Langston, Philip

Name:
Philip Lawrence Langston
(He doesn't answer to Phil.)
Age & Birthday:
29 | Oct. 31, 1979
Bloodline:
Half-blood

Personality:

Reserved, Philip is usually a man of few words, and when he speaks, he tries to make sure it reflects his alleged 'class.' This often sets people off to him, but he will loosen up around someone who seems worth his time. These are usually far and few between. A bit of a superiority complex, I suppose one could say. It greatly reflects in his actions, dress, and posture. He is better than most of the scum in his life that he must put up with and who cares if they get their feelings hurt and run off crying? Certainly not him. They should grow spines and learn to control their emotions and not take every blooming thing to heart.

Perhaps that's why he joined Voldemort so eagerly in the first place. The Dark Lord truly wanted to rid the earth of such scum, and Philip was more than willing to aid that cause. All would either die or submit. They would be victorious in the end, and everything was going to be perfectly fine in life. No Azkaban, no Dementor's kiss. Simply perfection. He would settle down when that was done, awarded a high position in the order that would be effected once they won. He would marry a beautiful woman who would bear him many heirs. Some might consider the idea of a trophy wife sickening, but he would truly love her, and he would shower her and their children with many gifts. Whatsoever her heart desired, she would receive, and they would be without care or worry even in death.

His confidence in that being accomplished shattered upon Voldemort's shame. To avoid any possible despair or danger caused by Velda Harris' leaking of the names of known Death Eaters into the Daily Prophet (his never appeared), he went into a bit of a recluse from the wizarding world, remaining in his parents' home in the summer and delved into books and the arts. He greatly improved in the continued study of violin, which he played since he was eight, and he found himself abandoning the ways of a Death Eater, loosening up, and being himself for the first time in years.

However, with the Death Eaters reuniting, Philip has found himself forced from 'holiday,' and he has abandoned studies. He now has reinstated his cold front, and finds himself in a predicament he doesn't care for. He's no professor, and he hates magical creatures. Who cares if he got an E in it every single year? He still has bad memories from Hagrid, and he doesn't want to do this. That further ads to his cold front when not in the classroom. He feels resentment and anger towards all this, but he willingly does whatever Derrin sees fit. Maybe if he gives the bloke a chance, maybe he'll be surprised. He's in no hurry to supplant him.

Height: 6'
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue
General Appearance:

Reflecting his sense of being of a higher pedigree than most, Philip dresses well, even when he isn't teaching or at a special event. His brown hair is slightly long, but only about a couple inches below the base of the neck, not even long enough for a pony tail, and rests outside his collar, rarely getting caught in it. His average sized lips are normally held shut. Gaping is unbecoming to anyone in his opinion. He won't be caught doing it. His blue eyes are normally cold and unfeeling, yet they are drawn out by the light blues and steel grays that he typically wears.

One will never find him in anything less than casual clothing. Jeans are a no-go with him. T-shirts and tanks are best to remain as tops for pajamas, should he ever choose to wear a shirt with his pajamas or as undershirts beneath his casual or formal shirts. Polo shirts never clothe him. Tennis shoes are only worn should he go out to jog somewhere, and he'll wear sweat pants with a T-shirt with that, typically, with a breezer. Typically, he'll use a muggle device...the iPod when he runs, as well, which is perhaps one of the only things that he will use. Everything else he does in a normal wizarding manner.

Back on up to his face, while it is usually held in a stoic fashion or with a slight hint of amusement or complacent observation, he will smile should he find something remotely worth doing so about. He doesn't hold back emotions except sadness. He refuses to cry around anyone. Philip refuses to let anyone see him doing something that could allow him to define him as weak. He is a man, and well groomed at that, so it behooves him to behave himself as that. Appearance is important, and that is all shown in everything about him: how he holds himself, how he walks, how he dresses, and how he grooms, very much reflecting his personality.

