Crumpeted

crumpeted @ 2008-07-09T15:46:00

2008-07-09T19:46:24Z

MOVED TO INSANEJOURNAL.
teakettled

#25

2008-06-23T21:32:19Z

Name: Gideon Charles Prewett
Birthdate: 4 June 1960
House: Ravenclaw
Residence: Dorchester, Dorset, England
Classes: Astronomy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology
Position: Chaser for Ravenclaw Quidditch.
Appearance: When Gideon was just a boy Molly told him that he was going to grow up to be a heartbreaker. His bright blue eyes and irresistible smile are the first thing that most people notice about him. His whole face seems to light up when he smiles and it’s hard to look at him without smiling. He keeps his blonde hair shaggy and unruly, something that his mother and sister both loathe. His extensive hours training for Quidditch have helped him maintain a muscular frame. He’ll dress himself up on special occasions but he prefers jeans and comfortable shirts.
History:
Father: Charles Prewett
Mother: Rachel Prewett (nee Bridgerton)
Siblings: Sister, Molly. Twin brother, Fabian.
Life at the Prewett home was never dull and they wouldn’t have it any other way. Richard worked in the Department of Magical Transportation at the Ministry and Rachel stayed at home and took care of the house and the children. Molly was the first born and is quite a bit older than the two boys, thus a perfect target for harassment. The Prewett brothers were forever pestering their older sister and they almost met their death a few times because of it. At the end of the day it was all in good fun and the love and warmth of the family was undeniable.

Growing up with a twin was a thrill. Gideon could never understand how other people could live without one. Gideon and Fabian were joined at the hip as children, constantly plotting and planning. Some nights they would wait until everyone was asleep and then they would sneak out of bed and just sit and talk, imagining what it was like to be out in the world as a trained wizard. Both boys had big plans for their adult life, though they tended to get a bit grand at times.

Personality: At first glance it would seem that Gideon is nothing more than the typical good looking Quidditch player. Quidditch was and still is one of Gideon’s passions but it is far from the definition of who he is. Just one conversation with the boy would reveal a bright mind and an electric personality that is infectious. You feel like you could open up to him without a second thought and you never worry that what you’ve told him might slip on to someone else.

Gideon is the exact definition of a people person. He was that kid in the store that would randomly walk up to a stranger and start talking like they’d been a family friend for years and he never grew out of it. He likes to have a good time and he’s not completely happy until everyone else around him is having a good time as well.

Gideon does have a serious side, though he very rarely shows it off. He likes people to think that he is carefree but he tends to worry. He’s very protective of the people he loves. His friends and family mean more to him than anything and he would go above and beyond for them.

RP Entry: “ Just breathe. You’re going to be fine.” Gideon Prewett’s voice was barely a whisper as he bounced his leg nervously. His grey-blue eyes scanned the walls of the room slowly, taking a few sweeps and then landing back on his hands that were folded in his lap. He was actually surprised that he was so nervous. It was just a job interview. No, it was more than that. This was a job interview in the only department in the building that made him feel like a kid in a candy store. This was the department that he had been dreaming of. The Department of Magical Games and Sports was the place where it all happened and he was going to be part of it. Well, he was going to assist the man who was part of it and that, in turn, made him a part. The logic made sense to him so he nodded to himself and stole another look at the clock on the wall. The golden snitch ticked to a new position with each second and the blond boy stared at it, allowing himself to be momentarily hypnotized by the moving gold ball.

“ Mr. Prewett?” a voice called to him. He didn’t hear it.

“ Gideon Prewett?” the meek voice tried again. Still no response from the boy.

The secretary looked over to the man next to her and he gave her a wide and toothy grin before walking up to slap his hand against the boy’s shoulder. Gideon let out a noise that was easily compared to that of a little girl which was followed by furious blushing as he tried to regain composure after jumping from his cushioned chair.

“ Mr. Bagman…I’m…I didn’t mean to scream in your face, sir,” Gideon finally managed.

“ No harm done, my boy! Care to follow me? We’ve got an interview to conduct…Unless you want more time watching the clock?” He gave Gideon the same grin he’d given the secretary and the blond wizard smiled back.

“ I’ve had my fill of the clock, sir. Lead the way,” he replied, and both men wandered down a poster clad hallway and left the clock and the secretary behind in the office.

#24

2008-06-15T14:23:59Z

Role

Name:
Remus J. Lupin

Birthdate:
March 22, 1960

House:
Gryffindor

Residence: (Where your character lives outside of school)
A lovely little home outside of Blackpool

Classes:
Potions, History of Magic, Charms, Arithmancy, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes

Positions: (Quidditch, Prefect, etc. Leave this out if it doesn't apply.)
Prefect

Appearance:
Standing at 5' 9¼" (176 cm), Remus John Lupin is, at approximately sixteen years old, a young man with medium length dusty brown hair that tends to curl and wave, especially when it's humid, framing a fairly nondescript jaw. He has warm brown eyes, which turn almost golden around the full moon, fair skin that doesn't get much sun, and a penchant for argyle and faded jumpers: some have gone so far as to suggest that he raids his grandfather's closet for his wardrobe selections, though this is largely untrue, even if his mother did buy a few of his sweater vests at an estate sale a few blocks from their home in Blackpool.

He is covered in scars of varying sizes, all of which he's fairly ashamed of, especially a pronounced scar that begins on the lower ribs of his left side that is shaped like a crescent moon. He has a sort of large nose without much shape to the tip of it and a fine, faded scar running from one cheek to the other. He doesn't have the same pronounced, striking features that James and Sirius do, and he hates to admit that he's a bit envious. Envy, he believes, is different than jealousy. Envy is when you want something that you know you can never have. He is fairly thin, sometimes sickly looking, and he doesn't have the attractive athletic look of James or Sirius. However, he has a nice, lean build, accompanied with the awkward angularity and jutting shoulder blades of a boy who grew a great deal while he wasn't paying attention.

He's relatively shy around people he's not familiar with, but he's more open and talkative with his friends. Even so, he comes off as being sweet, but introverted and introspective. His introversion has only increased with age, because there has been no one he wanted to share things with. He got used to being quiet about himself and spending long periods of time alone. This isn't to say that he can't talk to people. He's good at it, which would make him a good teacher. He knows the right things to say, he just sometimes has trouble saying them. He doesn't hate himself. He just isn't happy with himself.

History:
Blood.
Halfblood, and a halfbreed. His mother is a muggle and his father is a wizard.

Family.
Born on March 10, 1960 as the only child of John and Mary Lupin, Remus lived a happy and fairly boring life in Blackpool, Lancashire, England, where his family had lived for some time. His parents were his only surviving family beyond a few cousins who lived too far off to see very often, and he learned to entertain himself at home pretty early on, reading any books he could get his hands on. His mother, a muggle school teacher, encouraged this, borrowing stacks at a time of books from the school library for her son, who devoured them ravenously.

His father, a pureblood wizard named John Lupin, was a kind man with a receding hairline (which Remus, fortunately, did not inherit because it's X linked) and thick glasses who worked for the ministry in what Remus had always assumed was a dull, paper-pushing sort of job. However, he made an important decision during this time that drastically changed the course of Remus's life. He offended Fenrir Greyback, who in turn, bit Remus Lupin four months after his sixth birthday while the family was on holiday. His parents, especially his father, blame themselves to this day.

From then on, transformations began. He always had to be home an hour before sunset once a month just to be safe, had to stay in a basement with a new door that long, sharp nails couldn't claw through, had to have visits to a special doctor in the Dai Llewellyn Ward for serious bites, and was stuck with a mark that would follow him around for the rest of his life beginning on the lower ribs of his left side. At present, Remus does not know who the werewolf was that bit him. More notably, he has always felt a certain amount of pity for him, as he knows that a werewolf has little or no control over his actions after he has transformed. It has been his assumption that the knowledge that he bit someone when he transformed must be torturing the poor fellow, as Remus knows that it would torture him if he had been the one who bit someone, a fear that constantly assails him during sleepless nights when the full moon is nearing. (Of course, this is wasted pity, because Fenrir Greyback is a crazy bastard.)

History.
Fearing that Remus would be rejected from school because of his condition, Remus's parents worked very hard not to get his hopes up, speaking very little of the school that his father attended and downplaying the demonstrations of Remus's magical ability that popped up from time to time. However, his parents were practically tearful with joy when Remus received his Hogwarts letter from Albus Dumbledore. The special arrangements that the headmaster made allowed Remus to attend school, and he was sorted (though with some difficulty) into Gryffindor with such adorable scamps as James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. Though it was a bit of a stretch for him, Remus befriended these three, facilitating in some of their more harmless pranks (and some of the less harmless ones) and doing his best to talk them out of others.

However, he never actually planned to tell them about his lycanthropy, fearing that he would loose the only friends that he had ever really had. Despite his best efforts to keep it a secret, it was early in their second year when James, Sirius and Peter finally discovered the truth about where Remus actually disappeared to every month. Remus was pleasantly shocked when they didn't dump him on his arse right then and there. Sirius and James were actually smirking - which was worrisome enough in and of itself. But it would be three more years before Remus discovered what would be the meaning of that smirk that passed between Sirius and James.

His time at Hogwarts continued to pass fairly uneventfully... well, as uneventfully as time can pass for a werewolf and marauder. Every month, he left school to "visit a sick aunt." The transformation from human to werewolf was difficult and painful, and if isolated, the wolf become frustrated and harmed itself when unable to attack. The villagers mistook Lupin's howling as extremely violent ghosts. The house was dubbed "the Shrieking Shack" and became known as the most haunted building in Britain. Although it was not actually haunted, Dumbledore promoted this rumor to discourage curious villagers from exploring. Eventually, the old haunt would become the marauder's secret hangout.

It was shortly before the full moon in their fifth year that a declaration was made: they were officially becoming animagi. Remus gave a long-suffering look, but they seemed eager, and Remus had never been good at keeping them from doing things they really put their mind to. Initially doubtful of the legitimacy of this plan, he opted to forget about it in interest of other pursuits and in an effort to keep himself from disappointment - not only because it was highly illegal, and if he'd believed them, he would have been forced to attempt to prevent it. However, much to his surprise, where once had stood James Potter, now stood a rather majestic stag.

