THEODORE tanner TONKS.

[teddy]

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{ A B O U T . Y O U }

Name: Fief.
Gender: Femme fatale.
Age: Seventeen.
E-mail: [e-mail]
Twitter: LancasterRose.
Years of RPG Experience: Five.
Other: Well, Teddy. XD

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{ Q U I C K . Q U I Z }

How did you find us? An amazingful webring to which I owe my life. (:
What about ISS inspired you to join? The people, the caliber of writing, and the overall atmosphere.
Do you have any suggestions for us? None whatsoever.

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{ A B O U T . T H E . C H A R A C T E R }

Name: Theodore Tanner Tonks.
Age: Seventeen.
Gender: Male.
Year: Seventh.
Face Claim: Orlando Bloom.

Canon or Original? Canon.

Facial Properties:

E Y E S

Of all the things on Ted’s face, the most prominent feature are his eyes. They seem to catch you, to draw you in, to sparkle in the dimming sunlight and glisten in the early morning fog. When triumphant, they are glittering orbs of joy and when they are defeated they are glassy spheres of blankness. The thing with Ted is that he just can’t hide anything from anyone because of his eyes. They’re too open, too clear, to beautiful, really, to be able to hide any emotion ravaging his body. Wide and circular, fringed with a healthy amount of black lashes, they attract the onlooker like no other pair of eyes. Partly because they’re so huge, partly because they’re so beautiful, but also partly because they inspire confidence. When you look at Ted, really look at him, look into his eyes, it’s absolutely impossible to not want to divulge your entire life story to him. Because he’s that kind of guy. He’s a listener not a talker. He’s a counselor. He’s an honest boy. He’s just... someone you can trust without fail. And when you’re around him you relax, your muscles loose their tension, and as you slide next to him you feel your worries and cares fade away into oblivion as a result of Ted’s unyielding aura of wholeness and content. He’s just an easy guy to be around and this is ultimately reflected in the gentleness of his bright gray-blue eyes.

H A I R

This is a point on which he and his mother disagree. Ted has always been fond of the rugged intellectual look, complete with stubble and a ponytail, while his mother prefers him to have short hair and be clean shaven. Now, Ted’s utter lack of desire to shave and/or cut his hair perhaps stems from the fact that he’s rather laid back and as a byproduct of this is slightly lazy. Err, maybe not lazy. That could be too strong of a word. Ted, he’s... just very... natural, we’ll say. He’s very into the natural beauty of things and doesn’t like trying to make himself look anything other than what he is. He feels he’s more of a Ted when he has long hair, so he grows out his hair and lets a little sexy stubble prick through his chin. And who can blame him? Stubbly and long hair is in, right? Well, not for his mother, it isn’t. To her it was bad enough when he would refuse to accompany to the barber shop, but after he hit puberty she had to practically force him to use a razor. She always liked him to look clean and smooth and handsome, though in so doing made him feel extremely effeminate and self-conscious. Which is why he’s always hesitant to go home for the holidays, as she always unearths the barber shop specials and takes him drags him there against his will to cut off his luscious and thick golden blond locks and to remove the manly stubble from his chin and upper lip. He always hates returning to school after these incidents, feeling almost like he was castrated, so unmanly he felt without his stubble and ponytail.

B O N E S T R U C T U R E

Ted, ever fortunate, inherited his mother’s excellent bone structure. With his supremely crafted cheekbones and thick, cleft chin, he can be considered quite the poster child for the zenith of bone structure. However, Ted is generally a very modest boy and prefers to keep quiet his pride in his bone structure. When he was little, his mother would flash him around to her family and show off his wonderful face, praising him to no end and to such an extent that he seemed to be permanently blushing for the first seven years of his life. All Ted’s relatives crooned over him and worship him and fawn all over him he would stand his ground and politely assure them that no, ‘he wasn’t the cutest little button ever’ and no, ‘he wasn’t a perfect little angel.’ Oh, sweet God. Things like that made him gag. He hated being praised endlessly for things he couldn’t control. Why praise him for his supposed beauty when they could praise him for his intelligence, for his kindness? Or at least for something more meaningful than his flipping bone structure! Really, it was all quite ridiculous.

Physique:

A T H L E T I C B U I L D

Living in the city of London requires two things: agility and alertness. You’ve got to be agile and strong to be able to wend your way through the streets, dodge traffic, and have the physical stamina to walk everywhere and you’ve got to be alert and aware when you do it lest you get hit by a bus or run over by a hustling businessman. And those things have nearly happened to Ted before, so it can be said that he learned these things the hard way. He’s deft, he’s quick, he’s athletic... these are all traits that accompany a well proportioned body and some muscle to back it up. Standing at 6'4'', Ted is laced thickly with muscles all up his arms and down his legs, with some curving around his torso and climbing his chest to carve out his six-pack. Ted’s a strong boy, it’s true, and he is rather proud of it, as he actually worked to get his body in the shape in which it is currently. He adores exercising and playing Muggle sports, especially things like casual football or basketball or even baseball though he’s not so great at it. However, since he entered the wizarding world, the object of his athletic speculation has been solely devoted to Quidditch. He absolutely adores the sport and ever since he was introduced to it he could hardly put away his broom. He finds that it’s an extremely good way to stay in shape, a positive motivator for staying healthy, and a great exercise in balance. Wouldn’t want to fall off, now, would you?

