Possibly stemming from some latent control issues she’s never really had to address, Victoria rarely ever tackles a situation without a thorough, comprehensive plan in mind. Even her contingency plans have contingency plans tailored for them, and in the rare, once-in-a-blue-moon event she can put a plan to action due to your mistakes, you’d better believe she’ll rain a number of unpleasant hells down upon you later.



Were one looking for a truly apt way to describe Victoria Faulkner, especially to the sweet, naive little lamb who hasn’t yet faced her wrath, one might liken her to a broken faucet. On one hand, her scathing wit and truly incendiary temper will, if triggered too long and by the wrong person, roast you to ashes. On the other, she’ll probably still destroy you. It takes very little to set her off, and, unfortunately, she’s a grudge-bearer. A minor misdemeanor may as well be a felony, in her book, because she’ll punish you all the same. She’s brutally unforgiving.



The art of persuasion is a delicate one, but unfortunately, Victoria’s been fencing since long before she ever picked up a wand Once she’s set her mind to something, she’ll rarely sway her opinion or concede the point. Be it a duel, a debate, or a deathmatch, once she’s committed, she won’t ever relent. She’s absolutely determined to establish herself as strong and unyielding, and this dogged desperation may very well get her killed.



She’s got an ego taller than she is, and her arrogance may very well surpass the heavens. Her fatal flaw is hubris, and anything she considers even a faint slight on her integrity will be met with cruelty and contempt.



She’s not one for sugarcoating matters, albeit not out of malicious intent - she’s honestly oblivious to her own bluntness. Having Victoria around is like having a hammer you can throw with impunity at delicate situations.



A solitary childhood left Victoria unsure how to properly socialize. “Rich people friends” aren’t the same as true friends - you meet your affluent allies at company-sponsored galas, bond over parental expectations, facilitate each other’s substance abuses, and do as much as you can to show off how filthily wealthy you are. Under no circumstances do you willingly spend time together sober. The Faulkner heiress’s position isn’t as desirable as one might think. Her world is staggeringly luxurious, thoughtlessly wasteful, and soul-crushingly lonely. It’s a good thing Victoria’s vice is adrenaline.



In tandem with the above, in the rare event Victoria does forge a meaningful bond with someone, she'll fight like a demon to ensure they're constantly happy, safe, and want for nothing. Perhaps she's a little bit excessive, yes, but she either loves in excess or not at all. Again with the comparison to the broken faucet. Perhaps it's her selfish, greedy nature that causes this urge to defend - perhaps she thinks if she can be the perfect companion, her friends/romantic partners won't want to leave her for anyone else. Perhaps it's just sad, pitiful desperation - she's so desperate for positive attention, so starved for affection, that she'll give as much as she can possibly afford to keep that love coming.



She’s clever, considering her upbringing, and can read people with relative ease. Her overactive imagination contributes to her ability to almost “predict” certain outcomes - the only successful result of her father’s conditioning, or yet another coping mechanism?

Because of her status as the technical sole heiress to the Faulkner name, and because her father has drilled into her the importance of ambition, she’s naturally driven, and entirely willing to work for what she wants - if the situation calls for it. If hard labor will produce the intended outcome faster than a monetary bribe, then that’s the course of action she’ll choose, and vice versa.

Because she’s capable of distancing herself from her problems, treating them as purely intellectual exercises, she works extraordinarily well under pressure. She can disable the parts of her brain (typically those governing emotional attachment) that aren’t helping and dissect the problem logically without fear of hindrances such as the heart’s judgment slowing her down.

It’s not a coping mechanism one should envy, no matter how useful it might be.



Her cold, distant, mannerisms and concerted efforts toward maintaining the illusion of detachment can freeze you where you stand. (Toward those with whom she’s managed to establish a vague approximation of a friendship, she can and usually will dial it down, turning from scathing to fondly exasperated.) She rejects others to spare herself the pain of rejection.

However, despite her eagerness to resort to status and funds to get what she wants, Victoria is surprisingly reticent in terms of talking about about her family, because daddy issues, daddy issues, daddy issues. If it’s not something you could glean from her family’s company website (her father does love those eccentric Muggles and their inventions), it’s not something she’s willing to disclose. Attempts to push the matter will usually garner a frosty glare and the silent treatment.

She’s cursed with ‘resting bitch face’ syndrome, meaning her default expression is a somewhat disdainful scowl.



She’s used to a certain degree of comfort and refinery as far as amenities and lifestyle goes; dragging her along camping and presenting her with a few hastily-butchered trees to serve as makeshift chairs would earn a priceless look of disgust. She also has absolutely no idea how people without limitless funding live - trying to explain to her concepts such as “frugality” and “not dropping thousands of galleons on jackets alone in one sitting” and “Victoria no we know you have more money than god and could buy out this entire store please stop brandishing your credit card like a club sweet merciful lord” is, unfortunately, futile. She’s also never had actual fast food - most of the chefs at home can replicate a healthier alternative with relative ease.

Vain enough to maintain her appearance almost meticulously. She’s downright pedantic about her eye makeup, and suggesting she go a day without brushing or styling her hair is akin to slapping her across the face.



On rare occasions, she can be incisively funny, especially when she’s trying to call someone out on their bullshit or launch into a hilariously pissy rant. Tragedy is Victoria happening to you, comedy is Victoria happening to someone else. She’s also willing to argue with absolutely anyone about absolutely anything. She has a certain flair for the dramatic, meaning her comments are always entertaining.



Further imbalancing the unstable collection of minefields that can generously be called a personality, most of Victoria’s frustrations and irate outbursts result from internalization of her own shortcomings. The only reason she’s so skilled at pointing out others’ flaws is because she’s had loads of practice picking out her own. However, she refuses to let these flaws govern her entirely, and she’s entirely willing to work hard to overcome them.

While more than happy to congratulate herself - some of her exploits during her first year earned her the nickname, “God Complex” - Victoria has no idea what to make of an honest compliment. She tends to flounder and stutter and lapse into disjointed, flustered mumbling. It’s precious, and should be reserved for dire situations only. Along that vein, she’s extremely susceptible to cajolery and her friends’ wheedling; she has a hard time resisting pouting and pleading.

Because she’s whiter than Wonder bread doused in mayonnaise, the poor girl blushes extremely noticeably. Be it the gradually darkening red flush of anger to the light pink sheen of embarrassment, her cheeks are typically as colorful as her insults.

Muggle-Born

11: Birthday October 7th

Male

Rory was born into a working class family in the Glasgow suburb of Paisley. His father is a butcher at the local supermarket, and his mother has worked on and off part-time at a string of convenience stores. Her health issues have chronically caused her to lose work and fall back on social security, which meant that growing up the pulse of the family was often directly related to how bad Rory's mother's nerve pain was that particular day. With his father working overtime most days to support three children, Rory (as the oldest) found himself from age six or seven to be having to complete a lot of household chores such as fixing himself meals and cleaning up after dinner. Rory's father is not unloving, but was necessarily distant because of irregular work hours and often overcompensated by “overparenting” his children when he could find time, inserting guidance and admonitions where they were not necessarily needed or required. His father also struggled with an alcohol dependence that was rarely violent but still further impaired his ability to foster trusting relationships with his children. Thus, Rory grew up in a family where he often had to take care of his younger siblings, while just as often fighting them for the finite attention of their parents.

His early social environment was heavily mediated by the lack of emotional support in his family, but luckily Rory found some support from the teachers at his school. Though the school was an underfunded inner-city institution with a mostly working-class demographic, his year one teacher took a great liking to Rory and often spent more time with him than he did the other students, regularly checking in on the young child to make sure he was managing okay in school. Thanks to that and a relatively middle-of-the-road experience in terms of popularity, Rory got along quite well in primary school and tended to finish solidly above average in terms of grades. As he aged, Rory took a bit of an interest in sports such as football, but his smaller stature often disqualified him from the position he most wanted to play, which is goalkeeper. He was most interested in that position because something about being the last line of defense for his team really spoke to him and made him feel needed and valued by others when he made an unexpected save.

