A. A. Mortimer

[Adam Quinn]

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About You - -

Name: Oreo
Gender: Vajayjay owner
Age: Fifteen, soon to be sixteen years
Years of RPG Experience: About 4 or 5 years
Other: [removed by staff]

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Quick Quiz - -

How did you find us? Ad on another site.
What about ISS inspired you to join? Everything!
Do you have any suggestions for us? Nope.

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About the Character- -

Name: Adam Arthur Mortimer. “Though I prefer to be called Heathcliff.”
Age: Seventeen years.
Gender: Male.
Year: Seventh.
Face Claim: Colin Morgan.

Canon or Original? Original, baby!

Facial Properties:
Adam, or Heath as he prefers to be known, isn’t exactly what you’d call the Prince Charming type when it comes to his physical appearance. It would be wrong to call Heath ugly, but he was not graced with the face of an angel, to put it frankly. He does not have the golden hair, warm complexion, and stone-cut face of your stereo-typical hero, but in fact looks more like your stereotypical villain. His skin is deathly pale, to the point that in certain lights it looks almost translucent. His hair is jet black, and his eyes are set deep into his brow, but are a piercing slate-blue which seem to glow with some kind of ethereal light when his emotions run high. Heath’s boniness does not help with his overall skeletal appearance, for the bones of his faces stick out painfully, causing his ashen skin to be stretched over his high cheek bones, thin pointed nose, triangular jaw-line, and blunted chin. In fairness, he is a gawky looking chap, what with his rather sticky-out ears, but he isn’t exactly unattractive. And although he may have the common looks of an antagonist, the emotions which shine through on his face remove any thought of the boy having a bad heart. Heath’s face is always bright and cheery with some kind of happy emotion, and the fact that his smile is so warm and his eyes twinkle so brightly with affection soften his otherwise sharp features.
Physique:
Like the rest of him, Heath has a rather awkward physique. He is in every respect small and angular. His frame is small, and his joints are very bony. He isn’t exactly what you’d call a bean-stalk, but he comes close; if he was only a couple of inches taller, he would be the classic gangly teenage boy. Heath is the epitome of skinny, though you couldn’t call him an anorexic. Heathcliff has no problem with food at all, because like most teenage boys, he loves it. He’s a classic for being down in the Great Hall before everyone else and shoveling as much cook breakfast into his mouth as he can handle. It’s not exactly what you’d call healthy for fear of choking and indigestion, and neither is it particularly attractive, but Heath feels the hunger pangs of a growing boy. Hunger pangs which are only heightened by the fact that his home life doesn’t offer much food besides tinned beans and toast. Sure, he doesn’t complain because such an act is not in his nature, but Heath always looks forward to getting back to Hogwarts for the food (among other things, of course), and he always tries to stock up on food to bring home to his siblings on his visits to Hogsmeade, and sometimes Diagon Alley. Heathcliff Mortimer is just a very skinny boy, and while this isn’t the most attractive look in the world, his wiry muscles aren’t the most unattractive things in the world.

Wand Type: 11 inches, rowan wood, dragon heartstring core.
Wand Expertise: Good at Transfiguration, hexes and healing charms.
Patronus: European Hare.
Boggart: Nazgûl.

Personality:
No one can fake happiness. One can try, but there is usually an aspect about them which gives away their lie, whether it be that the emotion doesn’t reach their eyes, or everything they do when ‘happy’ seems false. Some people can be very good at pretending to be happy, but even the best cannot replicate the emotion with complete accuracy. Heath Mortimer on the other hand doesn’t have to act like he’s cheery, because for a lot of the time, he is cheery. Heath is a naturally bright spirited person, who, upon first glance, always sees the best in things, the positives. While some may call him a bit naïve for doing so, such a judgment of his character would be very inaccurate, for although Heath likes to see the best in things, that doesn’t mean he always does. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves; Heath is an all round sweet person. In his heart of hearts, he is a loving and affectionate young man with a warmth towards others that shows very plainly in his face and actions. He likes to see people happy, in particular, those he feels affection for. He will do anything to make those around him feel jolly, and while he isn’t exactly desperate to please, he feels it his duty to keep the morale of those around him at a high. His methods of doing so though aren’t exactly in your face, for Heath isn’t the type to seek attention, and while Heath may make a big gesture of warmth from time to time, his usual approach is quite subtle and small, but with no less warmth and significance. He uses his light-heartedness to his advantage, and his good sense of humour helps with this aspect of his persona. While he himself isn’t very sarcastic in humour, he understands that particular type of humour. Heath’s own type of comedy, like a lot of his personality is more subtle. He tends to satirize in a gentle sort of way, and has a tendency to be a bit slap-stick, though usually this is unintentional; Heath’s expressive face and habit of being rather clumsy can be rather amusing to behold.

