InsaneJournal

NAME: Dedalus Delwyn Diggle : close friends call him Deedee sometimes, often called his last name in the workplace.
AGE/BIRTHDAY: 32 / 4 February 1947
BLOOD STATUS: Halfblood
OCCUPATION: Art Director, Daily Prophet

FAMILY:
MOTHER. Edwina Diggle - 53 years old, graduated Hufflepuff, unmarried, runs a “Pie-by-Post” small business out of her home in Kent - shepherd’s pies and plum crumbles are her best sellers. He still takes care of his mother practically every day, and often spends more time there than in his own flat in London. Naturally he is very close to his mother, as he never grew up with a father - and she lavishes him with the attention he craves.

SEXUALITY: Homosexual. Dedalus finds some women aesthetically pleasing in a way (or just appreciates the artistic aesthetic of the female nude body), but is sexually attracted to men - despite not having the nerve to pursue a relationship actively.
SIGNIFICANT OTHER: None. Single and likely to stay that way.
CHILDREN:: None. “Heavens no. Never.” Or so Dedalus would say. Unless you count his two owls which he somewhat treats like daughters - Andronicus, Andi for short, who he bought thinking was a male but ended up being female; and his smaller owl, Mushroom.

LOYALTY/ALLIANCE: Order of the Phoenix.

ROLE IN THE WAR: Dedalus’ work has taken him all over the wizarding world, as a former photographer for Witch Weekly and as the current Art Director of The Daily Prophet. He considers himself well-rounded and knowledegable about the numerous countries he’s visited, and has a good ear for languages as well. He’s strong in classical Arabic and French, after living in Morocco for four years, but can speak various other languages conversationally as well - Hindi, some Italian, Spanish, and Japanese. He’s memorized other useful phrases in other languages as well, valuing it as a useful tool in travel which has always been a big part of his career. He’s talkative and outgoing, a natural people-person, which undoubtedly does help him in his travel abroad. His various travels have also gained him a good social network of connections and allies around the world as well - if you need a place to stay in Thailand, or need to get your way around Osaka without a map, Dedalus can help. Other than that, or for matters of common sense, it’s best you look elsewhere. However, it should also be mentioned that he conjures up a fantastic Patronus charm. He doesn’t quite know this, though, as he’s only had opportunities to use it as communication.

POLITICAL VIEWS:
Dedalus knows he’s on the outskirts of wizarding society just from who he is, where he came from, and who he aligns himself with. As a homosexual, bastard-son of a muggle and an unmarried witch, he doesn’t hold any hard feelings against any such things. His mother did try to distance him from muggles, as she didn’t want him to ask too many questions about his father, and as a result Dedalus still does not know much about them. Muggles are a fascinating novelty to him, something he’s never had quite enough time to really understand their technology, apart from what he’s read in books. He sees nothing wrong with muggle and wizard relationships, as he was born from one, and only sees it as a necessary means of wizarding culture and population strengthening - and often he doesn’t give a thought to the Statute of Secrecy, unfortunately. Dedalus can be thoughtless sometimes, in regarding muggles as a “noble savage,” whose lives are so much easier without magic. Their cars and planes are fascinating and bizarre, crude and quaint, and he is always interested in learning more - from books, of course. Blood purity has never been a strong point, and he does not believe keeping wizarding blood pure has ever been of any importance - his travels have only strengthened him in coming into contact with other cultures, so why can’t it be the same for the wizarding world and muggle world, he believes, and he often only focuses on the positive aspects of the melding of cultures. In his overly-positive eye, after all, Spanish conquest of Latin America only opened up a new trade route and introduced chocolate and tomatoes to Europe! Nevermind the downfall of native cultures due to disease and such. . . He believes he is very open-minded and accepting, and he is, but often to a fault. Dedalus often overlooks real political and social issues and just focuses on the sunnier side of life. Yes, werewolves should be protected and not persecuted by the Ministry, but he’s not the one to ask about what to do in the case of the full moon. That’s Dedalus for you - all book-smarts and a positive outlook, and to hell with everything else. It’s depressing besides.