S K I N

Having been raised in the city of London and having learned to pretty much walk everywhere, Ted has a natural tan that sort of never fades, not even in winter. He considers himself lucky for this, though, as many struggle with pale, even pasty skin during the winter and he doesn’t even have to try. But the fact that he was constantly out in the sun in the city contributed to the hue of his skin, often making it incredibly dark in the summer. His mother often fretted over this fact, thinking he would obtain some kind of skin cancer from heavy exposure to the sun. But Ted, being his laid-back self, never really found any weight to these claims of his mother; however, in order to calm her down a bit, he vowed to wear sun tan lotion or sun block when going on walks in the summer. He would lather it on, and when he was younger she would do it for him, and then was able to go out and play with his friends for a while without getting darker. However, when his mother was the one administering the cream, she would give him such a generous supply that it would soak through his clothes and make him feel entirely awkward on so many levels. Thankfully, she kept her sun block frenzy to herself as soon as he hit puberty at twelve.

T A L L

As aforementioned, Ted stands at about 6’4’‘, which is generally a towering status in comparison to other boys his age. He had always been a big boy, though, even when he was born. He’d weighed more and measured more than any other newborn in the hospital, and boy did his mother know it. Through those seventeen hours of labor she sure did get acquainted with his largesse. But that aside, he’d pretty much started growing and never stopped until he reached about sixteen, where his growth spurt momentarily sputtered to a stop. However, he is expected, according to his physician, to grow approximately four more inches before his body’s through with him. Ted doesn’t really mind, though, since being tall is all he’s known all his life and it doesn’t matter either way whether or not he grows. This apathetic attitude, however, was not pleasing to his mother, who proceeded to throw a conniption after leaving the physician’s office, insisting that perhaps her son had a growth defect like Abraham Lincoln or that his pituitary gland was malfunctioning or he would end up a giant like on those horrible reality television shows. But Ted, ever-pacifying, reassured his mother that his height wasn’t something to be concerned about, and that he was just a tall guy, which, in fact, he didn’t necessarily mind. Hey, it helped him beat all his buddies at basketball, didn’t it? So what was there to complain or worry about? Nothing. Not in Ted’s mind, anyway.

Wand Type:

When Theodore Tanner Tonks stepped into Ollivander’s for the first time with his utterly befuddled Muggle parents, he had no idea what to expect. There were wands. Real wands. Not like the ones in fairy tales. And, not only that, he could use these wands. For magic. For real magic. At first it was so utterly overwhelming that the little eleven year old boy found it hard to breathe and stand let alone actually choose one of these wands for himself, and when he did... oh, boy, did he ever. He’d stood in the shop for a few minutes, staring at the wands, unable to find one that supposedly would magnetically attract him, feeling all the while that he was an utter failure and perhaps Dumbledore had been wrong about saying he was a wizard. What if he couldn’t pick out a wand, what if he couldn’t find one? Because here he was and the clock was ticking away and a wand – the wand – wasn’t in his hands yet. So, what was wrong with him? Something had to be wrong with him because this wasn’t working like it should, like Mr. Ollivander had said it would work. And even he, the ancient wizard with the sparkling eyes, even he couldn’t seem to figure out why it was taking this strange little Muggleborn boy to pick out his wand. Ted’s parents were even starting to get a little fidgety and were beginning to believe that this whole thing was some hoax and they were being filmed on a reality television show. That in a few minutes someone would hop out and say SURPRISE this was all a joke! Wouldn’t that be awful? Sweat beaded at Ted’s forehead as he hastily scoured the room, trying to prove his parents wrong, trying to hold on to the belief that this was real. But he felt that his inability to find a wand was reflective on his lack of magical ability. Maybe, just maybe, the head honchos who knew who was magical and who was not got his case wrong. Maybe he was fated to live his life with but a taste of the magical world and never be able to fully experience it. That would be awful, wouldn’t it? To have seen something so wonderful and be told that your seeing it was a mistake and to go home and have a nice day? Oh, sweet mother of God. That would be terrible. But Ted? He wasn’t willing to accept that. No, Theodore Tanner Tonks was here to be a wizard and he was here to stay. All he needed was a wand. A simple wand. He stared around the room, blinked several times, and walked over to the last corner he’d not covered. And then? What happened after that had been truly magical. He felt a dull throb well inside the pit of his stomach and rise to his heart, wrapping its fingers around it and stilling its beating. His vision almost blurred, the muscles in his arms tensed, and his fingers curled into his palm as he stared at it. The light brown wand in the corner of the room, covered in dust, obviously about to be put away. As Ted looked at it, as he let his eyes visually caress it, he just knew. He knew that wand was his. Mr. Ollivander, noticing this sudden change in the boy, bustled over to the wand, blew off the dust, and placed it in Ted’s outstretched hands. As the wood met the flesh, an electric shock traveled through his veins, causing him to almost jump back with fright. However, there was something thrilling about that shock, something totally and completely right about it that he held on, wrapping his fingers around the bottom handle and letting it become one with his arm as he swished it around, following Ollivander’s instructions. Much to his delight, a tiny blade of grass sprouted from the tip as he did so, causing both his mother and father to grin with mixed pride, delight, and tentative fear. According to Ollivander, the wand was of rowan wood, which symbolized protection, expression, and connection; perhaps it picked him because he had these qualities. It was also twelve and and a half inches long and carried the core of gryphon feather which of course represented strength and perseverance. Ultimately, Ted was utterly thrilled with the outcome of his wand, and went on happily to complete the rest of his shopping.