Sirius took to the transformations just as easily, and though his prefectly virtue told him that this was probably a bad idea, Remus was a quarter past caring. Certainly when he realized that for once in his life, he really had friends who cared about him enough to risk something this. In retrospect, he thinks that it was very selfish of him to allow them to risk that much for him, and he also feels guilty for violating Dumbledore's trust. He doesn't deserve such good friends, he thinks, and it is out of both love and gratitude that he lets them get away with so much.

However, even with several good friends who didn't seem to care about his status as a werewolf, Remus realizes that most people are not nearly as accepting as his friends are of such a condition. In light of Ministry movements, he lived through his school days with the constant concern that, once they had grown weary of marginalizing muggleborns, halfbreeds would become the ministry's new target of choice. Would the reason for his self-loathing become an object of public scorn? Remus read the paper religiously, watching the headlines for news of recent ministry resolutions that might mean the end of life as he knew it. He had tried to keep his friends from realizing the cause of his concern, but he had been known to occasionally wake up in a cold sweat from a nightmare that he'd been tagged, or that he'd been put down to prevent harm to others.

Sixth year dawned, and he and Sirius got the brilliant idea to map out the school. It would come in handy for their last two years of Maraudering, they decided. Plus, they could hand it down to some upstart mischief-makers, and may they use it wisely. Sirius, James and sometimes Peter, often explored the many hidden passageways of the castle, and pretty soon they had a comprehensive map.

It was Remus who really helped them out with making it happen, who read every book that the library had to offer on cartography and the founding of the school in the hopes that something of use would pop up. It was he who spoke to the portraits in an attempt to charm a bit of information out of them. It was he who suggested that they charm the map so you could see where anyone was at any given time, and he had a fair amount to do with the discovery of how such a thing could be done. Essentially, while the others were exploring, Remus Lupin spent several months in the library making sweet, sweet love to the logistics.

Sixth year was also the year that Remus Lupin almost killed Severus Snape. Not in the sense that James and Sirius frequently said they would do, but far more literally. Though he was not there for the inception of this prank gone wrong, his understanding was that Sirius, fed up with Snape, had tried to deter him from prying into their private lives any further by sending him to face a fully grown werewolf - where he would likely be pounded into a pulp by the whomping willow tree rather than make it through. Unfortunately, Snape is not so much stupid as he is stupid looking. He managed to bypass the willow with relative ease and little more than a black eye, and he headed down the path towards impending doom. James, however, recognizing the immanent danger of Sirius's folly, ran after Snape, barely managing to save his life just as the git opened the door of the shrieking shack, spying the dangerous werewolf that Remus had become and learning his secret.

When Remus awoke the next morning with no real knowledge of what had occurred, the situation was explained to him, and a horrible, empty feeling settled in the pit of his stomach that refused to go away for a very long time afterwards. It was a betrayal. The thought that one of his friends, Sirius Black, would do something that stupid that it put everything he held dear in a sort of terrifying limbo, was enough to make him feel ill. It was an emotion that couldn't have been mistaken for anger by anyone who knew Remus Lupin at all. It was really a sort of sickening, miserable disappointment with a side of self-loathing and a renewed sense of complete isolation. There was nothing like feeling as though your friends had simply used you as means to kill a man to make you feel good about yourself.

But it became easier to put this aside when Sirius really needed him to - the summer following that year, Sirius was driven to run away from home in order to live with James, finally having had enough of their horrible expectations, the crazy pureblood bullshit that he was expected to subscribe to, and they had all done their best to help him through the difficult transition. Though, on the other shocking side of summer events, James was made head boy.

At first convinced that this was a very elaborate joke - honestly, it was almost like making Sirius the head boy - Remus came to realize that there was a certain amount of sanity within the madness, and though he was slightly disappointed that he hadn't been made head boy, he also understood. Remus didn't really have the people skills to talk to people all the time and get them to do things or not do things, and to boss people around in the way he would have to if he were head boy. James, however, was very good at giving orders and having them followed. He was happy for him. Or, he would be, so long as he didn't start taking points from Slytherin because he was upset by Snape's nose.
.
(Can be altered to fit game canon!)

Personality:
As a child who grew up with Lycanthropy, Remus never had many friends. Holding people at an arm's length is something he had grown accustomed to, never saying more about himself than he really had to and mostly engaging in either witty banter over silly, pointless topics or intelligent discussions over broad, important topics. He harbors a certain amount of resentment towards the world for making him what he is, a werewolf, and struggles with bouts of self-loathing because of it. However, a major turning point for him was the day he found out that his three closest friends, the remaining marauders, had trained to become animagi (unregistered and highly illegal, no less), just to make his transformations easier. So he really had friends with whom he didn't share a last name, for once in his life.

He spent much of his youth alone and looking for ways to entertain himself. Remus has a strong interest in books of all sorts, especially books with fading covers, cracked binding, fragile, yellowing pages and the faint smell of old wood that every good library possesses. Essentially, he likes the classics. Extra points if the book was written before he was born. One of his favorite books, for the time being, is Pride and Prejudice. It is due in part, though he would never admit it for fear of being mercilessly teased, to a strong fondness on his part for Mr. Darcy. Though he's sure that it's entirely platonic, and perhaps more of a jealousy, since he also loves Elizabeth Bennett and their irritable banter that barely hides rapturous feelings so rarely found in life.

Some of his other favorites include The Count of Monte Cristo, The Importance of Being Earnest, Wuthering Heights, Romeo and Juliet, Les Miserables, Anna Karenina and the Lord of the Rings trilogy. He does not, however, like Dickens. Not blessed with the same blind self-confidence as many of his peers, which Remus would like to explain as some sort of chemical imbalance on their part, he is often one to avoid confrontation and assume in an argument that he is wrong, thus, he finds books much easier to deal with than people on the whole, and spends a lot of time in his familiar corner of the library. Books are also much quieter than annoying boys and much less likely to make fun of your jumper.

Remus is very smart, especially where books are concerned, but he doesn't have quite the same natural magical talent that James and Sirius seem to possess. He worked much harder for his grades, which were excellent, and often pulled his friends through at the last minute with those essential History of Magic notes, but when it came to Potions, he feels pretty hopeless. His best subjects were Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms, though last he checked, he also had one of the highest averages in his class for History of Magic. He also reads a moderate amount of Latin, though he doesn't like to talk about it, as it is the sort of thing that gets you teased until you want to hang yourself with your school tie.

Remus always put up with a lot. Surprised that he was able to find any friends at all given his condition, he does his best to hold onto them. This caused his appointment as prefect to be a bit of a conflict of interests. He didn't want to get his friends in trouble, and obviously, they deserved to be in trouble a lot of the time, but with the badge, he had to. And to be perfectly honest, he did like a certain amount of order. But even with the badge, he gives out a lot of warnings and lets small things slide with a certain defeated little noise and an exasperated eye roll, or a long-suffering sigh.

One thing Remus had always been glad of is that no one knew any real reason to hate him, and following that, no one really seems to. He is a likable person. He works very hard to be. Obviously the Slytherins weren't keen on him as a member of the infamous marauders, but they are not as mean to him as they could be. He doesn't hate anyone arbitrarily, either. Though he has developed something of a dislike for Snape, he wouldn't say he hated him, and he has a great deal of respect for his natural talent in potions, an area in which Remus floundered.

The older he has gotten, the more introspective he has grown, because he has more and more to hide and more people to hide it from. Remus holds a lot of things back and has never been able to fully share himself with other people, partly because he was just never important enough to merit an in depth discussion. His tendency to shut people out from his most private and personal life is probably one thing that would encourage rumors about his loyalty, but openness is simply difficult for him. It isn't his fault.

He does, however, open up more to his friends than those outside of his inner circle would think. Remus isn't usually the person who suggests a dangerous prank, or the person who personally charms the Slytherins' underwear pink, but when he is alone with his close friends, he won't hesitate to laugh and joke around. Though, not usually at the expense of others. Well, sometimes with Sirius at the expense of James and his never ending quest to win fair maiden's heart, but that's different. Remus is not afraid to tag along for a prank every so often, even if he would usually rather be involved in the research and development stage, and he doesn't let the opportunity for a perfect one-liner pass.

Likes.
Chocolate, most antiquated things, Charms class, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Intellectual discussions, nature (in manageable doses), Philosophers, Shakespearian lexicons, unusual words, verbosity in SOME cases, propriety much of the time, though he lets his friends get away with a lot, old fashioned letter-writing
Music: Jazz, Classical, Big Band and Swing, especially: Benny Goodman Orchestra, Bach, Beethoven, Chopin, Thelonious Monk, Glen Miller, Ella Fitzgerald, Debussy
Literature & Poetry: John Keats, Arthur Rimbaud & Paul Verlaine, 16th century literature, 17th century literature, 18th century literature, Bronte, Byron, biographies, books, Chaucer, Cicero, Dante, "Don Quixote," Dunne, Edgar Allen Poe, Catullus, Bram Stoker, Charles Baudelaire, "Emma," Ernest Hemmingway (even though he lost points in Remus' book for being a complete arse to F. Scott Fitzgerald), Fiction in general, Horace, J.D. Salinger, Jack London, Jane Austen, Louisa May Alcott, Mary Shelley, Oscar Wilde, "Pride and Prejudice," Satire, Shakespeare, Sonnets, Tennyson, The Canterbury Tales, Tolkien, Vanity Fair (the book, not the girly magazine), Vergil, Voltaire, Whitman, William Wallace, Wordsworth and William Butler Yeats.
Intellectualism, Research and Philosophy: the Age of Reason, Albert Camus, Albert Einstein, Benjamin Franklin, Bernard Mandeville, George Bernard Shaw, Francis Bacon, John Paul Sartre, Mendelian Genetics, Newton, Nietzsche (even though he probably had Syphilis and was entirely too pessimistic), Rousseau, The Enlightenment, Thomas Morgan, Thomas Paine, Thoreau (even though Emerson pushed him around) and Winston Churchill.
History (and Travel): British History, the Carolingian Empire, Catherine the Great, Denmark, Latvia, Lithuania, India, Frederick the Great, The French Revolution (largely for its historical significance), Habsburg Empire, King Louis XVI, Latvia, Medieval Europe, Napoleon, The Georgian Period, The Reformation, The Renaissance, and the classics.
Art: Thomas Gainsborough, Titian, David (the French painter, David, pronounced like Daveed), Cassatt, Degas, Renoir, Rodin, Michelangelo, Monet, Renoir, Waterhouse and the Pre-Raphaelites

Dislikes.
Dickens (who he swears writes like he is being paid by the word, or something), sand, bad chocolate (if there's such a thing), cats, insanity (most of the time), disruptiveness, impropriety, things that are loud and obnoxious, being avoided, being shunned because of what he is OR who he is, Potions, the fact that a werewolf can't get a job anywhere doing anything.

