OC yap
Marlowe (Low) Brooks lore: apparently I created a Hufflepuff beater with separation anxiety, a greenhouse addiction, anger management issues and the emotional self-awareness of a teaspoon.
Marlowe is a Muggleborn Metamorphmagus. The problem with being a Metamorphmagus is that it’s pretty hard to hide when your hair starts changing colors every time you throw a tantrum. Which meant his parents knew very early on that there was something different about him.
After kindergarten, it was decided that he’d move from Germany to London to live with his aunt, who was already part of the wizarding world and could help him navigate all the weird magical nonsense. He never blamed his parents for it. still writes them constantly and visits whenever he can.
His aunt owns a magical plant shop and is basically the reason he knows anything useful. She taught him about magical plants, potions, creatures, cooking, and generally how not to accidentally die.
Marlowe absolutely adores her.
Which is why he becomes unbearable whenever she starts dating someone new. Every boyfriend gets investigated. Every boyfriend is suspicious. Every boyfriend is probably hiding something - no evidence required. He just hates the idea of some random bloke showing up and acting like he belongs in their lives.
Growing up in the shop means Marlowe is weirdly good at anything involving plants. He can identify most magical herbs by smell alone, knows exactly how much sunlight a plant needs, and talks to them when nobody is around. He denies this.
He’s also naturally talented at Potions because, according to him it’s just cooking but people pretend it’s harder. This statement has started at least three arguments with top students.
Care of Magical Creatures is another subject he’s annoyingly good at because animals seem to like him. Probably because they can tell he’s genuine. Loud, rude, impulsive, foul-mouthed but genuine.
His grades would actually be excellent if he could go a single week without getting into a fight.
Unfortunately, Marlowe suffers from a chronic condition called ‘seeing something unfair and immediately making it his problem.’
He rarely starts fights for himself.
Bully a younger student? Fight.
Insult his aunt? Fight.
Mess with one of his friends? Fight.
Make someone he cares about cry? Congratulations on your upcoming funeral.
He’s the type of person who gets detention for punching someone and then argues with the professor because he’d do it again.
But his biggest flaw isn’t his temper.
It’s denial.
Marlowe can identify fifty different magical plants. He can brew advanced potions. He can read Quidditch formations at a glance.
He can absolutely not identify his own feelings.
The entire school will know he has a crush before he does. His hair will literally turn pink.
He will still deny it.
He is, unfortunately, an idiot.
A lovable idiot. But an idiot nonetheless.
Also somewhere under his bed is a shoebox full of old letters from his parents, childhood drawings, Quidditch tickets, and little keepsakes he’s collected over the years.
If anyone finds it, he’ll throw himself into the Black Lake before admitting how sentimental he actually is.
Despite being a Metamorphmagus, Marlowe barely uses his abilities.
Most people assume he’d love them. He doesn’t.
His hair changing colors with his emotions is one thing. He can’t control that. It’s as natural as breathing.
But actively changing himself? That makes his skin crawl.
No matter what happens, no matter how bright or ridiculous the color of his hair becomes, the roots remain dark. Black. The same color as his parents’ hair. The same color they’ve always been. The same color he started with. Most people never think twice about it.
But Marlowe has a deep fear that if he changed too much, if he leaned too heavily into an ability that lets him become anything, eventually he might lose himself.
So he keeps the changes small. Just his hair because he can‘t help it anyways.
Very funny that his Patronus turned out to be a chameleon. A shape-shifter with a shape-shifting Patronus. How fitting.
Took Marlowe years to understand that while a chameleon constantly changes it never stops being a chameleon.
It changes colors. Not itself. A little Like Low.
