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Post by Bentley Fenwick on Jul 9, 2012 9:02:58 GMT -5
   __________________________________________________________a b o u t . y o u !
Name: Didi
Preferred Pronouns: anything femme
Age: oh, I don’t know anymore
E-mail: you got it already
Twitter and/or Tumblr: you got it already
Years of RPG Experience: I dunno anymore
Other: draco
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q u i c k . q u i z !
How did you find us?
What about ISS inspired you to join?
Do you have any suggestions for us?
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a b o u t . t h e . c h a r a c t e r !
Name: Bentley Andrew Michael Fenwick. If you want to really piss him off, call him Benjy. Just call him Fenwick; it’s easier on everyone.
Date of Birth: 3 July, 1959
Gender: Male
Year: Graduated in June, 1977
Face Claim: Channing Tatum
Canon or Original? Canon
Distinguishing Physical Features: Fenwick is a decidedly tall bloke, reaching around 6’4”, and he’s got a bit of a triangular build: he’s wide at the shoulders, and tapers down by the hips. He does take care of himself; he doesn’t go to a gym or use the typical tools to work out, such as weights. Fenwick prefers to work his own body into shape by doing press ups, sits up, and other work outs. As well, he learned years ago how to use almost anything horizontal for pull ups, so it’s safe to say that he’s in shape. His body is riddled with a number of tattoos: a band on his left upper arm, a skull on his left bicep, a posing nude woman on his inner thigh, and, most recently, a bull shark on the left side of his chest – which he got after creating a Patronus successfully for the first time. As well, he has a tattoo of his brother’s name on his inner left wrist, and his sister’s name on his inner right wrist. As far as his looks go, Fenwick certainly isn’t ugly, but he does have a ‘rough’ look to him that he figures goes with the territory of his life. His ears stick out and his nose is crooked, having been broken a few times, and if you look closely at his right hand and arm you’ll see that he can’t properly hold a quill with it – consequences of never setting a broken arm. Other than that, he considers himself pretty average-looking.
Wand Type: Ironwood and dragon heartstring, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Rigid, unyielding, good for offensive spells more than defensive.
Patronus: Bull shark.
Boggart: Seeing his little brother and sister beaten, bloody, and dead.
Personality:
First thing’s first: Fenwick is not some secret nice guy. He is an asshole, through and through, even to people he likes – or ‘tolerates’. There’s a lot of anger inside him and it tends to come out in violent, destructive ways. He’s extremely aggressive and likes to pick fights, but he doesn’t bully people at random. Whenever Fenwick pushes someone’s buttons, he makes sure it’s someone who can fight back and who won’t just succumb and take his words to heart. It’s easy for someone to assume he’s just a big schoolyard bully, but he’s not. He doesn’t prey on insecurities to make a person feel bad about them: he chooses the fastest way to start a physical brawl. He doesn’t even need the other person to make the first swing, since he’ll go for it at the slightest indication that the other person would hit back. Not to mention he’ll punch anyone who calls him ‘Benjy’ in the mouth, other than his siblings. Girls don’t get hit, since he thinks they physically aren’t a match for him (and quite often, he’s right) but he will curse at them. So even though he starts fights, they tend to be ‘fair’ fights, in an odd way. He’s not a bully, but he’s definitely not nice either. If he does have a nice moment, it’s incredibly rare (for instance, if he does see someone getting bullied, he’ll stick up for the kid) and he prefers to pretend it never happened. Lots of times, they’re forgotten anyway: normally he’s such an ass that people almost get used to it.
That being said, Fenwick hates it when people attack those weaker than they are. He especially hates it when kids or innocent people get hurt over something stupid. The quickest way to send Fenwick into an uncontrollable rage is to harm a child; it’s safe to say that he could potentially kill someone at that point in anger. The reason he decided to become a Hit Wizard is because he wants to protect people from those who would cause harm to those unable to defend themselves. He knows what it’s like to feel weak and powerless while someone much bigger and stronger than you are makes you their target, and he doesn’t want to see it happen to anyone else. There is nothing more cowardly, in his mind, than hurting someone who can’t fight back. It’s also why he’s chosen to take a stand against Voldemort, if the opportunity should ever arise. It isn’t fair for Muggles to be targeted when they have no weapons to defend themselves against magic – surely guns and knives can’t penetrate a Shield Charm. Not to mention, Fenwick himself is Muggle-born, and takes a great personal offense to the idea that he’s not a good wizard just because he’s not a pureblood. Purebloods are nothing but spoiled, elitist brats, in his opinion. And anyway, Lily Evans was a Muggle-born, and she was by far the best student in their year. He believes that the fact that purebloods are trying to smother the Muggle-borns proves how scared they really are over the fact that they aren’t as good as people from non-magical backgrounds. Again, he believes, it’s cowardice, which he has no patience for.
