Post by Deleted on Jul 9, 2013 2:40:12 GMT -5
Name: Raphael Orka Bolton (Raph, Raf) Age: 28 (30th July, 1969) Occupation: Fenrir’s recruit Blood Status: Muggleborn, werewolf Wand: Ten inches long, chestnut wood, dragon heartstring core, nicely engraved, quite flexible and has a small orb at the end. Playby: Kevin Zegers |  |
Human beings are strange and sophisticated in their own ways. They claim the highest place of the food chain, give themselves the right to decide others’ life and fate, believing that they are the most intelligent life form on the planet, and yet, let pieces of engraved metal and printed papers run their lives. Money was the most powerful thing human kind ever invented, so powerful it became their weakness. "Corrupted administration of justice determined by the social status of the accused" “It doesn’t have to end like this, Jenice!” In a small shack of the London slums. A man was pleading with all his heart. It took a lot of bravery and will for a man to lower his pride and appeal before a woman. “It’s… It’s not the end… I can still find a job. It’s just the matter of time.” “No, Harold. I can’t take this anymore. Look around this old, broken shack. I deserve more than this.” The woman shook her head at him in cold blood. Her grip on the hand bag tighter in a way that said she had already made up her mind as she glared at him in cold blood. “The man waiting for me out there is a thousand times richer than you. I’d rather be the wife of a millionaire than sticking with you. Why do others’ labor for a living when I can be a mistress? Staying with you will get me nowhere. I don’t want to die rusting in a shack. We’re done, Harold.” “What about our son? If you don’t love me anymore, you still have to think about our child! He needs his mother!” The man reasoned. That hesitate the woman a little, but she quickly regained her composure. She gave him a vicious smirk. “Alexis, no, we don’t want to have a child yet. I’m not stealing the boy from you, Harold.” She slammed the door shut, leaving the poor man behind. “How could you!? YOU- You-” He screamed in agony and fell down to his knees. He devoted everything for this family, and all he got was a broken heart. A third person was overhearing their conversation. Their six years old son was woken up by the noises. He had been peeking through the keyhole of the bed room he shared with his parents. He knew it was not the normal arguments his parents usually had about money. It was that moment he realized there would be no happiness without money. And he was right, it was the last time he ever saw his mother. "I'm the master of the court. I want money more than justice." We don’t have enough money to pay for school anymore. I had to drop out. Tonight, dad came home drunk. He barely noticed I was there, stumbling on the table and talking to himself about no one wanting to hire him. I wonder why he loved that smelly water that much. It tastes bad, but he drinks it every day. I’m used to it now. However, he doesn’t play with me anymore, nor would he listen to what I want to say. I’ve been paying attention the Dalton’s house where I mow the lawn for lately. Mr. Dalton goes to work by car every day. Their son (Ted I think) doesn’t have to go to school. But unlike me, who has to do chores for other houses to earn some pennies for food, he doesn’t have to do anything. That boy has people who make him food and do anything he wants them to do, even the wackiest thing. A teacher comes every day to teach him things too (it’s a good thing for me too. I sometimes spy on those lessons). So that is the life of a very rich kid. And he has a mother too… I wish I could take his place… If only we had more money. Maybe if we had money before, mommy would not have left us, dad would still spend time with me, and I would still be able to go to school. "Even the heinous people can be saved if they pay money" “Oi, is this all you can bring me?” The brown haired boy, about ten years of age licked his thumb, counting the coins a smaller kid just gave him “Twenty five pence in total. I think I made it clear that I want at least 5 pound for my service.” “I… I can’t take money from my parents anymore. They are getting suspicious.” The small kid stuttered, looking up at the taller boy. They were in a dark alley, even when the sun was still on. The perfect place for a secret deal. Every day, about one or two kids would come there to meet Raphael, a boy who seemed way more mature than his age. They didn’t know one another, but all had one thing in common: They had to pay him money for a service he referred to as a ‘Protection service’. Once he was paid, the kids would be safe. If not, his week would become what people called ‘living hell’. Bad things would happen to him in the form of accidents, and bullies. “Hmm… in that case, you’ll have to come back with twice the amount I required. Or I can’t guarantee your