#❛ v .

[eddisgon-blog]

BERK ATAN? No, that’s actually EDGAR BONES from the MARAUDERS ERA. You know, the child of ENDER BONES and IRMAK BONES (NÉE KUNDAKÇI)? Only 29 years old, this GRYFFINDOR alumni works as an UNSPEAKABLE and is sided with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. HE identifies as CIS-MAN and is a PUREBLOOD who is known to be RECKLESS, BELLIGERENT, and INTRANSIGENT but also TENACIOUS, JUST, and ASTUTE. — &&. ( CAMI, GMT, SHE/HER, 19. )

TW: death, child death, blood, alcoholism (vaguely)

yoho guess what, edgar is a reckless idiot who somehow has gotten even more reckless and yall are gonna have to put up with it! he’s also just as likely as harry to name his next kid albus so there’s that tidbit of info. his favourite colour is lilac. now here’s some worse info:

I.

the child of relevant members of wizarding community AND purebloods, things could have gone much differently for edgar, but that’s a fact he’s taken long to comprehend. the role his loving family, that believed in him every step of the way, played is one of love for edgar, but not something he’d, until rather recently, attribute to the way his story goes - not the way his story ends. their values, their love, their care, his siblings; they were truly so important in the makings of him.

irmak and ender were a strong tree, with branches all around him for protection, softening every blow and fall.  their safety and encouragement nurtured a deep desire within him to do whatever he set his mind to, regardless of the consequences. after all, if he tried hard enough, he’d get all of his wishes. as a child, edgar wasn’t learning how to fly a broomstick as fast as his friends and siblings, and he didn’t have any particular wish to take the heights, but his assumed failure only propelled him to try harder. for hours upon hours, he’d lose balance, fall to the ground and then get back up, knees dripping blood. his father found him at dinnertime, taking rounds around the house, conquering for the sake of conquering alone.

that tenacity never left the boy, determining his future within the gryffindor bravado, his push for better grades, his detentions and self-made heartbreaks, all because the riot in him would not let him stand still. hexes and kicks, edgar quickly became known as one not to anger, a likely future brutal auror, given his yearning for justice even after the smallest of infractions, like a group calling a muggleborn slurs after potions class - because the world was his to conquer, should he chose to, and he had nothing else to choose. 

entitled, they called him. edgar always prefer to see himself as an idealist instead. 

the moral code passed down by his family was instrumental in the shaping of who he became. eddie always knew wrong from right, and that certainty let him see the world as black or white, with no room for the indecisions his classmates exhibited, or the inconsistencies of the ministry, every newspaper headline contradictory with the previous. the world around him seemed to tip toe and edgar knew only how to slam in. 

his ways kept him close with a variety of friends, but especially to the other rowdy ones, unafraid to speak their minds and go just far enough to be thrown in detention once more. his ways also cost him the biggest thing he’d been after all of hogwarts: the prefect badge. 

II.

becoming an auror had a certain allure to it. an outlet for the flaming energy inside him, and for his yearning for justice, being a source of scenarios in which he could play the detective, a role he so enjoyed. training was brutal, however, and every day passed, his desire to live forever beneath a badge kept diming. edgar’s lack for motivation was noticeable, as if the light in his eyes had purely shut off, and his mates encouraged him to pursue other paths.

politics was out of the question, too grey for him. healing bored him to death (and he was never that great at herbology anyway). eddie considered journalism for a while, but the likely future of a dusty desk at the daily prophet, carrying out their at times sensationalist work, made him not want to read a newspaper ever again. but edgar couldn’t be adrift. he’d made damn sure all his life he was pushing himself to be the very best possible, edgar with a plan, edgar ready to make a dent on the world. to accept defeat would have very easily broken him. 

