Listen, It Wasn't His Fault That He Got Adopted By A Crow Who Was A Kleptomaniac. Gamon Didn't Adopt

Gamon looked at the whole exchange with an amused smile in his eyes, as he followed Ted to the exam room.

"I don't know, Healer Ted. Maybe I'm gonna have a sudden case of uncontrollable giggling if you keep being that funny, and that's gonna be your fault." He grinned cheekily, settling comfortably in his usual place.

Most healers in St. Mungus knew his case. The big shot quidditch player who ended his career way too early after he fell from a broom, and it never healed properly. Some medical gibberish about magical injuries, all he knew was that they couldn't heal his broken bones like every other time he fell from a broom. It was the end of the line for him.

It had been a few months since that whole drama happened. He was on the way to recovery, steadily receiving treatments from capable healers, all so that he could dream of getting on a broom again. Not to play, that he knew would never happen again. But he missed having full control of his limbs, thank you very much.

"I'm here for the treatment. I think there was something about checking the progress, if the bones healed in the right places without magic interference." Gamon explained, trying his best to not show how hurt he still was, inside.

setting: st mungo's, third floor: ward for potion and plant poisoning featuring: ted tonks & open !

"You're late.”

That was the monotonous greeting Ted received as he crossed onto the third floor of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies & Injuries, swapping out his signature brown leather jacket for the bright green robes healers wore as their uniform. Pulling out the lollipop he'd had in his mouth, Ted stuck out his tongue, which was tinted an electric blue from the sucker. "C'mon, Healer Boyle — you know, I'm actually fifty minutes early as far as time in Cabo Verde is concerned," he replied cheekily, earning an eye roll as a chart was shoved at his chest.

"Relative to where you are now, Healer Tonks, you're late, and on the day we’re dealing with an overflow of patients from other wards. Room five," the Chief Healer motioned with a flourish of his hand, setting Ted onto his first patient of the day. “And lose the lolli, will you.”

With a sigh, Ted twisted in the direction of the exam room in question, leaving Healer Boyle with a, "Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're no fun, Boyle," in a tone that was as friendly as it was sarcastic. Tapping a jaunty tune with his knuckles against the door before pushing it open, lollipop still in his mouth, Ted Tonks gave his patient a large smile. Plopping down onto a stool beside them, he caught glimpse of the Daily Prophet on the bedside table and had to bite down on the lollipop stick hard to keep from grimacing at the sight. That was hardly appropriate for sick people, or so he thought. Especially given what it was reporting on. "Wotcher!” Came a quirky greeting from the healer. “Someone’s having an eventful morning, hm?” Brows rose, clearly not referencing the newspaper and the distress it was causing everyone but instead the fact they were here, in an exam room in St. Mungo’s. “Now then, how about you tell Healer Ted what's going on and I'll see about getting you right and on your way," he spoke with an even and low voice, warm and open so as to break any tension his patient may feel. “Doesn’t look like a case of uncontrollable giggling, so we have that going for us.”

Morcant about Valerian's first fiancée. @xsecretkeepers

where: ancestor's lanterns release, samhain festival, hogsmeade when: evening with: open

Morcant really hoped the departed people didn't have access to it beyond the veil. If they did, he was fucked. His heartfelt message to his grandfather, Cantakerous Nott, was along the lines of: "Dear grandfather, thank you for being an even worse paternal figure than my father. No wonder he is a raving lunatic, having you as his father. You are the one who sullies the noble and ancient name of the Nott family. I hope you rot in hell for the entire eternity. Fuck you. A big middle finger, your grandson."

He sighed in relief when the lantern was flying too high to be caugh, and hoped no one saw it. He was about to leave, when he stumbled on someone.

"Oh, pardon me. Sorry, are you okay? I hope I didn't damage your lantern." He asked politely, knowing the ceremony could be a hard time for some people.

Jonah Hauer-King as Eric THE LITTLE MERMAID (2023) dir. Rob Marshall

GAMON ARTHIT OLLIVANDER ・ 24 ・ HE & HIM ・ FC PAVEL PHOOM  ・ HALFBLOOD ・ ORDER OF THE PHOENIX ・ GRYFFINDOR ALUMNI  ・  RETIRED CHASER FOR FALLMOUTH FALCONS ・ WAND SPECIALIST AT OLLIVANDERS (NIGHT SHIFT) ・ MENACE TO SOCIETY

the warmth of a found family, taking the night shift because you can't sleep anyway, sharing secrets and a bottle of firewhiskey with a friend after a rough night, the red hot feeling of adrenaline when you make the winning goal on a quidditch match, sharing compliments to random people in the streets, a worn out leather jacket with bottoms of muggle bands.

