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Topics - Jack Greenberg

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Elsewhere Accepted / Jack Greenberg
« on: 05/06/2022 at 06:53 »

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

Character Name: Jack Greenberg
Gender: Male
Age: September 24, 1940
Blood Status: Half-Blood

Hogwarts- Gryffindor

Belgravia, London

American Auror working as the “Junior Under Secretary for International Magical Law Enforcement Cooperation”

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?
Ministry of Magic- Department of Magical Law Enforcement

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: 5
  • Transfiguration: 8
  • Summoning: 9
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
Not at this time

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

Biography: (300 words minimum.)

Jack is the son of Joshua Greenberg of Brooklyn, New York and Jamie Greenberg née Mulligan, formerly of Dublin, Ireland. Born on 24 September 1940 to the large and influential Greenberg family of New York, Jack has always strayed from the beaten path. While siblings and cousins were the perfect children, Jack always seemed to manage to find trouble. At 10, after managing to burn down the barn of a well-placed congressional official, Jack was shipped off to Dublin to live with his grandparents, former ministry employees, and sent to Hogwarts.

An academically gifted, although incredibly lazy student, Jack moved back to New York after graduation and took a job as an Auror. He did well in training, being placed in a covert unit tracking down members of an illegal poison smuggling ring (although office rumor was an uncle, a renowned magizoologist, secured the position). During the final takedown, a civilian was killed in the crossfire. Details released were murky, and the controversy was “earth shattering”, with the press calling for an investigation. Ultimately, while Jack was cleared of the death, his record was scorched.

Refusing to let their son crash and burn, Jacks parents called a friend, and Jack was “promoted” to be a senior officials representative to the Ministry and banished to London in an “exchange program”, although who the ministry sent was never brought up again. His official capacity, described to him in a fairly rushed meeting, is to coordinate Magical investigation that involve international crime between the UK and US. He was then flatly told that if he “messed this one up no rich family member will have enough pull to protect” him. 

His sealed personnel file looks as if he is two different men: Intelligent, with a solid work ethic forged from the Aurors, and decorations for valor. Also described as “a bored, over educated rich kid who can’t decide if he wants to work on a Muggle car one week or try to become an animagus the next, or try his hand at occumency.”

Landing in London, he lives in a flat owned by his mothers cousin and starts work at the Ministry in a few days.

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:
Jack was not having a phenomenal week. Since arriving in London he had already received three letters from New York tearing him a new one for various things he had no control over. How could he possibly know anything about a group from New Jersey trying to blow up the Congress for their policy on muggles when he was in London?

The trip to Diagon Alley wasn’t planned, but as his departure from the upper east side was also not planned, he had forgotten basic necessities. What Auror forgets a basic copy of “Advanced Defensive Spells”? What wizard doesn’t bring a basic potions kit? A disgraced one, despite his parents making sure the details were kept hush hush.

He still had a few days before starting his position at the Ministry. Boring days spent trying to practice occlemacy and trying to brush up on his British counterparts ongoing fight against dark magic. And he was now an administrative quill-scribbler. Not how he planned on his career going.

A commotion ahead snapped him back to reality. A woman, about his age, was on the ground, her shoe being kicked towards him by the crowd. “For the love of…” he muttered as he took two quick steps forward and grabbed it. Woman’s heel, average size, scuffs on the toe from walking around in tight quarters. An office worker? Maybe. The heel itself was worn, so not a new shoe. Middle class. But she wasn’t a suspect, and frankly, he was trying to go on with his day. “You okay?” He asked, holding out a hand, and quickly realizing how strange a thick New York accent sounded in London .

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