As a wee lad in Glasgow, Brodie didn't have the easiest time growing up, with a dead ma and a pa that was too negligent to be a good father and whom was unable to fully support a young boy. It was some small boy, whose name Brodie had long since forgotten, that brought the kid onto the streets to make a living for himself.

Brodie never got much formal learnings, having taken to a life on his own save for the occasional visit back home to check on his parent. While he managed to scrounge by, Brodie was never living well by any means before his invitation to Hogwarts, and never managed to put on too much weight as the lanky boy grew. With auburn hair, and a penchant for playing the old pipes for a coin or two, Brodie maintains a healthy suspicion and paranoia for everyone and everything that he knows - magic included.

His magic first made an appearance at the same time as a few of his old rivals. As dusk fell that fateful night while Brodie was working the pipes on a street corner, a few hooligans bearing grudges tried to hustle a few pound off the lad. With nowhere to go, the wee child put his lungs into his trusty old pipes and with a mighty huff and a magical puff, Brodie blew all those nasty rascals down the street.

Too confused to make a fuss, Brodie decided to run first and ask questions later. The next day when the boy was out poking pigeons to settle his rumbling tummy, he realized that one of the birds was distinctly different from the rest, a hulking avian with more importantly, a note tied to its foot. With a shrug, Brodie decided that anywhere was better than here and with some luck, might even be able to turn a healthy profit from this academy. Packing little but his trusty bagpipes, thickest kilts, best knock-off shades and these shoddy robes that he was forced to buy, Brodie set off on his newest adventure.