Post by alsa on Sept 11, 2009 1:15:54 GMT 1
Idris Ifan Argall
thirty one, male,caitsexual bi; appears asexual, pureblood, professor/head of house
thirty one, male,
the factfile[/font]
Height: 5' 7”. He's short.
Build: Stocky and toned.
Wand: Holly and hippogriff feather, 7 inches. Does not cast dark arts spells easily and is a volatile, temperamental wand at best. He rarely uses it anyway; he's more of a hands on person.
Patronus:
Previously, Idris' Patronus was your garden variety rabbit. However, he hasn't been able to cast one since his first successful attempt back in his seventh year. His memory at the time was of moments he spent with Cait – having had a rather drab childhood, the only really strong memory of happiness was the eventual feelings he'd developed for the halfblood girl – and, as a result of her death and then reappearance as a ghost, all such memories have been tainted with the misery that followed. Unable to mourn her and move on, he can't really feel happy when thinking of her, and no other memories are joyful enough to use for a Patronus charm.
Boggart:
Butterflies. Ever since he was little, Idris has been deathly afraid of butterflies. He's never really understood why – is it how delicate they are, or just how weird it feels to have them fluttering over your skin? - but they freak him out quite badly. A Boggart would burst into a swarm of multicoloured butterflies, swarming around the room and in particular around Idris.
Dementor:
Christmas morning and all was quiet, save for in one corridor. Footsteps echoed along the passage, his own, so loud in the silent halls of the school. There was only one perk to being a Prefect and that was the baths they were allowed to use. No typical basins for the students responsible for keeping others in line; the baths, while unisex, were especially relaxing in the early hours of the morning when he couldn't sleep. Still, with the castle emptied of its usual mass of teenagers and the enjoyment of spending time with Cait just around the corner, he couldn't help but feel slightly excited. It was the first time he'd anticipated anything with even the most minute amount of hope since his father's death a few months prior, and he was determined to get through it without acting like a complete lovesick idiot. She'd just love to rip him for that for the rest of the year...
The door opened with the correct password – part of him amused and part of him irriated by the obvious and far too happy “mistletoe” - and Idris proceeded, surprised to find the floor slightly damp. Had some idiot left the freaking water running again? It wouldn't surprise him, he'd seen it happen many times before and despite the drains in the sides of the bath, it still managed to overflow often enough. He approached with caution, not really wanting to slip on the wet tiles and crack his head open, and oh Merlin, how he'd hate the irony of such thoughts later on. The bubbles had long since disappeared, leaving the sight quite visible to anyone who had come in. Someone was floating in the water, someone fully dressed and crap, he knew that hair-
There was really only one thing to do, and instinct had Idris dropping his towel, rushing down the steps into the bath and dragging the limp body up to the steps, struggling to push the unhelpful mass of flesh onto the side. The body was warm, but only from the heat of the water; no internal source, clammy to the touch and too pale, her clothes so heavy with water, how long had she been in there and as he turned her over, oh magical mother of Merlin, but he hadn't wanted to see that face and-
“It's about time someone turned up.”
A glance upwards, following the familiar voice, too good to be true and his heart dropped into his stomach, crashing somewhere deep within, shattering into a million tiny fragments. Cait looked pissed off rather than worried about her situation, floating not some three feet away in her grey top and pyjama bottoms, ghostly pallor now too appropriate a term. The Welshman took a moment to try and comprehend the situation, unable to process the concept that his friend (dare he finally say girlfriend? But it was too late now to really make a difference) was lying in his arms, dead to the world as she watched him with irritation across her grey features. Slowly, Idris moved on autopilot, somehow managing to force himself to let go of the body and pull himself out of the water. He didn't bother grabbing his towel, simply walking out of the doorway and back into the halls, taking the short trip to the Transfiguration office, just at the end of the corridor. It seemed like forever before the door was finally opened, revealing the unkempt professor. It was all Idris could do to utter the words, so toneless and without any apparent emotion because he simply couldn't find the energy to even cry. It was too soon, too soon after- And he continued muttering even after the professor dashed off, following the watery footsteps that lead to the body and the spirit, both separate, both...
