Ruckus Weems | Hogwarts Flying Professor

OOC Note: My student character is Della Barfield. If you need anything, feel free to owl or send a discord dm. Ruckus will probably always be up for an RP, though putting students in detention may sadden him—me, the writer, though, would relish in giving you all detention ;}

If you have any trash you think should actually be treasured, Ruckus would love to talk to you about it!

Name: Ruckus Weems
Birthday: December 7, 1970
Species: Human
Status: Wizardborn
Wand: 30,1 cm cedar wood with horned serpent core
"Brittle, enjoys novelty and inventiveness, it will choose a curious-minded, independent wizard."

Physical Description: Ruckus has a medium height and a medium build—in general, he's not a stand-out guy and blends into the shadows and corners of rooms. He has scruffy brown hair and a salt-and-pepper beard. Time has not been kind to his face. He's usually dressed disheveled in large coats and ill-fitting clothes. He only wears boots.

Mental Description: Ruckus, unlike his name, prefers quiet and solitude. He hasn't quite figured out all the social graces, and he comes off strange. However, at his core, he is very kind, and those that take the time to know him will easily see this. One of the reasons he took the original caretaker position at Hogwarts was fostering and aiding the next generation of wizards. Kids often don't find him as weird and more easily dismiss his awkwardness. Plus he loves collecting bits and bobbles and trinkets—children drop them everywhere—because he has a fascination with things that have been abandoned.

Biography: Ruckus was born in Fife, Scotland, in the 70s to a poor wizarding family. His mother and father took many jobs, some in the magical world and even some in the muggle world, to make ends meet. He is the third child of eight. To escape the chaos of his home, he would go to the woods behind the house and collect the trash that had migrated there. Growing up with some many siblings, he learned to observe and reflect before acting—giving him a keen perception of people's motives. He wanted to not be as brash and angry as his brothers when it came to conflict. But because he spent so much time watching, his family easily forgot about him in the disarray.

This was especially evident in his education. His parents believed in home schooling, haphazardly between the hours they were working. It was easy to neglect Ruckus because he hardly ever spoke. He had to teach himself many topics, causing large gaps in his education. However, he found he had the greatest aptitude for history and devoured both magical and muggle history.

Once Ruckus turned 17, he moved out and traveled around the United Kingdom, moving from one odd job to the next. From there he steadily filled the gaps in his education through practical application or trial and error. He exchanges letters to his favorite sister, Gertrude, but he otherwise doesn't stay in contact with his family.

He primarily travelled by broomstick—and during the long hours in the sky, he discovered he had a knack for brooms. He had never participated heavily in any athletic endeavors with his siblings, and so he never knew the mental clarity that came with exercising. (He would later take up jogging as well in Dublin.) Anywhere he landed, he would join the nearest Quidditch, Broom Racing, or Quodpot club. The last was his favorite, and that was too bad given how terribly unpopular the sport is in the UK. The unpredictability of the sport forced him to live in the moment; he became somewhat well-known for his skill and sporting attitude in the amateur Quodpot circles. He probably could have gone pro if such a thing existed. One of Ruckus's greatest achievements was single-handedly winning all the points for the Celtic Quods against their bitter rivals, the Glasgow Pots.

The next two decades of his life, unfold like chapters in two different books.

At 30, he met the love of his life, Niamh—an Irish woman with fiery red hair and an even more fiery determination to get to the bottom of who Ruckus Weems was. He was hesitant at first to let her, but he eventually relented and allowed himself to be loved and to love. They opened a bar together in Dublin: Niamh the public-facing host, and Ruckus the quiet and observant bartender. The bar entertained muggles, but it had a secret back section for wizards. And ten years passed wonderfully. On his fortieth birthday, December 7, 2010, Niamh was killed in a hit-and-run accident outside the bar. No magic, no reason, just a drunk driver.

Ruckus sold the bar and joined a sailing crew. He left behind all his belongings, even all the trash he had treasured over the last four decades—even the Quodpot medals. He worked with muggles and did back-breaking labor for rich sailing ship owners. He tried to forget all that he had known, even the magical world itself. But over the course of the decade and some change, while seeing the fullness of the world, he became to come to terms with his life and all its hardships. And he started a new collection of trash (the sea is full of it!).

When he finally landed back in the UK, he heard about an opening for a caretaker at a magical school. Having never gone to one himself, he figured it would be his next great adventure.

And it was! Ruckus discovered that he favored caring for the students more than the castle. When Felix Lin hung up his broomstick for the final time as flying professor, Headmaster Solomon Lear recognized that Ruckus's disposition, combined knowledge of brooms and history, and talent for flying might be better suited for a professor position. Ruckus gladly accepted in May 2025 and went to work preparing a curriculum that focused on broom history, flying for exercise, and logical sport strategy. And now with more regular interactions with students, his treasured trash collection is beginning to return to its former glory.

First Instance of Magic: When Ruckus was eight, he took his first solo trip to the woods near his home. His siblings were playing an elaborate game of hide-and-seek, and they had left him out of it. He decided to explore and make his own game. There was bits of paper and old shoes and even a discarded mattress. One paper crunched loudly beneath his foot, and he picked it up. It was an old handwritten receipt for A History of Magic. Suddenly, the receipt began to grow and change in his fingers. It had weight. The crumpled piece of paper had transformed into a copy of the book. He sat down and read, filling his afternoon with different perspectives.