CHARACTER INFORMATIONCharacter name: Geryon "Crow" Crowley
Previous and/or Current Character(s) if applicable: Adriel, Nicor, Carlo & co
Character age: born October 31st, 1909
Character education:Hogwarts, Slytherin
Magizoology studies
Phd in torture, terror and trauma from Institutions and AzkabanStrength and weaknesses: Most of the traits he possesses can probably be both, depending on the situation and the fact that they shift like night and day. While the man in one moment can remember a tiny detail he noticed in the corner of his eye that one cloudy evening in 1925, he might not be able to remember a student’s name even after years of them being in his class. Detail oriented, but often oblivious to the bigger picture. In a hidden tribe in the middle of the Amazonas jungle Geryon can guide you safely through all their weird customs and without problem make sure you don’t offend any kind of animal you meet, but what would be considered common sense and curtesy back home in England is like an alien language. So selective of what he chooses to even consider caring about, but extremely good at the weird stuff he ends up with. If anything gets him curious, he’d go to any length to pursue it. Eyes on the prize, not letting anything get in the way. Terrible in social situations, and often child-like in his reactions if pushed outside of his comfort zone, or if he doesn’t get his way. Always in constant need of having his shop assistant Evelyn keep him out of trouble – regarding everything from avoiding being sued to making sure he eats every now and then.
Physical description: Skin so pale it can only be described as white – covered, head to toe, in all kinds of tattoos, markings and scars. The only thing rather average about this man might be his height. Raven black hair. Skinny built – skeletal hands. Cold, grey eyes usually peeking out from under the brim of a black top hat – stitched together, here and there. Always dressed in black, in clothes and garments that would never really fit into any time or fashion. A strange eccentric in his looks as well as his ways – even from a pureblood wizard point of view.
Personality: Geryon has never really played well with others. Always a loner, weirdo and bizarre. Unconventional in just about every aspect of his being, thoughts and actions. His personality consists of contrast of the extreme – an unhealthy obsession with the few things he finds interesting, and complete lack of care for all and everything else. One moment he might seem entirely in control of the situation – displaying a sense of calm, mystique, showcasing skills and wisdom that would baffle most mortal men. While in the next he might just as well seem incapable of even putting his socks on. Geryon is a man without a set moral compass or any concept of honor or duty. He always has his own agenda, and in his mind it’s all that matters. Some might find him peculiar, funny or even insane. And maybe he is. One thing you can say for sure, is that he never aims to please – unless there is something in it for him. A price that is worth the effort. For the right reasons this man can do just about anything.
Anything.Hopes and dreams. Why are you teaching at Hogwarts?: Geryon has been teaching for years – first at Salem, later at Hogwarts. To claim it to be a hope or a dream to return would probably be a lie, as anything close to goals in this man’s life would be something involving groundbreaking discovery or possession of
particularly deadly mythical creatures. But financing adventures, research and especially his shop in Knockturn Alley (which is not exactly a goldmine), demands sacrifice. Geryon hopes going back into teaching will help on the way to getting out of a rather messy financial situation and save the store that is practically his life and shelter. Also, as hard as it might be to believe, the odd man has come to care a lot of his assistant Evelyn, which spends nearly as much time there as he does. At least in his own mind Geryon is protecting her from the horrors that is the world outside their four walls in Knockturn. Having that taken away is not an option. And who knows, maybe he’ll end up enjoying being back teaching more than he thought?
Biography: We are all faced with choices from the very beginning. For as long as we live. Yet there are always some things, some core parts of our very being, that cannot be chosen. Is not governed by will. Like what we are drawn to. Sounds. Colors. Which people, thoughts, impressions or actions make us feel good inside. Capture our interest. Make us tick. Or on the other hand make us want to hide. Hurt. Trigger the void that is indifference. You can think all you like, that you are your own master. But in the end we are all shaped. Molded. By environment. Achievement. Trials and experience. Reality is a relative concept, and yours is just that – you, and the rest of it. The only child of the Crowley family head, Geryon was born into great expectations. Next in line. Heir to the seat. Countless years of family history and pride resting upon his skinny shoulders. Shoes he at no point had any desire or aspiration to fill.
Why would a boy distance himself so far from those considered to be his own kind? Connect with a bird on such a deep level that he ends up becoming it. Hurt. Healed. Flying away. What fire drives a passion into obsession. Making a man dance on the borderline of sanity – chasing myths and fables over the entire globe. Where do they come from, the voices calling him back into the shadows? Always. Comforting beams of moonlight – whispers and promises sealed in blood. Dead lips spill no secrets. As an injured crow became Geryon’s best, and nearly only childhood friend, that was the animal he became as his quest for animagi succeeded. The fascination and interest towards creatures grew – especially concerning the ones often being labeled with the same names he himself would face. Monster. Freak. While pursuing his Magizoology studies, Geryon travelled the world – bringing his research to the most remote of places. Making discoveries and gaining wisdom that could never been reached any other way. When returning home to England, the man opened a store – trading in creatures one wouldn’t find in any common petshop, while also conducting some more shady business on the side. His knowledge of his trade and skills in transfiguration eventually also led him to teach at both Salem and Hogwarts.
