Name; Francis Eugene Longbottom
Nicknames; Frank of the Ferns.
Age/Birthday; November 18, 1958, making him 27 on his way to 28.
Wand Hand; Right.
Wand; Oak, 12 inches, unicorn hair core.
House; Gryffindor, though he was very nearly a Hufflepuff. If it were up to him, Frank could have gone comfortably into either, but Frank knew what House his mother was pulling for.

Mother; Augusta Francine Longbottom, nee Summers.
Relationship; Frank is scared of his mum, in the way only the most devoted of sons could be. He's scared of letting her down, of making her angry, of being late for tea with her, of upsetting her in any way, and not just because Augusta Longbottom is a strong (and, Frank's always suspected, secretly completely bad ass as hell) woman, but because he loves her and wants to make her proud. But it's not hard for Frank to make Augusta proud of him. She may seem hard on him from time to time, telling him to take this class instead of that, go into this career, not that one, stand up straight, don't put your elbows on the table, eat your vegetables, don't talk so loud, etc., etc., Augusta is incredibly proud of Frank and everything he does. She just wanted to make sure he didn't rest on that fact as he grew up. He had potential and he was brave, there was no way in hell she was going to let him lounge around the house until he was 30 without getting a job.
Frank and his mother have always got on fairly well, and, at heart, he always hoped to make her proud. It didn't really take much to make Mrs. Longbottom proud of her son, as he was a strong, brave boy, and she doted on him after the death of Neville. Augusta could be strict at times, as she grew up in a disciplined house and was very used to having everything just so, but Frank rarely broke her rules. Though she never quite understood why he would want to become an Auror, she respected his decision, and she worried about his safety. All the while, she bragged about her son Frank's bravery.
Father; David Talmadge Longbottom.
Relationship; Frank had a totally different yet exactly the same kind of relationship with his dad. It was totally different because Frank wasn't afraid of his father, not in the slightest, even though he was a Hitwizard and knew probably about 10 ways to kill a man. He also wasn't secretly bad ass, he was just straight up bad ass. It was exactly the same because all he wanted to do was make him proud, but he never had to do the slightest thing to do that. Frank and his father were a lot alike -- friendly, optimistic, easy to get along with, as well as stubborn and hotheaded and lacking just a dash of common sense, -- and they bonded over everything. Sometimes Frank even made up things in common with his father just so he could be exactly like him when he grew up, while David spurred him on to even bigger dreams. To this day, Frank doesn't have a single negative memory or thought about his father, though he does sometimes wonder how he ended up falling in love with his mother. Opposites attract?
Siblings; He had an older brother named Neville who died of Leukemia when he was 13. He was three years, one month and eight days older than Frank. Aside from him, Frank never even had a close cousin. He started Hogwarts pretty lonely-like.
Relationship; For the ten years Frank knew his brother, he admired him, as most younger brothers do. When he was healthy, he thought Neville was funny, smart, kind and fair -- though he was also kind of a jerk and he pushed him down all the time and even bit him hard enough to leave a scar. Jerk. In those days, despite the occasional beatings and scar-inducing bites, Neville was the protective sibling who placed his arm around Frank's shoulder when danger was near. Not that they really encountered a whole hell of a lot of danger in Shoreham, but sometimes the neighbour's dog got really close and barked really loud, and that's when Neville was totally there. When he got sick, Frank got to know his brother in a new light. That was when he got to know his brother as brave, strong, and a good man, even at 10 through 13, and Frank became the protective one. The day his brother died, Frank did not cry. Instead, he cried the day he realized his brother was not going to get better and was going to die. Ever since, he decided to stay strong and brave so he could be just like his brother.

