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Messages - Victor Carstairs

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Archived Applications / Victor Carstairs
« on: 01/12/2019 at 13:35 »

Application for Hogwarts School


Name: Victor Hugo Carstairs

Birthday: 10 December 1946

Hometown: London, England

Bloodline: Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Charms

Magical Weakness (pick one):Divination

Year (pick two):  First (preferred), Second


December 10th, 1951

It wasn't funny, nor was it unique as his mother insisted. There was nothing remotely amusing about having been named after the author of a book her mother had finished reading shortly before he had been born.

The first son had been named after their father.

The second after a great, great, great something.

Third one? After the other grandfather, the one that wasn't a Carstairs.  But when Victor Hugo Carstairs had been born, all the good names had been taken already.

It hadn't been funny back then, and it was still not funny now - on his fifth birthday, as he woke up with five copies of Les Misérables on his bed - courtesy of his brothers.

December 20th, 1952

It wasn't a party. It wasn't a celebration either, it was--

"A commemoration." Camilla Carstairs repeated for the tenth time that evening. Right, because her father was dead.

Both Carstairs were currently hiding under a big table, one with an apple, the other with a camera. "Don't you get all bored alone? I mean, with no siblings and all that." It wasn't that Victor was particularly fond of his brothers, but a certain degree of amusement could be found behind every argument and fight.

The girl shrugged, and he simply grinned.

"You're pretty weird, you know that right?"


Camilla Carstairs didn't look amused at all.

August 5th, 1953

No one had believed him when he had said he was going to Africa.

Celine Carstairs had claimed he was adorable, isn't he? as she sipped her tea, her friend had promptly laughed. Arthur Carstairs - the father, not the son - had not been there to listen to him, he was probably at the office back in London, or perhaps Paris, maybe New York. And his three brothers had simply laughed when they had seen the youngest Carstairs packing the basics on a bag that was too big for a seventh year old: some food, a map and his camera.

(He should have packed some socks).

No, no one had believed him.

But they had all believed him in the end, when Victor Hugo Carstairs had been spotted bribing a sailor to help him cross the Mediterranean sea.

September 16th, 1954

"Listen up," The youngest Carstairs was used to looking up whenever he talked with any of his older brothers - from where he was sitting though, on the sofa's headrest, he could finally look down. "If I really, really needed a lawyer, and you were the last lawyer on earth," He was not looking at his brother though, for he was too focused fiddling with the camera on his hands.


"I'd still not hire you."

Arthur Carstairs, the oldest of the four, effortesltly managed to shove his younger brother to the floor with a single hand.

"DON'T--" Victor wrapped his arms around his camera before he hit the ground.


June 21th, 1955

It wasn't Africa where he wanted to go this time, but Scandinavia instead.

He had planned everything: this trip would be just a training: then a desert, or the Kilimanjaro  perhaps, then make his own photography exhibition with the pictures he would take along the way, and win four or five prizes because of them.

Arthur and Benjamin Carstairs were already working for the family's law firm, and Ethan was now in America, working for some boring, important men in a grey suits. None of them were there because of their own merits, of course. The law firm didn't need anymore new lawyers, and the boring men in grey suits didn't need anymore British assistants. There were no more duties to be fulfilled, no expectations to be met: Victor Hugo Carstairs could do whatever he wanted--

Victor Hugo Carstairs could do and be whatever he wanted, and he wanted to be something more than a Carstairs.

--Benjamin snatched his back before he could cross the threshold, and Arthur promptly took his camera and took a picture or a very upset looking victor Carstairs.


Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.

House Request: Slytherin or Gryffindor.

Victor Hugo Carstairs is not a good person, but he's not a bad person either, and if you ask him, being a Carstairs that's a pretty damn impressive achievement. The Carstairs are natural born liars, so he tries to tell a truth at least once a day. He's as selfish, careless and blunt as any other boy who thinks owns the world - raw potential in its pure form. With less pressure and expectations upon his shoulders, the youngest Carstairs is the least traditional, polished or compliant of the four. Restless, impatient and greatly ambitious, he is willing to achieve something great on his own - with the help of daddy's money, though.

According to their mother, Victor Carstairs is a copy of his older sibligs - only with sharper edges, more scrawny limbs and slightly longer dirty blonde hair. Needless to say, he strongly disagrees with that description. Regardless of the small differences though, he's definitely a Carstairs: same hair as the rest of his brothers, same piercing blue eyes - same smile that seems to hint that they are not to be trusted.

Option I:

The dungeons. A place Victor Hugo Carstairs, who was usually more drawn to places with brighter colours, often found himself wandering around to attempt to capture the sharp contrast of the lights and shadows with his camera.

It was a pretty damn good metaphor - sharp angles, a mixture of light and darkness - for the Carstairs themselves; but he didn't know that much about metaphors just yet. Besides, he was not as interested in his family's shady businesses and the metaphor he could not quite understand yet - that duality of light and darkness, good and wrong - as he was interested in his brand new camera, one that he bet would be able to cacth the contrast of the light better than his old one.

Albeit, his "old" one had been bought less than two months ago, but he deserved the best, didn't he? He was a Carstairs, after all.

"Hello! Is Emma Birch here?"

He had been about to click the button when someone spoke. "Mate," From his current crouching position - his camera resting on his right knee, blue eyes fixed on a spot on the wall - Victor stood up, looking mildly annoyed and simultaneously amused. The short interruption had been enough to miss his chance - for the light no longer looked as just fine as it had moments ago. He would need to come back tomorrow, or even the day after that, he would find the perfect moment again.

Everything always came easy to him - he liked to think it was a natural talent, he was probably wrong.

"...do I look like an Emma to you?"

Had he been born a girl, he was sure his parents would have chosen something along the lines of Jane Austen Carstairs instead.


Please list any characters you have  on the site (current and previous): Bianca Carstairs & co.

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