#ashesskeleton

STATISTICS.

name: mercutio crouch  birth date (age): 4 may 1916 (39) faceclaim:  kieran culkin gender identity (pronouns): cis male (he / him) blood status: pureblood occupation: owner & editor in chief - Daily Prophet 

AESTHETICS & MOTIVATIONS.

Large grey sheets of papers were sent flying in the wind. Torn to pieces. Mixed with dust and ashes. He saw the crowd, he understood. His father's work, and his friends too, had fallen here, their skin turned blue.

BIO.

Was it luck, that had Mercutio unable to get out of bed that morning? Staying up drinking until 4 am was no behavior for a man his age to have, and his reputation as unreliable had been the reason for whispers and gossip.

Few things could have been as sobering as the tragedy that struck his father's business.

It had always been agreed that Mercutio would one day take the direction of the newspaper. This had been the property of the Crouches for generations. They insisted that their newspaper was a serious source of information, and recruited only journalists who had proven themselves.

Mercutio's mistake was to think that he had more time. He had studied journalism, among muggles, after Hogwarts. Although he was the son of the owner, he had to roll up his sleeves to find a place in the columns of the newspaper, but he did not push too hard to get his name on the front page pieces. Arts and Culture were good enough for him.

It was easily said that the man was not as serious as his father wished him to be. Although he could prove to be brilliant as long as he wrote pieces regarding the arts, Mercutio's nose wrinkled when asked to dedicate his time to more pressing subjects such as politics, the economy or anything regarding the current state of the world he lived in.

Considering himself a tourist rather than a member of it, the attack on the newsroom felt like a slap in the face, and a wake up call.

He who loved dedicating evenings and nights to his paintbrushes and canvases, to his friends and bottomless glasses, would now be spending his time in the office at the back of the newsroom, with a view on Diagon Alley he would never take the time to enjoy.

STATISTICS

character name: agnes louise fawley character date of birth (age): 7 January (26) faceclaim: khadijha red thunder gender identity (pronouns): cis female  (she / her ) blood status: pureblood occupation: executive assistant / secretary

AESTHETICS & QUOTE

You were spoiled and smothered in affection from the moment you were born, but somewhere along the way, something changed didn’t it? The pretty dresses and expensive gifts weren’t just to make you happy anymore, they were to keep you quiet, keep you occupied, to keep you from asking questions. So you do as your told, because that’s how the good times keep rolling, and you do what they expect you too, because it’s easier to keep a list of crimes and offenses, and have them made up to you individually, as payment, repayment even, for your willingness to go along with the schemes and the charades. And you’ve made choices, we all have, what’s a girl to do? They taught you the ropes of this high society thing, and you made them work for you, but you’ve made mistakes along the way. What matters now, is that the mistakes your making are all yours, and you claim them with pride. 

BIO

We don’t talk about ... Who?? No, Agnes, he wasn’t real, please stop talking about Bubbie, you made him up he was never real. But Bubbie was real to Agnes, he always has been, painful as it is, because despite their best efforts, Mr and Mrs Fawley never managed to successfully convince little Agnes Louise that her twin brother had never existed, and though they succeeded in many other avenues, Agnes has spent most of her life feeling like something was missing. 

She doesn’t talk about him anymore, though. No one does. No one wants to be the crazy girl, or the poor little rich girl. No, they wanted a bright, sharp young thing; someone they could tote around to parties and galas and show off to their friends. They wanted a child they could be proud of, but what use is a daughter? And what use is a daughter who learned too well the games you taught her to play? She learned the rules, and she turned the tables, and now Agnes finds herself at odds with her parents sometimes. She’s still the darling that they raised, but she’s bold for a pureblood society girl, and despite their efforts (even stronger than those about the brother business) they failed to convince Agnes that it just wasn’t right for their darling daughter to have a job.

But have a job she did; in fact, she’s had several. She left Hogwarts and headed straight for the pub, convincing Aberforth that he should hire her, and staying for several years before letting herself be stolen away by a Russian lawyer who clearly needed her help far more than Abe did. And with a pet raccoon whose services are just as important as hers are, Agnes doesn’t even need her family’s money, though it’s certainly nice to have.

A lot of things are nice to have, choices and freedom among them. Guilt, less so, but Agnes has plenty of that, stemming from her choices over the years, and those of her parents; like ostracizing certain peers, or ruining the days and lives of those who didn’t deserve it, but Agnes makes up for it now, using her powers of persuasion and manipulation to serve a higher purpose; a law firm. Does it make you any less two faced than the rest of your family or your friends? No. But are you finally trying to make things right? Absolutely.