Wand Expertise:

After promptly leaving Ollivander’s shop, Ted had a spring in his step and a renewed confidence. Here he was, a wizard to be, with his parents on each arm and a wand – a real wand – in his hand. It was all so amazing and so incredible that he really didn’t know what to do, how to cope with his jubilance, how to breathe anymore. It was all so exciting. How could he sleep, how could he eat, how could he go back home after all of this? This was incredible and amazing and ridiculous and... God, was this really his life? Was he really this lucky? Was he really traversing the cobblestone streets of a wizarding village with a wand in his hand and a cauldron in his dad’s? This was insane, truly. But... Ted decided that if it was a dream he would never want to wake up. Ever. Because this was the stuff of his dreams: magic, fairy tales, beasts, bubbling cauldrons, enchanting wands... and to have it all be real, be tangible... well, who would want to wake up from a dream where all their fantasies came true? That was Ted’s philosophy, anyway. So, he let himself feel like he was walking on water. And who knows? Maybe he would learn how to walk on water in school! Excitement bubbling in his stomach and hastening his pace, Ted wondered what kind of spells he’d learn at this new and foreign school of his, wondered how he could wait so long as three weeks to learn. But wait he did, and when he disembarked from that bright red train and was ushered to the Sorting Ceremony, he couldn’t have been more excited. He was literally so jittery that he couldn’t eat afterwards, his spoon was shaking so much that the food kept sliding off. He couldn’t wait to go to his House’s Common Room and cavort with all his fellow classmates, couldn’t wait to start classes the next day and learn about anything and everything, he couldn’t wait to just... start it all. To get the ball rolling and get his feet wet in what had taken over his life: magic. Magic, magic, magic. And when he’d finished cavorting and rough housing with the boys in his dormitory, Ted could hardly sleep. He stared at the top of his bunk for the entire night, unable to let himself drift off into unconsciousness, half afraid it would all fade away when he awoke. But, eventually, sleep overtook him and when he awoke? Everything was still there. He’d hopped out of bed, dressed in his robes so hurriedly that he almost put them on backwards and inside out, tied his shaggy hair into a tail at the nape of his neck and made it to his House’s table almost before everyone else. He ate a speedy breakfast and was the first one in attendance to all his classes, where he engaged the teachers in awkward conversations about how excited he was and how he hoped he would measure up to their expectations. And soon, he realized his strengths and weaknesses in each class as the weeks wore on: he was particularly skilled at Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts though he did rather poorly at potions. While he did enjoy Professor Slughorn’s company he saw Professor McGonagall as more of a role model to him.

Patronus:

When he was in his fifth year, Ted was finally introduced to the concept of the patronus, its uses and its characteristics. He found this all utterly fascinating and took copious notes on the subject, enthralled with it, wanting to increase his chances of being able to produce it when the time came around. And when that time came, Ted threw himself into his studies, becoming utterly obsessed with producing a patronus better than the rest of his classmates’. He would stay up late at night reviewing his notes, practicing in his dormitory, much to the dismay of his companions. The most he could evince from his wand was a tiny, almost involuntary spark of grayish blue smoke that would flit about the room and then get sucked back into the tip of his rowan wand. This would always both frustrate and encourage him, as he found that while he was still at the top of his class in regard to producing even the precursor to a patronus, he was incensed by the idea that he could repeatedly only get so far. So he tried and tried and tried, everywhere he tried, from the Great Hall during every meal to every break between classes in the courtyard to every actual Defense Against the Darks Arts class... he was obsessed with being the first one to nail his patronus. However, he was beaten. Beaten by an intelligent Ravenclaw girl who was able to produce hers the second week after its introduction in class. Spurred by the rancid aftertaste of defeat, Ted dedicated himself to becoming at least the second one to perform the patronus for Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore, as it were, noted Ted’s perseverance fondly though oftentimes told him that in order to produce a patronus he would have to work on relaxation of his muscles and brain. So, Ted tried that, though he found it extremely difficult to completely relax himself. However, he made strides toward improvement day by day, until finally he’d reached his goal and became the second student to produce a patronus, which was a wild boar. This signified, according to Dumbledore, Ted’s strength and perseverance, and thus was a befitting patronus to have. Ted, satisfied with this result, finally was able to get his social life back, much to the appreciation of his friends.