after short stints in ministry offices (from clerk, which lasted all of four days, to secretary, security, forgotten offices who’d hire pretty much anyway with decent grades) he became a hit wizard. his intellect suffered, not through any fault of his coworkers, but due to it being so damn close to auror work, except he couldn't call the shots, not could he investigate, piece together the puzzles like he so loved. in the meantime, he’d sought direction in life elsewhere: that pretty girl from the bar just at the end of his street whose talks of muggle films and news had always kept him for hours, drink in hand, too enthralled to sip. he hated the trickery of politics but he could hear her explaining the iron curtain for hours. anna had stuck around through every change, knowing little of the context of it all. then a little more. and a little more. small breaches of wizard law, small TREASONS. he’d moved in with her, shown her a spell or two. in a few years she was meeting his family, watching his cousins fly in a broom, reading his newspapers with the moving images and scary news of impending conflict. (even marrying the fool, later down the line)

hit wizard work is brutal, and it began to show. despite being an outlet for his inner riot, it put him in vulnerable positions, and anna worried - that simply had to stop. especially when she became pregnant. 

to this day, eddie isn’t certain who dropped his name in the department of mysteries - he suspects his father, or perhaps dumbledore, who’d begun seeing him more often (he did enjoy placing pawns in place, not that edgar would acknowledge such a grey-area) - the young man found a letter inside one of his kitchen cabinets. another later that day inside his pocket. he as being summoned, should he wish to go. an interview followed. for hours, edgar sat - lies, he paced around in excitement - solving puzzles, enigmas, philosophical debates; the stuff he left at hogwarts and at auror training. at last, something that brought that light back, filling him with interest. there were no limits, no bureaucratic doors closing - the questions were secret and so were his answers. the puzzle solver was hired the following day, circling through various sub-departments until he got settled doing research on the subject of death a year before the shift of time. the questions that troubled him the most involved immortality and the concept of a chronological finish line. he laughs at that now. 

the secrecy of his job was always the hardest part. eddie was never one to keep secrets, especially not when excitement ran through him, and he often spilled results and theories that had been found just because he couldn’t contain his excitement in.

sidenote: he’s a very gestural person. speaking for edgar means moving around, big physical gestures, arms flaying, a proper demonstration.

the conscience instilled in him in the past was raw energy when combined with his entitlement.the very same characteristics were what drew dumbledore to him, with a position in mind. edgar couldn’t say no to a side-job as a revolutionaire.  there, along with his work, was a change to leave something of value behind. plus, he had personal skin in the game then. his future wife was a target, he was a traitor, his children heresy. 

eddie had, as well, his experience as a hit wizard, which made him useful for field work. that same bravado and need to fix the world made him devoted with reckless abandon. dumbledore was a figure he worshipped, unable to see the flaws in their own plans. there was no way he could have made himself bigger of a target during the war, especially when it was not nearly as quiet of a fact as it should have been that he was an unspeakable, with access to untold knowledge - especially one his enemies looked for. a traitor who knew too much and was too damn stupid to keep that to himself. edgar was a man with lots to lose living in the shoes of a man with nothing to lose. 

that very year brougth another major event besides new career, the order and his first child: the murder of his parents, in the very hosue he’d grown up in, the very hosue his younger sister still lived in. visibly freaking the mold, perhaps even called traitors, the bones were a proeminent thorn in need of ripping out, and edgar got lost in the confusion of the year. he let it fuel him, of course, but he didn’t allow himself to properly grieve, nor to be present for his siblings who also needed to grieve. from a young age he’d been told to walk away if he was angry, to not mix such a horrible feeling and family, and that’s just what he did. the world was broken and it burned him from inside out so he stepped away and dealt with it (poorly) on his own, a decision that came to haunt him the following year once the dust settled. he’d left them, the one promise edgar couldn’t have broken - they’d needed each other and he’d left. not that he’s apologised as of yet, all these years, but the shame of his decision comes to light at times.