“Dead. She's dead. She's... She drowned. She's...”
Amortentia: Jasmine; citrus; freshly cut grass.
Nicknames:
Generally speaking, he's not friendly enough to warrant nicknames but kind of scary enough to avoid the ones crueller students might give him. He has been known to be referred to as “the bloke who sleeps with the thestrals” when he's not within earshot, though.
Clothing Style:
A pureblood born and raised, Idris tends not to wear the latest in wizarding fashion but certainly the more durable, far more suitable for his work in the outdoors. He has been known to wear the muggle clothes known as jeans every now and then, although only if he's feeling particularly nostalgic and only at the prompting of a certain ghost and fellow professor. However, he's most often encountered in solid and sturdy attire with few frills, and is rarely seen without his dragonhide boots, dragonhide gloves often shoved in a pocket just in case. He's especially fond of earthy colours, especially mossy greens.
[/font][/ul][/size]the biography
Siblings: N/A. Idris is an only child.
Relatives: N/A. His family has always been rather small and has since all but died out. He's the last Argall standing, so to speak.
Other Important Figures: Cait Sayer; former girlfriend, current stalker; deceased. Abraham Grey; fellow professor and general nuisance; thirty.
Pets:
Idris takes care of all the non-student owned animals on the Hogwarts premises, so far as he's allowed, although technically this doesn't make them his pets. He does consider Tenebrus to be his thestral, in some respects, but the only real pet he has is Gary the Crup. Rather unimaginatively named, the little beast has a rather vicious take on the breed's natural dislike of Muggles and has a tendency to get particularly violent around Muggleborns. It's really rather a good thing he gets locked in Idris' office during lessons.
Pensieve:
Neither the Soper or Argall families were particularly wealthy or well known, but the fact that they remained pure in blood on both terms of wizarding blood and nationality were factors to be admired by the more traditional of the magical world. However, the desire to keep their family in such a way was beginning to get more difficult. As the purebloods of the wizarding world dwindled on the whole, the purebloods of Wales were in rather dire straits. So few families remained that were considered wholesome enough that the marriage of Carys and Andras was rather hastily put together, completely out of a desire to stay true to their heritage and keep the bloodline going. Only children both, it hurt the Sopers to allow their daughter to take another name, but at least the blood would carry on. They only hoped the family would spawn many children, unlike the unfortunate run of single children that had plagued both families for so long. Unfortunately, it appeared such luck wasn't with them and shortly after their marriage, Carys was the not so much proud as slightly terrified mother of one quiet little boy, Idris Ifan Argall (Idris after her own father, Ifan after Andras' father). The birth of their first son was too much for the young woman, though, and she was rendered barren, once more the disappointed mother of a single child. They almost felt it was a curse, although it appeared to simply be bad luck.
Despite this setback in the family's plans, Idris had a rather typical pureblood upbringing. His parents had little interest in his development beyond seeing him for meals, and that was often only at the insistence of his tutor (because boys shouldn't have nannies, according to Andras). His parents were both workaholics, his mother an under secretary in the Ministry and his father keeper of the estates and running a small, lesser known chain of pet shops. Idris never particularly minded; he would grow up thinking this was all perfectly normal, as you'd expect, and he still loved his parents dearly. They just weren't especially close. Being born at the time of Voldemort's rebirth, his parents were mildly scared of the rumours running around. Despite a dislike of Muggles and Muggleborns, neither of their families had ever been active participants with the Death Eaters and his parents had no intention of becoming such now. They remained rather passive throughout the events from 1994 to 1997, but were privately relieved when Harry Potter triumphed. Things were certainly easier without such extremists about to taint the good name of everyone else. In the winter of 1997, Carys went out for a broom ride to relax. She'd been part of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team whilst she was at school and since leaving had missed the relaxing qualities of flying, and after a stressful day at work, she needed nothing more. Unfortunately, she was overconfident in her ability to withstand the heavy winds raging outside and ended up being flung from her broom into the side of the house, dying instantly. Idris was too young to truly remember the event, too young to remember his father was sad but not really as upset as his tutor made the heroes in stories to be. Still, Idris himself was sad and still recalls the event faintly. Due to this, he grew up without a female influence in the larger part of his life, which probably goes a little to explaining his complete lack of ability with the opposite sex.
