|Full name||Arcus "Rid" Ricardus|
|Born||24 June 1922|
|Birthplace||Ricardus Hall, Freethorpe, Norfolk, United Kingdom|
|Residence||Prendergast & Sons' Attic, Diagon Alley, United Kingdom|
|Blood Status||Pureblood, The Ricardus Family|
|Education||Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Slytherin 1933-1936; Salem Institute, Rook 1936-1940|
|Title(s)||Quodpot player ('74-'37), Senior Nurse ('74-'37), Quodpot Captain ('37-'40), Delegate ('37-'30), Junior Medic ('37-'39), Alchemy Teacher's Assistant ('38-'39), UWC Intern Advertising ('38-'39), Senior Medic ('39-'40), Duelist ('38-'39)|
|Hair colour||Transfigured blond (actually brown)|
|Parents||None, disowned (Loxias Ricardus Junior (Wizard), Morgan Ricardus (Witch))|
|Siblings||None, disowned (Salazar, Emeric, Antioch, Herpo, Merwyn, Godelot, Owle, Sol Ó Conaill (Bastard))|
|Wand||Aspen Wood, Dragon Heartstring Core; 12"5; Rigid|
|Patronus||Jacob's sheep (ram; four-horned)|
- 1 Biography
- 2 Appearance
- 3 Personality Description
Infancy and Childhood
Arcus Ricardus was born as the third son of Loxias Ricardus Junior and Morgan Ricardus, younger brother to Salazar Ricardus (1919) and Emeric Ricardus (1921) and later older brother to Antioch Ricardus, Herpo Ricardus, Merwyn Ricardus and the twins Godelot and Owle Ricardus. His childhood was the perfect mirror image of every pureblood son's upbringing. He was being taught how to behave like the perfect pureblood son: the proper social etiquette which was valued in the higher circles of the pureblood society of which the Ricardus Family is a part was drilled into him, he was taught how to dance properly until his feet blistered and he was taught the values and principles which were inherent to pureblood elitism. His Father preached of how purebloods were deemed to be the most fit by evolution to rule the dimwitted populace, how all halfbloods and muggleborns were deemed to be filthy and just half a step up from the intuitive beats and animals, he too was told that the Ricardus Family had always maintained a regal status in the political arena of the British Ministry of Magic and that it would be his calling to follow in the footsteps of his ancestors, and how it was his job as a younger brother to always back up his oldest brother and help him strengthen the Ricardus' position in both politics and business affiliated affairs. It was what he was taught, but it was not what Arcus Ricardus could make himself believe. It was as preaching the Bible to an atheist.
The young boy had always believed that even the muggleborns and halfbloods had some sort of dignity simply for the fact of being human, and that even house elves and other creatures and animals should be treated with respect. And although he has never really been in touch with any muggleborns or halfbloods during his childhood because his Father forbid him to do so, and he was not allowed to be on friendly terms with the house elves who were forced to work hard in the kitchens of Ricardus Hall, he was determined that his Father's perspective was not true.
It might be needless to say that Arcus was the odd one in the bunch, that he was the ugly duckling who never really seemed to be able to align himself with the expectations and desires the rest of his Family cherished for him. He had never really been able to fit the mold that they had designated for him to fit, could not possibly make himself into something he was not and was principally not agreeing with. An easy target for his brothers yet taken under the protective wing of Salazar who had always had a soft spot for the odd blob of human that was his younger brother, he tended to shy away from any of his Family members. He locked himself up in the Library quite a lot, fleeing into the fictional world where the protagonists at least always got the happy ending they both longed for and deserved.
It was harder to cope with the pestering of his brothers when Salazar was at Hogwarts and he had to fend his attackers off himself, he distanced himself even further and tended to be around his Family members as little as he could possibly get away with. The hosted pureblood social events he was forced to attend were spend hiding under the tables a lot, left alone with imaginary dragon wars. And due to the fact that he had been awfully lonely when Salazar was already attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and due to the fact that he wanted to learn more in order to understand the more complicated books in the Ricardus Family Library, Arcus had always been eager to go as well. It might be needless to say that he was ecstatic the first time he boarded the Hogwarts' Express.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (1933 - 1936)
Arcus had not really known what to expect from the prestigious institute of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry the first time he got there. It was a gigantic building, and then Arcus had always been certain that Ricardus Hall was one of the most prestigious monuments of the wizarding world and most definitely one of the biggest, but it looked like this educational institute was going to top that. He felt tiny in the halls and corridors of grandeur, but at the same time it too granted him the experience of anonymity. Of a lot of people not knowing who he was, which was a welcoming change in comparison to Ricardus Hall where his brothers had always been looking for him to pester him. He was just another student here, could start somewhat anew - unaware still that his surname was loaded with expectations of who he was and what he was going to be and he subsequently still had to obey the path others had thought out for him. It might have not been a surprise that he was sorted into Slytherin mainly because all of his Family before him had been sorted into Slytherin, a place he would never really be able to call his own.