However, Rory has also been exposed to the realities of child poverty, including going hungry at mealtimes and facing systematic food insecurity, missing out on regular health checkups, being somewhat malnourished, and struggling to afford proper school supplies. He benefits from being the older child, as many of his old clothes are handed down to his brothers, but he still often looks with jealousy at the clothes that other children wear to school. He often has to be clever and a bit deceitful in order to look out for himself, such as using tricks to get extra food at the school lunch line so he can save some for dinner, or crafting cover stories for his location when he's hanging out with the older boys. Rory is not therefore not completely innocent to violence, substance misuse, or poverty, but it is important to remember that he is young and still part of a loving if struggling family that provides him with some degree of love and support.

When it comes to his personality, Rory has inherited his father's work ethic, but often conflates hard working with effective working, and can get easily frustrated and discouraged when hard work doesn't pay off. In the primary school system, he worked a little bit with the school counselor to get better at setting goals, but he still dreams very big and is crushingly disappointed when those dreams don't come true. However, Rory bounces back very quickly from disappointment, despite being extremely emotive, and is quick to latch onto solutions or the “next big thing” that provides him with an opportunity to be positive. These cycles of manic excitement to extreme disappointment and frustration to a return to excitement and work define Rory's daily experience, and make him an effective (if erratic) student. It is also a learned behaviour that exemplifies Rory's resilience in the face of his situation – though he has internalized some negative messages about his background, he is constantly looking for the silver lining, and has been a great help to his family because of that.

When it comes to interpersonal relationships, Rory comes on quite strong. He's used to having only short periods of time in which to interact or engage in reciprocal displays of affection, so he tries to get as much done in as short a period of time as possible. Only some of this is a learned behaviour; Rory's mother and father both have very intense personalities and opinions, and Rory inherited that characteristic. He is upfront, often boisterous, and seeks to create emotional response to his actions, such as laughter at his jokes or friends congratulating him on a success. He desperately craves long-term friendship, and often needs continued signs of friendship and affection over time to feel more comfortable.

Finally, despite his intense nature, Rory does keep many things very secret and intentionally does not tell people about information about himself or his situation that he feels might give other people power over him. For example, while growing up he learned not to mention certain facts about his home life while at school to avoid a child protection investigation, and he holds onto secrets like a vise. Ultimately, this means that those who are attentive will note that though Rory talks quite a bit, very little of what he says is overly specific or revealing about himself.

At first glance, Rory is a stick of a boy, shorter than average and with not very much meat on his bones. To any medical professional, it is evident that he is slightly malnourished though not necessarily underfed, and that he has received minimal medical attention over the years. In particular, his teeth are slightly uneven; while not hideously out of place, he is a child that could definitely have benefited from braces but never got them. Rory has a brownish black mop of hair on his head that easily curls into ringlets and is impossible to keep straight the second he steps outside into a wind. His irises are a dark blue, with some darker-coloured specks in them, and his nose is set a little bit higher than the average.

As a young teenager, he is gangly and his limbs look a bit out of place, but are not otherwise noticeable; he has the build of a much stockier child, and will likely fill that out over the years if he eats more. He is Caucasian, with the complexion of a child who gets sunburnt often and so ends up with patches of slightly redder skin around his nose and neck, but otherwise lacks freckles or distinguishing birthmarks. He has a small, almost unnoticeable scar on his left ear where he tripped and fell into a barbed wire fence while playing as a young child.

Rory has become more self conscious of how skinny he is, and if left up to him his clothing would all be baggy enough to conceal his frame. Luckily enough for him, his clothes are relatively baggy already, being bought to also fit Rory's younger brother who despite being a year and a half younger is almost bigger than Rory. Given this, Rory usually defaults to thin hooded jumpers that look less out of place on him, t-shirts, and denim trousers.

Rory's wand is made of yew wood, with a unicorn hair as the core, 11in in length, and supple. It is otherwise undecorated, but the grain of the wood creates a very prominent swirling pattern on the wand. As wands go, it is reliable, consistent, very resistant to damage, and holds a surprising capacity for channelling magical energy. However, it lacks the flashy pop and almost intuitive responsiveness of wands with other cores, and as a result only gives out exactly what is put into it.

Rory's boggart is himself, standing alone and friendless, whispering to him about how he's let everyone down. This is related to Rory's genuine fear of being left alone. He hates the feeling of not having anyone to turn to or verify his opinions or actions, but most of all fears the contempt or rejection of other people. This is a substantial fear to the point that Rory struggles to apologize to others out of fear of their rejection, and takes a very long time to discuss the 'secrets' about himself or others that his brain holds on lock-down. It's important to distinguish between that and social anxiety, as Rory is fine in most social situations, even the centre of attention in many, but struggles with particular social situations that he feels put him at risk of ostracization.

Nothing, as of yet! I've yet to work out exactly how his family reacted to the letter, but I've got a few ideas. They'll most likely be supportive, if perplexed and even a little angry. Rory is also definitely going to be on a scholarship for poor students.

Muggle born

11 | October 2 | Libra

Cis female

Hero's father, Alexander, is the great nephew of gas and oil tycoon Charles Hallcrest. Alexander is a quiet, gentle man. Not the sort to enjoy the spotlight. Luckily for him, his branch of the family is far enough removed from the wealth and power of the "Hallcrest Legacy" that their heads don't hang heavy with the weight of the name's reputation, despite remaining close enough to the name to receive yearly invitations to the standard Hallcrest gatherings.

Alexander's wife, Tabitha, expresses her distaste for Hallcrest get-togethers rather vocally – incessantly, even. She's never been a fan of being looked down on, a trait all of her children seem to have inherited.

Hero herself is the penultimate child in a series of seven; despite being muggle-born, she's hardly the only magical child of the lot. Hero's eldest sister, Helen, was the first magical person born to the Hallcrest-Wyrm clan. She's a Hogwarts alum, a Hufflepuff; she graduated three years ago. Hero's six year old sister, Iris, has expressed latent magical abilities to her parents' twane jubilation and exasperation. And of course, there's Andrew.

In 2013, a fire swept through the Hallcrest summer estate. The Hallcrest-Wyrm family was lucky enough to escape with a broken leg and first degree burns distributed haphazardly among them; Alexander's sister, Amanda Worth, was not. She and her husband died in the Hillcrest Estate fire; Hero's parents lept at the chance to adopt their nephew. The Hallcrest-Wyrm brood grew to eight, where it now stands.

Andrew and Hero were born on the same day, and expressed magical aptitude around the same time. Their acceptance letters arrived by way of a single owl. More than once,they've gotten into schoolyard brawls – most of the time in the name of defending the other. A name like Wyrm doesn't tend to do you favors on the jungle-gym. Being the downy, blond orphan-boy doesn't make you much of anything, save a target.

Andrew and Hero spent most of their childhood together, even before Andrew's adoption. They whisper their secrets and hopes and dreams and nightmares into each other's ears – tell each other the things they wouldn't be able to say to themselves. The things they wouldn't be able to admit to or realize without someone to hold their hands. Before their letters came, they'd spend whole nights in their room, talking about the future. What they wanted to be when they grew up. Who they wanted to be. Hero has a certain penchant for asking big questions – one that's well matched by Andrew's eagerness to find big answers.


Protective | "If she ever touches you again, I'll gut her where she stands. I promise."


Judgemental | "I never said he was a bad teacher. I just said his lessons were rubbish, and his voice made it hard to even pay attention."


Rebellious | "Of course we have to do it after curfew. There'd be no point to it otherwise; do you think before you talk?"


Curious | "Yes, the explosion was worth it. Don't worry, my eyebrows'll grow back... eventually. Probably."