RP Entry: (Third person)

This was my first for another RP.

#23

2008-06-06T19:00:15Z

Name: Xenophilius Lovegood
Birthdate: 20 December 1960
House: Ravenclaw
Residence: family farmhouse in Hay-on-Wye, Wales
Classes: Divination, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, History of Magic, Charms
Positions: Secretary of the Charms Club, member of the Gobstones Club, (possible Quidditch commentator?)

Appearance:
Xeno had, as a small child, white-blond hair that has darkened into a warm brunette as the years pass by. He feels no inclination to take care of it or cut it. His green-grey eyes default to wide, though they narrow with virtually any expression. His face is an average oval shape with a small cleft in his chin.
Xeno has reached six feet tall but is unlikely to grow any taller; mum and dad are both a bit shorter than he is. He is narrow through the shoulders and hips and still carries an adolescent awkwardness in his frame and his walk. This gives the impression that he is smaller than he really is, to be compensated by a larger-than-life manner later in life. His hands and feet are proportionate to his body, and he is not particularly good- or bad-looking.
Xeno has no real distinguishing marks. He generally has a layer of dirt over his shoes, and his trouser hems are often a mess; his wanderings make this unavoidable. There is the usual back-pocket bulge of young men, though Xeno’s is from a reporter-style notebook and pen kept on his person at all times rather than a wallet. In his front pocket, he keeps a pocket watch made for him by his father. He prefers his clothes “with character”, which is to say hand-me-down and out of style even when they were new. He often has ink spots on his hands, forearms, and clothing; this is not something he’s worried about.

History:
Xeno was really named more for his mother than himself, not that he would ever raise a single objection to it: he would himself grow into a lover of all things strange and different. He arrived on a cloudy afternoon, a day or two behind schedule, but his was a quick and easy birth; and Glenda was thankful.
His childhood, however, proved much more difficult. While Xeno, called Xenos around the home, was capable and helpful in the farm chores, it was not unusual for his mind to wander off and Xeno to follow it. The first time this happened Xeno was all of five and had taken himself down into town, dragging a nearly empty water bucket behind him. When the baker’s wife stopped him to ask where his mum was, Xeno answered and waited politely as the baker went to get Glenda at home. Of course, Glenda was frantic by then, and she immediately dragged Xeno and his water bucket back home. She tried to keep a better eye on him, but it was about once every month or two that she had to wander the yard and look into trees, go to town and check the bookshops (every one of them), climb the hills and look for a blond head in the dingy wool of the sheep flock.
Xeno took to his family’s open-mindedness and love of letters easily. His intense natural curiosity and his absolute inability to curb it made him a talkative child full of questions. His magical ability never really manifested in an obvious way. He took an abnormal preoccupation with crypto zoology and mythologies that kept his brain active, but he seemed destined for ‘eccentric’ rather than ‘magical’.
The arrival of his Hogwarts letter was a surprise to Xeno and greater surprise to Glenda. Aldo was thrilled, having never had the opportunity to attend and having heard so much about the school. With such unchecked excitement and pride, Aldo had to come out with his wife and son about his own magical heritage. It was a tense and silent week in the Lovegood household as Glenda considered her feelings toward this new revelation from the men she had known for decades and given birth to. Xeno wandered a bit more than usual in those days until one day he returned home to dad showing mom how he could do the dishes. Business went on as usual from there.
Aldo escorted Xeno to the Hogwarts Express, and Xeno was satisfied with his placement in Ravenclaw after hearing the Sorting Hat’s song. He was a capable if eccentric first year, still prone to wandering--though the castle proved more than enough ground for his thoughts and feet--but eager to apply himself to studies. He found a great interest in History of Magic (which many of his fellow students found more indicative of his oddness than nearly anything else) and in third year happily added Care of Magical Creatures to his schedule. He is not as talented with the more precise arts, but Xeno does enjoy the trying.
In second year, Xeno started a newsletter, just front and back of a sheet of parchment with the Ravenclaw Tower news in lieu of checking the Tower bulletin board. In the next few years Xeno gained a few extra hands to create a bona fide zine covering the entire school that he dubbed the “Pettifog & Hedge”. (Of course, Xeno knows people think he’s a little strange). Though no one really looks forward to the next edition, a fair number of the pamphlets were confiscated in various classes.
So Xeno’s been well-prepared for his seventh year. He drifts in and out of social situations and isn’t too worried about what sticks and what doesn’t; he does fairly well in his gut-instinct classes and has followed them to their N.E.W.T. levels; he looks forward to leaving Hogwarts, though he has no plans to speak of.

Personality:
There are essentially three basic tenets of Xeno.
Xeno is, in a word, observant--he just takes his observations to fairly far-reaching extrapolations. He also tends to notice things, ideas, or suggestions that go undetected by the general populace. It is an understatement to say that Xeno prefers the unorthodox. Open-mindedness is a cornerstone in his family, and Xeno has touted it as a personal mantra. By virtue of this, he is naturally curious, though he offers questions where most would see no need for them.
Beyond that, he is dedicated. School holidays were prime opportunities to expand his horizons, studying muggle literature and stories or exploring the world around his home. Of course, this ridiculous single-mindedness has led to a preoccupied air that comes off as goofy and out of touch. He is sometimes acutely aware of this but mostly ignores it.
Never one to be preoccupied with conventional ideas of daily necessities, Xeno also prioritizes differently. He never carries money on his person unless planning to attend an event where it is expressly needed. He doesn’t think the symbols of status are important and gladly would never buy another article of clothing as long as he lives. As it is, he prefers to find his clothes in his father’s old closets and boxes. Time well spent is time in a book or in the field; otherwise it’s just a waste.
The one thing that gets through Xeno’s cloudy bubble of acceptance is closed-mindedness. In the future, when he’s seen how difficult it can be to continue resisting, he will merely become upset and saddened. Nowadays, however, Xeno is ready to call people out, ready to have the argument rather than walk away. He’s not specifically confrontational on any one topic but rather on any of them if the argument strikes him as narrow-minded.
Xeno is talkative on the right topic. He’s not chatty by any stretch of the imagination. He takes his work very serious, though he does not take himself seriously at all.

RP Entry:
Frowning down on his work, Xeno paused. He turned the page round until the was upside and studied it again. The layout was all wrong. The damned thing looked like a soda bottle monocle, not a magnifying glass. He would never the page charmed right. But it had to go out. Surely people were expecting it, so he sighed, rubbed his bleary eyes, and leaned back over the parchment to brainstorm.

He jumped at the throat clearing behind him and stared blankly at Madam Pince when she reminded him the library would close in ten minutes. Madam Pince looked rather indecisive about something but left without much more explanation. Bother. Maybe he would find better help in the Tower. Instead of heading up, though, Xeno resumed the position hunched over his badly charmed parchment. This would never do. What was so wonky about it? He had been staring too long, but he continued to do so.

Madam Pince was shooing him away before he knew it, and Xenophilius took himself, his bag, and his parchment around the corner to perch in a nook near a large torch. He didn’t realize how long he sat until another step of footsteps echoed at the far end of the corridor. In a smooth practiced he pulled out his watch. He had not realized it was this late. And now a prefect to come and interrupt his thoughts. Xeno hurried to collect his things, to get moving before the voice broke the fragile thought trains and processes--but to no avail. The voice rang out, echoing like the footsteps had before it, and Xeno turned in place to stare down its owner.

#22

2008-05-31T02:30:37Z

Name: Edgar William Bones
Birthdate: 23 September 1959
House: Hufflepuff
Residence: Oxford, Oxfordshire, England
Classes: Ancient Runes, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Muggle Studies, Potions, Transfiguration

Appearance: At first glance, Edgar is far from an imposing figure. He's on the short side and slight of build, and it's easy to interpret his dark-rimmed, heavy-lidded eyes as evidence of a sluggish nature. However, he carries himself with a practiced confidence: he doesn't slouch, he walks along at a quick, firm pace, and he always looks people in the eye. He would rather avoid the question of whether he's attractive, but even if his facial features tend to be pointy, he's happy enough that everything is in its right place. Both his hair and his eyes have changed color since childhood: the blond hair he was born with has darkened to an unassuming shade of brown, and his hazel eyes have settled into dark brown. Edgar's dress style is clean-cut, calm, and conservative. He has fairly good grooming habits--he probably shouldn't publicly admit how much time he devotes to his hair every morning--and he takes excellent care of his clothing.

History: There are two notable facts about Edgar's birth. First, he was born only ten months before his sister, Amelia. Thus, while the two have always been close and have grown up as constant companions, Edgar has, from a young age, focused on the fact that he was older, and that gave him the right to boss around his sister. Sometimes. When she let him.

The second notable fact is that Edgar was born with profound hearing loss in his left ear, though this wasn't discovered until he was nearly three years old. His parents, Richard and Josephine, took to the task of helping him adapt to his condition, and they came up with plenty of strategies to ensure their youngest son wasn't left out of anything: from an early age, Edgar learned to pay attention to body language and picked up on some lip reading in order to help him better contextualize everything he did hear.

His childhood was an overwhelmingly pleasant one. He split his time fairly equally between somewhat quiet indoor activities and running around wild outdoors. He loved stories even before he could read, and once he could read things for himself, he tore through any book with an engaging story. Being the middle child, he did sometimes find himself overlooked in favor of his siblings, but he knew how to demand attention for himself if he wanted it. The words "I can do it MYSELF" came out of his mouth at least once a day: even as a child, Edgar was stubbornly insistent on doing things for himself, and he tried terribly to be helpful and independent, even though the consequences could be disastrous. Example: the time he accidentally flooded the kitchen after trying to fix the stopped sink.

