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HOMETOWN ] Uppsala, Sweden
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CURRENT RESIDENCE ] Durmstrang during the academic year, during the summer he lives in a flat in Västerås, Sweden. Or when he’s traveling, he’ll either camp out, or stay in a hotel.
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PETS ] Axel,
a red fox that he rescued after finding it injured and abandoned while hiking through a forest 3 miles away from his home. He took the little guy in, and nursed him back to full health, with Axel becoming a loyal companion.
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HISTORY ]
{triggers;; this history has mentions of drug abuse, including drug overdose.}His parents met in an unexpected manner. Esbjörn Nyström had been working tirelessly on an alchemical experiment, testing out ways different ways to transmute different materials. Practicing and researching the different methods that he believed would help to make him become a true alchemist one day. After one particular practice session, Esbjörn managed to do something that caused his worktable to explode. He’d tried to transmute the wooden desk into steel, resulting in splinters of wood flying everywhere. Including his body. The worst of the damage was a long piece of wood from the leg being impaled in his arm. Covered in scratches and bleeding profusely, the man made a desperate effort to apparate to the hospital. The result ended with him splinching a few hairs off his head, though he’d somehow managed to make it without too much damage. How, exactly? That itself was practically a miracle, and thanks in part to his stubborn nature.
At the hospital, Esbjörn was healed by a young healer by the name of Astrid. The two seemed to hit if off instantly, with the alchemist not shying away from trying to flirt whenever the woman would check in on him. While they’d gone to school together, this was the first time either had really interacted in a manner other than passing each other by in the hallways. When he was all healed up and dismissed to leave, Esbjörn surprised Astrid by asking her one a date. Hesitantly she agreed, and a week later they finished a successful first date. After going out a few more times they agreed to enter a relationship, one that lasted for over two years. On the eve of their third anniversary as a couple, Esbjörn decided it was time to propose to the woman he’d grown to love. It wasn’t long after that Astrid gave birth to their first child, a little girl named Katarina.
It was another six years when Astrid became pregnant with her second child, after her and Esbjörn had been trying for well over a year. There was a benefit in waiting, as it allowed the family to make necessary adjustments and prepare for another child. However, there was the downside that Katarina had begun to relish in being an only child, with the young girl protesting greatly to the mere idea of having a younger sibling. She was a fiery little thing who caused her mother more than a little stress by throwing tantrums, and demanding that she’d always be number one. The outburst calmed down in the later months of Astrid’s pregnancy, as both parents helped prepare their eldest daughter for the future. With Esbjörn promising the young girl that she’d have a more important role, in that she would need to help protect her younger brother or sister. By the time Thorir was born on a cold December night, his older sister was okay with having a little brother. She wasn’t enthused, per say, but she’d been taught to accept the inevitable future.
For the most part, Thorir’s childhood was rather uneventful. Both his parents worked hard in their respective careers, while taking time to raise their small children. Early on he was never super close with his older sister. Between the age gap, and Katarina’s pushy personality the two siblings spent more time avoiding each other rather spending time together. He did learn early on that he could count on her to have his back at least. After an incident where he was being bullied by some neighborhood kids when he was six, it was Kat who rushed in to defend him. He watched in silence as his sister threatened to beat each of them senseless if they didn’t leave Thorir alone. Not that Thor showed much gratitude. Instead of thanking his sister for chasing the bullies away, he lashed out at her. Yelled about how he could have handled the situation himself, and how he’d only receive more trouble afterwards because she’d made him look weak. It was stupid and childish, but he felt like his boyish pride had been tainted.
