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Antonius Fittleworth

    (05/07/2021 at 23:50)
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center]E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D [/center]

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name:
Antonius Artemis Fittleworth

Gender:
Male.

Age:
10.

Bloodline:
Half-blood.

Parents/Guardians:
  • Artemius Fittleworth. (Father) †
  • Aurelia Fittleworth. (Mother) †
  • Alice Underwood. (Custodian)

Residence: Hogsmeade Children's Home.

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place?
As will be made apparent in the bio, Antonius would feasibly have been acquainted with wizards from London and Upper Flagley in Yorkshire. He might also have come across some from Godric's Hollow and elsewhere in Diagon Alley, I am open to most relations. :-)

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
See above and let me know if you're interested in including Antonius in something ongoing.
 
Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
None.

Biography:
The scion of an old wizarding family known for its long history in traditional governance, Antonius Fittleworth grew up in clover at a handsome townhouse in Whitechapel, on the East End of London. Having erred on the side of caution where the Statutes of Secrecy were concerned, however, his parents did not allow him to play with the children of neighbouring Muggles in case he let slip the truth of who and what they were. As such, as much as he enjoyed the perks that came with a privileged upbringing, it was also a somewhat lonely existence. The only times he was actually around peers and playmates were during visits to Diagon Alley, or when his parents hosted dinner parties for friends and family, causing little Antonius to spend an inordinate amount of time in the family library. This changed during the summer months, however, during which his family would invariably enjoy the holidays in the countryside at 'The Nook'; a tiny cottage surrounded by lush greenery that they owned on the outskirts of the little village of Upper Flagley in Yorkshire.

Considerably more lax with the rules there than they were at home, for those couple of months each beach season, Antonius was free to play with other children to his heart's content, if only because most of the ones he typically associated with there came from local wizarding families that his father were friendly with. Of a decidedly more bookish bent than most children his age, though; when he was not swimming at the beach or running around in the woods with peers and acting out their favourite scenes from The Detective Files of Conebush and Persimmons, (a game that became increasingly elaborate and improvisational as Antonius and his friends grew older), or playing down-scaled Quidditch matches in the paddock out back of their cottage, (the previous owner was an old recluse that bred Hippogriffs as a hobby); Antonius would enjoy quiet hours in a hammock by day with only a stack of comic books to keep him company, and with his mother - who was in the Frog Choir while attending Hogwarts - singing him to sleep come nightfall.

Accomplished in the magical arts and successful in their respective careers; although their family coffers at Gringotts Wizarding Bank allowed Fittleworths could comfortably support themselves without the need of a paying job, it was generally felt by those who knew them the best that Antonius' parents had both been roused to the pursuit of altruism by hardships in their youth, and that what had initially unified them even prior to their first date were their shared understanding that the best way to live was by giving more than you get. And so, the pair of them had gone out of their way to find a steady full time job for themselves as to contribute to the magical community besides the annual Hexing Tax. In consequence, Antonius attended the AB&C Daycare in Diagon Alley when he was little. This would change, however, after Mr. Fittleworth won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw and placed the seven hundred galleon prize money in a Junior Wizard Savings Account in their son's name to do with as he pleased. And use them he did:

Before Artemius Fittleworth settled down with the Muggle-born witch from Godric's Hollow that was Antonius' mother, he was a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank, and even after his son had heard each and every tale he had to tell, there was still nothing he liked better on those late summer evenings at the edge of Upper Flagley than when the members from the local magical community popped by for a visit and gathered around as his father put on his 'scary voice' and laid out about his many adventures around the world; of braving ancient Mayan ruins in Guatemala and forgotten tombs in Egypt. Of recovering stolen assets from mingy vampires in the Black Forest, and such daring expeditions as deep-sea diving to retrieve sunken treasure from the Bermuda Triangle and exploring the volcanic ruins of Krakatoa, all of which played no small part in shaping the adventurous streak that saw Antonius make a choice that would bring about "the incident". The day of bereavement and tragedy that changed the young boy's life forever.
 
Deciding that he wanted to do something out of the ordinary and be the one to treat his parents to an exciting experience for once, on July 13, 1962, the Fittleworths, having boarded the long-distance train from Platform Seven and a Half at King's Cross Station, set off to wizard-only villages in continental Europe. In a bad turn of fate, however, their summer holiday was cut tragically short when their visit when their visit coincided with an assault by a band of unscrupulous wizard poachers. With curses flying and the dozens of huge, fire-breathing beasts in a crazed frenzy, what was meant to have been an exotic and pleasant excursion swiftly became by far the most dangerous day in Antonius' life, and when his father ordered him to run and hide, Antonius obeyed him without a second thought. Having resolved to help local dragon keepers in keeping the attackers at bay until reinforcements arrived, Antonius parents fought like true heroes that day. A dozen poachers had attacked the reserve, and when the Aurors began showing up, were soundly defeated.
 
There is truth to the claim that there is always a calm before the storm: There was a moment, while the Aurors were busy rounding up those of the attackers that had not managed to flee, the dragon keepers busy trying to settle down their charges, and his parents were crossing the reserve in leaps and bounds calling for Antonius, when the danger had seemed to pass. That was, however, all it took to set off a particularly angry female Norwegian Ridgeback that had taken a Conjunctivitis Curse to its face. Antonius and his parents had nearly rejoined in a relieved embrace when the two latter were engulfed by dragon fire and all but reduced to ash right in front of him. The trip back to England three days later was done in the company of strangers; a couple of Aurors that the Norwegian Ministry of Magic had tasked with seeing the boy back safely while they made the necessary preparations for the remains of Antonius' parents to be received by its British counterpart. They were laid to rest at St Jerome's graveyard in Godric's Hollow, his mother's birthplace.

Grief-stricken and miserable, the fact that his parents both posthumously received an Order of Merlin, First Class for their bravery mattered very little to Antonius, who had a temporary custodian was appointed to him by the Ministry of Magic that conveniently enough lived within walking distance from where the funeral took place and housed the boy for almost a week before bringing back to to the now empty house in London to pack his things, before he was shipped off to the Scottish Highlands to live out the rest of his formative years at an orphanage in Hogsmeade Village. And while he was met with kindness and understanding from the Matron, Ms. Underwood, the last year have not been an altogether easy one: For the first couple of months there, he would barely eat and spent most of his time curled up in his bunk, sobbing quietly, and as politely as he could manage rejected all attempts at socialisation from the other orphans at the Home. And here we are a year later, with Antonius taking one day at the time and heading for normalcy.

Roleplay:
Reply as your character to the following:

Godric Park.

Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue, for once clear of the ever-pervasive spongy clouds and rain. The sun was a lemony-yellow presence, high in the Eastern sky, and in front of it zipped three broomsticks in a straight line, or something very like one. One... two..... three... the boys passed, their shouts of excitement echoing as they chased the snitch, a tiny shimmer reflecting the sunlight.

Far below was another, much smaller broomstick.

It trugged along the ground, hugging close to it like a sluggish choo choo train and occasionally shuttering in protest. This was because said stick was currently being occupied by a very small girl who was tugging upward on the front of it with all her might, trying to coax it into doing what it had been expressly designed NOT to do.

"John, I said wait up!" The tiny girl squealed, giving the broomstick another tug.