Reliable, Dogged & Grudging | "Let me spell it out, then: I don't care how sorry you are."

Hero is tall for eleven, but not as tall as her six older sisters were at her age. She's got dirty blond hair, thin, dark eyebrows, and a round face. She's shed most of her childish-roundness in favor for the gangly, alien and frog-like limbs of prepubescent adolescents. She has a straight nose, set in the level middle of her face. Her grin is crooked at best, and lips are perpetually chapped; you'll rarely see her without chapstick or lip balm within arms' reach.

Her palms and knees are tough and calloused – scarred from years of refusing to wear padding on bikes and jeans while trekking over rocks.

Hero's not terribly concerned with her outfits making sense. She wears what she likes, because she likes how it looks. Not always on her, but in general. She spends her allowances at a thrift shop a few miles away from her home – the result of which is as eye-assaulting as it is... interesting to look at.

Her hair's usually pulled back and away from her face, in a ponytail or a bun. Really, Hero needs glasses. She even has glasses; she refuses to wear them.

She loves skirts; she adores costume jewelry. There are weeks she'll bike back home from the thrift shop with a box of whatever they haven't been able to sell. Eye gouging teals, vomit neon-greens, pinks bright enough to come with a warning label. The bolder, the brighter, the more "well-loved," the more Hero's likely to wear it.

By and far her most treasured article of clothing is her home made necklace. Wrapping twine braided into a chain as its lace, the clasp a knot –charmed by her sister to keep from breaking– that leads to a pearl of blue, wave-worn glass, itself glued to a particularly shiny black rock. The necklace winds up nestling into her collarbone. Andrew made it for her when they were in second grade. She hasn't taken it off since, save to lengthen the twine.

Hero made Andrew a necklace with the same wrapping twine, the same knot clasp. Hers was set with a tiny bone glued to a Heineken bottle cap – the edges filed for the sake of his delicate skin.

Hero discovered her wand behind Ollivander's shop counter, while he was distracted with the outburst from what would be her brother's wand. No sooner did Hero lay her hands on the wand's case than she fell in love with it. Despite Ollivander's reluctance to part with the cherry and dragon heartstring wand, Hero's apparent and immediate bond with the thing earned her the right to try championing it.

The wand's magic packs a punch that Hero's always delighted to see. Despite being difficult to control, Hero's flourishing spells partner well with the wand's core and the flexibility of its wood. The wand seems to have opinions of its own about how it ought to be used – it's not unusual to hear Hero chastising it behind closed doors, for "having a shit attitude".

The wand itself isn't as ornate as Hero had hoped. The wood spirals and darkens the closer it gets to the handle. The handle was set with a black opal, which has since been pried off and affixed to a bracelet.

Amanda Worth's crooked body: her shin torn open by its own bone, her mouth unhinged, screaming, as she's swallowed by flames.

Pureblood

11, born May 23rd.

Female.

Quiet but Observant
-Bella, being the youngest of seven children, has adapted the ability of being unusual quiet, because she feel like no one will hear her. She does not talk much. She has been this way since she was a child, which, in her opinion, was actually a blessing. Being quiet has allowed her to be more observant of other people and listen closer to others. This allows her to learn people's hidden secrets through things like eaves-dropping and registering people's body language, even ones that they haven't shared with their friends.

Optimistic but Realistic
-Bella believes that everything happens for a reason, which also means that she is grateful for the stuff that happens, but she also realizing that things can be bad. She grew up in a tough home, which means that she has good manners and thanks everyone for almost everything, mainly because her parents were tough on her about it since she is the only one who seems to be able to learn in her family. She is also quite fair, not taking sides when her friends get into fights. She does help mediate things though, pointing out answers that the anger driven people didn't see in the first place. She tends to try not to get involved in fights as much, though, because she is so afraid that people will judge her.

Intelligent, Careful
-Bella is quite intelligent, even from a small child. She does her best to do her best and everyone notices it, which is a reason her siblings are jealous of her. But, since she is smart, she has figured out when to talk and when not to talk. She learned this when she kept showing up her older siblings with facts and figures about the wizarding world that even they didn't know because she has read through their books closer and faster than they have. She is always careful not to show up others now, after an incident with a few of her older siblings.

Passionate, Hard-Working, Driven
-Bella has never been known to turn down a challenge. She always strives for greatness, even when it pushes her physical limits. She attacks every problem or challenge full force and does not stop until she is sure that there is no solution or that she has completed the task at hand. She sometimes doesn't sleep when she has to get her work done. This is a side that a lot of people don't notice about Bella because she is so quiet and a lot of people don't know what she's doing.

Submissive
-As Bella is the youngest, she is more likely to do what she is told than others because she has seen the punishment dealt out by her parents to her siblings. This has also transferred over into her personality to where she doesn't tend to fight with people, unless they are close friends, which she rarely has any of. She always has what she believes, but if someone is very forceful in saying that she is wrong, then she won't pursue fighting with them just to proven a point. She is always asking to do things, which she will do, but she sometimes lowers her head when she does them because she didn't want to do them in the first place.

Ignorant
-Because Bella is a bigger optimist than realist, she tends to be a bit more ignorant than most when it comes to bad situations. She always does her best to try and look into the good, but then she ignores the bad and that can get her hurt, like with her brother's multiple personality disorder and her sister's bipolar disorder. If someone is ever mean to her, she tries to ignore them, but the mean comments still hurt her.

Sensitive
-Bella wears her feelings on her sleeve and tends to be a bit of a crier sometimes. She is very open with her feelings, mainly through facial expressions and how she acts rather than through her voice. When it comes to bullies, she does tend to cry if one of the comments is extremely mean. She does not get angry often, but she gets more frustrated than anything, which is another reason for her to cry.

Bella is very small for her age and quite skinny. She had very full blonde hair that falls just below her shoulders. Her eyes are a dark ocean blue color, which is majorly different from the bright green of the rest of her family. Her brows are a shade darker than her hair and her eyelashes match her hair color perfectly. She has a spattering of freckles across her face, mainly from being outside doing housework.

Though she is small and skinny, Bella is quite athletic. She has muscles, though they are lean muscles. She has a scar on her collarbone from one of her brothers breaking a bottle and cutting her with it during an... episode. Her hands are pretty small, but she also has slim fingers that show wear of piano playing. She has bigger hips, but she has the body of an athlete, minus the hips. She has slightly tanned skin, mainly a farmers tan, from watching her siblings play Quidditch. She does have a few bruises here and there.

|Springy|Birch|12 1/2 inches|Unicorn Hair Core|

Many people, especially her family, think that she is slightly strange for this, but her worst fear is a monster called the Wendigo. But what many people don't know is that it really isn't about the Wendigo itself. A Wendigo is a former human that was possessed by a demon spirit when they were half dead and starving and it forces the human to eat another human, which releasing the Wendigo to fully take over the body. The human then transforms into a Wendigo, which has milky white eyes to it can track its prey when its prey is moving, taunt skin that is pretty much bullet proof, and skinny appendages which allow it to move quickly and is amazingly strong. The Wendigo, for Bella, represents the monster inside of a person close to her and that fear that she will become a monster is projected through the Boggart into a Wendigo that looks just like the person she cares for, i.e. her brother with the multiple personality disorder.

-That is an actual picture of an eleven year old. As we switch years, I'll update the picture.
-Bella knows a lot of spells from watching her older siblings, but she isn't very good at them. Yet.
-She is an amazing Quidditch player, especially a chaser.

Pureblood

11

Female

Shy and quiet, Ishwarya has always found it difficult to make friends. Raised in a cultural household where obedience to education and intelligence came first, she has been molded into a young girl who very stringently follows the rules and dutifully sticks to her studying. Her shyness has only been a hindrance in making friends where the people concerned are too impatient and unwillingly to listen to her quiet voice. However, what friendships she does forge are usually strong.