APPEARANCE:
Dedalus is a bubbly, silly, cute sort of man - excitable even just by looking at him. He is rather short, only standing at around five foot eight, though tries to make up for it in manner of dress or hat selection, only to be undone by his slouching. He has plain brown hair which he strives to comb neatly all the time, as he often tries to hide it under a hat, focusing more on his blue-green, slightly-buggy blue eyes. His wide grin overtakes his face, as his eyes crinkle and grow small when he smiles and laughs. He hates his slightly larger ears, having tried so many spells on them to pin them back. (He has a scar on the back of his right ear from one attempt, actually.) His manner of dress is just as loud as his personality, throwing most of his money into flashy, tailored suits and waistcoats, jumpers, and trenchcoats. He wears robes when the occasion calls for it, but feels more comfortable in his own personal style - a fusion of wizarding influence and muggle clothes. He’s clean and neat, mostly manifesting in his grooming - a little bit too much thought put into it, really, which lots catch onto.

Dedalus is a jumpy man, always grinning and laughing and speaking far too fast - chatty and loud, exuberant and excited about everything. . .or searching for reasons to be so. He’s a man of extremes - he’s either very happy or an absolute grump when something goes terribly wrong in his point of view. The latter only happens rarely, as he always sees the silver lining. Sometimes his outgoing nature and chattering voice, as well as his animated cheeriness can grate on people in his company, but he rarely notices. A first impression of Dedalus often involves noticing his magenta hat and green pants, and then wondering just how much caffeine he’s had already - or how he can stay so damn positive at a time like this.

CHILDHOOD:
Edwina Diggle was never known for her smarts or wit. The halfblooded witch was just a silly girl living in a muggle area of Kent, staying to herself and out of the way of her neighbors, living on her parent’s money after her internship at St. Mungo’s hadn’t quite worked out. She spent most of her time baking pies and asking her parents for money, as she had a half-cocked idea that maybe she could open a bakery. Her elder relatives told her she was wasting her life away, and was no closer to making a name for herself and/or finding a good husband, but Edwina knew better - or so she told her young self. She was in love with a muggle, and they were going to be married when Patrick Flannery, a handsome soldier, came back from Ireland.

Instead of having her “one true love” / one night stand come back, Edwina was dealt a different card by fate - a baby that she could no longer hide from her parents, and no longer deny was just extra weight gain caused by a foray into perfecting a recipe for cottage pie. The young woman was struck with the heartbreak and realization that her love never truly cared for her, and was simply a muggle in search of a good time on holiday, along with the fear of failing her parents and having to come crawling back to them. The Diggles were never cruel people, and were often seen as pushovers and simple folk, but they welcomed back their shamed daughter and told her to hold her head high in the face of adversity. As an act of rebellion against the strictness of wizarding society which the Diggles had never much stayed in line with, Dedalus was born to the unwed, single mother in the care of her elderly parents with no attempts to hide the fact that there was no father in the picture. Perhaps he’d end up stronger for it, perhaps it wouldn’t matter, but there were other things to be concerned with than the heritage of the child.

Dedalus had a supportive and loving upbringing, even with his mother’s relatives and family, who still looked upon him as an unfortunate mishap, but loved him all the same. He grew up in Kent with his mother, who had a dream to become one of the leading wizarding cookbook authors in the country. For this reason she was always home in the kitchen, using the time to bake pies and roasts to teach her son what he needed to know to prepare him for wizarding school. He was kept far from the muggle world, as his mother only saw the hurt and loss it had caused with its wars and bombs and threats of nuclear war, and was educated and treated as any upstanding wizard would be – if not into a mama’s boy, very much coddled by Edwina and the grandparents, perhaps to overcompensate for his “broken home,” as neighbors seemed to call it. He was cooped up a lot as a child, only to escape through bathroom windows to playgrounds down the street to babble at all the muggle children, who just laughed at his odd words. . . "quidditch" and "snitch" and "bludger" and "gobstones." He loved the attention, not realizing they were laughing at him. Any attention from anyone was good enough for him, even if they were poking fun at him. He didn’t care if he was misunderstood, it felt good to have someone to talk to other than wooden spoons he’d taken from the kitchen and given names to, playing in the toy castle his mother had given him, which he had done for the majority of his somewhat isolated childhood. The Diggles were wary to give him too much contact with the muggles in town, teaching him that while they lived nearby, they were too different and exotic for him to understand. Little did they know just how this would manifest later in his life.