Begrudgingly, it drifted upward a foot, and then sank, depositing the troublesome girl safely on the ground. Janey Hurst was not pleased. In a huff, she hopped off the toy safety broom, grabbing it firmly and thrusting it handle first into the turf.

Her brother was such a beast. He NEVER let her play! She folded her arms, seething blue eyes fixing on another figure nearby.  "You!" She barked, much more sharply than she meant to.

"...Do you want to play?"

Roleplay Response:
It was a warm summer evening in the Scottish Highlands, and for nearly a week now, it had been preceded by warm summer mornings. And on each and every one of these, Antonius had stood by the window and peered out of it while contemplating his woes, his brow furrowed by lines that told a tale of deep-seated indignation. It was the crisp blue sky he was gazing at. Actually, he was glaring at it; and to the casual observer he might seem like he were trying to somehow will the weather to be intellectually honest with him. In Scotland, such summer days were long, and it would not get fully dark until well past ten o'clock at night, and it all seemed wrong somehow. Every bloody day, the sun rose up over the rooftops of Hogsmeade Village, and the whole wide world seemed fresh and bright and simmering with life. There was a cheer on every face and a spring in every step, meanwhile, had the colour of Antonius' innards reflected the state of his being, they would most assuredly have assumed various shades of somber grey.

Everything considered, he would go so far as to say that the cheeriness of his surroundings and how he felt inside, was so at odds with each other that when the whenever the weather were pleasant, it felt as though mother nature was playing a trick on him. For surely, somehow, somewhere, there had to be someone other than him who also realized that it was not, to put it at its mildest, as good a day as the weather so deceptively made it appear to be? Then the silence was broken by a sudden series of sharp knocks from the front of the room, but the boy did not start or even turn around as the door behind him swung open. He had expected it. When his parents was ripped from him, it had been as if something inside Antonius had shattered into a thousand or more pieces, and ever since he arrived at the orphanage, Ms. Underwood had apparently made it her mission in life to put it back together. Just how successful she had been was yet to be settled, at least he was no longer spending all day every day under the covers, bawling.

In consequence, the establishment in question had gradually begun to lay a steadily elongating list of normative expectations upon his person of the sort that had long since become commonplace for his peers, and not spending every waking moment cooped up inside on such a 'beautiful day' was one of them: A new routine had been introduced on his daily schedule where a custodian would insist that he stepped outside, he would be stubborn in his refusal, and then have to suffer himself to be led by the collar by the Matron before he would finally take a walk like a good little boy. But even then, his sorrows was great enough that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; prompting him to instead seek lonely and deserted places that were in harmony with his spirit. Antonius had lost count of just how many times he had gone up the rough mud track that to the entrance gates of Hogwarts Castle just to gaze upon the vast and towering jumble of towers and battlements beyond it.

More so than simply being one of the most prestigious halls of learning that the world wizarding community had to offer, it was the school of his parents, and though his soul was steeped in melancholy, he had managed to cling onto the faint hope that perhaps they had left behind something of themselves behind those walls. Something a bit more substantial for him to remember them by than some of family photos and the vividly recurring nightmare where he relived their untimely demise over and over. Not this time, though. His journeys uphill to where the castle were situated had been observed and commented upon by some of the locals a few days before, one of which had counseled caution and reminded him that as the new term grew ever nearer, the faculty at the school would soon be arriving to make the necessary preparations for the new batch of First Years, and asked him to refrain from going back so he would not run the risk of disrupting their progress. Reluctantly, Antonius had given his word, and then kept his word.

Instead, he had set the course for Godric Park; a haven of recreation for the children of the village, and occasionally also a favourite stamping ground for their parents. When he arrived at the edge of it, he came to a halt at the sign carrying the proclamation of his immediate surroundings and regarded said grounds with a look of disrelish. As a general thing, he enjoyed to keep company with people, but his mind was still in a state of such despondency that at this instant, those present were more numerous by far than he felt partial to associating with. And so, when the boy pushed onward, he did so with all the grace and enthusiasm of a woebegone sloth; a look that perfectly reflected the boy's abject misery. But no sooner had he recommenced his promenade before he caught glimpse of another boy in the corner of his eye coming up next to him; a lad three years his junior by the name of Cornelius H. Fidget, a local fledgling who always sought to socialise with him; and especially when Antonius did not feel the least bit sociable. 

"Ye reckon they named Godric's Park efter Godric Gryffindur, Anton?"

If Antonius had been a crueler individual, perhaps he would have disregarded the boy's presence entirely. Perhaps. Perhaps he would have refrained from responding to this latest inquiry and instead simply tended to his own business, as planned. Granted, it was not a very ambitious scheme he had in mind; comprised only of walking the length of the park and hopefully find an empty bench in the shade where he can sit by his lonesome and hopefully avoid unsought fraternisation by immersing himself in the book he was carrying under his arm. Merlin knew he wanted to do it something fierce, but he also knew from past experience that the Fidgets were like dogs with a bone. Once their minds were made up on a particular enterprise, they were not easily discouraged, so it was hardly worth the headache it would take to try and rid himself of his company. Moreover, it would have been bloody rude.

With the current state of affairs being what they were, Antonius, rather than giving his vexation a premature outlet in the form of snide remarks that would only serve to hurt Cornelius' feelings at best or earn him his mothers ire at worst, instead drew a deep breath and reminded himself of his courtesies. Then he moved to face him proper, offered him a slight nod and a halfhearted "I mean, the name's a bit of a giveaway, innit?", before he sallied forth into the park, with tiny Cornelius hard on his heels.

"Wa dae ye hink they named th' park efter Gryffindur then?"

"How should I know? Yor born and raised 'ere, mate, shouldn't yer be an expert on Hogsmeade or somefink?"

"Ah suppose Ah coods ask mah parents..."

"Go and do that, then."

"Mah Dad's still at wark. Mah Mum's ower at a mukker reit noo, but Ah dunnae kinn if she'd know, she's frae Kent."

"Do you want to play?"
 
The extent to which Antonius desired the ability to bewitch the eye that beholds his being as to determine for himself who he wanted to be aware of him had already grown exponentially. He heaved a mighty sigh and had half a mind to just raise his arms high and shout for Cornelius to please leave him be, when all of a sudden it dawned on him that the last voice that reached him was that of a girl. He stopped dead in his tracks, blinked and spun around until he faced her. She was tiny - smaller even than Cornelius. He looked between the two prospective companions and decided that perhaps the girl - Jane Hurst, he thought her name was - might be the lesser of two evils.  "Arright." he agreed, eager to get away from his pursuer. "Arright, so wot did yer 'ave in mind?"


OTHER
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Calypso Ross

    (06/07/2021 at 17:39)
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Hi Antonius, welcome back!

Your application looks good, there's just a couple of things you'll need to edit before we can get you accepted.

You mention Alice Underwood, the matron of Hogsmeade Children's Home several times in your biography. Whilst it's fine to refer to her, it's worth bearing in mind that this is the description in the information thread (you're currently unable to see this, as you don't have access to our Elsewhere board):

Quote
No one knows exactly what Mrs. Underwood looks like, though there are a number of rumors. The only thing that's known for sure is that she only leaves her office during the late hours of the night and converses with the rest of the staff through notes delivered by owl.

A better replacement might be one of the following, as Antonius would never have seen Mrs. Underwood in person:

Quote
Callidora Beamish - Staff (NPC)
Mrs. Beamish is forever gushing to anyone who will listen about her soldier husband. He fought in the War, did you know?