Boggart:

About a week after having learned to conjure a patronus, Ted and his classmates in Defense Against the Dark Arts class were introduced to the Boggart; the shapeless void of fear that lay hidden away in the darkness and would take shape to what you feared the most when it caught your eye. This, of course, had spooked most of the students who in turn had actually feigned illness in order to escape class that day. Ted was among the few that remained. He watched as his fellow students bravely confronted the beast and were exposed to their greatest fear: the Ravenclaw girl who had beat him at the patronus was afraid of disease, for instance, and several of the other students were afraid of more trivial things like bugs or death. But, when it came to him, Ted felt himself a little nervous as to what the Boggart would morph into. In a strange sense, Ted was almost excited to know what his worst fear was, excited to see if it was something better or more meaningful or more deep than his classmates’. As he walked over to the center of the room, he steeled himself and his excitement, blinked a few times, then hesitantly nodded for Professor Dumbledore to open the Boggart-inhabited chest. In the split second before the Boggart appeared, Ted could remember a faint tingling race up his spine and turn his heart to ice. His knees shook, his palms sweat, and he was suddenly sorry he hadn’t pretended to have the flu or something in order to escape this ordeal. His dark brows knitted and he paled, his palms clenched, and then... and then he saw his Boggart. It was a girl. A lovely, young girl with dark hair and an angular face. She was sitting on the floor flipping through a book with no words. A book with no words? Seriously? That was his Boggart? Shuffling his feet in humiliation as the rest of the class erupted into a tizzy of giggles behind him, Ted turned away from the Boggart in favor of sulking in the back of class. Later that day, Dumbledore caught him walking the halls and explained to him that he was not afraid of little girls but rather of ignorance and the negligence of knowledge. Ted got to thinking about this, and later that night as he was sitting in his dormitory he realized the gravity of what Dumbledore had told him. He was afraid of ignorance. He was afraid of the power the ignorant held over the world, afraid that somehow, someday, the ignorant would reign over the intelligent and the world would fall into shambles as a result of their poor leadership. He did not fear ignorance in the sense of lacking knowledge, rather he feared it in power. Feared that the trivial ways of thinking would overrun logic and that ignorance in the sense of apathy or of failure to acknowledge failure would eventually gain such sway with the public that they overtook the public, became the majority, and decimated the art of intelligence. Because if that happened? The world would be destroyed by ignorance. And that is Ted’s worst fear.

Personality:

P H I L O S O P H I C A L

Ever since he was young, Ted was introduced to the world of philosophy via his immensely intelligent father, a historian and philosophy professor at the local college. His father, William Tonks, was extremely adamant about educating his child and went completely overboard in Ted’s youth, trying to not-so-gently persuade him to join the ranks of the ‘dying intellectual movement.’ Ted, or, as his father addressed him, Theodore, wanting to please his father (as what little boy doesn’t?) devoted himself to study and to reading when he was at the ripe age of seven, focusing primarily on Greek and Western thought and having his father explain it all to him. He would read a cutting from something, say, Plato’s Republic, his favorite, and, as was to be expected, he wouldn’t understand a darned thing it said and his father would explain it to him if and only if decided his son had actually put forth the effort to understand it himself. Which he did, most of the time anyway, as he enjoyed philosophy and the Greek culture and really couldn’t get enough of it. When he’d reached the age of ten he’d begun reading The Odyssey which, his father assured him, was a book with an immensely high caliber yet was written in an easy-to-understand way. And, as it turned out, his father’s words rung true. Not only could Ted read the book without having to appeal to his father for assistance or guidance down the right path of interpretation, he could actually understand it and from it draw his very own conclusions. And, after this revolutionary thing occurred, Ted no longer needed his father’s help for anything anymore, no – rather, the two would engage in in-depth discussions about what they read and would often banter about the theme of the work, its philosophical message, and other such ‘intelligent’ things. Ted, feeling this was the best way to please his father, began to read voraciously anything he saw relating to history or to philosophy, and, soon enough, he’d read just about everything from Plato’s Republic to Hitler’s Mein Kampf. He took everything with a grain of salt and always did preliminary research on the time period behind what he read so as to obtain a non-biased frame of reference. He would take notes inside the text and through this action rendered most of his books nearly impossible to read the margin was so heavily laden with black ink.

D E D I C A T E D

Whenever Ted wants to do something he very well tries his damned hardest to do it. No half-assed attempts here, no, Ted puts forth his all and he puts it forth right away. He’s extremely obsessed with doing his absolute best and never settles for anything less. When an assignment is given with the expectation of a two scroll minimum, Ted always turns in three. Not that he’s that much of an overachiever but he does stand out against the rest of his class in that he’s prompt, dedicated, and thinks outside the box on usually all of his scrolls. He’s not one to procrastinate; in fact, that’s one of his pet peeves. He gets his assignments done on time and he gets them done well, no ifs ands or buts about it. Ted isn’t meticulous, per se, but for God’s sake he doesn’t procrastinate. This is perhaps due in part to his father’s militant attitude toward reading, having been enforced since Ted’s youth. Jane had tried to soften her husband’s strict outlook on education though to little avail, as Bill Tonks was a firm believer in a handful of the principles of Plato’s Republic, which clearly called for education at the earliest possible age, starting with physical and slowly progressing toward mental. William, however, was hell-bent on proving that his son could bypass the earlier, more puerile stage of physical education and plunge straight into the mental – this proved costly on both Ted’s and his father’s fronts, as Ted suffered from mild weight gain as a result of inactivity and Henry was more liable to get frustrated with the boy for lazing around and becoming idle while reading; moreover, Henry caught the longing stares Ted would cast toward the window when entrenched in a particularly uninteresting book and often reprimanded him for his behavior later. Ted, blinded by his father’s erudite policies and saddened by his overall dearth of a social life in result of his educational hermitage, took great strides against his father’s wishes, though always indirectly, as he loved his father incredibly much and always wanted to please him, never wanting to cross the line of mild irritation and go into the uncharted territory of full-fledged anger in regard to his father. So, in order to appease him, he would sit down all day and read, would read outside, would read inside, would read, read, read, read until he’d cleaned out most of his father’s elementary library. At this point, young Ted had reached the ripe age of ten and had been acquainted with the travails of Odysseus to the trials of Othello and had skipped a grade in his primary Muggle school, a fact about which Henry never ceased to brag. .

