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 Posted: Thu Jul 02, 2015 2:48 pm
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Posted: Thu Jul 02, 2015 3:12 pm
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► Liam Alexander Cade l
l Hello, my name is Liam Alexander Cade
► I'm a male.
► I'm eleven years old.
► My birthday is September 18, 2018.
► My dream job is to be an auror.
► My blood status is pure blood, but that doesn't matter...
► The school I will be going to is Hogwarts.
► The house I'm in is to be determined, but my fingers are crossed.
► I'm interested in females.
► I'm currently with no one. I'm single.
► People say that, in a nutshell, I'm an enigma. From the outside, I'm usually quiet and seemingly shy, but in reality that's either because I'm analyzing the situation and determining whether or not to speak, or simply a side effect of my closed, independent, and self-sustaining lifestyle. I'm intelligent—not just from spending the better half of each day reading, but from being highly receptive...like an air filter, soaking in everything around me. I'm more of a functional intellectual; a collector of information that can be used in practice in order to be more effective at everything I do, as I prefer not to waste valuable time that could be more productively spent. I'm brave and determined, but logical; competitive, yet rational and precise; serious, then sarcastic; protective, while cautious; and both physically and intellectually fit—like I said: an enigma.
► My background story is unimportant, and I don't often share it with others—in fact, never. I was born to a wealthy member of the reputable Cade Family of Canterbury, England. Reputable in that everyone knows the name, and speaks of it as if it were synonymous with “royalty” or “respect,” but mostly out of fear of my father's ill intentions and his power to easily ruin the reputation (...and lives) of anyone who speaks ill of him or stands in his way. To the upper-end of society, people—whether my father or his enemies—act is if they'd prefer to be turned into dust than to have someone tread on their precious reputation. Instilled with this better-than-you ideal, my father, mother, and older brother each live their lives like a person walking down a seemingly empty sidewalk, only worried about their own ambitions and agendas, completely oblivious to the people around them whom they constantly trample on like helpless ants. And those they do happen to notice being crushed by the soles of their own shoes are only ground harder into the pavement, further disintegrated by my family's ability to justify (in their own minds) every single move they make. While knowledge is encouraged—in fact, expected—from a Cade, it is apparently only so they have the ability to always be right, and to increase the amount of people who are inferior to them—who they can look down upon. They act like it's part of the prestige, but the fact that my bloodline has produced nothing but true-to-the-core Slytherins and not a single modest Ravenclaw highlights the fact that knowledge is just another weapon to them. They also act brave, but not Godric Gryffindor brave—the kind of “brave” that shakes in the face of danger and cries behind closed doors. But me? I want to be different—I am different.
The fact that I've rambled on about my family's background instead of my own illustrates the mindset that they so eagerly shove through my ears on a daily basis—the family (really just the family name and reputation) is important, not me. I am just another pawn taking up space, entrusted to help further their goals, strengthen their reputation, and conceal their flaws—inconspicuous, but many. As the black sheep of the family, completely lacking everything that makes a Cade a Cade—other than four letters situated in such a way that composes a life-long curse, my father has had to constantly force me to act according to his will, often with excessive force. A majority of my scars—each one a reminder that my father cares more about his image and objectives than his own son—are hidden in places that the world cannot see, so as not to raise questions about my father's preferred route to power. A single, inch-long scar across my left eyebrow that I got two years ago is the only blemish on my signature handsome face—ask my father about it and he'll tell you a ten-minute, fabricated, but believable story (perhaps even entertaining to the first time listener) about a “drunken mudblood” who accidental struck me with one of the bewitched knives he was juggling in a sea of celebration at the Quidditch World Cup. This scar is proof that I stood up to him one too many times. Nevertheless, despite my father's attempts, once I start school he won't be able to contain me any longer, try as he might. I am brave, strong-willed, and optimistic—motivated by good intentions, not bad. In fact, one day I hope to become an auror, just so that I might be able to save a life or two from being ruined by people like my own father. Only time will tell, but one thing is for sure: I might not get to decide my name, but I can decide my own destiny.
► I enjoy running, reading, flying (soon), food, and intellectual conversations.
► I despise big egos, ignorance, aggression, the slavery of house elves, and my family.
► I'm afraid of my father and being confined in small spaces.
► My strengths are being rational and independent.
► My flaws are my closed personality and tendency to correct people—not in a “know-it-all way,” but for the sake of precision.
► I look like Brenton Thwaites during my first few years at Hogwarts, and Theo James when I become more mature.
► My wand is incredibly long—too long. It's just over 14 inches in length, and made of snakewood and boomslang fang.
► My pet is a a stunning Northern white-faced owl named Theron.
► My O.W.L. Scores Are:
undetermined as of yet.
► My N.E.W.T. Scores Are:
also undetermined.
► Oh yes, there's something else I need to tell you. I have a lot of scars—most hidden...some not, but rather than lie, I simply choose not to tell people what—or who—I got them from.
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