Don’t ever call Fenwick stupid. He is not. He’s no genius, but he’s a lot smarter than he’ll let people believe. Despite all the trouble he got into during his school years, whether it was for skipping classes, not turning in homework, or disrupting other students while they were learning, Fenwick always managed to surprise his professors by never getting less than an E on a test. He received four O’s on his NEWT exams and graduated with high marks – he did smarten up a bit in his NEWT years, showing up to almost all of his classes and turning in most of the assigned homework. Muggle school when he was a child was similar: despite getting expelled from one for fighting, his marks were shockingly good. Fenwick learned to pick his battles from a young age, and fighting against ‘the system’ for trying to educate him wasn’t a good one. He’s smart in other areas as well, not just academia: growing up where he did, Fenwick had to learn to take care of himself on the street. He’s observant enough to get a sense of ‘good’ people and ‘bad’ people; with enough time, he can tell the difference between people who are just assholes, and people who are genuinely dangerous. And yes, he will keep an eye on the latter. Fenwick does value intelligence in people, and tends to respect those who are smart and behave intelligently more than those who decide to be idiots. Tying into his own intelligence is his honesty: Fenwick has never told a lie. He thinks he could tell a lie and get away with it, but chooses not to because to him, lying is stupid (and cowardly, really). Liars always get caught, and that gets them into even bigger trouble in the end. Why waste all that effort when it’s easier to rip off the Band-Aid and tell the truth? Simply put, lying is stupid.
That’s not to say Fenwick never does anything stupid himself. He tries not to, when he gives himself a chance to think about it. But he’s rather impulsive, and incredibly reckless. He isn’t the type of person to back down from a dare or a bet, which can definitely put him in hot water, but he does try to not get involved with such things in the first place. His impulsive choices are what led him to getting his many tattoos. Getting the bull shark on his chest was the first thing he did after finding out that that was his Patronus, and he didn’t even think about it. He just wanted to do it, so he did. Impulses also get him into fights, and yes, he was threatened with expulsion from Hogwarts because of his behaviour. It was suggested to him once to play Quidditch, and maybe get rid of some of his anger and aggression as a Beater, but his fear of heights definitely keeps him off the team. At school, a lot of his anger fueled from his jealousy and bitterness towards the other students. True, he doesn’t know their backstories so his impressions are rather biased, but does have a general sense of loathing toward anyone who takes what they have for granted. He never wanted pity, and didn’t talk about his living situation with anyone, but that didn’t stop him from feeling envious toward those who had better lives than he did. His behaviour and attitude is better at work, because he’s with other people serious about their job. He especially enjoys being taught by Alastor Moody, since he has no time for bullshit either and won’t let anyone get away with anything. Fenwick respects Moody to the point where he almost fears him (hence why Moody is the only other person, besides his siblings, allowed to call him ‘Benjy’; as far as Fenwick’s concerned, Moody can call him whatever he wants).
He’s a hard worker, once he actually focuses on what he’s doing. He wants a better life for himself, and he wants to take care of his younger siblings, so he works diligently at his job to ensure that he’s the best. He chose Hit Wizard as his career over Auror because he wanted to capture the most dangerous criminals – and because most of the blokes in his old house chose Auror, and he really didn’t want to be stuck with them for the rest of his life. He likes the idea of danger, and secretly he likes the idea of being a hero as well. Protecting innocence is something he’s done all his life with his siblings, so it only makes sense that he’d choose a career where that played a major part. It’s important to him to make sure people don’t get hurt when they don’t deserve it at all. But really, he is an asshole, and just because he has values doesn’t mean he’s soft and cuddly inside.
Accuse him of that and you might get a black eye.
Likes:
+ Food
+ Fighting
+ Reading
+ Mad Eye Moody
+ His siblings
Dislikes:
– everything else Rich, spoiled people
– Cooking
– Drugs (especially meth)
– People who hurt kids
– Flying. Okay, heights. Yes, he’s scared of heights.
History:
Fenwick doesn’t know anything about his grandparents, or their parents, or any of his family history. He barely knows about his own parents, and that’s the way he likes it. Honestly, the less he knows about them, the better. Needless to say, he doesn’t have a good relationship with either of them – well, it’s a little hard to have a good relationship with his real dad, seeing as he’s dead – and the one he has with his stepdad is even worse.