Of course, this Tom Riddle business hasn’t made things any easier. All around, Agnes is watching friend after friend, family after family, listen and agree ... it begins slowly, of course it does, but she worries that before too long, it will be her family hearing the speeches. After all, Orion has already joined .... and so did Albion. 

CONNECTIONS:

Walburga Black: Is there anyone you’re closer to? Sure, there’s all those siblings and cousins of hers to compete with, but you’ve never been worried about that because you and Wally had a bond no one ever seemed to be able to drive a wedge into. Not even your mistakes, and that’s good ... considering you made plenty of them together.

Zaria Karkaroff: You feel a little bad these days about what happened with Zaria, sure, but none of it ever stopped you from continuing to talk to her anyways. Your parents said (and in fairness, you and your friends did agree this was the correct move) that Zaria didn’t belong, and that Orpheus was the victim, but ... you knew Orpheus, too, and you might have helped him pull it off.

Dahlia Prewett: No one really knows what went down between the pair of you except ... well .. you two. One day, everything was fine, and the pair of you seemed thick as thieves,  then, out of nowhere, the two of you were never seen together again. Mysterious given your small friend circle. What happened? Was it something absolutely unbecoming of a lady? It’s what your mothers would lead you to believe, i’m sure.

Georgie Parkinson: You've all been friends for so long, you’d think the four of you do everything together, but only three of you have careers, and two of you work in the same building – and now the same office. So, maybe, lately, you’ve been spending more time with G than Walburga or Dahlia ... that’s fine. You all still share everything, anyways, don’t you?

STATISTICS.

name: winter mcnair  birth date (age): 26 december 1925 (30)   faceclaim:  andrew koji  gender identity (pronouns): cis male (he/him)  blood status: half-blood  occupation: veternarian

AESTHETICS & MOTIVATIONS.

You did your best to change who you were. But no matter how much you try, something keeps dragging you back down to the icy depths. The worst monsters are those we bring with us. Chaos, confusion, fear- you're afraid. What you believe shapes who you are. Belief can bring salvation or destruction. Whispered prayers and empty whisky tumblers keep you from falling completely, but time is running out.

BIO.

How Winter Grew Up?

Winter Macnair wasn’t anyone special. The Macnair’s were tolerated within social circles but mostly out of respect of ancestors. Their blood had been tainted for three decades due to an unfortunate marriage to a halfblood. But that didn’t stop the Macnair’s from riding the coattails of the sacred 28. Winter was a quiet child, reserved and surveyed the world with an innocence not entirely supported by his parents. Being an only child, he found solace with animals and constantly sneaked wild and stray animals into his room. There was something sweet and pure about having such a precious life in his hands and the companionship sated his need for comfort. His attitude changed though when his time for Hogwarts came around. His parents ordered him to make friends, ensure connections, to better himself and in return, them. Sorted into Slytherin, it opened his mind to the darkness and bitterness which revolved in it. The class system and elitism the house oozed sunk into his skin and the innocence which had made him in his own sense, pure, faded. Desiring to fit in he found himself wrapped up in schemes and plans which would make even his parents shudder.

What’s Happened Since?

Since leaving school, for a few years after he kept the remaining connections and vowed to return his family name back into honor. If that meant bowing down to pureblood females and smarming up to pureblood men then so be it. He was involved in a few plans which were violent, degrading and manipulating. It was only after a certain incident, which made him snap out of the charm he had been under. The horror of what he’d done, the sickness made him revile the man he had been turning into and he fled the close knit circle. He shut himself off from them and focused instead on the one thing which had been his safety blanket. Animals. He trained to become a vet, for the muggle and wizarding world and lived his life as a muggle. With saving animals, each one felt like a redemption of sorts for his actions and his compassion and care returned thrice fold. He works officially for a muggle vets, but also freelances in the wizarding world for family pets and creatures.

How Is Winter Connected to Tom Riddle?