His relationship with his sister only became more strained after that, with the two of them avoid each other at most hours. The only times when they were in the same room was when they were forced to. Thor’s relationship with his mother was far, far better. He was a reckless, adventurous little scamp growing up. A boy always eager to explore the world around him, and get into all kinds of mischief. To the surprise of no one he managed to injure himself a lot because of his shenanigans. Thank Merlin his mother was a healer! Whenever he injured himself, it was always his ma who would rush out to heal him as soon as possible. He rarely had to worry about any of his various scrapes and wounds becoming infected, except that one time he got bit by a dog and tried to hide for a few days, thanks in part to having a healer who was always on hand to take care of her son. It was followed by a stern lecture of course, one of which he ignored, but it also allowed the two time to bond. And despite it all Thor grew closer to her because of it. Having to help wash dishes as punishment for going through with a dare to jump out of a tree felt worth it in the end. He loved running around and exploring, and being a reckless pain in the ass. And as he grew older he learned to appreciate his Ma so much more. There were a few occasions he almost thought about being a healer like her.
It was his relationship with his father that was probably the rockiest. After Thorir had been born, Esbjörn had initially been thrilled over the idea of having a son to bound with. The man wanted to bound with him through books, as well as on an intellectual level and hoped to one day introduce him to the art of alchemy. As Thor grew older it quickly became apparent that he wasn’t most definitely not an intellectual. He preferred the outdoors, and preferred taking part in athletics. Football had quickly become one of his favorite hobbies, and he’d spend hours just kicking a ball back and forth even when he didn’t have anyone to practice with. So with the difference in their personalities came a difficultly for the father and son to bond.
At some point Esbjörn decided to invite Thorir to study with him. Okay so invite probably wouldn’t be the correct word, it was more like his father forced him to sit behind a desk and watch the man work, under the threat that he wouldn’t be able to go outside until he spent time with his father. He was utterly miserable the entire time. Instead of quietly going along with it, like he might have if he’d been given a choice, Thor spent most of the time loudly complaining. Complaining about how useless his father’s work was, and how he never seemed to make any money doing his research. That was definitely not okay. As soon as he saw the anger flash in his father’s eyes, Thor backed up against the wall apologizing with every single step. His efforts didn’t stop his father from storming over in a rage, locking eyes on the young boy in front of him. Fueled by damaged pride Esbjörn lashed out, his hand flying toward Thorir. The moment the hand made contact with his face, Thor glanced up at his father with anger in his eyes while fighting back whatever tears were trying to escape. He wouldn’t cry. No, he’d remain strong, continue refusing to something just because his father tried to force him to do it.
From that point on their relationship only became more and more complicated. To be fair it wasn’t all bad. When Thorir wasn’t fighting with his father, there were a few times when they actually got along. It was thanks to his father that he learned to appreciate books. His father had managed to obtain a rather large collection of reading material, and it wasn’t hard for Thor to find something that interested him. If only an interest in books had been enough for his father. But no, the man seemed determined to try to warp him into something he was not.
His letter to attend Durmstrang eventually came, which wasn’t a surprise to anyone. Both of his parents had attended the school, and his sister was already a student. Thorir himself was looking forward to attending, if only to put some distance between him and his father. He loved the man, he really did, but there was only so much a boy could take. It was beginning to feel like all he ever did was argue with his father, and he wondered if being away would help repair some of the damage between them. Or maybe going to school might help him to be the son his father wanted him to be. Maybe he needed to be around an academic environment in order to appreciate his father’s studies. It might make him more eager to pursue knowledge, and obtain new information that he might be able to share with his father. That way they could get along.
Thorir’s years at Durmstrang flew by with little complications. He was sorted into Hvergelmir at the beginning of his first year, spending the rest of it learning his way around the campus. The next few years were mostly the same. He’d concentrate as much as possible during classes, while taking an instant liking to the more physical classes. He wasn’t stupid, far from it in fact. If he put in the effort and worked hard enough, Thorir was capable of passing most of his classes with ease. It was the more information based classes that he struggled with the most, as anything where he had to memorize facts or dates or anything proved difficult. He learned early on that he was a more hands on learner, so anything where he was able to actually practice doing something proved a lot easier.
