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CHARACTER INFORMATIONCharacter name: Oscar Mague
Previous and/or Current Character(s) if applicable: Adrian Alric and co.
Character age: 25
Character education: El Colegio Magico de La Gran Colombia
Strength and weaknesses (details please): Oscar's biggest strength is socially and dealing with people. His main course of study in muggle university was in psychology, a passing fancy he managed while building his agency, which rose from a foundation that had always been acutely aware of motivations and body language, tonal phrases, the extreme awareness that came from living through a bleak childhood. He has an unyielding work ethic, a highly empathic nature, and a big heart. He has a weakness of never taking anyone at their word, preferring to read into their actions and believing himself to be right until proven wrong. And when he is wrong, he is profusely apologetic. Acting in the extremes, pulling back into being reserved and observed, it's a tightrope to walk but he does it with grace.
Physical description: Influenced by the cultures that existed before the Spanish colonized his lands, Oscar keeps his hair generally braided and goes through a wave of different piercings on his face and tattoos on his body. He is relatively tall, with shoulders that expand and hold up his frame. His expressions are easy to read, at least what he wishes to be read, and conveys them with effectiveness. His wardrobe is eccentric, eclectic, and could swing through the pendulum of genders. But, for the most part, they are always exuberant and extremely colorful.
Personality (nice, rude, funny etc. Paragraph please.): A man with a very colorful personality, Oscar was inspired by movie stars and musical artists, the larger-than-life figures who were unapologetically themselves. He feels deep, he expresses with his entirety and is more likely to turn an argument into an opportunity, a normal night into one worth remembering. Surprisingly low on ego, his humble origins helped shape his worldview. Everything he has, he's earned and could hardly ever settle for putting everything he has into what he is doing. Very prideful about his roots and the duality of his heritage, who inherit the royalty of Spain and the community of the indigenous peoples. He loves to dance, aspires to androgyny despite his very male features, is flamboyant, boisterous, supportive, and has a deep understanding of social cues and people. It's what has led him to be so prodigious in his career path as a private investigator.
Hopes and dreams. Why are you teaching at Hogwarts?: It’s a sappy answer (at least the one he is offering upfront). Children are the future and, after many years spent building up his private investigating agency and seeing one too many tragedies, sharing his skills and making useful magic easier to interpret appeals to him. After a couple of years of residing in Great Britain, the opportunity almost seemed too good to pass up. While his own magical upbringing could only be explained as unconventional, teaching students to not only respect their magical ability, but use it in a way could benefit them in everyday life is what he hopes to accomplish as a professor.
Biography (500 words minimum. There is never such a thing as too much.): 10th August 1966
bogota, colombia; 11:55 pm
abandoned warehouse
"
You are a stubborn one."
Oscar had been called many things in his life, but he usually wasn't accused of being stubborn. Most of his friends thought he was rather easy-going for someone so opinionated, ready to stop himself mid-argument to change the subject entirely. He would flip the script so casually that the rest would go along with it and then it would be all laughs and fun again.
As the boy, because he was still only sixteen, spit out another mouthful of blood from where he'd been tied up, didn't think it would be so easy to flip this one.
"
Señor Ramirez," the first goon, the one with who had been laying it on most and had already built up a sweat, asked the man watching and controlling everything in the room, asked, "
If he does know anything, with respect, I don't think this is the best route to go by. We might have to get more... convincing."
Oscar's head rose gingerly to meet the gaze of the man seated across from him. While they sat in similar seats, the older man in the black tuxedo and wide-brimmed hat took another puff from his lit cigar and let the smoke billow above his head. Knowing how these things went, the evidence left in previous scenes, the boy understood that when that cigar was done, then so would all of this.
What he hadn't known was the enjoyment the man got out of watching it. He was intimately placed in it, allowing the abuse to happen by his hand as if he was the orchestrator marching onto the music. The cigar was his conducting baton, and it would move to and fro throughout the interrogations, the threats, the many times this same scene must have likely played out to countless others. It was how some people rose in a corrupt world that did not hold them accountable.
"
I think," his voice was booming. There was a gravity to it that even had Oscar keeping his head looking up.
"
That our guest believes himself to be smarter than he is." Another wave of the wand, and the henchman kicked Oscar's left arm, the one tied back to the backrest of the seat, the one that was bandaged and stinted. The scream he let out was guttural; it spilled out of him like a flooded water closet and his breaths came back hoarse and unsteady.
"
He cannot even afford a good doctor to get him a cast. Did you fashion that up yourself? Scum. You mean nothing. You are nothing. Tell me, who do you work for? How did you find my shipment routes? Who lit them on fire? Who cost me money?" Another kick to the forearm and another scream.