History;
In Shoreham, England, there is a modest, two-story home where Augusta and David Longbottom live. It's a cute, neat home, built some time around the turn of the century by Eugene Longbottom. He was not, for the record, the father of David Longbottom, but, instead, his favourite uncle, who was killed in a motorcycle accident at the age of 95. His grieving widow disappeared the day after his funeral, probably to join the circus, leaving the home to Eugene's sane and down to earth nephew, David, who had made it all the way to the age of 25 without riding a motorcycle or an elephant. That was because being a hitwizard gave David more than enough excitement, and he got to keep his feet on the ground for it.
Under the care of the mentally stable Augusta and David, the home became a traditional (and boring) one, where the father went off to work, the mother cared for the kids and the home, and the children studied and played peacefully in the backyard. They were good, quiet neighbours who never forgot to tip the paper boy (or the paper owl), handed out full bars of chocolate on Halloween, with the reminder to "brush all the teeth you want to keep!", never overfilled their rubbish bins, and stayed the hell out of the other neighbours' business. The two happy, loving parents and their two well-behaved sons formed some sort of a weird living, breathing greeting card, and it freaked everyone else out. It was a good thing the children were homeschooled; if they went to the same primary school as the other children, the other mothers might be forced to interact with the perfect Augusta and her ruggedly handsome husband^* and eat her perfect biscuits that tasted like rainbows and unicorns. Or something like that.
Even with all the rumours of Augusta secretly being a robot and David being a double agent spy (though for who or what was under contention, the favourite theory had to do with lumberjacks and sailors from the future), they really were just a very normal 1960s suburban family. The fact that they were magical -- and purebloods, at that -- was really just a footnote in their lives. Neville and Frank got along smashingly, only occasionally making each other bleed and fearing their mother to exactly the appropriate degree. There was a good reason for that. She was also their teacher, and she was tough. They studied under her thumb all morning, then played for about an hour in the afternoon, ate lunch (outside whenever possible, because inside meant more schoolwork and chores), ran back inside to study some more, and then dropped everything the minute their father came in the door, shouting something he thought was 10 times more clever than "Honey, I'm home!" but really wasn't.
The perfect, quirky, cheerful dynamic of the household changed, though, when Frank's older brother Neville got sick. At the age of 10 years old, Neville was diagnosed with Leukemia. The specific kind is completely lost to Frank -- it went over his head then and he couldn't remember it if he tried now, -- but they all knew that was bad news from the get go. Neville was strong, he was the one more like their tough crime fighting dad, but the illness took that strength from him. It was at that point that neighbors stopped whispering about the Stepford Wives-like quality of the Longbottom household^** and started bringing over casseroles and offering to babysit Frank. Their household stopped being a traditional, cheerful household with studies in the morning and chores on the weekend. Instead, many sleepless nights were spent in hardbacked hospital chairs, waiting for something to go wrong, Augusta was forced to take a job to help pay for his treatments, and Frank spent a lot more time at his grandma's house. And Gran Longbottom was even meaner than Augusta, and the plastic and cheap and easy to break toys in her house were for little kids, and none of the games were very fun when Frank didn't have his brother there to challenge him at every turn. To put it very, very frankly^***, things pretty much just turned to shit.
Frank's brother, Neville Talmadge Longbottom, died at 13 years old, when Frank was just short of 10. Though Frank would always remember that day as the worst day in his life, he remembered very little of the day's events. His grandmother was crying into his shoulder as she held him by her side, and he wasn't allowed in the room for most of his brother's last couple hours because Neville was no longer himself anymore. He was weak, pale, and just a shadow of his former self, and David and Augusta didn't want that to be Frank's last memory of his older brother. If it wasn't for his brother dying, all Frank would have remembered about the day was that it was boring and cold, and nowhere near as bad as that day in training when he overslept, nearly failed a test and threw up in the hallway, not even in a bin. But someone dying kind of makes even the vaguest of memories the worst by default, doesn't it?
