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Author Topic: Peter Copeland  (Read 28 times)

Peter Copeland

    (14/11/2017 at 23:26)
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E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

Character Name: Peter Joseph Copeland
Gender: Male
Age: 37
Blood Status: Muggleborn


Small house in Liverpool, UK


Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the Ministry, Shrieking Shack) or to take over an existing shop in need of new management?
Hogwarts Herbology Professor

Requested Magic Levels:
Adult characters have 32 starting levels to distribute across these four categories (less levels can be used if you so desire, but no more than 32). The number of levels on the lowest ability must be at least half of the highest ability.

If you want levels above the usual 32 total, or a significantly uneven distribution of starting levels, please fill out and submit the Special Request form here.

  • Charms: 15
  • Divination: 1
  • Transfiguration: 3
  • Summoning: 15
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
  Peter Copeland is a muggleborn wizard born on December 2nd, 1913. His size and frame now was very much the same when he was little, very tall and chunky for his age. He was born into a heavily religious Welsh muggle family in Liverpool who didn't directly approve of anything to do with magic. His mother, Beryl Copeland (née Oakes), was a housemaid with a hardy attitude, and could make every ha'penny last. As all mothers do, she had a real soft spot for her only child. His father, Earnest Copeland, was a soldier in the first war, and died when Peter was only a few  years old. With his father gone, Peter and his mother moved in with Beryl's brother and his large family for financial support. A small, cramped wooden house secluded from most of society in the fields of Liverpool.

 As a child, Peter loved to be outdoors,  particularly a small garden him and his mom tended to, which seemed to be the only way he could get peace and quiet among the masses people inside. From Peter's cousins' point of view, Peter looked weak, so whenever he was outside, they soon followed after a while to tease him for doing "sissy" things, but they would lay off him on Sunday and Monday, since it was the only time his mom would be around the garden with him. The rest of the time she would need to spend working to provide for him as all the adults did. He would always stand his ground and fight, but would ultimately lose since he was often outnumbered. This started coming to a halt when Peter was around 9 years old when a strange occurrence happened. One afternoon, Peter's cousins were relentless with their torment, and were getting worse by poking him. Peter had every intention on fighting them like he usually does, but right when he turned his furious gaze toward them, handfuls of manure seemed to fling itself at his cousins without him even grabbing them. Peter's cousins were too busy covering their faces to see it wasn't Peter throwing the fowl manure, nor was it Peter when entangled roots began to rise a couple centimeters off the ground to trip them as they ran back into the house. As peculiar as it was, Peter couldn't help but laugh uncontrollably. Nothing like this happened again but strange events kept happening, like the fire in the chimney would flare immensely if he would laugh a little too hard, or a plant close to dying would be beaming with health at his touch. What seemed to be the strangest out of all of this was that Peter was the only one noticing these things.

  At 10 years old, Peter got mail that was meant to be delivered to him specifically. His family not believing children could receive mail, as they had no job, it was given directly to his mother, Beryl. She opened it to reveal an old peace of parchment saying that an institute known as Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry would be accepting him for their next school year, beginning Sept. 1. After reading all its contents, she ripped it up and put it in the fireplace thinking it was someone playing some joke. It wasn't until the letters started coming everyday that Beryl began to take it as a sick game someone was playing on her, but before she went to the authorities, she noticed the strange amount of owls surrounding her brothers house in broad daylight. Magic was seen as something evil to her religion, But what she wanted more than anything in the world was the absolute best for her child. Eventually, Beryl put her sons needs came before her own morals, and she told Peter what he was. He immediately couldn't believe it at all, but after a few minutes all those strange events that happened to began to make sense. The week before Sept. 1 came around, and Beryl with her son went all around London to follow the parchment's instructions as much as they  could, following those who they overheard talking about some of the things they were looking for until they found themselves surrounded by families looking for their necessities for their children's school year at Hogwarts. On the day Peter was to leave for the Hogwarts express, Beryl sat him down and struck a deal with him. The deal was that he was to tell anyone who wasn't his mom that he was attending a fancy boarding school in France, and that when he came home, anything having to do with Hogwarts will stay out of the rest of their family's site in fear that they would demonize Peter for his magic.

