caradoc DEARBORN

[doc]

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About You - -

Name: Oreo.
Gender: Femme fatale.
Age: Fifteen years.
Years of RPG Experience: About five years.
Other: [Removed by Staff]

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Quick Quiz - -

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What about ISS inspired you to join? The amazing members, RPs and activity.
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About the Character- -

Name: Caradoc Dante Dearborn.
Age: Fifteen years old.
Gender: Male.
Year: Fourth, going into fifth.
Face Claim: Ben Barnes.

Canon or Original? Canon.

Facial Properties:
Caradoc is unmistakably his parents’ son, and one will easily note this upon registering the boy’s appearance, his facial features in particular. Like both his parents, Caradoc possesses a long face, though its general shape has more in common with his father’s; strong, rectangular frame, tapering into a chiseled, triangular jaw, and ending with a square, dimpled chin. The strength of his face is made sharper by his high, defined cheek bones which really create his long, bony appearance. Doc’s lips are reasonably full for a male body, but his habit of pursing them often makes them appear much thinner than they actually are. His nose is more in common with his mother’s, because although both Mr. and Mrs. Dearborn share commonly long, thin noses, the tip of Mrs. Dearborn’s nose is horizontal to the rest of her face while her husband’s turns up at an angle slightly. However, Caradoc’s eyes follow suit with the majority of his facial features in taking up the paternal share of his genes; a dark brown in shade with an almost constant emotion of intensity causing them to sometimes seem black. Young Dearborn’s brows aren’t quite as patent as either of his parent’s, but the slight frown which is always worn by them puts them more in common with his father. Then Doc’s hair is akin to his mother’s more than his father’s, for it is a dark shade of brown, but doesn’t possess the blackness of his father’s; Caradoc’s dark hair has the effect of emphasizing his pale, almost pasty skin. In general, Caradoc has a rather handsome face, though his good looks are overshadowed by the cold, unapproachable expression it almost always wears, which can either strengthen or weaken his good looks depending on the observer’s taste in character. Beauty is, as they say, in the eye of the beholder.
Physique:
Much of Caradoc’s physical attributes, as one will probably gather by now, are more in common with his father’s than his mother’s. You can certainly see Wendy Dearborn in her son of course, but upon first glance, Doc looks more like Dylan Dearborn in general. So, like his father, Caradoc is tall and thin with a medium sized frame. Caradoc, like Dylan, is neither willowy nor broad-shouldered in frame, but somewhere in between, though Doc does seem smaller than his dad in structure despite the fact that they are the same height. This boils down to the fact that Caradoc is a thin boy, and his often gaunt face is the best indicator of his health status in terms of weight. Doc is a boy who has a bad habit of forgetting to eat. He usually doesn’t feel hunger pangs like most individuals do, and only eats when he really has to; a.k.a. when his stomach muscles start cramping up. When it comes to food, trying to get it down Caradoc’s throat is often like drawing blood from a stone. Hogwarts has helped him with this problem a bit because the food is of a very high standard, and there is a wide variety of dishes always on offer. All the same, Doc still doesn’t have a big appetite, and at times his friends have to almost drag him down to the Great Hall; his argument is that he dislikes the fact that house-elves are treated practically like slaves in order to put food on the table for the ungrateful masses, but people who know Caradoc well probably know that Doc doesn’t really care much about the welfare of house-elves seeing as their squeaky voices irritate him so much. But despite the fact that Doc eats about a mouse’s portion of food, he does have muscle tone, and his fondness of activity has helped build this up over the years. Caradoc is a very fit individual, and although he covers up his slim body with many layers of clothing (muscles don’t insulate you much, after all) and his muscularity isn’t defined enough to be seen under such a style of attire, you wouldn’t want to cross him in a fight; Doc packs quite a punch for a skinny bloke, and he can run like a fish can swim.

Wand Type: 10 ¾ inches, hawthorn wood, cockatrice feather core.
Wand Expertise: Good with duels, transfiguration, defense against the dark arts, and curses.
Patronus: Tasmanian Tiger.
Boggart: Gunn Hermann.

Personality:
Normality isn’t exactly a word which can be attributed to Caradoc Dearborn without some kind of protest by a person who knows the boy’s character. But then again, what is normality? Any adjective can be debatable as to who they are describing depending on the person describing them, but the generic meaning of normal to most people would be a personality balance of good and bad, with mellow preferences which are rarely extreme in the public’s eye. Certainly, one could say that Caradoc was anything but a normal Hufflepuff, and the majority of people who know him are a little surprised that he is not a Ravenclaw, or even a Slytherin student, but Doc is none the less a badger. So what makes Caradoc Dearborn such an abnormal individual, certainly in respects to his house placement? Well, to start with, Caradoc is the sort of person one wouldn’t want to be partnered up with, whether it be a school project or someone to sit next to on public transport. He has the general air of a misanthrope, for his face habitually wears an expression of cold bluntness which is seemingly quite emotionless, but in fact plays a subtle diorama of sentiments which are often negative in nature. To many, Caradoc appears to be the unapproachable snob who is more in common with the pureblood upper-classes, but such an assumption is anything but true. Being a halfblood and son of a muggleborn is something Caradoc prides himself with, and a more accurate description of the boy would be that he is a blunt individual who uses an aloof exterior in order to keep the majority of people away from him; especially the happy-go-lucky types who confuse Caradoc with his need to like them and despise them at the same time. Caradoc is a judgmental person who prefers to make the first move in any relationship by studying them from afar first, and then making a formal introduction later. Some may call him a conceited arse from his strange, distant attitude to people and life in general, but such an attitude suits Caradoc just fine in the main part, though it can restrict him at times. To put it frankly, Caradoc is a very honest person who doesn’t hold back in voicing his views. This can make him seem rude and callous, but Doc can’t stand for people tip-toeing round subjects like some kind of mouse round a sleeping cat, for he finds it both patronizing and cowardly. Strong morals and beliefs are what Caradoc has, and he admires those who stand up for their own philosophies, whether they be in line with his or not; Dearborn does like a fight, physical or verbal.