Frank was glad he didn't remember much from that day, though. He remembered the funeral several days later in near perfect detail.
Two years later, Frank was accepted to Hogwarts, and his mother nearly made him miss the train as she clung to him protectively and told him over and over again to be careful. She also told him to study hard, listen up in class, be nice to the other boys in his dorm, watch his step, don't walk under ladders, don't cry over spilt milk, eat his vegetables and write her every chance he got, but, really, she was telling him to be careful. Frank promised he would, because if he got hurt, she was going to kick his arse.
His Sorting took a good five minutes, as the Hat argued between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff (and Frank debated too, unable to help the hat one damn bit because he knew his parents would love for him to be a Gryffindor, but damnit if his mother didn't know that Hufflepuffs tended to have a lower casualty rate), but, in the end, a Gryffindor he was to be. Without any help from Frank, the Hat had to figure that his kind-of-reckless courage and overwhelmingly idealistic desire to right every wrong in the world made him more of a Gryffindor than a Hufflepuff. Whatever, Frank could have gone either way in that debate. But once in Gryffindor, he immediately clicked with his Housemates -- even the weird kid that he shared a dorm with who smelled like smoke and cried when his pencil broke. Frank was just too nice of a guy not to get along with people, and he did his best to ruffle as few feathers as possible in school.
The "I'm such a nice guy that I would find the middle ground on a tightrope attitude did get in his way a little when he was appointed Gryffindor Prefect in his fifth year, but he took his responsibilities seriously, no matter how many feathers he ruffled. It also helped that Alice Thornton was his fellow Prefect, and Frank had had the craziest of crazy crushes on her since they were, like, 12. During the hours of boring Prefect duties, wandering the halls of the castle on the off chance that some couple was snogging behind a suit of armour somewhere, Frank and Alice bonded. And then they bonded. But not that much, because they were really good kids. Frank fell more and more for Alice the longer they spent talking, talking about what they had in common (and what they were glad they didn't have in common), complaining about teachers and trading homework tips, making jokes and awkwardly flirting, and having that first kiss with trembling hands and a sweaty forehead. Damn was Frank glad he was a Prefect.
When Frank left Hogwarts, he was thrown headlong into even more schooling. This time, it was Auror training, which was like a time sponge. Oh, you thought you would have time for a date with your girlfriend after class ended? WRONG. Moody needs you to get him coffee, and, while you're out, turn in those papers, check up on the status of that guy in Mungo's who needs to be transferred to Azkaban the minute he's breathing on his own, and maybe even arrest this one that's been on the large for about six years. If you could do that, that would be great. But then, on top of all that, Frank decided to go all Mr. Extracurricular, and he and Alice were recruited by their old Headmaster to join this merry ol' band of hapless crusaders for hopeless causes, the Order of the Phoenix. They were promised trouble, and lots of it, and they were so not disappointed. By the time he finished Auror training, Frank couldn't even count the amount of times he found himself in hospital (and still Proudfoot expected him to be awake and ready to test in class).
And yet, in the middle of all this recklessness and crusading and hospital time and coffee fetching, Frank found time to be a hopeless romantic. In one of those rare lulls Frank and Alice got between one of them being forced into a hospital bed and hellish training rituals, he managed to plan a scavenger hunt of a proposal for Alice. The wedding was not during one of those nice lulls. Instead, the two eloped to France and Frank was only able to stand with the help of his best man.
Just like Hogwarts, training ended, and Frank was thrown headlong into the real world this time. The work day was long, the work week was even longer, and sometimes the stress was about ready to kill him, but his mother was proud of him, and he and Alice were happily married. If Alice wasn't more bad ass than he was, they'd be just as greeting card perfect as his family was before his brother's illness -- a fact that has plagued Frank's dreams night after night. He loves his family, from his wife to his three children, Neville (named for his brother), Carol (named for Alice's sister), and Fabian (named for one of Frank's best friends), but sometimes Frank lies awake at night waiting for everything to come crashing down, and wonders if he'll even notice when it does.
Until that point, Frank spends most of his time not being tortured to insanity or listening to David Bowie songs from the future, and collects desk ferns for his office.

