Post by Deleted on Apr 25, 2014 14:23:45 GMT -5
ANGUS PERCIVAL MACDOUGAL
CANON OR ORIGINAL: Original, related to canon.
AGE: Thirty.
FACE CLAIM: Sebastian Stan
YEAR: 1992-present.
HOUSE: None.
OCCUPATION: Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute.
BLOOD TYPE: Half-Blood.
WAND TYPE: 12¾" long, made of yew with a dragon-heartstring core.
PETS: None.
ABILITIES: Occlumens. Dark Arts.
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LIKES:
Dark Arts.
Martial Magic.
History of Magic.
DISLIKES:
Weaklings.
Senseless killers.
Stupid people.
BIGGEST FEAR: Death.
PERSONALITY:
Professor Angus MacDougal possess a brilliant mind. In addition to his excellent aptitude for theoretical learning, he also posses an instinctual, intuitive intelligence that allows him to keenly analyze and thus deduce things and guess the thoughts of those around him, which goes hand in hand with his opportunistic nature. Being magically talented, idealistic, as well as ambitious to the point of ruthlessness. Combined with ice notable talent and passion for the Dark Arts, he is in truth a man of dubious allegiance or nefarious intent. While his loyalty is just his own, huh value bravery and loyalty in general, but when ever he shows these sides of himself, it is preferably in a self-serving manner.
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MOTHER: Rolanda Westenberg. (1964-1997)
FATHER: Hankorten Westenberg. (1962-1997)
SIBLINGS: None.
HISTORY:
(OOC: Safely stored in a desk drawer in the Headmaster office at the notorious institute, protected by a series of Concealment Charms, there is a book. The book's content deals with the recorded testimony concerning the life of sitting Headmaster of the famous magical institution. These spells will break the day when Professor MacDougal leave this realm and moves on to the next, as we all do sooner or later. When the fateful day comes, it will all be read below become public known. Until then, his crimes remains a secret. A simplified summary of his adventures will be found here, but it will not stand untouched. For Professor MacDogual would like to write down his new experiences as a way to reflect on them.)
Dear readers, if you find this unpublished autobiography, I have probably died. Perhaps long ago. It is the intent that will please me more than my story finds its place in the history books, so why would my death also leave you with this text. And since I chronicle my life in that way I do, let us start the story with a beginning every time: The Beginning.
I was born by another name. My legal guardian thought it wise to change it after I moved into their home, but I still remember my old one. Edwardus Westenberg. But that is all behind me now, so let me start from the beginning: I was born in a small house in Northen England in 1992. My parents had lived there for many, many years before I was born, and it was a good place to grow up. But every good thing has an end, and although I do not remember much of it, I eventually learned that the good times ended when I was about five years old. The great Albus Dumbledore had announced that the Dark Lord who we all know that Voldemort had returned to their full powers. Neither of my parents were as narrow minded as Cornelius Fudge, and the day he turned to the International Confederation of Wizards, my family decided it was better to listen to the older and wise, so we went into hiding rather quickly. I recall, albeit vaguely, that my parents were very worried all the time. When we went shopping in Diagon Alley, it was always hasty walks, as if we could not get home fast enough. Every evening, my mother would sit by the kitchen window with that pale, tense expression on her face, waiting for Dad to come home from work. Every time my dad came home, she always burst into tears of joy and dad would always say the same thing every night to reassure her: "They have not made their move yet,. As long as the Ministry is in denial, we are safe. "
After my parents felt that we would not be safe at home anymore, we moved into a remote farmhouse some distance from our old one. I do not remember why we went there in the first place, though my parents obviously saved me from the truth I was not ready to hear and too young to understand. The house was small on the outside but big inside, with a lot of extra bed space. After my parents felt that we would not be safe at home anymore, we moved into a remote farmhouse some distance from our old one. I do not remember why we went there in the first place, though my parents obviously saved me from the truth I was not ready to hear and too young to understand. The house was small on the outside but big inside, with a lot of extra beds. My parents talked a lot about unexpected guests who might had to borrow one of our guest-rooms, but never said why. Today it is of course obvious why. My parents had made themselves enemies of the Death Eaters by giving shelter to members of the Order of the Phoenix, and they planned to do it again. They were friendly, decent people and could not stand the thought that someone could die if they could prevent it. Harry Potter would defeated Voldemort anyway, so sometimes I wonder whether or not I would have lived a happy life with them if they had not decided in their well-intentioned temerity to play heroes. With all the resources of the Ministry of Magic at their disposal it did not take long for them to track us up after the war situation worsened. Those who think my parents fell heroic battle when they surrounded our house are sadly mistaken...
