Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Odysseus 'Odd' Morgenstern
Gender: Male
Age: 34
Blood Status: Halfblood

Education: 
Koldovstoretz drop out. (Russian School of Magic)

Residence:
London

Occupation
Attempting to reform Cat Burglar. Currently 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?
Nope

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 Special Request form here.

• Charms: 10
• Divination: 7
• Transfiguration: 2
• Summoning: 13

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
Nope

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Annette Noir

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Odd. Thats what he always preferred to go by. It suited him more then 'Obysseus.' Who wanted to be stuck on a 10 year journey home after fighting a huge war? Not this guy. He did leave home rather early...

Most of Odd's childhood was spent under the care of his grandparents, who wanted little to nothing to do with him. They preferred he stick to the background when visitors came over and that was fine with him. It was hard to swipe his grandparents things when the spotlight was on. Stealing had come just as naturally to him as breathing. He made quite the career out of it as a child, always swiping the gold or silver. When he was younger, he would just move the things he stole and hide them. Getting a kick out of his Grandmother freaking out about the lost candlesticks. Later, he discovered money and pawn shops. How he loved money and pawn shops!

When Odd was around 11, his mother returned, albeit briefly. She cooed and fawned over Odd, calling him handsome and all this other nonsense. He stole her wallet right out of her purse, and her passport from her jacket as she did these things. She promised to do better, be better... Then she convinced her parents to send Odd to Russia.

She had apparently spent some time in Russia and loved it there.

It was the worst.

Moving to a new country and not knowing any Russian was the worst. Odd was beaten by his peers the first year, and almost failed outright. His grandparents hired a tutor to teach him russian and only then did Odd start to do a little better and ONLY a little better. He now knew what to say to the bullies who had beaten him, and how to tell his teachers where to stick the ruler when they threatened to rap his knuckles with it. Soon, everyones things started going missing again and Odd was breaking bank. Paying the smarter kids to do just enough of his work to keep him going.

His second to last year in the school, he left. Told one of the teachers he was done, simply as that, and left. He joined a small time gang in Russia, mostly small time thefts that just grew over time. Banks, houses, shops... Nothing was too small or too big. He kept in contact with home though, sending letters to his brother and sister. Which was ultimately how he was caught.

Wizarding police in Russia got out of his letters before it reached its destination and traced it back to Odd and his crew. Odd and his people resisted, and his entire crew died. Wands were drawn, fire erupted, people died on all sides. The police there had little remorse for thieves and Odd only survived by the skin of his teeth. The first couple months of his arrest he spent in a hospital, healing from the wounds the police had beaten into him. Once he was deemed well enough he was sent to a real prison. In Russia.

He had been 24 when he entered the prison. 33 when his sentence was over. 34 when he decided to go and visit his cousins.

He sent 1 letter from the prison, too ashamed to let his family know what had happened. He merely wrote in the letter that he was going to miss them then vanished for close to ten years. Just like his mother. Thankfully, he had no children, no one to really disappoint, he was sure that his family thought him dead thanks to the ominous letter, and apart of him was happy thinking about it.

What made him choose to visit his cousins over his siblings and grandparents? He wasn't entirely sure. Maybe it was the fact they were closer to a big city, that he hated he was turning out to be like his mother and wanted to be different. Wanted to branch out.

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:
Ah, how pretty... What would Smitty call her? Devitsa? Yeah, damsel. A damsel in distress. He could almost picture Smitty, one of his old crew, pointing her out as she struggled to find her shoe as it got kicked around. Normally they would all just leave her be, let her struggle... But then again... His crew was dead, Odd was alone, and he had nothing better to do.

With a sigh, Odd pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against. Waiting right outside a nearby shop he had applied to. Not like he was going to get the job anyways, he had no experience as a clerk. His entire youth had been spent stealing, his young adult years were spent stealing and then in prison. Now he was... youngish and far too ashamed he had been caught. People died thanks to him, people he had been friends with. Odd shook his head, making sure to wash the bad thoughts from his mind before he started his walk towards the damsel in distress. He was a rather imposing figure on his own, his red hair tended to stick out, and he was often told he walked like a man with a mission.

With a deft hand he snatched the shoe off the ground and then to the girl. He offered her the shoe, "Here."

How vunerable she was... How easy it would be to just help her up, flash a smile at her, and then slip his hand into her pocket where he could hear the galleons jingling... But no, he was reformed. He had done his time. Almost 10 years in a Russian prison. No more theft... At least, that was what he was going to tell himself.

Maybe just once more...

His face twisted into perfect, the smile on his face showed off his white teeth framed perfectly by his beard. Which he had grown to love dearly in prison.

"Kak vas zavoot, Ahren?" He pauses then laughs at his own little mistake. "Excuse me. Been a long time since I spoke English. Need a hand, sweetheart?" A rough translation of what he had said.

OTHER
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