Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Christopher Beckett
Gender: Male
Age: 20 (November 11, 1942)
Blood Status: Pureblood

Education: 
Warren Metropolitan Youth Academy for the Gifted (1947-1952)
Ilvermorny (1953-1960)

Residence:
Bexley, London

Occupation
Unemployed

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the Ministry, Shrieking Shack) or to take over an existing shop in need of new management?
No

Requested Magic Levels:

• Charms: 10
• Divination: 5
• Transfiguration: 7
• Summoning: 10

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
No.

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Timothy Winchester
Edmund Whiteclaw

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Christopher Beckett was born with a silver spoon in his mouth but he became quite insistent upon spitting out not too long later.

The Beckett family had lived for as long as anyone could remember in a large, tired manor in upstate New York. The home from the outside looked as if it had lived quite a remarkable life but on the inside, you couldn’t escape the sinking feeling that nothing worth talking about had ever happened in those halls. It’s a joyless place, kept quite dark and drafty by a family who’s stuck being blindly devoted to worn out traditions.

The patriarch of the family for the last thirty years has been Clarence Beckett, a man of great height but little wit. He’s a near clone of every patricarch that has preceded him. He’s instilled in his family that their wealth and their name gives them an allowance to not bother themselves with things as common as working. There’s not a need for it, he says. No need when their wealth has no end in sight. The family has a great many investments made in the New York Stock Exchange and it keeps their wallets quite fat. Even in the throws of the depression, their previously earned capital acted as quite a thick cushion.

Always present to the right of Clarence is his wife Constance. Their marriage is loveless, but appearances outweigh happiness. Though that didn’t stop him from taking a few mistresses over the years. Her family is of considerable wealth as well, the marriage having been orchestrated by both of their fathers as a means of tying their status into one knot. Clarence and Constance hadn’t met but once before they exchanged cold and dismissive vows and though they spent all of their time together, they rarely spoke to one another.

Clarence and Constance’s first child was Catherine. Brought into the world with little emotional fanfare in 1935, she was mostly ignored by Clarence and Constance and left in the care of nannies until her fifth birthday. Clarence was far from content with a daughter as he firmly believes in no female heirs, so he insisted Constance bear him another child. Their second child, once more a daughter, was born in 1937 and given the name Coraline. Like her sister, she was left to the care of nannies. Clarence insisted once more that Constance bear him a son and she successfully did so in 1940. The couple’s first son, Cassidy, was brought into the home and quickly gained his father’s extensive attention. He was determined to mold Cassidy into the perfect heir. Wishing to provide himself with a contingency plan in the event Cassidy died young, Clarence insisted on one more child. The couple’s final son, Christopher, was born.

Christopher was placed in his father’s hands and alongside Cassidy, began the process of being molded to meet the Beckett image. The boys were not permitted to cry and if they were heard doing so, swift intervention from Clarence or a nanny would silence them immediately. As the boys began to age, Christopher began to show notable differences from Cassidy. While Cassidy was obedient and eager to please his father, Christopher expressed little interest in listening and instead occupied much of his time breaking established manor rules.

At the age of 5, like his brother before him, Christopher was enrolled at the Warren Metropolitan Youth Academy for the Gifted. Similar to the dynamic between the boys at home, Cassidy excelled and Christopher fell far short of expectations. He expressed a desire to play, to live the life of a normal child. He didn’t understand why he was denied this luxury at every turn. At many points throughout his five year education at the academy, the headmaster threatened to expel him, but was routinely convinced to keep him at the insistence of his Clarence.

When Christopher returned home in the summers, he was furiously ribbed by Clarence. He looked for sympathy in his mother, sisters, and brother, but he was shown nothing but coldness and at times, disdain. This sewed deep within Christopher a sharp resentment for the people she shared blood with. In his resentment, he promised himself that he was going to do all that he could to separate himself from their behavior. When he was at home, he locked himself in his room and refused to participate in any gatherings. Many of the Beckett family’s wealthy connections were even unaware that Cassidy wasn’t the youngest.

Christopher longed for his Ilvermorny education, though it was quite nearly denied. Clarence made the decision to route Cassidy to the Salem Institute, believing it’s deeper roots in the magic community was more appropriate for the Beckett name. Christopher adamantly refused, taking a stand against his father. Clarence wholeheartedly intended to wrestle his son into submission but backed down when Christopher announced intentions to inform the community of Clarence’s numerous affairs which would derail the family’s status.

By that point in time, Clarence was more enthusiastic about getting Christopher away from him than he was molding the boy into an heir. Clarence allowed Christopher to attend Ilvermorny on the condition that he not return for the winter holidays, a condition Christopher was more than happy to meet. Christopher was determined to find a home at Ilvermorny and he was quite successful in doing so. In an environment that fostered his growth, Christopher excelled. He frequently got ahead of his peers in classes, made a steady stream of friends, and was quite liked by the school’s staff. He worked hard at his studies, but worked quite a bit harder to keep his lineage a secret. There were quite a few people in the castle who recognized Christopher’s surname and asked if he was connected to the wealthy Beckett family. He brushed it off as a simple coincidence.