Ishwarya is also extremely gentle, and has a seemingly infinite amount of patience, surprising for her age. She is especially good with animals, and can be especially good with the feelings of other people, if given the chance. Her gentle and supportive manner can be the cure to an unhappy day for many, and sooth away worries. Her parents took an early note of her affinity for helping and caring, and adopted for her an old crup with which she visited many witches and wizards in need of some affection therapy at Mungo's. When the old crup passed on, they adopted a second, much younger, which up till her departure to Hogwarts, did as his predecessor had and accompanied his young master on therapeutic trips to Mungo's.

She is also prone to nerves and anxiety, most apparent prior to a test or big presentation. Her nervousness extends beyond the academic realm as well; she can become easily nervous in first time introductions, and while she is a normally diligent speaker (when not standing at the head of a classroom delivering a presentation), she can trip over and butcher words in simple one on one introductions. Because Ishwarya was taught to defer to the "higher power" as a child, she is not known for disobeying teachers and similar educational enforcers. Similarly, she will allow bullies and relatively abrasive friends to walk all over her.While her father approves of her obedient nature to school authorities, her mother fears that, without supportive friends, she will never overcome her shyness.

Ishwarya also has an insatiably curiosity, and perhaps her curiosity is truly where she pushes boundaries. Of course, she pushes them in a very docile and obedient way, but nevertheless, it is the greatest amount of defiance she is capable of mustering up, for now. Ishwarya doesn't necessarily care about being extremely knowledgeable or well-rounded; in fact, she quite like her average little position in the world. Rather, she desires to know about the things she wants to know about, and not all of the things she apparently needs to know about. It has been frustrating for her parents to watch her toss aside classic literature in favor of contemporary fantasy, or forget about biology to (illegally) play Quidditch in her parent's yard with her father's broom.

Ishwarya, while shy, is friendly. That is to say, once she's overcome the awkwardice of introductions, and the rocky beginnings of a newly blooming friendship, she can become very sociable. Now, that isn't to say she become some social butterfly. She just becomes very easy with the people she becomes familiar with, and facilitates conversations more often. She is more interested in them and what they have to say, especially if she views them as a "good" person or friend.

Ishwarya is a tall and skinny girl with long and almost elegant features. Being eleven, and only just entering puberty, she's still got the telltale signs of prepubescence in awkward proportions and the generically weird features that children tend to have when they begin to go from child to teenager. However, as with all people, she's still got basic features that will stay the same through most of her life. Ishwarya has a flat, angled, face, with low cheekbones and pronounced edges. Her dark almost black eyes are large and round, complimented by neat arching eyebrows, and are usually the first thing people see (typically because they look so worried or frightened upon introduction). She's got a small button nose, and her lips are medium in size. As mentioned before, Ishwarya is gangly, and her body often reflects the type of one who was meant to be a runner, being small and streamlined. However, Ishwarya's overall appearance may make some think of her as fragile or breakable.

Cedar || Unicorn Hair || 10" || The willingness of Ishwarya's wand to change owners lies somewhere in the middle of things. Partially sentient as it is, the wand sees in Ishwarya the potential to be of a different character, if she pushed herself hard enough. Already, she possesses the loyalty Cedar wands are so fond of. But she does not yet have the fire that accompanies the owner of a Cedar, the want to protect their friends with the aggressiveness of a dragon or agitated hippogriff. It could be said that her wand is skeptical. As to weather or not it stays with her is yet to be seen.

Seeing her crup taken away. It is perhaps, not the scariest of fears to others, but it terrifies her enough for her boggart to manifest in such a way.

She owns a three year old crup, Spot, who, like all crups, is generically extremely loyal towards his owner. Spot still has his a pronounced stub where his second tail used to be, due to a bad cropping; the Singh's have passed the tail stump's presence off as a birth defect, making him relatively easy to keep.

Muggle-Born

11

Male

Ravenclaw

Lives in the Moment | As someone with a penchant for photography and cameras, Kina enjoys most capturing moments as they whizz by. It never fails to intrigue him how just a push of the shutter button can immortalise an instant: be it a sunset, a laugh, a blade of grass yielded to the wind. His camera is what he grabs onto when he’s unsure, the viewfinder a safe place. He was disappointed his digital camera wouldn't function properly in Hogwarts, but he will admit he is awed by the moving pictures the Wizarding world has, a moment relived over and over in motion.

A Little of a Dreamer | It is in Kina's nature to live in two worlds sometimes. In his spare time, he might be immersing himself in a fantasy world hidden in unassuming pages and paragraphs, or imagining himself one. He often has one foot in this world we all share, and another in one populated by only himself. People often feel the need to fill spaces with words and noises and dialogue. Kina thinks there is just as much beauty and meaning in the silences in between.

Optimism | He doesn’t step headlong into trust, but he retains faith in the best in people at first encounter – only losing it should they prove otherwise on repeated counts, and even then perhaps not. People he is comfortable with are few and far between, but Kina knows to accept wholeheartedly those who are willing to put up with him, and his tentative reservations. His confidence in people outweighs his own. Kina knows as much, but he reckons that this keeps him humble. He is not so much as enthused by the future, as he is hopeful. Most of the time, he can convince himself that anything will get better, and this attitude is what buoys him along. He shares his optimism not by forcing it onto people, but by painting a picture of what could be, so attractive that people will prefer to cling onto the hope rather than abandon it. Nothing is set in stone for Kina, and he contemplates a stark reality with an outlook for positive prospects. This also translates into valuing a person’s best features, and accepting the unfavourable.

Copes with Silence | But there are times when he sinks further. Kina may retreat to his room and shan’t emerge until he has been submerged in his own silence long enough to face noise again. If not given the chance to do so, he will withdraw into himself, and won’t say a word unless someone actively tries to rope him back in. During rough patches, Kina copes with stress or pressure by going catatonic. Holding onto his words when he feels as though he is slowly spiraling out of restraint gives him the illusion of control, of having a say – by removing speech – in some part of his life. He does everything with effort and his best, and burns out easily. He may seem fragile, spontaneously slipping into a wordless unresponsive state without warning, but it just appears sudden because Kina won’t say a word or give any indication of what has been weighing his heart beforehand.

Towards Others | Even if Kina is not very good at protecting himself, he doesn’t bend so easily when it comes to friends or people he cares about. He tries not to listen to rumours if they are baseless, and he won’t let whispers on the wind affect his individual perception of his peers. His method of comfort is highly characteristic of himself: he won’t give reassurances of another’s qualities even if he believes fervently in them. He doesn’t think his words will hold high value or large enough impact to right the wrong done. But Kina will stick fast, for his strength is the wordless sort. He would be the last to turn a back on a person, and he holds on through thick and thin with unwavering loyalty. Needless to say, when he loves people, he loves them wholeheartedly, placing their desires above his needs. Severing a relationship is all but an unspeakable betrayal of trust to him, and he is willing to put in as much as effort as is needed to rectify anything.

Kina was born to two loving, middle-class parents. They lived in an average neighbourhood, where there was some seedy lowlife but where Kina never encountered any trouble. He always lay low on the radar, partly because he tended to shy away from the spotlight. He was diligent in school, amidst other youths who took up smoking much too early, who joined gangs and all but erased their own directions in life. Kina would win an award for academic performance every year, and after the first three began to consider not doing as well so he wouldn’t have to go up on stage and present himself to an audience with a glaring spotlight baking his skin as he broke into cold sweat. But his parents – weary and lined as hard workers often are – always seemed to glean so much joy from watching their son clamber up to the principal to receive his prize (never mind if his knees were knocking), that he didn’t think he could tear that pride away from them, only to replace it with disappointment. So he continued to study well in school, continued to bring home certificates and sometimes medals.