Another aspect of Heath’s personality which connects very well with his kind nature is the fierce loyalty he possesses. Despite his rather dodgy background, Heath is a person of principles, and while he isn’t the type of person who would go off to war because of his beliefs, he stands up for what he believes in. Arguments are things Heath dislikes to be involved in, but if someone should do what he feels is wrong, Heath will allow himself to be drawn into an argument if it is necessary and will defend those he cares for with all he has. Heath’s tactics in such situations aren’t usually physical, though, as even Heath knows his small frame wouldn’t come out well in a punch-up, so Heath uses words rather than fists to get his point across. While he isn’t exactly what you would call a hero, as he doesn’t physically look like a hero for a start, but Heath has a courageous heart and head filled with set morals. Heath is the type of person who will do anything for those he loves, unless of course the thing to be done goes against his morals. Even then, Heath may try to do it, or will perhaps try and show the friend who suggested it why he sees it as wrong. Though he may sound like a bit of a do-gooder, Heath doesn’t go out on parades, protesting for human rights because in some ways he’s more proactive than that. He tries to take a sensible approach, looking into the subject at hand and seeing how the situation can be improved realistically. Heath is a rather down-to-earth sort of person, who values realism over idealism.

As high-lighted on before, Heath isn’t really an in-your-face kind of person. He never feels a need to be the center of attention, and the thought of being a school icon like the Marauders doesn’t appeal to him at all. Popularity doesn’t interest him as such, more the thought of having friends who are loyal and kind. Heath isn’t a very prejudiced person however, and while he himself doesn’t seek the qualities of a celebrity, he can get on reasonably well with those who are, so long as they don’t stand for anything Heath disagrees with. Young Mr. Mortimer is simply a rather reserved person in the way that he doesn’t feel like he always has to contribute to a conversation, or do something shocking in order to gain some reaction from his peers. Heath would much rather prefer to be just enjoying himself, whether that be spending time with his friends, or reading books, or writing. One thing Heath likes to do is read, and while he isn’t what you’d call a genius, he knows his facts well enough. Reading to Heath is like a safety mechanism; whenever he is upset or bored, he resorts to reading, whether it be a newspaper or a full-length novel. His older siblings find this habit of his quite endearing, for whenever their mother would get in a row with a tenant or boyfriend or both, they could always count on finding their little brother tucked away somewhere, absorbed in the pages of a book; his younger siblings on the other hand found it quite frustrating and would often call their older brother a ‘boring book-worm’. Heath didn’t mind so much; he just carried on reading. In some ways, Heath can appear quite awkward, what with his already gawky figure, and his tendency to be rather quiet in certain situations, and this is true in some cases. Sometimes teenage self-doubt can cause Heath to trip over his words and look like a clumsy boy, but for a majority of the time, Heath gets his point across. In a way, he is a rather outspoken person, but in a quiet, reserved sort of way.

However, despite Heath’s naturally jolly nature, there is an edge to his happiness. Having lived the life he has hasn’t stopped him from being effected by what he’s been through. While Heath isn’t what you call bitter, he has a pretty good knowledge of the world and its negative aspects. Heath doesn’t really talk to people about how he possesses this knowledge of the world, but you can see it in him none the less. At times when he is upset or down-in-mouth, the weight of the world really shows on his shoulders, and the sadness he endures for what kind of a life he has been given shows most obviously. Though Heath rarely ever complains about the life he has, and doesn’t allow himself to feel self-pity, he can’t help but feel depressed, but in such times of depression, he doesn’t confide in others as to the reason of his depression if the reason is to do with his personal history; as much as Heath likes sympathizing with others, his proactive nature causes him to dislike others giving him sympathy, for in his eyes, such is no better than being pitied. And despite being an apparently easy going person, Heath does have a bit of a temper on him. With certain subjects, young Mortimer forgets his mellow temperament, changing instead to a snappy, fiery individual with his villainous looks coming into blossom very strongly. Heath isn’t a cruel person, but can be vicious when he wants to be, and his character can often cause him to hold grudges; like many boys, Heath really can be stubborn about things, and while this often appears as determination in him, sometimes it’s nothing but down-right stubbornness. He does tend to regret what he does or says when he flies into a rage, but that is only really when he snapped at people he likes or respects. So while Heath Mortimer isn’t all meek and mild, his meek usually outweighs his aggressive side.

