Application for Hogwarts School
→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.Name: Daphne Estelle Pernille
Birthday: January 2nd
Hometown: A big bustling city that she doesn’t care to remember, but now the English countryside.
Bloodline: Muggleborn.
Magical Strength (pick one):Divination
Magical Weakness (pick one):Conjuring & Summoning
Year (pick two): 1st, 2nd
Biography: In years past, lavender found its way under
Dorothea’s pillow and honeysuckle splayed like prayers between her fingers.
Herbs are a difficult catch in the city. It’s a feat just trying to navigate through the smog, trying to dodge hoity-toity sirs and dames, but
Doris made do with the skills she had stuffed haphazardly in her pocket. She keeps her eyes open and takes out each talent one by one to sharpen them up, of course, she’s a jack-of-all-trades, one of the boys. She wasn’t one those mouse girls tucked in a street corner, begging for money and ribbons with a pitiful flutter of their frozen lashes. She wasn’t.
It was the life
Danielle lived until she was nearly eight years old, and it was one
Deborah was quite fine with until that
Bellona came along.
“What’s this?”
A pamphlet. Those rotten kids made a freaking
pamphlet.Daphne found it crumpled in a tree hollow, titled
THE SYKICK ROUND THE BEND in bold red crayon. God, and they couldn’t even spell “psychic” right. She didn’t have enough patience or alyssum for this. See, Daphne had been totally right when she told Bel that they shouldn’t move where there were stupid country folk doing stupid country things like living off the land and government resources. Oh, that
Bellona.“C’mon, blondie, spit it out.” She tapped her foot just to get her impatience across.
“C-can’t you read?” stuttered poor little Mary-Alice Honeycutt. Oh, Daphne could, but not even a man with eagle vision would be able to read this ATROCIOUS HANDWRITING AND MISPELLING. A scowl and a glare and a raised hand later, Mary-Alice explained that it was all in jest. “B-but, that psychic you live with, she’s different. Haven’t you noticed?”
“She puts tomato sauce in her scrambled eggs, of course she’s different, you dumbo,” Daphne scoffed.
Behind her back, she dropped a single basil leaf to purify the forest of stupidity.
A creepy baby, a buttercup-yellow living room, and overpriced readings for horoscopes.
Damaris had no choice but to admit that this Bellona was one weird lady.
Pushing away her third cup of tea, the girl shook her head and briefly met Bellona’s puppylike gaze. “You don’t need to do this for me, miss,” she mumbled beneath a new itchy scarf. Curse this hospitality. “I’m just a kid. A street rat. People don’t care for us--”
“Pish-posh!
Wait did I use that right?”
Oh god, she used the word
pish-posh. “Um.”
“If
my baby had ended up in the streets,” tiny Marmara blinked slowly, sleepily, at the attention, “I’d save him in a second. No! Less than a second--a millisecond! What’s smaller than a millisecond, hmmmm…”
By then,
Dora had turned her attention to the moving pictures of Marmara on the walls. A handful of gold coins spilled out of a velvet pouch on the kitchen table. The blinking matryoshka dolls sitting primly on the mantelpiece.
Donna was frightened. Better yet,
Diane was intrigued.
“Can I live with you, miss?”
“Oh! I was hoping you’d say that, I need so much help around here, D--” Bellona shut her mouth so abruptly, stilled so quick like a living statue, that Daria was scared that the magic was too strong here. It had ruined its maker, and her own herbs would not be enough. Pennyroyal. Peppermint. Rosemary. Valerian. A small gasp paled her complexion like the fog of her own breath in winter.
“What’s your name again?”
She blinked and pressed a piece of yarrow between her palms. “Da...phne.”
Sometimes she thought how
Deidre and
Delia and
Delilah were way better names than
Daphne, but Bellona was so easily confused by her moving identities that Daphne had no choice but to stay as Daphne. Unfortunate. So unfortunate.
Still, Daphne crushed a sprig of oregano beneath her nails and wished such negative thoughts away. She had a middle name and a baby brother now, and she had to be happy.
“You want to go?” Bel asked softly.
Daphne stared down at the letter.
Dear Ms. Pernille, we are pleased to inform you…And to think that she thought she was a Jones this whole time.
“I do,” she whispered. “I really, really do.”
Angelica, bay, chamomile. Bellona left the room and returned with a pack of cards in one hand and the house cat in the other.
→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.House Request: Up to the hat.
