LOVEGOOD, Xenophilius Cinaed.

[xenophilius]

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About You - -

Name: Fief.
Gender: Female.
Age: Sixteen.
Years of RPG Experience: Four.
Other: Falco.

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Quick Quiz - -

How did you find us? A webring. [:
What about ISS inspired you to join? Everything! It’s just such a wonderful environment.
Do you have any suggestions for us? None at all.

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About the Character- -

Name: Xenophilius Cinaed Lovegood.
Age: Fifteen.
Gender: Male.
Year: Fifth.
Face Claim: Jesse McCartney.

Canon or Original? Canon.

Facial Properties:

With his closely-clipped, dirty-blonde hair, Xenophilius is every bit the Lovegood. His round, oval-shaped face and large, protuberant, sky-blue eyes express his every thought quite naturally, making him an easy fellow to read. His nose, small and rounded at the tip, curves up slightly when he feels disdainful about something or someone, usually in relation to their beliefs on him. His eyebrows, thick, darker than his hair, and constantly mobile, often display his internal feelings and sensations. They raise when he’s confused, angry, speculative. They lower when he’s angry, puzzled... you get the picture. His ears, frequently described as being much too large for his face and resembling that of a monkey’s, are more of a disadvantage to him than an advantage. Sure, he could hear very well. But there was only so much his hair could obscure and... his ears didn’t make the cut. However, he tries to ignore them and feels comfort in wearing goggles or hats so he can push them closer to his head. One thing of which he is unashamed, though, is his lips. They are a nice, firm, sturdy pair and are colored a darker, more tannish, attractive pink which compliments his ruddy skin tone quite nicely. In Xeno’s eyes, his lips were made for kissing. For kissing Lilura Liridon, that is (not that he’s done it yet, it’s just a long-term goal of his). His chin, subtly cleft at the narrow tip, detracts slightly from his nice lips, but... Xeno doesn’t get too hung up over it.

Physique:

Chasing after Heliopaths calls for a strong build, doesn’t it? And a strong build Xenophilius has. With firm, tightly-compacted muscles along his arms and chest, his upper body strength is plentiful while his lower body strength, complete with a thin layer of poorly-developed muscles, is minimal. While Xeno does enjoy jogging and building his lower body strength, it really isn’t as fruitful as building its antithesis. He chases after Heliopaths and Nargles frequently and has to swing his arms about quite a bit while hoisting a heavy net above his head. It’s crucial, really, that his arms are meaty. His legs, on the other hand, require little attention, as he only uses them to run and to walk and for little else. His hands, complete with long, bony fingers, are formatted nicely for gripping broomsticks. He cracks his knuckles frequently, especially when stressed or angry. It becomes a nervous habit of his, and though his parents have warned him many a time that knuckle-cracking attracts Umgubular Slashkilters, Xenophilius just can’t find it in himself to stop. Besides, standing at 5’8’', Xeno isn’t easily intimidated by his rather short and squat parents. He’s often towered over his classmates, proudly, and revels in the fact that he is, appropriately, taller than most of the girls in his year.

Personality:

Xenophilius, at many times in his life, has been called insane.

Not kooky, not silly, not bizarre... insane. And is it true? Well, perhaps. He does believe in the existence of creatures that supposedly are mere myths, he does worship the ground an uninterested girl walks on, he does support the underground revival of one of the most deadly wizard competitions, and he does write for the most outlandish newspaper of all time. So, insane miiiiight just begin to explain it. He’s obsessive, possessive, and literally fanatical about just about everything he likes. Xeno can’t just like something, no – he adulates. He worships it, he erects monuments to it... Xeno never takes these things lightly. When he goes, he goes all out. For instance, when he was a little boy, Xenophilius was first introduced to the Heliopaths by his mother, a Heliopath Whisperer. She informed him that there were two or three swarming his father’s head and spoke to them, translating back and forth for her toddler son. Xeno, at the time, had been utterly fascinated by the tiny glowing orbs circulating his father’s head, and had subsequently assembled several different shrines dedicated to these lovely creatures. He hoped, for the duration of his childhood and into his teenage years, that one day he would be gifted with the power of Heliopath Whispering so he, too, could communicate with the fascinating creatures. However, Xenophilius recognized the fact that the sunny beings were very selective about with whom they conferred, and perhaps would never gift him with the ability. Though, he does hold on to the hope that Heliopath Whispering generally runs in families, and the fact that his mother can do it bodes well for him.

