Name: My name is Alexander (Alex) Navarro White.
Age: I’m 16, my 6th year at Hogwarts. Why are you asking me all of these questions?
House: In my first year, I was sorted into Ravenclaw. I was damn near sure I’d be put into Slytherin. I’d have killed myself, just sayin.
Wand Type/length: My wand is a rigid Cypress, with a Doxywing and Dragon Heartstring core. It’s 10 and a half inches. And I love it.
Wand:
Image:
Bio: First off, I’m a half blood. And proud of it. So if you’ve anything to say, maybe I can give you a taste of Dark magic. Grew up with a wonderful family, a loving mother, a kind (albeit ignorant at times) father who knew as much about magic as I do about space travel and astrophysics. Which is to say absolutely nothing. I also had two sisters and a brother…
I’ll get back to that. To understand what happened, the *why* behind it, you need to know how I grew up. Which was in a muggle town. My mother thought it’d be good for me to live among muggles so I can better appreciate the magic that a lot of wizards and witches take for granted every day, So I was raised in a muggle community.
Problem is, I didn’t fit in. I always felt ostracised from everyone. I was different. I could do things nobody else could. I couldn’t tell anyone either. I just didn’t belong. I never had any friends. Maybe an associate or two, but that’s about it. I never let anyone close, because I didn’t feel I belonged.
I was ecstatic when I got the letter from Hogwarts. FINALLY, I’d get to be with people just like me. And I loved it. My first year went fantastically. I ended up sorted into Ravenclaw (thank Merlin), and started making friends. People who could understand me. That first year when I was 11 years old was probably the happiest of my life. Because my life went to shit in the second year.
My second year is when I lost everything. I still don’t even know how it happened...I can’t...Do you realize how hard this is for me, to be telling this story? Somehow...the muggles discovered that my mother was a witch, that I a wizard. They feared us. Called us spawns of Satan. Called us Demonic. Said we were dangerous. They tried to get us to leave, but my parents refused. It’d cost them everything. One night, there was a fire. Arson. I’m not sure exactly how it was started, but I didn’t wake up until the flames were so high I thought I was going to be engulfed in fires as hot and hellish as the afterlife I wish upon those who did this.
I was lucky. I remembered a couple of charms we were taught in my first year, and was able to keep the flames at bay just long enough to get out. I knew my parents, my sisters, my brother would be safe. They were all magical, right? Well, except Dad but…
They never made it out. I don’t understand how or why. They should have survived. Did they just not wake up? Were they drugged somehow? I don’t know. I can’t understand, to this day, how my entire family was burned to death in a fire they should have been able to easily thwart. My mother had been in Ravenclaw herself. Very smart, very good with magic. How did a pissed off judgemental muggle kill her by simply setting our house on fire? I guess I’ll never know.
But I lost everything. Everyone I cared about and loved, gone. I ended up throwing myself into my studies at Hogwarts. Especially Defense against the Dark Arts. And I won’t lie, the Dark Arts themselves are appealing to me. Why should we not learn the arts of our enemy? But that is a discussion for another day and preferably NOT with the headmaster.
The friends i’d been making the first year...I pushed them away. All of them. I thought I just needed space, but in the end I realized..I was afraid they would die somehow too. My family, the only people I loved were ripped away from me. I wasn’t going to let anyone get that close again. Instead I would choose to bury myself in books, focus on learning, become the epitome of the “wise Ravenclaw.” Did I succeed? I don’t know. I do know that nobody has any idea I’ve been sneaking books out of the restricted section. I do know that I know more about the Dark Arts than probably even most of the instructors. Except Albus Dumbledore of course. I don’t think anyone could understand the Dark Arts more than him, except possibly He Who Must not be Named. Even so, I’m thinking I might know more than even he does.
It’s not that I want to use the Dark Arts for evil. I mean, not entirely. I want to understand them, to know how to fight fire with fire. We are too merciful to Death Eaters and Dark Lords. We should use their own tactics against them. Fight evil with their own madness and make them FEAR just as much as they make everyone else fear. THAT is how you hurt them. Why should WE be the only ones afraid of a cruciatus curse or the killing curse? One day I will help stomp every Death Eater into the ground, and ya know what? I’ll show no mercy. People like that deserve neither mercy nor forgiveness.
I’m in my 6th year now. War is brewing. Darkness is in the air. And if it calls for more darkness to destroy it, then so be it. Let it rain darkness until the light can shine again.
