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Havelock Ellis

    (04/12/2011 at 16:33)
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Character name: Havelock Ellis

Previous and/or Current Character(s) if applicable: Bruce Havard, etc.

Character age: 39

Character education: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Class of 1952

Strength and weaknesses (details please): Havelock is confident and focused. It is difficult to make the man go off track, and such determination aids him in accomplishing many things. He can be incredibly stubborn as a result, and it is nearly impossible to get him to change his mind about anything. In some ways, when dealing with young and unreasonable students, such obstinacy can be helpful in setting rules and standards. However, working with colleagues can be damaging if/when disagreements arise.

Physical description: Havelock is fit but sturdy, standing at 5’11’’ (only two quarters of an inch from six feet). He has an angular face with a wide jaw, deep blue eyes, and a nose that is large and asymmetrical like a mound of clay. He oscillates between looking scruffy, being clean-shaven, and having a full-on beard. Appearances are important to Havelock, for the most part, so he prefers dressing in modern suits and robes, and he always looks put-together.

Personality: Quiet and thoughtful, Havelock rarely speaks. He is reflective and perhaps the poster boy for the introvert, preferring alone time to dedicating himself to friendships and other relationships. He is reclusive and secretive, preferring that neither his colleagues nor his students learn much about him. Havelock is an extremely stable individual, however, and has been known to share advice to those who come to him, which has given him somewhat of a reputation of “mentor” (though if pressed, he would not agree).

Havelock is very much a perfectionist, and this is reflected in all aspects of his daily life: from his appearance to his class presentations, he strives to look and perform flawlessly. Whether this trait is admirable or a plague of neurotic syndrome has not been decided.

Hopes and dreams. Why are you teaching at Hogwarts?: Havelock’s hopes and dreams are irrelevant, as his only concern is the intellectual welfare and educational advancement of the students at Hogwarts.


Havelock Ellis died on January 2, 1971.

He had lived an unremarkable life filled with unremarkable things.

Educated at Hogwarts, Havelock Ellis had bigger aspirations than being a simple school teacher. He wanted to immerse himself in politics, become a big name in the Ministry. He wanted his face on campaign posters, he wanted to be the Minister of Magic. His father Archibald was a lawyer well-studied in government, and his mother Gwenyth was a prolific journalist who liked to stick her nose in everyone’s business. In his youth, Havelock had high hopes of being a productive member of society like his parents, and he knew one day he would hold a public office.

Havelock’s ambitions only truly amounted to anything when he fell in love with a girl. The girl of his dreams was a Ravenclaw named Hattie Malthus, bookish and a little mousey, quiet but never lacking in something interesting to say. Through insistence, Havelock (a Slytherin) befriended the Ravenclaw, learned of her greatest fears and most secret ambitions. He learned of her oppressive mother and her kind father, their expectations and their disappointments. Hattie, like Havelock, was an only child, and Havelock understood his friend’s troubles with hovering parents.

Love made Havelock’s ambition grow enough to try out for Quidditch, to duel, to do anything that may impress her enough to find him more interesting than a study mate. He wanted more than anything for Hattie to find him interesting and read him like a book. His goals became skewed as he studied less, hoping his declining grades would give him even more excuse to spend time with the lovely and intelligent Hattie, who patiently sat with him and explained spell theories and, every so often, would crack a smile and speak softly of things unrelated to studying.

In his third year, Havelock learned of the death of Hattie’s father, Thomas Malthus. He died very suddenly, and while the Healers could not pinpoint what had happened, they deemed his death a complication of his heart. Hattie insisted that her best friend Havelock attend the funeral. They grew closer and closer as the months and years past—and, finally, Havelock found the courage to ask Hattie to their 7th year ball.

Perhaps it was a remarkable thing that Havelock and Hattie married.  They moved to America—New York City, to be exact. Hattie wanted to open a book store and, stripped of the British government and politics he had been so familiar with, Havelock decided instead to teach. At first they were happy, Hattie with her shop in the city and Havelock with his professorship at the Salem Institute. His academic interests ranged from the theoretical to the practical, and he taught several different classes (including some original electives) during his time at Salem. He spent a few terms in History of Magic, a few others in Potions and Herbology, another several terms teaching lower level Charms and at least once, he taught an adjuvant Divination class.

Despite his academic success, a discontent grew within Havelock. Silently, he developed a discomfort deep within him that screamed at him to find his calling and regain his ambition and interest in politics. But Hattie frowned on such things, disgusted with the idea of having their lives dissected on the experimentation table of the public. She feared that Havelock would lose his gentle nature and become a shark, tearing apart his components and obsessed with winning. Hattie never expressed such feelings to Havelock, but merely tutted disapprovingly every time political topics were brought up, until finally Havelock stopped talking about it altogether.

When Havelock turned thirty, Hattie neatly described her aspirations to begin a family. She wanted three children, all girls, although she would tolerate one boy. Havelock was not for or against children, but the professor was at a time in his life when the bottle all but consumed him. While they tried to start a family, either Havelock’s indifference or Hattie’s frustrations prevented any children from entering their lives. Silence prevailed in the Ellis household until one evening Havelock returned from the bar to discover their flat half-empty.

Havelock let Hattie go, clinging desperately to his work and to his drinking. He carried on largely isolated, rebuffing any attempt by his colleagues who had heard of his separation to befriend him. Havelock was no stranger to solitude—in fact, he reveled in it. He aspired to immerse himself in the political scene, perhaps quit his job at Salem and work for the U.S. Ministry, perhaps even move back to Britain. Instead, his desires fell silent in the face of his depression.

