Post by steeb on Sept 25, 2016 11:14:11 GMT
Matthew J. Williams
Male | Seventeen |
Canadian-american | Heterosexual |
177.5 cm | 154 lbs |
muggleborn | |
personality
[attr="class","profileboxscroll"]Matthew Jean-Christophe Williams... or, the nice boy, as many who don't remember his name simply call him. And, unfortunately, Matthew's name seems to slip most people's minds. He's the kid who sits next to you in class or in the mess hall when you're alone, or lets you look at his homework for reference -- that is, if there is no cheating being done. He'll have your arse if it turns out you're using him for less than savoury purposes. A philanthropic soul Matthew Williams is, but he is not by any means a pushover.
He's quite a stickler for rules, but when it suits him he can afford to turn a blind eye... mostly in the case of bullies. He doesn't care where you're from, or why you're doing it. Bullies don't deserve his kindness. Along with bullies, he has a deep dislike of the arrogant, the brainless, and the ignorant. He has no patience for any of these, and he's not afraid to put it straight to you despite his usual gentle manner and choice of words.
That being said, there is a side to Matthew that many aren't privy to. He may spent his days helping those unable to understand their Potions class, or giving an ear to those having troubling times, but Matthew isn't all smiles and encouragement. There's a part of him that is filled with jealousy, spite, and resentment. He's not all rainbows and glee: he's a cynic, a skeptic, an internal pessimist, and a terribly capable person if he puts his mind to it. And they all stem from his pre-Hogwarts years, back to his childhood when he still lived with the Jones family. While this has not yet affected his personality outright, it is deeply-rooted enough to have potential to blossom into something far worse... it's already started to manifest in outbursts of frustration, defensiveness, coldness, and indirect manipulation through words or well-faked emotions. Matthew is not a person used to getting what he wants, but that only means that he's learnt the best ways to get them.
Showing himself off as an angel to his peers and to his teachers is a great way. Who would question the sweet and lovely Matthew Williams, who never spoke against authority, who never did anything to insult or hurt his fellow wizards and witches? The boy who spends his nights finishing his homework and helping others with their assignments? Matthew is a highly-trusted person as a student, as a friend, and as a wizard, and that alone gives him a large amount of sway over his companions and his professors. Few would hesitate to help him if he needed it, and few suspect the act that's started to gloss over his true personality. They don't know that he spends some of his time collecting information on other students, keeping a book of things he's been told about everyone whether it's rumours, secrets offered to him under the confidentiality of friendship, or simple amiable information exchanges. He's paranoid, feels a strong need to know everything, and more often than not snoops around, listens in to conversations, and digs for info on his own time.
If Matthew is to prevent his personality and nature from growing more pessimistic and resentful, then he needs faith and friends who can keep him along the right road. Given the wrong friends and just enough proof that the world is not indeed the wonderful place he once believed it to be when he was a child... Matthew could very well go bad, and very quickly at that.
He's quite a stickler for rules, but when it suits him he can afford to turn a blind eye... mostly in the case of bullies. He doesn't care where you're from, or why you're doing it. Bullies don't deserve his kindness. Along with bullies, he has a deep dislike of the arrogant, the brainless, and the ignorant. He has no patience for any of these, and he's not afraid to put it straight to you despite his usual gentle manner and choice of words.
That being said, there is a side to Matthew that many aren't privy to. He may spent his days helping those unable to understand their Potions class, or giving an ear to those having troubling times, but Matthew isn't all smiles and encouragement. There's a part of him that is filled with jealousy, spite, and resentment. He's not all rainbows and glee: he's a cynic, a skeptic, an internal pessimist, and a terribly capable person if he puts his mind to it. And they all stem from his pre-Hogwarts years, back to his childhood when he still lived with the Jones family. While this has not yet affected his personality outright, it is deeply-rooted enough to have potential to blossom into something far worse... it's already started to manifest in outbursts of frustration, defensiveness, coldness, and indirect manipulation through words or well-faked emotions. Matthew is not a person used to getting what he wants, but that only means that he's learnt the best ways to get them.
Showing himself off as an angel to his peers and to his teachers is a great way. Who would question the sweet and lovely Matthew Williams, who never spoke against authority, who never did anything to insult or hurt his fellow wizards and witches? The boy who spends his nights finishing his homework and helping others with their assignments? Matthew is a highly-trusted person as a student, as a friend, and as a wizard, and that alone gives him a large amount of sway over his companions and his professors. Few would hesitate to help him if he needed it, and few suspect the act that's started to gloss over his true personality. They don't know that he spends some of his time collecting information on other students, keeping a book of things he's been told about everyone whether it's rumours, secrets offered to him under the confidentiality of friendship, or simple amiable information exchanges. He's paranoid, feels a strong need to know everything, and more often than not snoops around, listens in to conversations, and digs for info on his own time.
