Oliver Bekley

Oliver Bekley
Goes by: Ollie
Gender: Male
Height: Below Average

Blood status: Halfblood
Raised in: Mixed
Home: Unlisted in Residential Areas.

Boggart: A large clown-like monster shaped from smoke. Its eyes glow orange as it breathes out a trail of smoke that heads towards him -- as if to surround / eat him completely.

Patronus: Unknown

Note: Oliver suffers with a stutter when he speaks. How prominent it is depends on his emotions, and also those he's around when he talks. With those he is closest to, it's barely noticed unless his emotional state is highly affected.
Upon first meeting, Oliver is a rather quiet young man. He has a big heart and doesn't always remember to protect it. He is more comfortable with smaller groups when socializing -- rarely volunteering to join in on larger groups.

While he doesn't speak up in conversations a whole lot, he notices things that others might not; he's observant, and it shows with thoughtfulness in actions rather than words -- doing little things, such as saving a favorite dessert for a friend so they don't miss out. If he spots someone who appears to be hurt or upset, he will always stop and check on them. And attempt to do something to make things even a little better.

He's not very talkative. That isn't to say that he doesn't speak -- he does, but how comfortable he feels with those around him truly shows in his mannerisms and how much he's willing to talk. With family and the closest friends, his stuttering is far less -- usually forming in the occasional stumble, rather than a full stutter. If he's upset or excited, it'll be more noticeable. But he rarely gets embarrassed or upset with himself if it occurs with those he fully trusts and cares about.

Around those he barely knows, or strangers, it happens a bit more obviously; a stumble, and look of utter frustration with himself when he has to repeat himself. Due to past experiences, he often becomes more upset with himself if the stutter is addressed or pointed out in some way.

With patience and gentle guidance, and a lot of reassurance, Oliver's stuttering has lessened over the years. Both Oliver and those close to him have grown used to it, which helped Oliver's own confidence. Though it's rare these days to have what he dubs "flair ups", there are some things that cause it to become worse -- mainly if he becomes extremely stressed or upset; his emotional state certainly still holds a lot of control over his speech.

Having Oliver as someone who cares about you isn't to be taken lightly; he's extremely protective of those he's close to -- particularly if someone dares to wrong one of his siblings. While it's rare for him to get physical, his protectiveness is something that can bring out a different side of Oliver. He is always careful in planning out his actions, ensuring no one will come to permanent harm -- yet still remind them that those who are his friends / family are not to be messed with.

"Actions speak louder than words," is a lesson taught from his grandfather. Oliver lives by it every day.

From a young age, Oliver found comfort in drawing -- art being something he could do without needing to talk to those around him. Rarely would he need to speak up like he might have to in a class, always worrying about being teased if his stutter flared up. With art, he could escape -- just focus on what he was doing, and not worry about what someone might say or do.

Sketching has become main platform to work on, as he began putting more into each piece. It is not uncommon for him to lose track of time while working on a new 'piece' of some kind. He has multiple sketchbooks tucked away, with their pages filled with images of people and things that caught his eye -- yet few see the fully finished products, other than his family members.
Oliver born to a young couple who weren't planning on children so soon -- barely a few months into a relationship and suddenly expecting a child was part of their plans. Yet he was welcome into the world in the early morning hours, to a seemingly normal or even average young couple. Oliver was immediately doted on, despite money being tight.

Two years later, he became a big brother. His sister Isabella was welcomed with the same love and care that he'd received. 

Things continued rather normally for the little family, just as it'd always been... until Oliver first began showing signs of magic. His accidental bursts shook their family; his father had been disowned when it was discovered he was a Squib -- a heartbreaking, yet sadly not uncommon, result among some magical families.

He'd never told his Muggle wife about the magical line in his birth family -- and there was bitterness in realising his son, Oliver, had magic and he didn't. Oliver's sudden magical abilities resulted in arguments between the couple, which further worsened when his little sister showed the same signs of magic. What had once been a happy little family, quickly crumbled...

The bitterness and arguments reached boiling point -- leaving the children in the care of their aging grandfather, Archie, who did the best he could. A Muggle on their mother's side, Archie hadn't known magic existed himself until the children were left with little but a bag of clothing and toys each, and a letter.

But with two active and magical children running around, Archie's age and the situation slowly took a toll on the man who tried his hardest for the grandchildren he loved. It wasn't long before they were placed in foster care. Their grandfather kept in contact, as much as he was allowed -- and wrote letters for future important moments of their lives.

While he was unable to care for them or raise them himself, he made it absolutely clear that he loved them very much. They were important. His grandchildren were all he had left in the world, and he'd fight to ensure they had the best that he could promise them -- even if he'd miss being there for it.

By age five, Oliver had shifted between several different foster homes. Some were good, and others... well, they left mental scars that he did his best to shield his sister from. No matter where they ended up, the siblings stuck together. They were a package deal, which made it harder to find them a permanent home. But their grandfather was promised that splitting them up would never happen, and he made sure that promise was kept.

