Application for Hogwarts School
→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.Name:Mikhail Sergeyevich Vasilijev
Birthday:December 13th 1933
Hometown:Small family-owned town in Siberia, Russia
Until recent, Mikhail’s residence shifted between his family’s castle in Siberia and the family estate in Southern France, and Durmstrang during the school year. Now his residence is to be Hogsmeade and (hopefully) Hogwarts.
Bloodline: Pureblood
Magical Strength (pick one):Charms
Magical Weakness (pick one):Divination
Year 3rd (#1 choice), 4th year (#2 choice)
Biography: Mikhail tapped his wand impatiently on the desk in front of him. Technically he wasn’t allowed to use magic outside of school around here, which he thought was quite ridiculous. A child’s education should start in their younger years, to prep them with a proper foundation before attending school. Thank Merlin that was what his family believed, and how he was taught back home in Siberia where the Russian ministry not only tended to be more relaxed with their family tactics but had little jurisdiction over his family’s village. And so his parents and grandparents had educated each of the Vasilijev children from the moment they could walk and jump on a broom stick.
The Vasilijev’s practice in magic is what some would call…questionable. It was common knowledge that Mikhail’s parents believed in the rights of a wizard being able to practice all magic, and determine their own restrictions without Ministry interference. And while they didn’t openly practice Dark Magic, one would be daft to believe they didn’t behind closed doors. Not that anyone would be able to prove it, mind you. So they instructed their children with the same school of thought and therefore, when Mikhail attended Durmstrang for his first two years of magical education, he had already acquired the same magical ideology and a foundation of basic magical skills.
Both of Mikhail's parents were well educated lawyers and had long standing careers in law and politics. His mother both served as Council to the Russian ministry and was head of a well-respected law firm that his maternal grandfather, Darren Lashae, had created. The Vasilijev children had always been encouraged to stand by whatever their beliefs were, although it was silently expected that they would be in line with the family’s (i.e. his parent's and grand parent's) values. And really, they did for Mikhail, although personally he thought his parents could be strong with words but lacking in action when it came to promoting change of thought. In some cases he even felt his own ideologies to be a bit more radical than his parents. But then, this was from the point of view of a thirteen year old.
And now he and his mother had moved to Britain after the Ministry here hired Nellavie as a lawyer within the Wizengamot, and Britain apparently did things in a different way. No under-aged magic, certainly no Dark Arts, and no magical freedom. For now. After all, the past decade had proven all of the wizarding world to be rather… weak and unstable in Mikhail’s young eyes. So for now he would have to learn to adapt.
The boy's emerald eyes peered intently at the reporter in front of him, who watched the wand in his hand twirl. He could see their curiosity of whether a thirteen year old would dare put the wand to use, and thrived on making the other man uncomfortable. His mother and he had barely been in Britain for two days before a Ministry reporter requested a sit down with the Vasilijev family. Nellavie had brushed it off, saying she was too busy for such nonsense while knowing quite well that the interview would try and pry into a family who valued their privacy.
Today he had been on his way to meet his mother for lunch when this vulture of a reporter overheard him say his name and immediately requested to interview him. Since they couldn't get ahold of his mother, apparently they thought they could trick a young man into...something. Well, Mikhail was bored and thought the day was due for some entertainment and had agreed fairly easily. There was nothing else to do around this place. Besides, the questions they asked of him could be submitting just as valuable information as any answer he was willing (or unwilling) to give.
“I apologize. What was the question?” the boy asked of the reporter, who shifted uncomfortably in their chair.
“Are you…ahem…to be attending Hogwarts come September, and do-do you think you will be in the same house your parents were in?” the question repeated.
“Ah. Well it’s not really up to me, is it? More up to the grace of Hogwarts and the Sorting Hat to decide. It would be an honour to attend though.” Mikhail replied, stressing the word honour almost a little too much. His parents had graduated from the house of Slytherin, with his mother’s side having been a long line of Slytherin graduates. The intention was, indeed, for Mikhail to attend Hogwarts come September - but there was still a few months before he would find out about his acceptance.
