also mess up? Eventually, she found a job—though not one she wanted and one she felt overqualified for, it at least gave her some stability.

Over the last two years Felicity has begun to resent her relationship. Though she has yet to act on it. She doesn’t feel as happy as she once was, but second guessing her opinions on decisions is something she has grown accustomed to.There might be a war going on in the Wizarding world, but Felicity that the one going on in her mind feels way more dire. Maybe once she feels more confident in herself again, she can figure out what she wants to do about the war. Until then, she does her best to remain neutral, to not let any of her opinions shine through, to keep every single bit of her emotions tightly locked away within her mind and her heart.

CONNECTIONS:

Griffin Reed: Dating, no longer happy with the relationship

Nigel Twycross (Fled): Friends

Casper Shunpike: Growing close

Odette Vogel: Resents

Isha Bhatt: Afraid of

Liliana Zabini: Respects

Haruha Utada: Intimidates

CLOSED · PENNED BY BEE

[smokehqs]

KIRSI SALO

Occupation: Mechanic at Blue’s Auto Age: 22 Gender: Female Blood status: Half-Veela Allegiance: Order Faceclaim: Phoebe Bridgers

People call you baby, they call you pretty and doll-like and you smile each time even as rage builds inside you. They’ve used the same words to describe you since you were a child, but you’ve left those days behind even if they continue to underestimate you as just a pretty face. You’ve been told you’re lucky for being able to charm anyone with the bat of your eyes, but the urge to prove yourself as more than your blood is strong enough to choke you and you can’t help but hope this war is the change to make your true value known.

HISTORY:

 It would have been easy for Kirsi to blame her mother for her looks, the shimmering blonde hair and pale skin being more than simple genetics. It would have been just as easy to blame her father for being the other half of the equation, but things really never were that simple. Her parents were happy; they treated her well. The issues that resulted from her parentage never started at home– really, that was the only place she was free of them.

         She grew up climbing through tidepools and playing with the other children in the schoolyard, being so thoroughly integrated with muggle culture that as a child she often had to be reminded she wasn’t part of it. People would give her gifts or offer help with anything she needed– if it weren’t for her parents’ constant reminders to say no, she might have put a serious dent in the revenue of the local candy store.

         Kirsi wanted to travel, though– she asked the guests at her parents’ inn countless questions about the places they came from and the things they did, she tried to practice her English with them, and she sometimes imagined herself as part of their lives outside of her small town in Northern Finland– sometimes a little too closely, as her mother was quick to remind her.

         She got her wish when she went to Durmstrang– it was one of three her parents had prepared her for, knowing for sure that Koldovstoretz and Beauxbatons would take a half-Veela student but having to wait on an administrative decision to know if the school closest to home would. The interview with the Headmaster was the first time she’d left the country, and she was beyond excited to visit a nearby city with her parents. Her bags were packed for nearly a month before the start of school.

         Perhaps she should have gone to Koldovstoretz or Beauxbatons after all, as the flaws of Durmstrang became clear quickly. They’d decided to accept her as a student after they considered her half-blood, but there were certainly a number along the faculty who thought that a part-human student should never have been admitted to a school that still didn’t accept muggleborns. They accused her, no matter how little proof they had, of only having her grades and even her place at the school through the use of Veela charm.

         The accusations followed her all the way through, no matter how many letters and meetings happened between the Headmaster and her parents. They kept her in the school out of stubbornness, a need to prove that their daughter had as much of a right to be there as any other girl. She worked twice as hard to prove her worth, even as it never amounted to much.

         After graduation she moved back home, glad to be away from the staring and back somewhere she was known only as Freya and Ari’s daughter. She worked with her father fixing the inn’s rental boats and with her mother doing hospitality, but even though it was an easier life it wasn’t what she wanted.

         Moving to London was supposed to go smoothly, a quick jump into the music scene. She had dreams of radio time and press interviews, but she found herself uncertain of her own talent in the face of offers of modelling jobs and lipsync performances. She wanted to earn everything she had, to be beyond reproach.

