Nicandro Henderson | Second year Slytherin

toujours pur - always pure
Nicandro H. is a pureblood and more than proud of it. It makes up a huge part of his personality, or rather pride since it makes him feel superior to muggles and half-bloods. Fueling his arrogance, he looks down on others and has difficulty stepping down from that throne he thinks he’s sitting on. Of course it doesn’t apologise his behavior, but his entire family supports this vision.

"you look mean” I am, move.
More often than rarely, the boy is impolite to people. Prejudices and disrespect for his peers drips from his expression. Nicandro is a very difficult person to be around for a long time and he’s painfully aware of it: easily pissed, bad at hiding what he thinks, sarcastic and way too direct. With the expectation that people don’t bother to talk to him longer than necessary, he hardly ever initiates contact and doesn’t try to appear approachable but ends conversations quickly with unnecessary rudeness and short answers. It’s not like he doesn’t want contact, though. He’s fairly lonely.

yes, my dear, i lied
Until he knows someone well and is close to them, his motives are purely egoistic and he wouldn’t risk his peace over them. He’s very attentive and notices a lot about people and their habits. If he wanted to, he could be a great manipulator— but he’s mostly too lazy and asocial for it. When it promises him profit, he can be a manipulative snake, charm his way out of trouble with well-placed compliments and other things. He believes that rules only apply to those who don’t know how to break and bend them without getting caught.

win because you don’t know how to lose
A sore loser, ambition runs in his veins. Work smarter, not harder. Nicandro appears sleepy and bored, which most of the time he is. But then again, he studies with an obsessive vigour and works on himself to become better. Either he goes all in or not at all. His ego is massive yet vulnerable to failure and he craves to be the best in everything he does.

control is an illusion and i live in a fake reality
Every one of his actions show that he’s a control freak. He wants to pull the strings on people and situations and despises the loss of planned control and environments. Deep discomfort and anxiety root their way through his mind once the cards are no longer his to play and he tries everything in his power to regain them. He doesn’t believe in luck nor odds, but that each person actively crafts their own success and chances.

you, picking fights with the devil
Sometimes, he seems almost stupid because he provokes and pokes like he has nothing to lose. He doesn‘t aim to have people feel inferior, it just happens before he thinks about it. The worst part about it is that his arrogance and superiority complex mask a fragile ego. Since he doesn’t want to confront himself with his own character, he gets irritated easily and attacks others. Who is he if not the elite, not the best, not above you?

you idiot, this could’ve killed you!
Once he’s attached to a person, he’s surprisingly thoughtful and immensely loyal. Philosophical conversations at night, taking the blame for their mistakes in front of teachers, giving a clumsy hug, comforting words between sarcasm and cynical remarks. He’s not good at calming people, but he’ll do anything to make sure they feel his support and presence.

Nicandro is a twelve year old boy who stands at a height of 5.0 ft (152cm). He has a normal build and puts a lot of attention on his appearance in every way: immaculate clothing, clean nails, no dirt on his skin. His face has sharp features with dark brown eyes protected by long black lashes. They give off a certain intelligence and intensity, judgement, boredom and frustration, maybe hatred— but what kind, self-hatred or misanthropy? During the week, dark circles claim the space beneath them as a home, hinting at a lack of sufficient sleep. Indoors, his hair appears almost black, but in sunshine it is visible that it’s actually a very dark shade of brown. A bunch of dark silver rings adorn the skin of his slim, long fingers. Technically, Nicandro needs glasses to see properly. He’s near-sighted but feels uncomfortable wearing them and claims they’re 'not necessary'. They most definitely are needed, as he can hardly make out faces from afar. His eyesight is just good enough to allow him to get away with the excuse, but he has to wear them to class.

┏━━━BACKSTORY━━━┓
Nicandro grew up in northern Wales, St Asaph. There, he lived in a, from the outside, inconspicuous house in a magical neighbourhood. He stems from an entirely pure-blood family line. Expectations were always high regarding Henderson offspring, since a certain reputation comes along with the name. Famous wizards evolved from the blood running through the descendant’s veins. Nicandro’s parents educated with a strictness, wishing both their children to study hard and learn discipline and etiquette early in life. They dressed them in expensive clothes, spent money on the best private teachers they could find and reduced distraction to a minimum. Fun was a luxury kept from Nicandro for ‘the sake of focusing on the crucial things in life’. He had hardly any friends because he didn’t fit in with the other children
and didn’t share their hobbies. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to have friends, but studying so hard had the tribute of his free time. His mother deemed it important to form social connections to develop soft skills and gain prestige, but his father’s ambition quickly found hold in the young boy’s character and he pushed himself to his limits in order to impress him. Hours of studying bled into another, and at night, he finally allowed himself a break: He’d learn to leave the house in secret and play outside alone before his parents woke up. This skill was perfected over time, him getting better and better at analysing sleeping patterns and at lying, or rather bending the truth to his favour and liking. Nicandro was taught that being a pure-blood was a massive privilege as it was drilled into his head. Purity over everything. Clean blood, clean mind, clean of doubts. And what was a mere child to do when his parents claimed that that was the right and only correct way to think, to believe? The reason for his family telling him this over and over again was both because they were convinced of it themselves and to prevent him from falling in love with a muggle which would taint their carefully maintained bloodline. Slowly but surely, associating himself with simple muggles was an impossible task for him, not only because he grew up around magic and found their habits and simple way of life strange, but also because he developed an arrogant demeanour about his blood status and found himself superior. Nicandro had a lonely childhood, and while his parents tried to have him make friends with other pure-blood peers, he never seemed particularly interested in them. Conversations were too trivial and he couldn’t get his mind off his studies or the weight of his name. Nicandro Henderson, victory of a man, that’s what it was supposed to mean. Victory in competition? Victory in getting the best grades? Victory in becoming something great? What greatness could he ever achieve to satisfy himself? Thankfully, he wasn’t alone with his thoughts: his older sister Anwen confessed to feel the same pressure and they would spend their days defending each other in front of their relatives and playing games together. They were incredibly close.
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