Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

CHARACTER INFORMATION

Character Name: Samuel Oliveroot
Gender: Masculine
Age: 20 [As Of April 5th IC] Born 1922.

Education: Graduated Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry. . .Gryffindor '41

Residence: Diagon Alley. . .Small-ish Flat, barely affordable.

Occupation: Junior Healer

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place?: Sam will have a connection to St. Mungos as a Junior Healer.

Requested Magic Levels:

• Charms: 11
• Divination: 7
• Transfiguration: 7
• Summoning: 7

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?: Nope!

Please list any other characters you already have at the site: Elliot Blyth, Rodric Medraut.

Biography: (300 words minimum.)

Slender fingers tumbled across polished, off-white keys. Like an fickle breeze, the erratic pace rose and fell. And the low, bellowed notes of the piano tripped over one another like two left-legged dancers, desperate to make sense of the choreography. Swing, that’s what the people had begun calling it. A jazzy sort of improvisation. A crackle of thunder echoed into the ballroom, through the tall, open windows on either side. The sound itself interrupted his playing.

Samuel glanced towards the closed doors, separating himself from the rest of the house. His fingers had ceased their drunken dance. A storm had been brewing, the abundance of grey clouds soaking up whatever sun the planet had once possessed. A flash of lightning eagerly lit the room. The weather was and had been absolutely miserable, and Samuel loves every minute of it.

Child of Lillian Oliveroot and Marius Thorburn, Samuel grew up with two loving parents who cared for him day and night. From a young age, he was perceived as a borderline prodigy in the musical arts. The way his fingers moved across piano keys or guitar strings so fluidly charmed his parents as well as their friends and fellow colleagues. He was their little star, their shiny diamond in the rough.

However, despite his born-talent in the field of music, Samuel never aged into the status of a genius, someone embodying exceptional intellectual ability. His mind became average, but well-rounded still. His movements became clumsier, more so post-puberty. The disappointment itself weighed more heavily on his parents’ shoulders. Their son, who had once been exceptional, had gradually become an average, rather clumsy, man.

They had become less and less over eager to fault him.

Samuel stood from the bench of his piano, brushing himself off as he walked towards an open window, feeling a sprinkle of rain wash in from outside. A small puddle formed on the black and white tiled floor. He kicked the water upward, splashing the wall he faced. He had always fancied the rain. It brought rebirth. It coddled new life. It nurtured.

The door into the ballroom creaked open.

He had been sorted into Gryffindor, another small disappointment in his parents’ minds, although they’d never openly admit it. He knew they had been hoping for Ravenclaw or at the very least, Slytherin. They would drop hints, leave newspapers highlighting the houses’ achievements on the kitchen counter. But Intellectuality, cleverness--the traits had never been his strongest suits. Yet, he could be brave. He had always been courageous.

Samuel turned towards the open door, a warm smile reaching his lips as he observed one of the kindly maid stand in the doorway. In a moment of careless intent, Samuel slipped across the floor as he approached, stumbling over his own two feet. The water his dress shoes had soaked in didn’t help prevent the incident either.

Chuckling, he nodded sheepishly, “I’ll be out in a moment.”

The maid bowed elegantly and turned to leave, a pink fluster across her cheeks as she smiled. He knew she wanted to laugh at his display, at how kind but clumsy a man could both be at a given time. However, she’d have to hold her laughter in until she was clear out of sight. A deep sigh exited his lips, the corner of his mouth twitching downward. Back in England, the Oliveroot Manor wouldn’t so much as dare to have such meaningless rules against women. The world around him made Samuel question why suppression was even necessary.

Up through his schooling years, Samuel became known for his skill on a broom and  his knowledge of the medical field while assisting at the school’s hospital wing. Often, although he was hardly ever caught, Samuel would take herbs from the greenhouses for his own tested brand of potion making. His parents knew nothing of his life outside of his holiday visits and summer stays, long since dropping their communication with him to a scarce number of conversations.

Immediately after graduating, he pursued a healing career at St. Mungos, eager to please both himself and those close to him. His parents mattered not when his relatives cared for him more, regardless of his IQ.

Crossing the room, Samuel took a deep breath and grasped his bag, filled to the brim with strange trinkets and a dictionary full of medical notes and discoveries. After researching in Spain for the past year, he found himself on his last day. He had stayed with a richer man, the one who had generously funded his trip. The man was growing old, had traditional ideals Samuel had never once agreed with, but he was otherwise kind. He wished for an elixir, something to slow his own death. Samuel, however, had been evidently unsuccessful. He had been sent home.

His discoveries he kept with him. Small remedies he hadn’t known before, new herbs grown in the Middle East, potions he had created with months of intricate work. He would never go back empty-handed. He had people to help, people to heal.

Samuel cast one last look at the piano behind him. His parents would be proud, knowing that their son hadn’t forgotten how to play. Another crack of thunder, and he left his music behind.


Roleplay Response:

Samuel awkwardly shuffled past the crowds, leather messenger bag held tightly to his chest as he inched through the bystanders. Briefly, he glanced at his watch, a noticeable grimace taking over his expression. Fifteen minutes later and he would be needed back at St. Mungos immediately.

Couldn’t the man in front of him walk any faster?! Samuel huffed and departed from the crowd, taking a seat on an empty park bench, off from the mass of people in front of him.

The lunch rush was almost maddening, the way the crowds seemed to dart through each other like busy ants eager for picnic food. Samuel had already silently accepted that he would not be eating today, at least not until his next six hour shift was over. Maybe he could raid his coworkers’ drawers for leftover granola bars. That was always the better option.

“Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!”

Out of instinct, Samuel bolted up from the bench, scanning the crowd with a sharp eye. Whoever needed help he certainly didn’t plan to let fend for themselves. The crowd, as far as he was concerned, was vicious and would stop at nothing to retrieve their greasy lunches.

Taking a deep breath, Samuel ascended into the crowd, attempting to gently push people aside as he pulled through.

Stumbling upon the woman, Samuel seemed to melt on spot like a popsicle in the heat. He had never been as strong-hearted when it came to woman. Woman made him...fluttery, sort of. Most of them were too beautiful for their own good, this one hardly the exception.

Clearing his throat, Samuel shouted upward into the crowd, “PART THE RED SEA!”

Perhaps that wasn’t what he had planned to say, but it was the first thing that had come to mind. It certainly gathered the crowd’s attention. “I--I mean, move around us, please and thank you!”

Kneeling rather hastily, Samuel offered the woman an apologetic hand for keeping her waiting. Her heel did indeed seem broken, and he secretly wondered why on Earth she decided to wear heels on a cobblestone path.

“Grab hold, I don’t bite,” Samuel said sheepishly, encouraging her to pull herself up, “Does your ankle feel alright? You’re not hurt, are you?”

Nervously, he added, “Uh--Samuel,” He cringed at his full name and corrected himself, “Sam, just Sam, really.”


OTHER
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