Your Nickname: Michael
Have you read and do you agree to the Code of Conduct?: Yes
How did you find us and decide to write with us? Other
If you have written other characters here: No
If Yes, list them all: N/A
Is this a Primary or Secondary Character?: Primary

Full Character Name: Alastar ó Dálaigh
 Character Birthday & Age: September 2nd 1975
City & Country of Birth: Carlingford or Cuan Aighneach, Ireland
Blood Purity: Halfblood
Alma Mater: Hogwarts, Slytherin alumni

Cover Job (If any): Farmer, barman and drifter
Type of Criminal: Blackmarket merchant, illegal alchemist
Allegiances / Loyalties / Political Faction: Neutral/undecided

Have they committed any previous crimes?: Yes
If yes, what were they and were they convicted?: In late youth, crimes of petty theft and possession of illegal potions which resulted in a heavily supervised probationary period and psychological observation under which Alastar was ordered to serve back in Ireland; a custodial sentence of 13 months for assault; criminal damages; breeding magical creatures without license, both unconvicted.

What crimes might you commit in the future?  Discuss all possible: Possession of illegal potions and herbs, assault and possibly fraud, if the opportunities should present themselves.
Are you currently under pursuit by the Ministry of Magic?: No

Wand: Scaling just short of 11 inches with worn but vibrant mahogany and a dragon heartstring core. The surface of the wand is smooth but knots still live beneath the shiny finish of the wood. There are fadings in the deep maroon whereby the wand has been roughly handled and toyed with, and in all it's quite obvious that the item has been around for at the very least a decade or so. As for its magical ability, the wand is unfailing and shows in particular strengths when executing defensive charms and tricks of the utmost tomfoolery.

Physical Description: A contradiction of his Irish blood, Alastar is not afflicted with the pale skin of his grandmother but has a highly adaptive complexion which remains clear in all weathers and can withstand the harsh winds that echo from the breezy Irish coast. When summer does bless Britain with its presence, Alastar is amass with freckles which partner up with one another to become a healthy tan. Without the delicate details of the pale blue eyes of his ma and small, feminine so kindly passed on through generations of women who weren't hesitant in the practices of stumbling home after a barrel of ale and a late afternoon of arm wrestling, Alastar doesn't care for the finer details of his own appearance. He cares not for what appeals to other people lest he be looking to sell something, whether it is potions or even a notion of his, for Alastar was raised in a town where it was a challenge to separate the men from the barn animals.

While others may favour wizarding robes, Alastar would sooner choose a plain white tee and a pair of worn jeans, for life is too short to be suffering over something as trivial as what to wear from day to day; in a small town with a family who barely scraped by from season to season, such an attitude to the finer things in life is indispensible. Sadly, this only applies where clothing is of concern.

Alastar has the strong back of a long line of farming men and the powerful, large hands of a man cursed with the every morn of rigorous manual labour. Coupled with his fair height, these attributes serve him well when it comes to physical conflicts with other people.

With a deep brow, Alastar gives the impression of a serious man burdened by ambition and routine which could not be further from the truth. Alastar is no fool when it comes to the basic laws of sociology; the human race to he are like a pack of wolves who strive to give the impression that brotherhood is everything. The only way, he supposed to survive is to know how to manipulate all situations to give the illusion of calm. He could be compared to an actor for the way he adapts his body language to suit his environment.


Personality Description: The Irish, with their natural sense of community, strong sense of friendship and loyalty, and yet all things which Alastar seems to have grown out of as the years have passed. As a young boy, Alastar was highly social, as was the only way to survive in a small town. He was fanatic over both muggle and wizarding sports alike and having been the youngest of four brothers, leadership was clawed at from all sides. Small town life and a strictly religious muggle father left Alastar with the belief that men were men and women were women. He has fairly undesirable old fashioned views which only reveal themselves with a few ales.

You might say that Alastar still holds many of what could be called typical Irish traits. He has a terrible mouth and can be cuttingly sarcastic in a humorous way, believing that people in this day in age should be adaptable to each other's ways. Like his father, he spares no one from his jibes and almost sees personal remarks as a form of bonding. His black humour only becomes an issue when other people become offended.