Edwina and her parents knew Dedalus was different, even from an early age. He was much more gentle and understanding than the other boys he rarely played with, less interested in playing exploding snap or hunting for insects or gnomes in the gardens. He wanted to play imaginary games, pretend to be a mythical hero or a cook or a healer, which other boys were never as interested in playing. He preferred to play with his art set and create and imagine things rather than fly on his toy broom with his grandfather. Dedalus was always more interested in the goings-on of the crowds at Quidditch matches rather than the main event - the food and the colors and how people reacted. His grandparents saw this as heightened intelligence, in a deeper perception than other children his age. He preferred to write stories and illustrate them, to make up songs and read about ancient cultures and faraway lands - and often focused on those foreign muggles that he longed to understand and live among. Perhaps his isolation paid off in this way, as even when he was a child, he longed to travel away from the small hedgerow house in Kent.

Hogwarts, however, was the exception. As his eleventh birthday neared, he dreaded getting his letter. His mother and grandparents tried to tell him that it was just another adventure, that it was a holiday where he’d learn more skills and become a great wizard, but he just wanted to go to Japan and India or Rome, anywhere but the cold Scottish highlands. He’d feigned sickness every weekend from the age of ten to eleven, trying to come up with any excuse to not go. Of course, part of this was the sudden realization that despite wanting to explore foreign lands and unfamiliar climates and people, he’d never even left his mother or grandparents. He’d never lived away from home, and despite desperately wanting to be on his own and meet other people, the closer he got to it, the more scared and lonely he got. After painting his face slightly green, which went unnoticed by his mother, he was dragged to Platform 9 and ¾ by his mother and grandmother, decked in his new Hogwarts robes (which they had to buy for him, along with all of his supplies, as he had been pretending he had a case of the goblin flu during the time his letter came). Dedalus secretly cried to himself in the train bathroom for half of the trip. When a prefect asked him what was wrong, he just used allergies to dust as an excuse. The older bloke patted him on the back and assured him it was okay, that it was natural to miss his family, and took him to sit with a compartment of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, which made Dedalus feel comforted. It would be the only time he cried at school, making him realize it was better to pretend everything was alright than admit weakness or ineptness, if only to make friends.

HOGWARTS:

Being sorted into Hufflepuff, the alma mater of his mother, helped slightly as he was with much of his own kind; the talkative, kind, loyal, and deeply caring students of the house. Soon enough, his homesickness had vanished, and he came into his own, reaching his comfort zone; extremely soon, really, after the sorting ceremony, even. All it took for him to lose his worry was a pat on the back by his new housemates after the hat had said his name and the name of his mother’s old house, cheering from the yellow and black table, and them handing him a huge plate of turkey and mash. He’d never felt that happy before, never that accepted and wanted by people other than his mother, and he learned quickly to just give in and throw himself into it, letting his worry and insecurity virtually vanish. Dedalus was talkative and a decent enough student, if easily distracted and absent minded, and in the words of the new transfiguration professor – “lacking in any sense whatsoever.” He was chatty and talkative and always accidentally getting into trouble, but able to talk himself out of it once those who caught him realized he really was that daft and couldn’t have thought to pull any prank whatsoever. He was popular with his Hufflepuffs and other outgoing, cheery students, but made quick enemies (of which he was completely unaware of) with the introverted types that he tried to befriend – as in, every Slytherin student he came across. “I just thought he needed to be cheered up!” was his usual excuse to the healer in the infirmary as he came to her with a freshly broken nose or arm from being beaten up. . .and this happened often. To those not intimidated by his constant good attitude, he made quick friends, many of them girls who wished to go steady with him. He was cute, after all, and always the polite, courteous boy they were encouraged to associate themselves with.

However, that brought up a sort of internal conflict in Dedalus’ mind. He’d never been romantically interested in girls. Sure, he liked being friends with them, but he found out after his first girlfriend that he just couldn’t get past the friendship barrier. He liked being friends with them, but. . .he couldn’t even feel anything when he kissed her. At first, he just figured it wasn’t an issue with him; maybe Daisy Harris wasn’t a good kisser! Instead, he’d always just wanted to focus on. . .well, quite honestly, this Gryffindor friend of his. A bloke. For some reason, the way he felt when he was around was so much better than when he even looked at the most beautiful girls in school. Of course, he knew this was just some weird sort of mistake on Dedalus’ part, and knew it couldn’t be acted on. That summer, when he was fourteen, he tried to ask his mother about it – of course, never actually saying it was HIM. “I have this friend who was trying to ask me if it was normal for. . .” and the conversation went somewhat like that.