In primary school, Kina knew a girl who was his very best friend. He had other friends, but none as close as this one. She had spent the better part of a week pulling him closer and closer, until it was easier for Kina to just smile at her and stop protesting. He had never known a relationship so close, where he could lean on her for support. He didn't know that that meant placing in her hands the power to walk away and unbalance him. Kina thinks falling once might have been hard enough, and he would have simply picked himself up and relearned how to stand alone, with himself as a lone crutch. But his friend had a tendency to walk away in anger and then return after she was again happy and placated by Kina’s efforts to remedy whatever wrong it might have been. Kina took to bending backwards to keep her pleased and pleasant and by his side. Wasn’t prevention better than cure? It was a friendship that wore him out constantly, but he began to believe with his usual optimism that if he were to do better, and not make mistakes, he wouldn't make her angry, and he wouldn't fall down so often. So really, his friend would comment now and then when she was sated, if he had to struggle to his feet bruised and battered from yet another drop, it was his fault.

He came to believe her, and in the end, leaning on another’s shoulders came more and more slowly to him, while his own became rounded under the familiar weight of blame. His words, already soft to begin with, only got quieter and quieter, and Kina learnt that sometimes the numbing bolster of silence and solitude were preferable to being hurt - though he'd never say so.

When the letter from Hogwarts came on his birthday, in a flutter of feathers and indignant hoots as the kitchen exploded in disorganised confusion, Kina’s head could barely wrap around the idea of magic. But his parents beamed at him, as though the wizardry that ran in his veins and the spells that would soon push arithmetic and chemistry out of his head were something he had worked hard to acquire. And once the shock had worn out, he was grinning too. What followed was a messy weekend of visiting Diagon Alley, and getting used to all sorts of patrons in the Leaky Cauldron where they stayed a night. He grew increasingly excited at the life that awaited him, and he never thought buying text books would be such an adventure. As the first of September approached, the tension in the pit of his stomach only ebbed away, and Kina tried very hard not to admit to himself that it had to do with the distance he was finally putting between himself and his friend, and instead busied himself with learning what Chocolate Frogs and Butterbeer were from the lady who pushed a trolley-cart laden with unfamiliar sweets.

Kina has brown curls that are almost always ruffled and messy. He is not very tanned but he is several shades darker than deathly pale from standing outdoors in open fields trying to shoot videos under the right lighting or from staying under the sun longer than necessary coaxing a squirrel or some other small woodland creature onto his viewfinder (photography and videography are some of his passions). His eyes are a molten hazel brown and his pupils are large giving him a perpetually wide-eyed look, accentuated even further by a tapered chin. He is thin and slight, and looks to be on the delicate, scrawny side. He bruises easily.
Kina’s clothes often hang off of his narrow shoulders at best. Sometimes they swim on him. In Hogwarts, with the billowing robes and positively voluminous outfits, it is a safe-bet that Kina’s uniform will look ridiculously loose and ill-fitting on him.

Sycamore | Unicorn Tail Hair | 12 inches | Supple

If he were to face a boggart, Kina would be facing himself. A spitting image, a reflection. Only, it wouldn’t exactly be him. It would be Kina in vagrant clothes, Kina with the gaunt look of the way-less and lacking, of those who have failed to accomplish in their lives, who have left nothing for their parents to be proud of. And before his eyes, the boggart in his form would dissolve, until it had faded away, not even a wisp of what once was.

• Ruffles his already windswept hair when frustrated
• Smiles slowly – like a flag unfurling in the wind – when he’s been pleasantly surprised
• Puts his thumb against his lips when thinking

Pureblood

11, born 21 September

Male

It is a well-circulated and true rumour that the Kingston suffer from a centuries old curse: they may bear only one child, thus they are fiercely protective of their own by any mean necessary. Their reputation precedes them and serves as a foremost deterrent to any harm that might threaten their kin. They strive to acquire knowledge and power; their reach is immense. Rumour has it that the Kingston puppet the Ministry of Magic, having had done so for generations, and that they know almost all the secrets about almost everyone in the world. Rumour has it that their curse was cast by Lord Voldemort himself, maybe even Merlin, or the great Salazar Slytherin, which is why they can't break it. Rumour has it that if you cross a Kingston, your entire family will perish overnight - it happened to the Macpherson and the Higgins and the Flanagans.



The curse has shaped each Kingston. Most drastically and recently, Giles’ paternal grandfather, who graduated from Ravenclaw, became a Death Eater in an attempt to use Voldemort’s power. Aeron didn’t succeed in lifting the curse, but the atrocities he committed tainted the family name and worse, marred the memories of his wife and son about him. He disappeared from the common world after the War to spend the last of his withered life at home and passed away surrounded by his loved ones when Giles was one.

While the surviving Kingston have never actively been on the dark side, the spike of notoriety gained was a bonus they use to their advantage; still, they did not want a repeat of the past. Giles was brought up to lead a happy loving life in the countryside mansion with a knowledge of the curse, to accept it was the way they were, but without an imposed sense of duty to break it. But that wasn’t to say they weren’t strict and disciplined about his studies nor did they stress the importance of protecting themselves from the dangers that lurked in every corner. The Kingston intend to maintain themselves as a wealthy, powerful, upper class family, that have been so for centuries, despite their single-lined genealogy. Giles is intelligent and curious, and his passive obedience to his parents and grandmother made him a joy to teach despite his paltry drive to succeed in traditional academia. They hardly had him away from their sides learning about theoretical magic in books and games to etiquette and socialising in any situation. Giles grasped the importance of not only using magic for protection but also social knowledge. He is always polite, friendly to everybody no matter who they were or how they appear and will not reasonably decline an invitation. He can be trusted to keep his word no matter what. On the flip side, he has little sense of loyalty to anyone but his family out of learning from them the utility of people; he doesn’t break the rules nor step out of bounds, not because he’s afraid but due to a murky feeling of danger, of fear and paranoia, his family has instilled in him.

The other strong influence on his character was a brief friendship with a herd of centaurs that lived in the forest beside their land. Giles, intrigued and in awe of these magnificent creatures with their mysterious understanding of the world, honed a sense of honour and integrity not dissimilar to their ethos. The boy’s natural patience in what interests him and learned courtesy earned him the favour of the herd. Their culture further encouraged a sense of self-determination in his endeavours, particularly in creative, outlandish pursuits of knowledge or personal matters of importance. Giles owes a deep seated respect for magical creatures to the time he spent with the centaurs.

Giles is lithe, of average height, with dark brown hair, sky blue eyes that charm with his easy smile, and an unblemished complexion that is hard to tan. He wears a parting gift from his family on his right ring finger that has been enchanted to stay on: the white-gold band was carved out to depict centaurs and the stars, it encircles the centrepiece blue diamond. His dressing style speaks of understated wealth and he presumes to own nothing less.

Beech, Dragon heartstring, 12 inches, reasonably supple.

Fear of injection.

He is descended from a long line of Ravenclaw that had various marriages to other Houses and statuses. Relationships with Muggles were rare though not forbidden.

His parents were Ravenclaw prefects. His father Vincent was an excellent Chaser and his mother Clair a scarily accurate Beater. Grandmother Josephine Waterford of Hufflepuff was not particularly notable except for her marriage into the Kingston family and her steadfast devotion to Aeron even at the worst of times.

He’s straight, 99% sure of it.

Pureblood

11 | August 28 | Virgo

Cis Female

The Dejardin family, at least the most prestigious branches, reside in the north-western department of Mayenne, France. This is where Geneviève of course spent her childhood, in a place where although she could never see the ocean, she always valued the occasional crisp salty breeze that swept up to the manor; since she was young for some reason she had always been interested in water, particularly the sea. While her father constantly committed himself to paperwork for the French Ministry of Magic (trying to hold onto the bit of power that allowed the family to step across the border separating them from middle-class), most of Geneviève's childhood memories contain him located in her peripheral.