P R O T E C T I V E

Having been raised by both logic and love, Ted is not only intelligent but caring as well, being able to read into the emotions of others, feeling the natural paternal tendencies toward both women and men, the feeling that mankind should be protected, that they should be helped. And as for his mother, Jane, Ted learned from her one of the most valuable lessons he could have ever learned – the lesson of how to love freely and how to accept unconditional love. When he was little and was stuck inside the apartment reading all day, listening to the harmonies of laughing children as they romped in the public school’s playground right across from his house, Jane would sneak up to his room and they’d have a little tea party for two. Henry didn’t come home till late and Jane was always home during the day, having to work only the night shift at the local restaurant, thus it was she who often kept her bright young son company during those lonely reading sessions of his. They would have scones and tea at approximately twelve o’clock in the afternoon, and after they were finished they would take a walk to the playground across the street and Jane would let Ted play with the boys who gathered there every day. At first it was incredibly awkward, as Ted didn’t really know how to interact with people very well and they had only known of him through school as the nerdy kid who sat in the back of class reading and ignoring the teacher and always getting yelled at for so doing. But after a few weeks had gone by and the ice was broken, Ted actually began to make friends. With them he bonded, and through both theirs and Jane’s love Ted learned the importance of love as opposed to the importance of knowledge, and began to earn more respect for both fields. He devoted himself to the study of love, then, as he was already quite familiar with that of knowledge, and of discovering both how to behave around friends. He was so happy to have them, finally, that he would make them little gifts all the time, for which he was usually made fun of, and always try to include them in his life in every way possible. He became entirely focused on their well being, walking with them to school, helping them cross the street, holding an umbrella over their heads when it rained... Ted went a little overboard at first, feeling that if he were to be lax in upholding his end of his friendships he would lose them, but slowly became more watered down to a socially acceptable level with time.

S E N S I T I V E

Not in the sense that he is prone to tears, or that he has an increased likelihood to be offended, but in the sense that Ted is incredibly alert, aware, keen of what is going on around him. He is acutely aware of what is going on in a room, and when he steps in he’s the kind of person who can just feel the electricity charging the air. He knows when something is wrong, when something is right, when any kind of emotion flows through the room, because through his reading and his thinking Ted has become increasingly aware of his surroundings and the people in them. For example, whenever he walked into his father’s study, Ted always knew right away if his father was in a good mood or a bad mood judging by his facial expression and the overall tightness of the air, the way it felt on his skin, the way his stomach dropped through the floor out of fear of disappointing him or shot through the roof at his praise. Ted could always sense, as he eased into a conversation with Bill, whether or not Henry wanted to talk, whether or not he was in a praise-giving mood. Ted always knew how to read his father, perhaps the best out of all his family. His mother, on the other hand, was usually more difficult to read, as she was constantly trying to project an image of stability for her young son and often never let her emotions betray her. Jane has always been that way, striving to protect the feelings of her husband and son than her own. While this can be seen as admirable on one hand, on the other it is rather unsettling, as Ted can never know if she’s really happy or just pretending for his sake. Either way, he wants to be around her, wants to get inside her head. Ted wants to get into everyone’s head, for that matter, as he’s always extremely concerned about their thoughts, about what they’re feeling. But being extremely sensitive to the people around him, being able to sense what they’re feeling or thinking, has really helped Ted to become the person he is today.

P R O F O U N D

Prone to speculation as a result of having read a plethora of thought-provoking books in his youth, Ted, in short, thinks deep thoughts. He can’t just look at a blade of grass and see a blade of grass; no, he digests it, he appreciates it, he sees its fibers, its veins, it’s pigment, its beauty. No, Ted doesn’t simply look at anything. He appreciates it. And he’s this way with everything. He appraises understated beauty, finds more value in a person if he has to look for their beauty, look for their underlying allure. Sure, he appreciates those who are overwhelmingly beautiful, but his preference is with those who have more beauty than meets the eye. More internal beauty, one could say. He doesn’t ever take things at face value, not even with girls – he likes to dig deeper, to see more, to find the underlying beauty. Because to Ted? If a girl is outwardly beautiful but inwardly has no depth, no beauty? He doesn’t look at her twice. That may sound harsh, but Ted feels that those girls get plenty of attention from other guys anyway and for all the wrong reasons – he doesn’t want to be one of the masses. He never has.