All Edwina did was laugh and shake her head, saying that it was ridiculous for a bloke to have a crush on a bloke. She wouldn’t think any of it, in her naive way, and whether or not she was trying to protect herself from the truth or was just too busy with her pie business to even listen fully still makes Dedalus wonder to this day.

Dedalus didn’t know what to think, and was entirely confused, but this curiosity in him had to be settled once and for all. The next school year, during a Quidditch party, when they were both drunk, Dedalus leaned in and kissed the Gryffindor bloke. Apparently, the other boy was far too plastered to realize his schoolmate was snogging him, because soon after that, he closed his eyes and fell asleep. But it was enough for Dedalus to finally realize how he felt about the. . . “situation,” as he referred to it from then on. He wasn’t romantically interested in girls, but he knew he couldn’t actually date a bloke, because it wasn’t acceptable. He’d have to hide his feelings, which he had no problem with, really; he’d been hiding plenty for all of his life.

He’d spent so much time just kind of having fun and making friends during school that his grades were never too high or stand-out. It wasn’t that Dedalus didn’t want to try hard – there were just too many distractions. He was too busy taking photographs with his camera, too preoccupied painting, drawing, and sketching. Often times, his essays that he’d neglected to study for instead had a beautiful sketch of his inkwell - but that didn’t give him the marks. However, in his sixth year, he buckled down and tried hard to get good grades. Leading to a nervous breakdown of sorts in the spring, which he passed off as a bad case of bronchitis, he actually pulled it off, but never really received any outstanding marks. Sometimes he felt like a failure of a Hufflepuff, like he tried so hard and couldn’t get Ravenclaw grades, but that had never been in his best interest. He wanted to spend his life having good friends and good things to make his living situation comfortable.

His seventh year and owls went. . .okay. Not great, not bad, but his mother was proud of him, which was good enough for him. Not a proficient enough student to be a prefect, not high enough in academic rank to become an Auror or Unspeakable in any way, Dedalus graduated and was offered an internship at Witch Weekly - Dumbledore had taken notice of his artistic abilities and did the young man a favour he believed he needed, granted he’d keep an eye on him. Dedalus was absolutely overjoyed with his placement, thinking iit came with the best perks and the most glamour. Also, because the representative man seemed charming and polite, and it had been one of the only pamphlets he’d picked up during Career Day. Photographers and publishing types always had nice offices and clothes, didn’t they?

POST-HOGWARTS:

Before taking the job, the young man was able to spend two weeks of his summer holidays in Paris, a gift from his mother and grandparents. He’d always wanted to go, and they thought it would be a good trial run for perhaps giving him the incentive to move out of their house in Kent - the increased responsibility and freedom in a place that was unfamiliar to him. Instead, Dedalus used up the spending money on food and clothes and spent his holiday in the cheapest muggle hostel he could find. A good portion of that money was also spent on a muggle male prostitute he “accidentally” picked up (not knowing the customs of doing such a thing or what was happening at all, really) in the Latin Quarter. Along with his first trip to Paris, Dedalus had his first sexual experience with a man. . .and didn’t quite like it. It felt invasive, really, and too messy and uncomfortable, and it didn’t quite settle matters in his mind. He didn’t understand, really, but knew it wasn’t quite something he’d like to pick up at another time. Besides, there were other things to worry about.

Still living with his mother, Dedalus took the job as an underpaid intern at Witch Weekly when he left Hogwarts in 1965. He functioned as an odd-job performer and mainly mail-sorter (and tea-fetcher, and kept his head down for three years as he excelled. The senior employees all admired his work ethic and drive, as well as his recommendations for good lunch places around the offices and what to order at muggle kebab shops, at how polite and refined and good-natured he was. Dedalus longed to work with the photographers all the while, though knew he had to work his way up with effort and equal amounts of charm. He was working extra hours to get the money, mainly – he knew if he put in the effort, he’d get back the cash – and thus a nice flat, nice clothes, and would be able to buy expensive tea and lunch. They weren’t the most lofty or noble ambitions at the time. . .or real ambitions at all, apart from the pursuit of his materialistic happiness, but he preferred it that way as a young man.