Having been sorted into Ravenclaw upon his first day at Hogwarts, Xenophilius does have an intelligent streak. Is it possible to be illogical and logical at the same time? Well, if it is, that’s Xeno. He believes in the existence of universally acknowledged myths and actually believes he can communicate with these myths as well. And, not only that, he supposedly has his own collection. He’s got two Crumple Horned Snorkacks, whom he has affectionally named Fife and Filo and whom he believes followed him back from his trip to Sweden, and also is under the impression that, despite the wishes of his parents, a small herd of Umbugular Slashkilters has been attracted to his knuckle-cracking. He’s not fond of the creatures, since they encourage bad habits, but he doesn’t mind extra company. He dislikes Wrackspurts, as everyone knows they’re the real reason for prejudice and the condescending views on blood purity, but out of all creatures in the wizarding world? He abhors the Nargles most. The Nargles are stinky little winged demons who flit around mischievous and evil people and encourage thievery, being thieves themselves. It is Xeno’s personal belief that Nikolas Fletcher, a sixth year Gryffindor, has the worst infestation of Nargles he’s ever seen: and with reason, too, for Nikolas has upon many occasions tried to execute the heist of Lilura Liridon’s passions. Xenophilius believes Lilura to be his wife already, as Fife and Filo have told him she was the most suitable girl in the school for him, and doesn’t take lightly to the girl hanging around other meddlesome boys. Especially Nikolas Fletcher.

But we have digressed considerably from the original topic: Xeno’s intelligence. The rare streak. Well, even though it is rare, it did get him sorted into Ravenclaw, didn’t it? Thus it deserves some explanation. The youngest member of the Lovegood family has an exceptional wit. Though it may not seem like it at first, given his current mental circumstances, Xenophilius is quick to think and resourceful, finding creative ways to get out of any situation. Thoroughly unconventional in his wisdom, Xeno often confounds people with his advice, whether they be Ravenclaws or not. He once told a girl with poor marks whom he found sobbing in the library to ‘Be sure to ward off the Umbugular Slashkilters with a certain spray’ – which he’d made for her – ‘so that they didn’t encourage her to procrastinate and be lazy with assignments.’ She’d looked at him as if he’d had two heads, but he’d winked at her complacently, patted her on the head, and swept out of the room with a crooked grin on his face, convinced he’d just given her life-saving advice. This is just how Xenophilius is – call him arrogant, call him an egoist, but he believes his word is the best above anyone else’s in the school. And he lives by his word. If there is one thing Xeno is not it is hypocritical. He lives by his word and takes his own advice openly and unabashedly, and often in the company of others so as to attract attention to his grand ideas. It can be said that Xeno is an attention-whore. Because he is. And he’s also a complete drama... err, king? He takes things very seriously, interprets jokes literally, and can’t detect sarcasm to save his life. Thus, whenever any of the three above happen, he gets easily offended and frustrated and makes angry, dramatic statements as he tries desperately to defend himself from whatever supposed attack he was dealt. Only serving to further confuse the sarcastic jokester, who probably meant nothing by it anyway.

Despite his innate intelligence, however, Xenophilius is often forgetful. He’s got so much on his mind that he hardly has enough room for it all, let alone other things happening around him. Thus, he carries around a little flip-book, the one he normally uses for Quibbler stories, and takes down self-reminding notes of what has just happened in case he forgets it later (he would use a Pensieve but he can’t afford it). Many times during a conversation, if Xeno feels there is something important to be noted, he will do so. He will often tuck a quill behind his ear during the day so it’s more accessible, and will keep the flip-book inside his robes. Xeno is very particular about who reads his flip-book as well. He doesn’t share it readily with anyone, treasuring it, telling himself that he has the best stories in the school and people who are interested in reading his little book just want to steal them or are spies for the tabloid or Prophet, having been hired by the editors of the said papers to scoop out the ‘hot new material’ that ‘the Lovegood boy has been hoarding.’ Yes, Xenophilius is ardently convinced that everyone is jealous of his paper, that everyone wants a piece of it, that even the top dogs at the Prophet and the tabloid are sleeping fitfully because they dream about owning The Quibbler only to wake up and realize they don’t. Because Xeno is that faithful to his paper, he feels those things that most of the wizarding community recognizes as impossible.

