Character Info--
Age: 83, born February 29, 1936
Graduation: Ravenclaw, 1954
OWLs/NEWTs: OWLs: Transfiguration - A (barely), Charms - E, Potions - A, DADA - A, History of Magic - O, Ancient Runes - E, Divination - P
NEWTs: History of Magic - O, Ancient Runes - O, Charms - E, DADA - A
History: Peter Parish first met Elizabeth Winthrope at a play in London. He had gone alone to see a performance of Henry VIII and found himself seated near a party of young women. The nearest to him, Elizabeth, struck up a conversation with him during the intermission, and they spoke again after the play ended. Peter asked her to accompany him to a ball, and she accepted with pleasure. Elizabeth was only seventeen, still in school, and Peter was just beginning his doctorate work, but they kept in touch during the school year (Elizabeth routed letters through her older sister). The summer after Elizabeth's graduation, Peter asked her to marry him. She hesitated, then told him the truth: She was a witch, a recent graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where she had been in Gryffindor. Peter laughed and told her that for all he cared, she could be the Faerie Queen; all that mattered was he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. She assented, and they were wed two years later, after Peter graduated with his Ph.D. and took a position as a lecturer at Newcastle University. Their first son, Kipling Ewan, was born nine months later.

Fletcher Owen Parish was born at home on February 29th, with his father and brother right in the other room. He was an incredibly ugly baby, red and wrinkled and scrawny, with a thatch of hair lying every which way, but his mother declared he was beautiful. After a few weeks, he began to fill out and look less like, as Kip put it, a fig and more like a real baby. Always a skinny toddler, Fletcher nonetheless learned to stand, then to walk by pulling himself around on the furniture. His first word, at thirteen months, was his brother's name--Kick, the closest he could get to Kip.

Growing up in a university town was heaven for Fletcher. His mother taught him to read at the age of four, and as soon as he was permitted to read on his own he started on one of his father's course books. Peter by this time had been a full professor for five years. For a whole glorious year, Fletcher tagged along to his father's classes, handing him his notes and helping pass out and collect papers. Professor Parish's history courses were among the most popular, his lectures the most highly attended, and the students developed a fondness for the little dark-haired boy. One in particular, Sam Hall, took a liking to Fletcher, who considered the young man his best friend in the world.

But that world was changing. Fletcher was too young to understand who Hitler was and what the grown-ups were upset about, but when Sam didn't come back for the summer term, he asked his father why not. Peter took his five-year-old son on his knee and reminded him of his lectures on the Great War. He explained that, just as it had back then, Germany had started a war, and that all the brave young men of England were being called to help fight in it. When he put the current situation in a historical context, Fletcher understood, but he was worried. He found a book on the Great War and stayed up late that night reading. The next morning, he took the book to his father and showed him a page full of statistics--the number of dead. He asked his father if that meant people would die this time too. Peter explained that, yes, people died in wars.

"Then, Papa, can you go and take care of Sam?" Fletcher asked, his blue eyes wide with childish innocence, believing that his father could truly protect anyone he desired. "Can you make sure he comes back? Please?"

Peter had already considered joining the service--and he was fond of Sam, who was one of his best students--but his son's innocent plea cemented his decision. He discussed the matter with Elizabeth, then left at the end of the summer term to enlist in the Royal Navy. Kip went on with his life as though nothing was happening, but Fletcher avidly listened to any war news and one night asked his mother how she knew it all. Elizabeth showed him the newspaper and explained how it knew what was going on. Fletcher was fascinated by the idea of writing true stories--just like writing letters to Papa--and having the whole world read them. He began reading the paper daily--both the Daily Prophet and the Muggle newspaper that got delivered to their house--to find out what was going on. Peter ended up on the H.M.S. Quorn, and Fletcher faithfully helped his mother write every day. One day, in addition to Peter's letter to the family, there was a second letter to Fletcher. Sam had been transferred to the Quorn as well and willingly wrote to his young friend back in England. Fletcher was over the moon and kept both Peter and Sam updated on the history department at the university.