III. (the death tw and child death tw applies very heavily in this whole part)

the future comes with many harsh truths to take in. they won, but not really. the world had barely changed, so what was the point of all the sleepless nights, all the wounds he’d healed, all the missions he’d led? what was the point of standing proud in front of the masked foes? what was the point of burying his friends one by one? what was the point of dying as his children cried upstairs?

those were the news that truly shock him. edgar knew he’d get himself killed eventually, even if he did his best to deny it. but reckless, he didn’t think they’d come for anna, or for his three children. he’d set up protections, just in case, of course - wards around the house and portkeys in specific places meant for emergency escapes - but how could have expected a terrified seven year old to remember where they kept the music box that would take her to grandma’s house? the futility of it all hit him like a wave. 

edgar dug in as soon as he learned, damned be the questions his line of work had taught him to ask. time didn’t matter, not at all. what did was the bloodshed his story told. which friends wouldn’t have made it either. his sister, who’d survive only to have to fight the same war again, with worst odds. himself. his family. a bottle of firewhiskey next to the folders he’d gotten from ministry friends and connections. both vices, drinking and learning the painful details of the truth, were self-destructive tendencies he’d thought he’d long escaped. perhaps that was the bones curse, to always crawl back to whatever wrecked them even more in times of hurt.

every newspaper article, trial transcript and even the crime scene photographs he chased hell and below to get his hands on. it was addictive, to learn exactly how much he could blame himself, how much he could blame the war, and who he should exert vengeance on. by now, he knows how to draw a timeline of the event better than any auror on the case, minute by minute, victim by victim, player by player; as he obsessed over it for the first week and a half, non-stop. 

they’d followed him for days, believing him to be a way to the prophecies they searched, or to answers they might seek. and to take down a traitor. a rebel traitor at that. he’d been too blind to notice. they’d chipped slowly at his wards. they’d broken in one wednesday night, at dinner time, shortly before anna and the children had gotten home. edgar didn’t see them there when he put away his coat, when he saw the bags of takeout on the kitchen counter, when he asked the eldest, dahlia, if she had homework to do. like rats in the walls. 

he’d died downstairs. edgar broke a chair against the wall when he learned. he’d died downstairs, hand reaching up, head rested on the second step. after short but brutal torture, in which he seemed to have revealed more secrets than most whistleblowers, he still died downstairs, his moral sacrifice for nothing - but he was probably desperate, he thought, desperate to reach up, where anna, dahlia, oscar and oliver hid, from where he heard his son yell for him, from where he heard the toddler cry, from where he eventually heard anna scream in horror. even if he’d died upstairs too, he just wanted to be there, the last barrier between the world he’d brought upon his family and them. no matter how much furniture and vases she threw at death eaters, anna came to a wand fight ill prepared, and she was the first to go. the small one in her arms too. oscar followed, holding a shoe - it was the wrong one, the portkey shoe just a meter away. and edgar tried to run, to climb, but he remained downstairs, not nearly as close. dahlia was later, he read, assumingly because she was the hardest to find - underneath a bed. 

three weeks. that’s all he had until then. if the time shift had happened three weeks later, he’d be dead. 

the aftermath was a mess. muggle neighbours heard yelling and called the police while aurors arrived, but not soon enough to stop the confusing murder of a whole household from hitting local news. in 2029, it’s a cold case, has been for decades. but edgar had learned the truth wizardkind knew and he let him fuel him. after darkness, he bounced back with the flaming hope that made him join the order: he could change things. if he tried hard enough, harder than LAST time. if he just worked hard enough, edgar could fix this and forget there’s a grave with his name - but he can’t. ever since it happened, he visits it nearly weekly. it was looking old, nearly forgotten, like the world had moved on without him, without his family, without amelia, without his fallen revolutionary friends. he’s cleaned them up, put some flowers on them. you see, this time he’s actually a man with nothing to lose, nothing he hasn’t lost before. 

no amount of puzzle solving can erase the fact that he should not exist right now - edgar feels very much alive, perhaps more than ever before, now that blinding rage courses through him and now that the past is past and he has nothing to lose by trying a new timeline. but another him, just a few WEEKS older, is bone and dirt beneath a tombstone in his hometown, so now he searches for answers.

edgar is driven by the riot in his head, still very much the son of the revolution, even if his war ended forty-eight years ago.

NOW who’s ready for some character paralels? shadow moon (american gods), luke bankole (handmaids tale), meredith grey (grey’s anatomy), steven crain (thohh), elijah bradley (marvel), quentin coldwater (the magicians), sabrina spellman (tcaos), jessica jones (mcu) ?????