✧ WAND: Aspen, Unicorn tail hair, 10 inches, and rather bendy. ✧ PATRONUS: The seal. The seal patronus is one that shows a playful soul, that seeks excitement in all of it’s ventures. These are not studious individuals, as they are too busy trying to feel as free as they can. They have the ability to light up a room, and they know it, and like to use it to the best of their ability. They are never ones to let their feelings get the best of them, because they are too wrapped up in everything else to care very much about what other people think of them. They would much rather be busy exploring life. ✧ MIRROR OF ERISED: He sees himself backpacking through Asia with someone by his side, he can't see the face, but he knows it's his husband. ✧ BOGGART: His whole family getting captured and tortured by Death Eaters. ✧ FAMILIAR AND OTHER PETS: His familiar is a crow named Bruce Wayne, which also acts in the place of an owl.

BACKGROUND

Gamon Arthit Ollivander was born in Thailand but raised in England almost before he could remember. His parents were a half-blood witch and a squib, and while they didn’t exactly fit into the magical world’s traditional expectations, they made it work. His mother, a fierce duellist, and his father, a professor for a muggle university, were always up for adventure. When Gamon was just four years old, tragedy struck. His parents were killed in an attack by Grindelwald’s followers, but by some twist of fate, he’d been visiting the Ollivanders that day and was spared. His godparents, Garrick and Mathieu, immediately took him in, and that’s when his real family story began.

Growing up in the Ollivander house, chaos was the norm. Garrick and Mathieu, along with their three other adopted kids, welcomed Gamon into the fold like he’d always been there. The whole house was a bit of a mad circus, with everyone bickering, laughing, and getting into trouble together. But through it all, Gamon learned that family wasn’t about blood—it was about loyalty, love, and sticking together no matter how much of a mess you made of things.

At Hogwarts, Gamon’s Gryffindor spirit was obvious from the start. He didn’t care much for schoolwork—he was more of an action guy. Quidditch was his thing. By the time he was 16, he was already getting noticed for his skills on the pitch. He joined the Gryffindor team as a chaser in his second year and, while he had zero interest in becoming team captain, the game was everything to him. The rush of adrenaline when he scored a goal, the thrill of the crowd—it was addicting.

But it wasn’t just the game that caught his attention. Puberty hit, and Gamon found himself feeling a little… distracted. He couldn’t stop looking at the hot, sweaty chasers and beaters on the other teams. It started out as just a pure appreciation for the sport, but soon enough, it dawned on him: he liked the game, but he really liked the sweaty dudes who played it. The realization hit him one evening after a particularly brutal match, when he caught himself staring a little too long at one of the other team’s chasers, his muscles gleaming with sweat as he caught the Quaffle. That was when Gamon realized he was gay. At first, he wasn’t sure what to do with that knowledge, but as he navigated the more chaotic parts of his teenage years—mostly spent sneaking into parties, testing the boundaries of what was acceptable, and partying with his friends—he grew more comfortable with who he was.

The parties were a whole other world. Gamon thrived in the high-energy chaos of the Hogwarts social scene. He had no problem sneaking away to whatever hidden corner of the castle or nearby pub the older students were frequenting, always looking for the next high. Whether it was a good laugh or a new romantic interest, it didn’t matter to him. As he got older, he learned to live for those moments of unbridled fun—fueled by adrenaline, firewhiskey, and the thrill of being surrounded by friends who shared the same chaos.

After graduating at 22, Gamon wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with his life. He’d never been big on plans. He had a minor-league Quidditch career first, and after that, the Falmouth Falcons offered him a spot as a starting chaser. He played for a few years, loved every minute of it—the thrill of the game, the roar of the crowd, the camaraderie.

A few months ago, a bad fall during a match ended his career before it had really reached its peak. Gamon collided mid-air with a Holyhead Harpies player, shattering his leg and causing a severe magical concussion. St. Mungo’s worked on him for weeks, using potions and charms to heal the damage, but a lingering magical imbalance in his system left him with poor coordination and off-balance reflexes. No matter how much he healed physically, he couldn’t get back to full strength, and his Quidditch career was over. It was a hard pill to swallow, but the injury forced him to accept that his body had limits he couldn’t ignore.

The accident didn’t slow him down for long, though. He lived for that next adrenaline rush, and once he was sidelined from Quidditch, he found a new thrill: working the night shift at Ollivanders. The late-night wand repairs became a kind of peaceful rhythm, something he could do while the world was asleep, and it gave him time to figure out what he wanted next.

At some point during those late nights, Gamon started getting involved with the Order of the Phoenix. It wasn’t exactly a surprise. He’d always been a bit of an anarchist at heart—questioning authority, fighting against anyone who tried to impose rules on him or others. As the war escalated, he couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. He wanted to fight back. He was a Gryffindor through and through—loyal, brave, and maybe a little reckless. But above all, he knew this was his fight to take on.