In 1971, Havelock was more than pleased to hear about the Inter-School Games, knowing that a visit to his alma mater was in order. But Havelock never anticipated a run-in with one of his in-laws.

Havelock got a room in Hogsmeade in addition to the housing provided by Hogwarts. It was in secret, as Havelock was more concerned with the open hours of the local eaterie than the Inter-School Games themselves. Returning to his quarters one winter evening, Havelock was startled to see a man sitting in a chair reading his newspaper. The man looked up at him with pale blue eyes, and for the life of him, Havelock could not determine why they reminded him of Hattie.


Havelock’s hand went to his wand, but the poplar wand extricated itself from his pocket and flew with great insistence into the stranger’s hand. He hadn’t moved. How was that possible?

“You won’t need this anymore.”

His mind became distracted while in an attempt to calm his fears, he tried to remember where he had seen this man before, and why he reminded him of Hattie. He remembered Hattie’s father’s funeral, the pictures and the conversations. Thomas Malthus had a brother. There was one picture of them together. They looked very similar. The brother’s name was Spencer, and he had disappeared, and was presumed dead only several years ago.

The man presumed to be Spencer Malthus stood from the chair, still clutching the wand. His face was stoic and his eyes betrayed nothing of his intentions. “What do you want?” asked Havelock.

“Why, you.” Spencer Malthus’s voice was strangely playful. Havelock stiffened, all of his anxiety telling him to run but he could not move. “You made Hattie very upset.” Spencer Malthus inspected the poplar wand. “Veela hair. No wonder you prefer blondes.” Malthus’s eyes reached Havelock’s and his gaze darkened, sinister, considering. “Thomas never liked you.”

Havelock shook his head, stunned. He had met Hattie’s father only once or twice before his death, and he never expected to have left much of an impression on him. Havelock tried to lift his hand, but couldn’t, and suddenly he became aware that Spencer Malthus must have cast a spell on him so subtly that he hadn’t noticed.

“I see you have nothing else to say.” Malthus held Havelock’s gaze, unmoving. “Goodbye.”

A flash of green, and Havelock Ellis was no more.


Spencer Malthus let a long breath out of his nostrils and went to work. He took a satchel from his belt and knelt beside the Ellis boy’s form, momentarily examining him. Perhaps he had been too hasty. Havelock Ellis had been a bright boy--he remembered him, briefly, looking at Thomas’s library with Hattie. He had the eyes of a scholar, all brains and no heart. Spencer could relate. Thomas was less enthused about his sweet daughter befriending such a heartless boy--polite, but no knack for social courtesy. Hattie had such tendencies, too, and Thomas had always been concerned that she would become like the Havelock boy through association. He wanted to raise a kind and gentle daughter, not one that stomped over people to get what she wanted.

Spencer was simply glad to never have children.

Using Havelock’s poplar wand, Spencer Malthus pointed the tip at Havelock’s face. A full beard. It was too easy. Focused, Malthus shaved off the beard and collected it in his satchel, another long breath escaping his lungs. A waste, in his opinion. If only Havelock had not had such potential. He would have made a powerful ally. Given the proper motivation, they could have groomed him to join the political circuit and become another puppet for the Ministry. But, alas, the drink. Havelock wasted himself.

Tucking away the satchel, Spencer also sheathed the wand before moving to the chair he had settled himself in. Beside it was a briefcase, which he picked up and opened, placing beside Havelock. With a wave of his hand, Havelock began to fold neatly, cracking. Spencer lowered his hand and Havelock shrunk, and with a wave, the body rolled into the briefcase. Spencer snapped the briefcase shut.

Gathering himself, Malthus looked around the quarters. A leather bound journal sat on a writing desk.

“Hello, Havelock.”

Roleplaying Response:

Havelock Ellis wore new shoes, new robes, and a new suit. His hair was combed back and not a strand was out of place. He shaved in the morning and consumed a breakfast of plain oatmeal and black coffee. Interviews did not frighten him, especially an interview in a field that his form had been in for nearly two decades.

Memories flooded his thoughts at the sight of the Hogwarts castle, most old, some recent. Looking down at himself, he realized that, without thinking, he had chosen and blue striped tie to complement his stormy gray suit. The colors of his old house. Not Havelock’s, of course, because the boy was a true Slytherin. But the new Havelock Ellis, the one puppeted by Spencer, was going to bleed Blue and Bronze.

For as much exploring as he did in the castle, he had never been inside the Headmaster’s office. Noticing that the man himself was not there, he took several moments to look around and take in the portraits, the objects, the books, everything. Satisfied that he had seen all he could without poking around too much, he settled himself in the seat across from the Headmaster’s desk.

It did not seem like the Headmaster to be late for such a meeting. Havelock felt at ease, as if he had the upper hand, because surely the Headmaster would be on the defensive when entering the room. Havelock was not interested in dominating the interaction, of course, but he was set on having this interview go well.

“"First, it was McStingy and now this! What in the name of Odin happened to my lakrits?"”

Without surprise or a sign of discomfort, Havelock’s blue eyes trailed from the Headmaster to the empty bowl on the table. He did not recall examining the bowl when he had looked over the office. Looking back at the Headmaster, his eyebrows lifted. “I am afraid, not even in the name of Odin, can I report what happened to them. As much as I share your love for lakrits, I don’t believe I ate them. Unless, in a state of anxiety related to meeting the Hogwarts Headmaster, I ingested all of them without thinking only moments ago.”

A small smile. Surely the Headmaster had a sense of humor.
thou art fled to brutish beasts
and men have lost their reason.