Safe to say then that Alastar is easily frustrated and when the sun hits the hills a certain way or with too much ale, he can step out of line and get himself into trouble. The truth is Alastar doesn't see a problem even in the supposed mellowing of reaching his mid-thirties, and hasn’t the mind for settling down in any form for the foreseeable future. If it were left to him entirely, his intentions would be of a bachelor knocking from pillar to post until he expires. Not for lack of desire but a way of life Alastar Alastar has lived for a long time, that he might some day fall away from the lifestyle of a man’s man and find himself truly.

History: Eoghan had always said that time went by so slowly in the small towns of Ireland, which for many long years served as an excuse for his sexism and schoolboy manners towards his wife, Brighid. They cared not for outsiders in the village, especially people of colour, which although not uncommon in such places in the seventies would be seen as unacceptable now. The families in Carlingford inhabited the town for as long as the rocks had graced the coast and was occupied mostly by adults and retirees. Over half the population were wizarding folk, with the children drifting back and forth from Hogwarts School but without the livelihood of the taverns and farming men, it would've been a ghost town. Sundays were in the traditional sense, the day of rest whereby even the radios were turned off and not a shop in sight with an open door. These small details were for all its charm. The land was rich and although the Alastar' were hardly wealthy, the comfort of home kept them firmly in a postcard town of Ireland.

Brighid and Eoghan were married by the age of nineteen in a muggle church, and although far from the conflicts in the wizarding world, he was unable to keep from her the likelihood that their boys would soon be revealing some form of magical ability. The two shared the understanding of traditional family values and honouring thy spouse, sometimes to the expense of their own happiness and overcame any disharmony that may have cropped up when the eldest of the sons, Rory departed for Hogwarts. He had to the disappointment of his da, put up a protest as the least adventurous of the brood. But this was swiftly remedied with the promise that the brothers should follow him the very next term.

The uneventful life of a small town boy became tiresome as someone on the brink of his teenage years and Hogwarts was a welcome progression for Alastar Alastar. Well-built and accustomed to team sports, he forcibly ensured his way on to the Slytherin quidditch team, much to the dismay of his housemates. As two of his brothers were Hufflepuffs, a blood traditional with the Alastars and the eldest, Gryffindor, it came as a surprise as to why Alastar was sorted into the house of the cunning and power-hungry. From Eoghan's perspective, he had been chosen due to his drive and ambition as Alastar had been heavily dependent on his id to guide him through life. It was no surprise that with the surrounding of arrogant Slytherin teenagers, mostly of old money, Alastar was known for his ego throughout his time at Hogwarts.

As a young farmhand, Alastar was keen with herbology and was able to concoct an array of potions by his third year. In comparison to his completely average performance in other areas of magic, Alastar latched on to both subjects in order to pull himself through the last few terms of school. At the tail end of final year with the newly found partnership of his brother, Flynn, Alastar began punting a plethora of ingredients from ashwinder eggs to fluxweed to dragon entrails, a whole manner of items that could bring in a few galleons. Alastar would brew potions at request, often illegally or at the disapproval of his brother.

When moving on from Hogwarts, Alastar chose to stay in London for as long as he could afford. As an amateur, Alastar found it effortless to attract the attention of the ministry who discovered a spice rack of illegally brewed potions in his rented room. As a young man, he had few connections in the black market and made himself wildly unpopular when charged and sentenced to probation back in Ireland. At the time, naivety and fear moved Alastar to re-evaluate his life and return to the family farm for four years before the opportunity to establish his own greenhouse fell flat into his lap. With acres of land as a barrier and the right to guard against trespassers, it was foolish of him to have neglected home for the window box of a tiny London flat. Although it took a year or so to build, Alastar had cultivated his own small business, for Carlingford was falling short of what he needed as a young man.