Being the only child, the young wizard always enjoyed the doting she received when Léandre wasn't stuck at his desk. His adoration for his daughter was well known by those who surrounded the family, considering they never were very far away from one another. There were whispers that the man was trying to fill in the gap that was left when his wife had walked out on them shortly after Geneviève was born, and they mostly went unchallenged.

Geneviève, although not especially frail, has been ill from a young age. Her sickness hasn't left the young witch wanting of anything-- her father's seen to that-- but it has been annoying. It's made her skin sensitive to the elements-- forcing the girl into long-sleeves and wide brimmed hats whenever she wanted to trawl about outside. It's also made her eyes especially sensitive to light: the Dejardin home is almost entirely lit with lights that can be adjusted with the flick of a wand, or a flick of a switch. Geneviève also has a weak stomach, something that frequently causes house staff to regard her as "picky". An associate of her father's sends monthly parcels of her medicine to the Dejardin home. The doses alleviate Geneviève's symptoms, but are hardly a cure.

For the longest time Geneviève was fully prepared to be heading south in order to attend the prestigious Beauxbatons Academy of Magic-- she had even began doing her own research on the school in preparation. It was where her father graduated from after all; he told her plenty of stories that took her breath away. Tales of nymphs singing to the students and the gardens littered with a plethora of flora that you would only be able to see on the chateau's grounds... Enchanted fountains created out of the mountains surrounding the school. She had wanted to see it for herself when it came time to attend school... Which was why she couldn't help but be disappointed when he informed her that she would be heading to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Scotland instead.

Turning her research from Beauxbatons to Hogwarts, Geneviève was thrilled to see the school that had so much colorful history behind it. However nerve-wracking it was to learn that she heading to an unfamiliar country, to an unfamiliar school, all by herself-- however upset the notion made her-- couldn't deny that she was, in spite of it all, excited.


Resolute | "I do not care 'ow much it takes, I will get it done."


Maverick | "Quoi? Oh, were you speaking of me? I was not aware zat I was supposed to care."


Unbiased | "No matter 'ow popular ze rumor is, zat should not be your basis for a belief."


Resourceful | "Hmmm... Give me time. I can figure it out."


Investigative | "Do you not want to see what it can do?"

Geneviève is a rather petite girl who can usually be picked out a crowd by her voluminous bright red curls; thick red tresses cascade from her scalp, beyond her shoulder blades, before trickling to their end. Some think her hair is the result of a rigorous morning routine; she insists that it just naturally spins that way. The only attention she pays to it beyond anyone else comes by way of the brush she keeps on hand. It's not uncommon for the witch to run its ribs through her hair upwards of eight times a day, in an (ultimately futile) attempt to keep the frizz at bay.

Geneviève's colorful hair clashes with her extremely pale skin-- itself the result of her reluctance to expose it to the harsh wind and sun. Growing up, most people insisted that she stay in bed; her father stuck up for her. He said that she couldn't sit idly by, and let her disease rule her life. In all honesty? Geneviève hadn't much cared. But... something about the fire in her father's eyes when he stepped in, when he railed house staff and friends alike for trying to impose limitations on his daughter made the young witch loathe to voice that.

Many family and friends have admitted to finding her green sallow stare somewhat piercing. Since Geneviève occasionally takes to being silent and watching those around her discuss things that she has no interest in, others who weren't so well acquainted with the small witch had the tendency to get very uncomfortable in her sedate presence.

Ebony | 10 inches | Unicorn Hair | Unbending

This is a wand that knows what it wants and finds that in the young girl handling it. Geneviève actually received her wand a few years earlier than most children do, before they get ready to attend school. Thinking it wise for his daughter to have an edge, Léandre had taken her to purchase one soon after her seventh birthday.

Following several failed attempts at finding one that suited her, a rather strange looking black wand that looked like it had been splintered and then glued back together with a rather odd distinct mixture of gold and silver stood out. The bottom grip seemed as though it was spun by a taffy machine before being placed in the box and would probably bring into question how it would even be held, but Geneviève fell in love with it all the same. In the beginning despite its unicorn hair core, the ebony wand was quite temperamental until the girl began discovering more about herself as a witch, then it started bonding with her much more intimately.

A vaguely milky, semi-humanoid wispy silhouette stalking forward, which at an instant bursts into an encircling flame, then back again, continuously.

Muggle born

11 | October 2 | Libra

Cis male

Andrew's mother, Dr. Amanda Worth (née Hallcrest), was always the more vocal of the Hallcrest siblings. Outspoken and ever-ambitious, Amanda wasn't ever preoccupied with what other people thought. It would be nice for Andrew to say that he took after his mother in that respect; he never knew her well enough to say.

Amanda Worth and her husband John Worth died in the Hallcrest Estate fire of 2013. Andrew's uncle, Alexander Hallcrest-Wyrm, adopted him immediately.

Over the past four years, Andrew's blended as well with the Hallcrest-Wyrm family as one might hope. The transition made as painless as possible by way of an already close relationship with the second youngest Hallcrest-Wyrm girl, Hero. The two were born on the same day, and raised more as siblings than as cousins, even before the fire.

In point of fact, it had been Hero who'd dragged Andrew from the wardrobe he'd been hiding in when the Estate fire strarted. Hero who'd slung her cousin's body over her back when he'd fainted. Hero who'd dragged him to the lawn, as emergancy vechiles tore down the driveway. To say Andrew goes more than a few days without point out his cousin-turned-sister's tendency to live up to her name would be a brazen lie.

Hero and Andrew are more or less inseparable. Which can be a problem when a dispute surfaces between the two; neither of them likes to lose. Their arguments are few and far between; Andrew usually wins. Both Andrew and Hero know from that start that eventually, her temper is going wins out against her ability to form a rebuttal.

It's Hero who taught Andrew about the tides. About the glaciers that shaped the cliffs. Hero that feeds his incessant need to move his hands with $4 trinkets from the pawn shop she frequents, that nobody is hurt by him taking apart.

If you asked him, Andrew'd be hard pressed to come up with a memory that didn't involve his cousin in some fashion. Even during his trek to the Point for his 4AM crab-observations – the ones Hero refuses do with him, because sane people sleep; Hero's the one who showed him the best way to sneak around the fence that bordered the parking lot near the ledge.


Smug | "I told you this was a bad idea."


Cerebral | "Let's worry more about what he said and not how he said it."


Inquisitive & Nervy | "...poke it again."


Determined | "Well, no. Your idea was awful. But say we tried it like this."


Impish | "Trust me, it'll be hila-a-arious."


Squeamish | "I think... I think I'm gonna be sick..."


Competitive & Jealous | "Oh, come on. Anyone could have thought of that."

Andrew is shorter than Hero, but not altogether short. He's lithe though, delicately built – he takes after his father in that regard. His torso's outgrown his body, leaving his arms looking too long when held against his legs. He has curly, strawberry blond hair, and skin that burns too easily.

His lips are full; his teeth slightly crooked. His left incisor's been wedged out of place by a now-lost eyetooth, leaving him with a slight lisp. His father wanted him to get braces; his mother thought it added character. He had her smile, she said. That he'd grow out of the lisp given time, just like she did.

Andrew's eyes are gray, although he squints so often it's hard to tell that they're anything beyond set into slits.

You won't find Andrew without some kind of ugly hat. Gifts from Hero, the lot. She goes out of her way to buy him whatever visually assulting headgear she can find at the thrift store. He goes out of his way to never stop wearing them.

Hats, he says, keep his otherwise unruly, shoulder-length hair out of his eyes, and off his neck. When asked why he doesn't just cut his hair instead of having to constantly stuff it back into a hat, Andrew changes the subject.

His style of dress, hat aside, is more simple than it isn't. A solid colored t-shirt and jeans are the go to. He tries not to get very attached to his clothes; they're ruined too easily.