Disownment (Summer 1936)
The oak looked sad that day. Everything looked sad that day. Even the owl Aeris who was always in a good mood -when his feathers weren't pulled out by Salazar, that was- seemed sad. Like something bad was about to happen.
A silence before the hell breaks loose.
The young boy had been scared away by his older brother just a second ago and now, he was trying to figure out what to do with his time. Or actually, he already knew. Arcus was planning on convincing his father Loxias that he wouldn't go to Hogwarts. That he wanted to go to the Salem institute instead. There was something about the dreary English weather that Arcus didn't know how to handle. The vibe didn't feel good.
The Hogwarts castle scared him to death.
"Father, may I talk to you for a little while?" The young boy had knocked on the wooden door and he sneaked a look around the door. His father was sitting behind a heavy desk. The smell of firewhiskey filled Arcus' nose and he was suddenly scared that his father had been drinking. Loxias Junior was a scary person to see. Someone who just walked out of the horror movie.
"It's about my education, Father." Arcus deserved a nod of approval and the boy let himself in. Plopping down in a leather seat after he had closed the door, he looked into the piercing eyes of his father. No one had more intimidating eyes than his father. Maybe that was why Aeris didn't like hanging out around here. Simply nothing could escape the gaze from this man, the future head of the Ricardus family and already a mystery to everyone. No one knew who he truly was -even Arcus didn't know anything more than what he had learnt from the rumors.
"What do you want, Son?" It was always intimidating when Loxias started to call you son. Like you had to be even more careful. The young boy's hands became sweaty and he wanted to wipe them off on his trousers, but pinned to his chair, he wasn't even able to move a muscle. He managed to swallow after a while.
"You know how much I dislike the place where Hogwarts has been founded, Father. You know that I'm not looking forward to be educated there. I hoped that there might be a chance to break the family traditions and to go to Salem instead." A small voice was everything the boy could muster at the moment. The Ricardus' son looked down at his hand and started to nervously bite his nails.
So that was why everything had been silent; because hell would break loose right away.
"You are mocking me, Son. You can't. Slytherin House is a family tradition, we go there since the school has been founded. You can't go to Salem! It's not honorable to break with the traditions of your family, Arcus Ricardus! Don't you have any idea of what honor is? Don't you know how to behave!?" Loxias rose from his chair and erected himself to the 6' tall person he was. The hands were placed on the desk and the older man leaned over the surface to look Arcus in the eyes. "Aren't you grateful for your last name, Ricardus? Aren't you happy that you are a pureblood Ricardus? Don't you feel like a coward now you want to betray your own blood? The same blood that's running in your veins!?"
A flicker of scared thoughts in the younger boy his eyes when he looked at his father. When he caught his breath as he was scared, how his heart skipped a beat. The nostrils of the scarecrow that was his father thrilled with anger. He was not pleased. And hide when Loxias Ricardus Junior is not pleased.
"Father, just for a year, or two. I have to stand on my own feet one day, and I think I can start with it at Salem institute. Let me please try it. When it won't work out, you may have the honors to rub it in my face and to taunt me with 'I told you so,'" Arcus looked frightened at his father. At the madman in front of him. "Please, I'm pleading with you. I'd do anything." The expression on the male's face changed. Not into even more rage, but now in some disregard. Some disgust.
"You, betrayer. Get your bloody arse out of my Hall. Out of England. You're not worthy to be a Ricardus!"
Maybe, that was a way to make sure that Arcus wasn't a Ricardus anymore, but to Arcus it meant something like: yes, approved, pack your bags and you're going to Salem Institute.
In a rush of weird happiness, Arcus jumped up, and left with a big smile on his face. He ducked when he reached the door, making sure that the bottle of firewhiskey that was thrown after him hit the door instead of the back of his head.
Thank you, Father. Being disowned for a while never felt so good.
I'm off -see you later.
Salem Institute (1936 - 1940)
Fourth year (Freshman)
'74-'37: Salem Institute (Transfiguration, Arithmancy (Val), Quodpot Player, Senior Nurse -OOC: Salem VIP)
DECEMBER 1936 --Salem was smaller.
Tiny, in comparison to Hogwarts.
