Mates! (and snakes, and hell, everything in between)
I was a pro-house-unity Head Boy. I did not just type that subject line.
How do, everybody. My name's Caradoc Dearborn -- yes, the one who disappeared and whose body they never found. 'They' being my posse, the infamous Order of the Phoenix. (Fact of the matter is, by my interpretation, I'm not really dead. Sorry to fuss everyone. It's...a bit of a long story, mates. No, I did NOT(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) pull a Pettigrew.)
My lack of physical presence in the Harry Potter books -- there, said where I'm from -- is rather a bad stroke of luck. I've gathered most people take me for an old man -- like, old like Dumbledore -- just because my name's a bit silly. I think it's sweet of my parents, really. It's Welsh for 'beloved'. I had really loving parents. My siblings were Myrna -- Celtic for 'beloved' -- Eudora -- Greek for 'universal love' (truth told, she was a bit of a brat for someone the whole universe loved) -- Bennett -- Latin for 'little blessed one' and Naomi (HOW'D I BLOODY FORGET HER!?) -- Hebrew for 'delightful cherub'. Yeah, my parents were just wonderful. I'm using past tense here, 'cause I'm...well, I'm the last Dearborn. Yeah, the Dark Mark came up over our house while i was on my Easter holiday-slash-honeymoon. So it's lucky I'm not dead.
'Course, I'm not the last of the line, like...well, Black. I have a wife and two daughters, but as yet, no sons to keep up the name, halfblood and vile though it may be. They probably won't be around here, but I'll keep an eye out on...certain other desperate places.
Jesus, I got off on a tangent, didn't I. But the point is my name is odd and old-fashioned, but I'm not. Well, I'm odd. Not old, though. I was the class of '76 at Hogwarts. I was twenty-two years old when I dropped off the face of the earth in February of '81.
Christ, I told my typist I'd be a smiling face here, and here I'm being a downer from the first. I'll stop.
I'll reiterate the brilliant parts: Order of the Phoenix, Wife, Two Children, all beautiful.
*waves* Hullo, at any rate.
How do, everybody. My name's Caradoc Dearborn -- yes, the one who disappeared and whose body they never found. 'They' being my posse, the infamous Order of the Phoenix. (Fact of the matter is, by my interpretation, I'm not really dead. Sorry to fuss everyone. It's...a bit of a long story, mates. No, I did NOT(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) pull a Pettigrew.)
My lack of physical presence in the Harry Potter books -- there, said where I'm from -- is rather a bad stroke of luck. I've gathered most people take me for an old man -- like, old like Dumbledore -- just because my name's a bit silly. I think it's sweet of my parents, really. It's Welsh for 'beloved'. I had really loving parents. My siblings were Myrna -- Celtic for 'beloved' -- Eudora -- Greek for 'universal love' (truth told, she was a bit of a brat for someone the whole universe loved) -- Bennett -- Latin for 'little blessed one' and Naomi (HOW'D I BLOODY FORGET HER!?) -- Hebrew for 'delightful cherub'. Yeah, my parents were just wonderful. I'm using past tense here, 'cause I'm...well, I'm the last Dearborn. Yeah, the Dark Mark came up over our house while i was on my Easter holiday-slash-honeymoon. So it's lucky I'm not dead.
'Course, I'm not the last of the line, like...well, Black. I have a wife and two daughters, but as yet, no sons to keep up the name, halfblood and vile though it may be. They probably won't be around here, but I'll keep an eye out on...certain other desperate places.
Jesus, I got off on a tangent, didn't I. But the point is my name is odd and old-fashioned, but I'm not. Well, I'm odd. Not old, though. I was the class of '76 at Hogwarts. I was twenty-two years old when I dropped off the face of the earth in February of '81.
Christ, I told my typist I'd be a smiling face here, and here I'm being a downer from the first. I'll stop.
I'll reiterate the brilliant parts: Order of the Phoenix, Wife, Two Children, all beautiful.
*waves* Hullo, at any rate.