So now we move onto another aspect of Caradoc’s nature which seems to stride hand in hand with his brusque style; his bravery. Being the sort of person to speak his mind freely, especially if what is on his mind can be shocking to others takes a lot of guts to pull off while still holding your head high, which Doc always tries to do. Caradoc really does have the courage to stand up for what he has faith in, and although this scorches many people for Doc truly doesn’t hold back when he lets rip, it does protect the honour of others. These so called ‘others’ are who you could call Caradoc’s friends, and although there aren’t very many of these ‘friends’, what there are of them, Caradoc protects with his life. Doc isn’t blind to his short comings and is very aware of what a difficult person he can be, so he values the people who have the patience to like him and be kind to him, so long as they aren’t condescending, of course. Despite his rather frosty outer appearance, Caradoc is a loyal boy who can be quite affectionate when it comes down to it. He does hurt those he loves at times with his forthright speaking habits, but he always tries to make it up to them in some way if he feels it is necessary, which it usually is; being a studier of peoples’ characters comes in useful here for he can find the appropriate means of apologizing without asking, for the most part, anyway. However, at times, Caradoc’s aloof nature hinders him from divulging his emotions to people, even those he holds dear, for despite being able to express his principles with ease, the more personal aspects of his persona can cause utter discomfort in the boy. His pride can get in the way at times, and his need to be a strong individual makes him shy away from showing his more delicate emotions. Doc has a fear of opening up to people, partly because he doesn’t trust easily and has a slight paranoia that they will use personal information against him, which is true in some cases. But such a fear has caused him to suppress a lot of what he views as his ‘weaker’ feelings, which are often just as passionate as the rest of him. This bottling up process causes him to explode at times into a frenzy of anger, grief and frustration, and while this is both painful for him and those around him, Caradoc seems to prefer such outbursts to tender conversations about ‘feelings’.

Although Caradoc prefers to speak as frankly as one can, he does, none the less, have a sense of humour. Though he seems a humourless individual to most, Caradoc has the capabilities of laughing and making others chortle. It is rare to ever see the commonly stony-faced boy smiling, let alone laughing, but it has been known for the boy to have a good chuckle from time to time. And Caradoc can be quite witty at times, but his sense of humour is just as candid as the rest of his conversational form, and the dark, morbid sides of comedy entertain him more than the slap-stick. Caradoc is an artist when it comes to creating awkward silences among people for his often outrageous personal views can turn a person’s mind into a desolate wasteland as to what to say in response, and such moments of discomfort around groups of people, most of whom Caradoc will dislike in some way, satisfies him. Doc sees a lot of people as self-righteous, naïve idiots who deserve to be taken down a peg or two, and while such efforts to put such people down can end up in the odd scuffle or angered muttering and gossip, Caradoc really couldn’t care less about the rumours which surround him, and any black eyes gained he wears with pride. Some would say Caradoc was a fool looking for a fight, and in some ways, they’re right. Doc does enjoy combat for it releases the anger which always bubbles up inside him, and it is true that Caradoc isn’t the sharpest tool in the tool shed, but he certainly isn’t an idiot. Not a complete one, at any rate. Doc is good at some things, and not at others like everybody is, but even in subjects he finds difficult, Caradoc always tries his best. One thing Caradoc definitely is, is a hard worker, and despite the fact that he doesn’t always get the best grades in some academic subjects, it could never be said that he didn’t do his best. And such subjects he finds challenging like Astronomy or Arithmancy, Caradoc will work in his own free time to improve his understanding of the subjects, even if he knows he won’t ever fully understand them. Caradoc is a good problem solver in some respects, and his habit of observing things certainly contributes to this characteristic. He is a determined boy who rarely ever takes no for an answer, and while some may call him stubborn, he thinks having your heart set on something is better than having no ambition at all; it takes all the drama out of life.

Though Caradoc tries to make himself out to be the steadfast, determined young man that in some ways he is, there is instability about the boy. This is most obvious when it comes to his passionate outbursts after his heart cannot fit anymore suppressed emotions, but this volatility lies deeper than just a bad habit of bottling up emotions. Caradoc is, in all honesty, mentally ill. This doesn’t mean to say he should be sectioned on sight, or that he will one day become a brutal serial killer, but Caradoc was born with an unsteady brain. Doc is a diagnosed bi-polar, and while he takes the necessary medication, he doesn’t escape the vivid emotions which the condition brings. Not many people know about Dearborn’s condition as he rarely tells anyone due to his trust issues, and while the majority probably passes off his remote behavior as him being a moody so and so, those who watch him closely like his friends and loved ones know there is something emotionally wrong with him or at least suspect so. One week, he can be reasonably average, laughing more often, smiling on occasion and seeming generally happier and at peace; happier than usual, at any rate. Then others he is as quiet as a dormouse, rarely speaking unless spoken to and usually in some negative response, and his eyes hold a dullness which is almost painful to look at. Then sometimes in a manic state of mind, he just gets angry and aggressive which is, in a way, worse than his depression. A kind of lack of self-preservation comes over him, and Doc will pick a fight with just about anyone, seeming to find some kind of pleasure in aggravating others. He is like a fifteen year old incarnation of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, being as calm and rather dislikable as ever, and then antagonistic and unstable the next. In all, Caradoc Dearborn is a person to watch for he can both be your best friend or your worst enemy; it just depends upon how he judges your character and whether he likes the verdict or not.