If Matthew is to prevent his personality and nature from growing more pessimistic and resentful, then he needs faith and friends who can keep him along the right road. Given the wrong friends and just enough proof that the world is not indeed the wonderful place he once believed it to be when he was a child... Matthew could very well go bad, and very quickly at that.
history
[attr="class","profileboxscroll"]Matthew was born on the first of July to a middle class Canadian family living in Montreal. The boy grew up loved and cared for by his Muggle parents, living a life of enjoyment and glee in his home city. He was taught first French, and then English, excelling in both languages at a young age. However, his English was spoken with a heavy French accent in his childhood, and a light one exists even today, more than ten years after his move to America and then schooling in the UK. He was rarely misunderstood, however -- he had a way with words that translated into whatever language he picked up. He spoke gently, yet firmly, and few misinterpreted what Matthew had to say. Many, from his friends to his parents and teachers, loved to hear the boy talk. He opened his mouth just a little less than the average child, but when he bothered to say something, it was always sweet and well thought-out.
Matthew's mother was the sister of Martha Jones, which made Matthew the cousin of Alfred Jones. Although the families visited several times and the two boys were often put together, Matthew was not at all enamoured by Alfred. The Jones boy's personality was too loud, too overbearing, and he was altogether far too obsessed with superheroes. Matthew didn't see the appeal. He was indifferent towards Jones' younger sibling altogether, and although he was friendly, he preferred to be alone with his simple pastimes.
Matthew was a boy that loved learning new crafts like painting and writing. There was no piece of paper and no space on the wall that was untouched by Matthew's pens and brushes; the boy was determined that his parents would hang his crayon and watercolour drawings on the wall, or he would have to paint directly onto it to ensure its acknowledgement. He drew butterflies, bees, flowers, larger animals, everything that he saw. In his room he collected a multitude of wildlife props: little jars with butterflies, ladybugs, and spiders were placed on windowsills and on shelves. Cutout paper vines were taped against the wall. Matthew was a true fan of nature and of all things beautiful. And he loved reading and writing, too. If he was not romping about outside, then he was curled up in his bed with a bottle of Bec Cola and and a picture book about biology and wildlife. He kept journals where he wrote about his journeys as the future famous adventurer Matthew Jean-Christophe Williams, who would travel the globe, discover new creatures, and have a show all to himself about tromping through the Amazon jungles, or trudging up a snowy Mount Everest.
As he grew older, Matthew's ambitions grew with him. He was going to become an artist, or perhaps even a writer. He spilled out all his dreams to his parents, who smiled, pat his head, and encouraged him. They were not one to deny a child his dreams, and they believed in his skills. They enrolled him in creative classes for toddlers, where he made friends by the dozens who shared his interests. His teachers oohed and ahed over his works, and Matthew's talents grew stronger by the day.
The day when it ended came when he was four and a half years old. He was driving in the car with his parents on the way to Ottawa to meet with his friend from school who had moved away. Matthew loved their open top car, forgoing his seat belt so that he could lean up between the space of the front seats to talk to his parents. The family was cruising on an untravelled side road at high speeds, laughing and joking playfully. Matthew himself doesn't know exactly what happened -- one moment, he was reaching into his bag for his drawings to show his mother, and in the next, he was suddenly thrown out of his car seat, sailing through the air.
However, he was not thrown against the cement of the road. Instead, the boy floated down gently until he reached the ground safely. When he turned back, however, he saw his parents' car totaled against the side of a thick tree. A truck had been approaching them from the other side, he was told a few years later by his new family, and his parents had had to swerve to avoid it. Matthew had been thrown out of the car; the police simply shook their heads and called it a miracle that he hadn't been injured.
There was nothing left to do but send Matthew to the second closest relations he had. And those relations happened to be the Jones family. Matthew was forced to leave his beloved home in Montreal, and he would never forget the sight of the Williams family house retreating into the distance as he was driven off to the airport in Mr. Jones' car. When he could no longer see his home, no matter how hard he squinted, the now four-years-old Matthew was finally forced to realise the truth: his parents weren't coming back. He was alone, and he was going to have to live in an entirely new country without his art classes, or his friends, or the teachers who liked him so much.