Having been born December 13th, 1933, Mikhail was now thirteen and had submitted application to Hogwarts in hopes to start his third year in school come September. His grades at Durmstrang had always been excellent and, with his parents being Hogwarts alumni, he doubted if he would be denied admission; unless it was for political reasons against his combined French and Russian heritage. But his mother now worked for the British Ministry, and the Ministry held control of Hogwarts, so he doubted whether his heritage would be an issue.
When Nellavie Vasilijev had been asked to consult for the British Ministry, Mikhail had seen an opportunity. Although he had established a circle of friends and respected the Durmstrang education, quite frankly he felt little affiliation to the school. Sure he would miss their lax restrictions on the practice of Dark Magic, which was possibly one of the reasons his parents had sent him there, but Hogwarts had always been a curiosity to him. Britain had closed its borders at one point, become secretive, and had been watching their family for ages. In combination with his parent’s history at the school, Mikhail had always been interested in attending. And so he had asked, and was permitted, to accompany his mother to their long-owned and very dusty estate in Hogsmeade. In his head, this was to be an exciting new game just waiting to be played.
Mikhail had always been a confident, calculating individual driven by curiosity and his own personal amusement; a child enchanted by charm, wit and mischief. He regarded others to the extent that they were his comrades, giving loyalty only to those whom he knew well. He was generally respectful in attitude while he assessed a person’s character to determine whether they deserved continuing respect.
His calculating nature could sometimes be seen as cold or manipulative although it is not always his intent. Being one of the younger children in a large family, and one who was of high social standing as well as under constant scrutiny, Mikhail learned to observe very well and keep his mouth shut when. The tilt of one’s head, a shift in eye line, wringing your hands; the body could often betray one’s emotions far better than words could. And Mikhail found amusement in playing off people, curious how far he could push them or investigate what would make them tick. To him life was a game, where everyone and everything was meant to be played; even if they weren’t aware of it.
This did include himself at times as well. Mikhail constantly pushed his own abilities to their limits, which turned out to be a learned response from his natural personality in combination with the pressures of his family. He by no means thinks himself to be perfect nor above everyone (well, perhaps above some). The boy recognizes faults in himself, has even had many be pointed out by his older siblings who kept him in check. He is constantly striving to live up to his older siblings and his family name, being the hardest upon himself whenever he falls short of his own expectations. So while he is confident in himself, he tries hard to walk the line between that and of cockiness. Only sometimes does a toe slip over.
“Does the rest of your family plan on visiting London?”
Mikhail refrained from scoffing, the intent behind the question all too clear to the thirteen year old. Mikhail and his mother weren’t visiting, they were staying. And the reporter wanted to know if the Vasilijev’s were going to become Britain’s problem again. Honestly, this man wasn't even being subtle anymore.
“Have you ever been to Russia?” He asked in response, his voice holding a distinct Russian accent, perhaps mixed a little with French. Still, his English was very clear. When the reporter shook his head, he continued. “It is very cold this time of year. The land is infertile and in some places you can get frost bite within thirty seconds of stepping outside your door. But whether or not that inspires my family to venture, who knows. I hope they would come at some point to visit. The people here are very friendly.” The last sentence was in mocking, although said with such subtly that it could have just been just the language barrier.
Setting his wand down on the desk in front of him, Mikhail shifted forward in his seat, motioning to straighten his tie even though it wasn’t out of place. No, he wasn’t likely to be found in a disheveled state, except perhaps after a heated Quidditch match. Eyes were always watching, and he always made sure to look the part of a wealthy and well-bred young wizard. He was polite and cultured, having been brought up to understand his mother’s French heritage as well as his father's heritage in Russia. He spoke both languages as well as English and he always dressed the part his family wanted him to play. It was all part of the game, and he loved to play.
“Let us cut to the real interesting questions I’m sure you are really wondering, shall we?” His voice was silk, leaning in to talk lower as the reporter’s eyes widened with interest. He was drinking in everything Mikhail had to offer. “I’m sure you’d rather know where my family has really been the past ten years, hmm? Whether or not the Or-”
The door of the room they were in burst open, swinging on its hinges and bouncing off the wall behind it. The reporter jumped in fear and Mikhail hung his head in disappointment. Damn, game over for today.
