Marcus Anthares Vega
 | ||
| Marcus Antares Vega | ||
| Biographical Information | ||
| Full name | Marcus Antares Vega, currently under the alias of Lukas Altair | |
|---|---|---|
| Born | 11 December 1914 | |
| Birthplace | London, England | |
| Deceased | Fire accident 24 August 1933 | |
| Residence | London, England | |
| Nationality | British / Norwegian | |
| Blood Status | Pureblood | |
| Education | Gokstad Academy (1926-1929) Hogwarts (1929-1933), Ravenclaw | |
| Class | 1933 | |
| Physical Information | ||
| Gender | Male | |
| Hair colour | Dark brown | |
| Eye colour | Blue | |
| Family Information | ||
| Spouse | None | |
| Children | None | |
| Parents | Marcus Rigel Vega, Tiril Eir Vega | |
| Siblings | Catharina Vega (b. 1918) | |
| Magical Characteristics | ||
| Wand | Oak, dragon heartstring, 13 inches, sturdy | |
| Patronus | Hawk | |
| Affiliation | ||
| Occupation | Lukas Altair | |
| Loyalty | The Order (1931-) | |
Honours
- Quidditch Chaser 1929 - 1933
- Quidditch Captain 1930 - 1933
- Spellbound Writer & Editor 1931 - 1932
- Prefect 1931 - 1932
- Head Boy 1932 - 1933
- Advance Guard 1932 - 1933
Wand Story
Diagon Alley was packed with people. It always was at this time of year, full of students and their parents buying their last supplies before heading for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All the stores were full. Everyone were carrying new books and school robes, owls were hooting, and Marcus, his father, his father's mother, and his little sister, was hurrying along the streets trying to remember where they were supposed to go next.
Life was a mess for the Vega family. They were one short. Short of one that they needed badly in times like this.
Marcus didn't need robes for Hogwarts. He didn't need any of the books they had here either, his books had already been taken care of and were lying in their home in Norway, ready in his school trunk. Marcus wasn't attending Hogwarts, he would be going to Gokstad Academy. He was only here because they were visiting his grandparents.
In front of him Marcus could see his big grandmother, dragging little Catharina by the hand, her vivid red hair contrasting greatly with their grandmother's long dark grey. Grandma was a good person, a safe person. Strict, but with both feet firmly planted at the ground. There was no room for dreaming or fantasising about the impossible inside of that head. Behind him Marcus could see the tall figure of his father, as shabby looking as ever, with a beard that had been allowed to grow on its own for a few days too long. Marcus could swear his young father's dark hair had little tints of grey in it that had never been there before. But maybe it was just the sun playing games.
"Here we are," said grandmother's deep voice. "The finest wand maker in the world. Much better than whoever they have got stacked up in Norway, believe me."
Daddy just nodded.
Grandma didn't know much about Norway. Mother had always travelled to England, sometimes bringing family with her, rarely the other way around. Marcus had questioned it once without getting a real answer. Grandma had always called mom a fine girl, a beauty even, that was what Marcus had heard. Maybe they just preferred their family being home in England. Supposedly his grandparents hadn't been to enthusiastic about their son moving to Norway in the first place. Maybe they thought it was too far away. Marcus' father's parents had certain qualities they wanted to keep up, they wanted their children and grandchildren to have the best, so they could perform their best. Being a pureblood was about these things, and having an acceptable job and a decent amount of money was critical. In their opinion, their son wasn't the best example of this, being a journalist, even though he had married pure, and happily so.
Catharina stared in awe at the shop window in front of them. She had never seen so many wands in one place. "Can't I have one too?" she asked in a whiny voice. She was going to cry about it when they told her no, Marcus knew that. She would always do her best to get what she wanted. Those who did not know how to deal with it became little sly Cat's victims, because surely she knew how to deal with them, even at the age of seven.
Father took Marcus by the hand. Marcus protested, he was starting school now, he didn't want to look like a child being followed around. Sure dad could come with him, but not while holding his hand. "You two go have an ice cream or something, I'll get this done." Daddy's voice was lazy, dragging, not in the mood for things like ice cream. He hadn't been for over half a year. He had barely been able of taking care of his two children on his own. Luckily grandma had seen how weary he was and come to Norway to help, despite her apparent dislike for the little country. It was too cold, she said. Too full of weird people, too empty of wizards. She had told her son to come back to England. He had said he needed to get things settled first, that he needed time.
Catharina cried loudly as Marcus and his father went into the wand shop. Through his misery his father could feel a tiny ray of light upon entering the store through its wooden door. His son was getting his first wand. Despite everything, this was not something he'd ever want to miss.