safety.” Raphael shoved the pennies into his pocket. Then as he saw the kid attempting to speak. “I don’t care how you can get it. You can beg, steal or whatever. But I want the money in two days.” He waved his hand in a shooing way to tell the kid it was time he buggered off. “O…okay…” The boy lowered his head and shakily left the alley. The kid earlier only disappeared from sight when a small gang showed up. The gang consisted of three boys, older than him. Like Raphael, they were mostly known for causing trouble around the area. And three times a week, they come to get their share. “Hey Raph! How was it?” A tall, messy haired kid, probably the oldest among them, called. “Nah, such a bummer. About two shillings. I don’t know what that bloody kid has been doing for the last 3 days.” He shrugged. Then, looking at their sullen faces, he laughed. “Oi, I didn’t say you’re not getting your handbags.” He tossed one 10 pound note and twelve pence down for each of them with a grin. “A shilling extra for bringing me new costumers. No bargaining.” Normally, he would not have been that generous to pay those kids extra. However, he didn’t want to lose valuable underlings. Yes, he thought of them nothing more than his henchmen who do the work for him. As long as he feed them money, they would still work for him. One would wonder why and how such a small child can form himself a gang full of kids bigger than him in sizes. He may look normal, yet Raphael was not like any other kids. He was supernatural. The first time he noticed it was when he somehow stopped bricks from falling onto him at the construction site where he asked to help with for some pennies. It was supposed to be just helping with minor labor or things like that, but a careless worker made a bunch of bricks fell from the floor above. He was so scared and closed his eyes. When he realized he was still standing, he saw the bricks landed in a perfect circle around him. It was mere luck, he thought. Then a second time got him thinking a bit. Ted Dalton asked him to get his kite down from a very tall tree, despite him saying he was afraid of height. The spoiled kid threatened to ask his mother to fire him so he had to try. He managed to get the kite but got dizzy and tripped. He thought he was dead. Yet, he bounced on the ground and landed face first a few feet away, unharmed. It was probably luck, but he doubted the ground could bounce him like that. He eventually came to the conclusion that he has super power, or at least that was in his opinion, when he got into trouble with the three kids who later became part of his gang. They attempted to bully him for the fun of it. The moment he was cornered in the alley, the trash can and things people threw away suddenly came to life and gave the bullies a lesson instead. An idea came to his mind. It was how his business started. The only way he would change his life was to get as much money as he could. And this was his solution. He found taking money from others was the better way, by which he didn’t have much work to do but still get what he wants. Since then, he had been living a double life. An innocent and obedient child at home and a delinquent outside. “No problem. Any side-dishes?” The tan-skinned among them asked. “The Thompson’s girl hasn’t shown up, I’m sure you know what to do. And if you’d be kind enough to remind the other kids about the secrecy of our business for more extras.” “With pleasure,” They sarcastically bowed in the way wealthy people usually did and then burst out laughing at. After which, each went their different ways. After they had all left, Raphael chuckled to himself and climbed up an old alley staircase for more light. He opened the handmade moneybag he kept in his oversized jacket to check his earning. After two years, he had saved up to 100 pounds and 22 pence, minus the money he spent for personal needs. Everything was just beginning for him though. He wanted more. He wanted to be the wealthiest in the country (Hell, he wanted to be richer than the royal people!) for money was the meaning of his life. "Money is the best lawyer in hell!" “Magic?” Dad raised his voice in disbelief. He looked at the stranger in front of us. The woman did not look like she has an eye for fashion. She was wearing a weird combination of clothes that neither of us can describe our impression on her. A T-shirt usually meant for men with pajama pants and boots, plus what looked like a Victorian hat, should not have been even near each other. At least she managed the color. “You’re telling me my son can do… magic?” “Yes. But please to keep this a secret to other Muggles.” “The what?” We stared. “It’s how we call non-magical people.” She explained. “We prefer to stay unnoticed by them. Things may get complicated if the two worlds collide.” “Blimey! So, that’s why I can throw things with my mind?” I suddenly yelled. Dad now looked at me as if I