* Husband not actually ruggedly handsome. He's actually kind of gawky and dorky and started balding at the age of 23.
** The people of the Longbottoms' neighbourhood were all psychic and predicted the plot of this book several years before it actually came out. Either that, or they just thought the Longbottoms were really blonde and perfect and weird and never said "Stepford Wives".
*** Pun almost never intended.

Personality;
Frank is probably one of the nicest and most loveable guys you will ever meet. He's a friendly kid who tries to find a compromise to every problem before taking any extreme and decisive action, and a severe disappointment to comic book loving teachers everywhere. It wouldn't be a very exciting trait for a superhero, but damnit is it helpful when you're both a parent and in law enforcement. It makes him open to ideas from all sides, and open to explanations from anyone and everyone involved so he can get a full idea of the situation he just kind of wandered into halfway through. He helps keep a balance in the office when things start to get too extreme and Rufus is screaming for death to all who bear the Dark Mark, forgetting that even the current Head of the Auror Department has one on his arm. All of this is because Frank has an innate sense of justice, and he doesn't want prejudice and power tripping to make the law a weapon instead of a means of protection.
He's also a bit of an optimist, though not nearly as much of one as he used to be. At the age of 18, there was nothing Frank couldn't do and there was no such thing as a truly lost cause. At almost 28, he knows there's a lot he can't do, a lot that can crop up and destroy your life, and, sometimes, he feels like there's no such thing as a cause that isn't lost. Frank's seen a lot in his years working as an Auror, and he's had illusions dashed left and right. Heroes have proven themselves to be human, either by breaking down or scaring the bajeezus out of him, the best laid plans have been blown out of the water so many fucking times, and evil has beaten good again and again and again. And again. But Frank soldiers on. An optimist he will always be, but he's no longer a naive optimist. He has experience under his belt and he knows how the world works; he's not lost his ability to see the bright side of life, it's just tempered with a dash of realism thrown in.
No matter how much trouble Frank has found himself in, trouble in which he was perfectly poised and ready to strike at any given moment, he's still easily excitable and flustered. Admittedly, this is not a very desirable trait among Aurors, but Frank doesn't get this way under your average circumstances. Go ahead, make him battle a dragon or a dark wizard or the Knights Who Say 'Ni!', you won't scare him. Brave Sir Frank won't bravely run away (away), he'll stand and fight and send the Knights Who Say 'Ni!' and the dragon and the dark wizard back where they came from without getting them a single shrubbery. Not a one! Because he is brave, and not in the ironically named Brave Sir Robin way, but in the aptly named Sir Not-Appearing-In-This-Film way! In that, "brave" is an apt adjective to apply to him, because he is brave! Very brave! Almost recklessly, Gryffindorishly so, where it seems like the common sense gene was taken out to make room for more rash decision making based on emotions (also, cupcakes). But, um, don't embarrass him. That's what does this to him. If you put a "Kick Me" sign on his back or start picking apart his report, the poised, well-spoken Frank Longbottom who just kicked the ass of that big bad guy will start sweating, and then his mind will start racing, and then he'll start second-guessing himself, and then... well you get the idea. Basically, Frank Longbottom will be reduced to nothing but a jibbering mess with wide eyes. Which serves to make Frank a little shy from time to time, just to avoid embarrassment, as well as the further embarrassment that is a fully-trained Auror falling apart because he can't answer a question.
Frank is also a very warm, sweet, caring guy. He truly cares about the fate of the world and all who inhabit it, he wants his children to know how much he loves them, and, every night, he wants to hold his wife and tell her that he loves her. He'd even cook dinner for her once in a while if she didn't own the hell out of him at that. Basically, when it comes to romantic love, Frank's hardcore about it. Remember that proposal? It was totally crazy romantic. A lot of this goes back to that optimist Frank's never gonna get rid of, sure that things will always get better for him, but a part of it is also thanks to that realist buried deep inside. That's the one who's grateful that his world has yet to completely collapse.

Fears; Embarrassment, pure and simple. He's also a bit claustrophobic, but he's worked over the years to take care of that.
Habits; He chews on his lip when thinking, and bounces his foot up and down when anxious.
Appearance; Frank's not your best looking of guys, but he's got a sort of boyish charm that makes the looks he does have work. His looks are almost deceiving, with a round face, curly, auburn hair, and wide, brown eyes that make him look as if he's seeing everything for the first time, leading everyone to the impression that he's rather naive. Standing at just 5'7" (though he'll insist he's 5'8"), and with no apparent muscles, he doesn't appear to be a very intimidating man, but Frank has a bit of a little man's syndrome at times, and after 27 years of, well, being a little man, he's found a way to look intimidating when he means business. Or maybe that's just the record he has on the job.

Romantic Status; Married.
Partner; Alice Thornton.
Sexual Preference; Straight.
Turn Ons; Sense of humor, a great laugh, intelligence, a love of fantasy, lovely eyes, creativity, and confidence.
Turn Offs; Narcissism, the inability to laugh at themselves, low self-esteem, constant complaining.

Zodiac; Expect stamina, incredible courage, intense and stormy emotions, burning idealism, and indomitable will. Gryffindor Scorpios are never drawn in shades of pastel; they are always blood red and mesmerizing gold. There are few followers born under these aspects; Scorpios born into this house tend to be either leaders or loners. They are well placed on the Quidditch field, where their natural competitive streak and their great store of personal energy make them natural Beaters (or, really, naturals at any position on the field). Expect them to get into frequent duels, and expect them to gravitate naturally to DADA, for all Scorpios are fascinated by anything dark and forbidden, and Gryffindor Scorpios will want to take their place as defenders as early in their careers as possible. Expect passion. Expect wisdom. But don't expect a lot of time to take a breather. Many people born under this aspect also end up as Aurors; they're the perfect "bad cops" to the "good cop" Libra wizards.

OOC!
Quite unfortunately, Frank Longbottom is not mine. Neither is Giovanni Ribisi, the world of Harry Potter, the zodiac, or a car with a functioning radio. As much as I would like to own any of that, Frank and the world of Harry Potter belongs to the magnificent J.K. Rowling, Giovanni Ribisi belongs to himself (as far as I know), the zodiac is from here, and that functioning radio is just out of my reach. Life is hard, aye?
Mun; Alex
PB; Giovanni Ribisi