MINE ~ AnalizaAbout You, the Writer:
Your Nickname: Banana! No… I kid, I kid. I am ze Paz.
(Banana on a Steeek)Have you read and do you agree to the Code of Conduct?: Si.
How did you find us and decide to write with us? I helped with the creation of this lovely community.
If you have written other characters here, list them all: Covadonga Gertrudis
About You, the Character:
Full Character Name: Nicodemus Woodrow Gunnar
Character Birthday & Age: February 14th, 1977/31 years young!
City & Country of Birth: London, England
Pureblood, Halfblood or Muggleborn?: Muggleborn
Alma Mater: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (A glorious Badger!)
Position at Hogwarts: Professor of Potions
Wand:Nine inches (oooh yeeeah...), Unicorn Hair, Oak, bendy, and dusty.
Physical Description:When your father looks like a jolly dark-haired Papa Noel complete with belly that shakes like a bowl full of jelly, and your mother seems to be a twin of Olive Oil from the Popeye cartoon he’s a lucky duck the way things sorted out. He inherited the dark hair from both, though it is spiked up, but he is all skin and bone like his mother—approximately six foot six inches tall. In addition, he has his father’s blue eyes, big and round as if always surprised or like a begging puppy dog.
As a late
bloomer in Hoggies, he still has a bit of a high voice, but when he laughs with a “HO HO HO!”, it is low and bellows so much the floor shakes. He even leans back and grabs his tummy like his father… though Nico’s is nonexistent. He also acts like he still doesn’t have full control of his limbs, prone to forgetting to duck for branches or low ceilings and knocking things off of shelves.
He is always dressed in elbow length purple heavy duty rubber gloves, which have saved his hands many times while in his laboratory… yes, he has one in his office. He has black boots which tend to stick to the floor after having stepped on so many liquids and crushed so many ingredients. On top of it all he wears a Muggle Howie-styled lab coat and an old dirty set of Quidditch goggles perched on top of his head which has the following letters: “Mc n all” scratched into the leather head band of it, which he found in a rusty locker in a shed just outside the Pitch.
Usually he has his trusty Chef's knife somewhere on his person. The solid wooden handle has worn down over the years, but the blade has the appearance of being lovingly taken care of. It always has a well-polished sheen to it and is always sharp.
Personality Description:The man is “wandly-challenged” and--bless his little heart--he knows it. While others may laugh at him whenever he tries to cast a spell like “Stupefy!” flowers
POP from the tip he will laugh along with them and hand out the flowers to all the ladies present while fluttering his eyelashes, keen to accept his own flaws.
Speaking of his eyes, when he wants something, all he has to do is hunch his back a bit, look at someone with those big eyes and blink while pouting and quivering his lower lip... he gets what he wants. No one can resist the cutiepie wiles of his infamous “Sad Puppy” look!
His attire seems to match nicely with his boyish brain. His overactive imagination and an attention span of a goldfish cause many people to stare and slowly back away... especially when he finds any caffeine, specifically some of those weird disgustingly flavored Muggle "energy" drinks. Coffee would rank a close second. This imagination can also cause him to send his heart a’ fluttering whenever he sees a lovely lady, resulting in many crushes. Nico would happily spend his time in daydreams of acting the hero and her as some damsel in distress, causing the lady to fall in love with him and such... but there is work to be done!
History:Born to Mr. and Mrs. Gunnar on the day dedicated to love, the small family was worried as well as overjoyed at this tiny addition to their additionally tiny London flat. Money was always tight on the salaries of a mechanic and an elementary teacher, but they were always happy and never wanted for anything. That is… until Nicodemus accidentally/magically burnt their little flat down.
Yes, at the tender age of four, while Mum was out for a minute to get some more milk and Papa was out at work something strange occurred. When Mum returned, she found little Nico making puffs of smoke by piling up mountains of ash and then tackling them head-on on his wobbly legs. That was all which was left of their flat… ash and smoke. When Papa got home, both parents went around to the neighbors and asked questions and investigated other parts of the building before the landlord kicked them out for destroying their section of the building. No one had seen a fire, no one had smelled smoke or the horrid smell of burning paint and furniture, and no one had heard any crackling of flames or a fire alarm. Thankful that their child had been in no way harmed, they moved out and into his Gran's house and had to sustain themselves on jellied eel soup and potatoes for a while after that (splurging once in a while so their little boy could have the food needed to grow properly) while working up enough money to get their own place again.
It was all a very curious situation.