Flora Withey - Staff (NPC)
Miss Withey is a quiet one. She keeps her appearance neat and her personal business to herself. She likes to sit under the large apple tree out front after the end of each shift.

Hildegard Frogg - Cook (NPC)
Ms. Frogg is a pleasant, middle-aged woman who can often be found slipping an extra carrot or two onto the plates of hungry children. She's also quite handy with small home repairs around the kitchen.

Harriet Nettlebed - Staff, Tutor (NPC)
Miss Nettlebed likes nothing more than a clean face and a tidy room. She's also a stickler for the rules, so best hide your contraband treasures well when she's on room inspections!

Percy Elphick - Staff, Tutor (NPC)
Mr. Elphick is a former field medic, and is particularly knowledgeable in goblin histories. He has a fondness for silent reading and apples.

You'll need to replace any mentions of Alice Underwood which don't align with her description with another staff member instead. Alternatively, you can remove mentions of staff entirely.

Once you've made the required changes, please repost your entire revised application below, and we'll be more than happy to take another look. Thanks!

G
Daring, Determination, Drive

Antonius Fittleworth

    (06/07/2021 at 22:22)
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E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name:
Antonius Artemis Fittleworth

Gender:
Male.

Age:
10.

Bloodline:
Half-blood.

Parents/Guardians:
  • Artemius Fittleworth. (Father) †
  • Aurelia Fittleworth. (Mother) †
  • Alice Underwood. (Custodian-in-Chief)
  • Callidora Beamish. (Custodian)
  • Hildegard Frogg. (Custodian)
  • Harriet Nettlebed . (Custodian)
  • Percy Elphick. (Custodian)

Residence: Hogsmeade Children's Home.

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place?
As will be made apparent in the bio, Antonius would feasibly have been acquainted with wizards from London and Upper Flagley in Yorkshire. He might also have come across some from Godric's Hollow and elsewhere in Diagon Alley, I am open to most relations. :-)

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
See above and let me know if you're interested in including Antonius in something ongoing.
 
Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
None.

Biography:
The scion of an old wizarding family known for its long history in traditional governance, Antonius Fittleworth grew up in clover at a handsome townhouse in Whitechapel, on the East End of London. Having erred on the side of caution where the Statutes of Secrecy were concerned, however, his parents did not allow him to play with the children of neighbouring Muggles in case he let slip the truth of who and what they were. As such, as much as he enjoyed the perks that came with a privileged upbringing, it was also a somewhat lonely existence. The only times he was actually around peers and playmates were during visits to Diagon Alley, or when his parents hosted dinner parties for friends and family, causing little Antonius to spend an inordinate amount of time in the family library. This changed during the summer months, however, during which his family would invariably enjoy the holidays in the countryside at 'The Nook'; a tiny cottage surrounded by lush greenery that they owned on the outskirts of the little village of Upper Flagley in Yorkshire.

Considerably more lax with the rules there than they were at home, for those couple of months each beach season, Antonius was free to play with other children to his heart's content, if only because most of the ones he typically associated with there came from local wizarding families that his father were friendly with. Of a decidedly more bookish bent than most children his age, though; when he was not swimming at the beach or running around in the woods with peers and acting out their favourite scenes from The Detective Files of Conebush and Persimmons, (a game that became increasingly elaborate and improvisational as Antonius and his friends grew older), or playing down-scaled Quidditch matches in the paddock out back of their cottage, (the previous owner was an old recluse that bred Hippogriffs as a hobby); Antonius would enjoy quiet hours in a hammock by day with only a stack of comic books to keep him company, and with his mother - who was in the Frog Choir while attending Hogwarts - singing him to sleep come nightfall.

Accomplished in the magical arts and successful in their respective careers; although their family coffers at Gringotts Wizarding Bank allowed Fittleworths could comfortably support themselves without the need of a paying job, it was generally felt by those who knew them the best that Antonius' parents had both been roused to the pursuit of altruism by hardships in their youth, and that what had initially unified them even prior to their first date were their shared understanding that the best way to live was by giving more than you get. And so, the pair of them had gone out of their way to find a steady full time job for themselves as to contribute to the magical community besides the annual Hexing Tax. In consequence, Antonius attended the AB&C Daycare in Diagon Alley when he was little. This would change, however, after Mr. Fittleworth won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw and placed the seven hundred galleon prize money in a Junior Wizard Savings Account in their son's name to do with as he pleased. And use them he did:

Before Artemius Fittleworth settled down with the Muggle-born witch from Godric's Hollow that was Antonius' mother, he was a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank, and even after his son had heard each and every tale he had to tell, there was still nothing he liked better on those late summer evenings at the edge of Upper Flagley than when the members from the local magical community popped by for a visit and gathered around as his father put on his 'scary voice' and laid out about his many adventures around the world; of braving ancient Mayan ruins in Guatemala and forgotten tombs in Egypt. Of recovering stolen assets from mingy vampires in the Black Forest, and such daring expeditions as deep-sea diving to retrieve sunken treasure from the Bermuda Triangle and exploring the volcanic ruins of Krakatoa, all of which played no small part in shaping the adventurous streak that saw Antonius make a choice that would bring about "the incident". The day of bereavement and tragedy that changed the young boy's life forever.
 
Deciding that he wanted to do something out of the ordinary and be the one to treat his parents to an exciting experience for once, on July 13, 1962, the Fittleworths, having boarded the long-distance train from Platform Seven and a Half at King's Cross Station, set off to wizard-only villages in continental Europe. In a bad turn of fate, however, their summer holiday was cut tragically short when their visit when their visit coincided with an assault by a band of unscrupulous wizard poachers. With curses flying and the dozens of huge, fire-breathing beasts in a crazed frenzy, what was meant to have been an exotic and pleasant excursion swiftly became by far the most dangerous day in Antonius' life, and when his father ordered him to run and hide, Antonius obeyed him without a second thought. Having resolved to help local dragon keepers in keeping the attackers at bay until reinforcements arrived, Antonius parents fought like true heroes that day. A dozen poachers had attacked the reserve, and when the Aurors began showing up, were soundly defeated.
 
There is truth to the claim that there is always a calm before the storm: There was a moment, while the Aurors were busy rounding up those of the attackers that had not managed to flee, the dragon keepers busy trying to settle down their charges, and his parents were crossing the reserve in leaps and bounds calling for Antonius, when the danger had seemed to pass. That was, however, all it took to set off a particularly angry female Norwegian Ridgeback that had taken a Conjunctivitis Curse to its face. Antonius and his parents had nearly rejoined in a relieved embrace when the two latter were engulfed by dragon fire and all but reduced to ash right in front of him. The trip back to England three days later was done in the company of strangers; a couple of Aurors that the Norwegian Ministry of Magic had tasked with seeing the boy back safely while they made the necessary preparations for the remains of Antonius' parents to be received by its British counterpart. They were laid to rest at St Jerome's graveyard in Godric's Hollow, his mother's birthplace.

