Coming from a family that probably has more bureaucrat than the government itself, João Marcelo was the 'unwanted' and 'unplanned' child of an affair of his parents. His father and mother were 28 then and none of them had even one minute to raise a child, since that was the correct age to climb the stairs of fame in bureaucracy. His father had just been promoted to being the private secretary of Brazil's ambassador in Santiago, Chile; and his mother had been too busy working her way up in Ministry of Foreign Affairs. His parents never got married, and after that incident they saw each other even less, due to their busy working schedule plus now a baby.

They were reluctant to take care of him, but they were enthusiastic enough to name him after their ancestors. After some heated debates regarding whom he would be staying with, it was decided that Beatriz Neves would have the child. The poor baby needed the warmth of a mother, after all, argued the father. Plus, they wanted him to be completely Brazilian and learn Portuguese as the mother language. Thus, he lived with his mother until his fifth age. Or, more correctly, he shared the same house but generally the nannies took care of him and he would see their face more than his mother's. He grew up well, albeit without the warmth of a mother, who was too busy being the 'hard-working' secretary of the Minister himself. At the age of five, his mother had called his father and told him, quite clearly, that she had had enough of this strange kid around who unexplicable things would happen, and sent him off to Portugal, where his father worked just as hard to be appointed as an ambassador somewhere.

The man turned out to be a better father than his mother's pathetic tries of buying his love with expensive toys, although he was still a baby and everything pretty much looked the same. The woman probably hadn't noticed her son was too little to differentiate a toy car from plastic and a toy car from metal, although the latter hurt more when dropped. His father did notice however, that if not taken the necessary precautions, the boy would be lost.

Thus, instead of hiring nannies, he enrolled him a year earlier in Portuguese schools to get the burden of hiring someone to care of him in the mornings off. Therefore, he could play with the kid in the evenings, or so he had planned. Trying to be noticed and appointed somewhere as an ambassador requires much dedication, however. Thus, most of the nights he also had to work. He did make an effort, though, to be a father; maybe because he never saw the necessary attention from his parents who had also been in politics, maybe because he had wanted to be a dad deep inside, or maybe both. He would help the kid with his homework whenever he needed, and they would work to read and write or solve the maths problems. That was all such a father could offer, however, and after a while the boy had learnt to play with his expensive toys all alone, since his father couldn't carry him every day to his friends' neighbourhood. After some time, the boy had to meet the ones in their zone, who were all older and normal, unlike him who caused strange things to happen. He had learnt to be a bully there, and it would take him a few painful events to let go of the attitude.

In the five years he stayed with his father, he got to stay in Portugal for two years, only to be moved to first Ivory Coast for a year when he was nine and then to Lebanon a year after. His father had been appointed as an ambassador, at last, and although the boy's childish brain took it as good news of 'seeing daddy more' at first, he was soon to learn that it meant 'seeing daddy less face to face and more on TV'.

Needless to say; those two years had been the most painful ones. He could only befriend the kids of other workers, if they had brought their family in the first place. He attended the local schools in Ivory Coast, whose language he couldn't understand. This only resulted in tantrums and more unexplained stuff around him, like the pets dying at home and curtains burning all of a sudden. After several psychologists, it was advised that he withdrew from school and attended the international school there. He didn't understand the language there either, having only talked and written in Portuguese until then, but at least a few of the teachers could speak his language and the kids didn't pick on him because he didn't have his mother with him, who was still in Brazil and who refused to take him back. In Lebanon, things got better though and the embassy had a school there, although so small, and he was at least happy there like in the first two years with his father.

Then they were appointed in Egypt, and he loved the place. The mummies and the pyramids excited him so, and if it wasn't for his father's insistence that he be back to Brazil to learn proper Portuguese and not some other language, he was back to Brazil, next to his mother, who held even more important position now and didn't want him any more than the first time, and who, instead of toys this time, bored him with electronics.

Those two years before the special letter had been the hardest years of his life. And if he says even harder than Ivory Coast, that means something. It was bad luck, really, because his personality had started to develop, and he got to learn ambition was before anything else. Even the closest friends could be erased if something big and beneficial was at the end. He also learnt to be cruel, because if you didn't step on them, they would step on you. He learnt no love but the meaning of commitment: chains that served no one any good. Life was too short to be related to someone in any way, and love certainly did no good to anyone. If anything, it was a burden to be carried; a burden that forced you to do some sacrifices that could bring your end. All throughout his life, the only person he cared for had been his father, who had failed to return that for the last few years, making him learn the very lesson he would utilise before anything else for the rest of his life: care no one. Supplied with such information, he figured no other school could have educated him any better, and he was ready for life at the age of only ten.

Then, at the age of eleven came the letter of acceptance to the Brazilian Magic Academy. Although it caught both of his parents by surprise, he knew he had been special, if not had he already guessed he was a wizard. He had experimented when he was alone, which happened most of the time in his room. He had even managed to teach himself to control them, although very, very weakly like levitating small objects and breaking some stuff when in need--a skill that came handy when he wanted to move with his father. At that, his mother had openly stated that she was too busy for a son and although she didn't disinherit him, she never took him with her again, and he decided to never call her for the rest of his life.

After six years of serving in Europe, Africa and Middle East, his father was back in South America once again as the ambassador of Venezuela. The boy moved back with him, although that meant he could only stay in Brazilian Academy for a year. Then, he was transferred to the school in Venezuela. One year there, and his father had already been proposed to Spain, and he was there. After a year later, they were now in Italy. Although it was entertaining at once to travel around, by Spain it got boring and he was tired of changing schools and languages.

He was glad to be away from home for a while, as if he could call the cold and empty houses as 'home'. He excelled in his studies and he would soon be the best student at school. His skills of Potions, Transfiguration and Charms were of outstanding quality. He studied hard, made no binding commitments and stood on people when needed. He was sure he would be remembered there but he remembered none of them. And, at the Easter holidays his father had broke him the news: he was the ambassador of the Embassy in London.

Thus stands now this tired already and mature-than-his-age boy in here, ready to forget you once he steps out of these doors.