Everything continued normally in the Gunnar’s life until Nicodemus’ 11th birthday happened and the owl came. The relationship between the little boy and his parents went a bit topsy-turvy at that point, but thanks to a “Muggle Parents Support Group” his Mum and Papa where able to go with it and helped send him on his way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with the Wizarding World’s finest second-hand gear in tow.
The first thing the little boy noticed upon arriving at the boarding school was that his electronic hand-held games--which he only gotten for his 10th birthday and had been lovingly recycled by his father after being tossed in the scrap heap in his shop--ceased to work. The second was that hats seemed to actually talk in this world… AND READ MINDS. The Sorting Hat didn’t need much time at all to sort our fearless adventurer into the illustrious house of Hufflepuff, where he soon made friends amongst the other Muggleborn folks, learning the ropes of this odd new plane of existence from the generous elder years ahead of him.
Nico did his best to survive in class, but he seemed to fail horribly at all the cool courses, like Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. He believed that he would have been better off if he had just stayed a Muggle and never gotten into this whole magic business. The only things he seemed to be somewhat good at were devoid of wandwork, like Astronomy and Potions. He didn’t need to wave a wand to throw things into a pot and cook it. That summer, his parents were actually more relieved than anything else (as they had grown to fear their son somewhat due to this new found power) at his poor grades. However, to keep up his spirits Papa put up special star chart wallpaper in his room so he could study his constellations and connect them to those he saw outside his window whenever he wanted to. In addition, his mother helped him take on the responsibility of cooking more often, where he learned many new techniques. The ones he kinda knew how to do, like knife work, he started practicing non-stop. Eventually he was able to use his fancy moves to impress the ladies instead of flicking his wand about. He still continues to do these exercises and routines absentmindedly when he’s bored.
His next few years at school improved as he began to find his niche and hone his talents. Along the way he found himself able to assist his friends or random people in Potions, which he was really proud of, as was his mother who was still a schoolteacher at the time. When it was time to choose electives, he immediately went for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Back when he was in the Muggle schooling system, he recalled having a talent for numbers and spelling, so he based his choices on this logic. However, Arithmancy went down the hole when he realized exactly what it was all about. For his OWLs he received O’s in Potions and Astronomy, A’s in Ancient Runes, and just about bombed everything else: a mixture of Trolls and Poor. His NEWTs were much improved when he was able to tailor his curriculum to five classes, ending up with: Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, Ancient Runes, and Muggle Studies for kicks and giggles. In the last class he actually learned quite a lot since he had no experience with computers at the time due to studying magic. He graduated with fair scores in 1995.
Nicodemus officially worked at the Slug and Jitters Apothecary until the Second Wizarding War. Unofficially in his flat in London he had accumulated all sorts of cauldrons from various shops, using his odd and invented potions as currency. His reputation as a Potioneer grew, though he still lived beneath his means. For a few years he spent a good deal of his spare time with his father to learn how to work with different metals, eventually applying this knowledge to fixing and making his own cauldrons, working in some magic when he felt comfortable enough with it. Of course he helped Papa work on the cars and bikes while he was there, too.
Sadly, the war finally took hold of his second plane of existence—for he always considered the Muggle World the first—stopping his mini out of house business when an embargo on all Muggleborn businesses occurred. Yet, unlike others, he did not take the easy/"smart" route and go into hiding. To protect his Mum and Papa he actually moved further in the Wizarding World, much farther than he had ever been. As he hopped from sympathetic families’ house to house, he saw how many people had been injured because of their beliefs, both Muggleborns and pro-equality purebloods. Nicodemus was so disgusted that it started a little spark of courage in him, a kind the spastic man had never felt before.
Slowly, while underground, he began healing people with his potions in the houses he was hiding him, creating a few more efficient ones along the way. Eventually that spark of bravery was stoked into a flame so that he went out into the streets and open world and healed people he found on the spot. Sometimes he was able to do it just as they were injured, hiding around corners when he heard Snatchers come along. He knew he was risking his life, and this concern came to a head when he himself became a target. The Death Eaters had finally found out who was preserving the lives of the people they were trying to end. They hunted him down and dueled, but instead of using a wand he used little glass grenade like devices filled with potions. Sadly, these tactics did not last for long as they learned more about his concoctions so they were able to cast filtration spells around their faces and bodies. At one point he himself was injured and nearly caught, but was saved by an unknown witch, which he is still searching for to this day.
A short time after that he heard through Potterwatch about a refugee camp run by the Grimlish family in an unspecified location, and went through the proper lines to send word to them that he may need help. They gladly offered him their services.