With only one source of income and not much to fall back on, Andras spent more time working and Idris was left with his tutor, learning about the basics of the wizarding world and about current events, about his family history and other important things to learn. While he found it quite fascinating, he was more interested in spending his time with the pets his father gave him, presents to make up for when he wasn't around; something becoming more and more frequent. By the time he was ten, Idris was the proud and decent owner of three cats, two Crups, a Kneazle, an aquarium of fish and a horse. With the assistance of his tutor in tasks he couldn't manage, he spent his childhood quite happily around the animals, rarely spending time with anyone his own age and indeed little time with anyone other than his tutor and father. When his letter to attend Hogwarts arrived, it was more an annoyance than an event, as it meant it would disrupt his time with his menagerie. What did they mean he could only take a cat, a rat, an owl or a toad? Picking the youngest, he was soon off to a reluctantly accepted education with people he didn't know and wasn't even sure he'd like. Due to his upbringing and his lack of knowledge (as well as peer expectations - yes, he may not like them but he was as subject to expectations as everyone else), Idris disliked the few Muggleborns he'd ever had the dubious pleasure of talking to, finding them ignorant. It wouldn't be until he met Caitlyn, someone he (eventually) managed to click with on some level, that he would even consider that maybe non-purebloods weren't all bad. He never ended up liking them, exactly, and to this day he's harsh on them, but he stopped hating them as much as some of his peers seemed to and ended up keeping his opinions to himself.
School was alright, he supposed. He was sorted into Slytherin, not really a surprise for what little of the family had survived up until that point – he wasn't as intelligent as his mother had been, but certainly had more common sense than she'd had – and he fell in with the usual sort. To be honest, though, he never had many friends. He was quiet, kept to himself just like he had for his childhood, and often spent time with the animals around the school when he could. The biggest event was probably being assigned a partner in a Potions lesson, a halfblood girl named Caitlyn Sayer. They almost instantly seemed to dislike each other; Cait was clumsy, talkative and a little insulting, whilst Idris was short-tempered, irritable and unintentionally offensive.
Cait introduced Idris to the concept of dossing, and Idris tried to assist her to be less clumsy. Neither worked particularly well. No one had really paid much attention to the unlikely pair as their friendship developed, at least partly to do with the fact that most of the time they spent together was away from prying eyes. It made it a bit of a shock when they were caught kissing in one of the fourth floor corridors by someone in Gryffindor during their sixth year and afterwards they sometimes got odd looks, but no one commented. Let the outcasts be freaks together. Neither had exactly been popular anyway. Idris spent the summer of his sixth year at his father's bedside. Andras had been getting progressively sicker as time passed, until eventually it was too much. The mediwizard diagnosed it as cancer back in Idris' third year, something that even magic had yet to find a cure for, and it had already spread too far for anything to really be done. It had only been a matter of time and in the middle of August 2010, Andras died, leaving Idris pretty much alone. The teenager spent the rest of the summer sorting out his family affairs, before returning to Hogwarts somewhat more sombre than even previously. Still, he had Cait and that was enough for now. His father's death made him think more seriously about how he felt for his friend – he'd never called her girlfriend, a little bit scared of the commitment he felt the word conjured up – and by Christmas he was seriously considering asking her to move in with him after Hogwarts. His house wasn't the largest, but it would be lonely all by himself. Of course, as he went for a bath on Christmas morning, he found Cait's body in the water, floating uselessly. He'd been so shocked by the sight he hadn't even been able to cry, and had gotten the teacher in a bit of a dazed manner. It was then the rumours began spreading. Despite an investigation that resulted in the announcement that Cait had slipped, knocked herself out and drowned (helped by the ghost herself), rumours still started. He was a Slytherin, after all. Slytherins were sneaky bastards. He'd been wanting to do that for years, kill her. Just because he could. Because she wasn't a pureblood, because she was a Hufflepuff, because she was just spending time with him out of pity – there were all kinds of reasons and Idris had to put up with it for the rest of the year, the whispers following him as persistently as Cait's ghost did. He never did shed a single tear for her that year, doing so in private long after he'd lef the school.