He tried out for the Quidditch team during his fourth year, proving to be capable enough to earn a position as a reserve. Later on he was also invited to join Ulveflokk after getting into a fight with one of the members, and coming out on top. It was through the unofficial club, where he was able to vent out his frustrations. True he was able to make friends through Quidditch and the fight club, but socializing had never been at the top of his priority list. Fifth year he managed to become the seeker for the Hvergelmir house team, which proved to be enough motivation for him to not be lazy with his studies. His sixth year he directed all his attention to performing to the best of his abilities in school, while using Ulveflokk as a necessary therapeutic method of dealing with stress. After one particularly stressful day, he managed to take down the Beta Male, earning himself the title as a reward.
As soon as he graduated from Durmstrang, he began training to work as a magi zoologist instead of accepting a few offers to go play quiddtich professionally. Care of Magical Creatures had long been amongst his favorite classes while at Durmstrang, so much in fact that he wasted no time finding someone to train under. That someone was a well-respected zoologist within the magical community who had written quite a few books on the subject. The opportunity to train under such an individual was impossible to turn down, in fact he would have punched himself if he didn’t take it. So, he spent the next few years in training and traveling along with his mentor learning how to care for and deal with different creatures.
He was twenty when he returned home to visit his parents after spending the entirety of summer traveling around Europe. In truth, he wanted to catch up with both, while making an effort to share some of what he had learned with his father. Things didn’t go as well as he had hoped. Instead of bonding with his father, he instead spent most of his time there fighting with the man. Instead of saying that he was proud of him for finding a job that he was good at, his father instead decided then was the perfect time to try and convince him to train under the man. To try to push him once again into pursuing alchemy. Every outburst of Thorir’s was only met with more arguing, with more disappointed looks from his father. Worst was that he didn’t understand what he was doing wrong? He had proven that he was intelligent, that he enjoyed learning new things when something called for him. Hadn’t that been what his father wanted? Nope. Instead it seemed as long as he held no interest in his father’s own interest, then he would forever be a disappointment. If he wouldn’t carry on the man’s research after he decided to retire, then Thorir wasn’t the kind of son Esbjörn wanted.
The arguing took a turn for the worst, when his father tried to convince him to give up his training for a year in order to help out at him. Esbjörn was researching new alchemical information, wanting to find ways of create new forms of life. It was all ridiculous, with all the talk going over Thor’s head. The more his father tried to convince him to help out with the research, the more arguing would ensure. It eventually reached a point where he exploded with anger, calling his father an idiot for even thinking his research was even possible. He went so far to call the man crazy and egotistical before storming out of the house.
Desperate to get away from his father, and cool his head, Thorir spent the following months dedicating all his time to his work. He turned to his mentor for advice, beginning to look to the man as a father figure. Almost saw him as being like the father he never had. Every so often he’d send a letter to his mother, and even his sister when he deemed it appropriate to contact her. The siblings still weren’t close, but he had outgrown whatever sort of rivalry had once been there.
It was while he was away that his father died. Thorir was Romania when he received the news via an owl from his mother, and at first he found it difficult to take in. The cause of death was said to have been by an explosion, with medial reports assuming that something had gone wrong in one of his experiments. There were also rumors that he might have been rumored. When he returned to Sweden for the funeral, he didn’t hesitate to ask what had happened. He wanted answers. Even if no one seemed able to provide all the details, there were a few things he learned that were suspicions. His mother mentioned how Esbjörn had been meeting with a shady group of friends for the past month, and how she feared the man might have gotten involved in something bad. The more he listened the guiltier he began to feel. If his father had gotten involved too deeply in some serious bad shit, then maybe he should have done something to help. What if he had accepted his father’s offer months earlier instead of arguing with the man? He began questioning if instead of trying to force him into doing something he didn’t want, that maybe his father was trying to ask for help in the only way he knew how.