Likes:
+ Philosophy.
+ Inner beauty.
+ Intelligence.
+ Reading.
+ Quidditch.
+ Muggle sports.
+ His wand.
+ Hogwarts.
+ His parents.
+ Dueling.
+ Debating.
+ Consoling.
+ Getting out of his comfort zone.
+ Friendship.
+ Mythology.
+ Magical creatures.
+ Poetry.
+ Economics.
+ Leadership.
+ Journaling.
+ Eating.
+ Taking risks.
+ Laughing.
+ Observing.
+ Discussions.
+ Lecture-oriented classes.
+ Writing with quills.
+ Magic.
+ History.
+ Flawed people.
+ Owls, particularly his owl, Aristotle.
+ Plato.
+ Socrates.
+ Sophocles.
Dislikes:
– Death Eaters.
– He Who Must Not Be Named.
– The Blacks.
– The affluent.
– Purebloods.
– War.
– Vengeance.
– Dishonesty.
– Stupidity.
– Violence.
– Failing.
– Irresponsibility.
– Despondence.
– Ignorance.
– Financial ruin.
– Selfishness.
– Gullibility.
– Hypocrisy.
– Evil.
– Prejudice.
– Desperation.
– Frivolity.
– Wasting time.
– Negligence.
– Uncleanliness.
– Being OCD.
– Stuffy rooms.
– Crowded places.
– Judgmental people.
– Faithlessness.
– Amorality.
– Fear.
– Suffering.

History:

History:

Mother: Jane Elisabeth Holland-Tonks.
Father: William ‘Bill’ Rainier Tonks.


It seems fitting that one such as Theodore Tanner Tonks would have a history involving strong ties in the academic field. Rather, being the way that he is––astute, grounded in logic, erudite, philosophical, compassionate––it is definitely a very apt conclusion to make that the parents of such an intellectual specimen must, themselves, be very intellectually cultivated as well. No such brain could have been comprised from two faulty halves, if you catch my drift. Thus, yes, it must be said that literature and academia have been a part of Ted’s life since even before Ted was a part of Ted’s life. In fact, Ted comes from a long line, on both sides of his family (both his mother’s and his father’s, mind), of great minds. The Tonks’ on his father’s side were always exceptionally gifted at schoolwork, consistently at the top of their class, and almost invariably dedicated to the collegiate world for the rest of their lives post-graduation. The mind was praised above all, and the family essentially revolved around education and its basic tenants, constantly working to improve the system in London and the whole of the United Kingdom, to some marginal success. The Tonks were the kind of annoyingly dedicated individuals who were always writing letters to principals, always considered teacher’s pets, always prepared for the various tests and quizzes and homework assignments thrust their way, always with the same nutritious lunch daily, always seen with the others exactly like them... you get the idea. The Tonks were the goody-two-shoes, the do-no-wrongs, the ones everyone wanted to be friends with so they could copy their answers on tests. Such was the cross of a Tonk to bear, as Ted’s father had told him many a time. Ted’s father, William Tonks, was indeed a prime example of the type of person the Tonks family turned out. He was tall, strapping, handsome... and totally, unhealthily, wholesomely dedicated to philosophy and reading. So much so that he had no friends, no social life, and in fact no daily occupation outside of the forced communications with his family and his constant studying. This paid off, however, as Bill was sent to Oxford on a very generous scholarship, where he went in pursuit of a doctorate’s degree in philosophy. This would take a good many years, though, and a good many pounds, more, in fact, than even his generous scholarship could cover. The Tonks did indeed have a small fortune (emphasis on small), but this was shut up in the bank to be drawn upon in the event of an emergency. Teachers, at any level, even back in Ted’s father’s father’s day, were not paid very handsomely, you see, no matter how elevated their level of intelligence in and out of school, and so the Tonks, being as practical as they were, often stored whatever extra they made in this small fund at the bank, just in case something were to happen in the future. However, the more recent generations of Tonks have unfortunately taken to removing sums of money from this account and donating it to school fundraisers across England, Ted’s father’s generation being no exception. You see, had it not been for that unfortunate fact, Bill would have been able to dip into its funds and pay for most of the rest of his education, but seeing as that was no longer an option, he was forced to resort to alternate means of allowance. This meant that during the day, when he was not assisting the professors teach their classes as part of a graduate tuition program, he was off at the local high school offering himself out for tutoring in all subjects. The one subject which he did not expect to receive tutoring in, however, was home economics.

