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Messages - Lizbet Robbins

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Application for Hogwarts School




→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Lizbet Robbins

Birthday: 20th August, 1939

Hometown: Spofforth

Bloodline: Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Conjuring & Summoning

Magical Weakness (pick one): Divination

Year (pick two): 1st, 2nd

Biography:

"Mam! Mam! MAM!" Lizzie Robbins came skidding around the hairpin turn at the top of the stairway, nearly overshot the narrow doorway she needed, and only just managed a sudden juke to the right to reach her mother's study without face-planting into the upstairs hall window. "Mam!"

"For heaven's sake, Lizbet, I'm doing the accounts. Can it wait?"

"Mam, Da said to tell you-" Lizzie broke off mid-sentence as she spotted a creamy white envelope sticking sideways out of a pile of at least two weeks' worth of mail on her mother's desk. "Is that it?!"

"Is what-" Dorothy Robbins turned to follow her gaze, mystified, but Lizzie had already darted across the room and yanked the envelope out, letting the already-unstable mail pile topple sideways to cover the desk. Bartimaeus, Mrs. Robbins' owl, half-woke up from his perch above the desk and hooted irritably, shaking his feathers and going back to sleep.

Lizbet Calpurnia Robbins
3rd-Floor Bedroom
2 Witchazel Lane
Spofforth, North Yorkshire


"Oh, that," Mrs. Robbins said, spying the envelope. "You see? I told you it had to be somewh-"

She was cut off again, this time by a loud, high scream. Lizzie was dancing in circles around the small study, threatening several other wobbly piles of paperwork. Still squealing, she raced past her mother and out of the room, down the hall to a window that looked out over the back fields.

"Go suck eggs, James!" she cried, flinging the window open and almost hurling herself out of it in her haste to wave the envelope at the neighbor boy, three years her senior and five times too big for his britches. "I told you! I told you Lizzie Robbins is no squib!" She blew a loud raspberry out the window, but barely had time to see James' rude gesture in reply before she was bodily hauled back by Mrs. Robbins.

"Stop making scenes, and give me that," her mother scolded, snatching the letter from her hands. "Term starts in three days, and I need your list of supplies if we're to get everything in town. Oh, good, the books haven't changed yet," she added, crisply unfolding the pages from the envelope and quickly scanning them. "Mrs. Mulwood says we can have James' first-year books, and a few of the robes he's grown out of - don't make faces, Lizbet - and your father's cauldron is still in the attic, but we'll still need to get you your wand. Go fetch your sister and your Da - where is that man? He should have been in from tending the geese by now, and if he's not finished yet, we won't make it to the shops before they close."

"Oh!" Lizzie had adopted a sullen slouch while her mother went on and on, but straightened back up to attention as she remembered. "I near forgot - Da sent me up to tell you that the containment charm on goose-yard fell apart again, and they've made it halfway across the damn county-"

"Lizbet! Language!"

"It's what he said, Mam. And he said he'll be in late for dinner, but that's okay, because cottage pie has never really been your strong suit, but that I needn't mention that bit, and that..."





→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
Quote
The dungeons. A place eleven-year-old Evangeline had not yet travelled since her arrival at Hogwarts.

A place she really was just fine with not knowing; but it was too late. The dare had been accepted, even if it had been done in fear of being kicked out of Gryffindor, like the older girls had said she would because Gryffindors were supposed to be brave.

The air changed instantly when she hit the main corridor of the dungeons. The dampness was almost too much for her and she instinctively took a deep breath to avoid the sensation of being suffocated. There was also a sour burning smell which Evangeline assumed was from many, many Potions lessons.

Further and further she walked, her steps so slow and gentle they made no noise against the stone walls and floor. The feeling that she wasn't alone crept up her spine and raised the tiny hair on the back of her neck. Shivering, Evangeline wrapped her arms around herself. Suddenly, she missed the warmth and comfort of the Gryffindor common room. The fire was always going and it made her feel at ease.

Why had she let those girls talk her into this? She was only eleven, she didn't have to be brave. Surely the Headmistress would not kick her out of Hogwarts for not being brave.

If only she had these thoughts while being dared to search for the ghost of one Emma Birch, whom supposedly haunted the dungeons. It was not, Evangeline had learned, the place where the sixteen-year-old girl's life had ended but as she had been from the house with a snake as its mascot, it was the place her spirit had returned to. That common room was down here somewhere, she'd been told.

Something - the small blonde girl wasn't quite sure what - but something made her stop in her tracks suddenly. There was a low, dull thumping noise. Or maybe that was her heart beating so loudly she thought it was coming from outside her body.

"H-h-hello?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Remembering that she was supposed to be brave, Evangeline tried again.

"Hello! Is Emma Birch here?"

The sound of her own words bouncing back at her off the walls made her jump.


Lizzie was a genius.

While all the other first-years were wasting their time getting lost and being late to classes, she'd done the one thing no one else in that lot would ever think to do in a million years. She'd made a map.

Maps were easy, really. You didn't even have to be good at art. Just draw boxes for rooms and lines for halls and little squiggly bits for stairs... Of course, the stairs always changing complicated things somewhat, and she was starting to suspect the halls and the rooms weren't always the same either, but that was just details. She'd make someone teach her a charm later to make her squiggles follow the real stairs, like real drawings were supposed to.

Maps were all about the bigger picture, and she was really good at that. She'd even thought to put a large, blocky "N" at the north side of the map so she didn't accidentally hold it upside down (again). Of course, she wasn't a hundred percent sure which way north actually was, so she just put it at the top because that's where it always was on other maps.

So while all her classmates were busy wandering off who-knows-where, all she had to do was follow her genius map, and it would lead her right to... the south tower?

Hmm.

Lizzie was still learning a lot about castles, but she was reasonably certain that most towers weren't underground, and the corridor her map had led her to had a distinctly underground-y feel to it. It was something about the scent of the air, the quality of sounds, and the fact that she'd been going down various staircases for what felt like forever.

Okay, maybe her map wasn't 100% genius. She'd fix it.

First, she had to find herself. But not like what Da meant when he went off into the woods with his fishing pole and a tent and a whole bunch of Brewer Jones' new lot. She had to actually find where she was. Lizzie crawled up into an alcove, sat at the feet of the statue currently occupying it, and spread her map out in front of her - it encompassed several pages at this point, and she kept forgetting which order they were supposed to go in - to try and suss out where she'd gone wrong.

"H-h-hello?" she suddenly heard from somewhere nearby. Lizzie leaned out of her alcove and peered up and down the corridor, but no one was in sight. She was on the verge of opening her mouth to call back, when the voice came again, but louder.

"Hello! Is Emma Birch here?"

Lizzie clapped both hands to her mouth to stifle a giggle. Emma Birch?! That old story? Anyone afraid of ghosts was patently ridiculous, to Lizzie's mind. Most of the stories weren't true anyway, and the ones that were... Who had a ghost ever hurt? They couldn't even touch you! The worst they could do was lecture. Lizzie's own great-great-great-aunt showed up every new moon to whinge about walls that weren't there in her day.

Moving as quietly as she could, she gathered up her map and slipped behind the legs of the statue she was sharing her alcove with. Cupping her hands around her mouth to give it an echo-y sound, she called out,

"Hellloooooo! I ammm Emma Biiiiirch. Whooo callllls meeee?"


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