Wand:
Black ebony, veela hair core, 15"
Pet:
Ball python, Roxanne (shortened to Roxy, sometimes Rox)
Worst Class(es) were:
Divination, Flying, Charms (though it was passing)
Best Class(es) were:
Potions, Transfiguration, HoM, Care of Magical Creatures, Defense Against the Dark Arts
Special Ability:
He is a Legilimens
Special Item:
None.
Occupation: Was student doing odd jobs here or there to pay bills and tuition, now a Death Eater and the Care of Magical Creatures Professor

Marital Status:
Single
Children:
Accusing him of being promiscuous? Not a good idea. None and no chance.

History:

Growing up as an only child with Priscilla and Patrick as parents was a breeze. He had anything and everything he could every possibly need or want, even before birth. He simply had to act as they wished him to act around them, and he was able to get away with murder, should he decide to do so. He didn't, of course. He wasn't that way in nature. He never had to do a chore in his life, and he preferred it that way. The gardens were trimmed by the gardeners as well as the grass. Maids cleaned the rooms, and cooks of notorious names frequented their kitchen on every Friday when his grandparents on both sides would come to join them at meals.

He was taught early on by example rather than word that he was better than everyone else, and others below their social standing were to be ignored or at best, given a reserved smile. That was how he conducted himself even in school growing up. He was placed in Slytherin, and he got along quite well with most in there. Draco's cronies and even Pansy were ignored by him. They were stupid, and she was haughty, too much like him for him to appreciate or like. Besides, she wasn't in his year, the equivilant of a 'class' in school to him second to houses, though naturally, there were many exceptions to that rule.

Nevertheless, he made it through the years in such a fashion, never making a huge ordeal of the events that occurred at the school and instead acted passive and hid whatever fear he might hold in his heart of hearts. Detachment carried him through, allowed himself to keep his focus on his studies. He ignored girls except one. When his parents met her at graduation after he'd dated her for two years, they frowned down upon her, saying she would be good for very little and she was too impertinent. He dated her for one more year until his parents complaints became too much, and he ditched her. It was probably the single, greatest mistake in his life, but it proved to lead him to the next stage, which would have put a damper on things at any rate.

He met Voldemort on a walk through the woods on a brisk September morning, only days after his nineteenth birthday. The man was not alone. With him were Draco Malfoy, Fenrir Greyback, and Nagini as well as a few others. His life from then on out revolved around serving Voldemort for the year he existed after he joined. Whatever things he needed seen done, he did, whether it be taking captive a person in high regard or who was the best in his trade for Voldemort to question or use for his own purposes. No questions were asked. He simply did. Voldemort was a lot stronger than himself, and Philip recognized that.

During the three years before Voldemort's final horcrux was used to revive him, Philip returned to his own devices. His education was resumed, working to continue his mastery of both the violin and the piano. He also took up sketching, his way of seeing women in an improper way but in a 'proper' fashion without marrying them, though he did more than simply such drawings. His parents never saw such drawings, though. He knew they would disapprove, possibly disown him. For certain the least they would do would be to forbid him to and tell him to drop the class. He was part of an orchestra throughout those years, second chair violin, and in competitions he would frequently be onstage playing an advanced piece of music on piano. Towards the end, he had been preparing for one and learning The Flight of the Bumblebee by Rimsky-Korsakov.

He never made it, dropped out without forewarning, even to his piano teacher and other professors. He knew from the year he had served the Dark Lord already that he wouldn't have time for classes and personal practice time and serving him, and while he would have preferred pursuing the arts, he knew he would be killed if he didn't find Voldemort when his mark burned. It had surprised him while in the middle of playing Requiem for a Dream by Mozart. His hand jerked away from his violin, and he pulled back his sleeve, his bow falling from his right hand as it wrapped around his left forearm. His violin was slipping away from his chin, but he couldn't possibly care less.