Winter tagged along with Tom in school. He was a halfblood with an aim for greatness and a motivation to succeed. Something Winter had been trying to emulate for himself to make his parents proud. He felt wanted and respected being a part of the clique. Even if it meant doing things he at the time, had no real desire to commit. Winter was in deep with Tom and as the years progressed in school, his dedication to him coiled around him like vines, tightening and cutting with every deed. Until that one event, which shook him to the core, which made him finally put a stop to the dangerous path he was on. It went too far, he never thought it would end up the way it did. When Tom disappeared, so did Winter and he mentioned nothing to anyone about what had gone down. But it follows him even until this day. Plaguing his dreams and thoughts. And then Tom came back and Winter began to run once more. He was being better. He couldn’t go down that path again. The taste of evil however, would always remain in his mouth.

What Is Their Motivation?

Winter wants to be better. To do better. And to live the quiet life he always truly wanted. His parents aren’t in the picture, he cut them out long ago. He’s painted himself a picture of being the kind Vet with a compassionate heart and all he wants is to save animals and settle down. Tom threatens that and like an addict, Winter knows the strength of the drug Tom releases in his personality. His desire for better is motivating him in making sure Tom stays far away. Even if that means a more permanent way.

STATISTICS.

name: aberforth dumbledore  birth date (age): UTP (38)  faceclaim: sebastian stan  gender identity (pronouns): cis male ( he/him )  blood status: half-blood  occupation: owner of the hog’s head

AESTHETICS & MOTIVATIONS.

small things add up, don’t they? you’ve never been the type to think you could do something big, never had the inclination to try too hard in school or run for some kind of office. london can either burn or save its own damn self, as far as you’re concerned. none of it will bring your sister back, and it’s not going to stop anyone lavishing praise on your undeserving brother. but you’re there in your pub every day, pouring drinks and listening. you look after your goats, and you tend to your regulars, and it makes you feel better to help people get to where they need to be. you always were a pretty okay brother for the most part, and a fairly decent guy, so maybe eventually it’ll all be enough to wash the blood from your hands. life’s all about balance, right?

BIO.

Aberforth doesn’t like to think about the past, but can you really blame him? Thinking about the past just means thinking about everything that used to be. As in, isn’t anymore. Like how he used to have a family – sure it wasn’t the best family ... and their dad was a jerk (to say the VERY least) but his mother was kind and his sister was gentle, and referring to them all in the past tense makes him ache in a way he mostly tries to avoid now. It’s been so long, you know? So many years have passed, decades, really, since everything went to shit; since his brother tended to his “guardian” duties by refusing to let Abe drop out, but Abe only wanted to drop out anyways because his brother picked his fucking boyfriend over their sister – the sister who needed them, by the way, and needed full time care – and then that same boyfriend and Abe went to blows about it. And that story? It’s a legend now, but Abe’s already been erased from it, just like he’s been erased from everything else. 

Nobody cares that Aberforth was a Hufflepuff, or that he played on the house team. Nobody cares that he duelled not only Gellert Grindelwald, but also Albus Dumbledore – and at the same time, no less, and lived not just to tell the tale, no, he lived to break Albus’ nose at their sister’s funeral – back in Godric’s Hollow all those years ago, no sir. Why, you ask? Because nobody cares about Aberforth Dumbledore. Even when you’re the only two left of your name in the entire world ..... there’s still only one Dumbledore, and it isn’t Aberforth.

Abe, though, he’s a good guy. That’s what he is, and in the end, that’s what matters, isn’t it? Actually being a good person, and not just letting people think you are. He’s got his pub, he’s got Ariana’s his goats, he’s got his closest relation and worst (free) enemy within spitting distance, and life is balanced. But that’s not what you want to know, is it? No, now that you’re over the shock of learning Dumbledore has a brother, you want to know where he falls into any of this, don’t you? Well, I’ll tell you. Abe’s owned the Hogs Head Inn – that grubby pub of his he loves so much – since before Albus started teaching, and he was around when someone didn’t get the job they wanted. In fact, you could even say he was a man, pouring drinks, ready to listen to one more teenager whine about how Albus Dumbledore was ruining their life (If only these kids knew what a life-ruiner he really was) and commiserate with them.

But Tom had been coming in for a while there even before he graduated, and then .... every once in a while after he had. The weird part about it, though, was that ..... the Hogs Head was not Tom Riddle’s kind of place. Not once, not ever, did he look comfortable there. No matter what you thought about the guy, call him sketchy, call him suave, Abe didn’t care either way, he simply knew; that kid had never belonged anywhere ever in his life. Abe certainly wasn’t going out of his way to make him feel welcome at the pub, but that never stopped Tom coming back; he always returned, ready to people watch, and ask random strangers whom he had no business speaking to random (and often intrusive) questions he had no business asking, and then still, somehow, left every single encounter he entered confused at where he’d gone wrong. Abe thought he’d finally seen the last of him, but of course, here he is, back again, and with a stupid new name.  Some people never could take a hint.

