• Favourite colour is green
• Is a dog person, but has a soft spot for cats
• Walks on the edges of hallways, doesnt like to be in the center of a room
• Main theme is 'Pleaser' by Wallows
• Blood type is B-
• D&D alignment would be Chaotic Neutral or Chaotic Evil
• Has a hobby in cooking, even though he's not the best
• Wants to run away and live in the wild

CW: Abuse, physical and mental

Life starts in the public eye, Archambault Primrose Baudelaire-- or Archie, by family friends is born to two people who have a decent view in the public eye. Both of them being semi-successful business people; his father, Marcel Baudelaire, in law. And his mother, Primrose Baudelaire, In accounting. He has two older siblings, eight years his elder and five years his elder-- which he would never grow to know that well, their futures already planned out and set in stone for them. It left him alone, to look after and entertain himself in a lot of his early memories; his verbalisation almost stunted early on, as his vocabulary didn’t develop as fast as his siblings.

But somehow, even that distanced and isolated from parents who simply didn’t have the time to look after children themselves-- to not being able to interact or distract his older siblings from their studies; his life still was managed to be filled with quips and comments about how the public saw him. From how he acted. to how he looked, to how well he was doing academically was all the media’s business, apparently, and that his parents were already planning on what they wanted him to do when he was older.

It was too much for someone that young to live up to. Every aspect of himself was criticized and needed to be improved-- he always needed to look his best, not too drab though; he had to remain prim and proper. He needed to score the highest all his work, and needed to act more mature for his age. Seemingly like with every expectation he met, he would be greeted with more.

On top of it all, his loneliness only grew with age. He was home-schooled, and the only friends he seemed to have was a sweet housemaid, the family dog, and his younger sister. Even then, he didn’t have much time to hang out with them. Because it seemed that the harder he tried to meet his goals and impress his parents they only pointed out and criticized more and more of his faults. In which he would have to improve and correct them, over and over, until they were gone.

Though, it seemed that was now not the worst of his problems. His mother’s business failed, and money became tighter than usual. Tension rose between family members, as they tried to figure out how to move forth and live their luxurious lifestyles with this hindrance. With the increased tension, though, fights broke out between his parents. They were small disagreements at first, little spats between the couple over little things. However, over time they became bigger, more explosive, as the fights lasted longer and were much louder. Eventually, though, came the first part of the storm. During a particularly bad argument over the dinner table his father struck his mother across her face after she made a mean-spirited comment doubting the success of his career. It shocked everyone at the table, although, at the time Archie didn’t understand what happened. Still so young, with that memory ingrained in the back of his mind.

From there things only seemed to get worse, his mother would hit and scratch back-- sometimes throw and smash things in her frustration as his father did the same. The fights were explosive, violent, and caused the young man to become scared to even walk the halls while his parents were both in the house. Afraid of witnessing it again, not understanding the strain between the once-lovebirds.

He thought it was the worst to come, the anger and resentment which lingered the halls of the multi-million home-- but he was wrong, it wasn’t even close.

It shattered his world, hearing his mother scream on the top of her lungs about the fact that neither Archie nor his younger sister were their father’s children. Instead fessing that she had slept with another man to attempt to save her business all those years ago. That she wasn’t sorry for it now, even though she was at the time. Archie barely understood it, it was hard to wrap his head around-- that the father he knew all his life wasn’t his actual one, and that his mother’s valiant efforts to pull it together had failed.

And it seemed to shatter his father’s world too.

Turning to alcohol to quell the betrayal he felt, a lot of his anger turned to the two kids he’d been tricked into believing were his. He grew violent with them, but he seemed to always return to them crying about how he was sorry; but he could never bring himself to love them again. It made him feel small, made him want to hide away from it all. To disappear into himself and never be seen again. It made him doubt every little thing his mother and father told him-- scratch that, doubt everything he’s ever been told.

When it came time that his father had had enough of seeing him and his sister, they were sent to a maternal aunty to take care of-- Archie was already so receded into his own shell. He struggled to sleep, he wouldn’t. He had to be vigilant at all moments, he had to know what was going on, what people were thinking; every small compliment was met with him being suspicious of their motives.

And during all this, the media still wanted to know what was going on. But, at the hard and diligent work of his aunt she was able to keep as much as she could private. Knowing how much it was stressing the kids out. She loved them, she really did, but Archie grew a little much for her. With his constant hypervigilance and suspicion, she grew weary of caring for him fast. Especially when it came to the magical behaviours he was beginning to display.

Favouritism was obvious, and he was painfully aware of it. But for once, he found himself not caring about it. Maybe it was the years of trying to be liked, trying to be the favourite coming down and crashing on him. Or maybe it's the emotional disconnect he was starting to feel to his situation. Either way, surprisingly, he felt nothing about it.

Though, upon receiving a letter from Hogwarts inviting him to be a first year student-- he was more than enthusiastic to go. To get away from his family for any period of time. He jumped at the opportunity, finding himself almost begging his now estranged father to let him go. He was hesitant, almost angry at the idea. But already was beginning to resign himself to the fact that he no longer had the money to send his son to a prestigious law school like he’d hoped. So, with the persuasion from his aunt also pointing out the fact that she could no longer stand caring for him, he was begrudgingly allowed to attend the school of wizardry. Being the first person in his close circle who would attend.

And for a while, not a day would pass without him expressing his excitement to go off and addend, that when the day finally came it felt like a fever dream.

He felt at home, for once, and welcomed among the people of the slytherin house, the first year breezing by no issue as he returned to his aunt’s at the end of the year. And studies found him naturally, although it was very weird at first learning beside other people in a classroom setting. But he found himself able to adapt after the first few months, picking up a heavy interest in transfiguration magics and the uses the wizarding world found with them. But when it came time to go home once more, after his second year, he found himself unable to stop thinking about it, especially as an escape to the worsening conditions at home.

Paranoia of the worst only rose every night he had to spend back with his father, now that his aunt was rendered unsuitable to raise children. The media took his return badly, skewing that he was defying his parents wishes and choosing a different educational course for himself within the walls of his home. Although it was partially true, he found himself pressured, feeling like he was letting his family down once more.

And in a way, he was, his father making prodding comments about how well he was doing, even though he was pretty well off in most of his classes. Discouraging him from his work and trying to push him back into the non-magical direction.

But every year he still returned to Hogwarts, his obsession with transfiguration only increasing when he was introduced to the concept of Animagi, the ability to transform almost seamlessly into an animal at will. For as long as you wanted, wandless or with a wand. He obsessed over the idea, in which, if he could complete the ritual he could disappear completely from the public eye whenever he wished, and travel around mostly undetected.

Having a permanent out to it all, the constant media presence within the walls of his home; the pressure to drop out and do exactly what his father wishes for his future. The fear of the stirring trouble within the wizarding world, it all pushed him to secure a way to get through the transformation as quickly as possible.

Especially with the threat of his own safety.