Application - Arthur Windsor

[Arthur Windsor]

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Arthur Windsor
Gender: Male
Age: 14 August 1949 - 24
Blood Status: Half-Blood

Education: 
Hapsburg School of the Magical Arts - Class of 1966

Residence:
Folkestone, Kent, England

Occupation:
Record Keeper - Youth Welfare Office

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?
Hogwarts

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: 10
• Divination: 9
• Transfiguration: 8
• Summoning: 5

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:
Tim Winchester, et al

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Arthur Windsor’s life has been in some ways more defined by who he isn’t than who he is.

The son of a woman with the birth surname of Cuddron, he has spent everyday being reminded that he should be grateful that he isn’t one of them. The way his mother put it, her brother and his wife were the sort of people that one wishes they could blot out of the family tree. No-gooders who had built their life in the shadow of life’s evils, embracing every inch of the dark that came with it. Arthur didn’t really know what this meant when he was a kid, but as he got older, pieces of a war and dark allegiances fell firmly into place.

He didn’t really know about his mother’s family beyond what she told him of them. All he could say for certain was that they had done terrible things and that his mother’s skin grew a pale, icy white whenever she heard their name said aloud.

Arthur made it a habit to never say them.

If he was honest about it all though, Arthur felt the weight of these people that he didn’t know. They loomed over his head like a dark cloud threatening to let rain loose on him at any moment. He expected daily to learn of some dark secret, of some horrid truth that would upend his entire life forever. It never came, but the possibility scared him. It forced him into the straight and narrow, made him keep his head down and his eyes forward so as to be the best that he could be. He wanted to rewrite his mother’s bloodline, show her that she had gotten away and made something good come of it.

Great measures had been taken to ensure that they never brushed elbows with the people Arthur’s mother wanted to forget. They moved to an isolated village in the north of England and sent Arhthur to a school in Eastern Europe rather than Hogwarts. His education was obtained across seven wonderful years at Hapsburg School of the Magical Arts where he excelled in his classes, ranked highly in sports, and became the pride of his professors. His mother would congratulate him often, but would always follow it with a reminder that she was so glad he wasn’t like them.

Defined by what he wasn’t rather than who he was.

Upon finishing school, he returned home and immediately insisted that he move. He craved the ability to spread his wings, to discover what paths lay before him, and to carve his own life. His parents were happy to let him, if a little apprehensive. But he was sure of himself. Maybe others only saw him for what he wasn’t, but he believed strongly in who he thought himself to be. He uprooted and took off for the coast, finding himself a lovely little house that overlooked the sea in Folkestone, Kent.

It wasn’t long until he found himself taking the floo to London every morning to clock in for another shift at the Ministry. He’d wound his way through a couple of departments before landing himself a job in the Youth Welfare department as a record keeper. It was his responsibility to maintain the archive of paperwork, files, and correspondence that the social workers used to help wayward children in need through the worst times of their lives. He excelled in this role, finding himself fulfilled in his work, and convinced of its importance.

It was through this position that he met a man by the name of Timothy Winchester, a figure that fascinated him deeply. The two became fast friends, and before long, Arthur was just about the only person Winchester trusted to properly care for his thick files of meticulously written notes and detailed plans of action.

Arthur had looked at it purely as friendship rather than networking, but one day, Winchester surprised him. Winchester was a brilliant social worker, but his passion was teaching. Anyone could see that. Imagine the shock that came with the news that Winchester had decided his time at Hogwarts was over and that he would be around the welfare office full time. Arthur congratulated him, but was stopped from saying how happy he was to get to spend more time with the peer that fascinated him so.

You see, Timothy Winchester seemed to see Arthur for exactly what he was. A competent, intelligent, careful man who seemed to make others feel comfortable and listened to. A perfect candidate for a soon to be open position at Hogwarts, Tim said.

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:
Diagon Alley, somehow, was always alive.

Arthur couldn’t think of a single trip he’d taken to the shopping high street where things felt quiet and calm. All day, every day, the slim streets were packed shoulder to shoulder with shoppers young and old alike looking for all sorts of things in the little shops and corner stores. It could be annoying at times, Arthur supposed, but more often than not he found a bit of pleasant anonymity in it all. There was something almost calming about just being a person in the crowd, not mattering to anyone passing by.

Not that he was anyone remarkable or particularly well known, that is. No, he was just a record keeper. He spent his days in a tiny corner office processing hundreds of forms that carried with them incredibly sensitive information and detailed plans of action for at-risk individuals. He handled the responsibility as best he could, but if he were honest, he didn’t really see himself keeping the job long-term.

He liked some of his co-workers, but the environment was incredibly tense. The department was understaffed and overworked and it led to the people who filled the department were always tired. The people they helped were some of the most disadvantaged people in the whole country as well. It made being on the floor a somewhat oppressive environment. He supposed he wouldn’t feel that way if he himself were a social worker, but he wasn’t. He simply had to stop and look at it all from the outside, unable to assist in any real or meaningful way.

But he was able to help the lady lying in the street in front of him.

He had seen the woman fall but had not been able to catch her. Everyone around her just kept walking, not paying any real attention to her. Sighing at their rudeness, Arthur stepped forward through the crowd and knelt down beside the woman.

“Kindness seems to be getting rarer and rarer these days,” he said, holding his hand out to the woman.

“Can I help you up?”

OTHER
How did you find us? Google

[Dylan Duckheart]

Accepted!