Hogwarts required some adjustments on Edgar's part. He was wary of the idea of having to live away from home, and the possibility of being separated from his sister was an even worse thought. He was terrified enough to literally demand that the Sorting Hat place him in Hufflepuff with Amelia--although he claimed it was so that he could look after her. It took him a while to warm up to his housemates and schoolmates, but once he did, he proved to be a loyal, enthusiastic friend. Academics were a more difficult obstacle: while certainly smart, he preferred hands-on practice to lectures and theory, and he coasted by on his good memory and sheer talent than actual hard work. Textbooks often went unread (there was no coherent plot to History of Magic, Edgar was disappointed to find out), homework was hurriedly finished at last minute, but he paid close attention when he was interested in the subject (Transfiguration, DADA, Muggle Studies).

Shortly before Edgar started his fifth year at Hogwarts, his parents were killed in an attack by bloodline fanatics, believed to be orchestrated by a man called Voldemort. Though pureblooded, Richard and Josephine weren't blood purists, and if anything, they cultivated in their children a sense of respect for and curiosity about Muggles. Edgar was aware of Muggle persecution, as well as the general pureblood elitist attitude, and he remembers well the infamous childhood incident where his sister threw a tantrum in front of some prejudiced acquaintances, but until tragedy hit, he hadn't understood how serious the issue was. So his parents' deaths knocked his world off its axis, in more ways than one. He took their deaths hard, spending the following school year wallowing in his anger, sadness, and frustration. He was especially frustrated by the lack of justice for his family, and his inability to do something, do anything, to make things right.

His sister threw herself into her schoolwork, but Edgar took the opposite approach, letting all academics fall to the wayside as he sulked and grieved. It took some prodding by his Head of House to get Edgar to focus on schoolwork and not fail all his classes, and somehow, he managed to secure decent enough scores on his OWLs, at least in the subjects he enjoyed. As more time went on, his grief and anger no longer consumed him, though the emotions still remained. He's taking his seventh year for what it is: the last year before he has to throw himself into the "real world." He's determined to enjoy it. He doesn't have a definite idea of what he wants to do after leaving school, but he does know he wants to work toward justice for his parents, and justice for Muggles and other non-purebloods.

Personality: The typical first impression of Edgar is that he's polite, but quite reserved and serious. He's just not the most open person, and he takes a while to warm up to others. Being half-deaf, his tendency to hang back allows him to focus on collecting details, soaking in external and environmental clues, and following non-verbal communication very well. He's a lot more perceptive than people might initially give him credit for. Once Edgar feels comfortable enough with someone, he'll have little trouble engaging in enthusiastic conversations, and though he's not particularly playful, he does have a dry, wry, and often self-deprecating sense of humor. As broody as he can be, he's not quite as uptight or self-absorbed as one might first believe he is.

Chief among Edgar's personality traits is practiced confidence. He belongs to the "fake it 'til you make it" school of thought, and he deals with his self-doubt, fears, and insecurities by ignoring their existence. The truth is that underneath his surefootedness is a sheer terror of failure: Edgar's instincts just have him running toward the source of his terror, not away from it. He's action-oriented, and he feels anxious when faced with a problem without a clear solution for him to be working on. He needs to feel like he's being constructive. He's exceptionally stubborn, and he has a terrible time trying to be patient and let things run their own course. He's not very good at leaving things be. Transfiguration is his best subject, likely because of his innate drive to control, shape, and change the very nature of things. He's more than willing to step up and be a leader, and given a little permission (or not), he's perfectly content bossing people around. He can be a know-it-all at times, but he tries to curb any show-off tendencies.

While Edgar might have made a good Gryffindor, he's still an excellent fit for Hufflepuff. He's committed, dedicated, and loyal. As respectful as he is, Edgar cares more about fairness and empathy than any strict adherence to rules. He's not afraid to question authority, particularly when he's concerned about what's fair. He's drawn to and respects people who respect others, who genuinely listen and care. He likes--and thrives on--the sense of belonging and teamwork that's prevalent in his house.

Edgar resents (usually with some embarrassment) any special treatment or attention for his hearing loss. Not knowing what it's like to experience life in stereo sound, and having adapted and compensated in his own way, he doesn't see his condition as the disability that other people might assume it is. In classrooms, he'll position himself so that he can rely on his good ear to hear the teacher, but he's reluctant to sit in the front row, even when he should. Sitting in the front row would just be uncool. He has a hard time in noisy, crowded situations: being monaural, he can't easily exclude background noise. He'll duck out of loud parties; he tries to take his meals as early as possible, before the Great Hall gets too crowded, and he picks his seat to avoid having someone sitting on his deaf side; and he only attends Quidditch games to support his sister. He denies that he's embarrassed or inconvenienced by his hearing loss, but that's one of his stubborn "fake it 'til you make it" convictions. He doesn't exactly hide his condition, but he doesn't draw undue attention to it. His housemates surely are familiar with it, as are any other friends, as at one point or another, he'll probably have had to ask them to not talk to him from his left side, or he's apologized for not answering them if they've called out to him across a noisy corridor.

For fun, Edgar is into Muggle detective novels. He's a fan of Arthur Conan Doyle, Wilkie Collins, and Agatha Christie, but his favorites are Dorothy L. Sayers' Lord Peter Wimsey novels. He doesn't get all the Muggle references, but he likes the humor and the plots. He follows professional Quidditch, listening to professional matches on the WWN and cheering on the Appleby Arrows, but he's not that interested in Hogwarts Quidditch beyond supporting Amelia. Muggleborn friends have also got him interested in Muggle football, although he hasn't actually ever seen a match. He has a rather nice wizarding chess set, but he tends to lose as many games as he wins; thinking of and following long-term strategy has never been Edgar's strong point. He's actually a far better at, and has more fun playing, Exploding Snaps than chess.

He's interested in girls, and he has a modest and not-so-serious dating history, but he's in the habit of being wary of any girl who actually likes him. He doesn't know why they would choose to like him. At the same time, he's also wary of any guy that might like Amelia: he's convinced they're just trying to take advantage of his far-too-nice sister. Speaking of his sister, Amelia's one of his closest friends, and she knows him better than anyone else ever has. While the two are more than capable of driving each other crazy, he's willing to depend on her more than he depends on anyone else--though, of course, he wouldn't admit that. And after all these years being her (slightly) older brother, watching out for Amelia is second nature for him. He has no qualms pushing and challenging her if she seems to need it, and he's her biggest supporter, full stop.

RP Entry: Right after dawn was Edgar's favorite time at Hogwarts. Calling him a morning person would be an understatement: the quiet calm of the early hours just so happened to energize him--make him obnoxiously giddy, some might say--nearly every morning without fail. Sure, by lunchtime, he'd inevitably be drained of that bouncy enthusiasm and he'd spend the rest of the day feeling tired and cranky, but for those morning hours, at least, Edgar was ready to take on the world.

This particular morning, his stride was verging embarrassingly close to skipping as he passed through the common room. The familiar sounds of other students waking up and getting ready for the day--probably far more reluctantly than Edgar--were comforting, and he paused a moment to fully appreciate the temporary peace.

The downside to peace, though, was that it could be very boring, and Edgar was in far too good of a mood to spend this time by himself. He'd have to wait for someone else to wander down to the commons and persuade them to go to breakfast with him, and if he had to resort to a strategy of pounce-and-drag, he would.

Edgar knew how to wait one way, and one way only: impatiently. Within seconds, he was rocking back and forth on his heels and fidgeting with the collar of his school robes, the heavy garment still feeling a bit itchy and uncomfortable after a summer's worth of disuse. He stifled the urge to check his hair, but he when he felt through the floorboards the subtle vibrations of someone heading into the common room, he hurriedly ran a hand through his hair and tried desperately to look casual, as if he hadn't been waiting for someone--anyone--to join him.

#21

2008-05-26T13:17:48Z

Name:
Evan Gabriel Rosier.
Birthdate:
July 29th, 1960.
House:
Slytherin; seventh-year Slytherin prefect, if possible.
Residence: (Where your character lives outside of school)
Three things make a Rosier: (1) a ridiculous sense of one's own importance; (2) faith in the Catholic God and a subsequent appreciation for the works of Evelyn Waugh; and (3) the archetypal English country house. The Rosier home lies in in Oxfordshire, and it's the kind of place the National Trust salivates over and brings lines from Brideshead Revisited to the tips of visitors' tongues. (Yes, there is a chapel.) In truth, it is an impressive estate, although there is some decay around the edges; still, it's a grand, imposing fortress of a home, a fitting symbol of the Rosiers' legacy and permanence in society. (No, there aren't any phallic symbols about; why do you ask?) Evan, for his part, finds the whole thing rather archaic and dull, although that hasn't kept him from enjoying the shocked looks on classmates' faces when he invites them over, nevermind the ability to hide from his parents in the labyrinthine system of rooms.

Classes:
OWLs: Arithmancy [O], Ancient Runes [O], Astronomy [E], Charms [O], Defence Against the Dark Arts [O], Herbology [A], History of Magic [O], Potions [O], Transfiguration [O].
NEWTs: Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Transfiguration.

Appearance:
Petulant might be a good summation of Evan Rosier's looks, as despite leaving puberty a few years ago, he still has a tendency to pout childishly when denied his way, which is to say most of the time. Despite being not entirely bad looking, Evan's prone to rather ugly expressions --- the cool indifference and arrogance that so rarely leaves his face, the way he has of setting his jaw when serious --- which is what makes his ploys at sincerity (and the rare moments in which he's able to arrange his features into some facsimile of such) so surprising. (That, and the fact that when he tries for such a look, he manages to appear rather Bambish, suddenly the image of a twelve-year-old again.) Still, there's hope he'll grow into his face: his features are interesting, if nothing else --- a long face without particularly harsh angles; a small, full mouth; large, deep-set eyes of a rather vivid shade of blue; and a nose that can only be called unfortunate. His dark hair is typically worn long in the front, spilling over an expansive brow and nearly dipping into his eyes, and it tends to seem unkempt, if not, at times, greasy.

