Post by Gilbert Beilschmidt on Sept 15, 2016 22:00:50 GMT
Gilbert Wilhelm Beilschmidt
MALE | eighteen |
bisexual | |
178 cm | 72 kg |
pureblood | |
personality
[attr="class","profileboxscroll"]To say Gilbert has a chip on his shoulder is a relatively mild way of putting it. From the way Gilbert walks around, it's clear that he's got something to prove. To who, exactly, it's hard to say, but Gilbert is driven beyond compare and it shows in his actions.
Gilbert is brimming with confidence. Those who are polite might say overconfidence. The more favored term is arrogance. It's not necessarily something Gilbert would deny either. His unfaltering belief in himself and his abilities to achieve success and greatness are what have carried him so far. He walks through the halls of Durmstrang like he belongs—and even if he doesn't, who cares?
Along those lines, Gilbert also exudes an air of carefreeness, though that's a facade that Gilbert works hard to keep up. He's known as a troublemaker in Durmstrang, always skirting the edge of getting kicked out, but not quite making it there. Despite that, Gilbert earns excellent grades in all but his least favorite classes, and even in those, he shows a discipline in applying himself to the task. Of course, almost no one knows that. Gilbert has carefully crafted his image at Durmstrang and he has very little intention of letting anyone catch on.
The discipline that Gilbert so carefully hides in his academic studies can, however, be seen in his typical lifestyle. Drilled into him by Durmstrang's strict rules, Gilbert is tidy to a fault and precise to a tee. He has a thing for schedules and organization, and everything in his room has a precise place of belonging. He rises early (though he doesn't always respect Durmstrang's rule on when he should sleep) and spends a fair amount of his free time training.
That same discipline generally applies to how Gilbert approaches problems. Despite what most people may think, Gilbert is cunning and in most cases, patient. He is often the mastermind behind the legendary pranks, planning everything down to the second. He can, however, lose his cool if someone threatens something or someone he genuinely cares for. In that case, Gilbert can easily become reckless.
Gilbert is incredibly loyal to both his family and his friends. Gilbert would gladly put himself in harm's way for any of them—even his father, with whom he has a very strained relationship. He is also insistently stubborn in everything he does, and if he believes in something, Gilbert will defend it to the end. This also allows him to pursue what he wants with a fervor that is difficult to match.
At the end of the day, Gilbert is more than just the arrogant player many see him as. To some, that may seem sad, but for the most part, Gilbert is fine with the way things are.
Gilbert is brimming with confidence. Those who are polite might say overconfidence. The more favored term is arrogance. It's not necessarily something Gilbert would deny either. His unfaltering belief in himself and his abilities to achieve success and greatness are what have carried him so far. He walks through the halls of Durmstrang like he belongs—and even if he doesn't, who cares?
Along those lines, Gilbert also exudes an air of carefreeness, though that's a facade that Gilbert works hard to keep up. He's known as a troublemaker in Durmstrang, always skirting the edge of getting kicked out, but not quite making it there. Despite that, Gilbert earns excellent grades in all but his least favorite classes, and even in those, he shows a discipline in applying himself to the task. Of course, almost no one knows that. Gilbert has carefully crafted his image at Durmstrang and he has very little intention of letting anyone catch on.
The discipline that Gilbert so carefully hides in his academic studies can, however, be seen in his typical lifestyle. Drilled into him by Durmstrang's strict rules, Gilbert is tidy to a fault and precise to a tee. He has a thing for schedules and organization, and everything in his room has a precise place of belonging. He rises early (though he doesn't always respect Durmstrang's rule on when he should sleep) and spends a fair amount of his free time training.
That same discipline generally applies to how Gilbert approaches problems. Despite what most people may think, Gilbert is cunning and in most cases, patient. He is often the mastermind behind the legendary pranks, planning everything down to the second. He can, however, lose his cool if someone threatens something or someone he genuinely cares for. In that case, Gilbert can easily become reckless.
Gilbert is incredibly loyal to both his family and his friends. Gilbert would gladly put himself in harm's way for any of them—even his father, with whom he has a very strained relationship. He is also insistently stubborn in everything he does, and if he believes in something, Gilbert will defend it to the end. This also allows him to pursue what he wants with a fervor that is difficult to match.