The more Thorir thought over things, the guiltier he felt that his last interactions with his father hadn’t exactly been great. They had argued, with Thor losing his temper to the point where he refused to speak to the man for months. Even if Esbjörn had tried to offer an apology, he wouldn’t have listened.
He fell into a downward spiral from there, only feeling more and more guilty whenever thoughts of his father would cross his mind. Thorir thought back to all the times when they actually got along, and to all the fights they had had. Esbjörn had never been a perfect father, but he still loved him. To deal with the pain and the guilt of not being there earlier, he found himself turning to drugs. Spending his money on whatever he thought would numb the pain, or help bring an end to the endless guilt. He spent months neglecting his job, refusing any offers that were brought to him. He became a husk of his former self. Occasionally he’d go to parties, particularly those where he knew he would get his hands on some kind of party drug. His relationship with his family and friends grew ever more complicated, as he refused to listen to anyone who tried to reach out to snap him out of whatever he was going through.
Thorir became almost unrecognizable the more addictive he became. Drugs were all he had, all he needed, and soon he had forgotten why he had turned to them in the first place. That wasn’t the worst of it though. His sister confronted him one day, and wasted no time yelling at him to get his act together. Her words hit him deeply. Hearing another person talk about how he wasn’t recognizable anymore was one thing, but hearing how once again he was proving to be a disappointment caused something inside him to snap. Anger rising, he yelled at her to leave, before slamming the door in Hanna’s face. As soon as he was alone, Thorir broke down. He had an emotional breakdown, and in the midst of it once again sought out drugs hoping they would take away the pain.
A couple days later he awoke laying in a hospital bed, with all his remaining family surrounding him. He’d learned that Hanna had went in to check in on him again later, only to find him lying unconscious on his floor. He’d overdosed, and if his sister hadn’t found him then he might very well have died then and there.
To say he was grateful was a severe understatement. As soon as he was allowed to leave, Thorir sought out his sister in order to ask her to help him get back on his feet. Hanna was there for him when he was at his worst. She helped him to combat his drug addiction, until he was ready to go back to work. In that time, the two bonded with their relationship growing ever the stronger. With his sister there to snap some sense into him, he slowly rebuilt his life to how it was before his father’s death. Only this time he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault that his father had died. Gradually he went back to work, choosing to go back to working with his mentor before taking on any solo jobs. The whole time he knew that if he ever needed someone to talk to about emotions or just open up to, he at least had his sister who he could rely on. It wasn’t easy, but it was almost a relief to not be fighting with anyone in his family for once.
Thorir was twenty-three when he first met Katarina, a beautiful young woman who was an employee at a flower shop. He ran into her while purchasing a bouget to place on his father’s grave a day before the anniversary of the man’s death. A token of respect, and part of an apology that he would never be able to personally give. After the initial meeting, the two of them ran into each other again at a coffee shop. It was this moment where he allowed himself to flirt with Katarina, before asking if she’d go out to grab lunch with him. For some bizarre reason she accepted, with the lunch date ending up being rather successful. The two of them had hit it off, and before he knew it they were officially dating.
And they remained together for ten years, with Thorir falling more and more in love with her with each day. If it wasn’t due to some prodding by his mother and sister, vague comments about why he hadn’t proposed, he might have never thought of it. It during the Christmas holidays of their tenth year together when he finally popped the question. He went through the effort to make the occasion as romantic as possible, even creating a flower that would change colors every other minute. Kat’s favorite flower in shades of all of her favorite colors. To his relief she said yes, and they immediately set off to begin planning the big wedding.
Three months after he had proposed, Katarina found out that she was pregnant. It initially came as a surprise, one that only made him fall more in love with her. He wasn’t only going to marry the love of his life, but he was going to be a father. A father. As terrifying as it was, a part of him was looking forward to raising a child. He wasn’t certain if he’d be a good one, probably not, but he had faith that he could learn. He’d learn alongside Katarina.