There was no fight, no battle, it was man-slaughter. In all three of us had come down in the basement where we had the vanishing cabinet, bloody traces of my parents dying bodies lay everywhere. It was pretty scary for such a little wimp like me, but I was luckily unharmed. My father had the made sure of that. They told me to hide in the closet and they would come by, but the moment I walked in, my father locked and sealed the door with his wand, and I ended up transported to Godric's Hallow, where several of my Dad's colleagues lived. I found them, and they helped me flee the country. By Port-Key, I traveled to South America, where I had a solitary aunt we had great contact with. She had friends in high places, as one of our world's leading experts on magical plants. My childhood was not an easy one. The void inside me took a long time to heal, and six years later I was still withdrawn and quiet boy who had nothing to look forward to. About two months before I was to start on the American wizarding school, I heard about Durmstrang Institute, located somewhere in Scandinavia. I begged to go there instead, and reluctantly, my aunt accepted the it, even though it was far away.
The reason I wanted to study at Durmstrang rather than any other wizarding institution is for the simple reason that I had lived in my loneliness and sorrow so long that having friends did not feel important anymore. I had little friends in my early years, truth be told. My aunt was never any ideal parent figure, and I never felt at home anywhere. Therefore, I developed a desire - a hope of being able to create something wonderful, be something wonderful. To befriend people was my last priority. I wanted to learn, I wanted to become strong, so I did. In came two Develop a latent desire for recognition and greatness, cynical feeling of society and was, like many before me, seduced by the Dark Arts. I must admit I was a rather academically strong student, Because I excelled in most classes and Quickly embraced the strength-obsessed and darkness-flavored school culture. As a Durmstrang student, I was taught that the Dark Arts in no way mark you as an evil human being. It was your choices defined who you, not your Abilities. I admit that in spite of my less than honest mindset, I have never been convinced of their tendency to Lead the wielder of dark magic down a dark path of moral deterioration. In fact, I saw them as nothing but a powerful and mysterious tool for strong-willed young Wizarda like myself to use two achieve their own ends. I greatly excelled in the Dark Arts and Martial Magic, which fellow of my students learned the hard way. I would often start challenging those who treated me with disrespect to a duel. These were often short ones, a I always have had a habit of making short work of those whom I am facing in magical confrontation. That is not to say I won every single one, but it is true that if someone dared to turn down my challenge, I took it as a sign of weakness and disrespect, granting me the right to go after them down and punish them for their insolence. Also, it happened that his opponents challenged me as well, but then had second thoughts, and they would always try to hide from me. And I always got them for their cowardice. I may have seemed voilent, but it was a manner of priciple. I had a habit of hexing people who treated me badly... This ended up turning into a habit of hexing innocent students for no other reason than because he could, but while I am not proud of it, I do not regret it. I saw it as target practice. This ended only in my last year at school. The excuse was that I had grown as a person, but it was more because I knew that if I did not change, my reputation would prevent me from getting a decent job afterwards. This past year I was seen less as a violent, overpowering bully with a taste for violent behavior and more like a clever, solitary young man who simply prefered his own company.
That evening as I sat my final exam, I visited our Headmistress and asked if I could apply as a teacher in the Dark Arts. Naturally, since I was the same age as the older students, I did not expect her to say yes. When she began to compliment my understanding and skill in the art, and, as expected, was about to deny me the job, I took it as an invitation to demonstrate the extent of my capabilities. It was easily done, and easier than I had thought. I gave her no time to defend herself before casting the incantation: The Imperius curse worked as planned, and within moments she was completely under my control. I must say I proved to be quite adept at it. She took no choice but to give me what I wanted and so I became the youngest teacher in the school's history. I remained on the school ground, had my own office, my own classroom and it took a little more than four years of faithful service to Durmstrang Instiute before the worst of the suspicions from the others professors wore off. Another seven before that stupid old hag began to resist my influence. She expressed the wish to retire, but of course I could not do anything but deny her her freedom. After all - if I lost control of her, the secret surrounding my employment will be revealed, and I can not think of a life-long stay in Nurmengard. So I - advised her to stick around for a while, until we had found her a suitable replacement. Well, I'd rather not bore you with all the lengthy details about how I had arranged the circumstances to achieve it, but after Professor Gorgovitch's untimely and very mysterious demise was I, as her appointed Deputy Headmaster, asked to take her place. I said yes, of course. I have spent the last three years as the school's top administrator. I must say I like the job very well, but when I heard about the situation in Britain and the Dark Lady was clear to me that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry may no longer be safe. I have decided to make a short trip to offer my assistance. It's the least I can do for a colleague in need. Also, it is no secret that while Hogwarts and my own school have enjoyed a great companionship throughout the centuries, they both serves as stronghold for ancient magic. If I were to learn a few of its secrets, I am sure Durmstrang Institute would benefit greatly from it. And who knows? If all goes as planned, even the number of students at my school may increase significantly....
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HEY MY NAME IS Phillyman HERE, AND TO DATE I PLAY NO OTHER CHARACTERS. I FOUND THE SITE THROUGH Rpg Directory.
TEMPLATE BY ELIZA @ SHADOWPLAY & RCR