At the end of the day, Gilbert is more than just the arrogant player many see him as. To some, that may seem sad, but for the most part, Gilbert is fine with the way things are.
history
[attr="class","profileboxscroll"]Destined for greatness. That was what Gilbert was told growing up. First son and heir of the proud Beilschmidt family, Gilbert was raised to take on the noble burden of keeping powerful secrets for the Ministry of Magic. It was a task that Gilbert had known of ever since he was old enough to understand, and it was a duty Gilbert prided himself on.
For as long as Gilbert could remember, he was trained to do just that. Despite his naturally outgoing personality, the importance of the job he had been granted through birth weighed on him heavily. Gilbert juggled an impressively busy childhood. In those first few years, Gilbert bounced back and forth between Quidditch, football, friends, and studying up on the family tradition. He never paused, always rushing from one thing to the next, and would always fall asleep before his head hit the pillow.
The numerous activities eventually took its toll on Gilbert's health, and lack of sleep combined with stress led him to collapse during a Quidditch game with his friends. He fell ill for half a year and though he recovered, his parents were alarmed. Gilbert was only seven after all, and despite all the sports and activity, he had never been the healthiest of children. If he couldn't handle the responsibility now (just a fraction of what he would have to shoulder later on), how could he do so in the future?
So they turned to his younger brother. Ludwig. The two of them were just a year apart, yet sometimes it was hard to believe they were brothers. Ludwig was much quieter, much more reserved, and much more put together than Gilbert. Of course, he wasn't always like that. Not when they played Quidditch or football or when it was just the two of them roasting marshmallows at a campfire. That was when Ludwig really smiled, when Ludwig really laughed. It always pleased Gilbert that he was one of the few people Ludwig really loosened up around, though at the time, it pained him to see his brother spending so much time indoors, especially now that he had to take on what was supposed to be Gilbert's responsibility. Gilbert was still technically the heir, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that his parents were grooming Ludwig for the role.
An odd mix of shame and pleasure filled Gilbert. To see Ludwig pulled out of his comfortable life to take on the burden that had always been Gilbert's overwhelmed him with guilt. Yet at the same time, Gilbert finally had time to do the things he wanted. He could actually stay at his friend's house for dinner after Quidditch, could actually stay up late to watch football, could actually lay down and fall asleep slowly. He still studied with their father to some extent, but the majority of work now lay with Ludwig.
All that changed when Gilbert was nine.
As an older brother (Ludwig often pointed out that Gilbert was only a year older, but really the difference didn't matter), Gilbert worried for Ludwig. Even when Gilbert had been the direct inheritor of the Beilschmidt title, he had always managed to find his way outside of the house for a game of Quidditch or some time with friends. Ludwig, on the other hand, threw himself into his studies, having to catch up on years of studying that Gilbert had had. It worked too, with Ludwig almost entirely caught up to where Gilbert was. Still, the boy needed a break. So Gilbert suggested a camping trip. Ludwig had always loved camping when they were younger, and it would be a good chance to bond as a family.
What was originally meant to be some relaxation and time away turned into something very, very different. Late at night, while Gilbert was in his tent, scribbling away in his journal (not diary, journal), he heard a scream. Racing out, Gilbert found Ludwig lying on the ground in a pool of blood.
The next 24 hours were a haze that Gilbert only recalled in bits and pieces. Calling Ludwig's name, trying to stop the blood from flowing. Being transported to St. Mungo's. Watching Ludwig get whisked away into a room by a Healer. Gilbert desperately trying to wash his brother's blood off his hands, except it'd gotten on his shirt and his pants and his shoes and...
His parents refused to tell him what had happened to Ludwig, but Gilbert pressed and pressed and pressed. He had to know. He had to. He was the older brother, he was supposed to be taking care of Ludwig. He was the one who suggested they go camping, he was the one who'd been in the tent while Ludwig was out there trying to make them hot drinks, he...
Gilbert needed to know.
It took him several months to figure it out. Gilbert had never worked harder in his life, scanning every single text and paying acute attention to every strange action from his parents and brother. When he did figure out what had happened, he almost didn't believe it.