CONNECTIONS:

Tamsin McIver: At odds with

Septima Vector: Distrusts

Danica Yaxley: Dislikes

Noah Warren: Finds arrogant

Remus Lupin: Admires

Zara Ivanova: Commiserates with

Rosa Lee Xiadani: Admired by

OPEN · APPLY HERE

[smokehqs]

ZARA IVANOVA

Occupation: Up to player Age: 22 Gender: Female Pronouns: She/Her Blood status: Part-vampire Allegiance: Order of the Phoenix Faceclaim: Lily Collins

You’re hardly the most blood-obsessed person around, are you? The first time you tasted the blood of the Sacred 28, you were expecting it to be special. To be something remarkable, to have any more magic in it than the average person on the street. To be something worth all the pain they put others through, the pain of the transformation you took to protect yourself. It wasn’t, though. It was as ordinary as anyone else’s.

HISTORY:

Zara was born to Elena Ivanova and an unknown suitor in 1959. In the year prior to her birth, there were many nights that Zara’s mother didn’t remember, so how her daughter turned out to be part vampire is a mystery that will probably never be solved. It was a trait that Elena discovered early on while nursing and somehow managed to keep a secret as Zara grew older.

When Zara was of age, Elena sent her off to Durmstrang to receive formal schooling as a witch. During Zara’s childhood, Elena discovered how to keep Zara’s vampiric hunger at bay. A blood lolly here, a sanguine pastry snack there, and, for the most part, her appetite was satisfied. Elena explained it to younger Zara as it being a special superpower that she had to keep secret from everyone else, because otherwise people would be jealous and scared of her power. As Zara neared school-age, she told her daughter the truth and helped her practice controlling her hunger when blood wasn’t available. Though the two developed strategies for her to covertly feed while at school, they both knew there could potentially be blood droughts and Zara needed to be prepared for that.

More than anything, Zara was excited to start at Durmstrang. One of her cousins was already there and she was eager to develop her magical abilities. Zara had always been competitive, taking on challenges wherever she could, and she was sure Durmstrang would provide that and more. And she was right. During her seven years at the school, Zara found her classes fascinating, enjoying martial magic in particular, and found a special comradery among her quidditch teammates. Though there were several close calls, she managed to keep her dark secret. The trick, she found, was not being particularly close with anyone. Though Zara had a variety of friends and amicable rivals, she never let herself get too close to anyone.

Well before graduation, Zara knew the career path she wanted to pursue - freelance curse-breaking. The job had all the allures that Zara was looking for; it was dangerous, challenging, and, if she succeeded, highly profitable. With her aims set, both she and those around her knew there was no stopping her. Upon graduating, Zara set off on her own. She travelled light and moved around from country to country at will, following the jobs that were both risky and rewarding. As time went on, the adrenaline rush from the danger became an addiction. She found herself taking frighteningly dangerous jobs to feel the same high she had felt when she started, and even though she was, to some degree, self-aware of what she was doing, she had no intention of stopping.

Her cousin, Valerija, was the one who finally did something. Zara was visiting Valerija in England in between jobs when Valerija noticed something was off. Even without Zara admitting it, Valerija could see the toll Zara’s unadulterated ambition was taking on her. Rather than telling Zara to stop, Valerija invited Zara to join the Order. She figured that if Zara had other commitments in her life, more purpose, she might slow down. Thankfully, it worked. Zara still has bouts of recklessness, but Valerija and those she’s met through the Order keep her grounded for the most part. Zara doesn’t care much for the altruism of the Order’s cause, but rather she cares for helping those she has formed relationships with and the unique, challenging projects that she gets to undertake because of the Order’s objectives.

CONNECTIONS:

Elsa Bauer: Commiserates with

Daisy MacNair: Holds contempt for

Vladimir Krum: Trains with

Emmeline Vance: Admires

Ian Holmes: Found enchanting by

Tandy Xiadani: Becoming friends

Oskar Almstedt: Looked down on by

Valerija Novak, Vanja Novak: Cousins

Yuki Yamashita: Dated

CLOSED · PENNED BY STEPH

[smokehqs]

CASSIDY RUNCORN

Occupation: Tattoo Artist Age: 28 Gender: Male Pronouns: He/Him Blood status: Halfblood Allegiance: Death Eaters Faceclaim: Daniel Sharman

You are not a sob story. You know what it’s like to be unwanted and that there’s not a soul in this world you can count on, but that doesn’t make you broken and you’re not ashamed of the dirt on your knees from all the times you fell while learning how to stand on your own. You figured out how to stand, to walk, to run, and now you’re the one leaving others because if someone has to cry, it won’t be you.