But he did have parents, at one point. Once upon a time, Anthony Fenwick and Marla Castle were in love. They believed they would go to the ends of the earth for each other. Their romance was sweet and pure: childhood sweethearts, neighbours who played together since they were in diapers; they went to school together, they graduated school together, and got married right after graduation. She stayed home to be the good little housewife she was raised to be, and he went off to work at the automotive shop down the street. They didn’t have much, since they never came from much; neither went to post-secondary, and neither were very ambitious. Marla often envisioned her children going off to do great things, maybe becoming a doctor and curing cancer, but her fantasies didn’t last long. Tony was staying out after work with his friends from the shop, and would come home different. He smelled funny – sometimes of alcohol, but sometimes of something else –and he acted completely opposite to the sweet and caring and gentle man she’d fallen in love with. He was wild, and paranoid, and sometimes when he kissed her and took her to bed he was too rough, and then he would pass out and wouldn’t wake until well into the following day. During one of these nights, after he’d passed out on top of her, Marla managed to wiggle out and searched through his work clothes and bag. She found a small plastic bag filled with a fine, white powder, and decided to confront Tony in the morning. He needed to stop whatever he was doing, she told him, because it was changing him into someone she didn’t like and it was tearing them apart. Tony broke down, and tearfully apologised, and promised he’d stop.
He didn’t.
It only got worse. Soon he began bringing friends over from work, who would grab at Marla and tease her and would take out that powder and put it on her table – her grandmother’s antique coffee table! – and inhale it into their nostrils. Every night, they would call to Marla, encourage her to try it, and she refused. Every night, until Tony grabbed her around the waist and pushed her head toward the table. Try it, he growled at her, so Marla did. And whenever they told her to try it after that, she would. Soon, they didn’t have to ask anymore: whenever they brought it out, she was right there, doing it with them. It was the only thing that felt good anymore, because her marriage with Tony was falling apart whenever sobriety hit. Their perfect world was crumbling.
When Marla became pregnant, it was unplanned and a wake-up call to her: they needed to get off the drugs (‘meth’, she’d heard the guys from the shop call it, among other names) and straighten out their lives. They needed to save their money for their baby. They needed to live for their baby. But it was easier said than done, and Marla couldn’t handle the withdrawal symptoms that seemed to hit immediately. She went right back into it (it was only her body it would be affecting, right? There was no way it could hurt the baby) and so did Tony. The baby was born over a month early, and he clearly wasn’t healthy. Terrified that the hospital would take her son away, Marla gave birth to him at home, and had no idea that her baby was going through withdrawal from the moment he was born. But she and Tony loved him, and Marla did try to keep him separate from the world of drugs even as she and Tony were pulled deeper into it. Bentley, they named him: Bentley Andrew Michael Fenwick. It sounded classy, in Marla’s mind, and hopefully he’d get out of this dump of a neighbourhood and do something better with his life. Maybe be a doctor. Or a lawyer. Or a scientist.
Bentley was a sweet kid. He was exceptionally polite, always saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, and a night didn’t go by without him giving his mum and dad a kiss and hug goodnight. But he was a smart kid, and he knew that his mummy and daddy were different. He knew that they did a ‘bad thing’, and he didn’t know what it was, but it made them different. It made them weird, and he didn’t like them whenever they did the bad thing. But Bentley didn’t know what the bad thing was, and he still loved his parents, so he was a good boy and never said anything. He was four when Marla became pregnant again, and this time it was with twins. For a while, his mum stopped doing the bad thing. And she became mean, and she cried a lot, and yelled at his dad and yelled at him even when he wasn’t bad. Bentley was confused, and he became angry too. Sometimes he would get into fights with the bigger kids at the playground, and would come home with a split lip or a black eye. But his mum never asked how it happened, and she never kissed it better like she used to, and his dad was too busy trying to take care of his mum to notice. Bentley would miss school because his parents would forget to send him; eventually, he learned the proper time to go by himself, and would walk to the corner and catch the bus with other children on his street. He got into fights at school, and even called his teacher names, and had more detention than many of the older students. But Bentley’s parents didn’t care, so he didn’t, either. Sometimes he caught himself wishing his mum would do the bad thing again, just so that she would smile like she used to and start to care about him again, but that was bad. He would always take it back as soon as he thought it.