"
Are you with the authorities? No, you must be with some family. Who hired you? Tell me, boy, and then you have my permission to die."
If he could shrink into the seat, he did as much as he could. Outside, he could hear the faint sound of a church clock striking midnight. It was the eleventh, a new day. His birthday even.
Oscar, pained as he was, laughed. He spat at the man's feet. A bird cawed, a warning sign that went unnoticed.
"The only people who sent me," he started to say, clenching his teeth and summoning the strength to look up, "are the people whose families you've butchered. Their souls, their love."
Suddenly, an explosion blasted through the wall on the backend of the building. The attention fled Oscar and that was to the detriment of the seven other people there. The bandage, or what was actually magical timer tape, expanded and released what the gangsters had believed to be the flint holding his arm up. When his wand hit his hand, the grip tightening over it, Oscar was already casting spells.
He could now. He was technically an adult.
His shadow rose behind him, spooling into a copy of himself, and that summoned clone began to unravel the ropes that bound him. His next spell obscured the space around him, using the smoke that had left the cigar to create a fog that spread and covered him completely. Oscar's ears were perked to the other spells being shouted, ones that were initially aimed towards the explosion until they seemed to realize what was happening. By then, it was too late.
The smoke then spread to them individually. Wrapping around their heads, the smoke moved like tendrils sticking through their nose and mouth. He could hear the collective gasp, the gagging, and then the shudder of bodies falling down. Oscar breathed easier on them. His wand released a healing charm, and his bruises felt less intense. He would definitely need to see a doctor, but that would have to wait out the arrival of the aurors he'd clued in beforehand.
Not that they would have taken a lowly kid at his word, but the collective evidence that should arrive the following morning, as well as the explosion that could be heard for kilos, and the fact that he had Salazar Ramirez, high-ranking elected official, renowned businessman, and, Oscar's favorite, Butcher of Bogota, sound asleep with all of his henchman should do the trick.
It was his first collar, the one that made his reputation spread throughout his country. And while the judicial system would end up failing him, the cracks of what their country was, the men who were in power, were starting to show. And that was all he could ask for.
1st January 1970
Hotel Clasico de Cali
Twenty Minutes Past Midnight
"Something is happening, Diegito."
Oscar took another sip of his drink from the balcony deck that overlooked the party. It was hard not to stay focused with so much happening. The gathered guests were all laughing, partying, and dancing to the live band. The fireworks had subsided for now, which led to mothers chasing after their children now that it was likely time to leave.
It felt like a time capsule, a solitary moment to be held in a museum of a time past what would come.
"I can feel it in my bones. The gangs are getting too bold. Too confident. People don't yet understand that they'll have to make a choice."
As usual, Diego waved off his concerns. That's what happened when you came from such privilege. The estate, the money, the resources. It made these men think they were untouchable, even the good ones. The ones whose father had dedicated his life to helping others, investing in their community.
Even though he was muggleborn, his friend was afforded far more power and influence. The magical society was loosely structured. It existed outside countries, outside boundaries. From Panama to Peru, from the Galapagos to the Caracas Mountains, their magical institutions filled the hole left behind by the revolutionaries that had dispelled the Spanish. Since then, they existed in the shadows, collecting those who showed innate magic, integrating them into the one society that truly existed. It was a far different landscape than anyone of the Western democracies could fathom.
"
Oscar, do you always have to be so pessimistic? Or is that only reserved for me, outside the card games and futbol matches?"
He laughed, shrugging back. "You're the only one who listens."
The laugh was returned. A clink of glass, the usual sign that his words were appreciated. The band had stopped playing just then, waning down as the night seemed to. The guests began to disperse, heading to the front so they could line up and get their cars brought to them by valets.
"
Then listen to me now, my friend. It's not that I don't believe what you are saying. That the desperation of this world can bring a man to do terrible things. What do we do to fight against such feelings of loss? Hmm?"
Oscar knew better than to respond. Diego was building up to one of his big speeches, the shared wisdom that came from a long lineage of wise men who had seen through the establishment and expansion of their country. These Men of Always, a phrase that had once seemed like a jest that now sounded like a battle cry. His lips tightened and the hold of his glass steadied.
"
We give. We serve. We love each other. We remember the rule of law. For all of your accomplishments, you are still a young man. You do not have a wife. You do not have children. Your roots are down there, in the dark, and nothing grows in the darkness. Trust. We have a bright future ahead of us, my friend. I know you are someone we can depend on. But you need to understand your place in the world, as will these thugs you are so concerned about when their time comes."