He was going to be completely alone, he realised with a sinking feeling. Of course there was the chance that he could start over, but... some part of him didn't want to. This could have been entirely avoided. If only he hadn't been distracting his family, if only...
The possibilities flowed through his head. Matthew felt almost as if it were his fault that they were dead, and felt horrible that somehow he was the one that survived. And that was the day that he cut off entirely. He did not interact with the family. Alfred's and the younger Jones sibling's attempts to reach out to him were cut off with an "I don't feel like it," or "Please don't bother me." He kept up the excuse of mourning for years just to simply stay away from it all. The fact of the matter was, Matthew didn't want to accept what had happened. He couldn't. Accepting the Joneses as his new family meant forgetting and moving past his mother and father, and Matthew could never do that.
The most he did with his relatives was eat meals with them and be driven to school with Alfred and his sibling... and listening in on their conversations. He found all sorts of creative ways to do so; the air vents in his bedroom connected to the kitchen and dining room, so he could hear all sorts of conversations by simply lying next to it and waiting for a private conversation to pop up between Martha and her husband. Sometimes, when Alfred and his sibling were put into bed, Matthew would tiptoe out of his room and sneak around the house, listening for any new information that couldn't be caught in the dining area. When the family bought him headphones, he would plug them into his phone, but turn the volume all the way down, allowing him to hear whatever he wanted. He did this not only with his new "parents", but with everyone else as well. Matthew had become guarded, defensive, and paranoid. He trusted no one, only gathered information on them that might prove useful to building his own reputation and life.
Matthew, however, did not show himself off as isolated, disrespectful, or resentful. No -- he turned these feelings into helpfulness and kindness, offering assistance to anyone who needed it and focusing his energy on other people's feelings instead of his own. It made him feel better about his situation, and it meant that he needed to think of his own woes less. He was sensitive, despite his bitterness, and hated to see people hurt or unhappy altogether at his still young age. Alfred was always getting all the attention, and Matthew knew that the much more exuberant and playful boy would always get the time of day. Plus, there were the strange incidents that surrounded his younger "brother"; Matthew had noticed the odd happenings that could not be physically natural... in fact, they were almost like miracles. And, Matthew observed, it only got Alfred even more attention. (The roof incident reminded him somewhat of his parents and of the car accident when he was young, but... no. Matthew didn't like to think about that. He just ignored it.)
It didn't bother him too much. Matthew simply got the attention he wanted in other ways: by being altruistic. It at least guaranteed him a pristine record, and ensured that people would like him... even if he didn't want to be their friends, or allow them to understand him on deeper levels.
Things changed when one day, as he lay by the vents waiting for a conversation to pop up, Matthew heard Martha confess an amazing secret to her husband. She was a witch, she confessed, a pureblood witch who was capable of magic. Magic! Matthew was in awe of the confession as he inched closer to the vents and listened with rapt attention. So that explained Alfred! Intrigued by the information he had just collected, Matthew began to pay extra close attention to Alfred.
And it did seem that Alfred had the beginnings of magic. Matthew watched, fascinated, over the next year as Alfred grew older, and his accidental feats of his abilities grew stronger. Matthew often drew attention away from the younger boy when this happened, appearing to be helpful to Alfred. But he only wanted Alfred's gifts to remain undiscovered by others, just so that he could continue watching with the convenience he had been. A year later, and the younger sibling began to manifest magical abilities as well.
Matthew wondered, soon after he uncovered this information, whether or not he had the chance of being a wizard, too. A wizard! It was even better than the fictional stories he'd dreamed up for himself as a child. He knew that Martha had spoken about a school that children could be sent to if it was known that they were magical... but there was a problem. After that one incident with his parents and the car accident, Matthew had shown no signs of magic at all. Matthew's heart sank. Could it be that Alfred was better than him somehow? Was Matthew's mother not blessed with the same gifts that Martha had been? What was it about fortune and luck that the Jones family always attracted them? Why couldn't Matthew have a bit of Alfred's abilities for once?
He grew even more bitter. He had no part in this family, truly; he wasn't the excitable and energetic personality that Alfred was. He didn't even have the same damn magic blood that was somehow selectively bestowed among Alfred's part of the family. Matthew was never going to get the same level of attention or skill that Alfred somehow was chosen over him to have. He was going to grow up, living in the shadow of Alfred F. Jones. Perhaps the younger Jones sibling was even going to outdo Matthew someday. Ha!