The teacher noticed his pause in playing and looked over to her single student and walked briskly over to him to see what was wrong. Overplayed? How often had he been practicing. She gently grabbed the neck of his violin to take it from him and picked up his bow, holding both neatly in her right hand as her left rested on his shoulder while she asked him if he was alright. Forcing a smile, he nodded and took his violin from her after buttoning up his sleeve again. Muggles seeing that his tattoo was moving wasn't a good idea, after all. He resumed playing posture and position and picked up from a few measures before he left off, trying to regain focus and composition. His playing was notably less heartfelt the rest of that lesson, and it was after that that he took off, found Voldemort, and sent in resignation letters.

And yet again another wasted year of his life in the service of the almighty leader who seemed to never accomplish much of anything except in destroying relationships. It was a waiting game, doing his bidding 'til Harry Potter defeated him. He did his best to hide such pessimistic thoughts from Voldemort, but given the Dark Lord's abilities it was difficult, not to mention futile. He was given a hard run, and he even faced the torture curse at the other's hands in what Philip could only figure was with the purpose of getting him to submit in mind and spirit as well as in body. It only lead to some resentment and wishes to see Voldemort brought down and someone else in power.

He got his wish eight years after the man's defeat. Murmurings and whisperings amongst those he knew to have formerly been Death Eaters about a regrouping lead by Derrin White caught his ear in a tavern in Knockturn Alley one night as he sat hooded in a corner. He listened quietly as he sipped at his firewhisky, and he caught the gist of the meeting place and whatnot. The Malfoy Mansion. How predictable....Seemed White lacked creativity.

He showed at the meeting, seeing the scant crowd consisting of those who had been highest or closest to highest in Voldemort's order present for it. Some were standoff-ish towards White. He could tell it in the way they looked at him, the way they held themselves, and the way they spoke to him. Didn't matter to him much, and it still doesn't. He's fine with White at the moment. He just doesn't want to be drawn deeply in again. Unfortunately, he had to prematurely end his continued studies in the arts to return, as he had to strike a deal with White that made him seem he was doing something for him. He won't have himself killed. That's why he's ended up here, teaching a class he hated but did well in, and loathing every moment of it. Kenneth's death at the hands of someone he can't identify is unfortunate at most, considering he had a pregnant wife from the way talk goes that he left behind, but it was fortunate for him.

Role-play Sample:

William listened, releasing one of his hands from the glass to take the letter from her, glancing over it and then handed it back to her, walking back over to his seat and sitting back down. What was he supposed to say? to do? He couldn't rightly have her stay within the house if he stayed in it. No matter how huge the mansion was, people would talk. Well, perhaps he would sleep in the hut or something until he could help her find more permanent lodgings. After all, the hut was not exactly the best place for a stranger, much less, a woman to stay, seeing what it contained. He wouldn't mind it for just a while, though waking up to weapons in his face would take some getting used to. Oh well, an excuse to organize the small place.

He let out a small sigh, taking a small sip of his drink and setting it back down. "That is most unfortunate, Miss Vancroff. I'm sorry to hear that your 'sisters' find it perfectly fine to make it so you cannot go home. You are welcome to stay here until we can find you lodgings of your own." Well, it was what his father would have done, even if William himself wasn't exactly fond of it, and then again, his father would have had other people around. He couldn't exactly help that they weren't here, that his parents had been so brutally murdered, and people couldn't very well talk if he lived out in the hut. That was his main concern at the moment--he didn't know her reputation, whether it be white as snow or stained. He'd find out, he supposed.

"However, I must warn you that I do not often stay for long. I have many things to attend to, but I am sure Alfred and his wife will be more than happy to see to your needs during those times. I would take you, only it would hardly be proper, and the roads I often take are hardly safe," he went on to further explain. It was partially the truth about the roads, though whether or not it was proper wasn't exactly his reasoning. It was more not wanting to have to see another die in the manner of his parents. Hopefully this one wouldn't become curious at his frequent departures and follow along or sneak onto his carriage when he left. That wouldn't do...a liability.