Somehow, he managed to deal with it (barely) and finished his exams, leaving the premises the moment he had the opportunity. He left for Germany, expanding upon his knowledge of magical creatures and how to care for them, how to deal with them, what properties their flesh, hair and blood had in potions and wands. The knowledge that Cait was still floating around in Hogwarts, though, wouldn't leave him alone. Hogwarts had been the only place he'd been comfortable, even if the memories were more than slightly tainted now, and he eventually found himself drifting back towards the school, taking up a teaching position in the role of Care of Magical Creatures professor. He had a rival for the role but, despite his lesser qualifications, he managed to get the job by underhanded means. He cursed the other candidate, so the other man ended up in St. Mungo's for several years trying to figure out how he'd ended up half Oak Tree, and Idris landed the job with ease and only a minute amount of suspicion. He's developed his style since then and grown to remember why he'd run away from Hogwarts in the first place, but otherwise he's content to be there. After a few years, he became the Head of Slytherin and has possibly been one of the stranger ones, helpful with more trivial matters but letting them get themselves out of any heavier shit they stumble into. Well, if they would be so easily misled and got themselves into trouble, then they'd have to deal with the consequences... Sometimes even he gets a little concerned about his behaviour towards other people, but he soon shoves it out of his mind. He did take to drinking when he came of age to do so, and he does still do it today, but he manages to keep it to weekends (usually). He has a hipflask just in case things get too much, though... The rumours still abound as persistently as Cait does, but it's kind of his life now. He brought it upon himself really, and he accepts that. Doesn't make him wonder if he hasn't lost the plot, though.
[/ul][/size] [/font]the inner workings
Dislikes: Quidditch, Muggles, Muggle sports, pretty much anything Muggle related other than coffee and jeans, heavy music, baths (showers are fine), being sober, Cait's ghost, pretty much anyone who tries to speak with him, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, rules, safety, hallucinations, warm tea, large bodies of water, yellow, flowers, roller skating, keyboards, pranks and practical jokes, Arithmancy, gossip, newspapers, romance, women, men, humans, taking sides, his house losing, being accused of hurting people intentionally, keeping track of his money, crowds.
Quirks and Habits: Drinks cold tea, bites his fingernails, taps his fingers when irritable, hurls abuse when irritable, is generally always irritable, frequently seen frowning, carries a hipflask on his person at all times.
Mirror of Erised:
Not that he'd ever admit it, but his dearest dream changes on a whim. Both versions, however, are to do with Cait. On his more hopeful, wistful days, he wishes there could be some way to go back in time without damaging everything and to rescue her, so that he could be with her properly. He doesn't even care if she'd have left him afterwards on those days, just so long as she was alive. However, on his darker days (especially around Christmas), he wishes simply that she'd stayed completely dead. As much as he loves her still, he hates her (in his opinion) selfish choice to become a ghost and haunt him, even though technically he could leave the school and she wouldn't be able to follow. Even the knowledge of her ghost existing would remain with him, though. It's a bittersweet situation, knowing he can talk to her at the same time as knowing the ghost is nothing but a shadow of her.
