NAME ● Well tha' name is Romulus R. Regent, but my buddies call me Rome.
AGE ● I'm fourteen. Why? You a perv 'r somethin'?
GENDER ● I'm all man, love~!
SEXUALITY● Eh, I'm pretty straight, but... I suppose you could call me bi-curious. You know, if ya wanna be an optimist about it.
YEAR ● I'm in my fourth year. Ain't it obvious?
HOUSE ● Gryffindor all the way! Whoot!!
WAND ● Well my wand is definitely the best thing out there. It's made of Ivy, which is a bold, strong wood. It's whippy and eager, so I pick up on spells easily, and it has an Erumpent Hide core, to give any spell I try that raw, explosive power! At fiffteen inches long, my wand is big, unpredictable, erratic, dangerous, and bursting with energy! We're a perfect match!
APPEARANCE ● If it's not ripped, or hanging open to show off my damn sexy chest, then I ain't wearing it. Outa habit, I end up wearing a lot of muggle clothes. Well, halfway outa habit.... the other reason being that, in the magical world, me an' my old man have nary a penny to our name. So we gotta recycle what he had ta begin with, an' that's muggle clothes. I got mosta my style from my brothers in the boys home, so I usually dress down no matter what the occasion, you'll never see me with my tie actually tied, and my shirt will never be buttoned. You can't make me cover my chest!! D<
Half of my clothes are actually my dads. I hit my growth spurt kind of early, and I'm still growing... at kind of a quick pace. So my clothes rarely, if ever, fit right. Always too big er else too small. Again, tha perks of bein' poor. But I don't like people ta know that I'm.... you know, jack-s**t broke. So I play it off as a style..... a sexy style~ But I am always in a perpetual 'awkward' phase. Especially with how huge my wand is, it makes me look.... off-kilter. Like a foal with a too-big head and too-skinny legs. But hotter. I'm already just under six feet tall, and I'm just getting taller.
PERSONALITY ● Well mosta tha stuff I hear people sayin' about me growing up came from teachers, disciplinarians, and people like that. So, most of it wasn't too good, yanno? A lot of it involved being rambunctious, rebellious, and headstrong. But there's a lot more than that! Sure, to authority figures I been pretty conditioned to tell em to go screw themselves, but it's not coz I'm a bad guy er nothin'. It's just..... my way of bein' polite. I just don't see any other way to respond to 'em. Sayin' 'yes ma'am' and 'no sir' and stuff just makes me feel weak and controlled, and I hate that s**t. I guess I sort of have a thing about dominance. I hate feeling controlled, so I always try and put myself on top. Anyhow... my old pals used to say that I was real spontaneous. I'll be thinkin' one way one minute, and the next I'm runnin out the door, either with something fun in mind or.... uh, chasing a cat. But It makes me more fun. I'd say I'm a real fiery kinda guy. I'm pretty courageous and the like, but I get angry pretty quick, too. Someone once said that I was very passionate about everything I involved myself in, and I think I agree with 'em on that one. Hell, if you can't be enthusiastic about it, ya probably shouldn't be bothering to do it. That's why most of my homework never gets done. I just can't concentrate on it. Speakin' of work, teachers here at Hogwarts describe me a little differently than tha institute guys did. They said I'm naive, which I don't really get. But they said it had to do with the simplistic way I viewed things. I guess it's true enough, the way I see it something either is or isn't, and that's just that. They mentioned that I have a tendency to be unnecessarily blunt, but hell, I already knew that.