Likes:
+ Intelligence
+ Independence
+ Grace
+ Wit
+ Horror films
+ Muggles
+ Homer Dearborn
+ The Rolling Stones
+ Jimi Hendrix
+ The Who
+ Reading
+ Working
+ Transfiguration
+ Care of Magical Creatures
+ Herbology
+ Defense Against the Dark Arts
+ Gothic novels
+ Dueling
+ Out smarting other
+ Making others awkward
+ Laughing
+ Solitude
+ The Ring Cycle
+ Bach
+ Liszt
+ Debussy
+ Walking
+ Rain
+ Bacon
+ Beans
+ Maturity
+ Cheese
Dislikes:
– Ignorance
– Divination
– Sadism
– Injustice
– Whining voices
– Manic-depression
– Cowardice
– Gunn Hermann
– Romantic novels or movies
– Incense
– Liquorish
– Caramel Apples
– Strawberry ice-cream
– White chocolate
– Being out smarted
– Dylan and Wendy Dearborn
– Being depressed
– Lack of humour
– Valentine’s
– Being patronized
– Boredom
– House-elves’ voices
– Eating
– Hay fever
– Immaturity

History:
The story of Caradoc Dearborn truthfully starts forty years before the birth of this said Dearborn with the birth of his father, Dylan Horatio Dearborn. Dylan was born into a middle-class, pureblood wizarding family, the second child of Walter and Elizabeth Dearborn. The young family of now four lived in a detached house in Essex, where the quartet was joined by another member of the family two years after Dylan’s birth by a younger sister. Life was happy and comfortable for the Dearborn’s, with Walt working in London as a Goblin Liaison Officer, and Effy building up her career at home as a house-wife by bringing up the children and caring for the family home. Dylan, his older brother Homer, and younger sister Millicent were a handful for Effy, but the three children got on relatively well; as well as young children can. There was the odd scuffle, and tears were shed from time to time, but Effy held her ground the majority of the time, and when she couldn’t, Walt would step in with his paternal authority. The years passed, and the three Dearborn children’s personalities began to shine through. Homer was quite clearly in command of his other two siblings, and was the most charismatic out of the three, for he had an aura of charm and wit which was attractive to most people. Dylan was quieter than his brother, but had an equally strong character in his own way; he had a brooding intensity which reminded Effy of her own father, Kaleb Jackson. While Homer was the humourous older brother, and Dylan the thoughtful intellectual, Millicent, or Millie as she preferred to be known, was the generally good-natured, but passionate daughter whom Effy shared most affinity with. Mother and daughter bonded like only such people can, and both shared the same characteristics of humble diligence, a kind heart, and a strong will. Though young Millie loved the more feminine things in life, like her mother, she enjoyed the charms the life of having two older brothers brought; she would participate in the rough and tumble, and arduous quests the boys would perform, and her strength of mind was merely increased by the arguments she was inevitably get into with her male siblings. The Dearborn’s were contented with what they had, materially and emotionally wise and it was only in the children’s teens that things became more complex, but they always do, don’t they?

Meanwhile, to the far west of Essex, in Pembrokeshire, Wales, a mere year after Dylan Dearborn was born; Austen and Brynn Isaacs were blessed with their first child, a daughter whom they named Wendy Lilith Isaacs. The proud new parents adored their gorgeous baby daughter, and while they didn’t live in the best accommodation, and didn’t have the luxuries other people did, the small family was happy. Austen had taken ownership of Brynn’s family’s grocery store, which doubled up as the Isaacs’ family home, and while they didn’t earn a fortune from the business, they never ran out of costumers as they provided all the fruit and vegetables for the little fishing town in which they lived. About eighteen months after Wendy was born, her little brother Eoin joined them. For the first four years of Wendy’s life, the Isaacs lead a normal, working class muggle family, but a couple of months after Wendy’s third birthday, strange things began to occur around the girl. It happened first when little Eoin was trying to fetch a book down from his father’s book shelf. He’d climbed up the shelf ledges like they were rungs on a ladder and was tottering a few feet off the ground as he reached up for the book he was searching for; an old natural history book whose pictures fascinated the curious little boy. Wendy, luckily, walked into the room just at the right moment as Eoin’s precarious came to a disastrous end when he fell, uttering a yelp as he did. But no body hit the floor. In fact, nothing hit the floor, and when Brynn came running in to investigate the cause of the short, sharp screech, she found out why; Eoin was suspended in mid-air, about two feet off the ground. After the initial shock of the sight of her son floating in mid-air had passed and she’d managed to bring herself to plucking her shocked son from the air and holding him in her arms did Brynn initially think that it was Eoin himself who had caused such an unbelievable feat to occur, but she soon brushed such an idea off as nonsense. She then thought it was some miracle conducted by the Almighty, but her husband put a stop to that idea before it could bloom; Austen had been born a Jew, but had lost his faith after his father had died of lung cancer. It was only when strange events transpired again in Wendy’s presence that the Isaac’s realized it was their daughter who caused the unexplained to take place; this time she caused some dying flowers to blossom back into their full glory in a matter of seconds. The Isaacs didn’t parade their daughter’s apparent supernatural powers to their community, and neither did they lock her away in some secret room in the house, never to be seen again, but they warned her not to show others her abilities for both Austen and Brynn knew such things could and would frighten their friends and neighbours. They themselves loved their daughter as much as ever, and although Brynn did kick up a fuss about Wendy seeing a doctor, Austen was always there to sooth his wife with his logical mind; whether or not Wendy’s powers had been bestowed upon her by some higher power, she certainly wasn’t sick and her powers showed no sign of causing others harm. So, for another six years or so, life continued in the Isaacs household with relative normality until a certain strangely dressed and bearded man appeared on their doorstep on the eve of Wendy’s eleventh birthday. His name was Albus Dumbledore, and he was from Hogwarts, a school for people like Wendy, a school for witches and wizards, a school which Wendy was invited to. It took quite a lot of convincing on Dumbledore’s part, for Austen Isaacs was a kind man, but one who stuck fast to his beliefs, and those beliefs did not include the belief in the existence of magic. But in the end, Austen and Brynn saw the truth and were assured that this Professor Dumbledore was no trickster; he fixed a long broken china plate of Brynn’s without touching a shard in order to prove it. So in the September, Wendy Isaacs was waving her parents goodbye as they disappeared into the fog as the Hogwarts Express pulled away from Platform 9 ¾.