Then there was Bruce. Bruce Wayne, Gamon’s crow. He’d found the little bird abandoned and half-starved one winter night. The name came easily. Gamon had always been into muggle comics, and the idea of a vigilante bird, a sidekick to his own chaotic life, just fit. Bruce was a bit of a troublemaker, always flying off with shiny things during his deliveries and adding them to his nest. Gamon didn’t mind; in fact, he thought it was funny. Bruce was, in his own way, a perfect fit for his life: unpredictable, cheeky, and always keeping things interesting.

PERSONALITY

✅ HONEST ・ BRAVE ・ STREET SMART ・ INTUITIVE ・ ATHLETIC ・ INDEPENDENT ・ CONFIDENT ・ LOYAL ・ CARING ・ PLAYFUL

❌ RECKLESS ・ REBELLIOUS ・ IMPATIENT ・ HOT-TEMPERED ・ POSESSIVE ・ CHAOTIC ・ IRREVERENT ・ HAS NO SELF-PRESERVATION

SKILLS & TALENTS

Adventuring: Gamon is always up for a spontaneous journey, whether it’s exploring unknown parts of the wizarding world or taking a risk on something new. His curiosity and desire for the next thrill often lead him into uncharted territory.

Quidditch Expertise: Having been a reliable chaser on the Gryffindor team and in professional Quidditch, Gamon once had top-tier agility, reflexes, and an uncanny ability to predict plays mid-air. Though he’s retired, the injury has left him with lingering issues that affect his balance and coordination. His broom no longer feels like an extension of himself, and his once-sharp instincts on the pitch have been dulled. While he can still hold his own in a casual match, he knows his prime is behind him.

Martial Magic (Dueling): Thanks to his wand's affinity for martial magic and his natural instinct for defense, Gamon excels in duels. His fighting style is reactive—quick to counter any attack with a move that's as unpredictable as his personality.

Wandlore & Crafting: Growing up in the Ollivander family, Gamon learned the art of wandmaking early on. He has a deep understanding of wand woods, cores, and the unique bond each wand shares with its owner. He's also excellent at repairs and maintenance.

Street Smarts: Gamon is quick on his feet, both physically and mentally. He’s great at reading people and situations, making him adept at getting himself out of sticky social or physical situations. He knows how to navigate tricky streets, whether it's in the wizarding world or the muggle one.

Befriending Strangers: Gamon has an easy time making friends because he genuinely cares about people. He wants to connect with others on a real level, whether it’s sharing a laugh, offering a comforting word, or just being there for someone in a moment of need. Gamon is the type who’ll strike up conversations with anyone, whether it’s in Diagon Alley or a seedy pub.

Risk Management (Sort of): Despite his reckless tendencies, Gamon has a surprising ability to assess risk in high-pressure situations. He might not always make the best decision, but he has a unique instinct for recognizing when things are about to go south—usually right before it happens.

Muggle Interests: Growing up with a muggle historian father, Gamon developed an appreciation for muggle history and culture. From comic books to rock ‘n’ roll, he’s got a broad knowledge of muggle life, which helps him relate to muggle-borns and understand the broader world.

Creature of the Night: Gamon has adapted to the nighttime shifts at Ollivanders, becoming incredibly efficient in dim light. His ability to work in the dead of night, without needing much rest, gives him an edge when handling the unpredictable nature of the late-night crowd.

Pranking & Mischief: Gamon’s quick thinking and mischievous sense of humor make him the go-to guy for pulling off elaborate pranks, whether it’s in Hogwarts' halls or a pub after hours. He knows exactly how to make someone laugh or get back at an enemy with a clever trick.

HE SUCKS AT THIS...

Patience for Theoretical Studies: While Gamon excels in practical magic, he struggles with the theoretical side of things. Complex charms, potions, or ancient spells are lost on him if he has to read about them for too long. He prefers hands-on learning and tends to gloss over anything too academic.

Attention to Detail: Gamon’s impulsive nature often causes him to miss the finer details in a plan. Whether it’s rushing through a wand repair or jumping into an Order mission without fully thinking things through, he tends to overlook the small stuff, which can backfire.

Following Orders: He has an independent streak that doesn’t mesh well with authority figures or following strict orders. It's not on purpose, he's just allergic.

Long-Term Planning: Gamon’s more about living in the moment, and he’s not great at thinking ahead or planning for the future. This shows in everything from his personal relationships to his career choices.

Impulsiveness: A classic trait of his, Gamon is often impulsive and makes decisions based on gut feelings rather than logic. Whether it’s diving headfirst into a fight or making a snap judgment about a person or situation, he tends to act before thinking, which leads to mistakes.