Oscar sank deeper into his seat as Diego rose, his aged hand settling on his shoulder to give it a pair of taps before dropping his drink on a coffee table and heading down the stairs, likely to say farewell to the guests leaving his home. Looking out into the darkness from this second floor, overlooking a chasm that fell down to the city proper and the silenced streets he had grown up in, there was no dismissing what he felt in his bones. Things were changing and he knew that nothing would be done until it was too late.
He had to leave. Had to start somewhere new. He couldn’t sit there and watch, powerless to stop whatever continued to give him sleepless nights.
And when Diego’s father was kidnapped, held for ransom, and murdered months later, Oscar could only shake his head when he learned of it weeks later, half a world away.
4th May 1974
Glenda's Goods Private Investigators
London Offices
"Syd, do me a favor," Oscar asked the other agent there, as she handed the offered cup of coffee to their client.
"How about you call it a day, yeah? I'll close up after this meeting." After a quick salute and the sounded of a pair of doors closing, the private eye exhaled a bit easier as his gaze settled on the robed figure sitting down, a cringy smile settling too uncomfortably for Oscar's tastes.
"
That last job went well. You are truly worth the expense."
"Added expense," Oscar corrected with a snarl. The entire thing had been an ever-expanding mess. He wasn't in the business of thievery, and he should have known that there was far more going on considering what the purse had been. Not used to being the one slipping up, the man made sure that this was going to be the last time he dealt with this representative, because that's all he ever claimed to be.
"Twenty percent more. There are things I used that I won't be able to replace. Contacts that went to shit and won't trust me again. You really set me back with this."
"
That was the intention," the man responded cooly. The words rang like the clear warning they were supposed to be, as if the offices themselves were burning and telling him to get out now. Oscar kept himself composed, already too deep in to simply get out now. He wouldn't let himself.
"
You see, Mr. Mague, or Sir? Senor? Whichever you prefer, we do not make such introductions without making sure that it won't get back to us. Mistakes were made in the pass. We shall not suffer to have them happen again. The court documents you were able to steal will make sure that my side is covered. But what about you? Are you sure you left nothing they could trace back? Nothing that, when the shit hits the fan, will have the muscle of the Ministry barging through that door?"
The words were one thing. It was the tone that kept him off-edge. He did not feel like he was bartering with a man. It felt like he was making a deal with the devil.
"
You see, we like you, Mague. We think you are properly skilled and excellent at what you do. Which is why we will be recruiting your services indefinitely."
Oscar allowed himself to smile at that. No one was that ridiculous or deranged. He felt slightly more at ease, shifting back in his seat, nodding along.
"Sure. Or, you can just go fu–"
The man lifted up his hand and, somehow, Oscar felt his mouth close with it. His eyes narrowed as his gaze looked away, and then back, meeting the deathly stare of the smiling man in his oversized robes; long, dark hair parted at the center with a hooked nose and leathery skin. Details he would have to remember going forward, before this escalated to a place he did not want.
"
Let me put it in the same terms we did before. You are being requested for a job. This job's timetable, at the moment, is indefinite. We shall meet back in a year's time to review. It is an easy job, one that you will surely excel at, and your firm will be paid its fair share for it. It does not carry a success rate, its goals are subtle and likely unreasonable, but you will do it anyway, because–" And he pulled out a small folder from seemingly out of nothing and slid it across the table.
"
You have far more to lose than you truly believe."
He took the offered folder, opening it up. A few minutes passed by, and Oscar finally looked up, grim. So, this was what losing felt like.
"What's the job?"
SAMPLE ROLEPLAYRoleplay Response: "You have five minutes to assure me that you'll never be late again."It was likely not the reaction she was hoping to hear, but Oscar could not help but let out a rich, heartfelt laugh. Even in the face of a woman he could already tell didn't stomach being laughed at, the man understood that, if he actually was late, he had a better chance at proving his worth in areas other than punctuality.
“Señora, why would I begin our relationship with a lie? Or a commitment that is outside of our control? I did not come here to teach Divination." That was the truth of it. He doubted the woman was ever used to being given it.
"How could I give you such an assurance? If this castle became the site for the next Goblin uprising, would you not expect me to defend the students before reporting to my designated class? I cannot promise what I do not know."
"But you are correct in expecting a sincere apology. I did not realize this castle was so large. We do not have such places in Colombia. This makes our cathedrals look
pequeñito. Like ant hills. Being late was not my intention. Time is too precious."
Sitting up straighter in the seat he claimed, Oscar offered the woman a bow of his head. Rather than wait to hear if she was already done and had made up her mind, he pressed on and pulled out his folder filled with a hefty amount of class structure and a year's worth of lectures.
"I am not here to waste yours. Not even five minutes. Allow me the chance to show you why I would be best for this opening."
pequeñito: very tiny