In Depth Personality:
Idris has never been the most friendly of people and indeed, upon first meeting the professor, one might be inclined to think he's a bit of a pillock. They'd probably be correct, too. Easily the most obvious thing about Idris is the fact he isn't so keen on social interaction. Despite being a teacher and living in the school during term time (and for a large part of the holidays, although he'll be damned before he admits it to anyone other than McGonagall, and only her because he has to ask permission), he has an intense dislike of spending too much time around other human beings. A slightly insular childhood and bad experiences whilst at school have left him with bitter feelings towards his fellow man, and as such he generally talks to them as little as he possibly can get away with. To be honest, he views most people as inferior, not due to blood intially (although he is blood prejudiced) but simply due to the fact that he will assume all people are ignorant idiots until they prove otherwise. This goes double for anyone under the age of twenty, who have hormones to increase just how moronic they can be. He'd rather be pleasantly surprised that someone has exceeded his expectations than to be disappointed as time progresses and a person proves themselves to be a bit of a prat. In all honesty, his foul temperament, a constant state of being for the teacher, probably puts most people off talking to him anyway. He practically radiates hostility and with no apparent manners, it's hard to hold a truly civil conversation with him.
Idris tends to come across as perfectly rude at times, and he's often ready to snarl at someone. He's never been the most witty or the quickest off the bat, but he has a temper to rival that of a volcano, and he's quite happy to swear like a trooper at whomever has sparked his ire, be it a fellow professor or a student, a parent or a stranger in the street. He really does have a bit of trouble controlling his temper, and as such he's just not bothered trying for a long while. When he is calm enough, he has a tendency to appear arrogant and even somewhat cold, any amusement seeming to be at the expense of others. He honestly does think that, regardless of skills, qualifications or anything of a similar nature, that he is better than most other people. There's no special reason, he just thinks that he surpasses them in some way. Maybe he's just a very confident person, and he does usually appear to be very sure of himself. Then again, it could simply be a way to further push people away, as he has no desire to try and get close to pretty much anyone. They just keep leaving anyway. Idris is prone to moments of depression and can be rather melancholy, but it certainly doesn't rule his life. He's never really liked people or most events anyway, so it's more an extension of his natural grumpy personality.
Idris is a neat freak. There's really no other way of putting it. Everything in his office and life has a place and if it's been moved out of it, he tends to get a little irate. He's been described as anal about such details, but he thinks that it's honestly just an efficient way to keep himself in order. He isn't fussed about getting dirty, as his job basically requires him to practically live in mud, but he doesn't leave things to mould up and run riot with fungus either. About the worst thing he'll do is stomp through the castle in muddy boots or leave a cup of tea for the evening in his office, in which case he'll leave someone to clean up his mess and probably drink the cup of tea. His lessons are always well planned in advance and he isn't really the adventurous sort in the sense that he won't spontaneously go down to the pub, mostly because he won't give in to any whims. He's very ambitious, however, and will do pretty much anything to get his own way. Hex a rival for the role of professor? He's been there, done that. Steal the Quidditch pitch so his team can train more often than the other houses? Definitely on his agenda. Kill someone, though? He probably wouldn't go that far. He's not really a physically violent person, although he is a physical person. He expresses himself best through actions, usually in the form of his work. He can be eloquent when he wants to be, and while he isn't the brightest spark in the hearth, he isn't stupid either. He knows when to quit, when to do what he wants and such, but frankly? He's a bit lazy and would rather have people assume he's an idiot who stumbles over his words, or a silent professor who only speaks to dole out homework or insult people, rather than muster up the effort to truly use his brain for discussion and such.
[/ul][/size] [/font] behind the mask [/font]
Experience: No idea.
Time Zone: GMT FTW.
How Did You Find Us?: I AM YOUR STALKER.
Play By: Joe Armstrong.
