Post by lucien bagman on May 22, 2009 23:03:13 GMT -5
{I CANT BELIEVE THE NEWS TODAY}
{AND THE BATTLES JUST BEGUN}
FULL NAME:
lucien damien bagman
AGE:
seventeen
YEAR or OCCUPATION:
seventh year
BIRTHDAY:
august 4th
SCHOOL/FORMER SCHOOL:
hogwarts
HOUSE/FORMER HOUSE:
ravenclaw
FAMILY:
henry ludovic bagman; father; daily prophet editor
cassandra [parr] bagman; mother; deceased
_____ bagman; sister; sixth year
_____ bagman; brother; 4th year
ANYTHING ELSE:
A quiet guy, ravenclaw is the perfect house for Lucien because of his quiet and wise nature. Though often suffering from long bouts of insomnia, you wouldn't be able to tell despite the physical aspects of fatigue and dark eyes. Lucien is a popular guy and he likes to get his way though trying to avoid the gamble. Generally all the trouble makers are sent to the house of slytherin, but some manage to slip away and crawl into the other houses, ravenclaws are just smart enough not to get caught.
{WE EAT AND DRINK WHILE TOMORROW THEY DIE}
This room could have been his office. It was nearly the same size and shape. Had a desk, some chairs and random articles of office decoration around. But, it was different at the same time. Different tone, different mood, different setting. Different purpose, that was for sure. His usual office was used in the editing process for The Daily Prophet. A job that was once his own and now he was merely a creative puppet for the Ministry of Magic and their ways. Still he found ways to keep control. If the Ministry ever tried to take away freedom of speech they might as well start a full fledged war against the public. Most of the writing he did himself while subordinates assisted. Sometimes he delegated and gave them articles to write where he felt he could not. Damien was careful who he hired and though not all of his decisions were practical and were probably done too quickly, he had a good staff. Xandra Lupin was sharp and good with people, much more of a persuasive person than he could ever be. Jasper Weasley had a knack for getting the shot. Damien was far from a decent photographer, he'd leave that to somebody who knew what they were doing.
This office was different. Less official and less friendly even. Cold and lonely. It seemed hidden though you were inside and begging for anything clandestine. It wasn't even an office. Simply a room inside of an old castle not even in London and it had a desk and chairs. He liked to use it on occasion, to get away from the busy lifestyle he was accustomed to. Peace and quiet helped him think and when he was thinking he didn't want to be disturbed. Rarely he found disturbance here and even if he did he didn't mind at all because of the people around. Mostly pleasant people, most of the time. Sometimes a new face and sometimes an old one. Leaning back slightly in his chair he folding his hands across his midsection, eyes slightly upward and lost in thought. The last article he had put out himself was a Ministry Decree. A ridiculous one, at that. It reminded him of the stories he'd heard of a Ministry Official who had actually been put in a teaching position at Hogwarts, his old school, and had issued many decrees in her time. The end was disastrous, of course.
Then again, the Ministry didn't exactly learn from its mistakes as it was becoming evident. It was like reading about muggle history. Quite silly if you asked him, being pureblood himself. But he did remember reading about the Germans invading the Russians and retreating when the winter arrived just as the French had done about two centuries earlier. Clearly the first time around hadn't, so why do it again? It was this kind of logic he was always up against and it was almost predictable in its unpredictable fashion. But he wasn't alone in this fight, there were plenty of them and he knew of a few of the top of his head. But, there were few that he had met. The disorganization was fabulous because it kept things organized and how it needed to be for a while. The Death Eaters were advanced in their thoughts but also malicious and a true terrorist group. At the same time they were obsolete to this new cause, against this new definition of tyrrany and oppression. People weren't meant to survive under that and especially taking Witches and Wizard's rights to use magic in public. You might as well be chopping off their fingers and arms.
A cold chill passed up his spine and came back to focus. You never really felt alone in this castle.
hi, my name is vanessa and i joined because i should be doing homework.
{AND THE BATTLES JUST BEGUN}
FULL NAME:
lucien damien bagman
AGE:
seventeen
YEAR or OCCUPATION:
seventh year
BIRTHDAY:
august 4th
SCHOOL/FORMER SCHOOL:
hogwarts
HOUSE/FORMER HOUSE:
ravenclaw
FAMILY:
henry ludovic bagman; father; daily prophet editor
cassandra [parr] bagman; mother; deceased
_____ bagman; sister; sixth year
_____ bagman; brother; 4th year
ANYTHING ELSE:
A quiet guy, ravenclaw is the perfect house for Lucien because of his quiet and wise nature. Though often suffering from long bouts of insomnia, you wouldn't be able to tell despite the physical aspects of fatigue and dark eyes. Lucien is a popular guy and he likes to get his way though trying to avoid the gamble. Generally all the trouble makers are sent to the house of slytherin, but some manage to slip away and crawl into the other houses, ravenclaws are just smart enough not to get caught.
{WE EAT AND DRINK WHILE TOMORROW THEY DIE}
This room could have been his office. It was nearly the same size and shape. Had a desk, some chairs and random articles of office decoration around. But, it was different at the same time. Different tone, different mood, different setting. Different purpose, that was for sure. His usual office was used in the editing process for The Daily Prophet. A job that was once his own and now he was merely a creative puppet for the Ministry of Magic and their ways. Still he found ways to keep control. If the Ministry ever tried to take away freedom of speech they might as well start a full fledged war against the public. Most of the writing he did himself while subordinates assisted. Sometimes he delegated and gave them articles to write where he felt he could not. Damien was careful who he hired and though not all of his decisions were practical and were probably done too quickly, he had a good staff. Xandra Lupin was sharp and good with people, much more of a persuasive person than he could ever be. Jasper Weasley had a knack for getting the shot. Damien was far from a decent photographer, he'd leave that to somebody who knew what they were doing.
This office was different. Less official and less friendly even. Cold and lonely. It seemed hidden though you were inside and begging for anything clandestine. It wasn't even an office. Simply a room inside of an old castle not even in London and it had a desk and chairs. He liked to use it on occasion, to get away from the busy lifestyle he was accustomed to. Peace and quiet helped him think and when he was thinking he didn't want to be disturbed. Rarely he found disturbance here and even if he did he didn't mind at all because of the people around. Mostly pleasant people, most of the time. Sometimes a new face and sometimes an old one. Leaning back slightly in his chair he folding his hands across his midsection, eyes slightly upward and lost in thought. The last article he had put out himself was a Ministry Decree. A ridiculous one, at that. It reminded him of the stories he'd heard of a Ministry Official who had actually been put in a teaching position at Hogwarts, his old school, and had issued many decrees in her time. The end was disastrous, of course.
Then again, the Ministry didn't exactly learn from its mistakes as it was becoming evident. It was like reading about muggle history. Quite silly if you asked him, being pureblood himself. But he did remember reading about the Germans invading the Russians and retreating when the winter arrived just as the French had done about two centuries earlier. Clearly the first time around hadn't, so why do it again? It was this kind of logic he was always up against and it was almost predictable in its unpredictable fashion. But he wasn't alone in this fight, there were plenty of them and he knew of a few of the top of his head. But, there were few that he had met. The disorganization was fabulous because it kept things organized and how it needed to be for a while. The Death Eaters were advanced in their thoughts but also malicious and a true terrorist group. At the same time they were obsolete to this new cause, against this new definition of tyrrany and oppression. People weren't meant to survive under that and especially taking Witches and Wizard's rights to use magic in public. You might as well be chopping off their fingers and arms.
A cold chill passed up his spine and came back to focus. You never really felt alone in this castle.