When they moved to England when Matthew was ten, he lost his access to his trusty vents that had always allowed him to hear the dining room conversations. But he didn't care anymore; he was losing another six years worth of "friends", and it seemed there would never be a constant in his life. He was meant to be tossed around like this, having things given to him and then suddenly taken away. He'd survive just fine, and find other ways to get what he needed.
But imagine the surprise that lit Matthew's face when in the summer before their eleventh year of school, two letters addressed to Alfred F. Jones and Matthew J. Williams appeared on the front step outside their door. The two boys were handed their letters, which Alfred hurriedly ripped open. And there it was: a letter to Hogwarts, the school of magic. Matthew opened his own, too, much more slowly. Could it be...?
It was indeed a letter. A letter to the very school that Alfred was to attend. But how could this be, when Matthew hadn't even shown any inclination towards magic? Martha explained to him, then, the concept of a Muggle-born wizard. She opened her mouth to explain the rest, about her magic heritage and her own abilities, but Matthew cut her off then with a curt "I know." It was the only time he would ever show anyone his less savoury nature, and Martha Jones was the only person who would ever suspect that something was going on with her nephew.
Alfred, as expected, was sorted instantly into Gryffindor. Matthew had done his reading on the history of the school once they'd gotten their supplies, and he'd suspected his "brother" would land himself in that house. And when Matthew gave the Sorting Hat a try, it sat on his head for ages. He almost expected that it was all a farce, and that he was not meant for wizarding school at all, when the Hat announced tentatively that Matthew was to be a Ravenclaw.
And so that was that. Matthew was not going to be kicked out of the school. Despite being the son of Muggles, he was a wizard. At Hogwarts, he felt, perhaps he finally had a chance for stability and to accomplish something here. What he would accomplish, he had no idea. But nevertheless he began building a circle of friends, throwing his gentle smiles and soft comments of encouragement towards everyone he could once studies started off. He established, at last, a firm social group that trusted him wholly.
He continued collecting information for his own benefits. He worked his way through classes, using the information he was giving and his cleverness and ability to mould the situation to his own liking. Matthew had always been adaptable in his Muggle school, and he was just as flexible in his new environment. He was pleased when, despite his background, he performed quite well in his classes and passed all his OWLs with decent grades. Unlike a certain someone, he noted with some wicked glee.
Matthew, however, developed an interest in the dark arts, and generally more restrictive levels of magic. It was an interest that he never dared to state outright, but continued working towards on his own time. He didn't want to draw any necessary attention to himself. Matthew regretted, sometimes, that he had not been born in another country and to non-Muggle parents so that he would have easy access to Durmstrang... that school had fewer qualms about teaching the dark arts, rather than just "defence" against the dark arts. But that was always a thought he pushed off, because despite his interests he would never truly wish for parents other than the ones he had for such a short, but beautiful amount of time.
Matthew pretended that he was interested in becoming an Auror. He had the grades to do it, and he might if he really wanted to. But what he wants is access to higher magic. The Ministry of Magic would give him some room to work around, if he built up the connections and worked his way to the top. Legilimency caught his attention -- he had always been one for finding information that he shouldn't, and the art somehow appeals to him. Even if he knows he won't be able to use it for such purposes, there's a sort of beauty in being able to dig through a person's mind and uncover their darkest thoughts. So Matthew works towards someday reaching that level of wizarding. On a deeper level, he's not even sure why he's putting all his effort towards all these practices oft-seen as less savoury than the average wizard's interests.
But Matthew has something to prove. That's all he knows. And he'll be damned if he turns out as someone less remarkable than Alfred Jones.
Matthew's mother was the sister of Martha Jones, which made Matthew the cousin of Alfred Jones. Although the families visited several times and the two boys were often put together, Matthew was not at all enamoured by Alfred. The Jones boy's personality was too loud, too overbearing, and he was altogether far too obsessed with superheroes. Matthew didn't see the appeal. He was indifferent towards Jones' younger sibling altogether, and although he was friendly, he preferred to be alone with his simple pastimes.
Matthew was a boy that loved learning new crafts like painting and writing. There was no piece of paper and no space on the wall that was untouched by Matthew's pens and brushes; the boy was determined that his parents would hang his crayon and watercolour drawings on the wall, or he would have to paint directly onto it to ensure its acknowledgement. He drew butterflies, bees, flowers, larger animals, everything that he saw. In his room he collected a multitude of wildlife props: little jars with butterflies, ladybugs, and spiders were placed on windowsills and on shelves. Cutout paper vines were taped against the wall. Matthew was a true fan of nature and of all things beautiful. And he loved reading and writing, too. If he was not romping about outside, then he was curled up in his bed with a bottle of Bec Cola and and a picture book about biology and wildlife. He kept journals where he wrote about his journeys as the future famous adventurer Matthew Jean-Christophe Williams, who would travel the globe, discover new creatures, and have a show all to himself about tromping through the Amazon jungles, or trudging up a snowy Mount Everest.