She was sorted into Hufflepuff, and as the time passed Wendy discovered she was a very talented which. And as she adjusted into magical life with relative ease, in the year above her, a certain Ravenclaw by the name of Dylan Dearborn was flourishing in student life. But it was not in the halls and corridors of Hogwarts that Dylan Dearborn and Wendy Isaacs met; that was to come much later. Sure, they had heard one another’s names in passing but had taken very little notice of them. So school life brought their joys and their woes as they will do with any student. They experienced love and hatred, commendation and detention, and both graduated with more than ample grades. It wasn’t long before both had flown their separate coops and bought themselves small properties in London for both had ambitions for careers which would require them to use England’s capital city as their base. Dylan took up training to be a curse-breaker for Gringotts Bank while Wendy furthered her education in History of Magic in order to become a historian for the Ministry of Magic. And it was through a connection in the Ministry that Dylan and Wendy had first met; that connection? Homer Kaleb Dearborn. Homer had taken up a vocation as an obliviator in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and it just so happened that whilst crossing the Atrium of the Ministry, he had spotted a pretty young woman struggling with a pile of paperwork that was practically two times the size of her. Being the kind-hearted soul as ever, and also somewhat of a ladies’ man (or so he liked to thought), Homer trotted over and caught the teetering pile as Wendy Isaacs uttered a curse in thinking the pile would fall to the marble floor in a flurry of papers. A conversation was obviously struck between the two as Homer helped young Miss. Isaacs with her files in taking them to her office cubicle, for Wendy was a sweet, polite girl who appreciated the kind gesture. And so, with the ‘date’ at the Leaky Cauldron which followed, a friendship was formed; Homer did feel physically attracted to the pretty historian, but it was clear to him that Wendy did not think of his kindness in that way, and having been brought up a gentlemen prohibited him from forcing feelings upon her. Besides, office romances had a knack of getting complicated. So, as time passed, Homer and Wendy’s friendship strengthened, for their personalities complemented one another, and both found one another’s presence pleasing; Homer would tease Wendy, and Wendy would tease him back, and they would discuss the topics of the day rather animatedly in the Ministry cafeteria. Then, one day, Homer invited Wendy to his apartment for dinner. They had done such things before, and in no way had it ever been romantic; just a meal as friends. However, this dinner was different, and Wendy knew that. Homer’s brother and sister were to attend, whom Wendy had never met. She was a little apprehensive at first, for Wendy had always been a little self-conscious and the thought of meeting Homer’s siblings brought out the shyness in her. But Homer would have none of it and assured the bashful historian that Dylan and Millie would love her. He couldn’t possibly anticipate how right he was. The dinner was held and the strangers introduced to one another, and Wendy found herself liking the other two Dearborn’s. Millie was as happy and humourous as her eldest brother, and her warm nature drew Wendy in just as much as Homer’s had done. Dylan however, was a different story. He was different from his other siblings; more reserved and with a clearer depth. He rarely spoke and acted more soberly than the other two, and despite acting rather aloof, there was a kindness in his brown eyes which was in common with his more lively siblings. He intrigued Wendy, and the historian found herself sneaking glances more at the middle Dearborn than she did at the other two, and when the embarrassing moment occurred when Dylan would silent catch her looking at him, Wendy’s cheeks would turn as pink as a beetroot and her pale hazel eyes would dart away to some other object in the room. Nobody knew that romance was blossoming that night, for although neither Dylan nor Wendy was aware of it, both were beginning to feel attracted to one another. The next few days after the dinner, Wendy couldn’t stop thinking about the quiet, handsome, dark haired man at Homer’s dinner table, and images of his pale face haunted her dreams for many nights. Dylan was the same, though he only showed such a change in thought by distancing himself further from the world; he was quieter, if possible, but he found it difficult to concentrate on his work, which almost ended with catastrophic consequences when he almost set off a booby-trap on one particular assignment.

But Wendy and Dylan weren’t to meet again for another month, by accident in Flourish and Blott’s. Seeing him again sent Wendy’s heart aflutter, and she was just about to disgrace herself by automatically calling out her name when Dylan spotted her. The pair struck up a rather awkward conversation, which lead to them picking up a butterbeer in the Leaky Cauldron. One thing lead to another, and Dylan ended up asking Wendy out; Wendy obviously obliging, though trying not to choke on her butterbeer as she spluttered out an immediate, and rather over-enthusiastic yes. Despite being uncomfortable at first, the Wendy and Dylan hit it off, and what followed could only be described as a whirl-wind romance. They discovered very quickly their love for one another, and although they’re personalities didn’t exactly match, they balanced one another; Wendy was warm and friendly, while Dylan seemed more morose and distant (of course, Wendy made Dylan extremely happy, though he still remained the ever brooding-faced man he ever was). Homer was upset of course upon discovering that his brother was in a relationship with his close friend, but he was happy for them, or at least tried to be happy for them. He could see that they were in love, and disrupting that bond would only destroy his relationship with his little brother and Miss. Isaacs. Millie was thrilled at the match, for she really did like Wendy, and in fact said to Dylan more than once she wouldn’t mind her as a sister-in-law, which always brought out what only could be described as a blush on her brother’s face; his brow would suddenly become shiny with sweat, and his cheeks would darken a little. And Millie’s wish was granted within eighteen months or so of Dylan and Wendy’s relationship, for her proposed to her on Valentine’s Day, and Wendy, quite expectedly, accepted. Within three months of the engagement, they were married and Wendy Isaacs was now Mrs. Wendy Dearborn. Both families were ever so happy for the Isaacs and Dearborn’s found one another very agreeable, though the Dearborn’s were a little hesitant in meeting the working-class Welsh muggle family, but Austen and Brynn’s cordial natures warmed Walt and Effy’s views of the un-magical family. Millie and Homer got on with Eoin too, though he was a lot shyer than his sister; they could see the good heart in the younger man none the less, and vice versa.