CONNECTIONS.

albus dumbledore (NPC). yeah, he’s your brother, alright, no denying that, though you’ve certainly tried on a number of occasions. funny, though, that in the end, you still didn’t end up straying too far, did you? but you always were the brother with a fully functioning heart, and you haven’t changed. you’re still the guy that people know they can rely on, and he’s still .... albus.

mary-jane warren. it really was a shame what happened to myrtle, and a bigger shame how poorly some people handled all of it, but you’re glad that she still pops in to visit, and she sure makes you proud.  you’re always going to have that one painful thing in common, but you’re just happy you can be there for her.

maria black. you never did much care for all the fuss of the upper class, and it’s not the most popular sentiment in the world to say she’s the best thing to happen to the blacks, but you’re pretty sure she is. maybe she’s just the best thing to happen to Alphard, but it doesn’t matter. what matters is that she thinks your brother sucks.

fyodor dolohov. people don’t usually get arrested in your establishment, it’s one of the rules, and one most seem to respect – aurors included – but occasionally, it happens. and if it does, you know a guy. he might be the only guy in your pub nearly as often as you are, but you aren’t complaining; you like the company, and more specifically, his.

STATISTICS.

name: mary-jane warren  birth date (age): UTP (25)   faceclaim:  alice pagani / UTP  gender identity (pronouns): UTP (UTP)   blood status: muggleborn  occupation: knockturn home security

AESTHETICS & MOTIVATIONS.

it was like a shining, shimmering light. there were dragons, there were leprechauns and their pots of gold, there were owls carrying letters and people zooming around on broomsticks. it was so beautiful. then the monster under the bed took your sister away and trapped her half-gone in that castle. you didn’t know that was what this was going to cold. you’d trade every bubbling potion and every goddamn miracle to wake up from this dream and be stuck in a cubicle, as long as myrtle was there with you.

BIO.

UTP

CONNECTIONS.

myrtle warren (ghost). moaning myrtle, they started calling her. that was the first time you ever punched someone-- broke your knuckle doing it, not that you regret it. you her every weekend, trying not to notice that she’s gone from your older sister to a decade younger.

nearly-headless nick (ghost). he helped you just as much as he helped myrtle. took both of you to her first death day party, promised you that he’d take care of her when you left school and when you eventually left this world. you visit him too, and he tells you all the goings-on of the school. maybe if people paid more attention to ghosts, they wouldn’t be so surprised that so many of them are spies.

aberforth dumbledore, maria black. they did a lot to help you-- aberforth was the one who explained it to your parents, set them up in the hog’s head for the investigation and the funeral. when you graduated, he sent you towards maria for a job. you’re in a position to pay it back now, collecting information from everywhere you can get it.

walburga black, alastor moody. all three of you were friends, believe it or not. started fifth year, when you broke your knuckle punching that brat. alastor healed it, explained it away when the professors asked. walburga taught you to throw a better punch, one that wouldn’t break your hand. you still meet them at the gym every wednesday, even though walburga is starting to scare you.

STATISTICS.

name: dahlia prewett  birth date (age): 19 September (27)  faceclaim: madelaine petsch  gender identity (pronouns): cis female (she /her)  blood status: pureblood  occupation: actress / performer

AESTHETICS & MOTIVATIONS.

child star has such a connotation, doesn’t it? in your opinion, it deserves every bit of it. there’s always some kind of light shining in your face-- makeup, stage light, paparazzi flash bulb, slughorn’s microscope gaze. maybe you really did want it. your mother said you did. you said you did, when the reporter asked you last week. maybe all of this will come to mean something someday, but it hasn’t yet.

BIO.