As he grew older, Matthew's ambitions grew with him. He was going to become an artist, or perhaps even a writer. He spilled out all his dreams to his parents, who smiled, pat his head, and encouraged him. They were not one to deny a child his dreams, and they believed in his skills. They enrolled him in creative classes for toddlers, where he made friends by the dozens who shared his interests. His teachers oohed and ahed over his works, and Matthew's talents grew stronger by the day.
The day when it ended came when he was four and a half years old. He was driving in the car with his parents on the way to Ottawa to meet with his friend from school who had moved away. Matthew loved their open top car, forgoing his seat belt so that he could lean up between the space of the front seats to talk to his parents. The family was cruising on an untravelled side road at high speeds, laughing and joking playfully. Matthew himself doesn't know exactly what happened -- one moment, he was reaching into his bag for his drawings to show his mother, and in the next, he was suddenly thrown out of his car seat, sailing through the air.
However, he was not thrown against the cement of the road. Instead, the boy floated down gently until he reached the ground safely. When he turned back, however, he saw his parents' car totaled against the side of a thick tree. A truck had been approaching them from the other side, he was told a few years later by his new family, and his parents had had to swerve to avoid it. Matthew had been thrown out of the car; the police simply shook their heads and called it a miracle that he hadn't been injured.
There was nothing left to do but send Matthew to the second closest relations he had. And those relations happened to be the Jones family. Matthew was forced to leave his beloved home in Montreal, and he would never forget the sight of the Williams family house retreating into the distance as he was driven off to the airport in Mr. Jones' car. When he could no longer see his home, no matter how hard he squinted, the now four-years-old Matthew was finally forced to realise the truth: his parents weren't coming back. He was alone, and he was going to have to live in an entirely new country without his art classes, or his friends, or the teachers who liked him so much.
He was going to be completely alone, he realised with a sinking feeling. Of course there was the chance that he could start over, but... some part of him didn't want to. This could have been entirely avoided. If only he hadn't been distracting his family, if only...
The possibilities flowed through his head. Matthew felt almost as if it were his fault that they were dead, and felt horrible that somehow he was the one that survived. And that was the day that he cut off entirely. He did not interact with the family. Alfred's and the younger Jones sibling's attempts to reach out to him were cut off with an "I don't feel like it," or "Please don't bother me." He kept up the excuse of mourning for years just to simply stay away from it all. The fact of the matter was, Matthew didn't want to accept what had happened. He couldn't. Accepting the Joneses as his new family meant forgetting and moving past his mother and father, and Matthew could never do that.
The most he did with his relatives was eat meals with them and be driven to school with Alfred and his sibling... and listening in on their conversations. He found all sorts of creative ways to do so; the air vents in his bedroom connected to the kitchen and dining room, so he could hear all sorts of conversations by simply lying next to it and waiting for a private conversation to pop up between Martha and her husband. Sometimes, when Alfred and his sibling were put into bed, Matthew would tiptoe out of his room and sneak around the house, listening for any new information that couldn't be caught in the dining area. When the family bought him headphones, he would plug them into his phone, but turn the volume all the way down, allowing him to hear whatever he wanted. He did this not only with his new "parents", but with everyone else as well. Matthew had become guarded, defensive, and paranoid. He trusted no one, only gathered information on them that might prove useful to building his own reputation and life.
Matthew, however, did not show himself off as isolated, disrespectful, or resentful. No -- he turned these feelings into helpfulness and kindness, offering assistance to anyone who needed it and focusing his energy on other people's feelings instead of his own. It made him feel better about his situation, and it meant that he needed to think of his own woes less. He was sensitive, despite his bitterness, and hated to see people hurt or unhappy altogether at his still young age. Alfred was always getting all the attention, and Matthew knew that the much more exuberant and playful boy would always get the time of day. Plus, there were the strange incidents that surrounded his younger "brother"; Matthew had noticed the odd happenings that could not be physically natural... in fact, they were almost like miracles. And, Matthew observed, it only got Alfred even more attention. (The roof incident reminded him somewhat of his parents and of the car accident when he was young, but... no. Matthew didn't like to think about that. He just ignored it.)