Grief-stricken and miserable, the fact that his parents both posthumously received an Order of Merlin, First Class for their bravery mattered very little to Antonius, who had a temporary custodian was appointed to him by the Ministry of Magic that conveniently enough lived within walking distance from where the funeral took place and housed the boy for almost a week before bringing back to to the now empty house in London to pack his things, before he was shipped off to the Scottish Highlands to live out the rest of his formative years at an orphanage in Hogsmeade Village. And while he was met with kindness and understanding from the staff; in particular by the kindly old cook, Madam Frogg, who made a point of delivering meals to Antonius's room in person when he first arrived and always lingered by the door a bit longer than necessary just in case he needed to talk, the last year have not been an altogether easy one: For the first couple of months there, he would barely eat and spent most of his time curled up in his bunk, sobbing quietly, and as politely as he could manage rejected all attempts at socialisation from the other orphans at the Home. And here we are a year later, with Antonius taking one day at the time and heading for normalcy.

Roleplay:
Reply as your character to the following:

Godric Park.

Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue, for once clear of the ever-pervasive spongy clouds and rain. The sun was a lemony-yellow presence, high in the Eastern sky, and in front of it zipped three broomsticks in a straight line, or something very like one. One... two..... three... the boys passed, their shouts of excitement echoing as they chased the snitch, a tiny shimmer reflecting the sunlight.

Far below was another, much smaller broomstick.

It trugged along the ground, hugging close to it like a sluggish choo choo train and occasionally shuttering in protest. This was because said stick was currently being occupied by a very small girl who was tugging upward on the front of it with all her might, trying to coax it into doing what it had been expressly designed NOT to do.

"John, I said wait up!" The tiny girl squealed, giving the broomstick another tug.

Begrudgingly, it drifted upward a foot, and then sank, depositing the troublesome girl safely on the ground. Janey Hurst was not pleased. In a huff, she hopped off the toy safety broom, grabbing it firmly and thrusting it handle first into the turf.

Her brother was such a beast. He NEVER let her play! She folded her arms, seething blue eyes fixing on another figure nearby.  "You!" She barked, much more sharply than she meant to.

"...Do you want to play?"

Roleplay Response:
It was a warm summer evening in the Scottish Highlands, and for nearly a week now, it had been preceded by warm summer mornings. And on each and every one of these, Antonius had stood by the window and peered out of it while contemplating his woes, his brow furrowed by lines that told a tale of deep-seated indignation. It was the crisp blue sky he was gazing at. Actually, he was glaring at it; and to the casual observer he might seem like he were trying to somehow will the weather to be intellectually honest with him. In Scotland, such summer days were long, and it would not get fully dark until well past ten o'clock at night, and it all seemed wrong somehow. Every bloody day, the sun rose up over the rooftops of Hogsmeade Village, and the whole wide world seemed fresh and bright and simmering with life. There was a cheer on every face and a spring in every step, meanwhile, had the colour of Antonius' innards reflected the state of his being, they would most assuredly have assumed various shades of somber grey.

Everything considered, he would go so far as to say that the cheeriness of his surroundings and how he felt inside, was so at odds with each other that when the the weather was fair, it felt as though mother nature was playing a trick on him. For surely, somehow, somewhere, there had to be someone other than him who also realized that it was not, to put it at its mildest, as good a day as the weather so deceptively made it appear to be? Then the silence was broken by a sudden series of sharp knocks from the front of the room, but the boy did not start or even turn around as the door behind him swung open. He had expected it. When his parents was ripped from him, it had been as if something inside Antonius had shattered into a thousand or more pieces, and ever since he arrived at the orphanage, certain members of the staff had apparently made it their mission in life to put it back together. Just how successful they had been at this endeavour was yet to be settled, however. But at least he was no longer spending all day every day under the covers, bawling.

In consequence, the establishment in question had gradually begun to lay a steadily elongating list of normative expectations upon his person of the sort that had long since become commonplace for his peers, and not spending every waking moment cooped up inside on such a 'beautiful day' was one of them: A new routine had been introduced on his daily schedule where a custodian would insist that he stepped outside, he would be stubborn in his refusal, and then have to suffer himself to be led by the collar by the Matron before he would finally take a walk like a good little boy. But even then, his sorrows was great enough that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; prompting him to instead seek lonely and deserted places that were in harmony with his spirit. Antonius had lost count of just how many times he had gone up the rough mud track that to the entrance gates of Hogwarts Castle just to gaze upon the vast and towering jumble of towers and battlements beyond it.

More so than simply being one of the most prestigious halls of learning that the world wizarding community had to offer, it was the school of his parents, and though his soul was steeped in melancholy, he had managed to cling onto the faint hope that perhaps they had left behind something of themselves behind those walls. Something a bit more substantial for him to remember them by than some of family photos and the vividly recurring nightmare where he relived their untimely demise over and over. Not this time, though. His journeys uphill to where the castle were situated had been observed and commented upon by some of the locals a few days before, one of which had counseled caution and reminded him that as the new term grew ever nearer, the faculty at the school would soon be arriving to make the necessary preparations for the new batch of First Years, and asked him to refrain from going back so he would not run the risk of disrupting their progress. Reluctantly, Antonius had given his word, and then kept his word.

Instead, he had set the course for Godric Park; a haven of recreation for the children of the village, and occasionally also a favourite stamping ground for their parents. When he arrived at the edge of it, he came to a halt at the sign carrying the proclamation of his immediate surroundings and regarded said grounds with a look of disrelish. As a general thing, he enjoyed to keep company with people, but his mind was still in a state of such despondency that at this instant, those present were more numerous by far than he felt partial to associating with. And so, when the boy pushed onward, he did so with all the grace and enthusiasm of a woebegone sloth; a look that perfectly reflected the boy's abject misery. But no sooner had he recommenced his promenade before he caught glimpse of another boy in the corner of his eye coming up next to him; a lad three years his junior by the name of Cornelius H. Fidget, a local fledgling who always sought to socialise with him; and especially when Antonius did not feel the least bit sociable. 

"Ye reckon they named Godric's Park efter Godric Gryffindur, Anton?"

If Antonius had been a crueler individual, perhaps he would have disregarded the boy's presence entirely. Perhaps. Perhaps he would have refrained from responding to this latest inquiry and instead simply tended to his own business, as planned. Granted, it was not a very ambitious scheme he had in mind; comprised only of walking the length of the park and hopefully find an empty bench in the shade where he can sit by his lonesome and hopefully avoid unsought fraternisation by immersing himself in the book he was carrying under his arm. Merlin knew he wanted to do it something fierce, but he also knew from past experience that the Fidgets were like dogs with a bone. Once their minds were made up on a particular enterprise, they were not easily discouraged, so it was hardly worth the headache it would take to try and rid himself of his company. Moreover, it would have been bloody rude.

With the current state of affairs being what they were, Antonius, rather than giving his vexation a premature outlet in the form of snide remarks that would only serve to hurt Cornelius' feelings at best or earn him his mothers ire at worst, instead drew a deep breath and reminded himself of his courtesies. Then he moved to face him proper, offered him a slight nod and a halfhearted "I mean, the name's a bit of a giveaway, innit?", before he sallied forth into the park, with tiny Cornelius hard on his heels.

"Wa dae ye hink they named th' park efter Gryffindur then?"

"How should I know? Yor born and raised 'ere, mate, shouldn't yer be an expert on Hogsmeade or somefink?"

"Ah suppose Ah coods ask mah parents..."

"Go and do that, then."

"Mah Dad's still at wark. Mah Mum's ower at a mukker reit noo, but Ah dunnae kinn if she'd know, she's frae Kent."