So they continued to move around. Oliver was often teased or worse by older kids for the way he stumbled over words, struggling with his verbalisation. What was "cute" to some adults, was regarded as a problem to others.

The younger kids, closer to his sister's age, were easier to talk to. Oliver began looking out for them too -- telling them which big kids to avoid, and helping with whatever they needed. Especially if he promised he would; heeding his grandfather's words that one's word was everything when they had so little else. It stuck with Oliver, even after the kind old man was gone.

Though they didn't know it at the time -- when Oliver was seven, he and his sister were in their last foster home. It wasn't the worst, but still a long way from the best.

Oliver woke as smoke filled the room he shared with other kids -- most who were crying or yelling. Everything was hot, and the doorknobs too. Even as a young child himself, Oliver managed to break a window and exhausted himself lifting the kids to safety. He kept them outside until help arrived, each kid and his sister clinging to seven-year-old Oliver. They were all coughing and crying, but otherwise unharmed.

Except Oliver himself, who suffered many burns -- and had to walk barefoot over the glass of the broken window. 

The strange thing was that he wasn't sure how he'd broken the window, yet someone seemed to understand it. All Oliver knew is that someone else became in charge of things, and he was taken to a magical place to be treated. His grandfather had once said magic was real, but Oliver hadn't known what he meant.



It was at Saint Mungo's, following the fire, that Oliver met the kind lady who would go on to adopt him and his sister -- a Healer named Lyrica Bekley. Oliver was eight by the time it was made official, and Isabella had just turned six. 

Oliver had nightmares for months after the fir; his body had healed, but his mind still struggled. Being an imaginative child, sometimes his nightmares melded together with other fears -- like the scary clown from a movie he'd seen some older folder kids watching once. Its teeth were sharp; perfect for eating little children.

Despite the sometimes confusing nightmares, he was glad to be out of foster care. Perhaps because he was a bit older, Oliver adjusted to their new family and home at a slower pace than his sister -- particularly when it came to trust. His stuttering was still quite bad at first, and he'd have periods of utter silence where he'd write down his words instead. His loving mothers were patient and knew he just needed time. At his own pace.

The weight of having to protect his sister all the time was also lifted, as he had help now. Oliver also had older siblings to look out for him too -- a brother, and two big sisters. They told him all about the magic school they went to, but also how to ride a bike like the big kids did. His family was warm and gave gentle hugs; they helped him if he was upset, and didn't tell if he had to stop and repeat his words when it was hard to talk. They even encouraged his interest in art, with plenty of sketchbooks to fill up. 

Oliver finally had a home to call his own.



His older siblings were already attending Hogwarts when Oliver was adopted, so he didn't know waht that process looked like -- only that his letter would arrive when he was eleven. A part of him was excited, and the other part terrified of leaving the home he finally had. He even worried maybe he wouldn't get accepted to the magic school. 

But he did. It was Isabella who noticed the anticipated letter first -- letting out a loud scream of joy as she rushed to his side, and knocked him in the face with his own letter as she announced it had arrived.

It got very busy after that, with him shifting between excitement and fear. Oliver enjoyed the shopping trip, including the purchase of his very own wand. He sat for hours that night, looking over his new school books with his little sister chattering at his side. And when the day finally arrived, he helped pack everything up the night before. 

But fear and worry kicked in, the morning he was due to make the journey to Hogwarts. He fought to hold back tears, clinging to a stuffed dragon he'd been given the day he was adopted.  But his family helped him, including with promises to write many letters, and he did eventually step onto the train. His older siblings helped him through it, right there at his side when boarding.

His first year at Hogwarts was rough, but it brought him closer to his older siblings knowing that he was away from home but still had family close by. If he ever needed them, they were there. So used to backing Isabella up, it was affirming to have an older sibling back him up. That was a huge moment for him as an adopted child.

While he still struggled, especially with speaking in class (and with memories of being teased for it), things got easier in time -- especially by his second year. Rarely did anyone say something about his stuttering at Hogwarts, thankfully enough.

But prior to his third year, another important letter arrived. This time, his sister would be be joining Oliver at Hogwarts. A lot of his third year was looking out for her and making sure she had a great first year -- while of course making sure not to fall behind on his own studies. One habit did carry over from foster care though, as he was often spotted helping the first years in her class as well. In case they needed help with something. Not everyone had helpful older siblings like he did.

Third year at Hogwarts was the easiest one by far, which Oliver felt far more settled and happier. Now a fourth year, he also finds time for himself when not helping his sister out or hanging with friends who didn't mind his stutter at all. Oliver was usually seen with a sketchbook in hand, his fingers darkened from charcoal -- and sporting some smudges on his ace too, from brushing stray hair aside.

It was a long journey to get here, but Oliver had finally found his place at home and at school. He was safe now -- able to focus more on his own interests, and finding out what sort of person he was or wanted to be.