The look his mother gave him sent a chill down his spine He would no doubt be hearing about this for some time that evening. If he was lucky, she wouldn’t tell his father. That was one thing he appreciated about his mother (for his own sake anyway); when it came to her kids, even if she was strict, she did have a soft spot. Sergei did too, according to his sisters, but Mikhail had never seen it.
The quill the reporter had been writing with burst into flames, as did the parchment that had recorded the interview so far. The woman didn’t have to say anything at all to get Mikhail to stand, swipe his wand from the table and tuck it within the pockets of his robe.
“Well that’s all for now I suppose.” He said, pushing his chair back. “Sorry ‘bout that.” Was the last thing he said with a small half-smirk, nodding toward the ashes on the table where the reporter’s quill and parchment had once been, then walking out the door without a glance back. Nellavie shot one last look at the reporter, who was frozen to his chair in fear, before following her son out the door.
Guess he'll have to play again another day.
→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.House Request: Slytherin, or Ravenclaw…. or if the admins really see him in a different house, I’d go with that too.
Personality: Mikhail is driven by curiosity, wit, mischief, charm, and sometimes manipulation. He views life as a game where everything and everyone is meant to be played. He is charming, likes stirring the pot, pressing buttons, and can get very passionate when things don’t go his way. His temper is fairly difficult to set off, but when it is, it is a force to be reckoned with. Mikhail can also be the biggest critic of himself, knowing he has a strong family name to “live up to”, that pressure and stress often being one of the few things that can push him over the edge.
Appearance:Mikhail is very well kept with the fashions of the modern day. His family’s wealth has always kept him dressed in the best cloths and he is almost never seen in a dishevelled state. He was raised within a world of socialites, and certainly looks the part.
Physically, he takes more after his father’s build, which is more athletic. His emerald eyes were also passed to him from his father, but his dark hair was inherited from his mother, although runs a bit lighter than hers.
→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.Please reply to one of the Sample Roleplays below.Mikahil cringed, stretching his arms out and up behind his head. He twisted his torso in an attempt to release his tight muscles. He had played Quidditch back home since he was old enough to clamber up onto a broom stick, racing against his siblings who had not played softly simply because he was several years younger. He had also played on the Quidditch teams at Durmstrang, where students could be quite brutal and un-sportsmanlike in their attempts to win. Needless to say when Mikhail came to Hogwarts he had (wrongfully) assumed that the students here would be….soft in their skills.
After their last match, however, Mikhail had been nursing a dislocated shoulder and a bruised rib, of course having been too stubborn to go to the hospital wing. He supposed he should give credit where credit was due – Hogwarts students had more fight in them than he had expected.
This stubbornness, however, left the thirteen year old in retreat of sitting on the hard benches in the Main Hall which only made his back ache more. Making some excuse to his housemates about not being hungry and taking to the outdoors, he let made his way to the gardens before he let out a sign of relief.
Walking the pathways in his own world, attempting to run a kink from his side, he startled when something zoomed across the path in front of him. Small, furry, and clearly glad to be running free. The boy glanced around, hoping no one had seen him jump at such a small creature and thanking Merlin that no one seemed to be around.
"You blasted rat! Where are you?"Mikhail arched an eyebrow as he turned toward the voice, caught off guard to see a boy appear before him looking clearly dishevelled. Mikhail’s lip couldn’t help but automatically curl in disgust at the look of the boy who was rubbing snot on his sleeve - an instinctive reaction to something so uncouth.
"Can I help you with something? It is not polite to stare."The look of disgust lingered on the boy’s features, who couldn’t care less about coming across as rude.
he had just been walking the paths after all. He was quite within his own right. But, if this boy was going to be so impolite to Mikhail, he saw no reason to point him in the direction of his rat. In fact, he felt quite the opposite.
“No, you can’t help me with anything,” he started, “I was just clearing out some vermin from the gardens. No worry now, I’ve disposed of it. Never did like rats much.” His Russian accent slid off his tongue with an air of distaste. He watched the boy closely for a response, interested in what his reaction would be.
→ ABOUT YOU.Please list any characters you have on the site (current and previous):(way, wayy back when)…. Nellavie Vasilijev, Ambre Rouziech, Annette Aylett, Makenzie Brixton… some others I don’t remember.
How did you find us?:Google