So, he hoards his notebook. He doesn’t let anyone touch it. He hides it in the folds of his robes and will hex the first person who tries to get near it. Because, it’s quite obvious that they want his information. And who doesn’t, in his mind? Xeno has the only truthful stories about the wizarding world, the only real stories. So they should be jealous, right? Right. And besides, there’s one more thing he keeps stowed in that flip-book: a list of his inventions, their blueprints, and their functions. Xeno invents many things, odds and ends to aid him in his questing for magical beings, and fancies that perhaps one day he will be made famous when one or all of his creations gets mass-produced. After the world discovers how genius Xeno really is. But, until then? Well, Xeno must keep it away from evil wizards who would want to use it to conquer and rule the world. Duh.

Likes:
+ The RRT. Being part of the underground restoration movement, Xenophilius adores the RRT above all else save Lilura and will stop at nothing to promote it.
+ Lilura Licia Liridon. Having been convinced by the snorkacks that Lilura, or, as he calls her, L Cubed, L to the Three, or Triple L, is his future wife, Xeno is extremely protective of her and worships the ground she walks on.
+ Crumple-horned snorkacks. They are his advisors on all matters, mundane or fantastic, and will remain so until he dies. He counsels them before making any decisions, taking their advice above all else. He believes a colony followed him home from Sweden.
+ Heliopaths. Having yet to host an actual conversation with these ethereal beings, Xenophilius finds them to be one of the most fascinating creatures in the world. He has to don special goggles to be able to view them and will follow their herds – which they form around good, righteous people. Lilura, as it so happens, has twelve circling her head.
+ Writing. It is Xeno’s escape, his release from daily tensions, his own personal way of expression. Often, he’ll make observations in the little flip-book he carries around with him, and will use what he writes to fuel the small editorials he publishes in The Quibbler.
+ The fantastic. Xenophilius is ardently convinced that if it didn’t exist neither would he.
+ Legends. They comfort him in his sadness and remind him that people, especially in Nordic mythology, have had a harder time with life than he.
+ His family history. Being a passionate supporter of the Lovegood family, Xeno is determined to put them back on the map, the way they were hundres of years ago. He adores his genealogy, the colorful characters of his past, and wouldn’t exchange them for the world.
+ His cat, Belius. His confidante and constant companion, Xeno lavishes much affection and gifts upon his little gray cat.
+ Charms class. This is Xenophilius’s favorite class, primarily because he is fascinated by the fact that its professor is half-goblin.
+ Taking risks. The boy feels that if he didn’t live a little once in a while, he would be utterly and miserably bored. So, he takes chances, puts his life on the line, tries new and exciting things and never looks back.
Dislikes:
– Nargles. The evil, tiny-winged demons haunt Xenophilius in his sleep, trying to spirit away his pleasant dreams and replace them with horrid ones. Nargles, you see, are little thieves, and steal all kinds of things. He knows that if Nargles swarm another person, that person is one hundred percent bad and not to be trusted under any circumstances.
– Intolerance. This is something Xeno doesn’t quite understand. What’s the reason for it all, anyway? Besides, most of those kinds of beliefs are caused by meddlesome Wrackspurts anyway.
– The mundane. It is boring, unexciting, and utterly lame. It never ceases to amaze Xenophilius how Muggles can stand living the way they do, in complete isolation from the fantastic.
– Nikolas Fletcher. Not only does the evil Gryffindor have the worst infestation of Nargles Xeno’s ever seen, but he hangs around Lilura too much for his liking. Xeno is convinced that Niko and his gang of Nargles are trying to steal his wife.
– Slytherins. Not only do they have Wrackspurts swarming them whenever they move, but they are nasty on principle and tend to be cold to Xeno. He doesn’t appreciate this.
– The Dark Lord. Xenophilius is under the impression that the Dark Lord is the, in his own words, “the creepiest little bugger” he’s ever seen. Or, heard of, anyway.
– Blood purity. Being a pureblooded wizard himself, Xeno is a bit of a hypocrite. His only quip about purebloods is that many are intolerant and the rest are pompous. He likes to exclude himself from the mix, but, really, can sound a bit arrogant when discussing his own family’s accomplishments.
– Getting wet. It’s just a little pet peeve of his. He hates the feeling of wet clothes on him. He doesn’t mind showering or bathing, of course, as it is a necessity. But getting wet in his clothes? He hates that.
– The Daily Prophet and Tabloids. Both are nasty competition for The Quibbler, stealing all its business with their incessant chatter about nonsensical, silly, boring things that everyone practically already knows or doesn’t want to know about.
– Being called Phil. The only person who can do that and get away with it is Lilura. If anyone else tries? He’ll hex the unfortunate soul.
– Getting dressed up. He would take comfort over fashion any day.

