Samael Gray
 | ||
| Samael Gray | ||
| Biographical Information | ||
| Full name | Samael Sanford Gray | |
|---|---|---|
| Born | 9 March 1937 | |
| Birthplace | Wales | |
| Residence | Everywhere and nowhere | |
| Nationality | Welsh | |
| Blood Status | Halfblood | |
| Education | Hogwarts, Ravenclaw (dropout) | |
| Class | 1956 | |
| Physical Information | ||
| Gender | Male | |
| Hair colour | Dark blond | |
| Eye colour | Brown | |
| Family Information | ||
| Spouse | None | |
| Children | None | |
| Parents | Michael Gray (halfblood), Dahlia Prothero (pureblood) | |
| Siblings | Tegan Owensby (b. 1921), Wendelyn Prothero (b. 1936) | |
| Other Family Members | The Prothero Family | |
| Magical Characteristics | ||
| Wand | Yew, phoenix feather + his father's wand: Hawthorn, pegasus wingfeather | |
| Patronus | Rat | |
| Special Ability | Theft, assault, running away | |
| Affiliation | ||
| Occupation | Petty criminal, physical jobs where he can find them | |
| Former Occupation(s) | Convict | |
| Loyalty | Absolutely noone | |
Biography
Sammy didn't learn to walk. He learnt to run.
And they were little feet, but they brought him a long way in a matter of seconds, an agile little child, motoric in every way but in the ones that required patience. Gifted would some say, if it had been considered a gift running from your already exhausted mother. Samael wasn't easily cuddled, for he couldn't sit still for a second, and it was for many long nights that he had been lying in bed, screaming his lungs out because he didn't want to sleep, yet was dead tired.
For Sammy didn't learn to talk, he learnt to shout.
Sammy didn't like peas. He didn't like cold. Didn't like when it was too dark or too quiet or even too loud. If there had been some sort of box to place around the world, to frame it, Samael might have tried and then torn it all back down. Sometimes it was the contrasts that made the world into what it was, yet he barely registered them. To the two-years-old the world was a mass of sounds and colours and movements, and he floated with them. Had to, because it was all bringing him somewhere, and then he had to let it. He did not think, for nobody had really taught him to, and he didn't listen to them when they tried to make him, because there was always something else going on, catching his attention.
But Sammy liked his sister. Even if they didn't share a last name and even if she wasn't truly really his sister because they had different fathers and different bloods. He didn't know what that meant. And he crawled into her bed at night, because Wendelyn Prothero was always warm and it was the only place in which he sometimes wanted to lie still. Although he kicked her in his sleep. He kicked her when they were awake, but he kicked her in his sleep too.
And his mommy, she was warm sometimes too. And sometimes him and Winnie would crawl into mommy's bed, but he wouldn't lie still at all. Instead he'd jump on top of them both. He looked different from mommy, and from Winnie, and mommy had said it was because his father looked different, but Sammy didn't know who his father was so he didn't understand what they meant and he didn't care either.
Sometimes he pushed his dinner plate on the floor even though he was hungry. And when mommy tried to feed him, he'd turn away his head. And when she told him to stop, in that tired voice, he'd grin. When she tried again, he'd scream until she let him out of the chair. And then he'd scream some more later, because he was hungry. Because, in general, Sammy quite liked food.
He pulled their hair too. All of their hair. Because it made them make funny noises and expressions. And he liked climbing. Once he managed to make a bookshelf fall over, to the Protheros' horror, for they'd thought he'd been underneath. But he hadn't. And from that point his one sole task in life had to be to make it happen again, because of all the ruckus it had caused.
It was way more fun than getting his head stuck underneath the sofa anyway.
