Post by michelangelo tiberius mclaggen on Apr 12, 2020 22:58:46 GMT -7
10 ¾ inches, ebony, unicorn hair, flexible.
6’4”. Likes wearing leather and slim cut clothing. Has more tattoos and piercings than the eye can see.
06 april 2002
Mickey is his father’s son, much to his own chagrin and protesting. Growing up, he was used as Cormac’s mini-me, and while it was fun to learn how to play Quidditch at first, the constant reminder that he had to be the best and the unrelenting practices have driven him to take after his father almost exactly. Inheriting every ounce of aggressiveness and arrogance as humanly possible, Mickey has spent years trying to turn himself around. While he can go a day or two without being a jerk to someone, he fears that losing his aggressive touch will make him slow on the pitch and decrease his chances of furthering his career.
For those that knew him in school, he exhibited the worst of Gryffindor house and definitely made a name for himself as a punk and bad guy. Especially on the pitch. A loss for Gryffindor on his account (and still to this day with the Bats, but not as bad), would usually mean a smashed broom or a Quaffle being hurled across the locker room in frustration. The occasional brawl in the hallways with someone that got on his nerves definitely wasn’t out of the realm of possibility either. Mickey still doesn’t care if things he did in school come back to haunt him, because that was then and he tries his best to live in the present, as difficult as that is with his father’s shadow always looming over him.
When he’s by himself, he doesn’t like to be bothered. Obviously that can be quite the predicament when his face is plastered in the Prophet because he’s a professional Quidditch player. With fans, he has a limit to the amount of attention he can handle. A signature here or a photo there doesn’t kill him. But crowds do, and the constant hovering of the Prophet reporters do too. Despite his father being a senior Quidditch reporter, Mickey prefers to deal with other writers.
He also has little patience when it comes to people refusing to take his hearing loss into account. Suffering from a severe head injury due to a spell gone awry during his fourth year at Hogwarts, Mickey has had extreme difficulty with his hearing in his left ear. Had it been from a bludger or a nasty collision, it would have been able to be fixed. He gets irritated when people who should know better (reporters, teammates, etc), continue to ignore the issue. That and anyone that is obnoxiously loud to try and compensate for his problem.
Godric’s Hollow, England
Cormac McLaggen – father, Senior Quidditch Reporter, former professional keeper
Mandy Brocklehurst – mother, phlebotomist at St. Mungo’s
Donatella Celeste McLaggen – younger sister, circus performer, b. 2004
Raphael Caelan McLaggen – younger brother, Daily Prophet photographer, b. 2008
The eldest of the McLaggen clan, Mickey drew the short straw when it came to determining what he wanted to do with his life. He learned how to balance on a toy broom before he could even walk or talk, his father’s attempt at creating the next Michael Jordan of Quidditch. The prodigal son didn’t know any better until he was much older, and for years loved the extra attention that his father put into him. Once his father got hurt and was forced to retire at 28 though, everything started to change. Only six years old and still an only child, Mickey began a regimented training program to get him prepared for the Hogwarts house teams. While it was years off, Cormac wanted his son to be a well-rounded player, unlike when he had been in school. See, it had taken him until sixth year to even get a look, and that wasn’t going to happen to his only child once it was his turn too.
Things changed once Cormac and Mandy had their second and third child. There was too much to do with two small children and with both of the McLaggen’s careers on hold or barely starting, Mickey’s ‘training’ was put on hold for a few years. There were still rigorous flying lessons on the weekends, but Quidditch became a hobby again, as opposed to his father’s attempt at living vicariously through his son’s accomplishments. These were all revelations that Mickey came to find out himself years later, but as a child he figured he was simply being ignored because there were suddenly two new siblings taking all the attention away from him. What he would later on hate, he craved from his parents – but they simply didn’t have the time for him anymore outside of giving him practice lessons.
