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General Information
Character Name:
Arthur Langley
Type of Character:
Adult
Age:
21
Date of Birth:
05 February 1900
Blood Status:
Halfblood
Residence:
Anywhere that fits (currently with his parents)
Family:
Freya Langley née Haugen (mother)
Edward Langley (father)
Nora Langley (sister, born 1905)
Occupation:
Personality & History
Personality:
A scatter-brained fool is what his mother has called him as of late. His mind always onto the next idea, Arthur has never been able to sit still for too long. As a child he was praised for his energy and passion, now there seems to be something missing. Burned by failure (most of which being his fault) and the lack of support after graduating from Hogwarts, (also his fault) Arthur's self-esteem has fallen to the deep end and his spark may have gone with it. However, give him something he's interested in, and you may just see the same glint of inspiration from his time as a young boy.
History:
Born as the first child of Freya and Edward, great care was taken to nurture Arthur to be a smart and inquisitive lad. There was often an ongoing joke that on each of his birthdays, his parents would gift him a book more complex than the last year's. "So you have something to work on until the next!" they would say. Many of these birthdays and other holidays were spent with his cousins as well, of the McCormick family. He was only child for a while, and thus got along with the rest of the McCormick children, most of all Cassian. They seemed to be birds of the same feather, always curious and dreaming of the future.
As a result, Arthur became a quick learner and an upcoming prodigy for his family, plagued by dreams of becoming known throughout the world as a legendary spell inventor, or maybe a master duelist, or perhaps the first to discover a new magical creature! The sky was the limit after all, wasn't it? It was no surprise then that upon enrolling in Hogwarts, Arthur was sorted into house Ravenclaw, home of the most astute and erudite. The red carpet had seemed to be rolled out just for him. And for a while, he strutted it perfectly, keeping on top of assignments, classes, extracurriculars, he was the pride of the Langley family.
At some point however, something changed. Some say it was the result of his boredom from easy classes, others say it was the result of a particularly nasty Quidditch accident he had gotten into. Or maybe the death of his aunt Kari had truly shook him to his core. Whatever it was, Arthur began to slip away from his studies and his family. The once ever-so studious child would skip classes and spend his time with other troublemakers of the school. Books would be borrowed and rarely returned to the library, and rumors began to spread that he was scamming younger students. His old friends slowly avoided him, and his relations with his family deteriorated, especially as his sister began to enroll at Hogwarts, his parents' attention shifting to her in light of Arthur's actions. Fine by him, he was smarter than them all anyway.
After a lackluster performance on his N.E.W.T.s, Arthur eventually squeaked out and graduated in the class of 1918, much to the relief (and secret disappointment in his results) of his parents. Although this was short-lived, as Arthur put it upon himself to strike out on his own after Hogwarts, convinced that he could make his own success with his wits and experience. This caused a rift to form between him and his family, with communication often becoming sparse if at all existent. Instead Arthur spent his time trying to do research to make his own spell. This however ended up with him quickly having no funds and failing at the prospect, leading to him working multiple different positions at shops to scrape together more funds. Then an attempt at a business venture. Back to scrounging for money. Then an attempt to become a Quidditch athlete. Back to scrounging. With each endeavor failed, Arthur began to lose more and more of himself, and resorted to more and more desperate ideas to find success.
It was while he was part of a failing traveling muggle band did he eventually get word that his aunt was actually alive. This sent Arthur into another spiral, now with him working to gather enough money to head back home and see his family again for the first time in a long time. Unbeknownst to him, word had traveled about his failed ideas and escapades, and with him arriving at his parents' doorstep wearing a grimy set of clothes and no money to his name, he was quickly brought inside with a mixture of exasperation and relief.
Now, Arthur has spent time with his family for the longest while that he can remember. In a desperate ploy to help him back into some semblance of stability, his mother has reached out to Julian McCormick to attempt to provide a Ministry job for Arthur. The warning here is clear - if Arthur can't get his act together, there may be no more second chances available to him.
No pressure.
Prompt Response:
You are being accused of stealing on the way out of a shop of your choice in Diagon Alley.
How much for a bloody ink and quill?!
Arthur stood, gobsmacked, as he stared at the pricing for a set of a quill and ink pot. Looking around to see if anyone else was as shocked as him, he was met with blank indifference from other shoppers. Not that they could hear his thoughts of course, but surely this is mind-boggling to more than just he?
And yet, everyone continued on with their shopping.
Must be nice not having to worry about how much left you have in your purse. Arthur mentally grumbled, returning to glare at the admittedly nicely crafted set. Such is the price of entrepreneurship I suppose.
Another glance around, this time with just his eyes, Arthur waited until the shopkeep at the front had his back turned before lithely swiping the quill and palming the sealed ink pot. The former went up his sleeve and the latter was quickly deposited into his pocket, his oversized trousers thankfully having the benefit of deeper storage. With a theatrical scratch of his head, Arthur began leisurely walking to the door.
Well, that's one from the list crossed off. Now for the matter of scroll-
"Oi! You! Long-trousers!"
Arthur's heart leapt to his throat, his gait faltering for the smallest of seconds, before he continued forward through the aisle as shoppers' eyes began glancing in his direction.
If I just act oblivious-
"I'm talking to you! Quill thief!" This time, the gruff voice was right behind him. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, forcing Arthur to turn around, his eyes meeting a stocky inventory keeper that he had missed on his initial survey of the store. Perhaps because he was wearing the same attire as anyone else, with an unpolished name tag concealing the fact he worked for the store. The man glared right at him, crossing his arms. "Don't even try to deny it. I saw you mine own eyes. Give them back and I'll let you leave here without a clout on the head."
Arthur widened his eyes, painfully aware of everyone staring now. He stealthily gulped to hopefully conceal how dry his mouth had instantly become.
"M-me? Sir, I was near the inks and quills I will admit but I would never abscond with your wares without payment. I assure, it is below my stature!" Arthur waffled, keeping the employee confused and the drama-hungry crowd entranced as he waved his arms and played up his accent. Once he got a small look of hesitation from the man, he knew had his chance.
"In fact, when I first entered your establishment, I was right over there-" Arthur pointed to the other end of the store, causing not only the inventory keeper to look over his shoulder but most of the crowd to glance over as well. Jackpot.
He immediately turned and dashed, in the matter of a second reaching the front door and shoving it open, causing the entry bell to chime as he did so.
"Fumos." He muttered under his breath, his wand now in his hand, pointed behind him as he sprinted into the alley. He slowed down as he reached a crowd of people to blend into, hearing numerous shouts and commotion from the store he had just ran from. He continued his course, escaping into the afternoon.
Not how I thought the beginning of my newsletter venture would begin, but one must always take some risks in this business. Arthur thought resolutely, not noticing the ink trail he was leaving on the ground, sourced directly from his pocket.
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