History:

Mother: Adsila Luciana Gandergin.
Father: Lorcan Calum Lovegood.
Brother: Xavier Panfilo Lovegood.

& t h e F A M i L Y

Renowned for their prominence in the publishing and journaling field, the Lovegoods found their way into the world somewhere around the dawn of the first century. An affluent and powerful king in England had a knight by the name of Goode; this knight was a friend of the king and often was his right hand man in battles and the like, but, more so, Sir Goode was a lady’s man. He charmed them with his intellect, knowledge of fantastical beasts, and little girlish spells he would perform on flowers to make them sparkle or women’s teeth to make them straight and rid of cavities. Women loved him. For this reason, on the eve of his own wedding to the local enchantress, Neridia, the king assigned Goode his new name: Lovgoode, (which was bad English for Lovegood, its common derivation). Thus, Neridia and Goode started the Lovegood clan, a future breed of powerful wizards and witches fraught with eccentricities so similar to Goode’s own (and Neridia’s, as would later be proven during their hundred year marriage).

Eleven centuries later, the great-great-great-etc. descendants of the original Lovgoodes found themselves living alongside prominent wizarding families in Europe and competing with them in various tourneys and such. The most prestigious of these was the Red Radish Tourney, taking place in Austria (a large exporter of radishes). Nicknamed RRT, the tourney awarded the winning participant and his subsequent family with the title of Best Wizarding Family in Europe. So, naturally, everyone wanted to participate. Why call it the RRT, you say? Well, as the legend goes, the very first RRT, held in the B.C. era, was a competition between two young wizards who held day jobs as farmers. They wanted to see who could magically grow a radish the fastest, and soon, this became a local festivity. Other farmers started coming from other parts of the country to watch, and then, finally, farmers from other parts of the world came, and that’s when they decided to make it a national competition and change up the challenges (to things such as conjuring a protection spell before you get blasted with dragonfire, or saving yourself from drowning, or hanging, or various other hideous life-threatening challenges). However, the name stuck.

Anyway, back to the Lovgoodes. The patriarch of the family at this time was called Panfilo, and his wife, and matriarch, Eira. Panfilo caught wind of this competition and dragged his wife and three children along to compete in it and to defend the Lovgoode name (from what, no one knows, but you didn’t mess with Panfilo when he had his mind set on something). There were certain strengths and abilities required for certain challenges of the RRT, and, unfortunately, none of these Panfilo possessed. However, he was determined to at least enter, and enter he did. Now, Panfilo was a good man. A good farmer. A good father. A good husband, even. But if there was one thing he was not good at, it was wizarding. He enjoyed classifying magical creatures and using a bit of magic here and there to make his veggies sprout faster and fatter than his competitor’s, but, in all honesty, Panfilo had no business entering the RRT. Of this fact his wife constantly reminded him. Eira worried for his safety, for the tasks certainly weren’t safe, and, really, she was ten times the wizard -- err, witch -- he was. It was she who should be competing for the family. But women weren’t allowed to compete in the RRT for another two centuries, so she was forced, for his own good, to put him under the Imperius curse and perform the tasks for him.

Naturally, she won. But never after that experience did the Lovegoods participate in another RRT. Panfilo learned of his wife’s ploy and refused to be subjected to such a degrading situation again, and told his sons and his sons’ sons’ to keep away from the tourney. This he did not need to do, for the RRT was disbanded fifty years after he participated on account of the first death and the investigation of the newly formed Ministry of Magic. Even though they won through shady means, the Lovegoods wore their victory at the RRT as a badge of pride and honor, and their youngest member, Xenophilius, wears red radish cufflinks in reverence to this achievement (and secretly supports the underground RRT restoration movement along with his father and various other family members). Xenophilius is directly descended from Panfilo and his second-born son, Cinaed. Cinaed Lovegood was alive during the turbulent times of the thirteenth century and lived incongruously in Ireland for most of his life. It was he who began The Quibbler, a newspaper/magazine for witches and wizards to keep up on the rumors circulating around the incessant wars of the time.