He wears a necklace Hero made him everywhere. The lace is three bits of packing twine, braided together. A red bottlecap with filed edges dangles from the end. Glued to the silver underside: a field mouse's femur bone-- bleached white by the sun.

The moment Andrew and his cousin stepped into Ollivander's, a box on the far end of the wall all but threw itself to the floor. Ollivander had slipped out from behind the counter and scooped the box from the floor. Andrew had cocked a brow. (Hero had slipped behind the counter and started pawing through cases.)

When Ollivander had plucked the smooth beige wand from its case, it jumped again, nearly out of the wandmaker's hands, toward Andrew. Andrew had his misgivings about being "assigned a wand," but conceded to Ollivander's insistence that the wand had "chosen him," after enough goading.

The wand is rather plain – too short for Andrew's tastes; it fits in his hand well. The shaft is adorned with delicate swirls, more reminiscent of a fern unfurling with dawn's impression than anything else. There's no obvious handle on the thing.

Despite it's eagerness to find Andrew's hand, the wand seems still to have a mind of its own. Rather like it wants to finish Andrew's sentence before he can, and winds up misjudging the word he'd wanted to use. "Ducking useless."

Hero: her back turned, her mouth fixed with a sneer. Rejecting him. Telling him she's only tolerated him because she feels bad for him. That she doesn't need him the way he needs her. That she doesn't love him, after all.

Muggle born

12 | August 31 | Virgo

Trans girl

Nia is a very optimistic, spontaneous and impulsive kid. She's excitable, outgoing, and able to turn any problem into a fun game. She makes friends easily and when she's not running off on her own little fancy she can bend and go with the flow of someone else's idea (granted that it's interesting enough to catch her attention!). She's very much a daydreamer and can drift off into her own world at times. She loves to read, and her tastes can be eclectic- she loves the fantasy genre, but also harbors a strange interest for modern historical nonfiction and random autobiographies. She can be a tad obsessive at times - she has a natural love for learning, and when a particular subject strikes her fancy she'll days or even weeks searching for as much information as possible until she's satisfied and decides there's nothing more for her to learn.

Nia lives with her mum, auntie Asri, and five-year-old brother Dru. Her father left without much warning when she was about seven, not long before Dru was born. From what she tries not to remember, he said something about the "weird stuff" happening around her, that he "couldn't deal with that sh-". She tries not to think about that, really!

A far cry from her departed father, her mum and auntie are absolutely thrilled about this whole magic thing- even if they are a little bit bemused. They've told her about 19 times since she got her letter that they're very proud of her and want to yell about it from the rooftops- even though they can't, obviously, because of the whole it's a secret, thing. All three of them are watching little Dru very closely to see if he exhibits any sort of magical behavior.

Before her letter came she had no stalwart idea of what she wanted to do, or see, or be. Ideas crossed her mind from time to time. Maybe something exciting, like a zookeeper, who got paid to play around with all those huge animals, or an artist, or a boxer - an astronaut- a writer- there was so much she could be.

Since visiting Diagon Alley she'd tracked down as much information about wizarding careers as possible and is researching those avidly - when she's not reading about the curriculum at Hogwarts.

Nia loves clothes - bright, flowy skirts, chunky-knit sweaters, scarves, hairclips, bangles - she basically jingles wherever she goes because she has so much jewelry on. She thinks jingles are a happy sound, even if it annoys everyone around her.

Being raised in an urban surrounding, she's equal parts intrigued and repulsed by nature. She'll coo and coax home a stray cat that's crawling with fleas and missing an eye, but shrieks at any sort of flying bug- even a moth.

(The aforementioned cat was secretly nursed back to health in her closet until auntie Asri found him. When she tried to release the cat, Nia threw such a tantrum that the power in the entire apartment building went off. It didn't come back until the kitty returned. Now he and Niamh are inseparable.)

Despite her girly attire, she's very energetic and is always coming home with rips in her skirts and twigs in her hair from trying to climb the one tree still standing in the nearby park. (When challenged on her impractical dress sense, she points out that shorts don't have nearly the same range of motion as skirts do.) She'd almost have the personality of a tomboy- but would punch you in the face if she heard you say that.

Her palms and knees are constantly skinned from trying to perfect a cartwheel. She's the embodiment of aggressively cares about you. Quick to punch, but quicker to kiss the bruise better.

If asked to define herself, she'd say she's a big sister to everyone- even if they're older or literally bigger (however unlikely that may be) than she. She cares deeply, defends wholeheartedly, and wishes she could be a guiding light rather than a spitfire. She'd say she has a good judge of character - she likes pretty much everyone she comes across, but when she dislikes someone, there's a very good reason for that. (Even if she's not entirely sure what that IS, just yet.) Above anything she's strong-willed and confident- you have to be, when the man of the house is five.

Nia has blue-black hair that hangs straight and tangled when not tied back into a plaited knot by her mother. Her deep-set eyes are a deep warm black, her brown skin dotted with random pockmarks and scars from her many mishaps. Her jaw is slightly square, and her nose is slightly hooked, with a small stud in her left nostril. Her mouth is full and seems to set in a permanent smile. Her frame is tall and gangly, with none of the usual remnants of baby-fat girls her age usually have. Altogether she seems as though she's grown 2 feet overnight, and is just starting to get used to it now.

She normally dresses in bright flowy skirts of thin, heavily patterned material, or tights worn instead of pants, with a plain blouse or tank-top. She wears strappy sandals, innumerable gold and silver bracelets that jingle whenever she moves, and a scarf that seems to migrate; one second a belt, another a shawl, then around her head.

Her prized outfit is the purple-and-gold sari that her mother promised would be hers, midway through her ninth year. She hasn't worn it yet- it doesn't quite fit yet. But she loves to look at it, and is allowed to keep it in her closet. It's the very first pretty thing her mother had promised her.

An impenetrable darkness. Vague whispering in your ear, that gets closer and closer each second.

Halfblood

Eleven ★ July 27 ★ Leo

Female

Upon receiving her required textbooks as a first year, Nova's mother zeroed in on the red leather-bound copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and personally accepted the challenge. She dropped out of Hogwarts during her fifth year in pursuit of this goal, and henceforth adopted the ways of a nomad. There was too much to see to be confined in a castle for seven years, after all. Nova's mother has gone all over the world to see the fantastic beasts for herself, and with Scamander as her guide, find them, she did. Two and a half decades (plus one traveling companion) later, the red leather has worn; the pages of the book faded and marked and filled to the brim with copious annotations; loose sheets ripped from newer versions appended with a clumsy spell; and she has done it.


Nova was born during what her mother liked to call the Hebredian Black Standstill, in reference to the longest period of time she had stayed in one place (a grand total of ten months in one of the uninhabited Inner Hebrides). The night Nova was born was one of miracles, her mum boasted. The stars were restless and uncannily lustrous, as though waiting in anticipation, and there, looming in the horizon, was the elusive Hebridean Black. Nova gave her first cry just as the fearsome dragon roared, and her mum knew she had been blessed.


In the beaten-up copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them that is the Oswin family bible, there's a sheet of paper sticking out from between the pages.

Ingredients for one Zvjezdana:

A dollop of Hebridean Black ferocity,

Don't get her angry, or face the dragon's wrath. Nova is 98% instincts and 3% brain; the makings of a savage better suited to prowl along the Forbidden Forest than to mingle in with society. Raised in an environment where the only distinction is predator or prey and the philosophy is eat or be eaten, she has learned all too well how to fend for herself and those she cares about. When things go south, she is not afraid to resort to more... aggressive tactics.

A handful of Unicorn ingenuousness,

Lack of consistent human contact means she has yet to be exposed to the finer points of social interaction. Nova is susceptible to getting tricked and manipulated, especially if big words are thrown around to confuse her. But a word to the wise: don't let her know she's been tricked. Nova doesn't take well to being fooled.

It's hard for her to pick up on even the most blatant of lies, but she is good at noticing body language; usually, her gut knows when something's wrong but her brain doesn't know what it is.