[eddisgon-blog]

WANTED CONNECTIONS !

read more to find out some simple connections i’d love to have for eddie and hmu for further plotting !!

CHILDHOOD MEMORIES: being from a relevant pureblood family, events, birthdays, weddings and the such always happened, so people in and around his age (29) he befriended very young - and perhaps those friendships remained, some fizzled out, others were abruptly broken with divirging ideologies from hogwarts-on. children of ministry workers would work out great as well, regardless of blood status, aka coworkers of his father (and even coworkers of his mother!)

HOGWARTS MEMORIES: children his year and around it, from friends to roommates (he was a gryffindor) to those he annoyed and, especially, those who angered him. edgar had a particular distaste for bullies of the blood purist kind and got into duels and physical scruffles with them often. as for friends, especially the rowdier type who would be willing to get in trouble with him and take eddie along for their own.

AUROR CLASS: straight out of hogwarts, in (???) 1969/1970, edgar enrolled in the auror program, but didn’t go very far, quitting a bit over halfway through. this applies to people he met in his class and older aurors who’d have taught him and let him shadow them towards the end.

MINISTRY TIMES: after quitting the aurors, edgar did various short stints all throughout the ministry, not lasting longer than a few weeks in each position, always bored out of his mind and quitting mid-day. he could have, however, befriended people along the way, so this applies to truly any ministry worker character.

HIT WIZARDS: he then became a hit wizard for nearly 3 years, and was always the one trying to get into more of the investigative part of crime than his job provided, being seen as some as a wannabe auror rather than a good hit wizard. so both coworkers who criticized that and people who enjoyed working with him, especially since hit wizard work is so like swat-team, it makes so much sense that there’d be a lot of deep camaraderie?? 

CENSORED ONES: ever since that he’s worked for the department of mysteries, slowly rising in its ranks. he’s a curious man who get rather excited about the work he does, which often led to him sharing more than he should with outsiders. that sort of attitude got him in small trouble a few times, but could have definitely been something that bubbled up with some coworkers. give me invested workplace friendships too though! as well as current unspeakables or unspeakables who’ve learned of his death confessions since the shift, and who don’t trust his return to the job.

THE ORDER: highly devoted, the order was edgar’s true purpose in life, its mission his legacy, and the people in it his true friends. now he struggles with the concept of anyone having betrayed the order (especially given how he always believed that if they’d been approved by dumbledore, they’d be deserving of his entire trust). but the sense of camaraderie and friends at war is still there, and he’s a devoted soldier, ready to kill or die for any of them. 

THE ORDER II: some, however, certainly don’t feel the same way. some used to see him as dumbledore’s soldier, not the order’s, and likely a someone just seeking the power of being close with the man. others now, knowing of the secrets he told at his death, fear giving him information at all. 

SHUNNED: people who were his friends, or at least positive connections of his, but put him aside once he married his muggle girlfriend, becoming officially a full-on blood traitor. this is a very personal animosity and betrayal. 

THE GUILTY ONES: those who are to blame for edgar’s murder. the act was done by a small yet effective group, but in which only maybe 2 were caught and went to azkaban. the rest know what they’ve done(would have done, but the public and edgar have no idea. 

[eddisgon-blog]

tags drop!!

❛   i   .   |   how  long  ago  did  i  die ?   where  was  i  buried ?   ;   threads .

❛   ii   .   |   cause  i  carried  on  like  the  wayward  son  and  now  through  and  through  i’ve  come  undone  ;   musings .

❛   iii   .   |   you  are  a  church  of  broken  glass  and  hallelujahs  ;   mirror .

❛   iv   .   |   and  the  leaves  fall  one  by  one  by  one  by one   ;   the bones .

❛   v   .   |  prophets  are  awfully  quiet  -  it’s  as  if  they  know  only  of  answers   ;   headcanons .

❛   vi   .   |  i  am  being  perfectly  fucking  civil   ;   ask memes .

❛   vii   .   |   a  character  study  ;   tasks .

❛   viii   .   |   tomorrow  there’ll  be  more  of  us   ;   main verse .