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Duncan McLaughlin


Duncan McLaughlin:

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T
Character Name: Duncan McLaughlin
Gender: Male
Age: Thirty four
Blood Status: Halfblood



Business Strategist

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place  or to take over an existing shop in need of new management?
No thank you

Requested Magic Levels:
Adult characters have 32 starting levels to distribute across these four categories (less levels can be used if you so desire, but no more than 32). The number of levels on the lowest ability must be at least half of the highest ability.

If you want levels above the usual 32 total, or a significantly uneven distribution of starting levels, please fill out and submit the Exceptional Levels special request form here.

* Charms: 13
* Divination: 6
* Transfiguration: 6
* Summoning: 7Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
No thank you

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Three Foxgloves and their auntie, Parker McCormick, Apollo Undergrove, Isla Shaw, Ophelia Marquis


There was something that drove Duncan McLaughlin - an invisible force inside that always made him strive to be the best. Ever since he’d been a young boy it had been important to him to reach for incredible heights; no goal was too far-fetched and no glory too great for the young boy. As a Slytherin he’d always surrounded himself with the people who would push him though when he needed real inspiration, he rarely needed to look further than his own family at home.

The McLaughlins were good people, all of them. Duncan grew up in Paisley and would spend long hours playing near the waterways with his brother and sister. Paisley was a weaver’s town and his mother worked in the industry, while his father was in administration at the Ministry. Both parents worked long hours to afford the family’s middle class lifestyle, and perhaps it was this that made the young Duncan so hungry to achieve more. Everything they owned was merely adequate in his eyes and he longed for the day where he’d be able to make both parents proud to have him as their son.

Outshining his siblings was far more difficult than one would think. Quinn was an excellent Seeker, while his brother was a very dangerous duellist. Duncan had his work cut out for him trying to keep up with his studies while also making his mark with sports. He felt he had at least a small edge over the others because he was not only willing to work hard but he was willing to fight dirty as well, something that didn’t change as he grew up and was accepted into the Ministry.

It was ironic, then, that his moral ambiguity played no part in his dismissal from the Ministry. In Duncan’s mind, it had simply been a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. One moment he was attending a policy meeting on something so minute it could have been decided by a mere flip of the coin, and the very next a group was hauled into the office to investigate the undermining of certain quality procedures. To this day Duncan wasn’t sure why he was turned into the scapegoat, but the dismissal just about ruined his life. He could look neither of his parents in the eye for months and as the money dried up, the rest of his life started to unravel bit by bit.

Old friends crossed the street when they saw him coming, prospective employers refused to give him a chance. Even the girl he’d been seeing suddenly seemed less interested in him and, after a very awkward evening with his family, the two of them decided to part ways.

It was during this time, when he was at his lowest, that Duncan realised he’d need to drop all the way to the bottom before rising to the top again. None of his applications for respectable jobs were successful so instead, he turned in the other direction to keep bread on his table. Tough guys and muscle men were always in demand. While Duncan was neither the strongest nor the best bruiser, he was angry enough to be able to make it work. What was more, he brought the same work ethic to his job as bruiser as he would have done if he was still at the Ministry.

It soon became clear that the Scottish brute with the cold blue eyes had something between the ears as well and so, after a few months of hunting down runners and garnishing wages, he began to get offers of a different kind. One or two bigger names in the city required ‘Logistics Managers’, the types that had very little to do with transport and storage. The money they offered was more than enough to get back on track so Duncan jumped at the opportunity, more than eager to excel in this world that was so far removed from the rules and regulations of the Ministry.

It was about five years into his new career that one of the biggest names in the London underworld offered Duncan work as a ‘Business Strategist.’ The hours were long, the money fantastic and as far as lawless professions went, this one was completely respectable. Duncan even had dental benefits, something that was unheard of in this line of work.

It was a long and brutal climb to the top. Duncan wasn’t quite there yet, but for the first time in ages, he could breathe easily.

You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character:

Option One -
Amelia Nixon was many things, but she was never a pushover reporter that people could just usher away with a busy shuffle past. She was dedicated and eager to cut to the very middle of the current political tensions because she was Amelia Nixon and her articles would most certainly become front page material.

“Sir, please! It’s for the Prophet, how do you feel-“

Another one brushed passed her, the shuffling busy masses making their way through Diagon Alley for the lunchtime rush. This had been the best possible time to get people, but none of them were giving her anything to go with.

Only momentarily discouraged, the short red headed lady took a seat on a nearby bench. Her quill resting in her left hand and her notepad ready in the opposite hand. Amelia pouted, tapping the quill against her leg as she scanned the waves of people for somebody - anybody - who looked like they had something to say.

She had been dreaming of her name in bold print, Amelia Nixon: The Source of Today’s Tomorrow. She had been dreaming of the larger office and the secretaries that would fetch her the morning coffee and fetch her anything she needed. The VIP interviews and the most exclusive press passes. But all Amelia had was a page seventeen piece on the rising number of frogs in London.

Hardened by a day of no success, the reporter stood up and started to trod off down the alley. A loose stone on the cobble path caught her heel, sending the distraught girl toppling down to the ground.

“Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!” she yelled as she tried desperately to recover her shoe frantically in the middle of the Diagon Alley moving crowds.

Roleplay Response:

Amelia Nixon might have been dreaming about her name in bold print but Duncan wanted to keep his name out of print at all costs. The privacy of his client was one of the most important parts of Duncan’s job and so, even a throwaway mention in a discarded paper could spell disaster. Seeing an active journalist on the prowl in London gave the man pause and when he noticed that she was actually approaching members of the public for quotes, he decided to make himself scarce.

The perfunctory smile he flashed her was nothing if not polite, and as he sped past her with a spring in his step, Duncan thought he might actually be able to escape unscathed.

Unfortunately, this was not meant to be. The good Miss Nixon went one step too far and, much to Duncan’s dismay, ended up sprawled awkward on the ground, whining about a heel. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to simply slip away and leave the woman in his wake but he couldn’t do that. No matter what he had done, or how thoroughly he’d his skin as lawful, upstanding citizen, Duncan was still a McLaughlin. He’d been taught manners from a young age and though he wasn’t from a rich family, his family was one with proper breeding. Duncan could no sooner walk away from a woman with a broken heel as he could flee from a litter of puppies about to be devoured by a dragon.

Journalists might be the scum of the earth, but Amelia Nixon was still a human being.

“Right, grab onto my arm then,” he said, bending his knees a little bit so she could reach from her seat on the ground. “Let’s get you upright first, then I’ll see what I can do about that shoe of yours.

How did you find us? Can’t remember

Willow Foxglove:


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