Cinaed was the first writer of the family and enjoyed every bit of it. He married Muiread, a Scottish noblewoman and prosperous editorial writer of The Quibbler. Muiread began writing the sections on scandals of the 1200s and supposedly extinct or fake magical beings. She was positively obsessed with capturing a nargle; her last words, even, went something along these lines: “Continue the hunt for the nargle, my son,” she said, to her oldest boy, Calum, who was an aspiring writer as well. And this Calum took to heart. He continued The Quibbler and devoted it to the bizarre, strange, and illogical -- all the things his mother adored. It kept going this way for centuries, event to his great-great-great-etc. grandson, Lorcan. Lorcan married the illustrious Adsila, a lovely botanist with a potion shop in her basement. Lorcan and Adsila carried on with The Quibbler and the nargle quest and had two sons, Xavier and Xenophilius, respectively. Xenophilius was particularly obsessed with the hunt for nargles and crumple-horned snorkacks, and shared this enthusiasm with his friends, making his family proud (and probably good ol’ Goode and Neridia up in the sky).

&& t h e B O Y

Adsila Gandergin and Lorcan Lovegood were soul-mates.
Adsila Gandergin and Lorcan Lovegood were destined for one another.
Adsila Gandergin and Lorcan Lovegood were forbidden to wed.

The Gandergins, a resectable and wealthy pureblood family, crushed the unique. They squashed the different. They murdered the independent. In short, they were a horridly boring family with even more horridly boring outlooks on life and even more ridiculously boring offspring. The Gandergins were boring. They were plain. They were conventional. And it was from this family that Adsila came. Adsila, with the wild, wiry blonde hair. Adsila, with the tinkling laugh and high-pitched voice. Adsila, who never walked, but skipped. Adsila, who was, frankly, insane. At least, in her family’s eyes. They’d known she was different when she was born breach – this was unconventional, was it not? Adsila’s mother could hardly believe that after three perfectly normal children prior to Adsila she would have to suffer such an unconventional, horrid birth with an... an abnormal child? The horror! She’d fainted straightaway after the delivery, and the Healers at St. Mungo’s had to take care of her mewling babe until the rest of the family could be bothered to come and meet her (they had all fallen asleep in the waiting area, as the birth had taken all night). The Gandergins, appropriately all clad in gray, eyed the child with a sort of disdain in light of the fact of how she’d been born. Nevertheless, she was theirs and they couldn’t just leave her there, so they took her home with them after her mother was revived and adorned her with various shades of gray.

She looked horrid in them, too. And as she grew, Adsila began to absolutely despise the color gray. It was ugly and plain and boring and terrible. And she vowed that one day she would never wear it again. Attending Hogwarts was a welcome relief. Being sorted into Ravenclaw, she could at least wear another shade. With black. Another color she hated but... at least there was a hint of blue on her robes. She often accessorized with various blue adornments such as headbands and jewelry in order to bring out more color, more vibrance. And this vibrance was exactly what attracted Lorcan Lovegood, in her year and house, to her unpredictable and flavorful self. She and Lorcan began their relationship in fourth year, when she was fourteen and he just barely fifteen, and stayed together without ever parting until their seventh year. When they graduated from Hogwarts, Adsila and Lorcan had designs to marry. Except... except that the Gandergins would hear nothing of it, as the Lovegoods had a reputation for being unwaveringly, annoyingly, unbelievably abnormal. And there was no way in hell that the Gandergins were going to associate themselves with the Lovegoods and their baggage. No way. So, Adsila and Lorcan realized they had no other option than to elope. And elope they did. They fled to France and were married in the vibrant, floral countryside by a kindly old priest who fully understood their situation and welcomed them into his parish with open arms.

Having been wed, the two decided it was best to return to England, for Lorcan had The Quibbler to run, and, soon, a baby to raise. They lingered in France for a few weeks after their union, reluctant to return to Adsila’s turbulent familial situation, but, eventually, turned back, for they knew they couldn’t hide from the Gandergins forever. When they returned, the family shunned them. Adsila’s things were left out on the curb and were being picked over by various passers-by until she shooed them away, collected her property, and moved in with Lorcan. The Lovegoods, being the absolute antithesis of the Gandergins, welcomed Adsila happily into their family and treated her as if she were one of their own. She and Lorcan lived happily in his parent’s comfortable countryside dwelling for a few months, just until Lorcan could save up enough to purchase his own home. Which he did, though it was small, right on the outskirts of London. It was a small, stone cottage with a medium lawn and three bedrooms – perfect for their slowly growing family. A few weeks after they’d moved in, Adsila went into labor, and Lorcan frantically escorted her to St. Mungo’s in a sort of dumbstruck fervor. He did not leave her side for the entire process and held her hand throughout the most of it (though this, in retrospect, proved to be a bad idea, as she nearly broke his fingers). His mother and father were there as well, performing a ritual that supposedly brought good luck in birth to both mother and child by dancing around the hospital bed and sprinkling Heliopath essence all over her body.