He worked so diligently at hiding the truth that he enlisted the help of some trusted outside connections to send him clothes that were more commonplace among the American middle class than the upper class. He successfully eluded association with the family for five terms before an inquisitive professor effectively blew his cover by speaking openly about their own family members attending a few of the Beckett’s parties. Christopher was mortified that he would be treated differently as a result of the knowledge becoming public, but was delighted to find that most simply didn’t care. Those who were shocked at his deception connected the fact that he was so insistent upon keeping the secret with dissatisfaction with the truth and continued on as if they’d become none the wiser.

Christopher graduated rather reluctantly near the top of his class. His graduation was attended by his eldest sister, begrudgingly sent in place of the family. His work was rewarded with a single letter from his father which read simply “We hope you are willing to give credit to those who allowed you to have your way.” Christopher burned the letter in the fireplace of the manor upon his return. In 1961, Christopher began to rebel even further than before. He painted his room in bright colors, let his grow scruffy, and began to dress in increasingly bright and outlandish clothing. Tensions between Clarence and his youngest child grew to oppressive levels.

Things came to ahead on the 4th of July. Cassidy announced to the family his engagement to the daughter of a wealthy New England rail tycoon the week prior and Clarence invited many of the family’s closest contacts to the 4th of July garden party to celebrate. Seeing this as an opportunity to embarrass his family, Christopher promised to be away from the house as the party took place. However, a few hours into the engagement, Christopher arrived with a young woman named Lucia Fox in tow. Lucia had been Cassidy’s partner whilst he studied at the Salem Institute. They’d separated weeks prior to their graduation when it became apparent that Cassidy was routinely unfaithful. She then revealed that she and Cassidy had gone out together twice since he began courting his new fiance revealing that he still was insistent upon being unfaithful, much like his father.

Outraged, Clarence struck Christopher in full view of the party, sending a wave of silence falling over the crowded manor. Satisfied that he’d exposed some of his family’s true colors, Christopher packed his bag and travelled by train to Massachusetts. He spent the remainder of the year living with a friend he’d made at school before deciding to leave for London (“I want nothing more than an ocean between the Beckett family and I.”) shortly into the New Year. Making a stop at the bank where much of his family’s wealth was stored, Christopher took advantage of the fact that he’d yet to be removed from the family’s account. He withdrew some money, “enough to be livable”, and took a floo to a small inn in London he’d been corresponding with for a few months. There, Christopher received assistance from the innkeeper in taking up a residence in the Bexley neighborhood of London.

He has minimal, if any, connections to the community and has concentrated on attempting to get a life started for himself. He’s determined to live completely to the contrary of the Beckett family. He wishes to keep a small home, wishes to allow his hair to be as scruffy as it likes to be, wishes to dress as he sees fit for the day (“Some days I’d like a turtleneck and a blazer, some days I’d much prefer something colorful and eye catching.”) Cassidy has written to him a great many times, attempting to encourage Christopher to return home and remodel himself into an upstanding member of the family. After the fourth letter, Christopher wrote a simple reply that he hoped would cut the contact off entirely:

“I hope you are willing to give yourselves credit for pushing me away.”

Roleplay: 
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:
Chris had been in Wizarding England for almost two weeks now, but he still entered Diagon Alley with wide eyed wonder every time. It was for all intents and purposes a playground for the uninitiated. Certainly, the hundreds who passed through this cobblestone alley every day were well used to it, unsurprised and unimpressed by the shops and the trinkets that lay within them. But this had not been the world that Chris was brought up in.

He hadn’t been exposed to the hustle and bustle of public marketplaces, experienced the annoyance of waiting in line, felt the clawing of nerves in his stomach when he had to approach the counter to ask for some assistance in finding something he could visualize but didn’t know the name of. No, he’d come up in the world of having things delivered to his father’s manor and hearing that those public market places were for people far below him. Now that he’d escaped that nonsense, he wanted to be in the thick of things as often as possible, so he’d come out into the alley almost every day to see what there was to be seen.

It was particularly busy today, but the ebb and flow of the traffic was unintrusive. Everyone moved at pace and splintered off to slide through the frames of doors when they needed to and then perfectly merging back into the traffic when they needed to move on. There were no interruptions or breaks in the movement.

That was until one of them fell to the ground with an undignified crash.

Her cries for help cut through the sounds of the day and guided Chris directly to her position. Kneeling down, he extended a hand to the woman, pulling her up gently. He knelt back down to collect her things, handing them over with a smile. “Are you alright, miss?” She didn’t look like the type who would let a little fall crack her shell, but it didn’t hurt to ask. Looking her up and down, Chris could place that she wasn’t out shopping, but he couldn’t guess what she was here for if not that. She didn’t seem to fit into this crowd anymore than he did.

Looking at her notepad, the wheels in Chris’ head began to turn. “Are you studying something?”

OTHER
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