It was small, the dorms, the dining hall, the sports were different, people spoke with a weird accent and they drank more coffee instead of tea. They had invented the best cookies in the whole world and tended to mingle in debates and other political business. The people around Salem tended to be helpful and friendly towards him, although he still had a stutter ever since he had sort of fled towards America. The stutter didnât escape him no matter how hard he tried.
Aeris flew the oceans, a secret way to keep in touch with Salazar, although Arcus was quite sure that it could lead to severe consequences for his older brother.
Quodpot was new and the Brit had been ignorant until he participated. He was still the Ricardus, refused to rename himself. He couldnât.
Fifth year (Sophomore)
'37-'38: Salem Institute (Wandlore (Val), Politics of Magic (Val), Quodpot Captain, Delegate, Junior Medic -OOC: Salem VIP)
SEPTEMBER 1937 -- Arcus wasn't the one that should be giving speeches. Sure, he could write the speeches easily, there was no problem in that, it was just that he couldn't speak in public. He was a stuttering fool that had trouble with articulating words, even when he was alone. And especially when there were a lot of eyes focused on him. That, plus he had stage fright. The sight of the place he should stand was like a scaffold. Would this be some sort of short trip to the gallows? Because it certainly felt like one. The fourteen year old boy could almost feel the loop tighten around his neck.
(You can do this, Arcus. Let's slay some dragons that personify your biggest fears. You can do this, you hear? You're invincible.)
Arcus blinked a couple of times, swallowing the lump in his throat. He was nervous like hell and almost knew that he was going to black out any time soon. He would just walk up the stage, say the first word and then faint.
The fifteen year old was in desperate need for someone that could hold his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. If only Salazar could have been here for just a little hour to say that things were going to be fine.
His heart was racing miles per second when Arcus stepped forward and looked at the people in front of him. The pairs of eyes that were fixated on his face. He felt a blush creeping up his cheeks while he looked at the papers in his hands.
There was one way to win this, this was his [i]delegate[/i] speech. His hands fiddled with the papers in his hands before he actually realized that it made a very annoying sound, so he quit it and stuffed them into his pocket as well.
The stutter slipped in his words when he introduced himself, when he stated that he was proud of being an Englishman but that it wouldnât stop him from involving himself in American Politics. He looked around, actually feeling his confidence grow with every word that rolled off his tongue. He wasnât here to promise world peace and sovereignty.
A shrug, before his hand came up to ruffle his hair. He felt like he was finished. Being selected for delegate was something impressive on its own, becoming one was different, though. He was no hero, and he knew it.
FEBRUARY 1938 -- Arcus had been worried about the letter that he had sent to professor Pendragon regarding an apprenticeship in one of the most awesome things in the entire world. Blue eyes had read over the lines of the note of Pendragon, excited until he had seen the required age. Sixteen sounded old and responsible, authoritative and heroic, while fifteen just sounded like someone that still wore diapers and cried when he didn't have his way.
Fingers traced the creases in the reply of the professor, caused due many nervous foldings and rereadings. The boy was somewhat confused that he had been given some sort of interview about the whole matter. The chance that was presented made him nervous and more happy than he already was. Arcus had never been one to have goals in life. He lived in the present and it was the first time that he actually started to think about a future. A real one. One of his own, on his own.
The future that had laid ahead of him when he was still a true Ricardus by name, blood and law was gone. Had vanished into thin air at the Ministry of Magic. Nameless, lost and alone, he needed somewhere to start âa start that could be wandlore.
Maybe it was a weird thing to like in this world where charms were considered of more use than wandlore and divination. Arcus could say that he had always liked the odds, the things that were ignored and shoved into some sort of corner of oblivion.
He wanted this, needed this.
On the single thing that blocked it. That he had to quit school. Arcus didnât know what to think of that. He needed time.
Sixth year (Junior)
'38-'39: Salem Institute (Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against Dark Arts, Alchemy, Alchemy Teacher's Assistant, Quodpot Captain, Junior Medic, Delegate, UWC Intern Advertising)
Graduation and Onwards (1940 - Present)
After his graduation, Arcus Ricardus lived for a while in Manhattan, sharing an apartment with his best friend Benjamin Looper. Benjamin had taken Arcus in simply because he had had nowhere else to go, had too few ties in America to stay anywhere else but with his best friend and not yet the guts to actually return to his motherland he so dearly missed. It has to be mentioned that they were quite capable of surviving together, no matter their clashing lifestyles - Benjamin's being more adventurous and assertive where Arcus' has always been more cautious and calculating. But no matter how well they seemed to survive together, helping each other the best they could at that, there was no denying that it indeed was an awkward experience. Arcus had had feelings for his friend ever since Junior year and he had a hard time restraining himself from actually confessing, of telling Benjamin that he could not continue to pretend that their relationship was purely platonic and he did not wish for anything more - whilst he truly and honestly did.