Three cups of Phoenix tenacity,

Never say never, unless you're saying "I'll never give up." No matter what obstacle is thrown her way, Nova will conquer it. She will get back up each time she falls, dust herself off, and continue marching on. Self-assured and fueled by an absolute belief that she can take on anything, no matter how big or powerful, Nova prefers to be in the brunt of the action than in the sidelines. She will go the extra hundred miles for a friend, and will never back down on a challenge. Once, her mum had jokingly asked for a piece of Leprechaun gold for her birthday, and Nova vowed to get her one. It wasn't until three years later that they ventured to Ireland, but after more than ten hours of pestering one unlucky Leprechaun, she made good on her promise. It disappeared before the day was done, but that didn't matter.

On the flip side, Nova is too proud to ask for help, especially when she is in dire need of it. She will stubbornly force herself through a situation even if the odds are stacked against her. Die trying, right?

A pint of Manticore recklessness,

Act now, think later! As a purely instinctive creature, Nova rarely thinks things through before diving headlong into it, under the belief that she can accomplish anything with sheer force of will (or just sheer force). She relies on her quick reflexes and intuitions above all, and has long decided that unnecessary pondering can only hinder one's actions. Idiotically bold, she is also flippant in the face of danger. This is a little girl who tried to fight a Hippogriff because she was jealous of the attention it got from her mother. Luckily, the Hippogriff was a mother as well and didn't take offense from the seven-year-old trying to hop onto its back and kick at its legs.

Fourteen tablespoons of Pixie playfulness

Nova likes to tussle and roughhouse and go on secret adventures with people she likes, and it is only with them that she becomes openly affectionate. It's easy to get her into a laughing fit, although it would never be from a clever quip--slapstick humor and incredibly cheesy jokes tend to work best. Nova also likes physical contact and gets pouty when deprived for too long, at which point she will start to hover and nudge you until you play with her hair. There's a bit of an issue with her and personal boundaries (read: she has none), and she has to be reminded every now again when she unwittingly crosses them.

Two gallons of Crup loyalty,

Once you have gained Nova's trust, it will remain with you forever. There is nothing she wouldn't do for one she considers a friend, no mountain too high or water too deep and all that. Nova believes trust is sacred, and an act of betrayal is perhaps the worst thing that could be done to her. She will take it to heart, and she will never forget.

Nine kilograms of Human awkwardness,

Oh, Nova. While she can correctly identify the temper of an owl from its hoot, she cannot grasp the convoluted ways of a human. Sarcasm and subtle insinuations fly over her head, and she will most likely take things at face value. Try not to use too many metaphors in one sentence or she'll start to lose track of what you're really talking about. Social cues are also a bit of a mystery to her, and if she ever manages to catch one, she will have to ask for clarification. Most of the time, Nova has to be blatantly told when she's reacting incorrectly or strangely, especially in regards to more delicate matters.

Nova also has the subtlety of an Erumpent on a rampage, and she is as blunt and straightforward as they come, sometimes brutally so. She sees no need for omitting the truth, especially when it only complicates things.

A child of the wilderness, through and through. There's something almost feral about Nova's general gait and demeanor, apparent whether she's graceful and sure and swift, like a predator stalking its prey, or cagey and restless like a wary kitten. The last time she checked, she is as tall as two fwoopers and a fairy, sitting cross-legged and cross-armed and glaring daggers, stacked on top of each other. That means she's grown half a fairy in the last year! She's got skinny arms and legs and a trim figure thanks to all the adventuring she does, and probably from eating only leafy greens and fruits, too. She has bluish grey eyes the color of thunderclouds, and funnily enough, they seem to clear up and look bluer when she's in a very good mood. Her once fair complexion has since become sun-kissed, at least it is underneath the layer of dirt and soot caked on top and the smattering of bruises big and small. Mum wants her to try and stay clean in Hogwarts, but she can't make any promises.

Her hair is long and messy and will stay that way unless someone does it for her, which she really loves. Playing with her hair and petting her head is possibly the best way to soothe her, a good thing to keep in mind in case she goes on a rampage. Nova likes how her mum describes her hair color: caramel on top and honey at the bottom. It makes it sounds really yummy. She has only gotten it cut once in her whole life, and it was by accident. Funny story: did you know a Malaclaw bite gives you bad luck for one whole week? Nova did, but that didn't protect her from getting bitten. On her last unlucky day, she stumbled across a Snargaluff that attacked her hair with its prickly vines and wouldn't let go. She had to cut it to escape, and now her hair ends at her waist instead of her thigh.

For all the keener senses she supposedly developed out in the wild, fashion sense is definitely none one of them. Nova dresses for function instead of form and picks out whichever is easiest to move in. She has a bit of a pickle with the robes for this reason. It's too easy to get it caught on something.

Redwood | Dragon Heartstring (with the tiniest Chimera Fragment) | 12 ½ inches | Supple

When she was nine, Nova and her mother encountered an elderly woman, a retired wandmaker, they'd later discover, living alone in a small hut located in the middle of a forest. Her sight had all but left her, yet she moved about the land expertly, weaving through thickets with ease and warding off dangerous creatures lurking about with a simple swish of her hand. They spent a whole week with her, and she was one of the few humans that Nova instantly adored. While her mother was off tracking down and observing Clabberts during their mating season, Nova kept the wizened woman company. She listened to her accounts of her past, and oh, she had so many wonderful tales to tell that the week flew by in a flash.

The woman, touched that Nova listened with her whole heart, decided to give her a special parting gift. A wand crafted in her image. It had been a while since she made one, and she had been itching to do it again. The woman gathered the materials herself, and Nova was entreated to the spectacular sight of a master wandmaker in action. Even though she could not see, her hands remembered, and the wand was as well-crafted as any she'd seen. If it weren't for the intricately embellished handle, the wand could look as though it had simply been pulled from a tree branch, with its natural, wild and twisting form and crooked tip. The spiral handle is vaguely reminiscent of a dragon's coiled form, and scattered along its length are tiny star and diamond-shaped carvings, forming its very own constellation.

The wand itself is almost like an extension of herself, Nova thought. It fit in her hand perfectly, and seemed to possess a similar temper as her (though that may not always be a good thing). Perhaps most worrying is that it seems to spur on Nova's reckless proclivities. It values raw power over control, and as such, results in unstable spellwork. Doesn't work well with healing spells.

Her mother, except it's not her mother, because there's no smile on her face (or a mouth at all!) and no gleam in her eyes. She is sallow and world-weary and she casts her precious copy of Fantasic Beasts aside like it's nothing. Her touch is not warm or loving but cold and distant, and she looks at Nova with indifference.

★ She must have had a father at some point, but she has never met him. Every time she asks, the story changes. It's even become a little family tradition: before she sleeps, she would ask who and where her father was, and every night, it would be a different man in a different place. A sweet-tempered Hungarian Healer roaming the world in search of cures for the incurable. A tough American Auror who lost his life saving hundreds of people. A misunderstood Welsh Werewolf, forced to live in seclusion to protect his wife and unborn child from himself. She's left wondering if there's some truth to her bedtime stories, but she doesn't mind the not knowing so much. Nova loves the stories her mum weaves, and she'd rather listen to them than force her to tell her something she's not ready to share.

★ Speaking of stories: Nova loves them very much, but she hates reading. The letters get mixed up and jumbled when she stares at them too long and they make the words difficult to understand. It gets frustrating really quickly. She much prefers listening to stories, and will hang onto your every word should you grace her with one. In the same light, Nova learns best by listening and actually has excellent echoic memory.

★ She has a Jobberknoll friend called Rhapsody that insisted on tagging along with her to Hogwarts. He was the fledgling of the Jobberknoll her mum once saved, and he has been attached to Nova ever since he hatched.

★ She's terribly sensitive to the cold.