BIOGRAPHY ● I guess my life began kind of modestly. My ma and dad met each other attending a muggle university when they were both taking classes there. She was studying to be a paramedic, and he was going into the pharmaceutical field. You know, studying cures and the like. Anyway, my ma fell head over heels for my dad. He was... well, less energetic I guess. In fact he flat-out avoided her, at first. You see, what my ma didn't know was that my dad had been attacked by a werewolf when he was a younger teen; didn't know what the hell to make of it. Of course living in the muggle world, he didn't have access to potions for calming him down and stuff. Basically, he just rampaged once a month. He was a pretty smart guy, though. He figured out a sedative using muggle medicine. He was trying to invent a cure for himself. Anyway, he liked my ma, but he didn't wanna hurt her. After a while, though, I guess he just had to succumb to her charms. So they got married two or three years later. He (somehow) managed to keep being a werewolf a secret from my mother for the next several years that they were married. Then they had me, and he kept on hiding it. I was healthy, after all. Ya don't become a werewolf from having a werewolf parent, you become a werewolf by being bitten. Which, incidentally, is what happened to me. It must have been tough on my old man, holing himself up once a month, claiming severe illness, business trips, whatever he could think of. But sometimes, in his feral state, he'd wiggle out of whatever hole he'd locked himself in. This time he'd told my ma he was pulling a night shift at work, and he'd locked himself in a cheap motel room. Those places aren't exactly built to hold down a mad werewolf, see? He clawed through the door and took off. For whatever reason, instinct or anything, he headed straight home. He wasn't in his right mind. Broke right in through our door too. My ma came running in, screaming her pretty head off and trying to wake me up and get me out of the house. I was.... three or four, I guess. Pretty tiny either way. So my ma scoops little me up and somehow thinks she can outrun a werewolf. I guess muggles don't know any better. Needless to say, my pops caught her and tore the both of up pretty good. I don't remember that night really, to be honest. I mean, it's all kind of distant and blurry, I remember my ma holding me, running, not really understanding what was happening, and giant paws and pain... next thing I remember I woke up in a hospital with my dad worriedly pestering one doctor after another about my condition and my ma's.
Well he wound up killing my ma. She bled to death before morning came and my dad was in right enough mind to get us both to a hospital. Do I feel sad about it? I mean... kind of. I don't remember much of her, so I guess it's really no loss to me, right? I really felt sorry for my old man. He was the one who'd loved her, who'd been afraid of this happening the whole time. Anyway, I was hospitalized for a day or two. I had a pretty huge chunk bitten out of my shoulder, which would have made a kick-a** scar, mind you. But it healed miraculously quick, the doctors said. My pa took me home pretty soon after that, but I didn't stay there too long. The next couple months were hell. Transforming under the full moon was painful as hell. I was frightened, I called for a mother that couldn't hear me anymore, my pa was depressed beyond belief as he went on about teaching me how to be a werewolf, or rather, how not to be. He taught me how to give myself anesthetics before I turned, and sometimes pain-killers, too. This involved injecting myself with a needle which, at four years old, was like asking an adult to drive himself into a brick wall repeatedly. But eventually I got over it, started giving myself the strong anesthetic when I needed to, and functioning to close myself up once a month. Then, as if losing my ma wasn't a drastic enough life change, my old man sent me away. He considered himself too dangerous to be my sole caretaker, which, I mean, sure I get it, but.... did he have to do that after I became a werewolf? I just think the timing was terrible, personally. Anyhow, I went to this boys home boarding school type of thing. So legally he was still my caretaker, but someone else was the one physically around me. It wasn't that bad, in retrospect. He'd arranged for me to have a room to myself so that I could lock myself in once a month, and he sent me the necessary medications. He even came to visit me fairly often. Every time he did I asked him (in my cute, innocent little kid who doesn't understand kind of way) to take me home, and every time he said he couldn't.