At seventeen, Evan's finally achieved something in the way of height --- his first growth spurt the summer before third year left at a comparatively paltry 5'8", but, slowly and steadily, he's finally added another three inches to his height, leaving him at just over six feet tall. Not that height has made him a frightening figure: Evan is what would charitably be called lanky and what's in truth just skinny; he has long, thin limbs that recall nothing so much as a spider, the only saving grace being Evan's preternatural grace --- what he lacks in bulk, he makes up for in elegance, and some very well-cut clothes. That being said, were he to skip a daily bath and turn up on the streets in an old shirt, some ill-fitting trousers, and scuffed trainers, he'd look every bit the geek; there but for the grace of Madam Malkin and years of lessons from his parents goes Evan.

History:
Once, a long time ago, the Rosiers were a family of upper-class French wizards --- the kind of family the produced members of the International Confederation of Wizards, an occasional Minister for Magic, and one of the least popular Beauxbatons headmistresses. They were also of relatively poor blood quality, with a Muggle corps as prosperous as the wizarding, much to their considerable displeasure. After several centuries of languishing at the bottom of the league tables for Pureblood nobility, one of the more industrious branches of the family pulled up stakes and moved to England, figuring that a reinvention was necessary. For the most part, the gamble worked: the Rosiers in England quickly established themselves as an integral part of Pureblood society, happily hexing over their history and pruning the family tree into something that resembled the ideal. Within a few generations of arriving in England, they were considered to be as Pureblooded as the next major family, and there's not been a complaint since. Money, certainly, has gone a long way toward improving the Rosiers' legacy: whom they couldn't make disappear, lie or explain away, or simply eliminate, the Rosiers were happy to bribe out of the family. This is, perhaps, why the first Rosier to attend Hogwarts was sorted into Slytherin, along with almost every other: it's in the blood, although not its purity.

Thanks to all of this history, then, by the time Josiah Rosier came of age, he was firmly entrenched in wizarding society. With good standing and enough of the family legacy in the bank to ensure a comfortable lifestyle, he set about making a good public reputation for himself through an old Rosier trick --- public service. He quickly entered the wizarding diplomatic corps upon leaving Hogwarts, joining the Department of International Magical Cooperation, serving as an aide to a member of the International Confederation of Wizards before becoming an aide to the British wizarding ambassador in Germany. It was through this post that he met his wife: Sophie Fenner, a talented English witch of German ancestry (and a considerable amount of pride in such). The two were married within a year of meeting --- about the time it took Josiah to move from "vaguely competent" in German to the level of "hey, I know what you're saying about me" --- and quickly established residence in Berlin. When the then-ambassador to Germany was recalled to Britain and promoted to aide to the Minister two years later, Josiah took his place; a short time after, Evan was born.

Even, then, grew up in a politically active household, and in a household more than certain of its importance in the world. In that sense, then, it was certainly an interesting childhood, and given his father's position and the amount of travel it entailed, Evan was possibly the one student in his year to find Hogwarts a bit of a letdown ("meh" was his assessment; I've seen more interesting castles). That being said, it wasn't nearly as interesting a childhood as he'd like others to believe --- his father may be important politically, but Evan-the-toddler was far from it, and he spent the majority of his childhood being minded by wizarding tutors while his mother organised social events and his father, well, worked. About the only practical advantage from his childhood was a head-start in terms of languages: Evan picked up German early, becoming effectively bilingual by necessity and convention, while his parents also had him study French, apparently under the impression that he should prepare for Hogwarts the same as he would for Eton.

At the age of eight, the family returned to England, Josiah now a delegate to the International Confederation of Wizards; Sophie and Evan mostly remained in Oxfordshire, where Sophie went back to the business of keeping the Rosier name linked to charitable acts, while Josiah worked from the Ministry, occasionally allowing Evan to come along for Confederation conferences, summits, etc. By the time Evan started Hogwarts, then, he had been spoiled rotten, was almost entirely unused to the company of other human beings his age, and a first-class prat. He, of course, was blissfully unaware of this, and felt he had a happy, normal childhood --- he was more or less given anything he wanted (within reason), he always had access to tutors and books to satiate any passing academic curiosity, he was a confirmed wizard by the age of six and great things were predicted for him (granted, those things were predicted by his mother, who had barely managed an 'Acceptable' in Divination), and nothing traumatic had ever happened to him. Hogwarts was just the next step in --- well, whatever it was he was supposed to do until he people appointed him King of the World.

To no one's surprise, then, he was sorted into Slytherin immediately. To everyone's surprise, however, Hogwarts agreed with Evan: it took him time to figure out how to relate to people his age, but he eventually made something like a friend in Jeremiah Wilkes. Classes were always relatively easy, given his pre-Hogwarts schooling and his parents' willingness to hire tutors during the summer to expand his education; in consequence, he never had much to fear academically, and quickly established a reputation as a 'keener.' Given his feelings toward broomsticks (get that thing away from me before I cram it up your---), he was never going to be the more athletic type; he escaped lightly, all things considered. Indeed, his tenure at Hogwarts can mostly be characterised by a studious refusal to draw much attention to himself, as, for the most part, Evan's slid by as that kid who takes ridiculous notes. He was appointed a Prefect in his fifth year, partly as he was the least of only bad options and partly because, well, he'd kind of earned it. In his style, Evan was delighted by the news --- there's nothing he likes more than being better than someone else, after all --- and the chance to abuse his power; he hasn't gone overboard as of yet, but with war on the horizon and allegiances being declared, who knows what will happen next.

Personality:
Evan Rosier would like to be an enigma wrapped in a mystery, but the blunt truth is that he's simply an asshole wrapped in some decent manners. Make no mistake: he is an asshole, and, yes, he knows it. Behind closed doors, he is petulant, sulky, whiny, more than a bit bratty, and hilariously immature; it's possible he's uninvited Jeremiah Wilkes from his birthday party and meant it as a serious threat. When he drops the act and all his graces, Evan's the archetypal only child/spoiled brat, unkind even to those whom he calls friends --- This is the last time I let you plan anything, God, you're stupid is not an uncommon refrain when things go wrong. (That this is delivered in a whine that would make a five-year-old blush does not help.) That being said, the childishness is more harmless white noise than anything else: Evan likes to talk, and Evan likes the sound of his own voice, and, as such, he sees nothing wrong with having a good moan when those around him fail to live up to his (ridiculously high) expectations. When this vitriol is turned on the world, certain other students (James Potter, Sirius Black), politicians, historical figures, or just passing clouds, he's almost amusing, at least to those of a similarly pessimistic, nihilistic, narcissistic mindset.

Evan, at any rate, certainly has that mindset, along with delusions of grandeur that deserve to be studied and put as a case study in a psychology textbook. He is, for better or for worse, not entirely stupid, but, more than that, he's also interested in certain subjects, not so much for marks but for his personal edification. That these subjects are all clustered around military theory, history, and political theory is the troubling part as well as rather telling --- Evan wants to rule the world, and, failing that, to leave his mark on it. Consequently, he plays up his academic success and reputation, and has made a small name for himself at Hogwarts by being 'bright': besides being a good reputation to hold, it gives him a chance to lord his power over others. (Sure, he'll help you revise, but not for your sake: he likes the fact that people come to him for help; it's a small high.) It's also his best chance at gaining power and fame: Evan knows he has no hope of becoming a wizarding superhero like Alastor Moody, but he can plan the strategies to take someone like that down --- and, hey, that ought to make him a legend.

Surprisingly, for all of this, Evan is usually capable of making a decent first (and even second) impression. Indeed, the face Evan presents to the world is often at odds with the bratty, spoiled child demanding power; Even has a fair amount of impulse control, care of his upbringing, and he knows enough to keep his mouth shut, smile politely, nod, and inquire after the health of those he cares nothing about --- as much as he can, he tends to try to present himself as polite, studious, and almost quiet; he tends to spend his weekends in the library, revising and writing, although not for the courses he's enrolled in. The streams of insults can be saved for the few he trusts enough not to share, or those so equally depraved that he has equally damaging kompromat on them. As such, he's the model of a charmless man: he does well socially, chalking up some of his reticence to shyness instead of the real reason (i.e., I can't think of an insult stupid enough for you); only those who've actually heard Evan talk about others and himself would realise that, at heart, he's soulless (despite the years of weekly mass and feigned faith), an intellect without a conscience, and a young man absolutely intent on gaining power by whatever means necessary. What's scary is that so far he's been fairly successful: a member of the Slug Club, a Hogwarts Prefect, and his pick of careers after Hogwarts --- it's impossible to estimate the amount of damage he could cause.

(Good thing he dies young, then.)

RP Entry: (Third person)

It was a Saturday night at Hogwarts, and as there had been a Quidditch game that afternoon (someone won, someone lost, someone went to the hospital clutching his nose --- that was about as much as Evan knew and cared to know), the library was deserted. Most of the good little boys and girls were safely in their common rooms, celebrating victory or mourning loss, and Evan could only assume the Slytherins were doing the same. He'd left the sixth-year Prefects in charge, claiming that he was going to patrol dangerous areas, and as he hadn't heard any ominous noises, he hadn't felt any need to go back and check to see whether or not Wilkes had finally taken revenge on Snape for his deprecating remarks about Quidditch.

Indeed, Evan wasn't even thinking about his housemates; instead, he was toying with several documents absolutely unrelated to his classes, including a German account of the bombing of Hamburg he'd requested his father send him. He had the same look he always had while translating: vaguely dazed, mouth open a bit and bottom lip thrust out in a babyish pout, one hand cupping his chin as the other scratched a quill against parchment.

Lost in his own world, Evan had every intention of leaving his housemates to cannibalize each other and of returning in the morning to deal with the carnage, which was why, even as the clock warned the hour, he made no move to pack up his things.

#20

2008-05-25T22:45:28Z

(Check bold for changes.)