just said something out of his reach. Or maybe he thought I have gone mad. “Yes, mister Bolton. It seems your son knew too.” The woman confirmed. “I’m here to inform you that your son has been accepted to study in one of the finest school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he will learn all he need to know about magic.” She handed out a yellow envelope. I snatched the letter hastily, even faster than my father could. I was so excited, never thought something like that could happen. I knew I was special. “You can find all the information in the letter, including the ticket and the train platform.” She continued as I was reading it. “Cool!” I exclaimed. “I see… So this whole thing is true then?” Dad’s face was still only half convinced as he read the letter with me. “You can buy these in London?” She nodded. “When you are ready, I will show you where to get the necessary equipments, and how you will find the platform.” “But… we don’t have money…” Dad said sadly. “My job is unstable so we only have enough for food and pay taxes. How can I afford him all these things and pay education fee?” “You’ll only need to pay for the equipments, sir. We don’t find the need to take money for our courses.” “But still…” The conversation was not going how I wanted it to be. If dad refused, I would never be able to learn any magic. It was now or never. “Wait, dad!” I ran into my room and opened the wood plank on the floor to get my savings out. I gave dad nearly all what I had. It was a risky move for I may not have enough to pay my gang. But I could still start collecting again. Besides, it was worth it. “Where did you get this much-” He said in astonishment. “I’ve been saving.” I lied with a straight face. It became an easy thing to do lately. “Looks like the problem is settled.” The woman smiled at us. “May I lead the way?” ******************* I was reading a book I borrowed from the library when my roommates came in. They had been chatting about a war was going on, about a dark wizard that should not be named and his Death Eaters… Turned out the new world was not as fantastic as I thought. “Hey Bolton! What are you?” One of the kids in the dorm room asked out of a sudden. “What?” I blinked, a little confused for I was not paying attention on what he asked. “Your parents are our kind too, aren’t they?” He asked with suspicion. I almost made a terrible mistake when about to tell them the truth. Thankfully, another kid cut off what I was about to say. “Of course he’s not a mudblood.” He stated. “Salazar Slytherin only accepts the most noble and purest in blood. You think the hat would put one in to our house? It’d be so outrageous. Magic is not meant for the filthy Muggles! My whole family believes so.” “Mine too.” The third one agreed then lowered his voice. “They are supporters of you-know-who.” “Yeah. Mine are hoping he could take over the Ministry.” I slowly realized what was happening there. Children with non-magical parents were not welcome around here. Or at least not in this ‘House’. “Haha, yeah, you’re right.” I laughed, probably a bit unnatural but they did not seem to notice. Making up stories and lies were two of my strong points so I went along with it. Besides, those kids didn’t seem very bright so I had a good chance in fooling them. “My parents are not muggles. But, uh… they are dead so I have to live with my grandparents who can do magic too. But they died of old age so I have to live with muggles.” Even so, the rest of them made the face of someone who accidentally ate mossy bread, which made me a little uncomfortable. “It must be terrible living with all those muggles.” One said with forced sympathy. “Your parents are pureblood, at least, aren’t they?” “Uh, yes. I believe so.” I answered. I had paid enough attention to get what they wanted to hear from me. “My family could do magic.” “But one of them could be mudblood. You know, the blood traitors?” “That I don’t know… uh… But I hope I am not.” I shrugged, guessing blood traitor was a bad thing to be. “I’d rather… kill myself.” “Fair enough,” A chubby one said. The kids seemed satisfied enough with the answers. They gave a few comments then moved on to a different topic. I laughed along with them but I knew would have to be careful from then on if I didn’t want to be in trouble. I had had enough with the low life I had before, and I was not going to fall back into that pit again. "The appearance and the age, the race and the gender That's all irrelevant." I came into the "Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn Ward after a healer. He addressed me to a young man on the third bed in the room. The boy was pretty much awake for he was sitting with his back on the pillow. One of his arm, his torso (and probably legs) were warped in bandages. There were bandages on his forehead too and I could also see a nearly healed scratch on his cheek. He was, in fact, very