Dahlia Blythe Prewett. Everyone knew her name, even before she fully understood it herself. Her mother, Zinnia Prewett was an elite socialite and known for her glamour and rich lifestyle. Always needing to be front and center, she wanted her children to experience the same highs fame and popularity she experienced. Dahlia was her chance, from the youngest age it was endless pageants, talent shows and galas. Beauty was put above everything else and Zinnia wasted no time in shoving her daughter into the limelight. As she grew, her time between school was spent fine tuning her performing skills. Shows, plays, advertisements- the list was endless and Dahlia went along with it. Until she reached the age of sixteen, when the pressure became too much. Wherever she went lightbulbs flashed, her life wasn’t her own and she grew to resent Zinnia and the force placed upon her. Zinnia lapped up the attention, took advantage of the bonuses Dahlia made her. Throughout school Dahlia was arrogant, but behind the arrogance grew a hatred and a twisted, warped view on the world. She loved to perform, but she wanted to do it in her own way. She began to break away in her seventh year and by the time graduation rolled around, Dahlia was set in being her own person. 

Since Dahlia left Hogwarts, she removed herself from the Wizarding spotlight and in an act of defiance made her way into the muggle world. There she had unlimited access to do what she wanted and she cultivated her skills into muggle productions. Call it magic or charm, jobs fell easily into her lap but she loved having the option of choosing what she wanted to do. Zinnia has resentment over her daughter’s wayward lifestyle, but Dahlia hasn’t done anything to issue her with disownment. It’s not as if she married a muggleborn? Or hooked up with a woman. Dahlia detests her mothers insistence she settle and marry, but she’s seen the result in Zinnia herself what happens when marriage takes over occupation and it’s going to take the right sort of person to handle this megastar. 

Dahlia’s fame and popularity makes her the perfect spokesman and influencer. Especially for certain people’s agendas. Namely, one person’s agenda. Whilst at school, Tom was the charming and mysterious older boy. Dahlia herself was enamoured and curious about him, not entirely fazed on his blood status and even admired him as such. But since the years of Tom’s disappearance, she’s moved on and become her own person. So when Tom reappeared and approached her, with the famous charm and mysticism Dahlia was quick to cut off that rose stem. She refused, simply because she was not a marionette on a string. And if she was completely honest, his new outlook and agenda scared her. But Tom didn’t take her rebuke well and a few days later orchestrated an attack which left Dahlia recuperating in St. Mungo’s with lashes and abrasions and the threat of more to come. Although she ended up recovering with no lasting damage, her hatred for Tom is now running deep and someone needs to cut this snake off at the head before it’s too late. 

At hearing of such a meeting happening, Dahlia was one of the first to attend. Her mission and motivation is simple. Revenge. Tom is dangerous and she’s had a first hand experience. There’s good influence and bad influence. Good power and bad power. Responsibility and irresponsibility. Dahlia knows what she has and Tom is her opposite. Anger, hatred and revulsion fuels her and as Aberforth can attest- Dahlia had only one thing to say, stood upon his bar, scarlet six inch heels glinting in the candlelight. “I only have one demand. That I get to kill Tom Riddle.” She then proceeded to step on Aberforth’s hand for his laughing. .

CONNECTIONS.

tom riddle (death eater). maybe he wasn’t too used to hearing the word no because he sure didn’t seem to know what to do when you said it. a second of standing there like a concussed wombat, then he hexed you. would have left a scar right through the middle of your face, if a healer had taken any longer to get there.

ignatius prewett. iggy can take as much of mum’s attention as he wants-- you never asked to have that harpy hanging onto your arm so tightly that you can still see the marks from her acrylics. maybe if he knew what it was like, he’d finally grow up.

alastor moody. what bothers him is that he’s more like you than he’ll ever admit-- his dad just wanted to toss him into the line of fire, while your mum only put you in front of a camera. so he blames you instead, shoved your case off onto someone else only to have it bounce right back to him.

eileen prince. letting out your spare room was just supposed to be a way to keep your mum out of your flat, but you’ve come to really like leena. you feel bad knowing you could easily give her the cash to get out of here when you know you won’t do it-- you’d be so alone without her.

octavia xeep. it’s a shame you and leena don’t get along, but you and doll have been friends for so long-- and it’s getting harder for to listen to your friend and flatmate sniping. harder, still, when you realize that both of them are justified.

STATISTICS.

name: evander macmillan birth date (age): 16 January (32) faceclaim: regé-jean page gender identity (pronouns): cismale ( he / him ) blood status: pureblood occupation: Ministry of Magic, Dept. of Magical Law Enforcement - Improper Use of Magic

AESTHETICS & MOTIVATIONS.