Likes:
+ Transfiguration
+ History of Magic
+ Mythology
+ Reading
+ Writing
+ Laughing
+ Making others laugh
+ His brothers and sisters
+ The Rolling Stones
+ The Beatles
+ Debussy
+ Comic books
+ Being with his friends
+ Snow
+ Hogwarts
+ Hot Cross Buns
+ Chocolate Frogs
+ Poetry
+ Wuthering Heights
+ Libraries
+ Pizza
+ Care of Magical Creatures
+ Charms
Dislikes:
– Joan Mortimer
– Bristol
– Cleaning bathrooms
– Joan’s ‘men’
– Prejudice
– Seeing others being sad
– Being depressed
– Divination
– Gossip
– The tabloids
– Dishonesty
– Prostitution
– Alcohol
– Being called a mud-blood
– Rottweiler’s
– Zombie movies
– Alsatians

History:
Our story begins with a girl named Joan Irene Lennox. In her life so far, she had been born to James and Martha Lennox in Glasgow, Scotland. Her father had been a less than amicable man, bitter at his own failings, for while he worked in the shipyards of the city, his brother Edward worked as a doctor in Edinburgh. So, like any embittered person with the responsibilities of providing for a young family in a dangerous and exhausting job, James, or Jim as he was known, would drown his sorrows in the nearest whisky bottle he could find. His wife Martha was a feeble woman, who took the beatings with very little complaint, and was either too frightened or battered to protect her children, as Joan wasn’t her only child; there was Joan’s older sister, Phyllis, and her younger brother Henry. Joan however, having a strong will and personality seemed to pull through her father’s abuse and mother’s neglect reasonably well, and at the age of sixteen, she school and home for England, seeking a new life elsewhere. Joan was an intelligent enough girl, but having come from a poor background, and with the hindrance of a strong Glaswegian accent, work was hard to come by. She had no home, no income; everything looked hopeless, and Joan quickly found herself living on the streets, moving from town to town, city to city with every ride she could manage to fix. Her street smart, fiery temperament, and numbness to pain kept her alive, and it was only in the kindness of a stranger that Joan’s fortunes started to look up. It happened by chance when a man found her sheltering in the doorway of a tenement building in Bristol. It was pouring with rain outside, and the girl was shivering violently, and this man took pity on her. She was such a skinny little thing, but when he first addressed her, he soon found out that this book was not to be judged by its cover; upon asking whether she was alright, he was met with a curt reply of, “What do you think you fucking retard?” Such a retort didn’t put the man off however, and so he invited her inside and into his apartment for a cup of hot tea or soup. Joan was suspicious of course, but she knew how defend herself; besides, this man was at least fifty or sixty, he wouldn’t be able to pack much of a punch. But the man’s intentions were more or less pure, and Joan soon found out that his name was Bill Mortimer, and he was the owner of the tenement building. He offered for Joan to stay the night, which she followed him up on, and it wasn’t long before Joan saw an opportunity forming out of Bill’s kind gesture. Days passed, and Joan stayed on Bill’s sofa (he had offered for him to sleep on the sofa, and she on the bed, but she had refused), and soon became apparent to the keen eyed twenty year old that this man had some feelings other than friendship for her. They weren’t particularly passionate as of yet, and Bill was too principled to act on them, so it was Joan’s initiative to make the first move. And she did. After a whirl-wind ‘romance’, Joan and Bill were married, and while there were some raised eyebrows from Bill’s sister, Hannah, and her children Phil and Carol, about the age difference between the wedded couple, there was little argument. Bill seemed happy enough, and although Joan was rather brash, she seemed a good enough person. But Joan was good at deception. Within a year of their marriage however, tragedy struck, leaving the new Mrs. Mortimer a widow; Bill caught pneumonia one winter, and already having a weak chest, this particular illness finished him off. It was now that Joan’s true colours shone through, for while Bill’s sister, nephew and niece mourned his death, Joan now prepared for her new position as land-lady for Bill’s rented flats, which she had inherited upon his death. There was some protest from Hannah and her children, but having little income themselves, they could put up no real legal battle against Joan. Now Joan’s life really began, and with a roof over her head and a steady enough income, she could do what she liked.