Name: Dorcas Tearza Meadowes
Birthdate: 1 May 1960
House: Gryffindor
Residence: Currently with her Mammy and Pap, her Da's parents, and her older twin brothers, while her parents were still in the pro leagues. It's a large stone farm house on the outskirts of Connacht. They started off a poor but very large Irish family, but with the careers of both her parents, the financial situation in their home (including the huts where her cousins live on property) is evening out.
Classes: 7th Year Classes- Charms (OWL=O), DADA (OWL=E), Potions (OWL=A), Transfiguration (OWL=E), CoMC (OWL=O), Ancient Runes (OWL=A)
Dropped Classes- Astronomy (OWL=P), Herbology (OWL=E)

Appearance:
Tomboy is probably an understatement here. Dorcas hasn't worn or owned a dress since she was three. She very likely never will if it isn't Order related. She dresses mostly for comfort: muggle sweatpants, windbreakers (tear-aways), or shorts. Despite detentions, she's always worn tennies (unless she's on the field and needs cleets). Only tennies. So much so that eventually the professors gave up fighting her on it. And if she can get away with it, she wears just a sports bra, if not it's tanktops or tshirts.

Her hair was kept in a single long braid or a ponytail until the middle of fourth year. One day after Quidditch practice Sirius said she would look like a pretty girl if she ever left it down. Dor whipped out her wand right then and there, chopped it off, and threw it at him. Now the length fluctuates but rarely gets longer than her jawline and never longer than her shoulders. It's never brushed, but she's picky about hygiene so it's always washed. Her face is always clean and also clear since she has never worn make-up in her life. And, of course, her complexion is a nice even tan since she's always outside. However, she's often covered in cuts and bruises.

History:
Dorcas was born the 3rd child to a fullblood professional Quidditch player and a muggle professional football player. Brighton Meadows met Ceara Devon the year that each was drafted. A muggleborn teammate from the Kenmare Kestrals (who Brighton was drafted as 1st string keeper for) took Brighton to a professional woman's football game. The moment he saw Ceara, he knew he had to have her. It only took a few months of chasing and then nine months later Andre and Andrew Meadows came screaming into Ireland. And despite their hectic game schedules, Brighton and Ceara married before the boys were born and barely a year after that, Dorcas Tearza Meadows entered the world.

Dorcas, Dre & Drew were raised by Brighton's parents. He and Ceara traveled a lot with their respective careers and her parents still don't know he or the children are wizards. Mammy was a pureblood and Paps is muggleborn, but neither tried to turn Dor into a proper young lady. And she was anything but. She learned at an early age how to kick her brother's arses. Until they got their first brooms, the three of them were avid football players. Dor and her brothers played in kiddie leagues, both football and quidditch, until they got to Hogwarts. And on more than one occasion their Irish tempers got them kicked out. Especially Dor's. Mostly because she hated being called a girl.

That attitude stuck with her in Hogwarts. She tried to get onto the quidditch team her first year with a little trouble and a few threats, but no one really gets on their first year, so she was only upset about it, really, until April or so. And it was pretty much a breeze for her to get on second year, she had the natural talent thanks to her parents and the sheer determination that her teammates seemed to respect (her brothers didn't make it until the following year). But Dor realized early on that the boys of her year (especially the quidditch team ones) had their own little club, No Girls Allowed! It irritated her to no end, and of course she wouldn't stand for being so outed like that. So she befriended, begrudgingly, Lily Evans and one or two girls from her own house and year, who seemed at least tolerable for girls. Sometimes they nagged her about being more lady-like, but for the most part they (Lily really) seemed to accept her for who she was, and that was actually pretty much a big relief for Dorcas. And though she and Lily got friendly, Quidditch turned out to be an easier way to make friends she actually had things in common with. Dor remained mostly a loner, though. She never talked to girls willingly, except Lily. And her only close friends were her brothers and, in later years, Sirius. Though she ended up taking a slightly protective stance on Remus and Peter as the years went on.

Dor also began to develop feelings for Siri, though she'd never admit it. Relationships are too girly for her. The way things work with her and Siri usually involves a hell of a lot of violence. They take out their anger on each other, fighting in the all out fist fight, kick the hell out of each other, fight club everyone walks away bloody kind of fights. And that calms her anger and relieves sexual tension for the most part. But there really hasn't been much time for that lately.

Dor is set to be drafted second string chaser for the Kenmare Kestrals (her brothers are 2nd string beaters) and already being looked at for the Irish Nationals, directly out of school. Quidditch is her life. When she has time apart from that, she likes to mess with cars & motorbikes (mostly foreign made) in an old barn at home. Other than that, she's just trying to get through the last year she is forced into school and away from the war. Her Mum's a muggle and she loves football, so it's only natural she's against Voldemort. She's violent, forward, and impulsive. Not the best materials to save the world, but she plans on at least trying to join the fight as soon as she can.

Personality:
Dorcas is more a tomboy than anything. She plays in the mud. She ignores her feelings. She acts without thinking. Her idea of dealing with things is to start a brawl and bloody herself up. Nothing is a big deal when your mouth is full of blood, you're so sore you can't move, and the other guy is worse off. And don't dare call her a girl. Nothing will get you hit faster. Dor is impulsive above all else. She jumps blindly both feet into things. She's often told that one day it'll get her killed. But Dorcas is also very loyal and very strongly believes in equality. Mostly because she was raised with a women's lib perspective (thanks to a pro-sports mum) and now applies it to equality between bloods.

Modesty has never been a trait of Dor's. She'll change in the boys' locker room with out flinching. She's mostly flat chested and figures they aren't attracted to her anyway. And she swears she couldn't care less. Dor has never dated and doesn't plan to. If by chance she meets a guy who understands her and finds her attractive too, she'll consider it. But until then the first bloke that watches her change in the locker room gets his ass kicked... and she'll probably do it naked without a single thought. She doesn't hesitate to negotiate with her fists, but never holds her tongue either. She's got the only record not held by a Slytherin for most fouls in Hogwarts Quidditch and a verbal assault record to match in Filch's cabinet.

Dor's main strength is her fierce Gryffindor loyalty. And of course her sense of true justice and equality. Were she not so hot tempered and impulsive her ideals would have put her in Hufflepuff. But Dor has a mean right hook and the right attitude to freely use it. Her temper is her second biggest weakness or flaw. First and foremost, Dorcas' pride is her worst downfall. She's happy with herself the way she is and gets highly offended when other people aren't. Few things set her temper off quicker than a shot to her pride.

RP Entry:
Sitting alone in the Gryffindor changing room, Dorcas nursed a broken wrist and a bruised ego. She was too full of pride to admit to Pomfrey that she'd swan dived 50 metres across the pitch. The new nurse would probably just ramble girly nonsense about how Dorcas shouldn't play like a bloke because she was too pretty to get all dirty. Then Dor would get detention for telling the mental bird off. So it was better to just try and mend herself... as dangerous as that was.

How hard could it be to fix a broken bone anyway? She knew Ravenclaws in her year who could do it. And she'd had so many broken bones that she had certainly seen it enough. It was just a matter of using her non-dominant hand and focusing through the pain. Then no one would know she'd even crashed. No harm done. Or so she thought.

"Nice landing, Dorky."

Jerking her head up mid-swish, Dorcas flicked herself in the wrist with her wand. Yelping, Dorcas turned to glare at the invading and rather sarcastic culprit. Though she knew it was Siri before she turned around. No one else was as rude to her, though she knew he was just doing it to take the mickey. And no one else ever got away with calling her Dorky. She'd just broken his nose enough that she figured she could let it slide a few times.

"Don't see you tryin anythin new on tha pitch," she retorted, her accent always twice as thick when she was in pain. And of course attempting to heal herself was out of the question now that Sirius had obviously seen her crash. So Dor just summoned an ice pack. And despite her best efforts she couldn't stop herself from flinching when she set it gently on her wrist. "'Sides, if the Broadmoors kin, Aye kin. What 'ave they got tha' Aye ain'?"

#19

2008-05-25T00:19:06Z

Name: Guinevere “Guinny” Marie Fawcett
Birthdate: 7 May 1960
House: Ravenclaw
Residence: Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, England in Fawcett Cottage, a residence that has been in the wizarding Fawcett family for generations and passed down traditionally to the eldest son.
Classes: N.E.W.T. Levels in Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, DADA, and Transfiguration

Appearance:
Guinny is exceptionally tall, standing at 5’9.” She’s mostly legs and arms, and thus considers herself to be an “awkwardly lanky mess.” Due to her odd proportion of appendages, Guinny tends to carry herself in a self-conscious manner. With care and practice during her “awkward phase” during second and third year, Guinny’s learned to have good posture and refrain from being too clumsy—but she’s the embodiment of gauche when she’s tired or upset.

She has shoulder length chestnut hair, which has a naturally loose curl, and which Guinny will occasionally charm to wear as straight on special occasions. Guinny prefers the naturalesque look. She most often wears her hair down, and, if she decides to accent it, does so only with a simple headscarf.

What Guinny lacks in grace of stature, she makes up for in a pleasing, ethereal face. Guinny was rather plain as a child, and was often said to resemble her brothers and father much more than her mother, but, during her fourth year at Hogwarts, that ever-coveted wand of Youthful Bloom gave Guinny’s features a tap and blessed her with a much matured face. Guinny’s pale skin is set off by naturally rosy cheeks, a generous helping of freckles, intelligent green eyes, and a small but sharp mouth. Guinny’s most defining characteristic is a childish, slightly upturned nose that gives her an impish air.

Guinny’s wardrobe might best be described as whimsical-meets-flower-child. Guinny enjoys charming and sewing her own clothes, and generally opts for soft pastel colors, such as periwinkle, cyan, and powder blue. Depending on her mood, Guinny will either don simple combinations of solids, stripes, and polka dots or opt for a feminine touch of floral or paisley. Guinny prefers being out of her Hogwarts robes as much as possible, and has been reprimanded on more than one occasion for wearing her cherished Muggle clothing on inappropriate occasions.

History:
Guinny is the youngest of four children born to her Wizard father and Muggle mother in the quaint village of Ottery St. Catchpole. An unexpected pregnancy, Guinny came into the life of her aging parents nearly ten years after their previous child. Mrs. Francesca Fawcett was tickled pink upon the birth of her only baby girl; as much love as she had bestowed upon her three sons, Francesca had always longed for a little girl to be her dress-up doll and confidant. Needless to say, Guinny was doted on by her mother from the moment she emerged from the womb—even more so when Mr. Edwin Fawcett, an Unspeakable at the Ministry of Magic, died tragically due to an unexplained incident in the Department of Mysteries.

