There was the echo of footsteps as they reverberated down the halls, looking down them was a figure as they walked with purpose, yet seemed to gaze around the grounds as if they were familiar with it. He was a interesting man that people knew who was different but couldn't place them, something close to being a human yet not. An otherworldly air that he carried around him as he walked that attracted the eyes of students who stared at the strange man who they have not seen before. Even more peculiar was on the side of this man's waist, a small cage but with no bars that seemed to house several tiny things as they groomed and talked among themselves with the gentle noise of bells ringing as they spoke that was drowned out by the hustle and bustle of the students. As much as the man wanted to see more of the familiar place with the wistful moments of nostalgia that had seemed to enrapture him, he had just finished his meeting and had a small window to take advantage of the opportunity.

"Hello Professor, or should I say headmaster now?" He remembered saying when he first greeted his former teacher, smiling at the cheekiness that he had but it set the tone for the conversation in a good direction. However, those thoughts were quickly brush to the side, as it required his focus for the next ask that he had to do. The last time he had gone to the Room of Requirements was in his seventh year, an unforgettable moment that came from his need to hide something away. It was not of anything interesting when a person would first look at it, but not all enchanted objects are eye catching until their hidden qualities are revealed. The only problem with that was finding it again once it was given to the Room since many years have passed since he had returned.

Eventually he made his way to the Grand Staircase, making his way up the swerving isles as he headed up to the sixth floor. Moving further and further up as he glanced at the portraits who returned his gesture with a silent stare as he made his way up. On the sixth floor, he continued to make his way down the small section of the hall and up on another set of a staircases that would lead up to where he needed to be, the seventh floor. After a few more minutes until he reached where he knew where it was, or more accurately, where it would appear once the requirements had been filled...

With the first time he walked back and forth 'Reveal yourself...'




The faeries on his waist seemed to flutter with activity as they flew around him as something had just happened, an undetectable force to his own senses which was something to add for his notes, but there it was. The door to the Room of Requirement was there, which he entered once again for the second time, entering into a empty room with the only exception being a tree that had its roots embedded into the stonework. It was mostly a plain tree that supported the branches that were green in color but the trunk of the tree had split into half as if it was a door frame. It was inert but the years had been kind to the seed that he planted in the room all those years ago, Dean smiled at the healthy tree and approached it. Taking out his wand, he looked at the faeries who were curiously looking at the tree before returning to give a look back at him.

"Are you guys ready?" He asked the five of them with a smile, in which they gave a small nod as the noise of five bells rung in the silence of the room. Pulling out his own wand, it began to grow bright as he began to weave a series of charms into the tree along with the assistance of the faeries. By the time they were done, the space within the tree trunk when it was split had now been filled with a pale yellow light that lead to somewhere. Dean didn't know where in Tír na nÓg the tree would lead him, but he trusted the Room of Requirements to pull through as he beckoned his companions through the portal before he entered in as well. While as sudden the connection was been made, the spell that held it together was quickly unwoven sundering the tree back to its inert form.

A strange sight the students would see, as a tree growing in the Room of Lost Things was certainly one of the interesting things that had a story of where it had came from.

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Full Name
Adrian Zaran Crawford.

Age
Fourteen years old.

Birthday
November 29th, 1943.

Sex
Male.

Ethnicity
Caucasian.

Nationality
English.

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School Year
Fourth Year.

Blood Status
Pure-blood.

Hogwarts House
Ravenclaw.

Pet
Screech Owl.

Boggart
An enormous swarm of insects surrounding him. They all turn into confettis.

Wand
Ten inches, Pine wood, Unicorn hair. Unyielding.

Favourite lesson
Potions: The complex art of potions suits his intellectual needs. He enjoys how precise the concoction of a potion is. He is always fascinated by studying the different ingredients and how large is the range of power between different ingredients. He cannot deny that Professor Slughorn is one of his favourite professors; a fascinating man who always has an interesting comment or story to add to his lessons. He admires him and hopes to become just as talented as him in the art of potions.

Least Favourite Lesson
Flying: Adrian could not find a lesson more boring than the flying one. As nice and intelligent the professor is, flying around on a broom and learning the basics of directing your broom feels like a waste of the young man's time. He has always been an intellectual, the kind of guy you find reading a book everywhere. Knowledge is power, he knows it all too well. As of the flying class at Hogwarts, he is not learning anything that his father didn't make sure he knew about flying a broom.

Extracurricular Activities
None, at the moment. The young Crawford is an introvert at heart, a loner. He prefers to wander the hallways alone, visit the library and borrow a few new books or even walk in the gorgeous parc behind Hogwarts.