It didn't bother him too much. Matthew simply got the attention he wanted in other ways: by being altruistic. It at least guaranteed him a pristine record, and ensured that people would like him... even if he didn't want to be their friends, or allow them to understand him on deeper levels.
Things changed when one day, as he lay by the vents waiting for a conversation to pop up, Matthew heard Martha confess an amazing secret to her husband. She was a witch, she confessed, a pureblood witch who was capable of magic. Magic! Matthew was in awe of the confession as he inched closer to the vents and listened with rapt attention. So that explained Alfred! Intrigued by the information he had just collected, Matthew began to pay extra close attention to Alfred.
And it did seem that Alfred had the beginnings of magic. Matthew watched, fascinated, over the next year as Alfred grew older, and his accidental feats of his abilities grew stronger. Matthew often drew attention away from the younger boy when this happened, appearing to be helpful to Alfred. But he only wanted Alfred's gifts to remain undiscovered by others, just so that he could continue watching with the convenience he had been. A year later, and the younger sibling began to manifest magical abilities as well.
Matthew wondered, soon after he uncovered this information, whether or not he had the chance of being a wizard, too. A wizard! It was even better than the fictional stories he'd dreamed up for himself as a child. He knew that Martha had spoken about a school that children could be sent to if it was known that they were magical... but there was a problem. After that one incident with his parents and the car accident, Matthew had shown no signs of magic at all. Matthew's heart sank. Could it be that Alfred was better than him somehow? Was Matthew's mother not blessed with the same gifts that Martha had been? What was it about fortune and luck that the Jones family always attracted them? Why couldn't Matthew have a bit of Alfred's abilities for once?
He grew even more bitter. He had no part in this family, truly; he wasn't the excitable and energetic personality that Alfred was. He didn't even have the same damn magic blood that was somehow selectively bestowed among Alfred's part of the family. Matthew was never going to get the same level of attention or skill that Alfred somehow was chosen over him to have. He was going to grow up, living in the shadow of Alfred F. Jones. Perhaps the younger Jones sibling was even going to outdo Matthew someday. Ha!
When they moved to England when Matthew was ten, he lost his access to his trusty vents that had always allowed him to hear the dining room conversations. But he didn't care anymore; he was losing another six years worth of "friends", and it seemed there would never be a constant in his life. He was meant to be tossed around like this, having things given to him and then suddenly taken away. He'd survive just fine, and find other ways to get what he needed.
But imagine the surprise that lit Matthew's face when in the summer before their eleventh year of school, two letters addressed to Alfred F. Jones and Matthew J. Williams appeared on the front step outside their door. The two boys were handed their letters, which Alfred hurriedly ripped open. And there it was: a letter to Hogwarts, the school of magic. Matthew opened his own, too, much more slowly. Could it be...?
It was indeed a letter. A letter to the very school that Alfred was to attend. But how could this be, when Matthew hadn't even shown any inclination towards magic? Martha explained to him, then, the concept of a Muggle-born wizard. She opened her mouth to explain the rest, about her magic heritage and her own abilities, but Matthew cut her off then with a curt "I know." It was the only time he would ever show anyone his less savoury nature, and Martha Jones was the only person who would ever suspect that something was going on with her nephew.
Alfred, as expected, was sorted instantly into Gryffindor. Matthew had done his reading on the history of the school once they'd gotten their supplies, and he'd suspected his "brother" would land himself in that house. And when Matthew gave the Sorting Hat a try, it sat on his head for ages. He almost expected that it was all a farce, and that he was not meant for wizarding school at all, when the Hat announced tentatively that Matthew was to be a Ravenclaw.
And so that was that. Matthew was not going to be kicked out of the school. Despite being the son of Muggles, he was a wizard. At Hogwarts, he felt, perhaps he finally had a chance for stability and to accomplish something here. What he would accomplish, he had no idea. But nevertheless he began building a circle of friends, throwing his gentle smiles and soft comments of encouragement towards everyone he could once studies started off. He established, at last, a firm social group that trusted him wholly.
He continued collecting information for his own benefits. He worked his way through classes, using the information he was giving and his cleverness and ability to mould the situation to his own liking. Matthew had always been adaptable in his Muggle school, and he was just as flexible in his new environment. He was pleased when, despite his background, he performed quite well in his classes and passed all his OWLs with decent grades. Unlike a certain someone, he noted with some wicked glee.
