{: Name :} The Queen *ahem* I dunno, memba!?
{: Appearance :} *cheats*



{: RP Sample :}

Sylvester was not in a good mood. He was in a horrible mood. He was walking down the perfect corridors of the perfect, stupid hotel in the perfect bloody country where they ate frog's legs and all of that crazy stuff that Sylvester never would to introduce to his tastebuds. Everything had been going so well by the time he had left Hogwarts. His parents had assured him that everything was going alright with the business and that there was nothing to worry about. The apparent cash that was flowing in had disappeared without even a goodbye and here he was subjected to absolute poverty.

Yes, that's right folks. The Rook's branch of hotels had all went plummeting down to nothing. No one seemed to care for them anymore. Not the good service, the good food, the good hygiene. None of it! Instead, they were all spending their galleons on hotels such as this one that Sylvester was currently in.

Herald Rook needed a job to get some income to keep them all bloody living at least and no other wizarding hotels were employing apart from this one here... in the south of bloomin' France. "Dad," Sylvester pleaded with his father who was in the lobby of the hotel. "Could you please just consider going into something other than hotels?"

This was just downright embaressing. Herald Rook had not got himself a position in any old hotel. He had got himself an assistant manager position in a MONTAGUE-WARRINGTON hotel. Sylvester knew his life was over, because when he thought it couldn't get any worse... it had. It appeared that the manager Herald was assisting was Damien Trice. Damien bloody Trice of the bloody Trice family.

Not only was Sebastian Montague entitled to taking the micky out of Sylvester, but so was Julian Trice.

"Shut up Sylvester. This is only temporary until I can find my bearings," Herald replied in his snappish tone that he had recently inherited to cover his obvious embarssment. It was like Batman being Penguin's shoe buffer. It was sick, twisted and evil.

Fate sucks.

Sylvester headed for the stairs where he had every intention of climbing up seven floors to bury his head in a pillow of their room and hope that sleep would overcome his already proceeding nightmare. Fat chance. But he had nothing better to do. Not unless he wanted to go buff some penguin feet.

His mother was working part time in a library back home for those extra pennies. She just floo'd back and forth. She didn't know any French so she couldn't have worked in one here, but for all the extra travelling took, it wasn't a huge worry.

Yes, Sylvester's life had hit rock bottom and he couldn't wait to go back to Hogwarts. At least he was still getting brand new things and not second hand jobs, that is all he would have needed. To advertise his poverty at the moment. At least they were bringing in some decent money, not as much as they were used to, but it was a healthy sum.

That proved there was one good thing about the Montagues: They weren't stingy.

What floor he was on? Three! Good Merlin! He decided to screw the stairs and take the elevator because his feet were becoming sore. He pushed the stupid fancy button and waited for the stupid fancy elevator of the stupid fancy hotel to come down and pick him up, plz.