And what Joan liked was men. And money, but it was only through men that Joan’s infamous life began. Despite Bill Mortimer being an affectionate and kind man, he was unable to satisfy his wife in certain departments. Their marriage had left Joan with little emotional satisfaction, so she sought to seek this satisfaction from the men who rented from her. Joan wasn’t the most stunning beauty in the world, but she was striking looking, with an attractiveness which was more severe than pretty. She had a couple of passionate, yet short lived affairs with some of the men who lived under the roof she provided, but it was only by her third that something came out of the relationship. And that something was a baby boy. Joan has thought of getting rid of it, but abortion being illegal at the time, and even she knew how dodgy backstreet abortions could be, she kept the kid, calling him Johnathon Joseph Mortimer. He was a beautiful little baby, with angelic blond hair, and gorgeous blue eyes, but Joan took little notice of her son’s good looks, rather in what he contributed to her lively hood. And it wasn’t the prospect of being a mother; it was money. Joan soon found out that the benefit system could play a wonderful part in one’s income, and child benefits paid very nicely. So she got pregnant, again, though barely a year after Johnathon, or Jack as she called him, was born. However, her second pregnancy never made it to full gestation; at two months, she miss-carried. But hope was not lost, and Joan was soon pregnant again, and within nine months, she had given birth to her first daughter, whom she named Rebecca Rachael; Becca, as she came to be known, was very different in looks from her blond brother, having jet black hair and green eyes. Joan was really starting to enjoy herself now, for the money was now rolling in, and she received all the pleasures she wanted from her male associates. She didn’t take much care of her young children, though just enough to keep them alive and reasonably comfortable. Her third child however rose a few questions among the neighborhood gossips. Everybody in and around the flats knew that Joan the landlady was nothing better than a whore, but at her children had been white; until Marilyn Margaret came along. The lower class, yet judgmental women of the neighbourhood had a field-day when the tan skinned, dark haired baby came home, and while Joan herself felt little prejudice against those with a different skin tone or culture, she did not defend her child against the racism she was sure to face. But if a mixed-race child wasn’t extreme enough for Mrs. Mortimer, her fourth child would prove to be her piece de resistance.

It all started with a mysterious man called Valentine. Valentine Hollis Mars, to be precise, but Joan knew him as Cupid. He was a strange yet wonderful man who everyone couldn’t help but love, and even though he was rather zany and selfish and rather full of himself, one couldn’t help but have a soft spot for the man. And some couldn’t help being attracted to him. Like Joan. She always puzzled over why such a marvelous man such as he (and he truly was marvelous in the way that he dress in bright colours, long, robe like garments, had an infectious habit of making one laugh, and had the most energy one could ever see in a real life person) would take lodgings in her grimy apartment building in a grimy neighborhood, for even Joan knew that the she had to offer weren’t exactly five star quality; but then again, such houses would usually attract no-questions-asked type of people, who were the type of people whom Joan liked to mix most with. But Cupid was so different, so wild, so inquisitive; he was like a breath of fresh air to Joan’s otherwise morbid life. He was one of the few men who could give her pleasure while not particularly minding the fact that she had children already. In fact, he loved her children, and Johnathon, or Jack, Becca, and Marilyn loved this almost cartoon-like man. For a few months, Valentine existed in the Mortimers’ lives, providing moments of happiness and amusement for all, but the day came when, like all the other men in Joan’s life, he left. And like the rest, he didn’t give much of a farewell. The children seemed to take it harder than Mrs. Mortimer, and it took her powerful slap for Jack before the trio would stop moaning and mourning the loss of their beloved Cupid in front of her. But Valentine hadn’t just left them heartbroken, for a gift that was half his lay hidden in plain sight, growing inside of Joan’s womb. It was a cold day in October, the fifth to be exact, when Adam Arthur Mortimer was born. He was a charming little baby, not nearly as attractive as his older siblings, but there was a character to him which bore the fruits of affection in the hearts of those who looked upon him. Well, most of them. He had dark hair just like his father, and bright blue eyes like his mother, but other than that, he was nothing out of the ordinary. Not to Joan anyway; she’d seen three of his like already. It was only later in his life that little Adam would discover what was special about him, his gift, for what he didn’t know, but what was already germinating within, was that he was a wizard. Just like his father.