Sample: Old post is old. <3[/size][/ul][/font]
To be honest, the only reason Idris drank cold tea was because he knew it wound Cait up. Why, precisely, he'd never understand, as she didn't need to eat any more and so she probably couldn't remember what cold tea tasted like after all these years, but there you go. He waited for her to leave but it appeared she wasn't heeding his words, and he held back a huff of annoyance. She really didn't get it, did she? He put the cup back down on the table and set about trying to tidy up a little bit. He knew she'd probably mess it up again but it was worth giving it a go. He was already starting to get annoyed about the mess, and he could get really foul tempered when his quarters were like this.
He wanted to snark at her, he really did, but he kept himself from rising to the bait and fiddled with the papers instead. ”I can't say I'm entirely fond of them, either,” he replied absently, thinking on the little creatures and how they always ruined his order. Couldn't they just keep their noses out of it for once in their lives? They should be glad he wanted to tidy up after himself, less for them to do! Couldn't they just be like teenagers? It hadn't been that long since they'd gotten their rights, you'd think they'd enjoy them...
”No, it wouldn't make me feel better, in fact it's just that bit worse because I'm getting credit for something I didn't do,” he grumbled, not really meaning it but sometimes wondering if he would have killed her after all this time. If she hadn't become a ghost, would she have grown up? He could only hope so. Or maybe it was that he got worse, rather than her fault. Nothing he ought to be pondering right now, anyway. ”Don't worry, Cait, I'll find a way.”
He pulled out his drawer and dumped some papers in it before closing it, stopping to pull on the one locked drawer in his desk. No, she hadn't managed to open it. Good, he didn't want those bits getting out. That would be embarrassing. He'd written most of it the few weeks after his father's and Cait's deaths, mostly letters to them (though he didn't need to write letters to Cait, did he? But it hadn't been the same, it wasn't Cait, just a fragment left behind to taunt everyone that she was gone) about all sorts of things. He hadn't had the heart to chuck them out. The last thing he needed was for Cait to read the contents, though.”
He raised an eyebrow and couldn't stop the small smile that escaped his usually perfect control. He folded his arms and sat on the desk. ”And what was that question going to be?” he asked, knowing full well what she was going to say. It was obvious, anyway. He looked up for a moment, pretending to be thoughtful, before replying. ”Well, for starters I'd cast a silencing charm on you. How many years have you been talking non stop?”
He wanted to snark at her, he really did, but he kept himself from rising to the bait and fiddled with the papers instead. ”I can't say I'm entirely fond of them, either,” he replied absently, thinking on the little creatures and how they always ruined his order. Couldn't they just keep their noses out of it for once in their lives? They should be glad he wanted to tidy up after himself, less for them to do! Couldn't they just be like teenagers? It hadn't been that long since they'd gotten their rights, you'd think they'd enjoy them...
”No, it wouldn't make me feel better, in fact it's just that bit worse because I'm getting credit for something I didn't do,” he grumbled, not really meaning it but sometimes wondering if he would have killed her after all this time. If she hadn't become a ghost, would she have grown up? He could only hope so. Or maybe it was that he got worse, rather than her fault. Nothing he ought to be pondering right now, anyway. ”Don't worry, Cait, I'll find a way.”
He pulled out his drawer and dumped some papers in it before closing it, stopping to pull on the one locked drawer in his desk. No, she hadn't managed to open it. Good, he didn't want those bits getting out. That would be embarrassing. He'd written most of it the few weeks after his father's and Cait's deaths, mostly letters to them (though he didn't need to write letters to Cait, did he? But it hadn't been the same, it wasn't Cait, just a fragment left behind to taunt everyone that she was gone) about all sorts of things. He hadn't had the heart to chuck them out. The last thing he needed was for Cait to read the contents, though.”
He raised an eyebrow and couldn't stop the small smile that escaped his usually perfect control. He folded his arms and sat on the desk. ”And what was that question going to be?” he asked, knowing full well what she was going to say. It was obvious, anyway. He looked up for a moment, pretending to be thoughtful, before replying. ”Well, for starters I'd cast a silencing charm on you. How many years have you been talking non stop?”
