Physical Description: Jon Rebus Cantu is a sturdy man, with decently broad shoulders and a modest 5 feet 11 inches to match. His hair is rigid, not due to gel but the copious amounts of attention he puts into it to keep it upright and sharp-looking. His beard is full, yet trimmed so he doesn't look a mess and he prides himself on it, as you will find him stroking it in thought often. His eyes are a deep brown and his skin is lightly tanned, enough to show he goes outside but no more or no less than the average individual.

Mental Description: Jon Rebus Cantu would describe himself to have a "good head on my shoulders", believing firmly in his opinions, but being open to hearing other thoughts. Afterall, the best way to learn and grow is to challenge yourself by approaching situations a different way than you normally would. He appreciates a clever mind, but is also empathetic towards stubbornness and frustration. It happens to the best witches and wizards, and he too has experienced failure or success in various life tasks.

Biography: Jon Rebus Cantu was born to wizard-born parents Emalie Cantu and Mark Cantu in Rye, England. He has an older brother Anton Cantu who attended Hogwarts 4 years prior than him. His relationship with his parents was a tricky one as academics and responsibility was shoved down his throat more than love and family. So, he remained heads down through his schooling and when his parents up and passed only a few years later after his graduation, an invisible string that had been weighing down on him snapped. His health, motivation, and even his relationship with his brother improved. Now, they look out for each other and live together in their childhood home that got passed down to them while spending most of their days immersed in their jobs.

First Instance of Magic: Jon's first instance of magic occurred when he was 8. Some say 8 is early, some say it is late, but whenever it is, it is usually caused due to a surge of emotion, which is exactly what happened. His parent's had a hand in his influx of emotion, startling him around corners, purposefully bothering him when he was playing, but this time he had been pushed too far. Jon was well aware that his parents were up to something and for that reason alone, he repressed whatever they were trying to make him do. The 8-year-old's normally wide eyes narrowed in confusion as they handed him a gift. His senses were on high alert as he unwrapped the box containing a shimmering blue ink. All suspicion was lost as his gaze was entranced on the swirling bottle. Picking up the bottle, he marched over to the kitchen table and sat down. The supplies lay out before him, scratch parchment paper and his favorite quill. As he dipped it in, a smile spread on his cheeks. Clink! A single hip-bump from his mom into the table sent the glass phial tumbling, the glittery-blue ink splashing onto the parchment haphazardly before soaking in moments later. Jon's quill sat hovering above the now ruined paper, tears welling in his gaze. Taking a deep breath to gulp back the tears and anger bubbling he couldn't help but blame his mom. She probably wanted this to happen. He stood up from his spot, knuckles clenched and the chair that was beneath him moments ago went skidding across the tile until it too had the same fate as the phial, now laying on its side. Jon glanced at the chair, then at his parent's elated faces and dodged their outstretched arms. His footsteps rang heavy on the wooden stairs as he stomped his way up to the room and slammed the door.