So the match was complete, and after a few months of married life, the new Mr. and Mrs. Dearborn purchased their first house together; a small cottage in North Yorkshire, near Whitby. Though it was quite far away from London, they had both agreed on buying a property in the country where, if they were to have any children, they could grow up in peace without the hustle and bustle of city life. They could always apparate or take the Floo Network to work, anyway. And it wasn’t very long before the Dearborn’s heard the pitter patter of tiny feet. Almost eight months after their marriage, Wendy found out she was pregnant. She was thrilled, of course, though Dylan took a little bit of convincing. He had always been a rather nervous man underneath his hard shell, and the thought of having a child of his own and being a father frightened him. Like most young parents, he feared about being a bad father to his offspring, but Wendy assured him that he would be the best father in the world. They had nine months to learn what was necessary, and besides, even the most prestigious parent had to start learning somewhere. Such reassurances brought excitement into Dylan’s heart, and both parents greatly anticipated the birth of their child. And the child came on the seventh of October, 1962. It was a baby boy, one graced with a shock of black hair and what would turn into brown eyes. He was the most beautiful thing Wendy and Dylan Dearborn had ever seen, and the rapturous new parents dubbed him Caradoc Dante Dearborn. Wendy couldn’t have been more comfortable as a mother, for although she was inexperienced, she had a natural way with children, and although she struggled at times, she coped with the bravery of Godric Gryffindor. Of course, Dylan was there to support her and surprised himself with how well he could deal with his young son, though he wasn’t around him as much as his mother due to working his job in order to provide for his family; Wendy had taken leave from her job in order to care for her son. The Dearborn’s were happy for Dylan’s job paid well and was enough so as not to need Wendy to work, and their family was always there to help out with little Caradoc. Both sets of parents adored their grandson, and Millie fell in love with her nephew upon first seeing him, and was like a second mother to him for Millie and Wendy got on well, though there was the odd sharp word between the two broody women but nothing serious. Homer however was a little more hesitant about the boy. Of course he loved his nephew and acted like a goofy uncle should; playing with Doc, teasing him and encouraging him to be cheeky and boyish. But there was a wound inside the eldest Dearborn sibling which stopped him from loving his nephew completely. The truth was Homer was in love with the child’s mother. Despite never forcing his feelings on Wendy from the day they met, such actions didn’t stop Homer from having feelings for Wendy. During the time they had gotten to know one another and become close friends, Homer had fallen deeply in love with Wendy, and despite allowing his brother to love and marry her without divulging his feelings, he still felt the pain of losing a love never had. But Homer kept his secret none the less for many, many years, and whenever he showed affection towards Wendy, she would merely think of it as the love of a friend and nothing more.

Aside from the secrets held within certain hearts of the Dearborn family, life continued with relative ease. Caradoc was a quiet child, but he seemed happy enough. He would laugh like other children his age, and had the curiosity that most little boys possessed which would often wear his mother’s nerves to no end. But there was a thoughtfulness to him which reminded Wendy of his father. In fact, a lot about young Caradoc was like his father, including his looks, and Wendy loved him all the more for it. However, as time progressed and Doc grew older, problems began to arise with the boy. He had shown his magical talent early on in his life at the age of two when he’d turned a garden slug which was attacking his mother’s favourite flowers into a butterfly, and he learnt to walk and talk very quickly, even taking up reading and writing very rapidly (though he wasn’t particularly good at it, but persevered all the same), so there was little problem with these early developments. What was the problem were his emotions and how he dealt with certain things. Caradoc had a tendency to lose his temper very easily, and despite working hard at things he found difficult like spelling and writing Z’s and S’s correctly he could lose his rag at times and fly into a passionate tantrum. At first his mother had suspected it was a symptom of the dreaded ‘Terrible Twos’ but these tantrums carried on long after he had passed from being a toddler into childhood. It was at this time that Caradoc’s strange behavior started to concern his parents greatly. For some of the time he could be the most well behaved child in the world; quiet, attentive and as polite as a curious young child can be. In fact, in those more docile of moods, he acted like a child far older than himself. And other times, he was like the spawn of the devil; throwing things, shouting, kicking and wearing a face of thunder. The Dearborn’s tried everything with him, including all the disciplines they could think of to the point of shutting him in his room with no supper and slapping the backs of his legs with a ruler (not sadistically, of course, but only perhaps a couple of sharp taps). Finally, Wendy persuaded her husband for them to seek help from a healer, as it was clear there was something wrong with the child or in the way they handled him, and when she discussed these mood swings with her own mothers, Brynn agreed with her daughter’s course of action. So, the young Dearborn family took a trip up to London to St. Mungo’s where they met with a certain Gunn Hermann, specialist in psychological healing. After a series of questions, many of which struck up snappy remarks from the five year old boy, Hermann came to the conclusion that Caradoc suffered from a form of ADHD. It was a relief for Wendy and Dylan to know what was wrong with their son, though they were upset of course at there being something wrong with him. But they were determined to bring up their son as best they could, and the medication Hermann prescribed was like a beacon of hope for the Dearborn’s; a beacon which soon went out. Doc’s mood swings did not improve, and his parents were drawing to their wits end. Dylan having a rather delicate temperament himself didn’t help for Caradoc’s tantrums tested Dylan’s patience until there was nothing left. Arguments between Dylan and Wendy became more frequent, and Wendy even took Caradoc to live with her parents in Pembrokeshire for a few days after one particularly dramatic row. But Dylan still loved his wife and son (though he was beginning to feel the first signs of resentment for the child), so these arguments were soon resolved, and another trip to St. Mungo’s was organized not long after Caradoc’s sixth birthday.