In his mid-twenties he returned to London to make yet another debut on the underbelly of society and was able to tread water with the ever-soaring prices of living from the sheer fact his ingredients and potions were of such high quality. That it would be unrealistic for Alastar to rely solely on his nightly activities, he drifted from job to job in bars and returned periodically to Ireland to keep him undetectable and to develop his product. The truth of the matter was, as he had come to understand, that the underground was filling a gap in the market and meeting the requirements of people who were simply looking to protect themselves or their family, defend themselves or get ahead the only way they could think to. If a potion or a single ingredient were to set a man on his path, was it truly unlawful to provide such things?

Although ma had expected a wedding by the age of twenty, Alastar had treated his relationships with women as with a quidditch broom, trading it in for a newer model whenever it got worn out and lost performance. He had never treated them poorly, fancying himself as a wizarding Cary Grant, but he had never treated a woman so much as... anything. He was in a state of disenchantment with both Irish and English women alike and vowed a period of abstinence when charged with assaulting another wizard in a London pub. Prison was a welcome break from the responsibilities of bills although being incarcerated for over a year was an experience which slowed time down way more than Carlingford had ever. Time shuffled its way down long stony corridors that led nowhere and withered the soul of men. It should've put life into perspective for Alastar as a late twenties man with no career, savings or permanent home. In the end it was just an interruption in a life that was inevitably his.

Shortly after returning to Ireland, word was sent through the Daily Prophet of the conflict at Hogwarts which brought the majority of Carlingford teenagers back to the town including Rory's young son, Keir, who Alastar was unashamedly a bad influence on. With the fall of Voldemort, the wizarding community in Britain underwent total reform, very much focused on Hogwarts although shook up the Ministry for the time when Alastar made the move back to London in order to find a more permanent residence.


Writing Sample: It was downright wrong that a man should be working from a tavern instead of drinking in it, which is precisely why Nic believed it would be quite reasonable to combine the two and treat himself to a much deserved whisky. Much of the work lately operated directly in Melbourne at the headquarters but the mother superior, otherwise known as Lucretia, had required that someone investigate the misuse of ageing potions between Tallyguranga students in Narragyambie. It was a little disappointing that it had been he she had assigned, as it had been a while now since Nicolas actually was given a real project. It was all small time of late. Hell, at least he got to put a couple of whiskies on the Ministry’s tab, so bottoms up, old boy, as his auld pappy would say.

It was nearing eight o’clock and not a sniff of suspicion anywhere. According to the report from the bar owner, who so far as everyone was aware was quite an observant soul when it came to regulating his underage boozers, it had been rife with them. In reality, it had been sort of dead besides what he gathered where regulars. It might not be the last time Nic visit himself. The place had a fair atmosphere for a studenty watering hole, and he didn’t feel like an old man which was this biggest plus. Ah... come to think of it, there had been a young student who had wandered in with an older looking individual late afternoon. They seemed to be getting on too well for an old laddie and his grandson, so Nicolas invited himself over for a search of their possessions, only to find the young man was caring for the older boy. That was embarrassing.

Never mind. There was plenty for Nicolas to be attending to whilst he was on the watch, hiding beneath a trilby hat in case anyone could smell the Ministry from him. As if it mattered. Not many people knew of his profession as of yet anyway. Rummaging in the inside pocket of his jacket, he produced an owl which his daughter, Alexis had sent him. It was crumpled and had what looked like chocolate milk stains at the top of the parchment; Lillian was right in saying she took after him with her clumsiness. It was only a short one this time, but ended with the same question of when they would next see each other. The way the battle-axe was on, it wouldn’t be soon, but Nicolas had his own plans.

It was time to infiltrate the bar itself, instead of lurking in a corner. The more pressing issue was the dwindling level of liquid in his glass. With a heavy sigh, he cranked himself up from where he sat and relocated to the nearest barstool. After flagging down the gangly youngster behind the bar, a clanging was heard from behind him. “Ah, Giles, so much for keeping it on the low ey?”


Sum up your character in one paragraph: The lure of the small town boy who tumbled too far down the rabbit hole is perplexing at best but for Alastar, there seems to be no homeland anymore and life is something you can just pack into a suitcase. As a thirtysomethings man with a penchant for black, black coffee and the science of London's underbelly, it's no wonder life seems to be a downhill struggle to nowhere half the time.