Arcus departed for the United Kingdom again without leaving as much as a note for Benjamin to find, running away from the one man who had caused him to be all confused and frustrated, only having announced his return to his old wandlore professor Filius Pendragon and his oldest brother Salazar. To the former, he had written a letter saying that indeed he was still interested in taking up the offer of the internship spot at Pendragon's wand shop in Diagon Alley. To the latter, he had written that he was in need of a place to crash for as long as was needed until he could get a place for himself to hide out. Pendragon replied to him that the spot for interning was still available and that he would be happy to teach Arcus everything about wandlore, and Salazar replied to him that there would always be a couch available for Arcus to crash on.
Returned in the United Kingdom, he felt more at home than he had done in a long time. The people around him spoke with a familiar accent, he knew the outline of the cities with their countless alleys which combined make up for intricate mazed which hinted at the ancient history of the city and how it had come to be. But no matter how much at home he felt, touched by the familiarity his surroundings had, there was no denying that he too was paranoid that his late Family would find out that he had returned to the United Kingdom - disobeying the last orders he had ever been given by his Father. There was an ever-present threat that he would be found and that his Father would punish him accordingly - ruthlessly and mercilessly, there was no telling how gruesome it potentially would turn out to be. Those were the reasons that Arcus decided to change his style around and started to wear all black, sporting a black fedora hat which ironically looks a lot like his Father's and oftentimes a long black coat over his black dress-shirt and pants. In this outfit, he looked both impeccable and anonymous, yet at the time time unapproachable and distant. Secondly, he also guaranteed his own safety by going by a pseudonym that would hint at his actual name but never really give it away unless someone would give it a proper second thought. Arcus Ricardus became Rid the wandmaker (subtract the letters used in the name ARCUS from the name RICARDUS and RID is all one would be left with).
He managed to fend quite well for himself after he had found himself an apartment after a couple of months and was being taught wandlore and how to craft his own hands by the master himself, he managed to stay out of trouble for at least a while - yet never failing to continuously look over his shoulder to find out whether he was being followed by suspicious looking fellows with malicious intentions like handing him over to the Family he once belonged to. Finally adapting himself to the slow place of life which was dictated by routine and habit, consisting mainly out of work, he found that he started to become comfortable in his newly found position. But tranquility has always been rudely disturbed in this young man's life, and there was no way that the three goddesses of faith would allow him to get away with it all so easily.
One should say that he had become used to being left alone after all this time, that he had gotten used to how people connected with him for a while before they once again fell out of touch and were never to be found. One should think that someone who had deliberately broken all ties with firstly his Family and secondly with the friends he had made in Salem Institute would have gotten used to the hurt and heartbreak it would cause. The departure of Filius Pendragon was sudden and unannounced and it took Rid by surprise. Once again, he was being left to his own resources again and without a proper basis to fall back on - not waning to burden Salazar once more. Desperate to survive and to put his still developing craft to good uses, he became a self-acclaimed wandmaker who occasionally met up with people in bars to help them with any issues they encountered. He too started to supply other wand shops with unusual combinations of woods and cores.
He too, unexpectedly, got back into touch with his Mother who seemingly had never approved of Loxias Ricardus Junior to disown her thirdly oldest son, and the secret of his return therewith became kept by yet another member of the Family he would spend the rest of his life running away from the farthest he ever could.
In the year 1946, he met up with Maximilian Morgenstern in the Hag's Head, a German hailing from Trier and had just come to England - a change which had seemingly affected him so that his wand had failed to respond to him. Although Rid is keen on always maintaining a professional relationship with his clients and does only want to get to know them in order to help them, never returning the favor by disclosing much information about himself, he ended up sharing more of his personal information than he would have anticipated in the next several occasions that they accidentally happened to bump into each other. There is no way telling how this is going to continue for 24 year old Rid, but he cannot help but be remembered of the interest and love he once cherished for Benjamin Looper when he is with the pureblooded red headed Morgenstern heir who is to be engaged. However, it is likely that it is going to be one bumpy ride.
Arcus Ricardus is oftentimes compared to a kind giant, someone who generally needs to be tall in order to contain such a big heart. He is taller than average in the 1940s, making him stand somewhere between 6'2 and 6'3. He does not have the big shoulders he oftentimes envies his oldest brother for, but he takes more after his Father - he is sinewy instead of really muscular, his body consisting out of planes with sharp angles. He is always clad in dark, preferably black clothing, simply because he does not want to stand out. Firstly because of his height he already and quite literally stand out from the crowd, which has made him hunch before slightly in a futile attempt not to appear so gigantic and lanky. Secondly because it indeed makes him stand out less, is gives him the vibe of anonymity he has been craving ever since he returned to the United Kingdom.