lucky to be alive after being attacked by a werewolf. Poor child. He looked around twenty in age, still young for this sort of thing. “You must be Mr. Bolton?” I extended a hand in a friendly way. He glanced up at me over what seemed like a muggle magazine then quickly hid the book away to shake my hand, made me think it was inappropriate. I knew better than to ask what it was. Something told me this conversation would not end tragically. Throughout my 50 years of working, I rarely met such an optimistic werewolf victim. They usually would stare blankly at the ceiling or cry their little heart out. “Yes. I’m Raphael Bolton. And you are…?” He frowned as if trying to remember if he knew me. “I’m Diane Monette, representative of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.” I introduced myself, giving him a smile. “I’d like to have a few words with you concerning the accident.” “Ah, I see. They told me someone from the Ministry would come eventually.” He adjusted his position and motioned to the visitor chair. “Please have a seat.” “Thank you.” I responded out of politeness and sat down. “I’ll make this quick. I know it’s not good reminding you of what happened, but I need to know what happened for the report I’m going to send back to headquarter.” “Fine by me. I’m over it, really.” And once again I was astonished by his uncaring attitude. He then continued. “I’m pretty much unemployed but like to travel. You know, I go here and there for sightseeing and offer to do small jobs on the way to earn my living. Last week, I arrived in Kent, spent the night then went to explore the Bedgebury Forest. You know that one right? Pretty cool place. I decided to pass the night there. Worst decision ever if you ask me. It came at around nine or ten at night when I was chilling by the fire. Its jaws got my right arm first, took me by surprise. I broke free and ran, but it caught up and slashed my back, made me trip and hurt my head. It pinned me down… Oh that sounds wrong…” He paused and tried to stop himself from laughing. He snickered uncontrollably for a while before regaining his composure “Anyway, the werewolf tried to drag me somewhere by pulling my leg but I reached my wand with my left hand. Thankfully, I’m left handed. I chased it away with some spells then immediately apparated back to London and managed to get here. I have no idea when though, I was barely conscious when I arrived. They found my belongings the day after and brought it back to me. God bless them.” “I see. Do you think it’s an intentional attack? Like, have you ever been on a werewolf’s bad side?” “I don’t think so. I get along well with people. Must have incredibly bad luck I suppose.” The young lad shrugged. He straightened up and asked eagerly as if he had wanted so long to ask someone. “Say, why do you think people are afraid of werewolves?” It was a sudden question. I stared for a bit before I actually answer it. “I’d say… It’s their strength, their sharp teeth and claws, they are fast.” He looked at me as if expecting more, which made uncomfortable. “I think…” He spoke when seeing that I ran out of ideas. “…It’s more because they are infectious. Theoretically, they can easily take over this world if they want to.” It made me think he already had an answer for that question, and was probably testing me or some sort. There was a glint in his eyes that I could not understand. My astonishment slowly turned into slight fear. It looked as if he found the idea of becoming a werewolf fascinating. Though I hope it was not how I guess it was. I figured a change of topic should be good. “So, I suppose the healers already instructed you what you should do already? Now I need you to give your information and sign into this registry form.” I handed him the paper and a quill. …This registry’s main purpose is to help the Ministry of Magic assure the safety of werewolf and civilians. We promise on secrecy and protection on your side as long as the following rules are respected and obeyed. - All werewolves are required to sign this registry. - Those infected with Lycanthropy have to move out of highly populated areas. If not, stronger persuasion will take place. - Werewolves are required to lock themselves inside home, or stay in deserted areas, during the full moon night. - Werewolves are not allowed to threaten or purposely harm any civilians with their infection. - If possible, the Wolfsbane Potion has to be taken regularly. Once you have signed this form, you automatically agreed to respect and accede to the listed conditions. If you are reported to have violated any term on purpose, suitable punishment will be made. This registry has been approved by  Minister of Magic  Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures Your sign here I read the registry carefully. On the outside it seemed like people made the requirements for good purposes. Yet I could see a hint of discrimination hidden behind the words for there was no mention of rules for the normal civilians and whether or not they would be punished for doing harms to a werewolf. And the fact that werewolves weren’t part of civilians said it all. Werewolves were also human, in a way. Still, it seemed that I had no choice. Quickly, I signed my name so I could return the paper and be done with it.  