Despite your best efforts you were never your parents focus, never their first choice as a child. You were given the best of the best as far as education. Tried your very best to make them proud and be the perfect son. You were the perfect son. But then she was born. It wasn’t that you hated your sister, because you didn’t and still don’t; it wasn’t her fault that your parents doted on her instead, paid more attention to her instead, loved her instead. You couldn’t help but feel a small amount of resentment towards her. The moment your mother took her away from you was when you decided that if your parents were going to choose her over you (even though you were the one who wholeheartedly believed in the ideals your father instilled in you) then you were going to try and shape her into someone worthy of your father’s affections. Mold her into the person she was meant to be–supposed to be. Even if doing so kills you in the end.

BIO.

Just busy. 

That was what he told himself as a child so he wouldn’t feel so alone. Evander spent most of his childhood playing by himself quietly and trying desperately to get his parents attention. While he had the world at his fingertips and anything a child could want at his disposal, it wasn’t what a child his age needed. It was true that his parents were incredibly busy people. Always on the go and barely a word to each other in between. But things changed when his sister was born. Their attention was now focused on her and she was given everything that he simply was not. Evander took notice of this even as a small child and his heart broke. Why wasn’t he worthy of attention and love? Why wasn’t he seen? As they grew, so did they in closeness. Evander and Isabella were near inseparable and told each other everything. He decided that if their parents were going to focus on her he might as well shape her into the kind of witch that they could be proud of.

Thing was, that they were just two different people. While he saw things the way their father did and wholeheartedly believed in those ideals–Isabella was the opposite. Or at least that was what it seemed. His sister took more after their mother and Evander blamed it on the fact that when she got old enough that their mother whisked her away. Never spending too much time apart but it was enough every time for him to learn to resent their mother. He still loved her, she was his mother, but he couldn’t help but feel the growing disdain every time she took Isabella with her. Why wouldn’t she take him too? Was he not enough? It was like a knife was shoved in his stomach and twisted each and every time he watched them leave and said goodbye. In leaving Evander behind with his father, he was molded into a respectable wizard. One who knew who to talk to and associate with. He made formalities and small talk like everyone else. Falling in line with the rest of the pureblood families. He was going to be the perfect son, he decided. He would make them notice him.

Once in school, he assumed things would be different. He was sorted into Ravenclaw and nothing ever made more sense to him than being at that table. He was welcomed with open arms and over time he made himself a little family. Tom Riddle, while halfblood, had the same mindset and drive that Evander did. It was only natural for the two to become close friends. His need to prove his parents (or father at the very least) wrong, that he was worth love and attention, along with his growing friendship with his peers only served to drive a wedge between him and Isabella. It hurt him to watch her go down the wrong path. To watch her make friends with the wrong lot. She was their parents' pride and joy so why wasn’t she acting like it? But no matter what Isabella did it just made their parents prouder and praise her even more. Evander knew that their father was disappointed but he still made every excuse in the book for his sister. A luxury he was never given.

Exiting school, he was given an internship at the Ministry and Evander fell in love with his work. As soon as he was eligible, he took a position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. A few years in and he got a letter from his good friend Tom from school. Tom had taken notice at how devastatingly good at gathering information Evander was in school and how he was at his job now. They spoke at length of what the Wizarding World was coming to and how disgusting it was. Both coming to an agreement that it was unacceptable. That was when Tom told him that he needed Evander’s help. He had plans and since the two had been close in school and shared the same ideals–Evander was eager to help. Thinking Tom a genius and admired him for taking the initiative to change the way the world ran.

Only problem was–where would that put Isabella? Evander decided that he would try to bring her back home. If it was the last thing he did..

CONNECTIONS.

TBD.

STATISTICS.

name: ziya padgett birth date (age): 21 June (32) faceclaim: berk cankat gender identity (pronouns): cis male ( he / him ) blood status: pureblood occupation: Ministry: Dept. of Magical Law Enforcement - Hitwix

AESTHETICS & MOTIVATIONS.

You were just a kid, swept up in false promises and the thrill of a job well done. You could trace your family back just as far as any other; generation upon generation of talented witches and wizards to be proud of, all until that one awful tear in an otherwise worthy tapestry. Maybe if another sort would have sunk their claws into your impressionable mind, things could have been different? You’re not a kid anymore though, and everything you’ve done to this point can’t simply be erased. You’re not really sure you want it to be. All you know is this time around, you want a seat at the god damn table. You’re done getting your hands dirty for people who spit in your face. Which table? Merlin only knows. 

BIO.