My years in the boys school were tolerable, but they didn't exactly teach me to be a good little boy. My old man wasn't well off or anything, middle class at best in the muggle world. So the boarding school I went to wasn't the best... in fact, it was actually a boys reformatory. I was thrown in with every trouble case, every delinquent that outlasted military school, every little boy who'd been sent to juvenile court at least twice. They were my classmates, my neighbors, and my friends. I musta seemed like a delicate flower in their eyes. In any case, I was toughened up pretty quick. I wrestled and tumbled, sold extra cafeteria food for a few quick bucks, tried my first cigarette when I was nine, etc. You know what they say, 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do.' Now, I ain't sure exactly what that's supposed to do mean, but I do know that I turned into a bad kid, just like all the others. I was disobedient and rambunctious. The only 'rules' I really had any respect for anymore were the ones my pop laid down, about being a werewolf. I gave myself those injections and boarded up my room every month. It became ingrained in my mind as a habit. Other than that, nothing really mattered to me anymore. I got to the point that I was even disrespectful to my dad when he came to visit. The old man didn't get mad at me for it, he just seemed.... sad. So, I got kinda guilty over it. I started treating him right again, but believe me, I was still a little punk otherwise.
Then, that whole 'life changing event' bit of the story came into play. The weirdest thing happened. As if turning into a giant crazed wolf wasn't enough weirdness for one kid's lifetime. One evening, a huge-a** owl came just swooping in through my open window. The weird bird jus' dropped this letter and flew off again. It was addressed to me, in the nicest, fanciest script I'd ever seen. I opened it up to find what looked like one crazy prank. For some reason, I'd gotten my hopes up about it. I balled it up and tossed it out the window. The next day I confronted some of the other boys about it, but they didn't know what the hell I was talking about. I even beat the crap outta Tony to try and get him to spill the beans, but he honestly didn't know crap. The next night, there was another letter! The exact same one! It just pissed me off. After thoroughly ripping up the second letter, I sat on my bed and cried my little eyes out about it. Really, what sort of monster would toy with a fragile eleven-year-old boy's emotions that way? The next time the letter came, I kept it. If someone was going to make me look like an idiot with it, I'd kick the crap out of 'im. But until then, I'd let myself believe it. I showed my old man the letter next time he came to visit. Strangely enough, he seemed more inclined to believe it that I'd been. I guess bein' turned into a werewolf later in life had made him... I dunno, less closed minded? Anyway, a few weeks later he took me home from the boarding school. Which, at that point, wasn't exactly what I wanted anymore. But I was still happy. I hadn't been at home, living with my dad, in so many years. It felt like a dream that wasn't supposed to be real, and at the same time disappointing in its lack of luster. I lived with him for about a month (we were both boarded up one night that month, in separate rooms) before my escort showed up. Apparently it was standard for wizard kids born with muggle parents to have an escourt their first year at Hogwarts. What a dumb, gross name, really. Hog-warts. Blech. Anyways, this wizard guy showed up, dressed in strange robes and the like (all he was missing was the pointy hat) and asks me if I'm ready to go. My old man insisted on coming with me; not to the school, of course, but as far as he could. With this weird, pleading look, he asked the wizard if there was any way he could help us with our 'problem.' Well, he asked if there was a way to help me, but you know. The guy told us that there was no cure for werewolfisim, but that there was at least more help than there was for us there, in the muggle world. So my old man came with me. He went through all sorts of things for the wizarding government, transferring documents and currencies, so that he could live there and abandon the muggle world altogether. He seemed pretty eager to do so. I was excited, but still skeptical. Our guide showed us everything we needed to know. But what got me was this: even though this was a world of magic, of wizards and dragons like in old storybooks, he advised us to keep our being werewolves a secret still. Apparently people were pretty racist against us here too. That just pissed me off. What a jip! But my old man didn't mind, said he was used to it anyway.