"Do you want to play?"
 
The extent to which Antonius desired the ability to bewitch the eye that beholds his being as to determine for himself who he wanted to be aware of him had already grown exponentially. He heaved a mighty sigh and had half a mind to just raise his arms high and shout for Cornelius to please leave him be, when all of a sudden it dawned on him that the last voice that reached him was that of a girl. He stopped dead in his tracks, blinked and spun around until he faced her. She was tiny - smaller even than Cornelius. He looked between the two prospective companions and decided that perhaps the girl - Jane Hurst, he thought her name was - might be the lesser of two evils.  "Arright." he agreed, eager to get away from his pursuer. "Arright, so wot did yer 'ave in mind?"


OTHER
How did you find us? Returning member

Antonius Fittleworth

    (06/07/2021 at 22:24)
  • Child
    • View Profile
E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name:
Antonius Artemis Fittleworth

Gender:
Male.

Age:
10.

Bloodline:
Half-blood.

Parents/Guardians:
  • Artemius Fittleworth. (Father) †
  • Aurelia Fittleworth. (Mother) †
  • Alice Underwood. (Custodian-in-Chief)
  • Callidora Beamish. (Custodian)
  • Hildegard Frogg. (Custodian)
  • Harriet Nettlebed . (Custodian)
  • Percy Elphick. (Custodian)

Residence: Hogsmeade Children's Home.

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place?
As will be made apparent in the bio, Antonius would feasibly have been acquainted with wizards from London and Upper Flagley in Yorkshire. He might also have come across some from Godric's Hollow and elsewhere in Diagon Alley, I am open to most relations. :-)

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
See above and let me know if you're interested in including Antonius in something ongoing.
 
Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
None.

Biography:
The scion of an old wizarding family known for its long history in traditional governance, Antonius Fittleworth grew up in clover at a handsome townhouse in Whitechapel, on the East End of London. Having erred on the side of caution where the Statutes of Secrecy were concerned, however, his parents did not allow him to play with the children of neighbouring Muggles in case he let slip the truth of who and what they were. As such, as much as he enjoyed the perks that came with a privileged upbringing, it was also a somewhat lonely existence. The only times he was actually around peers and playmates were during visits to Diagon Alley, or when his parents hosted dinner parties for friends and family, causing little Antonius to spend an inordinate amount of time in the family library. This changed during the summer months, however, during which his family would invariably enjoy the holidays in the countryside at 'The Nook'; a tiny cottage surrounded by lush greenery that they owned on the outskirts of the little village of Upper Flagley in Yorkshire.

Considerably more lax with the rules there than they were at home, for those couple of months each beach season, Antonius was free to play with other children to his heart's content, if only because most of the ones he typically associated with there came from local wizarding families that his father were friendly with. Of a decidedly more bookish bent than most children his age, though; when he was not swimming at the beach or running around in the woods with peers and acting out their favourite scenes from The Detective Files of Conebush and Persimmons, (a game that became increasingly elaborate and improvisational as Antonius and his friends grew older), or playing down-scaled Quidditch matches in the paddock out back of their cottage, (the previous owner was an old recluse that bred Hippogriffs as a hobby); Antonius would enjoy quiet hours in a hammock by day with only a stack of comic books to keep him company, and with his mother - who was in the Frog Choir while attending Hogwarts - singing him to sleep come nightfall.

Accomplished in the magical arts and successful in their respective careers; although their family coffers at Gringotts Wizarding Bank allowed Fittleworths could comfortably support themselves without the need of a paying job, it was generally felt by those who knew them the best that Antonius' parents had both been roused to the pursuit of altruism by hardships in their youth, and that what had initially unified them even prior to their first date were their shared understanding that the best way to live was by giving more than you get. And so, the pair of them had gone out of their way to find a steady full time job for themselves as to contribute to the magical community besides the annual Hexing Tax. In consequence, Antonius attended the AB&C Daycare in Diagon Alley when he was little. This would change, however, after Mr. Fittleworth won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw and placed the seven hundred galleon prize money in a Junior Wizard Savings Account in their son's name to do with as he pleased. And use them he did:

Before Artemius Fittleworth settled down with the Muggle-born witch from Godric's Hollow that was Antonius' mother, he was a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank, and even after his son had heard each and every tale he had to tell, there was still nothing he liked better on those late summer evenings at the edge of Upper Flagley than when the members from the local magical community popped by for a visit and gathered around as his father put on his 'scary voice' and laid out about his many adventures around the world; of braving ancient Mayan ruins in Guatemala and forgotten tombs in Egypt. Of recovering stolen assets from mingy vampires in the Black Forest, and such daring expeditions as deep-sea diving to retrieve sunken treasure from the Bermuda Triangle and exploring the volcanic ruins of Krakatoa, all of which played no small part in shaping the adventurous streak that saw Antonius make a choice that would bring about "the incident". The day of bereavement and tragedy that changed the young boy's life forever.
 
Deciding that he wanted to do something out of the ordinary and be the one to treat his parents to an exciting experience for once, on July 13, 1962, the Fittleworths, having boarded the long-distance train from Platform Seven and a Half at King's Cross Station, set off to wizard-only villages in continental Europe. In a bad turn of fate, however, their summer holiday was cut tragically short when their visit when their visit coincided with an assault by a band of unscrupulous wizard poachers. With curses flying and the dozens of huge, fire-breathing beasts in a crazed frenzy, what was meant to have been an exotic and pleasant excursion swiftly became by far the most dangerous day in Antonius' life, and when his father ordered him to run and hide, Antonius obeyed him without a second thought. Having resolved to help local dragon keepers in keeping the attackers at bay until reinforcements arrived, Antonius parents fought like true heroes that day. A dozen poachers had attacked the reserve, and when the Aurors began showing up, were soundly defeated.
 
There is truth to the claim that there is always a calm before the storm: There was a moment, while the Aurors were busy rounding up those of the attackers that had not managed to flee, the dragon keepers busy trying to settle down their charges, and his parents were crossing the reserve in leaps and bounds calling for Antonius, when the danger had seemed to pass. That was, however, all it took to set off a particularly angry female Norwegian Ridgeback that had taken a Conjunctivitis Curse to its face. Antonius and his parents had nearly rejoined in a relieved embrace when the two latter were engulfed by dragon fire and all but reduced to ash right in front of him. The trip back to England three days later was done in the company of strangers; a couple of Aurors that the Norwegian Ministry of Magic had tasked with seeing the boy back safely while they made the necessary preparations for the remains of Antonius' parents to be received by its British counterpart. They were laid to rest at St Jerome's graveyard in Godric's Hollow, his mother's birthplace.

Grief-stricken and miserable, the fact that his parents both posthumously received an Order of Merlin, First Class for their bravery mattered very little to Antonius, who had a temporary custodian was appointed to him by the Ministry of Magic that conveniently enough lived within walking distance from where the funeral took place and housed the boy for almost a week before bringing back to to the now empty house in London to pack his things, before he was shipped off to the Scottish Highlands to live out the rest of his formative years at an orphanage in Hogsmeade Village. And while he was met with kindness and understanding from the staff; in particular by the kindly old cook, Madam Frogg, who made a point of delivering meals to Antonius's room in person when he first arrived and always lingered by the door a bit longer than necessary just in case he needed to talk, the last year have not been an altogether easy one: For the first couple of months there, he would barely eat and spent most of his time curled up in his bunk, sobbing quietly, and as politely as he could manage rejected all attempts at socialisation from the other orphans at the Home. And here we are a year later, with Antonius taking one day at the time and heading for normalcy.