Guinny was seven years old at the time of her father’s death; her youngest brother, William, made the decision to support his mother and sister upon his graduation from Hogwarts by staying on at Fawcett Cottage and working in the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry of Magic. Guinny’s second older brother, Oliver, is a squib, and works in London as a journalist for the Times. The eldest of the Fawcett boys, Frank, works as an auror in St. Andrews, Scotland and recently married fellow auror Rilla McWhorter. The Fawcett family is a very close-knit one; the two older Fawcett boys visit home regularly and often send financial support to the rest of the household, who have lived in reduced circumstances since the death of Edwin Fawcett. Guinny is especially close to her mum, who nurtured and doted on Guinny as a child, and, as time progressed, grew to be Guinny’s closest friend and confidant.

When Guinny received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, her initial reaction was one of fear and uncertainty. Guinny was most accustomed to a relatively Muggle way of life with her mother, and, though assured and prepped by her brother William, it was with much trepidation that Guinny first set foot on the Hogwarts Express. Her first few weeks at Hogwarts turned out to be very trying ones. The sorting ceremony frightened Guinny out of her wits, even more so when she found herself placed in Ravenclaw. Both of Guinny’s wizard brothers had been Hufflepuffs through and through, and Guinny had assumed that she too would be placed in her siblings’ house.

What followed for the next weeks of Guinny’s time at Hogwarts was a period of alienation and homesickness. She wrote home to her mother religiously, and spent her free time cooped up in Ravenclaw Tower, absorbed in her studies and afraid that she would hardly live up the academic expectations of Ravenclaw. It was only on an early September day, after Charms class, that Guinny began to enjoy her time at school. This was owing to the kindly influence of Professor Flitwick, who, after observing Guinny’s keen work ethic but self-imposed isolation, took the time to remind Guinny that her own father had been a “rather pensive Ravenclaw” like herself—but eventually became one of Flitwick’s closest friends during his schooling at Hogwarts. Flitwick observed that Guinny had inherited her father’s brains and wizarding talent, but also, unfortunately, his “ridiculous tendency to over-analyze.” Encouraged by Flitwick to become less anxious about her studies and more amiable around her peers, Guinny followed his advice and soon found that life at Hogwarts could be enjoyable—in fact, after a year at Hogwarts, Guinny had come to acquire a warm love of her “second home.”

Though Guinny was treated with a friendly interest by other students, she, along with her closest friends, earned the labels “bookish” and “odd.” She gradually learned to conquer a shyness born of fear and become more assertive and pleasant to those around her, but she still retained an inborn cautious nature, confiding only in a tight-knit circle of Ravenclaw girls and even then withholding her most delicate thoughts and emotions to share with her mother by mail. She still continued to devote much of her free time to her studies, but she learned over time to let the small things slide. By the time fifth year rolled around, Guinny’s academic uptightness had significantly mellowed, and she found herself surprisingly content with two A’s on her Potions and Ancient Runes O.W.L.S.

One significant instance that helped Guinny to put her academic fervor into perspective was a horrific relationship she endured during her fifth year at Hogwarts. When Guinny returned to Hogwarts for her fifth year, it seemed as though the summer had lent to her a new touch of beauty that did not go unnoticed by several members of the opposite sex. Guinny soon found an admirer in Roger Gibson, a sixth year Ravenclaw and star chaser of their quidditch team. Flattered by attentions that she had never before received, Guinny excitedly entered the territory of a romantic relationship. For the first month of her time with Roger, Guinny was giddy with infatuation. Previously unconcerned with quidditch, Guinny devoted herself to attending Roger’s practice and games and spending countless hours in his company.

It was only later in the school year, as Guinny began to buckle down for O.W.L.S. studying and, consequently, had less time to devote to Roger, that she fell victim to first to a dysfunctional, over-possessive relationship. Roger’s abuse began with passive aggressive tactics, then scathing verbal attacks, and finally escalated to physical blows. It was the first trouble that Guinny never shared with her mother—she felt too afraid, and, somehow, too ashamed to tell anyone about Roger’s abuse. After three more months of a horrific period of Roger’s attacks and subsequent insincere apologies, the abuse culminated in Roger’s use of a wounding curse on Guinny.

Guinny suffered from the curse for two days before two of her concerned friends insisted that she go to the Hospital Ward to have her wounded shoulder looked at. The nurse was shocked to discover that the deep gash on Guinny’s arm had been the result of dark magic—a wound that couldn’t be healed magically. Despite repeated questioning following the event, Guinny insisted that the injury was her fault, the result of a DADA assignment gone wrong. She was afraid of revealing her abusive relationship, which she ended abruptly with little more excuse than that she and Roger simply “weren’t compatible.” Fortunately, Roger was expelled from the school only two weeks later for use of improper magical aid during a quidditch match. Despite Roger’s absence from school, the presence of his past actions have haunted Guinny ever since. Guinny never told anyone, including her mother, about her experience, but the changes it worked in her soon became evident to her closest relations. Guinny reverted to the reoccurring pensive spells that characterized her early days at Hogwarts and, naturally, has become exceptionally leery about members of the opposite sex. Roger was her first romantic endeavor, and she has not so much as flirted with a boy since.

Now in her final year at Hogwarts, Guinny is intent on finishing her classes with the highest marks before committing herself full-time to the Society for Distressed Witches, an organization founded by Dorcas Wellbeloved in 1800s and well-known for its charitable work and care for abused and mistreated witches. Although well warned by her mother and professors that the job will be low-paying and, according to some of her teachers, “a complete waste of talent,” Guinny feels certain that she is choosing the right path—a conviction born out of her own traumatic experience with Roger. Although Guinny feels she can never share with her mother and friends her deepest reason for choosing to join the SDW, she believes that such a line of work will be not only cathartic, but also a chance for her to provide guidance that, in retrospect, she wishes she had during her fifth year.

Personality:
You might call Guinny an eclectic product of two worlds. Her close relationship with her Muggle mum has made her a near carbon copy of the gentle and sprightly Francesca Fawcett. Guinny is well versed in Muggle culture. She adores Muggle literature and music, and enjoys doing some things “the hard way,” such as gardening and cooking without the aid of magic.

Despite Guinny’s naturally leanings toward and appreciation of the Muggle world, there can be no doubt that she also the daughter of Edwin Fawcett. Only a few years of studying at Hogwarts lead the rest of the Fawcetts to peg her as the “brain of the family.” She inherited her father’s curiosity and knack for learning magic, and, whatever setbacks she had early on in her education due to a fairly Muggle upbringing, she soon made up for with the Fawcett intuition. Guinny’s greatest passion is learning. She pursues what she loves with a fierce intensity, and despite the occasional ridicule for being “bookish,” she’s quite content with her scholastic niche at Hogwarts.

Guinny may appear at face value, then to be little more than a Muggle-raised braniac, but behind her sprightly, over-achieving façade lies a much more tangled mess of a young girl. However high marks she might make in her prized subjects, Guinny feels she’s little more to credit than simple academic achievement. Guinny’s protection against any feelings of inadequacy is simply scholasticism. When she can’t use books or papers to solve her problems or supply some lasting deficiency, she clams up into a self-doubting mess. Therefore, Guinny rarely likes to venture beyond the bounds of where her mind and wit can take her, whether in conversation, action, or long lasting relationships.

Brought up in a relatively sheltered environment Guinny also retains an air of naivety. Trusting to a fault, she might as well have the sign “Tread On Me” plastered on her forehead. Guinny is incredibly intuitive and discerning as to other’s emotions—not so much as to their intentions. Though not necessarily faults, these qualities turned out to be very unfortunate in Guinny’s dealings with the abusive Roger Gibson. Since her traumatic experience, Guinny lost her ability to trust unconditionally—especially where boys are concerned. Guinny is a stubborn idealist, though, and consequently a romanticist. Although a brief encounter with brutal reality may have shaken much of the youthful naivety she first brought to Hogwarts, Guinny still clings on to the almost buried hope that all things eventually work out for the best, and that good-hearted heroes do still exist. Of course, Guinny runs the risk of passing any such hero up, thanks to the defensive mechanisms she’s placed up ever since her dealings with Roger.

Guinny also has her share of more blatant faults. Her discerning attitude often gives way to a judgmental one, and she finds it hard to get over bad first impressions. Guinny is incredibly frank to the point of brutal bluntness. She sees no purpose in mincing words or smoothing over awkward circumstances. Her ability to cut to the quick is amusing enough when it’s all good-humored wit, but she can make for a fierce opponent in a round of verbal sparring. Guinny has a noticeable odd streak. Her taste in clothing is decidedly unique, and she often makes witticisms or observations that fly over the head of her peers. Her affinity for Muggle culture can also be a bit much for others—especially purists.

As far as Guinny’s dealings with the general populous goes, she’s generally even-tempered and amiable. In her mind, however, there are three unforgivable characteristics a person can possess: insincerity, intolerance, and injustice. Anyone displaying one of these unfavorable qualities can be sure to find themselves on Guinevere Fawcett’s bad side.

All told, Guinny’s currently a jumble of emotions, convictions, and mannerisms—many as paradoxical as the background from which she hails. Inward feelings of inadequacy coexist with assertive witticisms; faith lost in mankind keeps company with a stubborn idealism; a desire to help abused witches issues from the same soul that still desires closure on her own painful experiences. And all the while Guinny’s heart resides in the land incongruities, she’s trying to make the most sense of her last year at Hogwarts as best as she can.

RP Entry:
Guinny drummed her brightly painted fingers on the arm of the overstuffed reading chair in a secluded corner of the Hogwarts Library, a copy of A Charming Guide to Domestic Life resting in her lap. Mum’s birthday was in a week’s time, and she intended on charming an old lamp she had bought at discount in Hogsmeade into a perfect addition to the Fawcett living room. She scrunched her eyebrows as she whispered back the spell listed under a section titled “Illuminating Illusions.”

“Priori pigmento verdis,” she whispered, committing the spell to memory; she didn’t want to bother lugging the rather large volume back to her room in Ravenclaw tower. “Priori pigmento—”

“Excuse me.”