Ludwig was a werewolf.
He broke the news of his knowledge to Ludwig soon after. There was no good way to approach it, so Gilbert put it bluntly to his brother. Ludwig deserved that much. And when Ludwig embraced Gilbert, repeating over and over that he wasn't a monster, Gilbert hugged him tight and murmured into Lud's ear that he knew.
Gilbert immediately resolved to keep Ludwig safe, whether that was fending him off from anyone who might harm him, or keeping him from harming anyone else. Because really, Ludwig was the only one that mattered. And Ludwig's secret was the only one truly worth keeping.
Speaking of secrets, after Ludwig's transformation, Gilbert's parents had slowly started shifting more responsibility back onto him. Gilbert took this in stride. Of course Ludwig couldn't be expected to keep up his studies. Not with so much happening. Gilbert was more than willing to help ease his burden while Ludwig took all the time he needed.
Perhaps it was naivety, but Gilbert didn't realize his parents' intentions until later.
For the next two years, Gilbert threw himself into helping his brother. Whether it was Ludwig's studies or his health or micromanaging the creation of Wolfsbane potion, Gilbert was there. There was still residual guilt; after all, if Gilbert had never suggested a camping trip, Ludwig would never have been in this position. But Gilbert knew he could not make up for what had happened, so he resolved to throw his life into what could be.
That was, until he left for Hogwarts. Gilbert had worried for days before his departure, packing and unpacking and repacking and reunpacking. He even begged his parents to let him stay back a year, but they insisted that his education was more important. As the Hogwarts Express pulled away, Gilbert stared at Ludwig through the window, waving at him with a smile, but also a degree of apprehension.
Despite Gilbert's reservations, he loved Hogwarts. He loved the halls and the paintings and the ghosts. He loved the people. Loved sneaking out with his friends from Slytherin after lights out. He loved the independence. He even saved a miniature albino owl in those first few months at school, and though he had been meaning to buy himself a full-sized owl (Gilbert's reluctance to attend school had prevented him from purchasing anything but the most necessary items), Gilbert immediately named the creature Gilbird and took him under his wing.
Gilbert's concerns about Ludwig also proved to be fruitless. The two brothers wrote constantly over that first year, and when second year rolled around and Ludwig stepped into the Great Hall, Gilbert's cheers were the loudest as he was sorted into Slytherin.
At Hogwarts, Gilbert saw Ludwig blossom. Gilbert made Chaser on the Slytherin team and Ludwig made Beater. They both had good friends, were making good grades (Ludwig's better than Gilbert's, but really, who hadn't expected that), and everything was perfect.
Perfect, that was, until just before Gilbert was about to enter his fourth year at Hogwarts.
That summer, his parents had been riding Gilbert particularly hard about his studies, especially the ones specific to their family. Gilbert snapped at them, saying that it hardly mattered since he wasn't the true heir anyways. It was then that his parents broke the news. With Ludwig's transformation into a werewolf, his parents had quietly decided to start shifting the responsibility back onto Gilbert's shoulders. All those times that Gilbert had agreed to help to ensure that Ludwig wasn't overwhelmed were really just a test from his parents to see if he could handle the pressure and pick up the material. And in that regard they had succeeded. Gilbert was at the very top of his class for Defense Against the Dark Arts, even impressing the older students. He did almost as well in Charms and Transfiguration, and though everyone complained about History of Magic, Gilbert found himself eagerly poring over the texts and proudly recalling information that he'd been taught by his parents.
All of this had led to his parents' satisfaction and decision that Gilbert should once again be the official heir of the Beilschmidt family. Yet, as Gilbert had come to realize under his illusion of freedom, he didn't want his family's burden. He wanted something more. Maybe playing Quidditch professionally or becoming an Auror or hell, even teaching! Certainly he'd helped a fair number of friends along. Maybe he'd help the Ministry of Magic along the way, but also maybe not. Gilbert wanted his own dreams, and for the last seven years, he'd believed he could have it.
The argument that ensued was the worst of Gilbert's life, and at the end, his father angrily shouted that there was no chance that Gilbert would be attending Hogwarts this year if he didn't get his act together. He was a disgrace to their family name.
Gilbert was shocked, but he immediately stormed off and stubbornly refused to give in to his father's threats. His father couldn't actually send him away from Hogwarts. Slytherin was Gilbert's birthright. It was where he belonged.
It was only when he woke up to a trunk filled with Durmstrang robes that he realized just how serious his father was.
Gilbert packed in shame. His father arrived in the middle, telling him that he would remain at Durmstrang until he came to his senses. The Beilschmidt legacy was more important than Gilbert's silly dreams. It was about time that Gilbert understood that.
As he was sent to Durmstrang, Gilbert's shame was gradually replaced by anger. He would show them. If this was a game of endurance, Gilbert would win.
He arrived at Durmstrang and was immediately sorted into Jord. Over the years, people would often wonder why. Eldur was the house of the passionate, after all, and Tuuli the house of misfits, both of which seemed to make more sense for the loud, outgoing, and mischievous albino. Not that Gilbert knew or cared anything about the different houses at Durmstrang. He would take what he got and make it his own.
There was no hesitation at all in Gilbert. He made friends swiftly and flirted unashamedly. At Hogwarts, although Gilbert had always been somewhat of a troublemaker, he had generally been fairly respectful. At Durmstrang, that changed. The strictness of the school only taunted Gil, and he was more than happy to fall for it each time. Still, he was smart. He knew that being kicked out of Durmstrang was not what he wanted. So each prank he pulled and each rule he broke was done with incredible precision and planning.
Despite Gilbert's dedication to ignoring the rules and his devil-may-care attitude in public, he studied hard in private. After all, if he was going to prove his father wrong, he also had to prove he could be successful without him. At the same time, Gilbert didn't want to lose the carefree image he'd developed. So he studied at night, or early in the mornings. He snuck into the library after lights out to check his work, and occasionally, Gilbert even cornered his professors to ask them additional questions. All of it paid off, resulting in Gilbert earning top grades in the majority of his classes, though he never told anyone other than his closest friends.
There were other things to adjust to in Durmstrang as well, namely the Dark Arts. The course wasn't required, but Gilbert decided to sign up for it anyway. After all, if he was going to go through with rebelling against his family, he had to go all the way.
(A small part of him also thought that if he was going to defend against the dark arts, he should know how they worked, but that would be dangerously close to agreeing with what his family wanted for him and that was not something Gilbert would admit to.)
But by far the best part of Durmstrang, and the first moment that Gilbert felt like he truly belonged, was when he joined the Quidditch team. Tryouts were open to anyone willing, and Gilbert didn't hesitate at the chance to show off his prowess. His flying may have been a little excessively flashy that day (Gilbert really had very few qualms about showing off), but it did the trick. Gilbert made the team.
It was there that he met Antonio Carriedo. Gilbert certainly knew of the Carriedos. Once famed and respected, they had fallen into disgrace due to a series of unsound financial and personal decisions. He'd heard their names amongst the elite from time to time, often accompanied by a shake of the head and a sigh.
The two of them became quick friends, though at the same time, rivals both on the Quidditch field and off. Antonio excelled in the Dark Arts. Really, they were quite a pair. Gilbert excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts. And when Antonio became Captain of the Quidditch Team (because of course he would), Gilbert became Co-Captain alongside him.
Several times, his parents brought up returning to Hogwarts, but Gilbert refused. Part of it was out of pure stubbornness, but a fair amount was because Gilbert had found a home in Durmstrang. He would make something for himself, and of himself.
Yet as Gilbert entered his last year in Durmstrang, he had no idea what exactly he wanted to do. He excelled in all of his studies, yet he didn't have a plan. Suddenly, Gilbert felt lost.
That was when the Triwizard Tournament was announced, and Gilbert immediately decided to put his name down to go. After all, what better place to figure out his future in a sea of other wizards who didn't know either?
For as long as Gilbert could remember, he was trained to do just that. Despite his naturally outgoing personality, the importance of the job he had been granted through birth weighed on him heavily. Gilbert juggled an impressively busy childhood. In those first few years, Gilbert bounced back and forth between Quidditch, football, friends, and studying up on the family tradition. He never paused, always rushing from one thing to the next, and would always fall asleep before his head hit the pillow.
The numerous activities eventually took its toll on Gilbert's health, and lack of sleep combined with stress led him to collapse during a Quidditch game with his friends. He fell ill for half a year and though he recovered, his parents were alarmed. Gilbert was only seven after all, and despite all the sports and activity, he had never been the healthiest of children. If he couldn't handle the responsibility now (just a fraction of what he would have to shoulder later on), how could he do so in the future?
So they turned to his younger brother. Ludwig. The two of them were just a year apart, yet sometimes it was hard to believe they were brothers. Ludwig was much quieter, much more reserved, and much more put together than Gilbert. Of course, he wasn't always like that. Not when they played Quidditch or football or when it was just the two of them roasting marshmallows at a campfire. That was when Ludwig really smiled, when Ludwig really laughed. It always pleased Gilbert that he was one of the few people Ludwig really loosened up around, though at the time, it pained him to see his brother spending so much time indoors, especially now that he had to take on what was supposed to be Gilbert's responsibility. Gilbert was still technically the heir, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that his parents were grooming Ludwig for the role.
An odd mix of shame and pleasure filled Gilbert. To see Ludwig pulled out of his comfortable life to take on the burden that had always been Gilbert's overwhelmed him with guilt. Yet at the same time, Gilbert finally had time to do the things he wanted. He could actually stay at his friend's house for dinner after Quidditch, could actually stay up late to watch football, could actually lay down and fall asleep slowly. He still studied with their father to some extent, but the majority of work now lay with Ludwig.
All that changed when Gilbert was nine.
As an older brother (Ludwig often pointed out that Gilbert was only a year older, but really the difference didn't matter), Gilbert worried for Ludwig. Even when Gilbert had been the direct inheritor of the Beilschmidt title, he had always managed to find his way outside of the house for a game of Quidditch or some time with friends. Ludwig, on the other hand, threw himself into his studies, having to catch up on years of studying that Gilbert had had. It worked too, with Ludwig almost entirely caught up to where Gilbert was. Still, the boy needed a break. So Gilbert suggested a camping trip. Ludwig had always loved camping when they were younger, and it would be a good chance to bond as a family.
What was originally meant to be some relaxation and time away turned into something very, very different. Late at night, while Gilbert was in his tent, scribbling away in his journal (not diary, journal), he heard a scream. Racing out, Gilbert found Ludwig lying on the ground in a pool of blood.
The next 24 hours were a haze that Gilbert only recalled in bits and pieces. Calling Ludwig's name, trying to stop the blood from flowing. Being transported to St. Mungo's. Watching Ludwig get whisked away into a room by a Healer. Gilbert desperately trying to wash his brother's blood off his hands, except it'd gotten on his shirt and his pants and his shoes and...
His parents refused to tell him what had happened to Ludwig, but Gilbert pressed and pressed and pressed. He had to know. He had to. He was the older brother, he was supposed to be taking care of Ludwig. He was the one who suggested they go camping, he was the one who'd been in the tent while Ludwig was out there trying to make them hot drinks, he...
Gilbert needed to know.
It took him several months to figure it out. Gilbert had never worked harder in his life, scanning every single text and paying acute attention to every strange action from his parents and brother. When he did figure out what had happened, he almost didn't believe it.
Ludwig was a werewolf.
He broke the news of his knowledge to Ludwig soon after. There was no good way to approach it, so Gilbert put it bluntly to his brother. Ludwig deserved that much. And when Ludwig embraced Gilbert, repeating over and over that he wasn't a monster, Gilbert hugged him tight and murmured into Lud's ear that he knew.
Gilbert immediately resolved to keep Ludwig safe, whether that was fending him off from anyone who might harm him, or keeping him from harming anyone else. Because really, Ludwig was the only one that mattered. And Ludwig's secret was the only one truly worth keeping.
Speaking of secrets, after Ludwig's transformation, Gilbert's parents had slowly started shifting more responsibility back onto him. Gilbert took this in stride. Of course Ludwig couldn't be expected to keep up his studies. Not with so much happening. Gilbert was more than willing to help ease his burden while Ludwig took all the time he needed.
Perhaps it was naivety, but Gilbert didn't realize his parents' intentions until later.
For the next two years, Gilbert threw himself into helping his brother. Whether it was Ludwig's studies or his health or micromanaging the creation of Wolfsbane potion, Gilbert was there. There was still residual guilt; after all, if Gilbert had never suggested a camping trip, Ludwig would never have been in this position. But Gilbert knew he could not make up for what had happened, so he resolved to throw his life into what could be.
That was, until he left for Hogwarts. Gilbert had worried for days before his departure, packing and unpacking and repacking and reunpacking. He even begged his parents to let him stay back a year, but they insisted that his education was more important. As the Hogwarts Express pulled away, Gilbert stared at Ludwig through the window, waving at him with a smile, but also a degree of apprehension.
Despite Gilbert's reservations, he loved Hogwarts. He loved the halls and the paintings and the ghosts. He loved the people. Loved sneaking out with his friends from Slytherin after lights out. He loved the independence. He even saved a miniature albino owl in those first few months at school, and though he had been meaning to buy himself a full-sized owl (Gilbert's reluctance to attend school had prevented him from purchasing anything but the most necessary items), Gilbert immediately named the creature Gilbird and took him under his wing.
Gilbert's concerns about Ludwig also proved to be fruitless. The two brothers wrote constantly over that first year, and when second year rolled around and Ludwig stepped into the Great Hall, Gilbert's cheers were the loudest as he was sorted into Slytherin.
At Hogwarts, Gilbert saw Ludwig blossom. Gilbert made Chaser on the Slytherin team and Ludwig made Beater. They both had good friends, were making good grades (Ludwig's better than Gilbert's, but really, who hadn't expected that), and everything was perfect.
Perfect, that was, until just before Gilbert was about to enter his fourth year at Hogwarts.
That summer, his parents had been riding Gilbert particularly hard about his studies, especially the ones specific to their family. Gilbert snapped at them, saying that it hardly mattered since he wasn't the true heir anyways. It was then that his parents broke the news. With Ludwig's transformation into a werewolf, his parents had quietly decided to start shifting the responsibility back onto Gilbert's shoulders. All those times that Gilbert had agreed to help to ensure that Ludwig wasn't overwhelmed were really just a test from his parents to see if he could handle the pressure and pick up the material. And in that regard they had succeeded. Gilbert was at the very top of his class for Defense Against the Dark Arts, even impressing the older students. He did almost as well in Charms and Transfiguration, and though everyone complained about History of Magic, Gilbert found himself eagerly poring over the texts and proudly recalling information that he'd been taught by his parents.
All of this had led to his parents' satisfaction and decision that Gilbert should once again be the official heir of the Beilschmidt family. Yet, as Gilbert had come to realize under his illusion of freedom, he didn't want his family's burden. He wanted something more. Maybe playing Quidditch professionally or becoming an Auror or hell, even teaching! Certainly he'd helped a fair number of friends along. Maybe he'd help the Ministry of Magic along the way, but also maybe not. Gilbert wanted his own dreams, and for the last seven years, he'd believed he could have it.
The argument that ensued was the worst of Gilbert's life, and at the end, his father angrily shouted that there was no chance that Gilbert would be attending Hogwarts this year if he didn't get his act together. He was a disgrace to their family name.
Gilbert was shocked, but he immediately stormed off and stubbornly refused to give in to his father's threats. His father couldn't actually send him away from Hogwarts. Slytherin was Gilbert's birthright. It was where he belonged.
It was only when he woke up to a trunk filled with Durmstrang robes that he realized just how serious his father was.
Gilbert packed in shame. His father arrived in the middle, telling him that he would remain at Durmstrang until he came to his senses. The Beilschmidt legacy was more important than Gilbert's silly dreams. It was about time that Gilbert understood that.
As he was sent to Durmstrang, Gilbert's shame was gradually replaced by anger. He would show them. If this was a game of endurance, Gilbert would win.
He arrived at Durmstrang and was immediately sorted into Jord. Over the years, people would often wonder why. Eldur was the house of the passionate, after all, and Tuuli the house of misfits, both of which seemed to make more sense for the loud, outgoing, and mischievous albino. Not that Gilbert knew or cared anything about the different houses at Durmstrang. He would take what he got and make it his own.
There was no hesitation at all in Gilbert. He made friends swiftly and flirted unashamedly. At Hogwarts, although Gilbert had always been somewhat of a troublemaker, he had generally been fairly respectful. At Durmstrang, that changed. The strictness of the school only taunted Gil, and he was more than happy to fall for it each time. Still, he was smart. He knew that being kicked out of Durmstrang was not what he wanted. So each prank he pulled and each rule he broke was done with incredible precision and planning.
Despite Gilbert's dedication to ignoring the rules and his devil-may-care attitude in public, he studied hard in private. After all, if he was going to prove his father wrong, he also had to prove he could be successful without him. At the same time, Gilbert didn't want to lose the carefree image he'd developed. So he studied at night, or early in the mornings. He snuck into the library after lights out to check his work, and occasionally, Gilbert even cornered his professors to ask them additional questions. All of it paid off, resulting in Gilbert earning top grades in the majority of his classes, though he never told anyone other than his closest friends.
There were other things to adjust to in Durmstrang as well, namely the Dark Arts. The course wasn't required, but Gilbert decided to sign up for it anyway. After all, if he was going to go through with rebelling against his family, he had to go all the way.
(A small part of him also thought that if he was going to defend against the dark arts, he should know how they worked, but that would be dangerously close to agreeing with what his family wanted for him and that was not something Gilbert would admit to.)
But by far the best part of Durmstrang, and the first moment that Gilbert felt like he truly belonged, was when he joined the Quidditch team. Tryouts were open to anyone willing, and Gilbert didn't hesitate at the chance to show off his prowess. His flying may have been a little excessively flashy that day (Gilbert really had very few qualms about showing off), but it did the trick. Gilbert made the team.
It was there that he met Antonio Carriedo. Gilbert certainly knew of the Carriedos. Once famed and respected, they had fallen into disgrace due to a series of unsound financial and personal decisions. He'd heard their names amongst the elite from time to time, often accompanied by a shake of the head and a sigh.
The two of them became quick friends, though at the same time, rivals both on the Quidditch field and off. Antonio excelled in the Dark Arts. Really, they were quite a pair. Gilbert excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts. And when Antonio became Captain of the Quidditch Team (because of course he would), Gilbert became Co-Captain alongside him.
Several times, his parents brought up returning to Hogwarts, but Gilbert refused. Part of it was out of pure stubbornness, but a fair amount was because Gilbert had found a home in Durmstrang. He would make something for himself, and of himself.
Yet as Gilbert entered his last year in Durmstrang, he had no idea what exactly he wanted to do. He excelled in all of his studies, yet he didn't have a plan. Suddenly, Gilbert felt lost.
That was when the Triwizard Tournament was announced, and Gilbert immediately decided to put his name down to go. After all, what better place to figure out his future in a sea of other wizards who didn't know either?
rp sample
[attr="class","profileboxscroll"]Gilbert wanted to stuff all his clothing into a duffel bag and call it a day. He wanted to storm out, yell that he was never coming back, and ignore any messages that his parents sent to him through owl. Instead, Gilbert found himself meticulously folding his clothes, creasing the edges of every t-shirt his parents had told him to throw away and placing them into his suitcase carefully, so they filled up the space perfectly.
Yet even as Gilbert folded his clothes, he couldn't help the anger he felt. How could his father simply decide to change Gilbert's entire life like that? He was a Beilschmidt. They were the direct descendants of Reinhold Slytherin Beilschmidt. Gilbert was meant to go to Hogwarts. He was meant to inherit the Beilschmidt tradition. That was what Gilbert had grown up expecting, and now it was being torn out from under him.
Durmstrang. Durmstrang. Wasn't that the opposite of where Gilbert should be? Durmstrang was where the leftovers went. It was where parents sent their children when there was nothing to be expected of them, when they needed to be reformed and taught a lesson. And more than that...Durmstrang was where all the dark wizards sent their children. That wasn't Gilbert. Gilbert was supposed to protect from the Dark Arts, not...
Even as rage boiled in Gilbert, he couldn't erase the small degree of shame in himself either. He wanted to ignore it. He did. After all, it wasn't his fault. Ever since he'd fallen ill when he was a child, his parents had always indicated that Ludwig would be their true heir. Which Gilbert was fine with. Gilbert didn't want to undertake that burden, and as long as Ludwig was alright with it, Gilbert was fine passing on the prestige. And then out of nowhere, they told him that everything he'd believed for the past seven years was a lie.
No one in their right mind could blame Gil for being upset, but his father had taken it poorly. Gilbert had refused to back down and...well...they'd ended up here.
Gilbert looked up at a knock on his door and saw his mother standing there, her face shadowed in concern. Gilbert looked away from her, and despite himself, he felt his cheeks start heating up.
“Gilbert...”
Gilbert made no reply.
“You don't have to go, you know. If you talk to your father, I'm sure he'll be happy to let you go back to Hogwarts.”
Gilbert slammed the top of his suitcase down. His mother flinched.
“I'm going to Durmstrang.”
“Gil...be reasonable. You've already taken on so much of the work...and you've learned so much. It's not a bad future you know.”
“I'm going to Durmstrang,” Gilbert repeated, zipping up his suitcase. “It's happening. I'm not apologizing. I'm going to Durmstrang.”
His mother looked like she wanted to say something else, but instead she bit her lip. “We are still here for you, Gilbert,” she murmured before walking away.
Gilbert waited until she'd left before standing to his feet. He took a deep breath.
He was going to Durmstrang.
He was going to Durmstrang.
He'd show them all exactly how serious he was.
Yet even as Gilbert folded his clothes, he couldn't help the anger he felt. How could his father simply decide to change Gilbert's entire life like that? He was a Beilschmidt. They were the direct descendants of Reinhold Slytherin Beilschmidt. Gilbert was meant to go to Hogwarts. He was meant to inherit the Beilschmidt tradition. That was what Gilbert had grown up expecting, and now it was being torn out from under him.
Durmstrang. Durmstrang. Wasn't that the opposite of where Gilbert should be? Durmstrang was where the leftovers went. It was where parents sent their children when there was nothing to be expected of them, when they needed to be reformed and taught a lesson. And more than that...Durmstrang was where all the dark wizards sent their children. That wasn't Gilbert. Gilbert was supposed to protect from the Dark Arts, not...
Even as rage boiled in Gilbert, he couldn't erase the small degree of shame in himself either. He wanted to ignore it. He did. After all, it wasn't his fault. Ever since he'd fallen ill when he was a child, his parents had always indicated that Ludwig would be their true heir. Which Gilbert was fine with. Gilbert didn't want to undertake that burden, and as long as Ludwig was alright with it, Gilbert was fine passing on the prestige. And then out of nowhere, they told him that everything he'd believed for the past seven years was a lie.
No one in their right mind could blame Gil for being upset, but his father had taken it poorly. Gilbert had refused to back down and...well...they'd ended up here.
Gilbert looked up at a knock on his door and saw his mother standing there, her face shadowed in concern. Gilbert looked away from her, and despite himself, he felt his cheeks start heating up.
“Gilbert...”
Gilbert made no reply.
“You don't have to go, you know. If you talk to your father, I'm sure he'll be happy to let you go back to Hogwarts.”
Gilbert slammed the top of his suitcase down. His mother flinched.
“I'm going to Durmstrang.”
“Gil...be reasonable. You've already taken on so much of the work...and you've learned so much. It's not a bad future you know.”
“I'm going to Durmstrang,” Gilbert repeated, zipping up his suitcase. “It's happening. I'm not apologizing. I'm going to Durmstrang.”
His mother looked like she wanted to say something else, but instead she bit her lip. “We are still here for you, Gilbert,” she murmured before walking away.
Gilbert waited until she'd left before standing to his feet. He took a deep breath.
He was going to Durmstrang.
He was going to Durmstrang.
He'd show them all exactly how serious he was.
other
Wand | |
dragon heartstring | aspen |
thirteen and a half inches | unyielding |
Strongest Subject | Weakest Subject |
DADA | arithmancy |
Familiar | Patronus |
black eagle | |
prussia from hetalia | |
leia | |
width: 1px;[/newclass]
