Alistair Wilson
Member
- Messages
- 14
- OOC First Name
- Aaron
- Sexual Orientation
- Bisexual
- Wand
- Curved 13 Inch Swishy Blackthorn Wand with Fwooper Feather Core
- Age
- 3/2022
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At first Alistair Wilson wondered if it was a karmic punishment that he'd now be attending Durmstrangs Academy, He'd sneered at the magical community that attended there and now he had joined them. It had been several years since his mother had been taken and killed by pureblood extremists and Alistair's hate for the prejudice school was etched into his entire being. He didn't remember all the details of the attack, just that his mother had given him and his dad a chance to escape. Now here he was around people he despised.
In the back of the carriage he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block the memory of the attack out. He'd only been seven, He'd heard footsteps charging up the metal steps of the fire escape, a scream muffled suddenly with the flash of a green light, his mother pushing him into his father's arms with tears streaming down her face. That was when the windows to the apartment had shattered, glass raining everywhere, cutting the three of them, leaving Alistair with a scar across his cheek. He'd started crying then, his mother kissing his forehead as the robed men stepped through the window frame, their feet crunching glass into the carpet. He had screamed and tried to fight his way out his father's arms but it was to late, they'd apperated out of the apartment. They'd later found out that the men had disarmed his mother before she could apparate and the only thing left was her broken body surrounded by the chared remains of furniture and shards of glass.
The carriage stopped and he reluctantly grabbed his belongings resigning himself to the fate his father had felt best. Of course he had fought. There was plenty of other schools in the world, perhaps he could have gone to Beauxbatons or even either of the Hogwarts he'd argued, but no. After his mother had died his father had turned into a cold and cruel man and there was no arguing with him.
Opening the carriage door, Alistair lightly traced the scar on his cheek, already knowing it would make him stand out from the others, and reached for his Blackthorn wand, just the feel of it there in his pocket reassured him. No one here would do him harm. He'd learn to fight back.
The tall cliffs that lead to the castle were to treacherous for a carriage and Alistair took a slow walk up towards the castle, following the winding path that had some steep drops. When he'd finally made it to the castle it seemed smaller and more depressing than even he'd thought. Spires rose out from the grey stone building and large windows were blacked out with grime and dirt leaving the inside to the imagination. Graffiti littered the walls adjacent to the stone steps and most notably the large dark wood doors stood open, a man standing just on the inside wearing the robes that would be needed in this harsh weather.
"Wilson?" He barked. Great, he thought, Already someone was angry at him. One hand on his luggage and one hand wrapped around his wand he took a step forward.
"That's me." He answered. The man frowned as Alistair spoke, and he opened the door wider as if reluctantly inviting him in.
"You're late. Don't let that be a regular occurance. You get one warning and one warning only here. Now follow me to your dorm." Except with his heavy accent the word dorm sounded like doom and Alistair felt that was exactly where he was headed as he stepped through the threshold into the dark.
Part One
<FONT font="Georgia">At first Alistair Wilson wondered if it was a karmic punishment that he'd now be attending Durmstrangs Academy, He'd sneered at the magical community that attended there and now he had joined them. It had been several years since his mother had been taken and killed by pureblood extremists and Alistair's hate for the prejudice school was etched into his entire being. He didn't remember all the details of the attack, just that his mother had given him and his dad a chance to escape. Now here he was around people he despised.
In the back of the carriage he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block the memory of the attack out. He'd only been seven, He'd heard footsteps charging up the metal steps of the fire escape, a scream muffled suddenly with the flash of a green light, his mother pushing him into his father's arms with tears streaming down her face. That was when the windows to the apartment had shattered, glass raining everywhere, cutting the three of them, leaving Alistair with a scar across his cheek. He'd started crying then, his mother kissing his forehead as the robed men stepped through the window frame, their feet crunching glass into the carpet. He had screamed and tried to fight his way out his father's arms but it was to late, they'd apperated out of the apartment. They'd later found out that the men had disarmed his mother before she could apparate and the only thing left was her broken body surrounded by the chared remains of furniture and shards of glass.
The carriage stopped and he reluctantly grabbed his belongings resigning himself to the fate his father had felt best. Of course he had fought. There was plenty of other schools in the world, perhaps he could have gone to Beauxbatons or even either of the Hogwarts he'd argued, but no. After his mother had died his father had turned into a cold and cruel man and there was no arguing with him.
Opening the carriage door, Alistair lightly traced the scar on his cheek, already knowing it would make him stand out from the others, and reached for his Blackthorn wand, just the feel of it there in his pocket reassured him. No one here would do him harm. He'd learn to fight back.
The tall cliffs that lead to the castle were to treacherous for a carriage and Alistair took a slow walk up towards the castle, following the winding path that had some steep drops. When he'd finally made it to the castle it seemed smaller and more depressing than even he'd thought. Spires rose out from the grey stone building and large windows were blacked out with grime and dirt leaving the inside to the imagination. Graffiti littered the walls adjacent to the stone steps and most notably the large dark wood doors stood open, a man standing just on the inside wearing the robes that would be needed in this harsh weather.
"Wilson?" He barked. Great, he thought, Already someone was angry at him. One hand on his luggage and one hand wrapped around his wand he took a step forward.
"That's me." He answered. The man frowned as Alistair spoke, and he opened the door wider as if reluctantly inviting him in.
"You're late. Don't let that be a regular occurance. You get one warning and one warning only here. Now follow me to your dorm." Except with his heavy accent the word dorm sounded like doom and Alistair felt that was exactly where he was headed as he stepped through the threshold into the dark.