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Topics - Tawnie Smallweed

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Archived Applications / Tawnie Smallweed
« on: 01/12/2019 at 00:09 »

Application for Hogwarts School


Name: Tawnie Cora Smallweed

Birthday: 20 June 1947

Hometown: Hackney, London, England

Bloodline: Pureblood (just about)

Magical Strength (pick one): Charms

Magical Weakness (pick one): Conjuring & Summoning

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


“S’just you and me tonight, then, T.”

That’s Alfie, my biggest brother. He’s pretending like he wants to spend his evening with me and not like he doesn’t have a choice because Thea’s working and Jere’s—well, Jere’s Jere and he figured out earlier than Alfie did that if he got his excuse in first, he wouldn’t be stuck with babysitting me.

“You ain’t gotta stay,” I tell him, because he doesn’t. I’ve stayed at home by myself before now. But there was a break-in two houses down last week and someone got knifed and now Thea thinks I’m going to get kidnapped or worse.

“I want to stay.”

He doesn’t. He wants to go out to a cheap pub somewhere and cry into his beer over Marjorie Withersnap. That’s what Jere says, anyway.

I shrug, “Okay, then.”

“So,” he forces a smile that I see right through, “—what d’ya wanna do?”

I think for a moment. Then, “Can we get fish and chips?”

He laughs, pleased. Fish and chips is easy. All he has to do is pick it up from the shop at the end of the road. That’s why I chose it; you can’t expect Alfie to do much these days. He’s only really good at drinking. That, and passing out on the sofa at two in the morning.

“Yeah, we can get fish and chips.”

“Good. I’m gonna be in my room, okay? ’Cause I’m drawin’ a picture of Joan for Phee, and it ain’t finished yet. She said she’s gonna stick it on her wall!”

Alfie’s not listening anymore. He’s too busy rooting through empty bottles in the liquor cupboard that he already finished weeks ago. I go back upstairs.

“Happy birthday, Tawnie.”

That’s my biggest sister, Grace, but she doesn’t really count, because she left home—

(“Grace’s too good for us,” Alfie likes to joke; “Grace can piss off,” Jere says.)

—when I was just a baby, so I don’t really know her.

“Thanks, Grace.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

Then, “How old are you now?”

“I just turned eleven and next year I’ll be twelve!”

“Yes, that’s generally how it works.” Another pause. “Well, happy tenth birthday.”

Eleventh birthday!”

“Right. Eleventh. Sorry.”

It’s not actually my eleventh birthday. That was two days ago. I don’t tell her this. Instead, for the second time, “Thanks, Grace. Did you know that ’cause it was my eleventh birthday, I got my—”

The phone line crackles.

“Look, Tawnie, I’ve got to go, but tell Alfie everything’s fine over here and I hope you’re all okay, and happy birthday again, and I’m sure we’ll talk soon. Alright? Alright. Bye.”

She hangs up before I can tell her that I got my Hogwarts letter, and before I can say goodbye back.

“Tawnie, just eat your damn peas.”

That’s my biggest sister, Thea—the one that counts.

She’s kind of like having a mum, but only if your mum was younger than all the others and was actually just your sister instead. I don’t know my mum, so I can’t say if Thea’s better or worse than a proper mum, but she’s pretty good most of the time. Apart from when she’s making me eat peas.

“I told you before, I completely hate peas.”

“I don’t care if you hate ’em, you’ll bloody well eat them if they’re on your plate.”

“But Jere ain’t eatin’ his.” I point out.

“If Jere’s the example you’re gonna follow in life, you ain’t gettin’ nowhere fast, let me tell you that now.”

Jere doesn’t even look offended. Instead, he flashes a grin at me from the other side of the table and flicks a pea from his plate onto mine. “Yeah. Listen to your sister.”

Him and Thea have been arguing for years now. I guess the insults stop sticking after a while. Or maybe he just knows she’s right this time.


Thea glares.

I eat the peas.

“So! What! Do you! Think?!”

That’s Phee, sister number three. She talks like that, in exclamation marks. I do it too, sometimes, but she does it always.

She just moved to Brighton a few months ago. The house is emptier without her, but Cece who’s her best friend but also Jere’s girlfriend (they both say she’s not, but I’m not stupid; I’ve heard them in his room before) sometimes drives me down to see her at her new house.

“I completely love it, Phee.”

