tell me, atlas.

so edgar’s a babe

who does not know he’s a babe. or rather he’s well aware that people think he’s a babe, but has ultimately come to doubt whether or not he deserves the babe title, as so many bones’ who have come before him have earned it.

if babe means ‘good person’ here as it always does, of course.

he’s always been a genuinely decent guy! he liked playing peace keeper in arguments and helping people through their conflicts  ---  not for any sense of control, but because he felt the world was a better place for it. when he was a child he loved being around his cousins and siblings and just basking in the human connection; he was always the diplomat in their games of imaginary dragon trainers and wizengamot leaders, always the one proposing that everyone get the same amount of time to race on the toy brooms. 

he never minded being more of a steadfast background guy than the main hero  ---  except for when he felt, and still feels, like a fraud; for thinking he helps all these people and does all these good things with no heroism to show for it all, for wanting that heroism, sometimes, if only to prove  ...  something. he wanted to leave the world better than he found it but was never sure if he was allowed to want that.

there was a sort of honor in knowing that everyone liked you, and that the version of you they liked was as close to the truth as possible.

in the daylight hours, faced with proof of that truth, it was easier for edgar to feel any sort of honor. alone, with nothing but the practiced distance of his thoughts, edgar wondered if, when the time came, he’d fall away from man he’d been built up to be. it was a conflict in him, this atlas effect; there was so much weight on his shoulders that there was a worry in the back of is mind that one day he would bend over backwards to do the right thing, and just snap in two and crumble. and there was an equallly pressing worry that one day it would come to pass that the world he carried was filled with hot air, and no one really needed him at all. surely there were greater heroes than edgar bones, newest and least extraordinary of the bones. surely there were greater men. 

part of that drive in him is what made him decide on becoming a mediwizard; he was fifteen sitting with his head of house & realizing that as cool and exciting as some of the jobs available to him were, he wanted to help people  ---  and in as hands on a way as possible. the idea being away from the hospital and acting as a first responder of sorts was daunting, but he knew as soon as he set his mind to it that it was the right career path. 

his heart didn’t quite break when hogwarts experienced something tragic that sent students packing before their education could be finished; of course, he felt very strongly about the decision to put students’ safety above all else, the school’s choice to close its walls until they could guarantee protection. and he was a bones; as much as the weight behind his name sometimes hurt his shoulders, he knew he could do alright without a finished education on the merit of who he was. when he went to the head of emergency mediwizards that operated through st. mungo’s and asked if there was any way he could work with them as a volunteer, the answer was yes. it was always going to be yes. 

it definitely took a toll on his energy and overall peace of mind but he never could have imagined doing anything else; even with the slow corruption of the ministry that the law enforcement offices could fall prey to, there was never much danger of that corruption reaching it’s sneaking hands towards the purely aid-driven job he held. he loved the work, and loved knowing that he’d made the right choice all those years ago. he couldn’t do everything they did  ---  bones or not, he still had things to learn before rising through the ranks  ---  but he could help people. 

that didn’t mean he never saw the acts of war outside of his time with the order: in fact, he knew that if he hadn’t been raring to fight right out of hogwarts, the minute he saw the war reach its hands towards the castle ...  seeing the suffering first hand as part of his job would have done the trick. there are some tragedies that edgar’s worked on that he carries with him, some pain he can’t unsee, but instead of souring his need for the world to be good, they’ve added to the simmering need he has to see things return to justice.

he shoulders a lot of responsibilities and sometimes flails a little bit under the pressure of it all. and then he adds a little dollop of self doubt onto the weight, and cracks and crumbles but then soldiers on  ---  because if he doesn’t, then it was all for nothing, right?

that’s another good thing about his job: he worked long shifts and ends up dead on his feet more days than not. it made it harder for the nights spent beating himself up instead of sleeping to make a return from his hogwarts days. 