Self-Care & Organization: Gamon has a tendency to forget about his own needs in the chaos of his life. He’s not great at keeping things organized—his personal space can be messy, and he tends to push his health or mental well-being to the back burner in favor of the next adventure or fight.

Subtlety: When it comes to keeping secrets or being discreet, Gamon’s not exactly the most subtle person. He’s prone to making a scene, speaking his mind bluntly, or letting important information slip when it’s least expected.

who: morcant and regulus @impcrios where: room of prophecies, department of mysteries, ministry of magic

Neither of them knew, but both Morcant Nott and Regulus Black had already been fucked over by narrative before they were even born. Perhaps they knew, in the same self-aware arrogance where they fished they self-loathing, bit by bit. They didn't know what the Moirai would spun for them in the fabric of fate. Since they worked for the Room of Prophecies in the Department of Mysteries, some would call that poetic justice. The Nott heir stood by one of the shelves, watching the long line of prophecies with the intent of someone listening to music. Crystal balls that looked inofensive enough, but he knew people that had gone crazy while working there. Lucky him, he was halfway there, maybe that's why he almost didn't feel the pull. Working there during midnight was peaceful and eerie, which was his mood of preference when studying their cases. You couldn't be too comfortable over there. — Black. — He nodded to Regulus as he saw him. For someone with the social skills Morcant had —you get more flies with honey—, not knowing how to approach the topic was disquieting. He couldn't exactly be blatant and outright ask him what he wanted to know. — Did you see anything missing or out of place in your hand? He asked, looking closely to the other's face with a somber sort of respect. It was the best resemblance of friendliness he could emulate in the present circunstances.

PINNED POST !

this is a private roleplay account written by silver (they/she), for morcant nott, in the universe of @wingardiumfm.

i do not support or agree with jk rowling in any way, shape or form. none of her views reflect my personal views. in addition, the characters views on certain subjects might not reflect my views, as they're fictional characters inserted in an ongoing plotline.

THREADS [ 021 ]

drafting reply [ felicity, barty, severus, melis, alecto, valerian, bryony, amycus, cassian, arden, sirius, andromeda, dolores, regulus, elowen ]

waiting for my turn [ winnie, arden, bryony & valerian, alecto, narcissa ]

morcant's links

character intro / aesthetic tag / musing tag / wanted plots

pinterest board / spotify mixtape / nott family lore

Morcant was, after all, a Nott. A snobby, arrogant, stuck-up nose pureblood. He was self-aware of that, and he wasn't about to lie to himself and say he didn't have a reason to be. He was all of that, simply because it was owed to him and his legacy.

That said, all he felt was contempt and disgust. It took all of him to act like a gentleman, supress what he really felt and try to have fun. His entire life, Morcant always believed that you get more flies with honey, than vinegar. It wasn't like him to express what he truly felt, even if all he wanted to do now was bitch about it.

"Well, a single corridor in the Nott Manor has more cursed artifacts than this. Come on, Lucius. We both know that we came here for a comedy exhibit, especially if some stupid kid tries to rob it." He sighed, imagining the scene. "That would be a good laugh, wouldn't it?"

𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚂: open | 𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽: zonko's, cursed artifact exhibition

a  slender  finger  slides  along  the  sleek  marble  of  the  countertops  before  him,  already  coated  with  a  thin  layer  of  dust  for  special  affects.  lucius  could  tell,  even  to  the  naked  eye,  that  the  so  called  cursed  artifacts  scattered  around  the  joke  shop  were  also  jokes.  pieces  of  plastic  disguised  as  actual  artifacts  hidden  around  the  wizarding  world.  ❝  they  have  to  know  they  aren't  fooling  anyone,  ❞  lucius  says  aloud  to  no  one  in  particular.  ❝  although  it  would  be  quite  the  event  if  someone  were  to  try  robbing  this  place  for  a  piece  of  junk.  ❞

“Golden child, Lion boy; Tell me what it’s like to conquer. Fearless child, Broken boy; Tell me what it’s like to burn.”

— oh darling, even rome fell // p.s.

WHO: morcant nott & winnie yaxley @anapnco WHERE: st. mungo's hospital, blishwick wing WHEN: new wing at st. mungo's

Winnifred Yaxley was intelligent, funny, gentle, beautiful and came from a good family. She was prime pureblood wife material, and although her blonde hair fell nicely over her face, she wasn't the blonde he'd like to marry. Unfortunately, fate had other plans, and Morcant knew Winnie was as into marrying him as he was (which was, not at all). ━ You know, I'm really grateful you're the one doing this with me. At least you don't spare any punches on your opinions, and I gave you a nice protective jewelry. That's gotta be worth some points, right? ━ Morcant whispered, so only Winnie could hear him, looking at the oppulent necklace around her neck, to her bright eyes.