Post by Deleted on Nov 27, 2013 6:34:36 GMT
--- living life in the fast lane ---
JAMES SIRIUS POTTER
name: james sirius potter.
age: nineteen.
date of birth:august 11th.
house/occupation: proud lion. starting chaser – falmouth falcons.
bloodstatus: half-blood.
wands: mahogany, dragon heartstring, stiff, 11¼ inches, slight flare at the far end, sharp.
broom: firebolt 2023, customized.- - - - - - -
height: 6’2”.
weight: 151lbs.
general description: Tall, dark, and handsome is, unfortunately, the best way to describe James Potter (and he would happily provide you with those terms himself). His athletic build fits his natural body structure quite well, complementing his long, strong arms and lean torso. James was diagnosed with a brutal case of Scrofungulus as a child, and was left with a variety of nasty marks across his chest and back (think burn marks). His skin is mostly discolored there, and although he would never really let off, he is extremely disgusted by it. However, at seventeen, he enjoyed the ability to tattoo himself. Vertically, down the left side of his torso, he emblazoned “P O T T E R”. As well, on his right shoulder, he has a large silhouetted lion face, roaring his Gryffindor pride to everyone that sees it.
face claim: adam brody.- - - - - - -
likes: attention, accessorizing, sex, home-cooked meals, risks, tattoos, jagermeister, room service.
dislikes: waiting, authority, inconvenience, losing, snakes, chocolate, embarrassment, disloyalty.
strengths: athletic, loyal, determined, protective, passionate, witty, persuasive.
weaknesses: arrogant, hot-headed, conceited, lazy, impressionable, disruptive, ego-centric.
dementor: bad case of scrofungulus as a child; thought he would never fly again.
boggart: paralysis.
mirror of erised: have a son of his own. win a quidditch cup. immaculate skin.
amortentia: aftershave, broom wood, most shampoos, cookies.
veritaserum: didn’t lose his virginity until seventeen. subscribes to witch weekly magazine.
general personality: James Sirius Potter, son of famed Harry and Ginny Potter, is pretty easy to figure out. He’s was Hogwarts golden boy in his own way when he attended- worshipped by the majority of the students as Quidditch star and party boy, frustrating his teachers between his natural intellect and incessant laziness. He lives life day to day with little care of consequences or repercussions, content to ride the wave of life as best he knows how. In many areas, James is a paradox, completely one thing but also violently the other. Many would think him fake, but in truth he is very true to himself, very aware of exactly who he is.
For example, James stunned his teachers with his opposing directions in school. A natural scholar, he picked up subject matter with little difficulty, proving that he is of ready mind. Unfortunately, he ignores his potential to parallel the school’s best Ravenclaws, and prefers to sleep through classes, if he even attends. He completes only the homework necessary for a passing grade, preferring to cram in the two days before exams than actually learn the material. He’s no genius, and will, later in life, very much regret his decisions to not learn as much as he could. But that comes much later.
Another instance of the oxymoron, James is a flake. He doesn’t keep plans, as he is very easily diverted. Promises are usually broken, and his memory is horrendous. However, there are a select few people that this general stereotype doesn’t apply to. To his closest friends, James is unfalteringly loyal, and does, deep down, understand what is important and what is not. Generally, James speaks without thought or consideration, not worried about who he’ll offend or how it will matter- the only people he stops and considers for are his best friends, as they are the only people, to him, that matter in this world. Them, and his parents, but even them less so. Still, this sort of heroism applies to very specific situations. Most of the time, he’s unreliable. Extremely unreliable.
James doesn’t disrespect women, he just doesn’t understand what they require to not lose their dignity and hearts. He doesn’t understand why people get themselves into ‘relationships’, thinking that they are rather pointless and only end in messy feelings and problems. Why get yourself in a finite mess with a singular person when you could have great, guilt free relations with multiple people? It’s a well-known fact that James sleeps around, and he’s disturbingly good at finding girls he sleeps with when he wants to. When skipping around so often, most people don’t give him the benefit of the doubt. Poor, misunderstood James. Really, there should be no sympathy. His face is going to be plastered across Witch Weekly either way…the girl of the day always changes. He’s a womanizer, whatever his intentions. It’s excessive.
He’s not used to being rejected, in any sense, so rejection is merely a challenge. James is one of the more competitive people in the world- anything can become a contest and he must win it, and if he doesn’t, a rematch will ensue, again and again until he can become the champion. Nothing is more frustrating to him than not being the best at everything he attempts, and this is possibly his greatest fault. His natural talents for intelligence are not tapped into, usually where most frustration comes from- but his athletic abilities are spared all laziness. Though James is not a dedicated person, he dedicates himself to one thing- Quidditch. From a young age, James has been sculpting himself to be the best Quidditch player he could be, finally deciding on the important position of chaser, which he starts as for the Falmouth Falcons. Honestly, it is the only position he could play. He’s a conceited bastard with an attention seeking complex- for the majority of the game he needs all eyes on him. That’s James Potter for you.- - - - - - -
mother:ginny potter.
father: harry potter.
siblings: lily and albus potter.
pets: hero, a barn owl.
history: James is regaled as being the spitting image of his grandfather. Unfortunately, despite possessing a variety of his namesake’s best qualities, he surely inherited the worst of them as well. This was apparent from a very young age. Nearly from birth, James was in a constant state of attention seeking. He was, indeed, turning eyes- from how quickly his first signs of magic came to his first, spectacular flights on a broom- but that was never enough for young James. He was prone to loud crying as an infant, and when Albus and then Lily came along, he developed an extremely irritating habit of yelling (his booming voice never really turned down, even at his current age of nineteen).
His parents, mostly in an effort to get him out of their hair, allowed him to participate in a variety of young leagues of Quidditch. James needed no encouragement; he practiced every day for at least a few hours, and he spent very little time indoors. He was a flyer by nature, obsessed with not just the feeling of flying, but of broom lore and creation, and the entire sport of Quidditch itself. He studied theory, knew every tidbit of history there was to know, and bothered his parents for tickets to the World Cup every year for his birthday, which falls just before the usual scheduling of the cup. For Christmas every year, it was always the newest broom on the market, the top of the line beater’s bat, a new snitch, better keeper gloves. He constantly bullied his siblings and cousins to try to get them to play with him, and dragged his father out by the hand night after night, yelling “Just five more minutes, please!”
A year before James was to leave for Hogwarts (something that dually thrilled and terrified him), he began to experience a very intense cough, one that seemed to stem in a wheezy-way from his chest. After about a month of this, pushing it off and imploring to his mother that it ‘wasn’t that bad’, James came down with an awfully high fever, turning a sickish shade of purple, his coughs full of a murky, congealed blood. He was quickly rushed to St. Mungo’s, where he would spend the next seven months. He was diagnosed with Scrofungulus, an extremely contagious disease that affects the skin and the lungs. Thankfully, James was hospitalized before the disease’s contagions were released, but he was not allowed to leave St. Mungo’s until his healers were sure that he was safe. As always with Scrofungulus, there are chances of severe, irreversible lung damage. His seven months stay was torture, mostly because the results of his treatment were unknown until the very end. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to fly again.
At the conclusion of his treatment, his healers considered him very lucky. The Scrofungulus was completely eliminated from his system and his lungs suffered minimal damage (he has to take certain medicines every day and be assessed yearly, but besides that, he suffers minor side effects). However, the skin on his body never fully recovered. Although his healers were able to return his hue to a normal shade, James still has a variety of cursed scars and marks across his chest and back, reminiscent of burns. They do not pain him, but they are nearly impossible to cover. They have improved in appearance since he was ten, but even now, at nineteen, they are quite noticeable when he is shirtless. Although it doesn’t bother him as much as it did when he was younger, James doesn’t gallivant about without a shirt as much as, I’m sure, he’d like to.
Fresh out of a traumatic hospitalization experience, Hogwarts was rather overwhelming for James. He, however, took it in stride. His best weapon was his charisma, and he gathered followers as quickly as he did enemies, even in his first year. He bored quickly of the classroom setting, and disappointed his teachers as quickly as he’d surprised them with his natural talent with a wand. However, his book work was miserable- he never read his assignments and could barely write a nice essay for his life. He got by, but barely. He was no stranger to detention.