Matthew, however, developed an interest in the dark arts, and generally more restrictive levels of magic. It was an interest that he never dared to state outright, but continued working towards on his own time. He didn't want to draw any necessary attention to himself. Matthew regretted, sometimes, that he had not been born in another country and to non-Muggle parents so that he would have easy access to Durmstrang... that school had fewer qualms about teaching the dark arts, rather than just "defence" against the dark arts. But that was always a thought he pushed off, because despite his interests he would never truly wish for parents other than the ones he had for such a short, but beautiful amount of time.
Matthew pretended that he was interested in becoming an Auror. He had the grades to do it, and he might if he really wanted to. But what he wants is access to higher magic. The Ministry of Magic would give him some room to work around, if he built up the connections and worked his way to the top. Legilimency caught his attention -- he had always been one for finding information that he shouldn't, and the art somehow appeals to him. Even if he knows he won't be able to use it for such purposes, there's a sort of beauty in being able to dig through a person's mind and uncover their darkest thoughts. So Matthew works towards someday reaching that level of wizarding. On a deeper level, he's not even sure why he's putting all his effort towards all these practices oft-seen as less savoury than the average wizard's interests.
But Matthew has something to prove. That's all he knows. And he'll be damned if he turns out as someone less remarkable than Alfred Jones.
rp sample
[attr="class","profileboxscroll"]"Matthew! Matthew?"
Matthew let out a sigh, pulling his glasses off of his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. He glanced outside the window of the dormitory -- goodness, it was already so late. He'd lost track of time once he'd immersed himself fully into finishing up his essay for History of Magic.
What did someone want him for, at this time?
He spared his new companion a quick glance. Ah, a girl he'd met in the mess hall. Her name was -- what was it again? Andi? Andrea? He was usually much better about remembering these tidbits of information, but right now his mind was entirely on his work. He wasn't so good at snapping out of his work headspace.
"Matthew," she said, not without obvious concern, "It's already three o' clock in the morning."
Not that he couldn't tell for himself with a quick glance at his wristwatch. Hmm... if he remembered right, this girl was a year younger than him. Perhaps a year and 3 months. He remembered that she'd told him her birthday, with a sort of hopeful glance in her eyes. She liked him, perhaps even had a crush on him. He knew the signs, he was sure of it.
"Uh huh," said Matthew, sliding his essay across the table and squinting at the tiny lines of handwriting. One last check, and then he could leave it for tonight... only to check again in the morning, of course, when he was in a fresh state of mind.
As usual, he'd meant to keep the essay length at a neat three and a half feet; somehow, it had expanded into a full four feet, and then he'd wanted to cram more and more detail in until it had overflowed to a whooping four and three quarters of a foot. He was running out of ink, he thought mournfully as he examined his ink well.
"Matthew?" she said again. She was persistent.
This was getting irritating, quickly.
He wiped his glasses on the sleeve of his robes with an internal sigh, wishing that he could ignore her. She wasn't anyone of much importance; just a half-blood with no true connections or friends with much information that he could file away. He preferred the ones that at least had good gossip. Alas, he'd discovered quickly that Andrea had little or no information of use to him at all -- and it was only after he'd agreed to help her with Potions that he'd found out this unfortunate fact.
Far more than enough time to develop a crush on him. This made things awfully troublesome for Matthew. He didn't mind, and in any other case he would think it flattering. She was a nice person, maybe even a decent friend if he let himself think of it that way. But he was also busy, with plenty of other things to occupy his mind than a girl.
He placed his glasses back on his face with a slight wince before he directed his eyes to the girl. He folded his hands on his lap and did his best to look apologetic. "I'm sorry," he said with a tired smile, "I'm just... this essay has been keeping me up for days. I'd rather just have it finished. Ah, did you have something you'd like to ask me?"
He fished around in his mind for something she'd told him recently. "I know you have an important project due next week?" he tried. "I'm so sorry I haven't had the time to help you out with that. I've been so worn out, myself, and..."
He rubbed at an eye, then dragged a hand through his hair. "Gosh, sorry for looking like a mess," he said with a sheepish grin, "It's so late."
His little display worked. "No, no, it's all right!" The younger student let out a squeak of embarrassment and immediately moved to apologise. "It's not due until next week, please take your time! I should be sorry for bothering you, I just wanted to make sure you actually got to bed tonight. I know -- I know how much stress you're dealing with."
Aw. That was sort of sweet of her, to be so concerned for his well-being. Matthew could take care of himself, though. He gave her another exhausted smile.
"Thank you. You should get to bed, yourself. Don't stress, and things will turn out all right, okay? I'll make sure to set aside some time for you this week. We'll make sure you get this class right together."