Growing Up: 

  Ziya’s upbringing was just this side of average. His house was slightly bigger than others, his broomstick newer, his robes far from hand-me-downs. It could have been better, was what his father had told him time and time again, but the Padgett family had slipped from the rung they’d found themselves on back when Ziya’s grandfather married a muggle woman. It had been quite the scandal, and Ziya’s own father had done little to repair it though he’d claim otherwise. He married a halfblood himself. It was Ziya’s older brothers, Thaddeus and Everett who influenced him the most. They looked out for him, sure, but they also whispered ideas in his head. They spoke of repairing what had been lost, even from a young age. They showed him that they meant it too, always striving to be the best. In school, they had immense success in classes, in friendships, and on the Quidditch pitch. Thaddeus had been Head Boy in his year, and after graduation, Everett had charmed his way to a position of respect within the Ministry’s Wizengamot. Ziya idolized them. He believed them when they said things could be different, that there were no need to settle.

 Ziya tried his best to follow in their footsteps. Thaddeus was a 7th year when he was a 2nd, and Everett had settled in the middle in 5th year. He’d damn near begged the Sorting Hat to place him in Slytherin too, and to his immense relief it had agreed. He was never as silver-tongued as Everett, or as boldly confident as Thaddeus, but Merlin did he try. He was good at duelling though, and quick on his feet. Thaddeus and Everett never lacked physicality, but Ziya surpassed them tenfold. He was athletic and learned best through practice and hands-on experiences than any sort of theory. He was still a teenager when his older brothers invited him to meet their friends. It was exactly what Zi wanted. He longed to feel purposeful, to claw back the pride he had for his family name, their legacy. At first he didn’t mind the tasks he was put to –– running errands, delivering parcels he was forbidden from opening, but once he graduated, those errands turned into something more, and the risks increased with it. 

The problem was that it didn’t feel like the reward did. He sat, sulking beside his brothers, as Grindelwald spoke. He was enthralled, until the mockery came along with it. He’d muddied his hands for these people, who turned their noses up at them. It was infuriating that he still sought their approval despite it all. Thaddeus promised they would restore their name soon. Everett reassured his worries, insisting he would understand when the dust had settled and he saw the world wide open before them once more. 

Connection to Tom:      

The world blew open, that was for damn sure. Thaddeus and Everett hadn’t prepared him for the possibility of Grindelwald failing, but they’d been there to ensure he stayed far away from trials and arrests and Azkaban. He’d dealt with some questioning, and suspicious looks, but there wasn’t enough evidence to do much more, even if he’d made it infuriatingly complicated. He owed that complication to Tom. He’d been older, but not so far older that they couldn’t be close. He’d been the youngest of his family, but Tom was like a younger brother for him. He fell for his charm, and for the reassurances that it was his age –– not the unfortunate dark spot on his blood line –– that kept him from truly having a seat at the table. He got his hands dirty in school too, stupid pranks, stupid hazing. It wasn’t serious. Ziya had seen what serious looked like, Tom wasn’t there. Not yet. But he could sense it, his intuition piqued now. 

Thaddeus and Everett weren’t as sure about Tom, but they never discouraged their friendship either. And now? Ziya still cares deeply for the man he’s called friend, but he’s not sure he can stand behind some of his recent choices. He doesn’t want to be drug into the muddy waters again, not when the reward feels further and further away. He’s worked hard to shake off his youthful involvement, reassuring others that he’s grown up, matured. Tom knows though, he knows all his damn secrets. He wants to trust Tom, but he’s seen too many people like him left to face the aurors alone, still covered head to toe in the muddy fuckin’ proof. 

Current Motivations:     

Now Ziya is working on figuring out where he stands in this all. He’s never been afraid of hard work, and he likes to believe he’s loyal as they come ( maybe the sorting hat had even been right about it’s initial assessment ), but he’s not ready to muddy his hands again, not without more reassurance. He stays in touch with Tom, to a degree, though there’s been more distance since graduating some years ago. He’s built his own life in the aftermath of Grindelwald, his record pristine despite personally knowing otherwise. He enjoys his job, finding it rewarding and thrilling all at once. He doesn’t even mind the looks his coworkers sometimes toss his way, but there are days where he forgets himself. It feels good, using his talent to escort high profile witches and wizards, to protect Quidditch players during riots, to stand in the fray when others would turn back. And maybe he just doesn’t think about the complicated emotions that boil up inside when a particularly difficult file crosses his desk. Until someone gives him a reason to get up, he’s going to sit at this table. 

CONNECTIONS.

TBD.