HISTORY:

Magical orphanages weren’t a thing that existed, or at least they weren’t in England. Magical children were too precious, too rare in a time of war and everyone was eager to take in any infants that lost their parents due to fighting, housing their younger siblings or their nieces and nephews or their cousins gladly if it meant preserving their family line. Or maybe they just did it out of love, out of loyalty.

Cassidy was never really sure why they did it because quite frankly, he didn’t understand it. He’d never understood that sort of family life, his earliest childhood memories filled with the sound of his parents screaming, of plates smashing and doors slamming. When it was really bad at night, sometimes the music box in Cassidy’s room would start playing by itself and so his parents never questioned if he had magic despite his status as a half blood. Perhaps his life would have been different if his magic was in question, but it wasn’t.

At the age of four, Cassidy’s mother died and he didn’t understand where she went, only that she wasn’t there, and Cassidy foolishly, naively thought they were going to join her when his father packed him up and they left their home as well.

Switzerland was beautiful in Cassidy’s mind and he remembered the taste of the chocolate he was eating in a small room as his father talked to some strange woman in the other room. He only wanted to say thank you for the candy, he wasn’t going to be greedy and ask for more, but the sound of his father talking about him caused Cassidy to pause at the door and listen in, but he didn’t remember that part. If Cassidy thinks back now, he remembers the taste of chocolate and his father saying ‘He’s a good kid. He’s not disturbed, I just can’t take care of him alone. It’s nothing personal.’

Nothing personal to leave his four year old in an orphanage.

The man didn’t say goodbye and Cassidy waited. He waited and waited for someone to come back, for someone to show up and want him, but no one ever did. At some point, he stopped answering to Cassidy because that was what his father called him and answered instead solely to Cas, the name his mom called him. He learned Swiss German and Swiss French, he learned to smile and charm people out of chocolate he didn’t even eat and learned never to count on anyone coming back. Relationships with other people weren’t real, they were only games, connections only as long lasting as a game of tag because that was the only time someone would chase him, hide and seek the only time someone would try to find him.

It was an accident how good Cas became at hiding.

His eleventh birthday brought his letter to Beauxbatons closed up with a wax seal and he didn’t feel any hesitation at leaving Switzerland for France because home was a foreign concept to him. No one wanted to bring him home as a child and as Cas grew older, he swiftly decided that emotions, or that love at the least, was a lie. Amortentia proved that, after all, and any emotion you wanted to make someone feel could be brewed up as well as long as you had the experience for it.

Potions, like most of the subjects he studied at Beauxbatons, wasn’t an issue for Cas and yet he didn’t need to have a potion to tempt people into spending time with him by the time he was out of school. He’d learned how to charm people before he ever learned any sort of charm that held actual magic and Cas considered himself somewhat of an expert at manipulating people by the time he was of age and wasn’t tied to the orphanage anymore, wasn’t tied to a country. That sense of freedom that came with knowing there wasn’t anyone that would expect him because he didn’t belong anywhere unlocked a sort of vengeful streak in him. He would sleep with people to steal their money, he would charm people into giving up secrets so he could blackmail them, he lied and cajoled and he made sure he was the first person to leave because connections were fake. None of those people mattered and it never occurred to Cas for a single moment to believe any of them when they professed to love in the heat of the moment.

Love was fake, too, after all. It wasn’t personal.

Maybe it was out of a need to hear his father confess that he’d never loved him or to find out if he’d ever loved his mother, if maybe he was the reason she died, that prompted Cas to start poking around in an effort to find out just what happened to his father, where the man went. He found that and he found a phone number and Cas had planned to call, to lie about who he was and set up a business meeting, to trap the man and talk about just what his actions had done and make sure he knew that Cas was smart, that he had magic, that he was fine without him.