Personality: A mostly no-nonsense girl with extreme devotion to the magical uses and symbolism of herbs, enthusiasm to learn everything about magic, and loyalty to Bel Fioralba, the woman who saved her from the city. She has a rough exterior but is easily whisked away by promises of mysticality. A sort of survivalist by nature.
Appearance: Brown-skinned, curly-haired, freckled, and short to boot.
→ RETURNING STUDENTS.Note: This section is only for students who have been previously played at Hogwarts. Please see here for more information about Castle Dropouts levels/how many levels you are eligible to claim.Link to your last levels request (if you never posted one, link to your last accepted student application): N/A
Number of New Levels Requested: N/A
New Levels Request: N/A
How your character kept up with their studies: N/A
→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character. Remember, you can only roleplay your own character's actions, not Evangeline's or Hugh's. Option 2:That rat of his was in for it now.
The gray little rascal had disappeared from his clutches at breakfast. Again.
Before Hugh even knew what was happening, Merlin had shot across the floor, somehow managing to avoid all the feet walking across the hall and had escaped through the open doors.
Which meant that Hugh was now stomping through rows of flowers and other various flora, searching for the small creature. It was like the rat knew Hugh was allergic to most flowers. Merlin always chose to run to the gardens whenever he got away from Hugh. It was as if the rat did not want to have him for an owner.
Hugh had named his pet Merlin because he had hoped the powerful name would give the rat more incentive to be more than a rat. Not that he expected Merlin to change into a wizard or anything, but rats were just so...useless, for the most part. With a name like Merlin, Hugh thought it might give the rat purpose.
The only purpose Merlin seemed to have was getting away from Hugh as often as possible.
As the fifth year trudged into the second row of flowers, not taking much care to avoid trampling the first row, he felt the first sneeze building up pressure in his nose and behind his eyes.
"You blasted rat! Where are you?"
He pulled apart a section of bright red flowers; he didn't know what they were called because he despised flowers, and ducked his head low to peer into the depths of the flowerbed. It was moving closer in proximity to the flowers that finally did it. Hugh took in three great breaths and then let out an almighty sneeze. It was strong enough to disturb some of the dirt on the ground before him.
Groaning, he stood up again and wiped his nose on his sleeve. It was as he was turning his head, his nose running up and down his arm, that movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Normally one who preferred to put his best face forward, Hugh was a bit embarrassed to be caught wiping his runny nose on his robes.
Nevertheless, Hugh put on his best haughty voice. albeit a bit thickly with his plugged nose and said, "Can I help you with something? It is not polite to stare."
Hogwarts had multitudes upon multitudes of herbs. Much of them in the dungeons where potions bubbled with a pungent smells, many in
la clinica where broken bones were set and student lives saved, a lot a lot a lot growing in the greenhouses where sunlight filtered in on broken clay pots. It made sense anyway, for where else would you find them?
(Daphne’s book bag, for example.)
Now she searched the gardens, wondering if it was only pretty flowers and trees or if there were surprises between the crystal leaves, and Daphne was having quite a bit of luck. Herbs could be anything, really. Lemon, black walnuts, celandine, holly. Today, she’d written a letter to Bel with samples of herbs she found pressed against the pages.
Daphne bent down to pull a flower from its host and held it close against her eye. It might have looked a little silly from afar, seeing a girl appraise the value of anything that grew from the earth, and for that, she laughed. Saffron, blue as violets with waves of red sticking out, held that power. Plucking a few more, she pushed them into her flowing pockets and went on her way.
The next thing on her list was marigold, and that would be an easy find. Daphne turned a corner and--
oh.“Hello, ma’am,” she nodded at the rat that now crossed her path. “Lovely day, isn’t it.”
Deep in her heart, Daphne was screaming.
She blinked as it scampered away, and trusting the intuition of such curious animals, Daphne followed despite her still screaming heart. “Where are you going?” The girl sped up in increments, following the ever-so-wise rodent, until she nearly ran over a stupid boy wiping up snot with his sleeve as the rat scurried past. GROSS!!!
"Can I help you with something? It is not polite to stare."Still traumatized by his act of utter depravity and wickedness, Daphne screeched, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a handful of two things: ginger root for the cold and beans to ward off evil. If you hadn’t guessed, she threw them in his general direction and hoped they hit them square in the nose with the ginger going first and the beans everywhere else. “BEGONE!”
→ ABOUT YOU.Please list any characters you have on the site (current and previous): Bel Fioralba
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