NAME. Argo Pyrites
DURMSTRANG. Class of 1972
BLOOD STATUS. Pureblood
OCCUPATION. Alchemist
AFFILIATION. Death Eaters, Supporter
FACE CLAIM. Sean Teale
+ dandy; reverential; stoic
– impersonal; messy; venal
On a September evening in 1954, when the first chills of autumn swept across Great Britain and summer began slowly folding into fall, Margeaux Gamp knocked on the door of her childhood home in Barnton. Her infant son slept in her arms, and his silence vividly contrasted the cries and shrieks that had filled his short existence thus far. When the house elf escorted Margeaux into the sitting room, Mr. and Mrs. Gamp’s hearts beat with both joy and sorrow. Three years had passed since their daughter’s departure, and in that time they begged and pleaded Margeaux to accept their help. She refused, turning to her vices, fueling her addictions, and collapsing further into a nightmare of her own creation. That evening, however, she uttered words the Gamps had prayed to hear. “I need your help.”
Aid came at the steep price of 5,000 Galleons—a loan that would, of course, support the livelihood of both Margeaux and her baby. Money was never an issue for the Gamps, and she knew her parents had every capability of sending her away with bags of gold. Mr. Gamp insisted their daughter move home; they would spend anything necessary for her recovery, and ensure their grandson receive an upbringing suitable for a Wizard with the ancient and pure Gamp blood that ran through his veins. Margeaux refused, demanding the 5,000 Galleons once more. Silence flooded the estate, and the truth behind their daughter’s request grew clear. Mrs. Gamp’s voice sounded steady and deliberate; she spoke words that the family never again uttered. “Your father and I will give you the Galleons, but you must leave the child with us. We will raise him, love him, and it is in his best interest that you never come back for him.” Without any hesitation, Margeaux handed her infant son to her mother, and then left Barnton with bags of gold; she would never again see her child.
Mr. and Mrs. Gamp kept their promise, raising their grandson with all the luxury that could be bought for a Wizard. They named him Argo Pyrites, and fabricated a vibrant story of his birth. The Gamps told friends and acquaintances that during her time away after graduation, Margeaux travelled across Europe and found love in Greece. She married Sander Pyrites, a diplomatic Wizard hailing from an ancient line of Greek magic. Their deaths were a tragic accident that left their only child to be raised with his maternal grandparents. The story elicited apologies and pity for Argo, but the Gamps never accepted the latter, for they knew their grandson was destined for greatness.
It was this belief that fueled Argo’s desire to excel, particularly in subjects of extreme difficulty and ones requiring rare abilities. To refine his interest in martial magic, Argo attended the Durmstrang Institute where he dabbled in an education of the Dark Arts. He discovered his affinity for potions and transfiguration, which paved the way for his greatest curiosity and passion: Alchemy. After graduation, the Gamps ensured their grandson’s admission to the prestigious Egyptian Centre for Alchemical Studies, where Argo spent three years honing the rare and arduous craft of Alchemy. After concluding his studies, Argo returned to Great Britain to find his grandparents beaming with pride—for not only did their grandchild grasp talent beyond their wildest dreams, but a great and powerful Wizard also sought to purify their world from the filth that polluted it.
PAST. If it were up to Mrs. Gamp, Argo would live a full life never once doubting the story of his parents, but Mr. Gamp felt differently. Their grandson deserved to know the truth of his mother, particularly when he would be old enough to understand why the Gamps fabricated such a lie. After Argo concluded his studies at Durmstrang, his grandparents finally told the truth—that his father wasn’t a Greek diplomat, and Pyrites was nothing more than a name pulled out of thin air. While Gamp blood undoubtedly ran through his veins, Argo’s father was a mystery. His grandparents quickly insisted that Argo’s father must be a pureblood Wizard. After all, Argo’s prodigious gifts could never be achieved by someone with Muggle blood. Doubting his grandparents would unravel Argo’s very being, and for the most part, he believes his father was of pure blood. And yet Argo can’t help but wonder if his existence, and the concept of blood purity itself, is nothing more than lies.
PRESENT. Christmas evening of 1975 drastically and permanently altered Argo’s life. What started as a simple experiment---an alchemical composition performed countless times before---ended with a terrifying fire that engulfed Argo’s basement laboratory, and he along with it. His cries of agony awoke the Gamp manor, and his grandparents promptly rushed Argo to St. Mungo’s. While his life was spared, he emerged from the accident with severe burns from his forearms to hands. Months later, his skin remains incredibly sensitive and can be prone to bleeding at even the slightest touch. Argo still drowns in embarrassment, and not due to the appearance of scars, but rather because it reminds him of failure, his defeat that is permanently carved into his body. He dons silk gloves to hide the scars, and is able to conceal his atrocious negligence (for the most part).
FUTURE. After the accident, Argo’s inability to work during the recovery process resulted in him being fired from Potions for All Afflictions. While his grandparents sought to sue the shop, Argo considered it a blessing in disguise, for it allowed him to devote more time to healing and expanding his magical abilities. In particular, Argo finds himself intrigued with a rather old book he purchased at Borgin and Burkes, which elaborates on the strange history of inferi. The Dark Art of Necromancy is certainly not a branch of magic to be tampered with, and yet Argo can’t seem to turn away from his macabre curiosities.
* . Eventual author of Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science.
