CHARACTER INFORMATIONCharacter Name:
Alastair Grimm Gender:
MaleAge:
48Education:
Hogwarts, Gryffindor 1937 – 1944
Healer Training and Residency, St. Mungo’sResidence:
St. Albans, EnglandOccupation:
Hospital Director Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (example St Mungo's, the Ministry, Shrieking Shack) or to take over an existing shop in need of new management?
St. Mungo’sRequested Magic Levels:
- Charms: 10
- Transfiguration: 14
- Divination: 7
- Summoning: 9
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
NoPlease list any other characters you already have at the site:
Jessica DaviesBiography: (300 words minimum.)
Alastair Grimm was born in Cheshire, England to two loving and tireless parents, Norwood and Ophelia Grimm. A once proud family, or so the outside of the stately manor house would suggest, the fortunes of the family Grimm had been in poor favor for many generations. The inside of the home reflected this truth in its worn furniture and lack of servants.
Fortunately, the Grimms had something almost as good: children. Children to wash the windows, paint the house, and weed the yard. When their parents could find them that was. Grimm and his siblings learned early on to leave the house with breakfast in their hands and to stay away as long as possible. This was how Alastair first discovered his work. A morning walk through the woods had led him to a small fox with an injured leg. Unable to run away, the fox had promptly been captured for examination. The wounded creature fascinated him. Then, after a makeshift bandage had been made with a bit of fabric torn from his shirt, Alastair let the animal limp off to freedom.
It was then Alastair’s great work began. He studied every new injury he could find. Usually this involved animals he found out of doors, but every once in a while he’d get lucky and his mother would burn herself on the stove or one of his brothers would fall out of a tree. No matter who or what, though, Alastair was there learning and fixing what he could.
When Alastair turned eleven his family was in for an even bigger surprise, a letter of acceptance to Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry accompanied by a visit from his great Aunt Edith who had attended herself. Happy to have another person of magic in the family, his great aunt took it upon herself to assure he had the means to attend.
Alastair went on to make a name for himself at Hogwarts with his exceptional abilities in Transfiguration. In his fifth year, his exemplary Ordinary Wizarding Levels (particularly in Transfiguration, Herbology, and Charms) prompted his head of house to suggest the career in healing that he already had his eye on. NEWTS came and went in equal fashion. He joined the St. Mungo’s staff directly out of school and has been there ever since.Roleplay:
Exceptional Characters
Characters wishing to be an auror, healer, or other character with more than the usual 32 magic levels should reply to the following RP scenario:
Mr. Grunch smirked as stepped into the shadows beneath the overhanging eaves at the side of the street. There was a sort of alcove here, where two buildings came together, and the wall was set back just a couple of feet to make space for a drain from the battered lead guttering. It made it difficult to see if anyone was standing there until you were almost on top of it, and the shape of the roof up above cast an almost permanent shadow even then.
There were a number of such places along Knockturn Alley and Mr. Grunch knew them all.
Seeing nobody was nearby, he quickly cast the concealment spell that would obscure his features, making him unrecognisable, just a blur beneath the cowl of his thick, but worn, robes. He knew his target, had identified them some time before, as they entered the Alley. He had shadowed them, discretely, and now, he knew, they were heading back out again, towards the safety of the better lit Diagon Alley.
He heard the footsteps approaching. This was it, then. Just before they reached the alcove, he stepped out suddenly in front of his target, wand raised and ready.
"Give me all yer galleons, and any jewellery yer got! Don't try to hide nothin', 'cos I'll know, right? Do it now!"
Roleplay Response:Grimm hunched over, pulling the collar of his coat up to cover his neck. Naturally the first day he had been prodded into leaving the office was the day the skies decided to dump water on all the little creatures scurrying around below. It wasn’t just the normal rain showers that came with living in England either, but full out “dark and stormy night” type weather. He didn’t even have his umbrella.
He was supposed to be going out to lunch. His secretary had insisted, showing him on her calendar that the last time he had stepped foot outside St. Mungo’s had been a good two and a half weeks prior and that had only been to run home to St. Albans to give his clothes a proper wash. So he had gone, if only to avoid being hounded all afternoon by her incessant squawking when he was trying to get his work done. There was a new case of dragon pox being transferred in, and they’d been agreeable to being involved with the trial run of a new formula aimed at reducing how contagious the victim became. He wasn’t going to miss that for anything.
He was supposed to be going out to lunch, but with the rain and the lack of desire to be gone too long from the office, he decided instead to take a quick detour round to Alles Saugt. He sloshed though a puddle, soaking his shoes thouroughly. He grimaced. To the bookstore and then right back home he thought. Right back to the office, he corrected himself silently.
A dark figure materialized in front of him. Menacing figures were not such an unusual sight down the twisty turns of Knockturn Alley as to give him pause, but the wand was. Grimm eyed the figure and the weapon positioned far to close for comfort. His hand twitched as every instinct he had told him to grab his own wand, but instead his forced his hands up in a gesture of surrender. Then he retrieved all the change he had in his pocket.
“I don’t have any jewelry, but...”
What better way to ensure he was never forced out of his office for lunch again then to have been mugged at wand-point in the pouring rain? This was possibly the best thing that had happened to him a long time. He held the coins out to the bandit.
“Here.”
He cleared his throat.
“Out of curiosity,” he continued, waiting for the wand to lower, “Did you recently sprain your wrist? Your wand grip doesn't seem to follow the usual practice I remember from school.”