Her name was Jane Holland. She really was a sweet thing, just a little wisp of a girl, not a day older than eighteen. Though Jane was a senior, she was taking home economics as part of the core curriculum she had yet to finish, as she had put it off all other years of her high school career in favor of more academically-centered classes which required a lot more time and thought than a silly (at least, that’s how she saw it) how-to-make-babies-and-keep-them-alive class, or so Jane liked to call it. As Bill soon learned, Miss Holland, too, came from a long line of academically-centered individuals. Not as smart as the Tonkses, but of course, but probably a somewhat close second. The Hollands were very active in the superintendency and all subsequent boards, and had somewhat of a wealth at their disposition due to their connections with those of higher power in the academic chain of command. The Hollands were originally merchants from Sweden, contrary to the English born-and-bred Tonkses, though had somehow ended up in England sometime in the eighteenth century. Since their migration to England, the Hollands made a nice and respectable enough name for themselves among the other prominent merchant families around, and with the remains of their wealth from Sweden were able to afford premium tutelage for all their subsequent issue. At any rate, the private high school at which Bill tutored was where the youngest of the latest Holland generation, Jane, had a reputation for hosting the best brains of the century, and it was quite evident that Jane was one of these upon Bill’s first meeting with her. It wasn’t just the way she handled difficult material, tackled challenging information and presented it to her peers, or the way even her teachers seemed to revere her that attracted him most. She was positively the most alluring and captivating individual he had ever had the fortune of meeting. With her long, blond hair, her tanned skin, and her bright, sparkling gray-blue eyes, she was the picture of absolute, divine perfection. Despite the differences in their age, Bill found himself irrevocably fascinated with her––a feeling that was reciprocated tenfold by Jane herself. To Jane, Bill was strong, intelligent, and held such a startling promise for the future. It was hard not to develop feelings for him. Being a student-volunteer-tutor, Jane had plenty of time to interact with him, and the two of them had many, many long conversations about philosophy, and Jane’s particular field of expertise––theology. It was through their mutual love of God that Bill and Jane fell in love, and it was through that love that both their careers suffered an untimely demise.

It wasn’t too long before the torrid love affair that had begun between the daughter of the Hollands and son of the Tonkses was discovered by the principal at the private school, and the both of them were tossed out on the curb. Bill just nearly evaded criminal charges, mostly at the handiwork of Jane, who pleaded and begged her parents not to pursue a case against him. Sure, her reputation was ruined, and sure, she would never finish her high school degree, and sure, she had brought local shame and humiliation upon her family, but she reminded her parents that all of these things were a direct consequence of the choices she had made, and she would own them, every single one. Although they were still livid with anger, the Hollands agreed to restrain themselves from attacking the Tonkses, and instead turned to punishing their daughter by asking her to leave their house and take up residence elsewhere. It was hard to be so bluntly rejected by her family, but Jane had come to expect it, especially due to her indiscretion with Bill in public, and her teary-eyed defense of him, to boot. So, as was to be expected, she moved in with the object of her affections. It was the talk of the town. But she was eighteen, so there was not much that anyone could do about it. Bill was living alone in a shabby apartment now, not at all the sort of upper middle-class home that Jane was used to. She tried hard not to be too disappointed. Life with Bill was as good as it could be, after they’d both been taunted by the local press and essentially had their futures taken away from them, but they tried to be as happy as they could manage with what little they had. Bill discovered that Jane was in fact a good cook, despite her disinterest in home economics, and Jane soon learned that Bill was an excellently clean man, a relatively rare trait among his kind. Bill, at the age of twenty four, had every single career opportunity denied him, and had extreme difficulty in finding even a base occupation with which to support he and his girlfriend. The apartment he leased was positioned atop a small pizza parlor downtown, and he had known the owners for some time, so they allowed both he and Jane to work off their rent by cleaning the dishes and bussing tables after hours (this prevented the town from noticing that they were employed there, as it might negatively impact business if it were to be discovered––the gossip still had yet to fade). It was a good situation while it lasted, but it was still not bringing in enough income for them to be able to spend anything on, say, groceries, or clothing, or anything of the kind. Soon it became clear that this could only be a temporary solution, and one or both of them would have to find secondary employment elsewhere. Jane volunteered immediately to be the first to do this, as she still sort of blamed herself for this whole mess, but after she discovered she was pregnant, Bill refused to allow her to take on more stress. Additionally, he married her. So, after four months of knowing one another, and six months of living together, making a total of ten whole months, Jane Elisabeth Holland became Jane Elisabeth Tonks, and they were both expecting another little Tonks to be joining them soon. News of her pregnancy soon spread to her parents and then the rest of her family, and soon enough, they reached out to the suffering couple and soothed all ills between them, leading to the forming of an alliance between the Holland and Tonks families that would prove to be strong enough to withstand the difficulty of their youngest children’s chosen lifestyles. It seemed to make sense that these two families, paragons of education in England as they were, would form such an alliance, and soon enough, the two were closer than perhaps even Jane and Bill.