She’s just redone the kitchen. I don’t know where she got the money from, because she isn’t a proper millionaire actress yet like she’s going to be one day. But when I ask her how she paid for it, she won’t tell me. Her and Cece exchange a glance over the top of my head. Cece changes the subject:

“Why don’t we go to the park and get an ice cream?”

She thinks she’s subtle. She’s not, with the ice cream or with Jere or with anything else.

The look I give her says as much.

“Okay, but I want three scoops this time.”

“You can always call or write to me if you need to.”

That’s my brother, Micah, but that was a while ago now.

He left right after he finished Hogwarts, which is probably for the best, because I don’t think either him or Jere could have stood sharing a room with each other for much longer without one of them (definitely Jere) killing the other one.

I haven’t called or written to Micah, but he hasn’t called or written to me, either.

Maybe he’ll come home for Christmas. Or maybe he won’t.

“Piss off, Tawnie!”

Yeah, that one’s Jere, if you didn’t already figure it out.

If I had a penny for every time he told me to piss off, I’d be able to buy my own house and piss off for good.


That’s Cece again, trying to calm him down but keeping her distance. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed with his head in her lap and his hands in hers before, but then he jumped up to yell at me when I came in, so now she’s trying to pretend like they weren’t doing whatever it was they were doing.

I told you she wasn’t subtle. Neither of them are.

“I was just gonna ask if you wanted dinner!” I narrow my eyes at him. There are marks all up his wrists. “Did you get hurt at your job again?” I don’t miss much, and so not only do I catch those red marks on his wrists, I also catch the tiniest twitch of Cece’s smirk at my question.

“S’none of your bloody business—get out!”

“Have you told Thea yet?” She’ll be angry if she finds out. She thinks he’s going to get himself killed. She’s probably right. She’s usually right. And he’s usually doing something he shouldn’t be.

“Get out, I said!”

I’ve definitely won this one, if the fury in his gaze and the smirk still on Cece’s lips is anything to go by, even if I’m still not entirely sure what’s going on.

I get out.

permission to powerplay Alfie Smallweed, Althea Smallweed, Ophelia Smallweed, & Cecelia Bramston granted by respective players.

Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.

House Request: Slytherin

Personality: Tawnie Smallweed knows what she wants. More importantly, she knows exactly how to get it. Having grown up in a household full of liars and thieves, she learnt the tricks of the trade early on; she can weasel her way out of a difficult situation as easily as any one of her older siblings—the only difference is that she rarely lets herself get into those situations at all. In many ways, she is forcibly reminiscent of Ophelia,  too loud, too dramatic, too much; but there is undeniably something of Jeremiah in there too, present in a keen gaze and an ability to edge her way out of a room. It’s impossible to forget her...unless, of course, she wants you to.

Appearance: A Smallweed through and through, she’s pale-skinned and long-limbed—scrawny, some people might call it, though she’s never missed quite so many meals as the rest of her siblings. With the same brown eyes and the same brown hair as the rest of her family, it’s quite clear that Tawnie belongs.
Face Claim: Dafne Keen

Option 1.

Tawnie Smallweed was jumping.

Specifically, she was jumping up and down on the third step from the bottom of the staircase that led down to the dungeons. There was a reason for the jumping, because there was always a reason for everything that Tawnie Smallweed did.

Today’s reason was that she had been reliably informed that the third step from the bottom of the staircase leading down to the dungeons occasionally opened up into a secret passageway that led you right out of Hogwarts and straight into Greenhouse Two. This was exciting because Greenhouse Two was strictly off-limits. And that was exciting because she had heard that the reason it was off-limits was because there were plants in there that could strangle people to death or eat them whole or even turn them into slime.

Tawnie didn’t want to be turned into slime, but she could think of several people that she wanted to turn into slime, and so the prospect of a slime-ifying plant was a good one.

She jumped again.

The step remained stubbornly solid.

Opennus Uppus!” Tawnie declared with all the authority of a person who knew exactly what they were doing. She shook her wand at the ground. Bright purple sparks shot from the tip of it, only to fizzle out against grey flagstone a beat later.

So much for that.

Another jump. “Abracada—”

A voice echoed from the darkness of the corridor beyond, cutting her off before she could finish her spell.

“Hello! Is Emma Birch here?”

Tawnie scowled, offended by the interruption. “No,” she snapped back, and jumped for what felt like the hundredth time. She landed with a dull thud against the ground. No Greenhouse Two. No slime. Just the dungeons corridor and the uncanny echo of that disembodied voice.

“And if she was here, I’d tell her to piss off.”


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