In early August of 1944, Fletcher finally saw what he had been looking for--the name of his father's ship in the paper. The Quorn had been involved in the so-called "Operation Neptune", and had come under heavy fire. The ship had sunk, and according to the paper, one hundred and eighty personnel had died. Fletcher cried himself to sleep that night, but the next day there was a telegraph from Peter, who had survived the incident and was resting in a hospital. By Christmas he was home for good, having been given a medical discharge. Fletcher, now eight years old, ran to meet his father and gave him a hug. Peter sat down on the sofa with Fletcher and told him, gently, that Sam wasn't coming home. He had been killed instantly when the ship was blown up.

Fletcher seemed to sink into himself, burying himself in his history books and the scrapbooks he had kept of all the war news. From there he branched out into reading whatever archived newspapers he could get his hands on. By the time he started Hogwarts three years later, he was a quiet, studious boy with a love of history, a loyalty to the military, and a hatred of violence and war and those who insisted on causing it. He was Sorted into Ravenclaw and set about carving a place for himself there. He also by then had a baby sister, Jessica, but the gap in their ages was so broad that he scarcely knew her. However, throughout his entire Hogwarts career he never neglected to write her every day, as he remembered how it felt to get letters as a little boy.

While at Hogwarts, Fletcher decided to become the best student in his class. He was disappointed to learn that there was no university after graduating Hogwarts, but he cheered himself up with the thought that perhaps he could take over History of Magic from Professor Binns, who would surely realize by then that he was dead. His third year he added Ancient Runes and Divination to his course schedule; he did quite well at the former and quite poorly at the latter, and was quite glad to drop Divination after his fifth year. In fact, the only good thing that came out of Divination, as he said later, was that he met Maggie.

Magdalene Sprenkle sat two seats over from Fletcher in Divination; by the end of the first term, she had shifted her seats to be sitting next to him. The two became very good friends. They both shared the same unusual birthday, February 29th, and thus joked that they were "the youngest students in the history of Hogwarts" because they had "only had three birthdays". When they were in the fifth year, Fletcher worked up the nerve to ask her out; she accepted immediately. They dated steadily until their seventh year, and then Fletcher asked her to marry him. Maggie agreed, and three days after their Hogwarts graduation, they married in the university chapel at Newcastle.

Fletcher had not forgotten his scrapbooks, nor his fascination with newspapers, and upon learning that Hogwarts would not hire him until he had gained some experience, he applied for a job at the Daily Prophet. For the first two years of their marriage, he and Maggie lived in a two-room flat in London. When Maggie learned she was pregnant, however, Fletcher started looking for a bigger place and finally settled on a neat, tidy cottage in Tadcaster, West Yorkshire. They moved in three months before their first son was born. Fletcher named him Samuel, after his lost friend.

He was happier than he had been in a long time. His family was expanding, as was his career; he had gone from being a cub reporter to writing articles that appeared on the front page of the paper. His parents were thrilled with their first grandchild, Kip and his new bride were excited about their nephew, and Fletcher's sister Jessica was just starting at Hogwarts as a Gryffindor. As far as he was concerned, life just couldn't get any better. Three years later, of course, life did get better: Fletcher and Maggie welcomed a second son, John. Sammy and Jack were joined four years later by a third son, Walter.

Fletcher had begun, in addition to his work for the Prophet, to write a series of twice-weekly columns for Witch Weekly about his family and his life in the very Muggle town of Tadcaster. When Sammy started Hogwarts four years after Wally's birth, Fletcher wrote a passionate, emotional treatise on his feelings watching his son pull away from the train station, the thoughts running through his mind; the article won a prize, which Maggie hung on the wall. It was good enough that the Prophet picked up his columns, upped them to five days a week, and offered him a raise for the position, which he happily accepted.

The following spring, Maggie gave birth to their fourth and final child: a girl, Theresa Rose. Fletcher loved his sons with all his heart, but he was completely enthralled by his little daughter. Tessie had her father wrapped around her little finger from Day One. He wrote a column about her birth, marvelling at the wonder of the baby: "I look at her tiny nose, her tiny fingers, her tiny perfect toes, and I think to myself: Why would any higher powere have entrusted her to me? She's so fragile, so delicate...I am not worthy of her." Four happy, healthy children. Fletcher was content.

