Character Applied for: Adrian Pucey

Description of Character's Personality: Adrian is, in a few words, a nasty 
little bitch. 
 
He was put in Slytherin because he's cunning, two-faced, self-serving, and has 
no qualms whatsoever about doing whatever it takes to achieve his ends. He is 
rather intelligent, though he wasn't ever a prefect - his behaviour made that 
option rather null and void. 
 
He cares, almost exclusively - the exception being Marcus Flint - about himself. 
To everyone else in the world - and, actually, Marcus, though it's definitely 
less serious - he's heavily sarcastic and downright nasty. 
 
He's a rather typical eighteen year old boy with the rather typical nasty jokes 
- genitalia, jokes about mothers, etcetera  - anything insulting and possibly 
offensive, and he'll enjoy bringing it out.

Important Backstory, if any: He played Quidditch for the Slytherin team from his 
second year to his seventh - with the exception of the end of his fifth year 
when Marcus dropped him for Warrington, and the entirety of his sixth year, when 
Quidditch was cancelled in favour of the Triwizard tournament. He was 
disappointed not to be made captain in his seventh year, but put it down to not 
having played at the end of the previous season.
 
When he left school, he also left home - his father died when he was young 
enough not to remember, though it doesn't bother him at *all*, as he regularly 
makes jokes about his unknown parentage. He didn't particularly want to stay 
with his mother; she is a bit of a source of shame for Adrian. She was a 
Slytherin pureblood, but her ambition seemed to apply only to getting to the 
top level of administration for the England Quidditch Association - which, while 
that is rather impressive in Adrian's view, isn't quite the dedication to 
elimination of non-pureblood wizardry that he wants from his family. He does, 
however, still keep in touch.
 
After he left school, Adrian trialled for the Falmouth Quidditch Association, 
and made their reserve side. He plans to play Quidditch for as long as he can; 
though he's certainly dabbled with the idea of taking the Mark. 

Sample Journal Entry: Of all people to owl me out of nowhere, I heard from Bole 
yesterday. Of course, the return address was 'My mother's gnome garden, Surrey', 
which would be rather worrying if it were anyone but Bole - being, however, as 
it is him, it's rather distressingly normal.
 
He says he saw Higgs the other day - why on earth he feels like telling me all 
his sordid gossip, I don't know - and then there's an illegitimate scrawl that 
could be 'oh Merlin help me he's trying to kill me' or just 'if you stick the 
gnome hands inside you, they tickle'. I'm not entirely sure which, and I'm even 
less sure that I want to know.
 
P.S. Mrs Flint, I'd like to thank you for the flowers, but really, stop owling. 
I know I'm irresistable, but desperation is such a bad look for a woman. Then 
again, so is your face, so I'm not sure what you really plan to do about that.