And, call that insane, but it appears to have been useful, as the birth was speedy and, thankfully, both Adsila and her new son, soon dubbed Xavier, were both unharmed. Lorcan was ecstatic to have a son, for he’d always wanted one to carry on The Quibbler for him when he became too senile for it, and rejoiced with his family for days afterwards. When they’d all returned to the cottage after Adsila was discharged, Lorcan set up the baby’s room with even more decorations of Heliopaths and Snorkacks and settled the tiny boy into bed, where Adsila sung him to sleep following Lorcan’s story about the adventures of Zozo the Crumple Horned-Snorkack. Things went on like this for quite some time, happily, carefree, and well... until it became clear that little Xavier was a Squib. He was now five years old and had yet to show any signs of magical development... and the worst part? He didn’t have The Gift. Xavier couldn’t see what his parents and the rest of the Lovegoods could see. He was... incapable. Adsila was devastated in her own way, but Lorcan... he was lost. His hopes, his dreams, his wishes for a son to carry on his legacy, to carry on The Quibbler were all shot to heck. Because he was stuck with a Squib. Not that he didn’t love his little boy, no, that wasn’t it... he just was disappointed. So he left for a day or so, traveled to France to walk the countryside and to collect himself. He traveled to the same parish he and Adsila had gotten married in, visited the kindly priest. He asked the priest for advice, telling him that his first son was... lacking in some areas (Lorcan would have been honest but he didn’t want to frighten the poor muggle). The priest looked him square in the eye and told him to try again, but to always love his first child, even for all his imperfections.

Renewed, Lorcan bid the priest farewell and hustled back to his wife. He told her the good news, that there was still hope, and that they should try for another child. To which Adsila responded that there was no need, for she discovered she was pregnant shortly after he’d departed. Lorcan had never been happier. He’d scooped Adsila up in his arms, twirled her around, and had lived for the next nine months as if in a dream. When Adsila went into labor, his parents didn’t even have to perform the Heliopath ritual. The birth was even swifter and cleaner than the first, and Adsila knew there was something good about her second son. She christened him Xenophilius, after Lorcan’s father, and Lorcan awarded him with the middle name ‘Cinaed’ in the hopes that by invoking the spirit of the first great writer of the Lovegood family Xeno would turn out to be just like him. And, as it so happened, this seemed to work. Xeno’s first word was ‘schrofawk’ and while that doesn’t sound like a word... both Lorcan and Adsila knew what he meant to say was ‘snorkack’ and were immensely proud of him. Xeno could spot Heliopaths by the time he was two and was hunting for nargles when he’d reached three. His parents were so unswervingly proud of him and doted on him as if he was their only child... unwittingly and unintentionally ostracizing their other son, Xavier. Xavier, chagrined at being ignored, initially hated his brother, playing pranks on him and making fun of him whenever he could. But Xeno had faith in his brother and loved him through all the teasing, going so far as to encourage it. Hey, if that was how his brother got out his angst, there was nothing Xeno could do about it. Might as well help it along.

Eventually, Xavier came to his senses and reconciled with his brother, just before he went out and about on his own. He felt his place was among the muggles, being one of them, and worked alongside them with a happy disposition, finally feeling like he belonged somewhere. He traveled to Germany on some matter of business and met a lovely German witch by the name of Lenka Brandt. She inspired him to rejoin the magical world with her, and the two moved back to England where they set up permanent residence in the countryside, taking a train to London everyday to work in their pawn shop in Diagon Alley (they sold odds and ends that people traded in for a few sickles, mostly useless things but they still had enough customers to stay open). Adsila and Lorcan weren’t really pleased with their son’s choice of a wife, as Lenka didn’t really approve of the Lovegood’s ‘insanity’ streak, but they decided that if she was good enough for their son she was good enough for them. Xenophilius was particularly pleased with this, as was Xavier, and visited his brother’s shop very often to purchase items for his senseless contraptions. When he was eleven he was invited to Hogwarts, at the pleasure of his family, and was sorted into Ravenclaw. Again, at the pleasure of his family, who had been Ravenclaws since the medieval era when Hogwarts began.

For now, he’s happy and carefree and has met the girl of his dreams, Lilura Liridon. And, with his Snorkacks, Fife and Filo, and his cat, Belius, Xeno’s got it all.


Sample Post: Pretty please refer to my posts as Priscilla, Alice, and Regulus? :3

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And Finally - -

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.

[Andromeda Black]

ACCEPTED (: