Name: Oliver Jasper Parkes
Age: 17
Bloodline: Muggle born.
Physical Appearance: Oliver is tall (6’2”) and lanky, almost emaciated in his rocker chic build. Favors skinny jeans, leather jackets, striped shirts, converse when not required to wear his uniform. Messy, redbrown hair, brown eyes, thin lips, square jaw. Fairly stoic, excellent grin when amused enough (or intoxicated enough) to show it.
Personality: He’s fairly rebellious in the way that most 17 year old London men are, and fairly handsome in the same way – slightly self-consciously, slightly arrogantly. He smokes, but mostly because he needed something to do with his hands. He’s slouchy, quietly smart, and achieves just enough to get by. He earns fairly good grades, but not enough to make him stand out – the equivalent of a 3.5 average.
Oli's fairly quiet, would rather like others to approach him and rarely starts up conversations by himself. He's genuinely friendly; his "how are you"s are heartfelt, he'd really like to know how you are. Fiercely loyal, drunkenly goofy, soberly even-tempered. Awkward to a fault. Tends to let things pass him by. Professional people-watcher.
Character Background: Oliver grew up in working class London, steeped in blue collar culture and his father’s punk rock records. His mum (Alisha Parkes) worked, Dad (Peter Parkes) worked, and the biggest upset they had when Oli got his letter was how they were going to pay for all of it. His parents are supportive in most of his endeavors, and he responds with an awkward sort of affection.
He’s always had second-hand things, which doesn’t bother him in the least. In fact, he relishes second-hand things, preferring to spend all his extra money on music and beer. Oliver is hardly ashamed of his working-class parents; there’s a sort of pride he has, as if he is far better than those with money, as he will never have things easy. The achievements he has reached, he knows only he is to blame.
He does have a younger brother, who is not a wizard. Artie, who is a very difficult 15, has always resented Oliver for being special and for being able to do
magic, I mean who wouldn’t? As a result, their relationship is incredibly strained, in spite of Oliver’s attempts to make it seem like more work than just wand waving.
Oliver’s never had a girlfriend, only rejections that he pours into songs he performs with his Muggle garage rock band (think the Hives or Art Brut) back home in London. He enjoys wizard rock bands as well, but these are mates he’s had since before Hogwarts, who can only sort of guess at where he goes to school.
The first time he ever traveled was the first time he had ever been away from home, and it was fairly horrific. He tripped and split his chin open as he scampered up the stairs to the train, the memory of which makes him always step carefully onto any trains at all. He sat in a compartment with some other first years and bawled the entire way – he now avoids these particular classmates like the plague; the stench of embarrassment still clings to their faces for him.
He really has no idea what he wants to do after school. The idea of being a rock star still appeals to him, however he realizes this is probably a pipe dream. Since he isn’t really involved with the wizarding world outside of Hogwarts, he still has much to learn about the options available to him.
Desired House: Honestly, doesn’t matter. Oliver’s a sort of chameleon.
Roleplay Sample: “Oh for f**k’s sake.” He grumbled, in one of those half-awake moments where the receding dream just slips through his fingers. Every time he had one of those sexy dreams, his alarm went off right as he’s about to get her pants off. He banged a fist onto the snooze button and stared moodily at the white ceiling for a moment before bolting upright. In his sadly aroused state, he had completely forgotten about what a momentous morning this was; the day he left for his last ever year at Hogwarts. He stared at the empty trunk and the empty cage and all the texts and parchment and – what, is that unfinished transfiguration summer homework – and groaned inwardly before springing into action. Books, quills, dirty socks – they all went into his trunk and bag, no time to differentiate between needed and wanted.
“Oli? Oliver Jasper, we have to leave in 20 minutes!” his mother stood at the bottom of the stairs and called up to him, “I’m already taking the morning off, if you make me miss a whole day…” she left the threat hanging before moving to the kitchen and popping bread into the toaster.
No sense in him being starving on that train ride…“Yeah yeah Mum I’m comin’!” He pushed the window open and called to what he really
really hoped is his owl, “Oi! Murphy!” To his relief, the tawny owl landed perfectly on the ledge. “C’mon guy, we’re goin’ back to school today, into the cage! Oh, don’t look at me like that, do you want to fly to Scotland all by yourself? Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
A hurried dressing – grey skinny jeans, red and black striped long sleeve shirt, green Converse (his uniform in his bag to change into on the train, he triple checks) – the trunks tumbling down the stairs and into the car, and toast with marmalade, and Oliver and Alisha fought traffic to Platform 9 and ¾.
At the famous crossing, Alisha tearfully hugged her son, who attempted to comfort her awkwardly. “Aw, c’mon mum, I’ll be back in December for break…c’mon mum you got Artie and Dad…” He pushed his way through the barrier, gave his trunks and Murphy to the porter, and stepped gingerly onto the Hogwarts Express. His last year, and he still had no idea who he was going to sit with.