Roleplay:
Reply as your character to the following:

Godric Park.

Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue, for once clear of the ever-pervasive spongy clouds and rain. The sun was a lemony-yellow presence, high in the Eastern sky, and in front of it zipped three broomsticks in a straight line, or something very like one. One... two..... three... the boys passed, their shouts of excitement echoing as they chased the snitch, a tiny shimmer reflecting the sunlight.

Far below was another, much smaller broomstick.

It trugged along the ground, hugging close to it like a sluggish choo choo train and occasionally shuttering in protest. This was because said stick was currently being occupied by a very small girl who was tugging upward on the front of it with all her might, trying to coax it into doing what it had been expressly designed NOT to do.

"John, I said wait up!" The tiny girl squealed, giving the broomstick another tug.

Begrudgingly, it drifted upward a foot, and then sank, depositing the troublesome girl safely on the ground. Janey Hurst was not pleased. In a huff, she hopped off the toy safety broom, grabbing it firmly and thrusting it handle first into the turf.

Her brother was such a beast. He NEVER let her play! She folded her arms, seething blue eyes fixing on another figure nearby.  "You!" She barked, much more sharply than she meant to.

"...Do you want to play?"

Roleplay Response:
It was a warm summer evening in the Scottish Highlands, and for nearly a week now, it had been preceded by warm summer mornings. And on each and every one of these, Antonius had stood by the window and peered out of it while contemplating his woes, his brow furrowed by lines that told a tale of deep-seated indignation. It was the crisp blue sky he was gazing at. Actually, he was glaring at it; and to the casual observer he might seem like he were trying to somehow will the weather to be intellectually honest with him. In Scotland, such summer days were long, and it would not get fully dark until well past ten o'clock at night, and it all seemed wrong somehow. Every bloody day, the sun rose up over the rooftops of Hogsmeade Village, and the whole wide world seemed fresh and bright and simmering with life. There was a cheer on every face and a spring in every step, meanwhile, had the colour of Antonius' innards reflected the state of his being, they would most assuredly have assumed various shades of somber grey.

Everything considered, he would go so far as to say that the cheeriness of his surroundings and how he felt inside, was so at odds with each other that when the the weather was fair, it felt as though mother nature was playing a trick on him. For surely, somehow, somewhere, there had to be someone other than him who also realized that it was not, to put it at its mildest, as good a day as the weather so deceptively made it appear to be? Then the silence was broken by a sudden series of sharp knocks from the front of the room, but the boy did not start or even turn around as the door behind him swung open. He had expected it. When his parents was ripped from him, it had been as if something inside Antonius had shattered into a thousand or more pieces, and ever since he arrived at the orphanage, certain members of the staff had apparently made it their mission in life to put it back together. Just how successful they had been at this endeavour was yet to be settled, however. But at least he was no longer spending all day every day under the covers, bawling.

In consequence, the establishment in question had gradually begun to lay a steadily elongating list of normative expectations upon his person of the sort that had long since become commonplace for his peers, and not spending every waking moment cooped up inside on such a 'beautiful day' was one of them: A new routine had been introduced on his daily schedule where a custodian would insist that he stepped outside, he would be stubborn in his refusal, and then have to suffer himself to be led by the collar by the Ms. Nettlebed before he would finally take a walk like a good little boy. But even then, his sorrows was great enough that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; prompting him to instead seek lonely and deserted places that were in harmony with his spirit. Antonius had lost count of just how many times he had gone up the rough mud track that to the entrance gates of Hogwarts Castle just to gaze upon the vast and towering jumble of towers and battlements beyond it.

More so than simply being one of the most prestigious halls of learning that the world wizarding community had to offer, it was the school of his parents, and though his soul was steeped in melancholy, he had managed to cling onto the faint hope that perhaps they had left behind something of themselves behind those walls. Something a bit more substantial for him to remember them by than some of family photos and the vividly recurring nightmare where he relived their untimely demise over and over. Not this time, though. His journeys uphill to where the castle were situated had been observed and commented upon by some of the locals a few days before, one of which had counseled caution and reminded him that as the new term grew ever nearer, the faculty at the school would soon be arriving to make the necessary preparations for the new batch of First Years, and asked him to refrain from going back so he would not run the risk of disrupting their progress. Reluctantly, Antonius had given his word, and then kept his word.

Instead, he had set the course for Godric Park; a haven of recreation for the children of the village, and occasionally also a favourite stamping ground for their parents. When he arrived at the edge of it, he came to a halt at the sign carrying the proclamation of his immediate surroundings and regarded said grounds with a look of disrelish. As a general thing, he enjoyed to keep company with people, but his mind was still in a state of such despondency that at this instant, those present were more numerous by far than he felt partial to associating with. And so, when the boy pushed onward, he did so with all the grace and enthusiasm of a woebegone sloth; a look that perfectly reflected the boy's abject misery. But no sooner had he recommenced his promenade before he caught glimpse of another boy in the corner of his eye coming up next to him; a lad three years his junior by the name of Cornelius H. Fidget, a local fledgling who always sought to socialise with him; and especially when Antonius did not feel the least bit sociable. 

"Ye reckon they named Godric's Park efter Godric Gryffindur, Anton?"

If Antonius had been a crueler individual, perhaps he would have disregarded the boy's presence entirely. Perhaps. Perhaps he would have refrained from responding to this latest inquiry and instead simply tended to his own business, as planned. Granted, it was not a very ambitious scheme he had in mind; comprised only of walking the length of the park and hopefully find an empty bench in the shade where he can sit by his lonesome and hopefully avoid unsought fraternisation by immersing himself in the book he was carrying under his arm. Merlin knew he wanted to do it something fierce, but he also knew from past experience that the Fidgets were like dogs with a bone. Once their minds were made up on a particular enterprise, they were not easily discouraged, so it was hardly worth the headache it would take to try and rid himself of his company. Moreover, it would have been bloody rude.

With the current state of affairs being what they were, Antonius, rather than giving his vexation a premature outlet in the form of snide remarks that would only serve to hurt Cornelius' feelings at best or earn him his mothers ire at worst, instead drew a deep breath and reminded himself of his courtesies. Then he moved to face him proper, offered him a slight nod and a halfhearted "I mean, the name's a bit of a giveaway, innit?", before he sallied forth into the park, with tiny Cornelius hard on his heels.

"Wa dae ye hink they named th' park efter Gryffindur then?"

"How should I know? Yor born and raised 'ere, mate, shouldn't yer be an expert on Hogsmeade or somefink?"

"Ah suppose Ah coods ask mah parents..."

"Go and do that, then."

"Mah Dad's still at wark. Mah Mum's ower at a mukker reit noo, but Ah dunnae kinn if she'd know, she's frae Kent."

"Do you want to play?"
 
The extent to which Antonius desired the ability to bewitch the eye that beholds his being as to determine for himself who he wanted to be aware of him had already grown exponentially. He heaved a mighty sigh and had half a mind to just raise his arms high and shout for Cornelius to please leave him be, when all of a sudden it dawned on him that the last voice that reached him was that of a girl. He stopped dead in his tracks, blinked and spun around until he faced her. She was tiny - smaller even than Cornelius. He looked between the two prospective companions and decided that perhaps the girl - Jane Hurst, he thought her name was - might be the lesser of two evils.  "Arright." he agreed, eager to get away from his pursuer. "Arright, so wot did yer 'ave in mind?"