he’s adopted!! it was never a secret, and it never occurred to him that his family might treat him differently for it; perhaps because they didn’t. he was loved as much as he loved his family in return. so he never had cause to doubt that his family’s care for him was genuine  ...  but it did ( and still does, sometimes ) make him feel like he didn’t deserve the Bones Hype out in the ‘real’ world. 

like with most things in him, there’s a duality of self doubt – he feels real around his family and worries that he shouldn’t when away. or, more accurately, he worries that others look at him and don’t see something real. someone real. 

he’d always been pretty bad at opening up to people, maybe because he did worry so often about being a fraud. there was a fear that every time he let someone see a more vulnerable side of himself, all they’d do was take a look at his worst fears and confirm them. growing up, it was always easier to be the shoulder to cry on, the never-judging listener, the constant, rock-solid presence. he fell into a habit with it, helping others and being there for them so unfailingly that he never had to show his own weakness and doubts  ---  of which there were plenty. it’s a bad habit that he’s yet to grow out of.

but aside from that  --- or maybe related to it  ---  he was very involved on campus. perhaps Involved with capitalization, even. he really liked knowing a lot of people and being Involved and an Upstanding Member of the Hogwarts Community™

he really loves his family, as much as he did/does feel burdened by the good legacy they left him to deal with, and in his free time at work or order meetings he could be found scrawling out quick letters to various members of his extended family. at hogwarts, he could be reliably found doing the same as often as he could sneak a free moment. there’s a wide network of bones, and they’re all prominent enough in the public eye that he worried there might come a day when they all found a target placed on their backs. the letters were his way of assuring himself that that hadn’t quite happened  ...  yet.

he’s always been very bad at opening up to people, maybe because he does worry so often about being a fraud. there’s a fear every time he lets someone see a more vulnerable side of himself that all they’ll do is take a look at his worst fears and confirm them. growing up, it was always easier to be the shoulder to cry on, the never-judging listener, the constant, rock-solid presence. he fell into a habit with it, helping others and being there for them so unfailingly that he never had to show his own weakness and doubts  – of which there were plenty. it’s a bad habit that he’s yet to grow out of.

despite all of his seriousness and inner introspection, he is definitely capable of letting loose and just enjoying himself, out of his head for a bit. it happened a lot more when he was younger; he attended many a common-room party, was always up for a good time. but even when pushed abruptly out of school and into Adult Life, he jumped at the few and scattered chances for levity and light. he loved seeing his friends or coworkers or family get married or have children, loved celebrating their newest promotion or success. the war was a constant dark presence in their lives and edgar wasnever fully away from it  ---  and because of that he was determined to keep sight of what’s still good.

he was torn when the opportunity to return to hogwarts and finish his education fell back into his lap. as soon as that 76-77 school year cut itself off with a bang, he threw himself into work, into the order. he fought on pretty much every front he could, and it felt  ---  selfish, almost, to take a break from that. it felt like something he should have been strong enough to turn down. 

but logically he knew he’d never be able to do as much for people as a mediwizard if he didn’t finish out his schooling, if he didn’t take hold of every last ounce of education. there were spells and charms and defenses and potions he needed to master to be a true help to the tragedies his work called him into. the order had plenty of other members, and he consoled himself with the simple fact that his parents wanted him to return to hogwarts. it had been a long-held truth that during this war, once wixen came of age they were thrust out of the protective walls of hogwarts and into danger. when his family had the opportunity to see him safe again, if only for a little bit, they wanted him to take it. and it felt selfish to him to want to take it, but it was easier than breathing to do it at his family’s request. 

being back at school was different; he’d forged a whole life for himself as an adult wizard and being back at school felt like whiplash. he was still edgar here, full of bravado and caring and the last vestiges of typical gryffindor recklessness that he’d never been able to shake off. he wasn’t just a bones  ---  there was no order backup calling to him by his surname, no person on his emergency crew shouting out by that alone. surrounded by his peers again, he felt his age for once  ...   and he relished in it, and he hated himself for relishing in it.