The twins were born in the middle of winter: a boy and a girl, Miles Jonathan Fenwick and Annabelle Lea Fenwick. They were much healthier than Bentley had been, though they were both rather small. Bentley sneaked into their room one night while they were sleeping, and he promised them that he’d be the best big brother they’d ever have. He’d protect them from everything, he said, even from the bad thing their mum and dad did. The fact that Marla was doing it again as soon as the babies were born didn’t go unnoticed by Bentley, who, as much as he missed Marla’s smiles, wished desperately that they never started doing it again. Tony was acting weird these days, too: he was distant, avoidant, and was only home to sleep and eat before being out all day and well into the evening. Marla was so drugged out and exhausted from the twins that she hardly noticed, but Bentley did. He missed his dad, and so he stayed up late until Tony came home and he told him that he wanted to go to the park with him. Tony agreed and ruffled his hair before heading off to bed, and to Bentley’s amazement, his dad remembered it the next morning. He took him to the park, but he was acting weird the whole time. It was like he was afraid of something, jumping at shadows and every loud noise. It was just them in the park that day, which seemed to make Tony even more nervous. Bentley was on the swings, and Tony just finished giving him the final push when two men appeared and grabbed Tony by the arms. Bentley screamed and jumped off the swings, trying to hit the men who started to beat his dad, but one of them pushed him back into the sand. Not in front of my son, Tony was pleading. Please, not in front of my boy. Bentley got back up and drew back his fist, and he hit one of the men in the cheek as hard as he could.
The man, quite literally, went flying. The remaining three watched in horror and amazement as the one Bentley had punched soared over a park bench and landed a good ten feet on the other side. Bentley stared at his own hands in wonder as the other bad guy ran to get his buddy, leaving Tony and Bentley to themselves. This isn’t over, they promised, and then they fled.
Tony and Bentley didn’t tell Marla what happened. She asked about Tony’s bruised face, and he said he was pushing Bentley on the swings and wasn’t paying attention and got hit with a shoe. Marla didn’t press it further.
A week later, Tony was dead. Bentley came home from school and saw his dad’s coat on the hook. That meant he was home, but he wasn’t upstairs with Marla – she was asleep while the twins napped – and he wasn’t outside, because he’d have his coat. Bentley checked the garage, wondering if he was working on his car again, and then he saw him: sitting inside the car while it was running, and he looked like he was asleep. Bentley went over to wake him up, and Tony turned his head toward his son for a moment and he looked frightened… and then he looked like nothing. Somehow, Bentley knew that he was dead. He didn’t know how, or why, but he knew that he’d just seen his dad die, and it had been on purpose.
It was only a few months after the death of her husband that Marla began to date again. Immediately, Bentley hated the man she was seeing. She was trying to replace his dad, and this guy was a jerk. His name was Carl Johnson, and even though he didn’t do the bad thing, he knew what it was. And he had lots of it, and he sold it to other people – including Marla. Bentley hated him, and Carl didn’t seem to like him very much other. In fact, it wasn’t long before Carl started hitting Bentley. The boy’s never been punished a day in his life, he would tell Marla. It’s time he learned to be a real man. At first, he didn’t hit Bentley too often: maybe once every two weeks, just to ‘smarten him up’. Marla never said a word. But they began to escalate; Bentley would mouth him off, so Carl would smack his cheek. Bentley would knock over a beer, so Carl would use his belt to hit his backside. Whenever Marla saw, he would assure her that it was a good lesson, and that Bentley deserved it. It was teaching him to be a man, he would tell her, so Marla kept quiet. Bentley hated her for that.
They lived that way for almost six years. In that time, Bentley had been expelled from school for fighting, and had received the beating of his life for it. His right arm, which he used for writing, had been broken when Carl grabbed it and twisted it as hard as he could, and it was never set. Bentley had to learn to do everything left-handed, which was hard, and he felt stupid for it. Even when his arm healed, he still couldn’t use it very well. He went to his new school using his left hand, and the kids made fun of him for how messy he was; Bentley punched one in the nose in retaliation, and was sent home to another beating. But as much as he wanted to, Bentley didn’t fight back. He sometimes wished he could kill Carl, but he knew that he couldn’t. And if Carl couldn’t beat Bentley, he might start beating Marla – or, worse, he could beat Miles and Annabelle. Bentley had promised to protect them, and if that meant taking the beatings so that they wouldn’t have to, then he would. They called him Benjy, since they had problems with his real name, but they were the only ones allowed to do so. (Really: anyone else who called him Benjy got punched right away.) He was their guardian, and over the years, he kinda became like a parent to them. Bentley taught himself how to cook basic meals and how to clean, since Marla was getting more useless every day, and Carl never lifted a damn finger around the house.