The young married couple did have their fair share of marital stress. Jane, it seemed, was a rather sickly pregnant girl, and after myriad trips to the physician, the couple learned that it was just short of a miracle that they were able to conceive at all. The knowledge that this child would probably be their first and last came as a painful shock to Jane, who had planned, ever since she was younger, to fill her future husband’s house up with as many children as she could. In her own way, she faulted Bill, somehow, for ruining this image she’d had in her mind of her perfect future life, and Bill, in turn, faulted Jane for ruining his. He’d wanted to teach at Oxford, to become a world-class doctor of philosophy, and to eventually settle down when and where he wanted to––not be forced into it by the local newspaper, and a soon to be child. It is true, that both Jane and Bill did love one another, and strongly––but the troubles of being a young couple in love, additionally burdened by the weight of failed dreams and aspirations, and a swaddling babe on the way, seemed to dampen their affections. In times of doubt, though, Jane reminded herself of all the theological chats they’d had all those months ago, and the excitement in being a mistress to a top Oxford student. Well. Once an Oxford student, anyway. And Bill, he reminded himself of how beautiful she was, how much he’d fallen in love with her passion for academia, and soon enough, the two were well on their way to working through their issues. They still lived atop the pizza parlor, but much more comfortably now that the Hollands had commenced giving them a monthly allowance, which was just enough money to live on. The Hollands also covered all medical expenses in terms of the baby, and for a while, all seemed well, and tranquil. In the hopes of raising another just as intelligent as them, Jane and Bill would read aloud at night to her swelling belly, tales from Dickens, Shakespeare, Marlowe, and the basic principles of Kant, Rousseau, St. Augustine, and many more. Soon enough, Jane and Bill were growing to be very excited about their child’s birth, however much they feared their own parenthood was a little premature. Jane had always dreamed of being a mother, as many little girls had, and found herself predisposed to doting on the child as much as a first-time-mother ought. She and Bill spent many evenings baby-proofing the flat, and so, when her time came, they were at least prepared in one area.

On July the seventeenth, Jane and Bill Tonks welcomed a bouncing baby boy into their tiny family. After Jane’s father, they christened him Theodore, and after Bill’s father, gave him the middle name of Tanner. Theodore Tanner Tonks was definitely his mother’s child. With his curling blond tufts, bright blue eyes, and olive-colored skin, he had little in him that resembled his father. Still, as the days and weeks and months passed, it became clearer every day that he was indeed his father’s son just as much as he was his mother’s, for he was an intelligent little baby; inquisitive, curious, and constantly testing boundaries. The Hollands and Tonkses could not have been more pleased with this beautiful little turnout of what had been the scandal of the year. Soon enough, Bill was able to procure a job as a history teacher at a poorly-funded public school in the next township over, and Jane kept her job washing dishes and bussing at the pizza parlor, so she could stay at home and remain close to her son. Growing up, Theodore was fairly similar to most boys. He was rowdy, boisterous, loud, conniving, and... porky. His mother spoiled him excessively––she was an excellent cook, to boot––and it seemed as though the more his mother spoiled him the more distant his father became. Bill liked to regard himself as a man of principles, and when it came to raising children he had already made up his mind as to how he would go about it. He wanted Theodore to be smart, to be the best of the best, to be exceptionally talented at everything that was seemingly impossible for him to be talented at. Bill refused to call his son Ted or Teddy, finding the nicknames demeaning and immature. He treated his son like an adult as soon as Ted could walk and speak, and it seemed as though the only appropriate attention he received was from his mother. Bill and Jane usually agreed on everything. Everything, of course, except how to raise a child. This was perhaps the force that drove a wedge between them in later years. At any rate, Ted was caught in the middle of their constant bickering behind closed doors over Henry ‘being too harsh on Teddy’ or Jane ‘coddling him too much and preventing him from reaching his full potential.’ It was during one of these fights that Ted discovered he was a wizard. He was sobbing from the other side of the door (he was supposed to be in bed asleep, but he’d been awakened by his parents’ shouting and crouched on the other side of their bedroom door to listen in because he simply couldn’t sleep) and got so angered and frustrated and infuriated that he blew the door right off its hinges, over his stunned parents’ heads, and through the open window. Needless to say, Bill was less than amused, and Jane fainted on the spot. After that particular incident, things worsened for the Tonks family.

Upon discovering that he was a wizard, Ted received myriad letters from an institute called the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, at which he was requested to attend. Of course, being a fanciful young boy, he couldn’t have asked for anything more exciting and fantastic, but his parents, grounded in reason and logic, were extremely skeptical about this said school. Eventually, though, they were able to communicate with the sender of the letters (via owl, oddly enough) and ascertained enough information about the school to where they were willing to send their son. Grudgingly, of course, seeing as this deviated from the life plan they’d conceived for him. But now that he was apparently magical, it seemed as though some higher power had different plans for their son. Jane was, of course, proud of him, in her own way, and Bill too, though he didn’t show it. They accompanied him to this mysterious shopping adventure in what was called Diagon Alley, and were able to scrap together enough money for the bare minimum in his supplies list. Luckily enough, the owner of the owl store took pity on the family and offered them a handsome discount for a great tawny owl that would come to be called Aristotle by the little boy. So, when he boarded the train for his first year, he was fully stocked, and fully terrified. Being a ‘muggleborn,’ or so he learned was his particular distinction in the wizarding world, wasn’t easy. However, he diligently plunged into his studies, working as much as he could to prove himself and his worth and, in some small way, make his parents proud of him. Being Head Boy his seventh year was a great achievement, and he only hopes that the rest of his year there continues to be as successful as its genesis.

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[teddy]

Sample Post: Please refer to posts made by Alice Logan, Priscilla Pryce, Regulus Black, and Juliette Benoit? Thankies! <333

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{ C O N T R A C T }

I solemnly swear that I, FIEF, 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.

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[Andromeda Black]

accepteeeeeeed!

or like... accep-TED -giggles-