Application for Hogwarts School
→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.Name: James Owen Peakes
Birthday: 1 May 1936
Hometown: Banchory (wizarding village, Scotland)
Bloodline: Halfblood
Magical Strength (pick one): Divination
Magical Weakness (pick one): Charms
Year (pick two): Fifth (1st choice), Fourth (2nd choice)
Biography: James was one half of a boy-girl set of twins, though his sister didn’t survive infancy, born to James Morrigan and Morissa (Fraser) Peakes, and affectionately went by Owen (his middle name) most of his childhood to avoid confusion between he and his father. In his mother’s family since the early 13th century, Cairnbulg Castle was the home in which Owen spent his younger years with she, his father, and maternal grandmother on the far side of the -shire from the wizarding village of Banchory in northeastern Scotland. Since the disbanding of its quidditch team in 1814, Banchory hasn’t been known for much of anything and hasn’t produced any notable witches or wizards in its history (beyond the truly terrible and reckless players that precipitated their team’s demise).
Seven months old at the time warp, Owen’s exposure to Scottish society by his traditionalist gran failed to imprint. Too young then to remember either the older, more querulous rendition of the woman or his sister, Owen was nevertheless immersed in the peerage when his challenged heritage was at last accepted by his muggle great grandfather and -mother shortly before their deaths in the Fraserburgh air raid on 5 November 1940 by German forces.
Years later, his then-19-year-old grandmother, engaged to a soldier in the RAF and pregnant with his child, lost her would-be husband in the last air battle in Europe off the coast of Aberdeenshire (where Cairnbulg Castle, Fraserburgh and Banchory are located) on 21 April 1945. In her grief, Owen’s mother and father were asked to respect privacy and distance while the daughter she now knew she carried was permitted a childhood with some modicum of normalcy.
The landscape of royalty in Scotland changed forever by the end of the war, and the boy found himself dislodged from all but a claim to lands and income bestowed on him before his great grandparents’ deaths. At nine years old, the governing was given over to his father.
James senior, a pureblood from northern England, was an ambitious socialite who had been disowned by his family for marrying a mudblood. Regardless of his fall from favor amongst his peers initially, his deteriorated influence was now coming full circle. For his work in and dedication to the forgotten arts, the elder Peakes accepted a position at the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Mysteries.
Recalling trips into Banchory with the man in his pre-pubescent years, Owen had been intrigued with the ideals that some types of magics left marks not only in history but on the land or individuals who practiced it – that there were objects so powerful not even the most notorious witches and wizards had been tempted by their use. His father’s extensive collection of cursed books, all of which he’d been forbidden to handle, had been moved to the office at the Ministry. Expensive artifacts found or purchased on the man’s trips abroad, too, were missing from their village property. What purpose any of these items had, Owen wasn’t sure. But this, more than anything, influenced the path the fifteen-year-old had chosen in the years of study prior to walk. Secrets. Mysteries. All the unknown appealed, and though his own aptitude at Divination (and as a medium) was fledgling in comparison to what he aspired to the young man was determined on his course.
Detoured at the beginning of the summer, when his mother was remanded into custody by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Owen’s resistance to enrolling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was adamant. Distractions were a concern, left to his lonesome as a homeschooled student until now to progress as he chose. Not to mention the secret kept within the immediate family of his sensing spirits, growing stronger with his magical advancement. Concerns and anxiety, though the boy was incredibly cool-headed, mounted. The molly coddling was done. The life he’d recklessly sought in the unknown came out of the darkness to greet him.
*(Royalty reference: The Frasers have an inherent title as Lord Saltoun, created in 1445 and passed down through the generations. Owen's great grandfather would have been the 20th Lord Saltoun, and he the 23rd (after his grandmother and mother). With his grandmother alive and young in this timeline, however, it's unlikely he'll ever come into the title unless something untimely happens to her. At present, I'm not considering any plot to that effect.)
(Aside: Owen isn’t known for spellwork with his wand and must exude extra diligence to do well in classes that use wands regularly for large-effect spells. Charms is difficult for him because it has ‘big bangs’ and flashy outcomes. Despite peer pressure (likely) to do otherwise, he’ll spend hours in the evenings getting a better grasp on his wandwork because he’s more concerned with life after school than being popular during his time there and has been counseled on which grades would be acceptable for his chosen career path. His interests lie in Divination (mediumship, **for which I'll submit a special request), Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Potions, and magical artifacts.)
(Aside-Aside: For backstory purposes only, I was considering having Owen's mother be responsible for his great grandparents' deaths. The air strike was the cover. With memories being jumbled after the warp, being convinced by her husband that it was for the best (namely to protect Owen's future), she'd have felt less guilt than usual killing people she couldn't clearly recall. The secret was kept for eleven years, until Owen's father began to work himself back into wizarding society. Removing his mudblood wife from the family would help to achieve status in his old circles and perhaps allow him to return to his collect his inheritance from his family as the sole heir. Owen is unaware any of this is happening, though I think he'd eventually figure things out with the help of court records and things.)
→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.House Request: Slytherin or Ravenclaw
Personality: Persistent (sometimes confused with ambition), Determined, Patient (with curriculum); can be aggressive (when goaded), inflexible, and self-indulgent. Used to getting attention for his appearance and chooses when to take advantage of it. Works hard to achieve the goals he’s set himself. Separately, his demeanor is easily charming in a lazy, neglectful way. Groomed to be comfortable in uncomfortable situations (descended on both sides of the family from well-to-do ancestry), he can be sardonic when he recognizes ignorance in others and often foregoes further companionship from those who frequently abuse his sensibilities.
Appearance: 5'10" at 15 years old (height fully grown will be 6'3"), athletic build, reddish brown hair, blue eyes, capable of facial hair but usually clean shaven for the era.
→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.On first sight some days past, the castle’s flying buttresses, sky-high towers, and lofty dormitories hadn’t been at all what Owen was expecting. Everything, down to the thestral-drawn carriages, was a departure from the norm for the halfblood Scotsman. With a passing knowledge of Hogwarts from his father’s perspective, lately told and vague for his disinterest (a Slytherin in his day), the fifteen-year-old hadn’t been bothered to concern himself with a history or recounting until days before his leaving for camp at the end of the summer. Staircases that moved, secret passageways, school houses – Owen waded through the first week of classes with the knowledge of pre-read text books without being drawn out or called on.
The potions dungeon was deserted but for him, as he’d requested time to prepare a girding potion for later in the term when studying for O.W.L.s would keep him occupied long hours into the night. The class was one he excelled at and producing the extended stamina draught was child’s play, stoppering five vials of the greenish, foul-smelling liquid and sealing them with wax to dissuade tampering.
Cleaning up after himself and preparing to leave, loading things into his school bag to the soft thumping sounds of material buffer, the voice outside of the classroom scarpered chin toward the door. Setting the cauldron in on top of his book, giving the bag a rectangular false bottom, the hesitation lasted only seconds before he’d shouldered the strap over open fronted robes. Tie askew, pulled loose, the slacks and neatly done-up buttoned white shirt he wore beneath the formal attire was no less so and had him on a level of put-togetheredness that others couldn’t hope to achieve so casually. Arriving in the doorway unannounced by scuffing or general loutish behavior, Owen’s eyebrows drove slowly toward his hairline. Staring at the back of the wee lass, he’d look off down the hall in the opposite direction. Then return.
With one hand on the dungeon door and the other on the jamb, he’d ask in thick but discernible accent, “Who’s Emma Birch?”
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