Marcus looked around, excited. There were shelves everywhere, packed with little boxes somehow organised, though he couldn't see how. Marcus had been to Diagon Alley many times before, but he had not seen the inside all of the shops yet. This one was a lot bigger than it looked from the outside.
"Aaah, Mr. Vega," greeted the old shop keeper himself, referring to Marcus' father. "Larch, 12 1/3 inches, core of a hippogriff feather, am I right? Quite flexible. A tricky little thing."
Dad nodded once, holding his hand on Marcus' shoulder, symbolising quietly that he was there with his son, wondering what kind of wand they would be leaving with. "Young master Vega," the shopkeeper said, reaching out a hand to greet. Marcus grabbed the old man's hand excitedly. Getting his own wand had been a dream for long. Finally he could start working on learning all of those spells he had been reading about.
"Let's see," said the shopkeeper, mumbling to himself while examining the shelves. "You seem quite a mirror of your father, maybe we'll start from there." The shopkeeper reached for a box on top of one of the shelves. Though he had noticed the father's shabbiness he said nothing about it. His work was the art of wands, not digging in what was troubling people. There were plenty of miserable souls out there, hopefully they would grow from their problems rather than getting consumed by them. Though the son resembled his father he looked just as healthy and curious as a boy his age should.
The shopkeeper opened a small box containing a dark colored wooden wand. "Try this one. Walnut, 11 inches, phoenix feather." Marcus took the wand, trying to suppress his eagerness on getting his hands on it. Knowing exactly what to do, he gave it a wave and waited, disappointed that nothing happened. The shopkeeper grabbed it from him just as fast as he had given it, then started shuffling through his boxes.
"Here, Hawthorn, 9 3/4 inches, dragon heartstring. Nice and strong." Marcus grabbed the wand that was being offered to him, noticing the difference at once. His fingers was tingeling, he felt warmer. But the shopkeeper was not as impressed, snatching the wand from his fingers and putting it back in the little box. "Getting there," he mumbled. He stood thinking for a moment, finger under his chin, eyes watching the mountains of wand boxes on his shelves. Then he reached out again, this time for a box at the far end of the nearest shelf, opening it and offering it to Marcus to try. "Oak, 13 inches, dragon heartstring."
The sensation was overwhelming, Marcus felt like he was being lifted off the ground, almost like he was riding a broomstick. But he was even more free doing this, getting the tremendous feeling that anything was possible.
The shopkeeper's face lit up in a wide grin as the old man watched the boy. Daddy had slipped out of his shabbiness for a moment and was looking like it was him that had just had the sensation of flying, staring wide eyed at his son. Marcus really didn't want to give the wand away and was happy that he didn't need to, because his father started digging in his pockets for money and handed some over to the shopkeeper.
"Good good," the shopkeeper said, handing back some change and looking happily at Marcus. "It's a very strong wand, and very flexible. Good for a person of many talents. It can do much good in the right hands." Marcus looked up at him. In the right hands? Did that mean that it could do much bad then in the wrong hands? And whose hands would that be other than his own? Marcus had absolutely no intentions of giving away his wand to anyone.
Marcus walked as in a dream, unable of taking his eyes off his wand, which caused him to bump into people so that his father took his hand and dragged him along. This time Marcus didn't protest, his mind was too occupied by other things.
They found grandma and Catharina halfway through two huge strawberry ice creams outside one of the many cafés. Catharina started crying again at the moment she saw what Marcus had in his hand, stopped for about two seconds to ask if she could try it, and then started screaming at the rejection.
Dad took his daughter's ice cream before she had the chance to throw it at anybody, feeling just as weary as he had been before entering the wand shop. He sunk down at one of the little café chairs, imagining how it would have been having Tiril around still, her cheery face joking every time he got annoyed at something. He needed her smile. He needed her comfort, he needed her embracing him and telling that everything was going to be all right. And if it wasn't, it was going to be valuable in some way, because she had read it in her runes.
But Tiril Eir Vega's runes was stacked in their little bag on top of a shelf where it couldn't be seen. And Tiril herself was lying under 6 feet of heavy earth. They were never to see the sun on her face again.
Course Listing
1929-1930
Conjuring/Summoning
Defence Against the Dark Arts
Divination (Valedictorian)
Potions
1930-1931
Astronomy
Charms
Conjuring/Summoning (Valedictorian)
Muggle Studies (Valedictorian)
1931-1932
Conjuring/Summoning - Outstanding (Valedictorian)
Charms - Outstanding
Defence Against the Dark Arts - Outstanding (Valedictorian)
Necromancy - Acceptable
Potions - Acceptable
1932-1933
Conjuring/Summoning
Defence Against the Dark Arts - Exceeds Expectations
Wizarding Studies
N.E.W.T.s: Conjuring/Summoning, Divination (IC), Defence Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy (IC)
See also: The Vega Family, The Eir Family
