Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

---

---

→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Cecelia Bramston

Birthday: May 23 1938

Hometown: London (Isle of Dogs) Bromley South East. The East End of London, was heavily bombed during the WWII and little has been done to clean up so far. Close-knit communities with large families crowded in with one another in housing tenements. Cecelia is used to the rather claustrophobic atmosphere, where witches and wizards live covertly amongst their muggle neighbors.

Bloodline: Halfblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Charms

Magical Weakness (pick one): Divination

Year (pick two): First (preferred), Second

Biography:
There was enough wood for a proper fire that night. Celia suspected Thomas had used a bit of their food money on the extra fuel. Her gut twisted, what would they do later in the week for food? Then it occurred to Cecelia that food would no longer be a problem - for her at least. The way the twins told it, Hogwarts was positively bursting with delicacies - as much as she could ever want! House-Elves to cook it all and magic to deliver it to the waiting students. She’d dreamt of it, on some of their leaner summer nights. Tables groaning with food, a hall greater and grander than anything she’d ever seen.

As for her family, here in their shabby two-room flat far from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. . .mother didn’t eat more than a bite or two a day, and only then under duress from Thomas and Ewan. Father drank his meals. Ewan usually ate at the pub, leftovers nicked off of patrons plates cleared to the kitchens. As for the twins (Kieran and Finlay, who weren’t actual twins but Irish twins - born 11 months apart, inseparable and nearly identical as it was) who knew how the twins got their food. Some days they would be generous, coming home with pockets bursting full of sweets - toffees and fudge flies and licorice wands which they might share with Cecelia, if she was lucky. Other days they would come home smelling like their father. As for Thomas, lean, tall, patient Thomas, the eldest of the Bramston brood; He ate last. Always last, and always the least. Dark eyes watched over his siblings and their parents, counting knuts and checking the flour tin, the milk jar; the downward twitch of his eyebrows the only betrayal of worry on his otherwise stoic face.

Thomas was sitting in the threadbare armchair near the fire, smoking. Cecelia hesitated a moment, just outside the ring of light, waiting for her brother to notice her. As always, he did, and as always, he cocked his head to the side in a gesture of beckoning. “C’mere,”.

Cecelia perched herself on the low footstool in front of the chair, the warmth of the unusually large fire washing over her comfortably. Thomas ground out his cigarette in the overflowing ash tray that occupied a side table littered with discarded knitting, newspapers, and general household detritus. “Don’t be nervous about tomorrow.” Her brother said as he began to braid her hair. Strong hands, calloused and etched with dirt and soot from his job as a shipyard laborer down at the docks, were surprisingly gentle and adept at smoothing her light brown locks into a tight braid. Cecelia was too old now to have her hair braided by anyone, they both knew it, but there was a certain comfort to the old ritual that both siblings sought that evening. “I’m not.” She replied, a beat too late and an octave too high.

Her trunk was packed. The same one her brothers - Ewan, Kieran, and Finlay - had all used. Probably the same one her mother had used, too, come to think of it. The minimal trappings of her little world all folded neatly, hardly filling a quarter of the ample packing space. Clothing and what trinkets she had, a bent quill and a half-dry pot of ink, and laid carefully, lovingly, atop it all - her wand.

They had saved for months, even the twins had chipped in. It was beautiful. Rosewood, with an unusual duel core of Unicorn Hair and Dittany Stalk.11 3/4 inches. The wand maker had described it as graceful, and springy. When Cecelia waved it for the first time a cascade of snow-white stars had showered from it. Ewan beamed at her proudly before handing over the galleons to pay for it. Afterwards he’d bought her an ice cream.

A tangle in her hair tugged, Thomas paused to brush it out with his fingers like he used to do when she was little. The door banged open and shut again, footsteps and a strong smell of tobacco and stale drink announced the arrival of their brother, Ewan, the second oldest son. Cecelia sat up, Thomas’ hands paused. “You’re home early!” She exclaimed as Ewan shrugged off his cloak and came to stand beside the rotted, dusty mantle. A barkeep at the Grinning Grindylow in Knockturn Alley, Ewan was rarely seen after 7 in the evening or before 1 in the afternoon. “Had t’see you before you left for Hogwarts, didn’t I, little sister?” Ewan explained, lighting up a cigarette as he spoke. “Not nervous, are you?” He asked, echoing Thomas’ words a moment before. “No.” Cecelia replied, this time a bit more vehemently, her lie slightly more convincing.

Ewan continued, “Good, because you’re going to have to get to the train station by yourself tomorrow.” He broke the news matter-of-factly, but Cecelia’s heart dropped. “What? I thought you were going to talk Kieran and Finlay into taking me?!” She leaned forward only to be tugged back by Thomas who was tying off her braid. Ewan shrugged and tapped some ash into the fireplace. “I didn’t see ‘em today. Thought they’d be all over a morning at a crowded train station, plenty of pockets waiting to be picked…you’ll just have to manage.” Cecelia didn’t argue, but she felt a prickling behind her eyes. Balling her fists up in her lap the girl willed herself not to cry. Suddenly Ewan was kneeling in front of her.

“Buck up kiddo. You’re a Bramston. Besides, you don’t want to be showing up with those tossers anyways. They’d probably try and get you to smuggle some doxy eggs for them again.” “Acromantula eggs.” Cecelia corrected, her voice quivering a bit. Class A Non-Tradable Material, and her idiot brothers had told her she was just carrying a bag of stolen quaffles from the local club. It was a good thing a muggle policeman had caught her and not a wizard from the Ministry. She still didn’t know what ended up happening to those eggs…though Fin and Kier had told her she’d lost them a fortune; more upset about some gold than the fact that their 9 year old sister could have ended up in Ministry custody for dealing in illegal goods.