Age: I’m 16, my 6th year at Hogwarts. Why are you asking me all of these questions?
House: In my first year, I was sorted into Ravenclaw. I was damn near sure I’d be put into Slytherin. I’d have killed myself, just sayin.
Wand Type/length: My wand is a rigid Cypress, with a Doxywing and Dragon Heartstring core. It’s 10 and a half inches. And I love it.
Wand:
Image:
Bio: First off, I’m a half blood. And proud of it. So if you’ve anything to say, maybe I can give you a taste of Dark magic. Grew up with a wonderful family, a loving mother, a kind (albeit ignorant at times) father who knew as much about magic as I do about space travel and astrophysics. Which is to say absolutely nothing. I also had two sisters and a brother…
I’ll get back to that. To understand what happened, the *why* behind it, you need to know how I grew up. Which was in a muggle town. My mother thought it’d be good for me to live among muggles so I can better appreciate the magic that a lot of wizards and witches take for granted every day, So I was raised in a muggle community.
Problem is, I didn’t fit in. I always felt ostracised from everyone. I was different. I could do things nobody else could. I couldn’t tell anyone either. I just didn’t belong. I never had any friends. Maybe an associate or two, but that’s about it. I never let anyone close, because I didn’t feel I belonged.
I was ecstatic when I got the letter from Hogwarts. FINALLY, I’d get to be with people just like me. And I loved it. My first year went fantastically. I ended up sorted into Ravenclaw (thank Merlin), and started making friends. People who could understand me. That first year when I was 11 years old was probably the happiest of my life. Because my life went to shit in the second year.
My second year is when I lost everything. I still don’t even know how it happened...I can’t...Do you realize how hard this is for me, to be telling this story? Somehow...the muggles discovered that my mother was a witch, that I a wizard. They feared us. Called us spawns of Satan. Called us Demonic. Said we were dangerous. They tried to get us to leave, but my parents refused. It’d cost them everything. One night, there was a fire. Arson. I’m not sure exactly how it was started, but I didn’t wake up until the flames were so high I thought I was going to be engulfed in fires as hot and hellish as the afterlife I wish upon those who did this.
I was lucky. I remembered a couple of charms we were taught in my first year, and was able to keep the flames at bay just long enough to get out. I knew my parents, my sisters, my brother would be safe. They were all magical, right? Well, except Dad but…
They never made it out. I don’t understand how or why. They should have survived. Did they just not wake up? Were they drugged somehow? I don’t know. I can’t understand, to this day, how my entire family was burned to death in a fire they should have been able to easily thwart. My mother had been in Ravenclaw herself. Very smart, very good with magic. How did a pissed off judgemental muggle kill her by simply setting our house on fire? I guess I’ll never know.
But I lost everything. Everyone I cared about and loved, gone. I ended up throwing myself into my studies at Hogwarts. Especially Defense against the Dark Arts. And I won’t lie, the Dark Arts themselves are appealing to me. Why should we not learn the arts of our enemy? But that is a discussion for another day and preferably NOT with the headmaster.
The friends i’d been making the first year...I pushed them away. All of them. I thought I just needed space, but in the end I realized..I was afraid they would die somehow too. My family, the only people I loved were ripped away from me. I wasn’t going to let anyone get that close again. Instead I would choose to bury myself in books, focus on learning, become the epitome of the “wise Ravenclaw.” Did I succeed? I don’t know. I do know that nobody has any idea I’ve been sneaking books out of the restricted section. I do know that I know more about the Dark Arts than probably even most of the instructors. Except Albus Dumbledore of course. I don’t think anyone could understand the Dark Arts more than him, except possibly He Who Must not be Named. Even so, I’m thinking I might know more than even he does.
It’s not that I want to use the Dark Arts for evil. I mean, not entirely. I want to understand them, to know how to fight fire with fire. We are too merciful to Death Eaters and Dark Lords. We should use their own tactics against them. Fight evil with their own madness and make them FEAR just as much as they make everyone else fear. THAT is how you hurt them. Why should WE be the only ones afraid of a cruciatus curse or the killing curse? One day I will help stomp every Death Eater into the ground, and ya know what? I’ll show no mercy. People like that deserve neither mercy nor forgiveness.
I’m in my 6th year now. War is brewing. Darkness is in the air. And if it calls for more darkness to destroy it, then so be it. Let it rain darkness until the light can shine again.