Dedalus remained an intern and random odd-job man around the offices for three years. He was known for his sprinting ability and being able to keep a pot of tea hot, as well as a charm that curiously made the water taste lemony without actually having any lemons around. However, a twenty-one year old intern wasn’t common, and Dedalus found himself actually wanting a career – that, or he was tired of living in his mother’s house in rural Kent. He always worked hard and believed in himself, put every ounce of determination he had behind a project – precisely what the photographers he hovered around admired in the bloke, and thus, he was given a spot as a photography assistant, allowing his meticulous nature to shine through. He was quickly welcomed onto the team naturally, making many friends in his line of work, despite the jealous enemies, and his loyalty and good-humored attitude shined through. He would do anything for his friends or anyone who needed his help, something that still is present to this day – whether that selflessness is due to ignorance and no common sense whatsoever on his part is always up for question.

What started as a breach of his responsibilities in handling the camera ended up being Dedalus Diggle’s big break. At a Quidditch World Cup photo shoot for the magazine, the senior photographer needed to take an urgent message, leaving the young man with the camera. In a moment of impulsiveness and desire to actually take some pictures of himself, he stepped in and pretended to be the one in charge, as he snapped off many photographs. Instead of being upset for using so much film, his superiors were very impressed with his work, and asked him to do more. A lot more.

Soon, Dedalus was the go-to photographer for Witch Weekly’s high-profile articles - for the covers, for anything that would be seen widely by the public. He did have an artistic flair with the camera, staging shots in motion like small vignettes that had never been seen before. (Dedalus was influenced by muggle contemporary films, actually, which often came off as avant-garde in the heavily-secreted wizarding society.) He had artistic freedom at a very early age, though his vision was more often than not over-the-top and wildly-ambitious with no care for travel costs or risks to subjects. Dedalus saw this as the opportunity to travel while he did his best work, while he was effectively an artist in his own mind, and did just that - in the early 1970’s, Witch Weekly gained a wider audience from those who just wanted to see his work - or wanted to see famous Quidditch players shirtless in the Sahara - “so avant garde”! Either way, it was a win-win. The publication experienced a circulation boom, and Dedalus traveled the world like he’d always wanted. He became quite the seasoned traveler, zipping all over the globe and experiencing everything he’d always wanted to. The downside of this was that he learned a little bit of everything and not enough of a few select things - and muggles were still that foreign, exotic “simple” society he longed to examine under a microscope.

During his time as Chief Photographer for Witch Weekly, Dedalus wrote small travel pieces on food and art and culture for the Daily Prophet, just for extra cash, which was seen as a breach of his contract. Of course, he had no idea, and didn’t see the gravity of the situation. The Daily Prophet wanted Dedalus to work for them anyways for years, and was currently at a bidding war for the creative mind of the man to spruce up their publication. When he was twenty-six, Dedalus left Witch Weekly and went over to the Daily Prophet in a moment of impulse as well, motivated by the promise of higher pay and a higher social status as well.

Editors of the Daily Prophet at the time wanted to give a higher emphasis to style and layout of the “evolving” publication, and instead of being hired on as a photographer, Dedalus Diggle was promoted to overall Art Director, his current line of work at the moment. He serves as a designer of the various prints and types used in the paper, as well as advertising and layout. As well as his official duties, he often is seen as an unofficial mentor and advisor to photographers involved with the paper. Despite the pay raise, Dedalus has still remained in the same small flat in London and still in slight money troubles. He’s not too good at a budget, and still lives from paycheck to paycheck, simply spending much more than he actually recieves - mostly on trips and expensive food and drink. His position at the Daily Prophet doesn’t hold much weight in contrast to say, a reporter or editor or someone else directly shaping public opinion of matters would, but he doesn’t mind too much.

Dumbledore, however, did mind. Or at least, he saw an opportunity and an ally. In 1977, Dedalus Diggle was approached by his former headmaster and given the opportunity to join up - without even as much as a second thought, he clapped his hands and answered with an affirmative. Well, it was more of a squeal, really, and he hadn’t exactly thought of why Dumbledore wanted him on board to this thing he knew very little about indeed, but he couldn’t very well say no, could he? Some of the other members likewise were a bit confused as to why this silly man was invited into the ranks, but he was a hard worker, and selfless, and proved to be a good person to be allied with. . .especially when they saw his Patronus charm. Especially that. He also was great fun to have at parties, and one often needs that positive, cheerleading influence when everything around you goes to shite. So perhaps Dedalus does serve a purpose. Dedalus Diggle is the silver lining of a dark cloud that’s seeming to cover everything in sight more and more. He’s that busybody with the impeccable clothes, trying to reheat lunch as he comes back, pouring over ten parchments at a time. Or, he’s that handsome chap you see trying to order a fancy French steak from the annoyed barmaid at The Leaky Cauldron; usually wearing a purple waistcoat, a matching hat on the empty seat next to him, ready to be quickly swooped away to offer to anyone who wishes to join him for a conversation – where he’ll talk about most everything and anything, all with this polite, gentlemanly smile.