For although anyone would have admitted that Valentine Mars was an extraordinary man, one would never have expected how extraordinary he truly was. Valentine was born the only son of Fitzgerald and Ophelia Mars, a pureblood couple living in a grand estate in Gloucestershire. They were a rather eccentric couple, enjoying the extremes and luxuries of life, and with a great love of lounging around. It was perhaps because of this laziness that they had their first child so later on into their marriage when Ophelia had turned forty-two, and Fitzgerald was forty-five. With their extravagant influence, Valentine grew up to be a wild, yet cultured boy who lived to be loved and adored by those around him. He had a wicked sense of humour, and while he didn’t do particularly well in his studies at Hogwarts, he was none the less sharp than any of his fellow Ravenclaws, for he had indeed been sorted into the house of Rowena Ravenclaw. Valentine graduated school with little ambition in taking up any profession or making a career, for his family’s exceeding wealth needed no replenishment, and the young Mr. Mars had inherited his parents’ sin of sloth. In the first few years of life as an adult, he moved through pureblood society, attending galas and balls and living the life of a true dandy. But as the years passed, the balls became tedious, and the socializing between the rather uninteresting and pompous pureblood class became monotonous. Valentine wanted something different, something completely different. He had had a rather uneventful life so far, and he felt it was about time to spice it up a bit. And what better way than to travel through the muggle world, live a muggle life, and in all sense of the word, be a muggle. Of course, many of his familiars protested at the idea, thinking it rather vulgar and disturbing, but Valentine paid no heed to their warnings and worries, and carried on regardless. At first he found it difficult to live without the ways of magic, for magic had only fed his lazy nature, but his perseverance endured, and he soon got the hang of performing everyday tasks manually. He would move from dig to dig, flat to flat, apartment to apartment, trying to study as much as he could of the world. And then he met Joan Mortimer. She was a strange woman, with a bizarre charm which stung you, but stung in the way which made you want more. And Valentine, or Cupid as she so charmingly called him, did want more, for about five months, until news of his parents’ deaths reached him, and his study of muggle-nature came to an end.

Now, his legacy was left in the Mortimer household through the creation of his son, Adam. Joan treated her second son much as she treated her other children (not very well) but Adam’s older sisters doted on him like little nurses. This irritated Jack at first, but he soon came to love his little brother, feeling a sort of moral duty in teaching the young babe the ways of being a Mortimer man. Barely a year after Adam’s birth, two more additions were added to the Mortimer family in the way of twins; Catherine Clementine and Daniel David. Though they were Becca and Marilyn’s new focus, Adam and Marilyn still remained very close as siblings, though Adam came to spend more time with his older brother now. Adam was an inquisitive little boy, like his father, and he soon came to learn of how to read and write through to help of one of his mother’s tenants, called a Mr. White. He was a rather grouchy man in his late sixties, but he found a tender spot in his heart for this little black haired, blue eyed boy who would always be watching the tenants with such intense curiosity in his fawn eyes that it was amusing to watch him. Adam rapidly came to love reading, and while the world around him proved to be insecure, what with his mother’s fleeting relationships with various men, and the affect this would have on his siblings, for Jack was a brooding boy, and Becca had a habit to be very forlorn at times, while Danny and Cathy were down-right annoying with the amount of mischief they got up to (Marilyn was just a quiet, patient soul who seemed to be able to withstand anything life threw at her without much quarrel), books were a security to his young and delicate mind. He felt like he could escape into world of chivalrous knights, brave heroes, beautiful damsels, and terrible monsters, and be satisfied with the adventures they offered rather than the disappointments life always seemed to thrust towards him. In this way, his bookworm nature made him different from the rest of his family, for none of them were so keen in reading as he was, though his sisters would read novels from time to time; in fact, it was by his sister Becca’s influence that he created his pseudonym, Heath, which was inspired by the character Heathcliff from Emily Bronte’s ‘Wuthering Heights’.