In this meeting, the Dearborn’s saw Gunn Hermann again. They told him how Caradoc seemed unresponsive to the medication, and after some more questioning of Caradoc and his parents, Hermann came up with a new diagnosis which sobered many of the hopes Wendy and Dylan held; Caradoc seemed to be suffering from manic-depression. Both parents knew such a condition was a lifelong thing and something which could not be cured, as far as they knew. Hermann assured them though that there were treatments available such as lithium medication and other, more extreme treatments, one of which caused a rift between the spouses; ECT, or electric shock treatment. Wendy took immediately against the idea, and although Dylan agreed with her outwardly and chose the lithium option along with his wife, his mind began to wonder towards the idea. He decided to himself that such measures could only be tried if this new medication didn’t work. So the Dearborn’s tried again with the lithium this time, and things did start to get better in the tantrum department. Caradoc’s fits of rage were not quite so passionate when he was under the lithium, but the treatment seemed to make him gloomier. Though things were better, there was still unrest in the Dearborn household, and Caradoc could feel a rift growing between him and his parents, his father in particular. While his mother still clearly loved him, but couldn’t fully understand him, Dylan seemed reluctant to even try and understand his son. He would always catch his father looking at him in a strange way like he was a curse he was trying to figure when he was working. Dylan tried to cover this up of course, but being a person who liked to work things out, being unable to work out what made his son tick unnerved him. He could never be truly empathetic towards his son, and although he felt deep down the necessary love any father should feel, he wasn’t very good at showing any true affection for Caradoc. And having inherited his father’s ability to figure out things, including people, Doc knew that most of the affection his father showed towards him was not real. At first this hurt Caradoc, but after many years of having such a strained and distant relationship with Dylan, he got used to it and just begrudged his father instead. And then something happened which would set Caradoc’s hatred for his father in stone for the rest of his life (so far).

At this point in the story, Caradoc was ten years old. He had been taking lithium for around four years, and for the most part it had helped with his condition; he wasn’t completely normal emotionally wise, but he was better than he had been. For the most part, he had been a good and obedient boy by taking his lithium, though sometimes he would resist for he was a little boy and taking his pills was something he disliked greatly and saw as a chore, which in reality, it was. But just after Doc turned ten years old, he decided to rebel and stop taking his medicine. His parents wouldn’t know of course, because he’d do it in secret for he knew his mother well enough to know how much such actions would distress her, if she knew of course. It wasn’t done out of spite or a craving to see his parents suffer, but Caradoc was just curious to see if the pills had any effect on him at all, and the way to find that out was to stop taking them. So he did, and the mood swings became more extreme again. His mania had become more violent than it had been when he was younger, partly because he had physically grown stronger, but there was so much pent up anger inside him at the frustration for his situation, for his parents weren’t the only ones to be upset by his condition. All Caradoc wanted was to be normal, and by not taking his pills he thought he would simply become an average child. He didn’t understand nor want to understand that it was something inside him which made him sick and not his medication. For six months this went on without his parents knowing that Doc wasn’t taking his medicine, and it was because of this lack of knowledge of this fact that Dylan did what he did. He thought the medication had stopped working, and when he and Wendy consulted Gunn Hermann again, Dylan was reminded by the ECT. He knew his wife’s views were still the same on the treatment, but things were getting desperate, so Dylan asked Hermann details about the treatment behind his wife’s back. The prospects looked good, and from what Hermann said, it all seemed relatively safe. So Dylan consented to the treatment without Wendy knowing, and the date was set for Caradoc. On the day of the treatment, in order to keep his wife still unsuspecting, Dylan arranged for her to go stay with friends, saying she deserved a break for a couple of days, which in truth she did. Wendy accepted, a little reluctantly however, but she was out of the way none the less. Dylan told his son they were going to St. Mungo’s for another consultation with Hermann, which Caradoc grudgingly went along with. It came as quite a nasty surprise when Caradoc was strapped down to a stretcher trolley with electrodes stuck to his bare skin and a slip of rubber stuffed in his mouth. He resisted at first, throwing himself into a tantrum, but his father soothed him with assurances that this was all going to help him get better. To this day, Doc has regretted having ever fallen for that line. He is still haunted by the memory of the pain which seared through him as the volts of electricity coursed through his body. The powerlessness of being unable to stop what was happening and the uncontrollable convulsions which riveted him. Hermann’s leering face fills his nightmares, and the seeds for the utter loathing he feels for his father at present were sown that day. The treatment didn’t help of course, not really. Caradoc was very subdued in the days following, but in a detached, unfocused sort of way. This worried his mother even more when she returned to find her son so dramatically changed. The truth soon came out when Doc had recuperated somewhat and Wendy came extremely close to filing for divorce, but her love for her husband and devotion to her family stopped her. Dylan promised he would never pull a stunt like that again, and even he could see that the docile Caradoc ECT created was only a ghost of a person. But however much he would apologize to his son, Caradoc would never forgive him, and after a while he just gave up trying to make the boy understand.