That plan all fell apart when he curled into a phone booth and called the number only to be met with the voice of a young child. Not his father, but another Runcorn, one that cheerfully informed Cas that the man he was after was his dad. Cas promptly hung up.

Somehow in all of Cas’ searching to locate the man, he hadn’t bothered to check what had become of his father’s life. He hadn’t realized the man remarried, hadn’t realized that now he was the older half brother to at least one sibling, maybe more. Part of Cas wondered if they had magic, if they were loved and wanted, if they knew what it was like to hear their parents shout and scream. Deciding that he didn’t really want to know the answers to those questions, Cas never had that talk with his father no matter how many times he called the house back, learning the sound of his stepmother’s voice, hearing the well rehearsed voices of siblings as they answered the phone, one time even getting an answer from his father himself that left Cas sucking in a sharp breath before hanging up again.

He always hung up because what was there to say? His father hadn’t wanted him and so he’d been discarded, eventually replaced with a new family, a better family. It was fine. Maybe none of it had been his choice, maybe his mother slipped him a love potion and the man felt trapped and he’d never been capable of caring for either of them. If that was true, could Cas really blame him for not wanting to look at his first child, for not even wanting to claim him?

And yet despite his uncertainty over just what he meant to his father, Cas couldn’t help but think that there was someone that loved him once. His mother was the only person not to leave him by choice and while Cas didn’t remember much about her, he knew where they used to live. He knew what country, anyway, what city, and maybe she was buried there. There was a war going on in the UK, but he didn’t care. There was a certain loud, destructive part of Cas that wanted to see things burn because nothing ever mattered anyway, so it didn’t prevent him from running between countries and feeling like he was escaping a lifetime spent in a snowglobe, just waiting for someone to come along and knock him off the shelf and break him loose.

Not only that, but the song had it right. Freedom really was just another word for nothing left to lose and Cas had never had anything to call his own.

Exactly what type of closure he meant to find by locating the place his mother was buried wasn’t something Cas actually knew, but it was a goal, a destination when he didn’t have a point in life, and then the death eaters found him before Cas ever found his mother. Maybe it was anger at his father’s abandonment that made him say yes to their offer, maybe it was just the fact he thought they were too ruthless to lose and he wanted a win, but Cas joined them instead of trying to resist. And why not? It wasn’t as if he was above lying and stealing, it wasn’t as if the Order would ever want him.

And maybe that was all it boiled down to. It was nice to feel wanted.

CONNECTIONS:

Imogen McLaggen: Former friends with benefits

Nathan Chastain: Sleeping with

Yael Odgen: Exasperates

Mirek Yaxley: Strange friends

Isadora Pascal: Distrusted by

Iliana Solace: Suspected by

Gilderoy Lockhart: Admired by

CLOSED · PENNED BY CL

[smokehqs]

PIPPA STROUT

Occupation: Bartender, University student Age: 26 Gender: Female Pronouns: She/Her Blood status: Muggleborn Allegiance: Order Faceclaim: Alisha Wainwright

America is so young compared to Europe, you thought it would be fun to see a country so steeped in history and walk the streets of a settlement completely made up of wizards. You were just a tourist and you were planning on going home right until someone threatened you and triggered your instinct to fight back. They should have known that someone willing to vacation in a warzone was willing to attack.

HISTORY:

Pippa would have made her mother proud, or at least that’s what her Dad and Granny used to sigh as she came home with bruised knuckles and an A to put on the fridge. It wasn’t that she was violent exactly, but she couldn’t keep her mouth shut no matter how many times her granny would wash it out with soap for saying “rude” words. Her mom used to do the same, and she’d gotten in loads of trouble even if she was usually doing it to protect someone else.

Still, there was a fondness there. Both dad and granny missed her mom, and it would make Pip smile even with a bloody lip to know she was like Angeline even a little bit. It almost made her smug, knowing that no matter what, she was a spitfire. She admired her just like she did her dad. John Strout was a steady man and a good one. That’s what everyone in the neighborhood said. He was a quiet man who studied at college and came back to help all of them. He was a lawyer, and he was a good one. He could have been in one of those big law firms, but he instead stayed in the neighborhood doing pro bono cases as often as he did paid ones. Sometimes it was hard, but there was always food on the table, and sometimes people in the neighborhood would pitch in to keep them in an apartment. His tiny office filled with papers of cases he was taking just to keep people out of awful sentences he was well respected. He was smart and quiet and had a habit of tapping the side of her head, telling her to think through her problems. Maybe that’s why Pip never got into that much trouble, even though when she was young, she as a bit of a menace. For some reason, she kept burning things. Even as she explained it just happened, her granny kept trying to find whatever lighter her cousins must have slipped her. When glasses just broke when she was having a temper tantrum, she thought she must have had a slingshot, although she never found it. Pip was pretty sure she was about to get an exorcism if she wasn’t careful when a lady came to the door and told her to get her Dad and Granny. The conversation was seared in her head for years to come. She was a witch. She was unique, and she was going to a private school somewhere on the East Coast. She’d never been outside of Chicago, let alone that far away from her dad and Granny, but he looked at her with such pride she couldn’t help but get a stiff upper lip about the whole thing. Even though granny seemed like she was about to cry, Pippa just focused on her dad. She noticed that he was tearing up too and that she needed to be strong for both of them. She was his little fighter, and he told the entire neighborhood how little pipsqueak is got into a private boarding school on a full scholarship. She suddenly went from a loveable menace to the golden kid in the neighborhood. Something like a bit of hope that they all could do something. That’s what dad told her; it was something like the American Dream. Still, it was hard. Pip didn’t know anything about magic, and it seemed like most of these kids did. Most of them seemed to be far ahead of her, and for the first time, she had to struggle to keep up. She’d always been smart, but they were brilliant. For the first time, she realized what her dad said made more sense, and she hunkered down at night to learn everything she could. She started relying on her brain, but she didn’t lose the spark of standing up for herself she had in her either. No matter how many times she got knocked down, she got back up again. It would be what helped her through most of her schooling and after it. Especially after she decided she was going to go to a muggle University to get a shot at going to law school. However, she had another thing she wanted to do first. Taking a year off, much to the surprise to her dad and not at all shocking to Granny, she suddenly went to England curious about all the stories she’d heard about the place. It was an adventure that she’d promised she’d be back from soon. After all, she needed to be back in her neighborhood sooner rather than later. She just wanted to see where all of these wizards were so gun-ho about and knew she could take care of herself. She always had. She was only supposed to stay a year, but six months in, she managed to get into a scrap that left her in Saint Mungos. To this day, she couldn’t tell you much about what happened, other than she was left for dead in an alley with the words mud blood spelled behind her. It didn’t take a genius for her to figure out what had happened. She was familiar with hate, and she was familiar with pain, but she’d never experienced both so solidly in the wizarding world. In some ways, she thought maybe they were better, but she figured now that the type of hate her dad dealt with in the courtroom was the same here. She would spend the next few months in the hospital, trying to remember what happened and coming up with nothing. She couldn’t even send for her dad or grandma, knowing that they wouldn’t be safe here. She almost went back, tail between her legs taking a fall she couldn’t come back from. That’s when she got an offer to not only stay but join the Order. The war might be extended, but as long as it was there, she could try to stop this to more people. She didn’t think about it. Calling her dad, she told him that there was something she had to do, and although she ended up enrolling in school, her focus has been on the war. After all, Pippa Strout didn’t always know how to win, but she did know how to take a beating to get a shot of winning later.

CONNECTIONS:

Constance Corner: Exes

Vladimir Krum: Friends

Caleb Goldstein: School enemies

Phoenix Lancaster: Order partners

Lisbet Almstedt: Admired by

Rovena Santiago: Idolized by

Isadora Pascal: Worried over by

CLOSED · PENNED BY ADDIE

[smokehqs]

TRISTAN ROJAS

Occupation: Naturalist Age: 27 Gender: Male Pronouns: He/Him Blood Status: Pureblood Allegiance: Neutral Faceclaim: David Castañeda

It was your fault. You knew that every time you looked at her and saw the scars that would never fade from her skin, a harsh reminder that you failed in the one job that was ever supposed to matter and guilt formed a matching scar on your soul at knowing you could never make it up to her. You didn’t know how to face your parents and you could hardly face her, but you couldn’t say no when she asked you to leave with her. How could you say no when you had so much to make up for?

HISTORY:

It’s normal for people not to have any memory of their early childhood, but Tristan had been told the story of his early years so often that he could close his eyes and picture it perfectly, capable of imagining how Raul was always working, trying to become more than he was, and how his wife Regina was always critical, disappointed with who he was and with the role life had given to her, and it was always told through the eyes of his stepmother, Luciana. It was the story of his childhood, but it almost felt like it belonged to someone else, someone that had been born at some unknown location in Mexico, someone that had been born to a distant woman that turned a blind eye as her husband had an affair.

That wasn’t his life. For Tristan, his world was Itacaré, a sleepy town where people cared for cocoa crops and respected the sea, their livelihood dependent on nature and their relationship with it nearly religious. Tristan grew up with naps taken on empty beaches and adventures chased after in the thick woods that made up the border of his world and then the day always ended with Luciana telling Tristan the same stories over and over until he could swear he remembered being there.

Raul and his wife Regina had been unhappy with many things - their marriage, their social standing, the way neither seemed to be improving as wealth equality grew more unbalanced and they took their stress out on another. It was almost expected when Raul started sleeping around with Luciana, or that’s what Tristan was told. They never agreed to anything and Tristan liked Luciana better anyway, it was a sign when a child preferring someone over their own mother, wasn’t it?

Tristan always nodded at that part because what else was he supposed to do? Luciana was the only mother he remembered, he wasn’t going to defend someone else’s honor over hers.

So they had an affair, and from that affair came Xio, the plot twist, the one that changed his life.

The baby is why they decided to run away, or that’s how Luciana told the story, and that’s how they ended up going from country to country, finally settling into Brazil and Itacaré. Tristan had asked once if Regina had tried to come after him, if Luciana thought she missed him, and Luciana had looked so sad when she said no that Tristan never asked her again.

Besides, it didn’t matter. Regina didn’t matter. What mattered was the way Raul was never satisfied with their position in life, always certain they deserved better, the way that Luciana made excuses for him, kissing his hair and saying that Raul only wanted what was best, and Xio. Always Xiomara.

Disappearing from home to study herds of creatures wasn’t an unusual thing for Tristan and neither was taking Xiomara, but oh, it’s amazing how things can change when you grow too comfortable with something. Stop paying attention and everything changes, it all falls apart, and Tristan knew all the blame was his for the way Xio’s life changed. If he hadn’t been there, neither would Xio. If he’d been more careful and listened to the rumors, they could have left, if he’d kept a better eye on her, she wouldn’t have been there.

If, if, if.

When she asked Tristan to leave, there wasn’t any doubt for him about his answer. He didn’t know what to tell their parents and he wasn’t going to make the mistake of abandoning Xiomara and failing her again, so of course he said yes. Maybe going to Great Britain wouldn’t have been his first idea for a getaway to buy them time, but he assumed Xio had her reasons.

Besides, what were the odds of running into anyone else from home in the warzone of another country? Their parents wouldn’t come after them and their blood status would keep them both safe, or at least that’s what Tristan liked to tell himself as he struggled with a language that wasn’t his own and shut off from people that he couldn’t trust not to be terrorists. Tristan didn’t care about their politics, it wasn’t his war anymore than it was his home and it would never be his home, but Tristan tried to convince himself it was better even as he longed for sun-drenched beaches again.

Life had plot twists, he knew that, but god, Tristan wished this last one hadn’t thrown him so far off script.

CONNECTIONS:

Xiomara Rojas: Half sister

Casper Shunpike: Confuses

Nathan Chastain: Fond of

Ofelia Coelho: Former friends

Rita Skeeter: Distrusts

Constance Corner: Sympathizes with

Esme Silva: Becoming friends

CLOSED · PENNED BY CL

[smokehqs]

NATHAN CHASTAIN

Occupation: Stripper Age: 21 Gender: Male Pronouns: He/Him Blood Status: Pureblood Allegiance: Death Eaters Faceclaim: Noah Centineo

For the record, you would much rather be home, thank you very much. You miss the scenery, you miss the food, you miss your mom, but your brother has always been nothing but trouble and after your mom said the last time bailing him out of jail really was the last time, he took off. You couldn’t just let him do that, so off you went behind him just like always to try keeping him out of trouble because someone has to be the voice of reason and clearly it’s not him.

HISTORY:

Nathan Chastain spent a lot of time in the shadows of his older brother, not that he minded the shade.  After all, they were brothers, and for the most part, everything was fine in their lives. Sure, their city might have a small wizarding population, but their mom managed to get steady work and was around even if she was a single parent.

Sure, their dad had left when they were young, but Nate had Nicholas, and that was more enough. His brother and his mother would never leave him. Even if they seemed at their whist end, Nate always managed to get them onto talking terms. He was good at keeping them together. The future looked bright, especially once Nate graduated school. He hadn’t done spectacularly, but he had finished with enough marks to land him a cushy job probably. However, he was planning on staying home and helping his mom. After all,  he only bothered to finish school because she had insisted. He was planning on Nicholas finally settling down as well. Maybe life would always be a bit chaotic, but there was at least the hope that it wouldn’t be destructive.  

However, the tensions seemed to grow, and at some point, the scale tipped.  Their mother couldn’t take the late-night calls, and although Nate did his best to keep her out of the loop, there was only so many times, he could reach the floo or the phone first. There was only so many times that he could tell her that he’d come around. Mainly because it didn’t always seem that he even cared about what he was doing, the persona Nate thought he’d grow out of seemed just to be sticking to him like a second skin.

Still, he was always there. No matter what happened, Nicholas was consistently there. No matter how many times something went wrong, or he found a new interest, he was still there. Nate could put up with a lot to know he was going to be there.

The last night Nate and his mom went to get him from the muggle jail, he could tell something was different. He didn’t expect that she would be serious. It hurt him and without thinking he packed his bags too. He couldn’t understand why their mom would enforce it. Even as she was crying that he wasn’t responsible for the other, he knew; clearly, he was. Nicholas was his brother also if she didn’t want that to be the case anymore and he had to make sure he was okay.  He ran after him, not knowing what he had in store for both of them. He’d always been able to talk him out of the worst things, but it seemed that Nicholas heard him less and less.

That or Nate dreaded to think that maybe he never actually cared about his opinion.

He didn’t want to join the organization, but he wasn’t about to let his brother be in it alone. He didn’t want to be on this stupid island that seemed to have a pension of being dreary. He didn’t want to get letters from his mom begging him just to come home without Nick, but now it seemed not only like he had too but that there wasn’t a choice to go back without him. He wasn’t going to leave Nicholas in this awful place. Even if it kills him, he’s bringing his brother back home one day.

CONNECTIONS:

Nicholas Chastain: Brother

Tristan Rojas: Fond of

Xiomara Rojas: Looked after by

Vanja Novak: Feels disliked by

Juliette Fortescue: Old friends

Cassidy Runcorn: Sleeping with

Madailein Brown: Hated by

CLOSED · PENNED BY ADDIE

[smokehqs]

NICHOLAS CHASTAIN

Occupation: Con artist Age: 22 Gender: Male Pronouns: He/Him Blood Status: Pureblood Allegiance: Death Eaters Faceclaim: Maxence Danet-Fauvel

Troublemaker. That’s how people brand you and one flash of your smile gives away why, but it never stops anyone from falling for it. It’s almost boring, really, how no one would ever give you a challenge, but then you realized you were thinking too small. A person is just a person, easily swayed by your looks and bad boy ways, but helping a dark lord overthrow a government? Well, that might actually be interesting for a while.

HISTORY:

Nicholas has been bored since he came out of the womb. Hell, he was probably bored in the womb. Regardless, what he knows for sure is that he’s been disappointed in the world for as long as he can remember. Even as a child nothing was big enough, or grand enough, or unexpected enough to hold his attention. Life was predictable: have Nate follow him around and copy him, badly, then get yelled at by their mother for flicking his cereal at the old family cat, and then listen to her sigh about the consequences of raising children without a father, and then be told to go outside and amuse himself until it was dark.

By the time he got to school he’d exhausted every avenue of mischief he could find in their home city. He’d finally pushed the friendly family cat into biting him- it turned out that the eight-hundredth grain of cereal was one too many-, he’d wrecked at least a dozen friendships among the children who lived in their area, and successfully stolen at least one item from every single store in the local mall. Around Christmastime he’d even convincingly played at a street urchin and gotten a few euros pressed into his grubby hands, which he promptly spent on butterscotch for himself and Nathan. Their mother despaired of him, and continually blamed her absent husband for the lack of discipline among her sons. She couldn’t have known that Nicholas had been born that way- or at least, that he’d viciously deny having ay issues or lingering feelings about the absence of a father. One can’t have issues with someone if the someone in question was never really there, right?

            Beauxbatons was a change. The uniforms were crisp and everyone looked rich in them. He finally got to learn how to use his magic. There were whole new levels of chaos to explore. All it took was a subtle hex here, a wordless jinx there, and he got to lounge in the background while events unfolded, all of them more interesting than what was happening in his classrooms. He couldn’t even really be blamed for what people did, after all; he’d just given them a push. They were the ones who settled on a direction. He only began to calm down after his first two years, when Nathan joined him and he got his shadow back. Everything got a little less boring with his little brother around, but the lull didn’t last long. In his seventh year he took one look at the adoring way Nathan’s girlfriend looked at his brother, and wondered if she was really as besotted as she seemed. The idle curiosity gnawed at him until it couldn’t remain idle.

            Nathan found them kissing in library and didn’t do anything at all, just walked away, even when his girlfriend started crying. That was when Nicholas truly understood that his brother just couldn’t be pushed like other people. Maybe that was how Nathan was special- Nicholas was always bored and searching, but Nathan simply stayed the course and observed.

            Nicholas graduated with a black hole in his heart. It was a miracle he graduated at all, considering how often he’d end up in muggle jails on school nights, or caught after hours in places he shouldn’t be. As the years went on he learned better and better how to hide his involvement in major incidents, but he still had petty, impulsive moments of boredom where he couldn’t stop himself from doing something, even when people were watching. He smuggled in muggle cigarettes and didn’t comment when Nathan started smoking them too. He framed classmates for petty pranks. He rode a motorcycle at full speed down country lanes just because he could and sometimes it almost felt like flying, even though it usually ended up with him getting chased- and caught- by muggle cops.

            His mother finally snapped. He’d pushed and pushed and discovered her breaking point a month after he graduated. She’d set him up with a desk job and said it was time for him to make something of himself. He was dismissed a week later for setting fires in his colleague’s trash cans when people weren’t looking, and that night he was arrested again. By that point, though, he’d decided that normal life just wasn’t for him. The world was boring. People were boring. France was boring. He was going out of his skin looking for new ways to keep himself occupied, and when he heard about a brewing conflict in England he knew he’d find something interesting there. Besides, his mother had decided she was tired of putting up with the demon in her house, and Nathan was coming with him- of course Nathan was coming with him, as if that was ever even question- so everything had to work out fine.

            If pressed, Nicholas would admit that he doesn’t have any particular feelings about muggles, or blood purity, or even creatures. He went to school with several half- and quarter-veela, after all, and werewolves are only werewolves once a month for twelve hours, which is hardly the scariest thing in the world. But the Death Eaters were curious about his mind and his skills, and he was curious about being part of something bigger. What would happen if he took the Dark Mark, stood behind a legion of men and women determined to change the world, and just- pushed?

He took the mark. He put his skills to good use, charming and smuggling and lying, making mischief as a professional con in the Dark Lord’s service. All of British society was open to him with the new connections he had. He had his shadow by his side, and endless opportunities in a new country, with new chances. He’d never be bored again.

CONNECTIONS:

Nathan Chastain: Brother

Hilda Dagna Finnegan: Dislikes

Iliana Solace: Used to date, now hated by

Yoshi Hayashi: Being blackmailed by

Frank Longbottom: Had a run in with.

Wolfgang Selwyn: Friendly with

Cyril Corner: Taking advantage of

CLOSED · PENNED BY PHOEBE