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Appearance
As cliché as it may sound, he has the face of an angel. Very soft traits, a rather pale skin from all the time he spends inside or hiding in the shadows where no one can see him, piercing ocean blue eyes and rather light brown hair that could almost look blond in the right angle, under the sun. His only facial imperfection is a small scar cutting across his left brow and a few freckles. Although, one could argue that it adds to his charms.

Adrian is rather thin, but he is not skinny. He has thin and well-defined muscles from a lot of training he pushes himself through. He hides well maintained pectoral and abdominal muscles under his shirt. But you can never see him show off his body, you’ll never catch him wearing tight-fitting clothes. Without being complexed by his own body, he’s simply not comfortable with the idea of people looking at him.

Personality
The Crawford is a loner and has always been one. He doesn’t like the company of people and he doesn’t hesitate to let people who come too close know. He feels awkward in their presence and he never knows what to say, which frustrates him. When he does communicate, he often comes across as either incredibly shy or arrogant. He knows his skills and by being a very good observer, he can often tell people’s weaknesses and he will often call people on them, not realizing how much hatred that can bring him. He’s quiet and calm, you’ll find often find him in the corner of a room or slightly distanced from the crowd. But as any normal being, he has his own type of anger. It doesn’t come out often, he doesn’t let it, but when it does, it’s violent and it is cruel. It brought him a lot of trouble as a child.

Adrian is also a very intelligent young man, a good strategist, even if he doesn’t share his strategies easily. He is always observing others, how they act, what they seem to feel. He enjoys the art of analyzing people. He's not always successful at reading everyone, but he would like to think that the long hours he spends quietly observing people brings him a certain talent at reading others. You have to push through a lot of barriers to get to the real Adrian, but when you do, you can find a kind and rather interesting kid behind all the silences and apparent hatred of others. A part of him always craves sharing his knowledge and interests with others, the sad thing is only that he doesn't know how to do so.

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Backstory
Not all Pure-blood families revel is the birth of their own child. Some families, or parents, see it more as a responsability than a gift. And they will treat their child as such; a responsability. That is how Adrian grew up, in a little town near London: under the scrutinity of his father's eyes. Always getting criticized for not developing his magic fast enough, for not showing prowesses out of the ordinary. As ordinary as a young wizard could be. No matter how loving his mother was and how much she tried to calm down her husband and his far too ambitious goals for his son, Adrian slowly turned into a troubled child. He would climb on trees and roofs of the neighbourhood to avoid his father, to avoid the imaginary homework he made up for him every single day. It was all innocent, at first, and mostly resulted in him building a shell around himself. He seemed mostly quiet, you could barely get a word out of him. Rebel sometimes, obedient other times. Definitely not what his father was expecting of him, but nothing worthy of a lot of worry. That is until they found him hitting the young boy living next door so violently that his teeth were popping out of his small mouth. It had came out of nowhere. A simple, silly story about who got to play with the magic broom this time. His parents had never seen the young Crawford so angry, especially for such a small thing.

In the years that followed the event, the young boy just kept hiding himself in hiw own mind, distancing himself more and more from his parents, never sharing his feelings with them. He learned to let his anger eat him inside, instead of pouring it unto innocent people, especially that such action would usually bring him unwanted attention. Nowadays, it is rather hard to make Adrian show you his anger, but if it does happen, there is a high chance that something as savage as the fight he had with that young boy could happen. He simply cannot control his outbursts once they're out of his system. That is why he mostly prefers the company of books than the company of people. Not only can he not communicate well with them, but he also doesn't understand most people, making him feel frustrated for being such a freak. But the young wizard also became more obedient, with the sole purpose of making his time with his father less painful, shorter. So he would accompany his father to his office or to wherever he wanted to have the lesson of the day, he would listen to him, practice what was asked of him and then he would go back to his room and spend the rest of the day reading books and hiding what he couldn't say out loud in journals he kept under his bed. He knew his father couldn't complain about him spending most of his time reading books quietly in his room; he was learning, and he was passionate about it, teaching himself about the magic world, and the history of his people. He was getting ready to head to Hogwarts.

And the day came where his letter was delivered by a gorgeous owl on windowsill of the kitchen. A moment of great happiness and pride for his parents, and a relief for himself. They spent hours planning and shopping for what he needed, preparing the young boy for his first entrance at one of the most respected magical institutions. Without a look behind, he left his parents near the King's Cross Station. He was more than ready for a new life, for something different. He was ready for a place that could finally let him develop his natural skills and intelligence. He could prove himself to be better than his father even thought he was. Yes, he was ready.