She flushed bright red and nodded. "Y-yes," she said, "thank you, Matthew! I'll... see you in the morning, then. Good night."
Matthew had already turned back to his essay before she had fully exited the room, though. Perhaps it was a little messy, but the content was good. The professor would have no more than some slight trouble reading a few of the words, but it would make sense immediately in context. This was Alfred's worst subject.
Matthew wondered, absently, if he should tack on another paragraph.
Matthew let out a sigh, pulling his glasses off of his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. He glanced outside the window of the dormitory -- goodness, it was already so late. He'd lost track of time once he'd immersed himself fully into finishing up his essay for History of Magic.
What did someone want him for, at this time?
He spared his new companion a quick glance. Ah, a girl he'd met in the mess hall. Her name was -- what was it again? Andi? Andrea? He was usually much better about remembering these tidbits of information, but right now his mind was entirely on his work. He wasn't so good at snapping out of his work headspace.
"Matthew," she said, not without obvious concern, "It's already three o' clock in the morning."
Not that he couldn't tell for himself with a quick glance at his wristwatch. Hmm... if he remembered right, this girl was a year younger than him. Perhaps a year and 3 months. He remembered that she'd told him her birthday, with a sort of hopeful glance in her eyes. She liked him, perhaps even had a crush on him. He knew the signs, he was sure of it.
"Uh huh," said Matthew, sliding his essay across the table and squinting at the tiny lines of handwriting. One last check, and then he could leave it for tonight... only to check again in the morning, of course, when he was in a fresh state of mind.
As usual, he'd meant to keep the essay length at a neat three and a half feet; somehow, it had expanded into a full four feet, and then he'd wanted to cram more and more detail in until it had overflowed to a whooping four and three quarters of a foot. He was running out of ink, he thought mournfully as he examined his ink well.
"Matthew?" she said again. She was persistent.
This was getting irritating, quickly.
He wiped his glasses on the sleeve of his robes with an internal sigh, wishing that he could ignore her. She wasn't anyone of much importance; just a half-blood with no true connections or friends with much information that he could file away. He preferred the ones that at least had good gossip. Alas, he'd discovered quickly that Andrea had little or no information of use to him at all -- and it was only after he'd agreed to help her with Potions that he'd found out this unfortunate fact.
Far more than enough time to develop a crush on him. This made things awfully troublesome for Matthew. He didn't mind, and in any other case he would think it flattering. She was a nice person, maybe even a decent friend if he let himself think of it that way. But he was also busy, with plenty of other things to occupy his mind than a girl.
He placed his glasses back on his face with a slight wince before he directed his eyes to the girl. He folded his hands on his lap and did his best to look apologetic. "I'm sorry," he said with a tired smile, "I'm just... this essay has been keeping me up for days. I'd rather just have it finished. Ah, did you have something you'd like to ask me?"
He fished around in his mind for something she'd told him recently. "I know you have an important project due next week?" he tried. "I'm so sorry I haven't had the time to help you out with that. I've been so worn out, myself, and..."
He rubbed at an eye, then dragged a hand through his hair. "Gosh, sorry for looking like a mess," he said with a sheepish grin, "It's so late."
His little display worked. "No, no, it's all right!" The younger student let out a squeak of embarrassment and immediately moved to apologise. "It's not due until next week, please take your time! I should be sorry for bothering you, I just wanted to make sure you actually got to bed tonight. I know -- I know how much stress you're dealing with."
Aw. That was sort of sweet of her, to be so concerned for his well-being. Matthew could take care of himself, though. He gave her another exhausted smile.
"Thank you. You should get to bed, yourself. Don't stress, and things will turn out all right, okay? I'll make sure to set aside some time for you this week. We'll make sure you get this class right together."
She flushed bright red and nodded. "Y-yes," she said, "thank you, Matthew! I'll... see you in the morning, then. Good night."
Matthew had already turned back to his essay before she had fully exited the room, though. Perhaps it was a little messy, but the content was good. The professor would have no more than some slight trouble reading a few of the words, but it would make sense immediately in context. This was Alfred's worst subject.
Matthew wondered, absently, if he should tack on another paragraph.
other
Wand | |
Acromantula Web | Pine |
fourteen and a half inches | Slightly Yielding |
Strongest Subject | Weakest Subject |
Defence against the dark arts | arithmancy |
Familiar | Patronus |
screech owl | hyena |
Canada from Axis Powers Hetalia | |
Aaron/Kitsuki | |
width: 1px;[/newclass]