So he was off to Africa where he had one of his infamous crushes on his friend, the lovely Ophelia Grimlish. She was the daughter of Osgood Grimlish, the man who had set up the camp. Since his courage was still just a little flame, he was no brave enough to confess his love to her, as he seemed to receive no return of affection. They still considered each other friends and were able to learn more about their respected fields through the Africans and the other refugees who had joined their little safe house. They were accepted by the natives and eventually became part of their culture and family.
Finally, the war ended, but his life had been changed forever. Word spread how he had helped who he could during his time there, earning him the title of Potion’s Master, one which Mr. Gunnar never accepted. When he is addressed as such he merely waves his hand and blushes.
In 2001 he received a note from his old boss at the Apothecary about an open position for professor of potions for his dear Hoggies! The Headmistress he never had but had once been his Transfiguration Professor was very skeptical when her former wandly hindered pupil applied. However, Nicodemus was interviewed and was able to move into his office and given a classroom in time for the 2001-2002 term. Headmistress McGonagall was relieved to see that his potion making far exceeded his wand swishing.
We can only imagine now how Nicodemus will react when he sees his dear Ophelia at the Hogwarts Staff Table in the Great Hall.
Elaborate on your expertise in your field:After failing so many years at playing with a wand, he finally considered pursuing Potions when he realized his cauldron had yet to explode in his face. Nico was also taught how to cook at a very young age, and excelled in it in later years when his mother encouraged this talent. In addition to concocting his own potions, he has found ways to improve the known potions by fixing the techniques used to produce it, making it more efficient, or more tasty.
What is your teaching philosophy?:Encourage the kids! Reward them for doing things correctly, but for those who find issues with doing things right further explain things in great detail until understood. He considers most forms of discipline a bad thing to use when students act out, as it only gives them more attention for doing something wrong, encouraging to repeat the action. Either that or he's just too lazy to deal with them.
Writing Sample:((Adapted from the Sample on SR))
”Dee doo dee doo do doo DEEEEE!” the silly man sang to himself as he pranced his way to his next class after drinking a pot of coffee in the Staff Lounge, annoying everyone who crossed his path as his voice went falsetto at that alarmingly high last note.
Nicodemus bounded happily into his classroom, filled with first years, and greeted them merrily. “Hewwoooo, I am your Professoré!” he said, continuing the singsong voice and rolling the “r”, no doubt eliciting a wince from some of the student before him.
Standing at the front behind his desk, he glanced up at the board. “Oooo! What shall we do today… ummm… Safety? No, no, far too boring. We shouldn’t bother Ms. Elliot anyway. Umm… Ooo! How to acquire dragon bitsies? No, no, that’s in Magical Creatures, I’m sure.”
Scratching his stubbly chin for only a moment or two, he finally leaned back and put his gloved hands in his tummy. “HO! HO! I know just the thing! Knifework!” Turning around he wrote the subject on the board, bulleting the methods they would learn today. While he did so many of the children visibly paled, some even slipping under their desks.
An hour or two later…One of his particularly spastic moments brought him to the Infirmary, his lip quivering and his eyes watery. “Hello, Miss Ell—” but he stopped there as he saw the Healer with her pretty auburn hair let loose over her shoulders. Her robes seemed to be… ah-hem… fitted quite nicely too.
His eyes went wide and he dropped his left arm he had been holding up with his right hand, causing it to fall clear off his body, just below his elbow, his rubber glove falling with it, which seemed to be melted on to the limb. Putting your arm in a cauldron full of melted Ashwinder eggs was not a bright thing to do. Thankfully it cauterized the wound, so it would only be tricky to fix the charred limb. He had miscalculated how full the cauldron was so when he added another ingredient which had to be put in right at the surface of the liquid, hence the result. At least he had prepared the eggs properly, a good example for the first years.
He puffed up his chest, mustering enough courage to preserve what was left of his reputation, putting on a wee grin, the kind he used when calming someone down he had been healing back in the day, “May I have some assistance, please, Miss Healer Elliot?” he said cordially, pointing to his detached arm to the floor… but with the stub of what was left of the arm.
Sum up your character in one paragraph:A bananaphile obsessed with potions to the point of craziness. He easily falls in love with any type of woman, but is too anxious to reveal his true intentions, although it is easy to spot by the lady that the man does like them. The drooling and staring are big clues. He is prone to overreact about some social or physically demanding things, except when that spark propels him otherwise, and has a vivid imagination, often diverting his attentions from reality. The only thing he hates is being itchy... or accidentally cutting off a bit of him when he is too distracted to pay attention to his knives.
Nicodemus Gunnar: Secondary