FIVE THINGS:



• Reason 1
- I do love how one of the very first canon details we get about this background character is that he is tiny, he wears a purple hat, and was busy shooting off fireworks after the fall of Voldemort. He’s an idiot, a positive-minded silly idiot, which are really the only characters I’m very good at writing. I think the Order needs their older members who are as reckless as the Marauders, and I think/hope/pray Dedalus fills that.

• Reason 2
- I’ve never really thought about exactly what I want to RP with this character, because I think he works best as improvising anything thrown at him. However, I would like to see him dealing with muggle technology that he knows nothing about - thinking he knows so much and is so wise, and proving otherwise. I’d also like to throw him into places he absolutely hates or would never want to travel to, just to see how long he can keep his composure. I’d love to actually see him in a duel and see how he holds up, as well as how he can find a good niche within the Order and see if they become as tight-knit as he’d want them to all be - at the first (and only) game I played him at, the dynamic of the Order was so amazing and close, I’d love to relive that again. And lastly, I’d like to see how he deals with the more extremist members of the Order, seeing as he’s less vocal and militant about his ideas on society and such. I kind of love character conflict, I admit it.

• Reason 3
- I admit I want to see how much I can work THIS common expression of Dedalus’ into his daily life. Because this is primarily how I see Dedalus every single day of his life.

• Reason 4
- I’ve been interested in how gay characters are handled in HP for quite some time, as I remember when I first started off writing in other HP rpgs I was so exhausted of how every single male character had to be gay or bisexual, and written awfully. I wanted to write one of those “Is he British or gay?” characters for a very long time, and ended up with an excitable fop who thought sex was “too messy and. . gross.” I think I did it wrong, but I think it works as well. I don’t know. We shall see.

• Reason 5
- THIS video. 3:18 and for ten seconds or so. That is pretty much the good summarization of Dedalus Diggle’s existence up until this point in the game. I really am very open to whatever mods have in mind for plots and such, I prefer to throw my guys into the thick of it and see what happens organically. I hope you won’t find me too terribly lazy, really.



STRANDED:
Three items Dedalus needs essential for survival:
One) Wand. He’s a bit needy and dependent on it, never having taken the time to learn “the muggle way to do things.” No, he only reads about those practices in books. If he even so much as forgets where he put his wand he starts to panic. With a wand he often feels rather invincible, even if he’s just as helpless with one most of the time.
Two) Wine. To relax. And for heart health. Really, it’s nothing more than simple logic, Dedalus would say. He would also think up other uses for justifying this - antiseptic in case of emergency infection, alcohol to fuel a fire if need be. . .you get the idea. In actuality, he just always thinks he needs a bottle or three of wine with him at one time.
Three) Wingtips. Yes, shoes. You may think he’s being just fussy and in need of luxury items, but one of his most guarded secrets is the fact that he contracted hookworm during a shoot in the Congo as a younger man, caused by going barefoot in a shallow part of a river. Five days in St. Mungo’s ended up with the parasite being gone, but the fear remains.

One person:
His mother. Probably. He loves his mother and would want her around to try to help him make some sort of food on the island. That’s Dedalus - food is his religion, practically. But of course he’d say he loves his mum and will always be by her side.
Or this muggle that he’s fantasized about since the age of fifteen named Rock Hudson. Because he seems like he’d know what to do to survive marooned on an island. Yes. That’s why.

Dedalus’ Personal Hell:
No wand. As long as he has his wand, he’s pretty much okay, he believes. He puts all his naive hope and faith into the wand and thinks he’s infallible as long as he has it. It is a security blanket for him.

JOURNAL ENTRY: First Person - Dedalus and overseas post.
RP SAMPLE: Third-person log in which I play Barnabas Cuffe