Just under a year after the ‘incident’, Caradoc received his letter from Hogwarts. By this point, he’d resumed taking his medicine and was back to his old self, well, he was darker in mood than he had been. Gloomy nature’s aside, Caradoc was looking forward to attending Hogwarts though he didn’t do much to show it apart from reading magical books more. His parents were excited as well, but just as anxious for they were concerned about Caradoc’s condition and how it would affect his school work and social life. But Caradoc himself assured them that all would be well and that he would cope as best he could. September the first finally came, and Doc was prepared with all his necessary equipment such as school robes, pewter cauldron, books and trunk. His mother went even as far as buying him a new broom although Caradoc persistently told her not to; he hated having his mother fuss over him, and her buying him an expensive broom made him feel sick with guilt at her having spent money on him. His sorting came and went, and Doc made his mother proud when informing her of his placement in Hufflepuff house, though he made it clear that most of the other members of his year seemed like a bunch of doe-eyed ninnies. It was clear from the word go that Caradoc wasn’t going to have a blossoming social life unless that were to include a hoard of enemies, but Doc was already learned in the ways of not caring what other people thought. People were fickle and idiotic, and there was hardly anyone in the student body who took Caradoc’s fancy in the way of being friends. But there were friendships formed, however rare they may have been, and while Doc didn’t have much of a social calendar he kept his spare time occupied with studies and a new hobby he discovered not far into his first year. This hobby was what he called ‘Investigative Studies’ and entailed Caradoc watching his peers and studying them in a detective/spy manner. Studying others through observing them was something Doc had always done for fun (he had been inspired by Sherlock Holmes in this habit, and had had an ambition to be an Auror or Hit-Wizard from an early age) but at school he took it rather more seriously, even going as far as writing down his various findings in a journal he’d received from Hermann as a way of ‘expressing his feelings’. The years passed and Caradoc seemed to be doing well at school for he was getting good grades, had a few friends, and appeared relatively happy in general. Family life stayed virtually the same in the Dearborn household with Caradoc still resenting his father, his mother still concerned for him, and his various other relatives such as Aunt Millie, Uncle Homer and Eoin, and both sets of grandparents offering their help. The only major incident occurred in Doc’s second year during the Christmas holidays when Homer got drunker than usual on the sherry, professed his love for Wendy and kissed her, and in doing so, upset the Christmas tree. Homer and Dylan subsequently had a chat, which turned into an argument which ended with Dylan cutting off ties with his older brother after Homer pushed his limits by bringing Caradoc’s ‘incident’ into the argument. This was a blow to Caradoc, for he and his paternal uncle got on very well to the point that Doc felt like Homer understood him more than anyone else did. Doc still keeps in contact with his uncle even if his father doesn’t through letter and occasional secret meetings in Hogsmeade during the school term. Aside from the odd family and school tiff, life has been mainly uneventful, but with the ever increasing power of this Lord Voldemort, could that all change?

Sample Post:
if there was one thing in the world joseph mulciber despised, it was boredom. it really was one of those things which seemed to possess its own realm, like pain or love or some kind of extreme emotion or feeling because there were so many different levels of it. there was the boredom you felt when so really uninspiring individual droned on about the most uninteresting subject, or the kind of boredom you felt when you tried to read your current book but couldn't be fully absorbed into the story. joe had already experienced the latter today, and he was feeling it with everything he did, or at least tried to do. it seemed that today seemed to be one of those days that nothing could take his interest, not even his art. whereas a couple of days previous he'd been getting really excited about this painting of a peacock in a surreal style he'd decided to do, now he couldn't bring himself to add any major new element to it. he'd already mapped out what he wanted to paint and where, but he just couldn't manage bringing any life to it. not today, anyway. he was not absorbed into the content of the work. and when he tried to start a sketch as a way of filling the time, he couldn't find any inspiration to draw upon (no pun intended). so then he'd gone for his book. he was re-reading the shining by stephen king, one of his favourite authors, and the fact that he had read it before made joe unsure of whether it was because of some underlying lack of interest which caused him to constantly lose concentration on the book or it was just because he knew what was going to happen to jack and danny and wendy. whichever it was, the former being the most likely, joe soon lost patience with american horror and resorted to sifting through his other books; none of which took his interest, and his final desperate attempt at finding something captivating to read left him feeling embarrassed as he covertly replaced clem's copy of witch weekly where he had found it and trying his best to make it look like it hadn't been touched. after a final ditch effort at tossing one of bee's bouncy rubber balls against the sitting room wall but stopping after he nearly smashed the framed picture of clem and bee, joseph uttered a dramatic sigh of defeat and flopped onto the sitting room sofa, allowing his body to fall into a pathetic pose of misery and his usually cheerful brown eyes to dull as he stared at nothing as he brooded over his rather depressing predicament.