The woman from the Ministry asked a few more questions then decided it was time she left. I noticed that she had been looking at me with sympathy, even until before she left. I shook my head with a snicker. Should I be the one who feel pity for her instead? If only she knew the real purpose of me being in Kent. Since my graduation from school, I have been working for dark artifact and drug trafficking lines in secret. They could get me a fair amount of money each deal and I loved the thrill of it. Three times I narrowly escaped the wizarding law reinforcement and one time with the Muggle police. My new ambition was to be the richest of both worlds and if I just be a nice citizen, it’d take so much time. I already got my father a better living condition: a nice house in Oxfordshire, used a bit of magic to get him a well paying, yet relaxing, job. That done, I have no more burden. Becoming a werewolf was just a minor block on the way. I went to Kent the other day to hand in some illegal artifact for my client. What I was not expecting was that the deal would be interrupted by a werewolf. I loss the payment because the guy took the chance and ran off. No problem, I would deal with that Mundungus guy later. He could run all he wanted but I could track him down sooner or later. I stretched and resumed reading the magazine. "The important thing is that you can pay money That's all." “And so, I told him ‘I already told you, I’m not a butcher. I am not killing pigs for you.’ And that American guy was like ‘Dude, My wife is over there!’ I took another look and like ‘I don’t see the difference.’” The girls burst out laughing. He inhaled deeply to feel the burning tobacco, and released swirling white smokes out of his mouth as he joined the laugh. It was a typical day for Raphael. He booked his favorite spot of the pub, called one of the most expensive champagne and was surrounded by alluring ladies who treated him like a king. For a werewolf, he was surprisingly well dressed in expensive suit, nicely styled hair and had money. Now this was living. Becoming a werewolf turned out to be a blessing. He got a new branch in his business now. People would pay him great fortune to get rid of those they hate, or their competition in business. They didn’t want to get their hands dirty and he found no disadvantage in that. Among the criminal world, he was getting a nasty reputation. And he actually enjoyed it. Lycanthrophy gave him power, he felt invincible every time the transformation completed. And the great thing about it was that there was hardly any way for him to be tracked down by the Ministry because he knew when he should stop for awhile for things to die down before the next strike. The night was wild. Even a hardcore person like him had decided to retreat home, back to his underground hiding where hardly anyone knew of. He was wise enough to only meet clients outside, in random places. After all, he could use some privacy. Little did he know, he was about to be confronted by the infamous Fenrir Greyback and was ‘persuaded’ into joining in the more terrifying werewolf’s pack.  Speed art… XD "Your life depends on me If you want salvation, show me your money" Extras: Nickname: Francis Morel (fake name for business), Fran, Raph, Raffy Hometown: London Current residence: Secret hideout of Fenrir’s pack Build: Slightly muscular Likes: Money, power, thrills, to look good, freedom, alcohol, smoking, raw or rare steak… Dislikes: Getting hurt, be looked down on, high lands/places, having nothing to do, losing something he likes, cheese, red peppers, milk… Goals: He has dreams like you, no, really. Just much less touchy-feely. They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny. On an island that he own. Tanned and rested and alone. Surrounded by enormous piles of money! Hobbies/Fun Time: Gambling, flirting with ladies, joking around Quirks: whistling music when bored Flaws: kleptomaniac, can’t be serious at times, afraid of height, greedy, dishonest… Motivation: fear of being poor again Out of Ordinary: Doesn’t have problem with either Muggles or Wizards/Witches Advantages: Cunning, daredevil, passionate, good liar, ambitious, funny, optimistic… Scared Most By: height, poverty, prison Greatest Accomplishment: Becoming a successful criminal? Greatest regret: Lying to his father Skills: Charm, Arithmancy and Defensive spells Terrible at: Transfiguration, CoMC Others: -Left-handed -A little superstitious about the number 13 |
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