The months passed by, and he only grew more nervous and excited. He tried to be there to help his fiancé as much as possible, practically becoming a big puppy who would eagerly do whatever she asked him to do. The downside was that he was also blinded by Kat’s sudden change in behavior. The further she was in her pregnancy, the more distant she seemed to act around him. To knowing eyes, it was almost like she wanted nothing to do with him, like she was trying to do whatever she could to avoid him. Something had changed in their relationship, with Thorir being too oblivious to notice.
He was there to witness the birth of his daughter, however. Doing all he could to encourage Katarina through the whole ordeal. When the doctor asked if he wanted to hold his little girl, he did so with tender enthusiasm. His eyes lit up immediately as he looked down on the little angel who he’d helped bring into the world, even if she hadn’t exactly been planned. He wasn’t able to hold her for long, however, as it seemed as soon as his arms were wrapped around the small girl he was hearing someone shouting at him. Katarina was shouting at him to put their daughter down, to hand her over to her instead. Shocked he handed Annika over with questioning anything, but over the next few days his eyes were gradually opened to just how much had changed. He became aware that maybe his fiancé no longer wanted nothing to do with him, yet he would sweep any evidence under the rug in constant denial. He loved her too much. Was still living in a word where they were going to get married, and raise little Annika together and be a family?
When Katarina was released from the hospital along with they daughter, she never returned to the house the two of them had lived in together. She never sent word where she was going, or why she no longer wanted to live with him. Just like that she had left his life almost as if their whole relationship had meant nothing, and with no warning. Thorir was confused. He tried getting in contact with Katarina, in a desperate need to get answers. It took three months before he received any form of reply. Sometime after she had become pregnant she’d met someone else, and had fallen in love with them. He read over the letter she’d sent him, growing more and more somber with each passing word. Just like that things were over. Katarina had left him for someone else, and taken their daughter with her. The wedding would never happen, and he suspected that he’d never be a father either. There was a chance that his daughter would grow up never knowing who he was. Who her father was.
For the second time in his life he sunk into a serious rut of depression, though fortunately he didn’t turn to drugs for comfort this time. He’d learned his lesson. Once again his sister was there to support him, with his mother offering a few words of comfort as well. His family were proving to be the only ones who he could comfortably confide in; the only ones who he could allow himself to open up to. Still he never felt angry at Katarina. Betrayed, maybe a little. But he remained too much in love with her to throw too much blame at her. For things to go the way they did, he was convinced that it had to be partially his fault. That somewhere in their last few months as a couple, he must have done something to ruin whatever relationship they had.
With his sister remaining steadfastly by his side, Thorir gradually recovered from the emotional problems that had plagued him. Not fully, with a part of him remaining unable to overcome the pain of having someone he loved so deeply walk out of his life. He was able to go back to work, and to go on living life as much as possible. After a few months had passed, he even tried dating for a bit, but no matter what kind of connection he may have felt, he was never able to bring himself to actually want to get into another serious relationship. He didn’t think he could allow himself to trust someone as much as he had Katarina.
He was thirty-four when he decided to apply to be the Care of Magical Creatures professor at Durmstrang, after hearing that the position had opened up. Teaching had never been at the top of his list for careers, but he had the sudden realization that maybe it would be good for him. It would allow him to share all the knowledge and experience he’d gain from working as a magi-zoologist to others. Out of all the applicants he must have been the best, as he received word that he had been hired a couple months before the new term was to begin. A chapter in his life had begun, and he was hoping it wouldn’t be a disastrous one.
His first year teaching wasn’t so bad. Some of the students were difficult to work with, true, but he found himself genuinely caring about them. As intimidating and serious as he might have been, Thorir took pride whenever he watched someone succeed in his classroom. He appreciated it more when students took an interest in the subject material. Over the summers he’d still occasionally take on zoologist jobs, as he saw it as an opportunity to do research for future lessons. Just because he was a Professor didn’t mean he was finished learning, if anything it might have fueled his desire to continue finding new creatures that he could gather information about.