And so he turned eleven and went off to Hogwarts. Sorted into Gryffindor, his father’s own house, letters were immediately written to the Head of House to try and get Mickey a shot at a try-out for the team. The only problem? He was tiny at eleven years old. Even if he could fly like the best Hogwarts had at the time, there simply wasn’t a role on the current team that he could fill. A strong gust would knock him off, let alone anyone that was even slightly heavier than he was bumping into him. Even with Seeker being the only reasonable position he could play, Gryffindor already had a decent one on the team, and they couldn’t let them go just because some guy named Cormac McLaggen asked them to.
As many young children would interpret that, Mickey thought he was horrible at flying and didn’t have what it took to play Quidditch. His father had been building him up to this for years, and now he suddenly couldn’t play? This turn of events was incomprehensible for Mickey, and it led him to resent his classmates. They were happy because they could finally learn magic and maybe get their broom to lift an inch off the ground. He could fly circles around them and that meant nothing. It put a lot of anger in his tiny body, and that would continue to bubble until his third year.
By third year, he had finally grown. Still thin as a rail, it was obvious by that point that he was going to get a lot bigger and stronger. He was placed on the team as a reserve member – a just in case position in the off chance someone was injured. Most of the next year was spent practicing, and Mickey fell into a comfortable spot in the keeper position. Halfway through his fourth year, the current Gryffindor keeper was injured and he stepped into place. From then on, all eyes were on him and he finished out the season as best he could. Of course that didn’t last long for him either, because a practice spell gone wrong in class blasted him in the side of the head and left him with partial deafness in his left ear. It would take another year for him to figure out how to adjust to playing with his new problem. The role of being the full-time Gryffindor keeper didn’t come until his sixth year though. He had a few intermittent games in the position during his fifth year in preparation for the following year.
From there, it was an almost clichéd history. He got some nods from potential recruiters during his seventh year, and upon graduating he was off to training camps to make a real name for himself. His father’s whisperings about needing to be the best was always in the back of his head, and now having the size and skill to achieve that goal was within reach. The senior McLaggen would be proud of him now, right?
That was the way it was supposed to go, at least. But he joined the Ballycastle Bats, who, while historically a champion caliber team, had been awful for the last decade. His father was disappointed in the decision, and that was pretty much that. Mickey decided that the best way to reject his father was to do the opposite of everything that made him a McLaggen. If he was going to be a professional Quidditch player, he might as well live the life of one too. Clubs, drinking, and an endless amount of tattoos, piercings, and dying of his normal blonde locks had him looking as non-McLaggen as humanely possible. He liked it. He finally felt like himself, with the only interference from his father anymore being a comment from another Quidditch reporter every now and then.
For the most part, Mickey doesn’t give a damn about anything outside of his life. Which is Quidditch and drinking during his time off. The addition of the Ilvermorny students to Hogwarts didn’t both him all that much, his relationship with his younger siblings not being the fuzziest, so needless to say he didn’t really bother paying attention to their gripes about the ordeal.
To the same extent, any international turmoil, like Azkaban falling or the dragon attack on Hogsmeade, only served to displace match dates and mean amped up security. If anything, the more problems happening in the world, the more he became angrier at the situation they were all in.
In mid-May 2025, he did come down with a mild case of Hag’s Fever and spent a few weeks in Mungo’s to shake it off. His best guess on how he got it was from a fan during a post-game meet and greet. That or his local pub bartender. But that guy was hanging on pretty well as far as Mickey could tell, so that only increased the sick fan theory. Being in good health and catching it early on in the quarantine made it easier to return back to normal, and he hasn’t been too worried about the sickness since then. The most difficult part was getting back into Quidditch mode after the fact.
Still on sick leave on June 11, 2025, Mickey was in attendance at the Yorkshire v. Wasps match. He was seated in a box across from where the accident occurred with a few other pro players. This incident has torn him up over the last few weeks more than anything else. Quidditch, while not always fun for himself, was supposed to be an escape for people. They were already quarantined and risking getting sick by attending, but dying because someone couldn’t set up fireworks properly? That part has bothered him more than anything else.
deltra of gangnam style
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