what was he to do? that was the question of the moment. the question which kept whirling round his head like an infuriating football chant. the chant of the enemy team to be precise. like the man united to his man city. joe let himself to fall back into the depths of the sofa, bringing his bony hands up to rub his eyes and he sighed again with a slight moan to the action this time. he glanced at his watch as he brought his arms back down, blinking a little comical to allow his eyes to ajust after their heavy rubbing. three thirty. that was it? he'd only been awake for a few hours, though they had felt like double the time. he'd gotten up late as well, what with it being a saturday. the reminder of the day cause fresh frustration to bloom in his stomach. saturdays were supposed to be fun. they were the highlight of the weekend with the lie in, cooked breakfast, fun activities and then late night with another lie in to look forward to the day after. well, being unemployed kind of took the fun out of those weekend joys you feel as a child when attending school, but just because joe wasn't formally employed didn't mean he wasn't kept busy during the week. he had his art, and most importantly, he had bee to look after. clem had to work, joe appreciated that, so he would help her out by looking after his little niece. it saved her money she could have spent on day care or a nanny, and gave joe the opportunity of spending time with his niece which most uncles wouldn't have the opportunity of doing. and besides, he loved looking after bee. the pair got on like a house on fire for the majority of the time, and if they did fall out, clem would always come home in time to act as peace maker. or dante, when he was around. honestly, it was like there were two children living in the house at times what with the mischief joe and bee got up to. but now joe didn't even have the luxury of entertaining and being entertained by bijou. she was out with her dad, and clem was out with some of her other friends. joe had taken the liberty of leaving both parties alone, seeing as bee hardly got to see her dad during the week and it'd be nice if they had some alone time together, and joe liked to give clem her space, especially since he felt like he was imposing enough into her life what with him living with her and all. joe and clem got on well, and joe liked her very much, even thought of her as a close friend, but joe knew women well enough not to push them. he had grown up having an older sister and lived with a female flat-mate after all.

so joe was left to his own devices, and that meant he had to find ways of entertaining himself. nearly all of the most obvious forms of entertainment had failed to fulfill their task in the world; to entertain, and knowing this joe decided to come up with other means of relieving his boredom. the twenty-three year old pushed himself up from the squishy sofa, and pulled his arms up in a stretch, ending his left arm coming down and scratching the back of his neck as he surveyed his surroundings for something interesting to do. there were vinyll records on shelves, pictures in frames, small potted plants, various old books and magazines, a record player and radio. his eyes lingered for a moment on the alcohol cabinet as a strange thought ran through his head. perhaps all those piss-head writers and poets you read about just took to drink because they were bored. it was an interesting thought but one he knew he couldn't easily find out. being a diabetic not only meant one couldn't eat too many sugary things and had to take an injection of insulin after every meal, but also that you couldn't drink much alcohol, if any at all. alcohol contains a surprising amount of calories, and taking in these large amounts of calories when drinking large amounts of alcohol will cause one's blood sugar levels to rise, which is exactly what a diabetic doesn't want. in all his twenty three years of life, joe had never once been properly inebriated. sure, he'd been a little tipsy once or twice, but never completely hammered. of course, he'd never been keen on getting that way either, but it was irritating to him that he couldn't drink as much as others without having a hypo. but, such was life and there wasn't anything he could do about his pancreas not producing insulin just like he couldn't make himself be a wizard.

his eyes moved on from the cabinet, and it was when he caught sight of a particularly cute framed picture of bijou when she was two, covered in spaghetti bolognese that he had an idea. he'd cook dinner! it would give clem one less thing to do, and himself something to pass the time with. with this sudden inspiration, joe flew into the kitchen, only halting abruptly when the sobering voice in his head asked what he was going to make. what was he going to make? he slowly leant on the kitchen top with on hand, and brought the other the stroke his top lip thoughtfully (he really was like a cartoon character sometimes which was probably why he got on so well with children). aha! spaghetti carbonara! at least he wasn't completely copying his inspiration. there was bacon in the fridge left over from his and dante's bacon sandwiches at breakfast, there was eggs, garlic, onions, spaghetti. hm, there probably wasn't any double cream. well, he could always pop down the shop for it, which he did. the brisk walk in the warm afternoon did him good as well, and he spotted some creme caramels for dessert; he knew bee and clem liked them and suspected they were the main customers for them at the little corner shop. so joe was in high spirits when he got back and started up the preparations. he borrowed clem's apron, laughing a little as he tied it on, and actually running to the mirror in the front hall to twirl around in it like girl with her new ball gown before rushing back into the kitchen to push back his hair (which actually really needed a trim, but oh well) and washed his hands, ready to start. he commenced with such optimism, optimism which held out until the eggs scrambled. first he couldn't cut the onion because he was blinded by a projectile spurt of onion juice right in his eye and couldn't see what he was doing from crying. then he forget to peel the garlic clove before he crushed it, and whilst that was all going on, the boiling pasta got stuck to the bottom of the pan because he hadn't but any oil into the water. the cream was alright, and he managed to get the pasta unstuck, and the onion chunks didn't look too bad; the garlic was given up upon. and then just as everything was looking near perfect, joe suddenly realised this was a time orientated dish and needed to be served up more or less as soon as the last ingredient had been put in, which was the eggs. stress continued to mount up and joe could feel himself getting increasingly tense. there was still no sign of clem or bee or dante. finally, joe made the important decision of going on without them; he'd put the eggs in, finish the dish, and put it in the oven to keep warm until they got back. he felt a little soothed at this, but when the eggs curdled before his eyes rather than mixing in with the creamy, oniony pasta sauce, joseph could feel he was at his wit's end. he dished out the meal into the four bowls none the less before popping them in the oven at a low heat. he slamed the oven door shut, cursing angrilly under his breath as he did, scrabbling at his hands clumsily to get the oven mits off and throwing them into the sink full of half the kitchen utensiles.

"merlin, i'm surprised the suffragettes didn't come along earlier if women had to put up with this every day of their lives!" he growled in a raised voice, pulling one of the kitchen chairs out violently to plonk himself down to take a breather, putting his head in his hands.

out of the frying pan and into the fryer, was the saying if he recalled correctly. boy, was that accurate.

^{__________________________________________________________}

And Finally - -

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

[Professor Albus Dumbledore]

o.o Definately accepted! Make sure you start planning for summer plots. Have fun! (:

``IZZY