OTHER
How did you find us? Returning member

Antonius Fittleworth

    (07/07/2021 at 01:14)
  • Child
    • View Profile
E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name:
Antonius Artemis Fittleworth

Gender:
Male.

Age:
10.

Bloodline:
Half-blood.

Parents/Guardians:
  • Artemius Fittleworth. (Father) †
  • Aurelia Fittleworth. (Mother) †
  • Alice Underwood. (Custodian-in-Chief)
  • Callidora Beamish. (Custodian)
  • Hildegard Frogg. (Custodian)
  • Harriet Nettlebed . (Custodian)
  • Percy Elphick. (Custodian)

Residence: Hogsmeade Children's Home.

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place?
As will be made apparent in the bio, Antonius would feasibly have been acquainted with wizards from London and Upper Flagley in Yorkshire. He might also have come across some from Godric's Hollow and elsewhere in Diagon Alley, I am open to most relations. :-)

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
See above and let me know if you're interested in including Antonius in something ongoing.
 
Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
None.

Biography:
The scion of an old wizarding family known for its long history in traditional governance, Antonius Fittleworth grew up in clover at a handsome townhouse in Whitechapel, on the East End of London. Having erred on the side of caution where the Statutes of Secrecy were concerned, however, his parents did not allow him to play with the children of neighbouring Muggles in case he let slip the truth of who and what they were. As such, as much as he enjoyed the perks that came with a privileged upbringing, it was also a somewhat lonely existence. The only times he was actually around peers and playmates were during visits to Diagon Alley, or when his parents hosted dinner parties for friends and family, causing little Antonius to spend an inordinate amount of time in the family library. This changed during the summer months, however, during which his family would invariably enjoy the holidays in the countryside at 'The Nook'; a tiny cottage surrounded by lush greenery that they owned on the outskirts of the little village of Upper Flagley in Yorkshire.

Considerably more lax with the rules there than they were at home, for those couple of months each beach season, Antonius was free to play with other children to his heart's content, if only because most of the ones he typically associated with there came from local wizarding families that his father were friendly with. Of a decidedly more bookish bent than most children his age, though; when he was not swimming at the beach or running around in the woods with peers and acting out their favourite scenes from The Detective Files of Conebush and Persimmons, (a game that became increasingly elaborate and improvisational as Antonius and his friends grew older), or playing down-scaled Quidditch matches in the paddock out back of their cottage, (the previous owner was an old recluse that bred Hippogriffs as a hobby); Antonius would enjoy quiet hours in a hammock by day with only a stack of comic books to keep him company, and with his mother - who was in the Frog Choir while attending Hogwarts - singing him to sleep come nightfall.

Accomplished in the magical arts and successful in their respective careers; although their family coffers at Gringotts Wizarding Bank allowed Fittleworths could comfortably support themselves without the need of a paying job, it was generally felt by those who knew them the best that Antonius' parents had both been roused to the pursuit of altruism by hardships in their youth, and that what had initially unified them even prior to their first date were their shared understanding that the best way to live was by giving more than you get. And so, the pair of them had gone out of their way to find a steady full time job for themselves as to contribute to the magical community besides the annual Hexing Tax. In consequence, Antonius attended the AB&C Daycare in Diagon Alley when he was little. This would change, however, after Mr. Fittleworth won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw and placed the seven hundred galleon prize money in a Junior Wizard Savings Account in their son's name to do with as he pleased. And use them he did:

Before Artemius Fittleworth settled down with the Muggle-born witch from Godric's Hollow that was Antonius' mother, he was a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank, and even after his son had heard each and every tale he had to tell, there was still nothing he liked better on those late summer evenings at the edge of Upper Flagley than when the members from the local magical community popped by for a visit and gathered around as his father put on his 'scary voice' and laid out about his many adventures around the world; of braving ancient Mayan ruins in Guatemala and forgotten tombs in Egypt. Of recovering stolen assets from mingy vampires in the Black Forest, and such daring expeditions as deep-sea diving to retrieve sunken treasure from the Bermuda Triangle and exploring the volcanic ruins of Krakatoa, all of which played no small part in shaping the adventurous streak that saw Antonius make a choice that would bring about "the incident". The day of bereavement and tragedy that changed the young boy's life forever.
 
Deciding that he wanted to do something out of the ordinary and be the one to treat his parents to an exciting experience for once, on July 13, 1962, the Fittleworths, having boarded the long-distance train from Platform Seven and a Half at King's Cross Station, set off to wizard-only villages in continental Europe. In a bad turn of fate, however, their summer holiday was cut tragically short when their visit when their visit coincided with an assault by a band of unscrupulous wizard poachers. With curses flying and the dozens of huge, fire-breathing beasts in a crazed frenzy, what was meant to have been an exotic and pleasant excursion swiftly became by far the most dangerous day in Antonius' life, and when his father ordered him to run and hide, Antonius obeyed him without a second thought. Having resolved to help local dragon keepers in keeping the attackers at bay until reinforcements arrived, Antonius parents fought like true heroes that day. A dozen poachers had attacked the reserve, and when the Aurors began showing up, were soundly defeated.
 
There is truth to the claim that there is always a calm before the storm: There was a moment, while the Aurors were busy rounding up those of the attackers that had not managed to flee, the dragon keepers busy trying to settle down their charges, and his parents were crossing the reserve in leaps and bounds calling for Antonius, when the danger had seemed to pass. That was, however, all it took to set off a particularly angry female Norwegian Ridgeback that had taken a Conjunctivitis Curse to its face. Antonius and his parents had nearly rejoined in a relieved embrace when the two latter were engulfed by dragon fire and all but reduced to ash right in front of him. The trip back to England three days later was done in the company of strangers; a couple of Aurors that the Norwegian Ministry of Magic had tasked with seeing the boy back safely while they made the necessary preparations for the remains of Antonius' parents to be received by its British counterpart. They were laid to rest at St Jerome's graveyard in Godric's Hollow, his mother's birthplace.

Grief-stricken and miserable, the fact that his parents both posthumously received an Order of Merlin, First Class for their bravery mattered very little to Antonius, who had a temporary custodian was appointed to him by the Ministry of Magic that conveniently enough lived within walking distance from where the funeral took place and housed the boy for almost a week before bringing back to to the now empty house in London to pack his things, before he was shipped off to the Scottish Highlands to live out the rest of his formative years at an orphanage in Hogsmeade Village. And while he was met with kindness and understanding from the staff; in particular by the kindly old cook, Madam Frogg, who made a point of delivering meals to Antonius's room in person when he first arrived and always lingered by the door a bit longer than necessary just in case he needed to talk, the last year have not been an altogether easy one: For the first couple of months there, he would barely eat and spent most of his time curled up in his bunk, sobbing quietly, and as politely as he could manage rejected all attempts at socialisation from the other orphans at the Home. And here we are a year later, with Antonius taking one day at the time and heading for normalcy.

Roleplay:
Reply as your character to the following:

Godric Park.

Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue, for once clear of the ever-pervasive spongy clouds and rain. The sun was a lemony-yellow presence, high in the Eastern sky, and in front of it zipped three broomsticks in a straight line, or something very like one. One... two..... three... the boys passed, their shouts of excitement echoing as they chased the snitch, a tiny shimmer reflecting the sunlight.

Far below was another, much smaller broomstick.

It trugged along the ground, hugging close to it like a sluggish choo choo train and occasionally shuttering in protest. This was because said stick was currently being occupied by a very small girl who was tugging upward on the front of it with all her might, trying to coax it into doing what it had been expressly designed NOT to do.

"John, I said wait up!" The tiny girl squealed, giving the broomstick another tug.

Begrudgingly, it drifted upward a foot, and then sank, depositing the troublesome girl safely on the ground. Janey Hurst was not pleased. In a huff, she hopped off the toy safety broom, grabbing it firmly and thrusting it handle first into the turf.

Her brother was such a beast. He NEVER let her play! She folded her arms, seething blue eyes fixing on another figure nearby.  "You!" She barked, much more sharply than she meant to.

"...Do you want to play?"

Roleplay Response:
It was a warm summer evening in the Scottish Highlands, and for nearly a week now, it had been preceded by warm summer mornings. And on each and every one of these, Antonius had stood by the window and peered out of it while contemplating his woes, his brow furrowed by lines that told a tale of deep-seated indignation. It was the crisp blue sky he was gazing at. Actually, he was glaring at it; and to the casual observer he might seem like he were trying to somehow will the weather to be intellectually honest with him. In Scotland, such summer days were long, and it would not get fully dark until well past ten o'clock at night, and it all seemed wrong somehow. Every bloody day, the sun rose up over the rooftops of Hogsmeade Village, and the whole wide world seemed fresh and bright and simmering with life. There was a cheer on every face and a spring in every step, meanwhile, had the colour of Antonius' innards reflected the state of his being, they would most assuredly have assumed various shades of somber grey.

Everything considered, he would go so far as to say that the cheeriness of his surroundings and how he felt inside, was so at odds with each other that when the the weather was fair, it felt as though mother nature was playing a trick on him. For surely, somehow, somewhere, there had to be someone other than him who also realized that it was not, to put it at its mildest, as good a day as the weather so deceptively made it appear to be? Then the silence was broken by a sudden series of sharp knocks from the front of the room, but the boy did not start or even turn around as the door behind him swung open. He had expected it. When his parents was ripped from him, it had been as if something inside Antonius had shattered into a thousand or more pieces, and ever since he arrived at the orphanage, certain members of the staff had apparently made it their mission in life to put it back together. Just how successful they had been at this endeavour was yet to be settled, however. But at least he was no longer spending all day every day under the covers, bawling.

In consequence, the establishment in question had gradually begun to lay a steadily elongating list of normative expectations upon his person of the sort that had long since become commonplace for his peers, and not spending every waking moment cooped up inside on such a 'beautiful day' was one of them: A new routine had been introduced on his daily schedule where a custodian would insist that he stepped outside, he would be stubborn in his refusal, and then have to suffer himself to be led by the collar by the Ms. Nettlebed before he would finally take a walk like a good little boy. But even then, his sorrows was great enough that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; prompting him to instead seek lonely and deserted places that were in harmony with his spirit. Antonius had lost count of just how many times he had gone up the rough mud track that to the entrance gates of Hogwarts Castle just to gaze upon the vast and towering jumble of towers and battlements beyond it.

More so than simply being one of the most prestigious halls of learning that the world wizarding community had to offer, it was the school of his parents, and though his soul was steeped in melancholy, he had managed to cling onto the faint hope that perhaps they had left behind something of themselves behind those walls. Something a bit more substantial for him to remember them by than some of family photos and the vividly recurring nightmare where he relived their untimely demise over and over. Not this time, though. His journeys uphill to where the castle were situated had been observed and commented upon by some of the locals a few days before, one of which had counseled caution and reminded him that as the new term grew ever nearer, the faculty at the school would soon be arriving to make the necessary preparations for the new batch of First Years, and asked him to refrain from going back so he would not run the risk of disrupting their progress. Reluctantly, Antonius had given his word, and then kept his word.

Instead, he had set the course for Godric Park; a haven of recreation for the children of the village, and occasionally also a favourite stamping ground for their parents. When he arrived at the edge of it, he came to a halt at the sign carrying the proclamation of his immediate surroundings and regarded said grounds with a look of disrelish. As a general thing, he enjoyed to keep company with people, but his mind was still in a state of such despondency that at this instant, those present were more numerous by far than he felt partial to associating with. And so, when the boy pushed onward, he did so with all the grace and enthusiasm of a woebegone sloth; a look that perfectly reflected the boy's abject misery. But no sooner had he recommenced his promenade before he caught glimpse of another boy in the corner of his eye coming up next to him; a lad three years his junior by the name of Cornelius H. Fidget, a local fledgling who always sought to socialise with him; and especially when Antonius did not feel the least bit sociable. 

"Ye reckon they named Godric's Park efter Godric Gryffindur, Anton?"

If Antonius had been a crueler individual, perhaps he would have disregarded the boy's presence entirely. Perhaps. Perhaps he would have refrained from responding to this latest inquiry and instead simply tended to his own business, as planned. Granted, it was not a very ambitious scheme he had in mind; comprised only of walking the length of the park and hopefully find an empty bench in the shade where he can sit by his lonesome and hopefully avoid unsought fraternisation by immersing himself in the book he was carrying under his arm. Merlin knew he wanted to do it something fierce, but he also knew from past experience that the Fidgets were like dogs with a bone. Once their minds were made up on a particular enterprise, they were not easily discouraged, so it was hardly worth the headache it would take to try and rid himself of his company. Moreover, it would have been bloody rude.

With the current state of affairs being what they were, Antonius, rather than giving his vexation a premature outlet in the form of snide remarks that would only serve to hurt Cornelius' feelings at best or earn him his mothers ire at worst, instead drew a deep breath and reminded himself of his courtesies. Then he moved to face him proper, offered him a slight nod and a halfhearted "I mean, the name's a bit of a giveaway, innit?", before he sallied forth into the park, with tiny Cornelius hard on his heels.

"Wa dae ye hink they named th' park efter Gryffindur then?"

"How should I know? Yor born and raised 'ere, mate, shouldn't yer be an expert on Hogsmeade or somefink?"

"Ah suppose Ah coods ask mah parents..."

"Go and do that, then."

"Mah Dad's still at wark. Mah Mum's ower at a mukker reit noo, but Ah dunnae kinn if she'd know, she's frae Kent."

"Do you want to play?"
 
The extent to which Antonius desired the ability to bewitch the eye that beholds his being as to determine for himself who he wanted to be aware of him had already grown exponentially. He heaved a mighty sigh and had half a mind to just raise his arms high and shout for Cornelius to please leave him be, when all of a sudden it dawned on him that the last voice that reached him was that of a girl. He stopped dead in his tracks, blinked and spun around until he faced her. She was tiny - smaller even than Cornelius. He looked between the two prospective companions and decided that perhaps the girl - Jane Hurst, he thought her name was - might be the lesser of two evils.  "Arright." he agreed, eager to get away from his pursuer. "Arright, so wot did yer 'ave in mind?"


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Calypso Ross

    (10/07/2021 at 21:46)
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