THE MAN WHO LOST IT ALL !

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warning! this account will mention things such as: murder, child death, drug usage, violence, mature language, etc.

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basic information

Full Name: Argus Christopher Clarke
nicknames: gus, chris, christopher
Age: Fifty - Six
date of birth: january 15th
blood status: half - blood
wand:Aspen wood with a unicorn hair core, 14 ½” and slightly springy flexibility

appearance

hair color: silver
eye color: right eye, blue. left eye, brown.
height: 6’0
weight: 180lbs
clothing style: professional/casual, examples
accessories: a golden chain with two rings hanging on it.
distinguishing features: a small scar, right below his right eye

magical

boggart: simply put, fire.
patronus: dolphin
animagus: st. bernard dog
amortentia: argus’ amortentia scent would be a sort of dewey smell, like the morning after a storm, hints of chocolate and cinnamon as well.

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biography! ( w.i.p )
argus christopher clarke jr. was born in january fifteenth, nineteen - sixty six. the afternoon of an unusually warm winter day, he was born to argus christopher clarke sr. and mary rose clarke, a muggle born and a pure blood, who met during their time at hogwarts. when argus was young, his family didn’t have much. his father had worked, or tried to at least, plagued with a sickness that prevented him from doing much, the fondest memories argus had of his father was sitting with him in bed, reading and re-reading whatever books they had. since his father wasn’t able to work, argus’ mother ended up finding odd job after odd job to put food on their table. doing ‘magic tricks’, to earn what she could. argus’ father worried for them, what if she went too far, what if someone got hurt, what if, what if, what if. it was always hypothetical. Until the night of december twenty ninth, nineteen - seventy six, when argus was ten years old, home from his first year at hogwarts for the holidays. a joyful night turned to one of nightmares, yelling from outside their home, from the town, the people. his father’s fears had come true, they’d come for his mother, and before they knew it —- *CRASH!* —- a loud sound wakes him, and it’s . . . it’s ( hot ) in the middle of the winter, it’s too hot and he’s calling for his mother, for his father, for someone. He couldn’t remember the night exactly, couldn’t remember who it was who picked him up, couldn’t remember who shoved a bag into his hands, couldn’t remember who helped him out of the window. what he could remember, was the whispers of ‘ i love you ’, the freezing touch of snow against his skin as he escaped, the waning screams as he runs.

biography! ( w.i.p )

argus christopher clarke jr. was born in january fifteenth, nineteen - sixty six. the afternoon of an unusually warm winter day, he was born to argus christopher clarke sr. and mary rose clarke, a muggle born and a pure blood, who met during their time at hogwarts. when argus was young, his family didn’t have much. his father had worked, or tried to at least, plagued with a sickness that prevented him from doing much, the fondest memories argus had of his father was sitting with him in bed, reading and re-reading whatever books they had. since his father wasn’t able to work, argus’ mother ended up finding odd job after odd job to put food on their table. doing ‘magic tricks’, to earn what she could. argus’ father worried for them, what if she went too far, what if someone got hurt, what if, what if, what if. it was always hypothetical. Until the night of december twenty ninth, nineteen - seventy six, when argus was ten years old, home from his first year at hogwarts for the holidays. a joyful night turned to one of nightmares, yelling from outside their home, from the town, the people. his father’s fears had come true, they’d come for his mother, and before they knew it —- CRASH! —- a loud sound wakes him, and it’s . . . it’s ( hot ) in the middle of the winter, it’s too hot and he’s calling for his mother, for his father, for someone. He couldn’t remember the night exactly, couldn’t remember who it was who picked him up, couldn’t remember who shoved a bag into his hands, couldn’t remember who helped him out of the window. what he could remember, was the whispers of ‘ i love you ’, the freezing touch of snow against his skin as he escaped, the waning screams as he runs.

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