His lungs kept him out of Quidditch for the first three years of school. He was an animal, however. He flew when he could, sucked up big time to the older kids on the team, attended their practices and every game. In his fourth year, he finally was cleared to try out for the team, and he stunned his classmates, teachers, and teammates. His attitude was barely tolerable, his grades were always nearly benching him, he was condescending and expected too much of everyone else- but he could fly. He was made captain in his sixth year, and led Gryffindor to two victories under his leadership. He was dually scouted by a few different teams. Deciding where to play wasn’t difficult- his favorite team, the one he’d drooled over as a child and an adolescent, offered him starting chaser. It was a dream come true (and he made sure that everyone knew it too).
Now, James lives in spacious apartment tucked away near Diagon Alley in Wizarding London. He appreciates a little privacy there, but is mostly seen gallivanting about in public during the off season, drinking, taking supermodels on dates, or blowing money however he likes. His face is in the tabloids often, mostly for ridiculous lies, but he loves it. He is a famous icon as much as he is a quidditch player, a celebrity of the wizarding world who delights some and deters others. During the quidditch season, he understandably disappears, a slave to his team. Adrian Pucey, the head coach of the Falcons, detests James almost as much as he worships the kid’s quidditch abilities, but as of 2023 is also the only person who has effectively learned to discipline the wild child. Pucey keeps James in line as much as he can, but when James is free, he’s free, and he wants everyone to know it.- - - - - - -
alias:boots.
age: twenty-one.
experience: too long, surely.
sample: Francis had always been the one that made the most level-headed decisions. Women aside (completely aside), he always knew the right thing to do, and when saying “right”, that does not necessarily mean “correct” or “good”, more “right” for the task at hand. If they were going to prank Professor Fuller, Francis would know that the “right” thing to do would be to go directly to his office, as his passwords were always easier to guess than the previous headmaster’s. James stood by his buddy’s decisions, as they rarely, if ever, led him astray. Now, though, James was starting to doubt the genius of his friend.
Glaring down at the panting lump of fur next to him, James crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you looking at?” He scowled at the mutt, a pit-bull mix, and then turned his attention back to the busy London street, which was now free for him to cross. “Come on then.” James tugged at the dog’s leash a little, and the pooch jumped up and started trotting across the street, its tongue hanging happily out of its mouth as it swung its head back and forth to observe absolutely everything that was going on around it.
The thing had appeared in his apartment about a week ago, a surprise gift from Francis. James had been unusually out of spirits recently, probably due to the amount of time Ellie had started spending at work. Their conversation about the meaning of their relationship seemed to come to no conclusion, so he’d been very stuck as to his feelings for her. He wasn’t a commitment kind of guy- what on earth had he been thinking? In seeing Ellie less, his mood got sour, only added to by his re-contracting with the Falcons. He’d been expecting a three-year contract, but had been given the standard one-year. His manager had expressly told him that three-year contracts weren’t handed out until three years of one-year contracts, but James was irked all the same. Hence why Francis dropped the fleabag in his home. He thought it would ‘cheer him up’.
James wasn’t very big on animals- he thought everyone knew that. The dog was constantly happy, and just stared at him with that blank look of joy as he panted and panted and panted his little heart out. It was a hassle to walk it every day, and feed it, and the first time James tried to wash it, it hopped right out of the bathtub and started sprinting soaping circles around his apartment. Most people laughed at his displeasure with the dog, knowing that he would warm up to it eventually. Secretly, James was, but he was a very proud individual, and didn’t want to push down his walls of dislike so easily.
It had come with a name (that Francis had surely picked just for fun)- Barney. James usually referred to it as “the dog” or some other name that had no affection. Despite James relative dislike for it, he still walked it every day, and Barney never tired of running circles around his owner. As the pair reached the other side of the street, though, Barney’s attention was directed elsewhere. With a great tug on the leash, the dog dragged James towards a young woman on the street corner, where he immediately began to sniff her ankles, barking at her in a most playful fashion.