Six years later, when Sammy graduated from Hogwarts, two people retired from the Prophet: the editor and the archivist. The owner of the paper offered Fletcher his choice of those two jobs. To the owner's surprise, he elected to take the position of archivist. His job now consisted of cataloguing, sorting, and preserving back copies of the paper, going back as far as the Prophet had existed. Fletcher was thrilled with the position, and proud of his oldest son, who was accepted into the Auror program. Jack, just beginning his fifth year, was a Beater on his house Quidditch team; Wally was just starting his first year; Tessie was starting school. Fletcher went about his work cheerfully.

Fletcher had heard about the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named--he did, after all, read the papers--and he discussed it seriously with Maggie. Maggie's mother and Fletcher's father were both in danger, but they kept in close contact. Fletcher was most worried about Tessie, who was attending the local Muggle school, and strictly enforced a policy of having her home by dark. If any of her friends were over at the house and did not go home by the time it got dark, he insisted they stay the night, so worried was he that something could happen, even in their little town. He became obsessively protective of his daughter and, by extension, her friends. When trouble struck, however, it was not to Tessie.

Sammy had taken a flat in London when he got accepted into the Auror training program, but he visited his parents once a fortnight for dinner and to spend time with Tessie. They were pleased as punch the day he completed the program and started work as a full-fledged Auror. About a year later, Fletcher answered a knock at the door to discover Sammy's partner on the stoop, his face streaked with tears. A raid had gone horribly wrong, a Death Eater going into captivity had managed to get his hands on a wand and fought back viciously. Sammy had saved his partner's life, knocking him to one side out of the path of a spell, at the cost of his own. Fletcher hugged the young man comfortingly, at the same time feeling numb and empty inside. His son was dead.

For the next few months, Fletcher buried himself in his work, in comforting his wife and his daughter, in trying to pick up the pieces of his life. Jack had considered joining the Auror program, following his brother's footsteps, but Fletcher told him that Maggie's heart couldn't stand it. In truth, Fletcher didn't know that he could stand it either. It was about this time that he began the small feature column, This Day In History, just to give himself something constructive to do. Not only did it help keep him grounded, but it gradually healed the hole in his heart. Within a year, he was almost back to his old self. Two years after Sammy's death, a junior reporter excitedly burst into the archives and breathlessly informed Fletcher that You-Know-Who had been defeated. When Fletcher inquired as to where Harry Potter would be now, the reporter looked puzzled and admitted that he didn't know. Fletcher said a silent prayer for Harry--wherever he was--and resolved to keep an eye out for the boy in the future. In the back of his mind, however, he couldn't help but wish that the defeat had been a little sooner.

The years turned. Fletcher kept steadily at his work, and his "This Day in History" feature was becoming increasingly popular. Three dates, however, always carried the same article. August 3 always carried a brief description of the sinking of the H.M.S. Quorn. June 15 always carried an article about the ill-aspected attempt to capture the Auror who had killed Sammy. And October 31 always carried a mention of the attack on the Potters. Inquiries to the paper about the former two dates were published with an explanation that Fletcher Parish had lost a dear friend and his valiant son, respectively, during the two incidents.

In 1994 when Rita Skeeter began publishing her articles on Harry Potter, Fletcher was furious. He went to the publisher and angrily demanded that the man stop accepting articles from Skeeter. When the man explained that her articles sold paper, Fletcher resigned; resigned from the work he loved, said he would find some other work. The publisher urged him to take time to think it over--Fletcher was a valued worker. When Rita Skeeter mysteriously stopped writing articles after Harry Potter won the tournament, Fletcher finally gave in and returned. He worked for the Prophet through the second war with Voldemort. When Fudge finally, reluctantly, admitted that You-Know-Who had returned, Fletcher said nothing; however, the "This Day in History" feature on the day the interview with Fudge appeared noted that, on that day in 1980, the then-Minister of Magic had issued a statement that, if the wizarding world did not put aside their differences and work together as one, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would never be defeated.