  Peter's time at Hogwarts were the best years of his young life. He was, like all the first years that were with him, a nervous wreck when they were being sorted, most kids muttering to themselves that they hope they join a specific house, Peter, towering over every first year, just stood unsure to what house he would belong to. When it finally came for the Sorting Hat to be placed on Peter, it felt that Hufflepuff would be a great fit for him but also felt that he would excel in Gryffindor. Peter looked directly at the Gryffindor table and instantly knew where he belonged, and the Sorting Hat feeling his desire placed him in Gryffindor house. People gravitated to him cause of his size, and even more so when they found out he was muggleborn. Throughout the years, he excelled in his classes Charms as well as Conjuration more so than others, enjoying his effortless success at making items come to him from across the room at his whim, but his shining glory was always spotted in Herbology, which was his closes reminder of home. Classes like Divination and Transfiguration were what he bombed at. Peter always managed to pass Transfiguration by the skin of his teeth, and no matter how many tea leaves he saw he couldn't see anything more than blotches in a teacup.

  After his final year at Hogwarts, Peter wanted to explore the world more. He had decided to pursue a career in herbology. His goal in life was to make his own encyclopedia of magical flora all over the world. Be it winning against fighting a Snargaluff for pods, forgetting to secure his earmuffs completely when repotting Mandrakes (where he got partial hearing loss), the world felt like it was his oyster until his mother passed. It was February 7, 1939 and snow had piled up in mounds around his uncle's old home. Beryl was cremated and her ashes scattered in the garden that belonged to her son and herself, and she continued to take care of after her son left, as stated in her will. Attached with it as well was £500, an old photograph of him with his mother, and a note that stated, "I know it isn't much, my love, but with this I give all that I have to my name. His uncle, stricken with grief, was more than willing to honor his sister's wishes, but with his own kids living their lives with their own families, and his wife leaving him, he no longer felt that there was a place for him at his own home. Rather than selling it, he thought it be more fit if Peter took ownership of his childhood home. Peter accepted all these possessions and stayed in his old home where he currently resides to this day by himself. Eventually, Peter dream encyclopedia was forgotten and a new dream was realized. He wanted to build a magical plant nursery to house the garden, something artistic and peaceful with his childhood garden based at the center.

  His joy slowly managed to take back the place where his grief was, as time went on and he continued to build and plant. Peter never wanted to change a thing about the home outside of the nursery but wanted to make the nursery itself as large as he could get it. The coming years began to bring more loneliness than the nursery brought joy. He remembered that sharing his garden with his mum was also what gave him passion for plants. He began to think, "What if he was able to teach about his passion, and spread that same joy to children just like him?" Another aspiration grew inside him: to be able to teach about Herbology and give his knowledge to the next generation. With his nursery soon to be completed, he plans to open a shop to sell what he grows to the public that way he could spread his love of plants to all other people without them having to read about it in a dusty book.


Amelia Nixon was many things, but she was never a pushover reporter that people could just usher away with a busy shuffle past. She was dedicated and eager to cut to the very middle of the current political tensions because she was Amelia Nixon and her articles would most certainly become front page material.

“Sir, please! It’s for the Prophet, how do you feel-“

Another one brushed passed her, the shuffling busy masses making their way through Diagon Alley for the lunchtime rush. This had been the best possible time to get people, but none of them were giving her anything to go with.

Only momentarily discouraged, the short red headed lady took a seat on a nearby bench. Her quill resting in her left hand and her notepad ready in the opposite hand. Amelia pouted, tapping the quill against her leg as she scanned the waves of people for somebody - anybody - who looked like they had something to say.

She had been dreaming of her name in bold print, Amelia Nixon: The Source of Today’s Tomorrow. She had been dreaming of the larger office and the secretaries that would fetch her the morning coffee and fetch her anything she needed. The VIP interviews and the most exclusive press passes. But all Amelia had was a page seventeen piece on the rising number of frogs in London.

Hardened by a day of no success, the reporter stood up and started to trod off down the alley. A loose stone on the cobble path caught her heel, sending the distraught girl toppling down to the ground.

“Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!” she yelled as she tried desperately to recover her shoe frantically in the middle of the Diagon Alley moving crowds.

Roleplay Response:

  To Peter it was a normal day in Diagon Alley. He looked around at all the shoppers enjoying their day, him being a few inches taller than most of the people in the crowd. He passed by the vacant location he's been eyeing at for a couple of days now to where he wants to station his store when he gets the licensing, and his eyes glistened with ambition. As he was about to put his hand on the glass to get a better pick inside, he heard a woman screech in pain.

  The woman who was shouting from a distance was nowhere to be found but he heard her voice still pierce through the masses, begging for help. He nudged his way through the crowd till he managed to get to where she fell. He blocked the rush of people that were walking in her direction with his back and held out a hand to her. "Let me help you up. Got to be careful where you fall cause these fart catchers seem to have the comPASSION OF A RIVER TROLL!" he said, his voice escalating so the crowd could here.

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