Although he was born with dark brown hair and has had this hair color until his sophomore year, he has accidentally dyed it blond and decided to stick with it. The main reason for this drastic change of appearance is because he wants to set himself apart from the Family he had been born into but who let go off him so coldly when he proclaimed that he wanted to do something else with his life. The blond locks of his hair are oftentimes tamed by the black fedora hat that tops his head and casts dark shadows over his eyes and his face, but there are still enough stubborn untamed locks that peek out from underneath the brim and stick out in every direction. Whenever he takes his fedora hat off, it is easy to compare his hairdo with the spikes of a hedgehog which had had too much to drink.
He has bright blue eyes, unlike his Father and the rest of his brothers who all sport a more cold coloration, which tend to light up when he smiles. They stand in stark contrast with the grim shadows that the brim of his black fedora hat cast, which give him a slightly paradoxical appearance. Almost unlearned how to smile due to the countless hours of solitude he has to endure, he can still be recognized by the Cheshire grin which tugs at the corners of his lips in anticipation of a boyish chuckle or a loud laugh.
Arcus Ricardus can best be described as the mediator (turbulent variant), and therewith resembling the INFP personality type. He is 69% introverted in his interaction with his environment; 62% intuitive direction of his mental energy; basically all feeling (a stunning 98%) when it comes down to how he makes decisions and copes with emotions; 65% prospecting when he approaches his work, planning and decision making and does not immediately commit; and the as identity underpins all other traits and shows how confident he is in his abilities and decisions, he is 9% assertive and 91% turbulent. Arcus is a true idealist and romanticus who is always looking for the hint of something good in even the worst people and events, always searching for ways to make things better. This does not mean that he is only looking for ways to make things better just for himself, he wants the better situation that will benefit the greater good. In this search, he is guided by his principes, always acting on morality and virtues which makes up for the fact that he is driven by the purity of his intent rather for achieving any kind of praise or punishment for what he has done.
This young man could always have been perceived as calm, reserved and somewhat shy (especially now that he works under his pseudonym Rid and does not want to really connect to anyone so that no one might end up hurting because of him and the wrath of his Father which haunts him) which oftentimes make people misunderstand him. When, however, he is able to make a connection with someone else, he truly wants to understand the other since he craves the depth of mutual human understanding, but tires easily in social situations. He is extremely skilled in reading another people's feelings and emotions but rarely gifts the other person the same privilege since he tends to protect his sensitive inner core and values from criticism and it needs sustained and tactful effort to actually get to know him as he really is. This does not stand in the way for Arcus' ever lasting search for understanding himself and his place in the world - something he has been looking for ever since he has managed to get himself disowned, always trying his best to fit in with the crowd but at the same time terrified to do so. If they are not careful, INFPs can lose themselves in their quest for good and neglect the day-to-day upkeep that life demands. This makes up for the fact that Arcus often drifts into deep thought, enjoying contemplating the hypothetical and the philosophical more than should be considered healthy. Left unchecked, INFPs may start to lose touch, withdrawing into "hermit mode" so that he looses touch with the rest of the world.
A couple of admirable qualities are inherent to Arcus, and the first of them is is idealistic and unshaken belief that alle people are inherently good but just misunderstood. This also makes up for the fact that he tends to approach a more democratic approach instead of trying to overpower others, he wants to make sure that every voice is heard whilst not being constrained by any rules. Thirdly, because of his open-mindedness, he oftentimes adopts an unconventional approach and perspective on certain matters as long as he is not proven principally wrong to do so. His shyness oftentimes keeps him from standing in the center of the podium, but he surely is the first to lend a helping hand where it's needed.
Yet, the downside of his idealistic democratic position is that, especially with the repressive regime of both Hexenreich and Wizengamot, that he finds himself disappointed in mankind when evil things happen in the world. His trust has been betrayed many times before and it is hard to restore it. His altruism too has a grim downside, because of this he wants to give more to others than he possibly can and therefore tends to neglect his own wishes, needs and desires. He truly believes that others are more worthy and wants to dedicate all his time and effort in making others feel better so that he does not have any time and effort let to look after himself. As a mediator, Arcus too really tries to avoid anything which has 'conflict' written all over it, he wants to align principles and perspectives in order to avoid a clash. INFPs are private, reserved and very self-conscious which makes it notoriously difficult to really get to know Arcus, and their need for these qualities contributes to the guilt they often feel for not giving more of themselves to those they care about.