Dumbledore's death a year later rocked Fletcher and Maggie back on their heels. They attended the funeral with their sons and Fletcher's brother and his wife. Fletcher noticed Harry Potter sitting in the congregation, but did not get a chance to speak to the boy. Silently, however, Fletcher tried to send his thoughts to the boy, telling him that his parents would have been proud of him and that, whatever he was doing, it was undoubtedly the right thing. Tessie and her husband, an Auror, sat a little closer to the front, but when Hagrid carried Dumbledore's body past, it was too much for Tessie's four-year-old daughter Bethany, who ran back to sit on her grandfather's lap. Glad for something to do, Fletcher gave himself over to caring for her and so made it through the funeral.

Jack and Wally, as well as Tessie's husband Matthew (who was actually an Auror), fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. Matthew survived unharmed; Jack escaped with nothing more serious than a broken arm. Wally, however, was badly injured. Fletcher was desperate and rushed to his son's side, praying fervently, willing to do anything to avoid losing another child. In the end, Wally survived, although confined to a wheelchair, but as he and his father agreed, it could have been much, much worse. After leaving his son's side, finally, Fletcher got the chance to speak, for the first time, with Harry Potter. Harry, understandably, was a bit leery of talking to a newspaper man, but when Fletcher told the boy that he remembered James and Lily, he loosened up a bit. They exchanged pleasant conversation before Fletcher went home to Maggie.

Fletcher continued to work happily for the Daily Prophet for several more years. When Harry Potter disappeared, however, and the Prophet began to go in a different direction, Fletcher pulled his "This Day in History" column and decided to restrict himself to archiving back issues. He saw what the paper, in opposition to the Magic Mirror, was beginning to do, and he didn't like the direction it was heading. He would continue to store back copies and run the archives, but he would no longer contribute. No longer would he associate his name with the paper.

Personality: Fletcher is respectful of others and insists on getting that same respect back. His voice is well modulated and quiet, rarely rising above what his mother used to call his "library voice"--louder than a whisper, softer than the average speaking voice. He has a surprisingly good sense of humor and never minds a joke on himself, as long as it's funny. When he gets angry, rather than raising his voice, every word becomes crystal clear, as if he wants to make absolutely certain you are aware of just how much you have upset him. It takes a lot to get him to that point, though; he's fairly unflappable. While not antisocial per se, he does tend to keep to himself, and to his family, and to his work. Like most archivists and librarians, he is unobtrusive and ordinary, blending into the background and trying not to draw attention to himself.

History is Fletcher's passion and his life, a love cultivated by his father, but he prefers a more personal history to the dry recitation of facts in the average textbook (which isn't to say that he doesn't read textbooks, too, just that he'd rather read newspaper articles and diaries). For that reason, he enjoys poking around antique stores, and in fact collects antique printing blocks, specializing in type, although he will occasionally pick up animal prints or bookplates if he likes the look of them. A voracious reader--a love he shares with his wife--one room of their home is lined with manuscripts, both wizarding and Muggle, fiction and non-fiction, all well-thumbed and read at least once. He's a dog person and has always had one in his life; he prefers terriers, although he has no real objection to larger dogs. Fletcher likes walking and bicycling--things that get him outside and moving--and he usually has a dog or two with him, either in the basket of his bicycle or running alongside him at the end of a leash. However, he doesn't particularly care for cats--his older brother once dropped a cat on him from a second-story window, and ever since he has avoided them. Because of his father, he feels a kinship for Muggles and thus deplores the Death Eaters and all they stand for; the fact that he lost a son to them makes him hate them all the more. People who constantly tell him that smoking is hazardous to his health annoy him. He knows smoking is hazardous to his health; he does it because it also soothes his nerves. Used to living on a limited budget, Fletcher dislikes having to pay too much for anything, which is why he frequents secondhand clothing stores and used book stores. He claims popular music gives him a headache and as such listens to nothing but classical music. Fletcher cannot stand asparagus, although he will literally eat just about anything else.