How many words are there for a man who tortures another. Who puts himself first and let the others fall. Their screams pitch higher than your own. Never silent. Not ever again. While a prison of horror, stone and punishment tear them out – pieces of your soul. Sunshine. Smiles and laughter. Breaks your body down. Withering. How could anything ever compare to the prison of your own mind. Where although your being is released, you will always be trapped. It stiches you together. Life. Time. Bits and pieces. Old, new. A ragdoll of decisions. Accidents. Flukes. During the time of a corrupt Ministry, which set out to hunt down extraordinaries, Geryon found himself at the wrong side of the table. With his knowledge and skills they wanted him on their team – to perform torturing research on others. If he refused, they would burn down his shop and make him one of the subjects of study instead. For the Crowley heir it was not much of a choice.
No one is ever always alone. Along those mislead paths of life someone will bother. For a second, for a while. Is there ever such a final thing as good or bad? At least two sides, they say. Sometimes many more. Depends on where you stand. What you look at. How you see it. Who’s there with you. Where they stand. How they see it. How you see them. Some claim trouble attracts trouble. Maybe that is because trouble understands what it’s like. And even when broken, empty and demented – he could still be saved. By the creatures. The animals. By the young girl with nothing left to loose. After spending time in Azkaban for his crimes and involvement in the Institutions, Geryon was spit out of Hell as a mere shell of the man he once was. Broken in every angle. Empty and tormented. Even the most basic of everyday things took a long time learning again. Getting back into. And a lot of it just never fell back into place. It was first when the girl from his transfiguration class walked through the doors of his sanctuary of misfits, and for some reason chose to stay under his employ, the pale man got a new sense of purpose. Growing protective of the girl things slowly started to matter a bit again, and Crow decided that he would do whatever it took to take care of that dark den in Knockturn, and all of the twisted creatures within.
Not everyone is a hero. Predictable. Following a tuned moral compass set by honor and duty. Some have lost a lot of pieces along the way. Gained a few odd ones. Just make things up as they go along. He has saved. He has doomed. Discovered. Hidden. Helped and sabotaged. Many wants to see him burn. One won’t let you say a bad word to him. There are countless things to be said about Geryon. About Crow. But one thing is a certain, undeniable fact – he still is. And everything considered, that’s quite something.
SAMPLE ROLEPLAYIt was the largest office in Hogwarts and, perhaps to students and newcomers, the most intimidating. The shelves were filled with various odds and ends, with a place of honor for the Sorting Hat, and the walls held all the portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses.
In the middle of the room sat a large desk. Everything was in order, for the current occupant had always despised a messy desk. It was the sign of a messy mind, and she had always favored neatness.
A clock sat on the desk, which currently showed the time to be 2:05. The meeting was supposed to begin at 2:00 precisely.
Along with order, Anneka valued punctuality. She was a very busy woman these days. Even during the summer, she had a number of matters to attend to. Interviewing and hiring staff was only of those matters. The newest potential member of her staff wasn't making a good impression.
She paced the room, black heels clicking against the stone floor. When the door finally opened, Anneka turned, her expression reminiscent of a Russian winter. "You are late."
Explain yourself was what her face said.Roleplay Response:It was hard telling what was more strange – the fact that he had actually managed to leave his shop and sacred sanctuary at all, or that he now found himself back walking the halls of Hogwarts. How many times had he left through these doors, thinking he would never return? Three times? Four? Geryon couldn’t remember. To be honest he didn’t even remember if he’d managed to lock up the latest delivery of highly poisonous scorpions in the shop before he left..
Oh well, hopefully Evelyn didn’t trust him enough not to check.
And if not, it would be a problem for another time.
Right now, the pale man was too busy letting his cold, grey eyes swoop along the floor. Up the walls. So familiar. But never home. Sure, there was always something. Always when he returned, he felt ..
something. Or maybe he had just been tasting a few too many pixie treats again.
Just about to say something, Geryon came to realize that Evelyn was not by his side at the moment. So strange, not having her present – if only for a short amount of time. The girl had become essential. A necessity more than the man would ever be able to recognize, even if he tried. A sort of last connection between him and the world of the living, ordinary people. Without her it just wouldn’t work. This, him or anything else.
Back before the headmistress’ office. Still the same as last time he was employed. Still the same as when his father worked there.
"You are late."The words cut through the air as the black-dressed figure entered the room. A smirk came to his lips. It was not only the building that did not change. “Ivanova,” he greeted – almost in the way a normal person would when faced with an old acquaintance. Choosing to believe Anneka had been missing his employ, taking into account that this was actually surprisingly punctual for being him, the man continued;
“I would have come sooner, had I not been occupied with..” pausing for a moment his eyes wandered the room.
“..Different matters demanding my attention.” Like being locked away in Azkaban.
PM sent to Anneka in the following 5 minutes *twirls*