Thomas had gotten up and put the kettle on, Ewan stole the chair and Cecelia scooched the footstool to the side so she could see him better. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and be sorted into Slytherin, like me. That should cheer you up.” Ewan said. “I don’t think anyone in our family is keen enough to get Ravenclaw.” He added wryly. “Mama was a Ravenclaw,” Cecelia reminded him. “And Father was in Hufflepuff.” She continued, “You were a Slytherin and the twins were in Gryffindor…we’ve covered all of the houses!” she counted them on her fingers.

Cecelia had memorized as much as she could of her family’s admittedly short acquaintance with Hogwarts, for none had graduated. Her mother had dropped out in her 7th year, her father in his 5th. Ewan made it the 6th, and the twins in their 4th and 3rd, respectively. “What house do you think you would have been in, Thomas?” Cecelia asked, turning her gaze towards their eldest sibling who was now pulling three chipped mismatched cups from the shelf. He didn’t answer, and Ewan shot her a look.

Tea was offered. No sugar or cream, but then they were used to it that way. Three siblings, the two eldest and the youngest, gazed at the fire as they drank. In the other room their mother slept, as she always did; in some pub halfway across London their father slumped over; Kieran and Finlay took bets on a fight between a Mackled Malaclaw and a Fire Crab in some loud, dingy basement room.

Much later, their sister asleep, the two brothers spoke. “I hate for her to have to go alone tomorrow,” Thomas began, “She can’t be seen with you Tom and you know it. That’s no way for her to start at Hogwarts. You don’t know what it’s like there.” Ewan cut him off in clipped tones.  “She’s got enough working against her as it is, much less having a SQUIB for a brother.” A long moment of silence passed between them, the two men with so much responsibility on their young shoulders; they were the bookends that held the family together, albeit barely, but hold it they did.

In a slightly gentler tone Ewan added, “She’ll be fine, Tom. She’s the best of us all, you know. If any one of us has a chance…” Thomas nodded, resolute. “I know.”

MOTHER Teresa Hazel Bramston ne. Balfour, age 39, born 1910, Ravenclaw, Dropped out in her 7th year
-17 when she had her first, 28 when she had her last
Parents: Marcus and Lavinia Balfour
Former homemaker, current invalid
FATHER Melvin Willard Bramston, age 46, born 1903, Hufflepuff, Dropped out in his 5th year
-24 when he had his first, 35 when he had his last
Parents: Willard and Edna Bramston
Former Owl Post employee
ELDEST BROTHER Thomas Balfour Bramston, born September, 1927 (age 22)
Squib
Shipyard laborer on the Isle of Dogs
SECOND ELDEST Ewan Willard Bramston, born January, 1929 (age 20)
Slytherin, dropped out in his 6th year
(attended Hogwarts 1940-1946)
Barkeep at the Grinning Grindylow (a tavern in Knockturn Alley)
THIRD ELDEST Kieran Marcus Bramston, born August 1931 (age 18)
Gryffindor, dropped out in his 4th year
(attended Hogwarts 1942-1946)
Delinquent, street hustler
<”The Twins” 11 months apart in age>
FOURTH ELDEST Finlay Melvin Bramston, born July 1932 (age 17)
Gryffindor, dropped out in his 3rd year
(attended Hogwarts 1943-1946)
Delinquent, street hustler

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.

House Request: Gryffindor (preferred), Ravenclaw

Personality: Being so young, Cecelia is very much a product of her environment which has created in her an odd dichotomy of loyalty and distrust. Observant, shrewd, reserved, she is keen at reading social cues from others and acting accordingly. Coming from a rougher neighborhood (to say the least) than most students at Hogwarts, Cecelia is bound to feel out of her element and intimidated by the change.

Appearance: Small and skinny, less so because of inherent body type and more due to lack of abundant food growing up. She stands at just over 4 feet tall. Long, wavy light brown hair, pale blue eyes, pale skinned.

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
Option 2:
So it turned out that Herbology was a much more interesting subject than Cecelia had realized. Growing up in the East End, she hadn’t exactly spent her childhood smelling the roses, so to speak. ‘What’s there to learn about plants?’ the girl had thought, wrinkling her nose at the sight of aforementioned subject on her course schedule. Turns out - a lot!

A scroll of parchment was unrolled over her knee, a pot of ink on the dirt next to her, quill poised just above the surface of the paper, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated; blue eyes fixed intently on the plant before her, a rather ugly thing that resembled cauliflower and seemed to be pulsing gently. Deciding that some curlycue squiggles would best represent the texture, Cece made to start her diagram when - !!!!

Something akin to an elephant trumpeting made her jump so high that she spilled her pot of ink and splattered the blank parchment while she was at it. Another eruption of violent sneezing (for that’s what it was, she realized, heart still racing) revealed a boy who seemed to be knocked on his rear from the power of his nose.

“Can I help you with something? It is not polite to stare.” He accosted her immediately. Taken aback, Cecelia (who was indeed staring) gaped at him before her mouth puckered fussily in response to his tone.

“You can help me clean up this mess you caused!” She snapped back in response, gesturing to the wasted ink and ruined parchment.

→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have on the site (current and previous): Edmund Wolffe, Genevieve Woods

How did you find us?: returning player.