A pipe smoker, Fletcher has conditioned himself to the point where he cannot get to sleep at night until he has smoked a pipe while reading in front of the fire. It is not uncommon for him, while walking or bicycling or just sitting on the porch with his wife, to start singing, usually a hymn, as he was a member of a church choir in his youth; he has a mellow baritone, both his singing and speaking voice. When he has an idea, or when he's thinking, Fletcher tends to stroke his moustache or pound it with his knuckles, depending on the intensity of the hunch. While not a blind follower, Fletcher is nonetheless loyal to anyone he cares about--his family, his teachers from Hogwarts, his friends, his boss. Patient, especially with those he considers children--meaning anyone under the age of thirty--he has never yelled at or hit a child in his life. He is good at identifying patterns of behavior, mainly due to having read so many history books he absorbed information about the behavioral patterns of historical figures. Moreover, he has a very organized, nimble mind and is fairly good at riddles and logic puzzles. Fletcher is very touchy about anything relating to the military or the Auror's department, and any slight, explicit or implicit, will result in him losing his temper. Because he gets so wrapped up in the past, it can sometimes be difficult to get him to understand the present without resorting to putting it in a historical context; at eighty-three years of age, he is a little better about this than he used to be, but he still has problems seeing things for what they are now rather than how they resemble what once was. Rather stubborn, once he takes a stand on something he refuses to budge until he witnesses events to prove him differently--and heaven help you if he has research to back his position up. He is also something of a skeptic, partly because of his love for history (he sees patterns before others do) and partly because he works for a newspaper. Fletcher is known to go into what his daughter calls Spontaneous Lecture Mode and give a detailed discourse on a particular topic, especially if history is involved, often without noticing that the people around him are in any way uncomfortable; he can go on for hours if allowed.

Appearance: Fletcher has light blue eyes, a colour his mother always called cornflower blue. They are a touch on the smallish side, centred nicely on his head, a little faded with age, but twinkling and alert. He wears large, round trifocals with silver frames. A network of wrinkles spread from the corners of his eyes. His hair is thick and wavy, medium length and swept back from his temples. Dark brown in his youth, it has been silver since fifty years of age. He does not present an imposing figure. Of average height and average build, he stands out only because of his insistence on wearing out-of-style clothing. His hands are wrinkled, but still strong, although his left hand has a permanent ink stain on the thumb and forefinger. He has a thick, luxuriant moustache, silver like his hair, reminiscent of the one sported by the late Mark Twain. Flat-footed but with fairly good posture, Fletcher doesn't look like a doddering old man, but he does look his age. His face is square, his nose broad, and his smile somewhat crooked. Surprisingly, there is a tattoo on his right shoulder, a rose with a ribbon floating around it with MAGGIE written in it, somewhat faded now and usually covered by his shirtsleeves. It's not the sort of thing one would expect him to have, but a student of his father's whom Fletcher idolized had a similar tattoo with his girlfriend's name in it, and Fletcher chose to get the tattoo for his twentieth birthday, as a tribute to both friend and wife. Fletcher lives somewhat in the past, and thus tends to dress like newsmen did in the late nineteenth century. He wears grey tweed pants with suspenders, white collared shirts with the sleeves rolled up, and a grey houndstooth lad's cap. Outside of work, he wears a tweed jacket to match the pants. On weekends, he wears flannel shirts and stonewashed jeans. With any outfit he wears brown round-toed lace-up shoes. A black three-quarter length trenchcoat, made of thick wool, and a Ravenclaw scarf completes his ensemble in the wintertime. On his left finger is a well-worn wedding band, white-gold mounted with two amethyst baguettes.

OOC Info--
Name & Contact Information: Everybody calls me Bre. You can e-mail me at katya_rutchski@yahoo.com
Previous Roleplay Experience: BWAHAHAHAHAHA...*coughs* Uh, sorry. You probably don't want me to repost the RPG resume I've kept. Suffice to say, I've been involved in forum-based RPGs for just about seven years. (Jesus.)