Guinny gave a short gasp, her curly head snapping up to face a smirking boy dressed in Slytherin robes.

“Could you tell me where to find books on Ancient Runes?”

Guinny narrowed her eyes. “Do I look like Madame Pince?”

“No,” came the smooth reply. “You’re much, much prettier than Madame Pince.”

“Save it, Lockhart,” she snapped, shutting her book with an overemphasized force. “You don’t even take Ancient Runes.”

The blonde, smirking boy simply shrugged his shoulders and stayed put. “Maybe I just wanted to know more about Ancient Runes. I’m smart too, you know, Little Miss Bookworm.”

“If you were smart, you’d know better than to talk to me, Lockhart. I don’t deal well with egomaniacal prigs. Why don’t you ask Madame Pince?”

After a good ten seconds of long, cold staring, Guinny rose from her seat, brushed past Gilderoy Lockhart and walked down the aisle to return A Charming Guide to its proper place. Boys—weren’t they all egomaniacal prigs? Guinny sighed and reflexively ran her fingers over a deep gash on her shoulder that had never fully healed. Yes—they were a hopeless lot.

#18

2008-05-24T12:03:47Z

Name: Jeremiah Nigel Wilkes
Birthdate: 10 June 1960
House: Slytherin
Residence: Chatham, Kent, England; a strictly suburbian, predictable, and unspectacular house.
Classes:
OWLs: Ancient Runes [O], Arithmancy [E], Astronomy [E], Charms [E], Defence Against the Dark Arts [E], Herbology [E], History of Magic [O], Potions [E], Transfiguration [E].
NEWTs: Astronomy, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Potions, Transfiguration.

Appearance:
By most accounts Jeremiah was not utterly bereft from birth in the looks department, though it would be something of a stretch to say that he was exceedingly attractive. Of the most oft-abused stereotype when it comes to male physiognomy – that is to say, "tall, dark, and handsome" – he fulfils, at best, one and a half of the three. Tall? Indeed, Jeremiah stands at six feet one and has a lean Seeker's build, all wiry frame and tapered long limbs. Dark? Debatable – his frequently tousled brown hair is more apt to take on a blond tint beneath the sun, and often he looks rather typically pasty in that characteristic British way. Handsome? Well, perhaps "striking" is more appropriate; his features angular and formed by rather hard lines – strong jaw-line, sharp chin, and cheeks drawn so hollow by the proud high cheekbones in his narrow face that Jeremiah has a tendency to appear rather gaunt. A certain amount of athleticism and quick reflexes aside, he carries himself with a deceptive lethargy, a slow long drawl present in both his speech and movement clearly implying that he is better than getting worked up about the current state of things. Pride is a factor here, inevitably enough: there is sometimes an unmistakably disdainful curl to Jeremiah's generous mouth, a haughty appraisal in his dark eyes, and his default expression (when he doesn't stand to gain anything by being charming to you) can best be described as: make like Elaine of Astolat and drown already. For the most part, though, he manages to school his features into something less incidentally vitriolic.

History:
The Wilkeses were the typical middle-class Wizarding family: with a long history of incidental blood purity and a steady output of mid-level Ministry officials, they were considered to be upstanding, unambitious, and ultimately unexciting citizens, the sort of pillars that societies are founded upon. This current generation seemed bent on winning the prize for Being Par for the Course: a white-picket house in Chatham, steady Ministry jobs for both Emmett and Samantha, and a precocious young son whose deliberate incineration of an out-of-favour teddy bear at two years old marked him as being unequivocally bound for Hogwarts. Growing up, Jeremiah was already proving to be an "odd" child: bright and intense, he was the boy who led local children in seemingly insane escapades, who would calmly attempt a balancing act atop a cathedral roof and emerged unscathed, simply because falling never occurred to him as an option. As Jeremiah grew older, Emmett and Samantha spent a lot of time worrying about the child; they couldn't afford to stay home and watch him, and at five years old he was already proving to be too much for local babysitters. Off to Muggle primary school he went.

Needless to say, Jeremiah resented this decision a whole bloody lot, until his first-grade teacher, one young Ms Chesterton, asked to test him for "special education"; after all, a boy of six years who could extensively quote Le Morte d'Arthur had to be special in certain ways, and that unnerving way in which he made her feel like she was always stating the obvious couldn't at all be normal. When the aptitude test results came back, concern turned to accolade, and of course a healthy dollop of "I knew it! I knew he was special!" was thrown into the mix as well. In any case, Jeremiah spent those first few years of elementary school as a sort of golden boy ("so much potential!"), and the attention somewhat pacified his extremities. Still, the sense of broader horizons and the knowledge that this was only to pass the time until Hogwarts kept him from becoming complacent. But there was no denying the fact that Chatham was irrevocably, terminally boring.

Hogwarts, however, certainly was not. The freedom of turning eleven and boarding that train, a new world to discover and conquer, quite went to Jeremiah's head. And furthermore, the classes there were actually useful, and there was Quidditch too. The first years were as close to happiness (or at least, "more satisfactory than usual") as Jeremiah had gotten thus far in life, even though Slytherin's blatant class bias hardly worked in his favour. A challenge, certainly, but not an insurmountable one, as his speech inflections imperceptibly morphed to take on a hint of the upper-class (cling to the consonants, drop the vowels), his penmanship markedly improved (your essays had better look damn good if you want the impression marks), and too-many-languages-to-properly-enumerate were steadily learned from dorm-mate (and more often than not, semi-conscious tutor in "how to act like a rich Catholic swot") Evan Rosier.

Jeremiah has also enjoyed a successful run since third year as the Slytherin Quidditch team's Seeker, and since sixth year has found himself, unsurprisingly but still pleasantly, captain of the team. The rest of his Hogwarts years have thus far passed uneventfully enough. The intellectually-exhibitionist tendencies from his pre-Hogwarts years have mellowed into a sort of calculated slacking, with his grades permanently hovering above "average" but not quite entering the realms of "spectacular". He has remained on decent terms with most of his house-mates, forming true friendships much less often than highly convenient brief alliances, but considering the fact that many others seem to have the same goals in mind, this could hardly be called surprising.

[N.B. I was admittedly being presumptuous in writing up Jeremiah's position(s) on the Quidditch team; needless to say I would be very glad if this is okay, but I would also like to apologize in advance for again, any presumptions made, and just say that I am absolutely okay with being asked to rewrite this last part.]

Personality:
One of the archetypal Slytherin traits is eloquence, the image of the silver-tongued serpent being inextricably tied to the house, and this is perhaps the trait one would most readily associate with Jeremiah Wilkes. He is and always has been charismatic – but of course, that's the nice way to put it, and those who aren't inclined to be nice would call him a manipulative bastard. Personally speaking, Jeremiah is more partial to this latter way of thinking, because this talent at manipulation is something he's proud of, and he finds euphemisms a waste of time when he's not the one employing them to good effect. And on the diametrically opposite side of this preference for bluntness is his gift with words. Jeremiah likes getting what he wants, but he likes getting what he doesn't even really want all the more, since it's not the final objective that interests him but rather the process of procuring.

Jeremiah enjoys storytelling because he's very good at it, and because it's fun to watch you gape like a fish over some particularly outlandish tale. These stories are hardly ever personal (that would be simply too gauche) but he is often full of amusing anecdotes and distracting little cliffhangers, lazily and seemingly carelessly drawled out, but – ah, the magic is in the delivery, of course! In reality these tales are rather more premeditated upon, calculated to give a certain impression with inextricable links to charm. This has two main implications in his social skills: first, that he would be a welcome guest at a party (as a rule, Jeremiah makes friends or at least acquaintances, and not enemies; entertains but is rarely offensive; and gets people's guards down without them becoming aware of the fact), and secondly, he is given plenty of opportunity to hone his powers of deception. Jeremiah is an adroit liar, the type of boy to clasp your hand warmly while driving a dagger into your back without the slightest change in his schooled expression – probably a bright genial smile you would have no reason whatsoever to doubt.

Most people are either charmed by him or repulsed by his duplicity – it depends on how much of his little games they've seen him play, and whether they've had first-hand experience with Jeremiah on the Quidditch field, at which point any and all honeyed words are shed for an intent sense of purpose, and a distinct okayness with playing dirty. When it comes to the sport, he demands nothing but the best from himself and from everyone else, and takes losses very badly. (That Jeremiah is a sore loser is a very telling note: he's obviously not used to it.) But Quidditch aside, Jeremiah much prefers to not get his hands dirtied and is satisfied with being a back-seat driver. He likes to not take charge of a situation, because of an acute sense of self-preservation – this way, if something goes wrong then he would not be to blame. His view on life is often tempered by schadenfreude and a belief that he is untouchable, two traits which, more than anything else, show his immaturity. He likes, for the most part, the things that teenaged boys like (Quidditch in all aspects, herbs of the not-perfectly-aboveboard variety, somewhat questionable humour) but is bothered by the fact, as the image he tries to present to the world is somehow above all these juvenile temptations.

RP Entry:
Making a good impression on Slughorn was nothing; making it seem incidental and effortless was everything; and that meant, of course, not resorting to such cheap tricks as surreptitious offerings of crystallized pineapple, as that was just too obvious and heavy-handed and not to mention actually really very stupid. Besides which it was uneconomical, as unlike Evan, Jeremiah had no virtually-limitless funds at his disposal, and unlike Snape, he was not a Potions prodigy. Good at the subject, certainly; better than many if not most, of course, but this was not something that could verily be contested. Besides the fact which there was Lily bloody Evans to contend with as well, and as a rule – the rule being don't pick a battle you know you can't win, of course – he turned his attention to other aspects of life at Hogwarts. Namely Quidditch.

If he had to pore over anything for an ungainly amount of time, Jeremiah figured that it might as well be Quidditch strategies. The common room was deserted, of course, and the fire burnt quite low. He rubbed his eyes and tugged at his already loose tie; the clock was striking – one, two, it was two o'clock already and there was Charms first thing in the morning – this was obscenely late even for a night owl like him, it truly was, but sleep was evidently not forthcoming, so better put those insomniac hours to good use.

(Don't work hard; work smart.)