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Archived Applications / Vega Nettlebed | Returning Hogwarts Student
« on: 11/04/2019 at 10:09 »
Application for Hogwarts School
→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Vega Violet Nettlebed
Birthday: 10:43AM on 23 March 1939 (age in 1956-57: 17/18)
Hometown: Bristol
Bloodline:
Muggleborn / Halfblood / Pureblood / Unknown
Magical Strength (pick one):
N/A -- dropout levels.
Magical Weakness (pick one):
N/A -- dropout levels.
Year (pick two): 7th (preferred), 6th
Biography: exactly three years after this.
00:01am. monday 23 march 1956.
Seventeen was quite a few teens. Seven, to be precise.
This time four years ago, she'd been embarking on her great escape, taking care to avoid the creaky floorboard that lay two inches from her bedroom doorway, taking care to avoid the creaky stair that was sixth up from the bottom, and taking care to avoid any other potentially creaky aspects of the farmhouse as she'd stolen silently through the darkened rooms and slunk out of the back door.
This time three years ago, she'd been curled up in a pile of blankets on her bed in her dorm, and thinking -- as she so often did late at night when everybody else was asleep -- about how her father had proved to be one hell of a disappointment.
This time last year, she'd been curled up in a pile of blankets on her bed in her dorm, awake but pretending not to be, and wondering how long it would take for Maria Téodora Wittington's nightmares to start, how long it would take this time for her to leave her own bed for her best friend's.
Tonight, there was no embarking, stealing, or slinking. There was no thinking about her father. There was no Téo to wait up for.
There was simply Vega Violet, six thousand miles away from home, in a dormitory that still, after seven months, didn't feel quite right. It was missing something--no, someone.
Blue eyes blinked in the blackness.
She wondered if Téo had sent her a birthday card.
06:57am. monday 23 march 1956.
She couldn't remember the house number. Was it 75 Grimstone Street or 57? Maybe it wasn't even Grimstone Street at all. Maybe it wasn't even London.
No, no, she was panicking. It had to be London, and it had to be Grimstone Street, and it absolutely had to be house number 57, because she recognised the blue door.
She knocked. She waited. She knocked again. She waited some more.
Nobody came to the door.
Vega stepped off the path and onto the front lawn. The curtains were closed across the big bay window, but there was a crack of space between them where they hadn't been drawn properly. Through it, she squinted.
She promptly wished that she hadn't.
She could only see the back of the boy's head, but his height -- or lack of it -- meant she knew exactly who it was. The taste of jealousy swelled, bitter, on her tongue. Téo Wittington broke away from kissing Calvin Sharppe just long enough to look right at her.
A smile, not wholly unlike the one Vega had given Nashira last summer, shattered through the glass.
--------------------
The shrill sound of her alarm pierced the air.
Vega's eyes flew open. For a moment, she thought she was back at Hogwarts. But after she blinked back the dream, the maroon and gold that characterised her dormitory back home dissolved into Castelobruxo's replacement.
She glanced automatically across at the bed beside hers.
Téo, unsurprisingly, was not in it.
Her gaze shifted involuntarily to the picture on her bedside table. It was a poor replacement, but it was all she had.
10:42am. monday 23 march 1956.
She was supposed to be researching the traditional uses of cinchona bark in healing potions. From a distance, it looked as though that was exactly what she was doing, for she had the stack of relevant volumes piled up on her left, and she even had one open on the desk in front of her.
Closer up, though, she was fooling nobody.
It wasn't the textbook that she was looking at, but the pressed viscaria flowers she had left on its open pages.
God, she hated him.
10:43am. monday 23 march 1956.
She shut the textbook.
The next person to open it would find, on the two hundred and seventy-sixth page, several dried viscaria flowers, their petals all torn to shreds.
→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.
Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.
House Request: Gryffindor, please!
Personality: prefers cats to people; potions extraordinaire; doesn't trust feelings -- her own or anybody else's; actions, not words; holds a grudge; nettles by name, nettles by nature.
Appearance:
blue eyes. golden-brown hair. freckles, lots of them. kind of lanky. keeps her nails short and her hair long.
Face Claim: Abby Bush.
→ RETURNING STUDENTS.
Link to your last levels request (if you never posted one, link to your last accepted student application): x
Number of New Levels Requested: 4
New Levels Request: C10D8T8S6
How your character kept up with their studies: She's been on a Herbology exchange programme at Castelobruxo in Brazil for the past year.
→ 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 II:
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."
It was at times like this that she missed Brazil the most.
Nobody at Castelobruxo would have ever deemed it appropriate to be trampling the flowerbeds in search of...whatever it was this oaf was searching for. And if they had, they would have found themselves looking at a week's worth of detention pretty damn quickly. From where she sat in the grass just a little way from where her fellow student was wreaking destruction, Vega sighed.
Perhaps, she thought, she would let Arlo Mason know how well-maintained the grounds were back in Brazil. Perhaps then, she thought, though she suspected it was unlikely, he would be more inclined to do something about idiots like this one.
She might, despite her feelings on the matter, have left the boy alone, if he'd had the decency to do the same. He didn't, of course.
"Can I help you with something? It is not polite to stare."
"God, Hugh."
Blue eyes stared with pointed disapproval.
"Has anybody ever told you how disgusting you are?"
→ ABOUT YOU.
Please list any characters you have on the site (current and previous): Calypso Ross & friends c:
How did you find us?: Recommendation