On his eleventh birthday, something very strange happened: two oddly-dressed men showed up at the door and said that they were from the Ministry of Magic. Carl refused to let them in the house, saying that they needed a warrant, and slammed the door in their faces. For once, he actually helped Bentley tidy up, but it was more out of his own fear of getting caught with drugs than shame at a messy house. Sure enough, someone else showed up at their door an hour later, and he was the weirdest-looking man Bentley had ever seen. He had a beard down to his waist that was long enough to tuck into his belt, and hair just as long, and was in a dress-looking thing and a big hat. He introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore, and said he wished to speak to Bentley – alone, please. Grudgingly, Carl let him in, and Dumbledore told Bentley the most extraordinary thing he’d ever heard:
You’re a wizard, and you belong at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Hearing that he was getting away from this hellhole was fantastic, and Bentley was eager to go, and couldn’t wait to tell his brother and sister that they were leaving – but Dumbledore stopped him right there, and informed him that he was going. They wouldn’t be attending school until they were eleven. He understood that they were in a difficult situation, and he was sorry, but he could not bend the rules. That was the last time Bentley cried; without him, they’d definitely be beaten. Carl would hurt them, maybe kill them. He didn’t voice any of this to Dumbledore, but the old man seemed to understand somehow. He promised Bentley that he would do what he could for them, and for some reason, Bentley trusted him. Then Dumbledore asked to speak to his mother, who didn’t even seem to understand what she was being told. Carl, who overheard, said he knew Bentley was a freak, and he was glad that he was being shipped off.
Carl didn’t beat Bentley at all after Dumbledore’s visit. He didn’t beat any of them, as far as he knew. Maybe Dumbledore had done something magical; Bentley didn’t know. But it was great to finally be free of pain for a bit. Still, Bentley’s walls were up. He had learned to never, ever let his guard down, because it made it harder for others to hurt you. He had learned to hit first and ask questions later, which got him into plenty of trouble at Hogwarts in his first few years. Bentley – who preferred to be known as Fenwick at that point, since Bentley seemed pretentious – was a loner, and a general ass to everyone, even those who tried to be friendly. Often he was the instigator of fights, but he only fought those he believed could fight back effectively – that is, he never provoked anyone he could easily beat. Anyway, he didn’t get in fist fights too often. His dormmates weren’t really assholes the way Muggle kids were. Still, he kept to himself, writing to his brother and sister every week and always relieved to hear that they were safe and unhurt.
The summer Bentley came home between his fourth and fifth year, things changed. Carl seemed meaner than ever, and Marla was now sick, and whatever magic Dumbledore worked on Carl had worn off. Bentley got a black eye for his birthday, and later, Carl struck Annabelle across the face for dropping a dish.
That was when Bentley lost it. He didn’t use magic at all, but tackled Carl to the ground and began to beat him. He sat on his chest, pinning his arms with his knees, and punched with both hands until they were covered with blood and Carl’s face was a swollen, unrecognisable mess. Marla was wailing and crying, and Miles called the nearest hospital for help. Carl was alive, and he would live, but Bentley was in trouble with the law. He spent the night in prison before he was bailed out – by whom, he never knew – and was told that he wasn’t going to be charged as it was self-defense (his own black eye had yet to heal). The Fenwicks never heard from Carl again; Miles and Annabelle received their Hogwarts owls and started school as well, and Bentley took care of them there too. Marla, as far as he was concerned, was a lost cause. She’d chosen meth over her own kids; she was still technically alive, but dead to Bentley, as far as he was concerned.
As far as Hogwarts went, Bentley graduated. He didn’t have top marks (though they were high, and he had potential; he was never stupid), but he did have a goal for the first time in his life. He wanted to be a Hit Wizard, and track down anyone potentially dangerous – from Dark wizards to people who hurt others just for the sake of it, especially people who hurt kids. Maybe it was his big brother instinct, but Bentley had developed a need to protect the innocent from harm. His ferocity and drive certainly haven’t gone unnoticed by his instructors; and even though Fenwick hasn’t specifically said so himself, if a chance arose for him to fight against the Dark Lord, he would take it in a heartbeat.
In the end, it’s the right thing to do.
Sample Post: no.
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c o n t r a c t !
I solemnly swear that I, Didi, 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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