Alastor (/əˈlæstər, -tɔːr/): The personification of a curse. He is a walking two-way mirror; a nesting doll (trunk?) of secrets.
"Consummate survivor," equipped with the memory of an elephant, in the business of making your business his business. Grizzled from bloody years of firefights with the dark, distrustful by way of parasitic paranoia, rendered utterly intransigent by nurture and nature both - a steadfast member of The Order of the Phoenix, with as sharp an eye for potential allies as enemies.
(They are often one and the same.)
He is citric acid on an ulcerated tongue: an acquired taste at best, liable to favor stubbornly tolerant palates. Beneath the surly-sour brusqueness is...well.
Does anyone know?
Voted most likely to throw an unopened gift in the trash right in front of you.
He’ll be dining in tonight, thanks.