So while he tried his hand at fitting into the wizarding world, I went off to Hogwarts. I have to admit, despite all my skepticism, being suddenly thrust into a world of magical versions of my peers was breathtaking. It was exciting, made my heart pound and my head spin. I loved it. I was taken back to my first days at the boys reformatory. Once again I was the clueless innocent one, who knew nothing of the world and what it held. Everything was so vastly different, so magical. I was suddenly glad that my old man wanted to stay in this world. Home seemed so boring by comparison! The school itself was amazing too, even from a distance. Everything shocked and surprised me, where it seemed commonplace for everyone else. Like talking portraits and ghosts. And weird, singing hats. A kid I met on the train was sitting next to me, and explained about the whole sorting ceremony. It sounded like a big deal. But all of the houses sounded appealing! So after several timid, nervous kids before me had been sorted, each greeted by a round of applause from the respective tables, I bounded up there with a big, determined frown on my face. The damn hat didn't even touch my head before it bellowed 'Gryffindor!!' And it couldn't have chosen better. Those outgoing, wild, rambunctious gryffindors suited me perfectly! I felt right at home. But, you know, with magic and stuff. Everything just sort of fell into place after that. My old man sent me his first letter by owl, talking about how neat it was. He got a scraped-up job as an assistant in a wand-shop, and was finding a good place for us to live in the wizarding world. Shortly after, I met the one and only love of my life.... quidditch. I could never go back to what I used to be!
STRENGTHS ● Well as far as physical strength goes, I'm the top dog (pun intended). But as far as magic goes, I've really got a thing for transfiguration. I'm just pretty good at it. Oh, and charms. I'm good at that too. As for all the other subjects, eh.... I'm usually good at one or two things in each class, an' not a whole lot else. I'm a complete badass on a broom, though. Flying came ta me slow like, but (like a lot of stuff) once I had it down, I had it down. And, truth be told, I'm actually a real quick learner, when I pay attention. Unfortunately, I don't have much of an attention span. But I learn spells quickly. Like, once I figure 'em out, I can do 'em immediately. Aaaaand.... uh, I'm charismatic? I can't think of nothin' else.... I'm good at stuff though, believe me! Talkin' and thinkin' just ain't some of 'em.
WEAKNESSES ● I'm pretty horrible when it comes to arithmancy. Why the hell did I even take that class?? Anyways, I'm bad at it. In fact, I'm just sort of bad at numbers and pretty much anything that requires logical thought. It's just not my thing. Um, I have a bad habit of chasing cats and balls. Or anything that moves quickly, really. I'm no good at studying, I'll eat pretty much anything, I'm terrible at taking tests, animals all hate me, so C.O.M.C. is a no-go, I get nervous talking in front of groups of people...er, that's it.
GREATEST FEAR ● I've had the misfortune of encountering several boggarts throughout my life. When I was younger, all I could see was that full moon looming overhead. These days, I see people. Normal humans, wizards, even muggles. They hold pitchforks and torches, fear and hatred in their eyes.... so, I guess my biggest fear is being mobbed? Angry mobs? I don't really get it, but it scares the piss outta me..... It turned into a cute puppy once, but I'm not sure if that was actually a boggart.
DEEPEST DESIRE ● It's.... kind of hard to describe, actually. It's kind of embarrassing, actually. When I close my eyes, and see myself looking into that mirror.... I see myself, but... you know, a monster. A giant wolf with fur and claws and fangs... but I'm asleep. I'm relaxing, comfortably, in someones lap. I...I think it's a woman, but I can't see her face. But she radiates kindness, and calm. She strokes my fur and holds my big muzzle in her lap, like she doesn't even notice that I'm a beast... I wonder what that means? Hell, I'm no psychologist.
MISC. FACTS ●
Well, I'm a werewolf, in case ya didn't pick up on that little tidbit. So I need some Wolfsbane potion every full moon and a place to curl up all by my lonesome. And I'm a bit more wolfish, even when I'm not changed. My old man says that my habits are actually much more pronounced than most, and more... well, more like a dog.
My patronus is shaped like a doberman pincer. As if I don't get enough dog-puns in my everyday life.
I've got myself a delightfully rude Jarvey named Maes. He's a real hand full, but the fat little jerk's just plain hilarious!!
MY CLASSES ● Transfiguration, D.A.D.A., Charms, Muggle Studies, Potions, Herbology
THEME SONG! ● Headstrong - Trapt
► Karime Blackwing ◄