But it was not Adam’s, or Heath’s adoration of books that would differentiate him from the rest of his family, for Heath took after his father more than one would think. It first happened when Heath’s youngest brother, Sam, who was five years younger than Heath, was two years old. One of the neighbours of their tenement building had a pair of Rottweiler’s, and they were ugly, brutal dogs, who would snarl, bark, and throw themselves against their master’s front fence whenever somebody walked down the street adjacent. Nobody liked the dogs, especially the Mortimer children, with Jack even finding a wicked pleasure in throwing stones over the garden fence at the dogs. But one day, the dogs almost had their revenge. It was never exactly clear what happened, but somehow, the gate to the garden where the dogs resided had been left unsecure, and the vicious canines had soon discovered this just as little Sam Mortimer was playing marbles in the street. If it hadn’t been for Heath sitting on the front steps of their tenement building, reading a month old edition of Batman, Sam probably would have been torn to shreds, but luckily, his older brother was there to save him. As the dogs came tearing up the street, straight at little Sam, Heath flew out and in front of his youngest sibling, putting his hand out in a stop sign. To this day, he has never been sure what the thoughts were which ran through his mind at that moment, for it seemed ridiculous in retrospect that he could have had a hope in hell of stopping the dogs with such a pathetic hand gesture. But they did, stop. They stopped as soon as Heath’s hand stretched out to stop them, and they seemed transfixed by him, with a glazed over look in their dark eyes. There had been a moment of complete stillness, with the dogs staring dumbly at Heath’s hand while Heath and Sam stared in astonishment back at them. Then the massive pair turned around and walked calmly back into their master’s garden, uttering not a sound for the rest of the day. The dogs were eventually put down of course, for there were only so many complaints the authorities could ignore before they had to take action. For years afterwards, strange things seemed to happen around Heath, things which seemed unexplainable. The family kept it under wraps of course, half trying to ignore it, and half in fear of it. Heath himself started to feel like he was some kind of freak, and it was only when a wizened, silver-haired man visited the Mortimer tenement building shortly after Heath’s eleventh birthday that the black-haired, blue-eyed boy’s condition was explained.

It took a lot of convincing, for Joan was a notoriously stubborn woman, but Albus Dumbledore finally convinced Mrs. Mortimer that her son was a wizard. At first, this angered and frightened her, for she did not want her son to be like something out of a fairytale, somebody who was anything but normal. Dumbledore had to constantly assure her that it wasn’t like that, that there were others like her Adam, and that he could live a happy, relatively normal life. Joan was still ill-at-ease, and when the mention of Hogwarts came up, she was extremely unwilling to accept her son’s condition; she didn’t want to pay for some school for freaks. But her perception of Hogwarts very quickly changed when the old man told her there was no fee for Adam’s attendance, and that it was a boarding school in which he would inhabit for a majority of the year. To say this prospect was appealing to Joan would be an under-statement, for the thought of having one less mouth to feed around the house was like a gift from heaven. So, it was all set, and although young Heath was terrified at leaving his beloved siblings (and he did love his half-brothers and sisters very much) for months on end, he couldn’t help but feel the excitement of going to wizarding school. It really was like something out of one of his books. But the discovery of his magical talent formed a rift between him and his family, and while it didn’t take Becca, Marilyn, Cathy, Dan, and Sam that long to realize Heath was still their brother, and would always be the clumsy, loving individual, it was harder for Jack to accept. Jack had always been the more cynical of the Mortimer children, and certainly the most bitter. He was more set in his ways than his other siblings, and he couldn’t help but feel jealous that his younger brother had special powers. There was a long period of time where Jack refused to talk to Heath at all, and when he did finally start talking to him again, it was in a nasty, derogative sort of way, calling him ‘Merlin’ or the ‘magical wonder’. This upset Heath very much, but he bore his grief well, and his anticipation at heading off for Hogwarts acted as a kind of solace. At last, September the first came, and although there was some difficulty in finding Platform 9 3/4, Heath was steaming away to his future.

Six, almost seven years have passed since that day, and while Heath and Jack’s relationship has improved, the brothers are not nearly as close as they used to be. Heath adores Hogwarts though, and the thought of leaving it both distresses and frightens him. But he is a hopeful boy, and hope has always served him well. At least so far.

Sample Post: Check Caradoc Dearborn’s app!

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And Finally - -

I, OREO, have read the rules, understand clearly what my responsibilities are now that I am joining ISS, and will abide by these standards set by the staff.

[Professor Albus Dumbledore]

A C C E P T E D !