Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

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→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Wren Coulter

Birthday: 9 October 1930  (libra, horse)

Hometown: Somewhere in Chicago, too far back for her to remember

Bloodline: Muggleborn

Magical Strength (pick one): Divination

Magical Weakness (pick one): Conjuring & Summoning

Year (pick two): 7th, 6th
(She has been slight and small for her age for as long as she could remember which has made it easier to fit into years that she’s had to re-take.  At first, she had been held back a years due to her inability to truly concentrate on this world with magic, and being an orphaned muggleborn certainly hadn’t helped, but as time went on she likely repeated another year because of her ability to find distraction in all things but school.)

Biography:
Wren still didn’t trust many people, but she was trying at least.

The problem was, some habits truly were hard to shake. The girl had started out with a kind of knowledge about the world and that knowledge had helped her to stay sane in the insane world she’d fallen into. Sanity was a must, right?

Besides, Wren didn’t mind it, not really. Trusting people just made it harder to leave, because to trust meant to gain friends and friends might lead to confidants, and it would be hard to up and leave if she had to explain herself around every corner.

Wren didn’t have a bad life, that wasn’t it. Wren simply didn’t fit. Still. After all the years she’d put in, she still didn’t feel like she belonged. She was comfortable, and she had a safe place to sleep. Jabari, her caretaker had been good to her, so had a handful of other adults that she’d been pawned off on. Wren had had a good childhood, but they all, Jabari and the lot belonged to a strange people and by extension so did she, apparently.

Yet… yet still she didn’t feel like such a truth applied.

It was the magic.

She’d been a fast learner, and had picked up on a thing or two over the years, but it had taken her a great deal of time to accept the fact that magic wasn’t something mentioned in a story book. The fact that Wren still expected to one day wake up and find herself back in the States, surrounded by a different set of hooligans, was a hazy yet very real thought.  It was normal. She was a survivor, and survivors waited for things to change so that they might reinvent themselves.

Now the question was, when were things going to change?

She had been a little street urchin; she remembered fondly on certain memories of that part of her life, and a suited stranger had changed that for her with words of a school and of an orphanage across the ocean.

She had been an orphan, and she’d adjusted quickly to those confines and then a scientist of sorts changed that reality; that part of her memory carried dull thoughts of repetition and scheduling and lots of questions.

She had been a new student being shoved off to boarding school; feelings of frustration winked in and out of her mind as she thought about the growing pains of honing magic and learning about the silliness that most might scoff at. Her lot anyway… her old lot. They would have scoffed and laughed at such talk of spells and strange creatures.

She was an older student now and she was waiting. She wasn’t a good student; failing her first year and struggling through the rest seemed to be typical for Wren, but apparently being a witch was in her cards. She hadn’t been kicked out, that was a plus. She hadn’t been abandoned, not yet anyway. She was almost feeling comfortable with the repetition of life now. And yet.

She knew it would change somehow.

That war had changed things. So had the appearance of those dreadful doo-gooders, the Hexenreich. Only time lay between the current state of her later years at Hogwarts and the new changes to come.

Who would it be this time? Who was going to swoop in and tell her that she was destined to go back in time, to go to space or to become a pet corgi?

…

A girl in a uniform, sitting poised on a log, laughed at some preposterous notion. No one would hear the carefree rumblings nor witness the big smile, because she didn’t often laugh or smile so freely when she knew people were around. Wren was no little girl any longer, but the workings of her mind were still too simple to feel comfortable within her own skin. She would likely continue all of the habits she’d developed so as to protect herself from her surroundings. 

The girl, nearly a young woman now, pulled up a book and peered at its pages. She would wait, she would continue learning, and she would be ready for the next change in her life to show itself.



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

House Request: Hufflepuff

Personality: Wren seems not to find too much trouble in making acquaintances, and maybe those acquaintances believe her a friend . She’s the kind of person that might flit from one table to another during great feasts, not lacking the confidence to bridge the gap between houses, but when asked for a real favor, a favor only a true friend might be willing to help with, she slinks into the shadows. She trusts in very few people and doesn’t feel the need in tricking herself otherwise. 

Appearance: Small for her age, Wren has mousy straight brown hair, and a sweet smile that she flaunts occasionally if she thinks it will get her something from the boys or from an angry professor.

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.


Wren was shuffling through the dungeons casually. She’d met up with a friend and had taken the opportunity to get notes from her on their last class. Wren should probably feel ashamed that she’d made friends with a girl just so she’d have a reliable source of lecture notes. She didn’t. The girl was nice enough, it wasn’t as if gabbing about boys for a few minutes was especially mind numbing, but Wren likely wouldn’t have given the girl any notice if it weren’t for the class-sharing thing.

A friend was a friend, even if the relationship was one sided, and it was at least comforting labeling the girl as such.

Wren rounded a corner and noticed a girl just ahead, walking away. She didn’t think much of it, lots of students could be found in a school, obviously, but the girl’s tentative voice caught her ear.

Wren smiled slightly, shaking her head. Kids.

It took only a moment. She stepped around the corner and snuck up behind the girl. She wasn’t close enough to truly scare her, but she didn’t want to make anyone jump out of their skin either, so good enough…

“Boo!” she voiced abruptly, softly and waited for the girl to jump again.

A smile would meet the young thing, a mischievous grin, before Wren added, “Not gonna find that girl here, or maybe…” she offered to keep the ruse going.

→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have on the site (current and previous): Martin, MWT, EWT… and so on

How did you find us?: *blinks*

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Wren Coulter

Gender: Female

Age: Eight

Bloodline: Muggleborn

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): 
Parents up and disappeared one night, luckily some strange fella named Jabari Razi showed interest in her upbringing.

Residence:
Knockturn Alley Flat of Jabari Razi.

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?
Nada.

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:
Elizabeth Woods-Taylor (Hogwarts)
Michael Woods-Taylor (Elsewhere)
Loring Reinhardt (Salem)
Quincy Stanhope (Elsewhere)
Charles Astor (BB)

Biography: (100 words minimum.)
Barefoot she sped across that field of dirt relishing in the dust that kicked up around her legs and the sand that she could feel grinding between her toes. Those boys would see, once and for all, who was fastest… her. Not a little boy who crowed about being king of this or that, not the little girls who cried foul play if their hair was pulled or dress yanked on. She was fastest, without any gimmick, and youngest of them all. Little Wren.

Just like the quick witted songbird, Wren had much to prove and even more to sing about. Not that Wren was her Christian name, she as much as forgot what her real name had been, along with so many other things.

Her parents had called her Wren for as long as she could remember though. It started as merely a nickname and only Mary, or Andrea or some other silly simple name would she be addressed when she had been bad. But Wren was a good name, she liked it, and so she had not given any other when the adults finally cornered her and demanded a label. Besides, it wasn’t as if they would catch her in the lie, because she belonged to no one, and no one would correct her.

To be honest, Wren wasn’t surprised that her parents had disappeared with the other little ones, her sisters and her brothers, because neither her momma nor pop seemed to need her around. What little she could recollect of her Momma was that she always had the little ‘uns to care for and her pop was off workin’ in the city. She was the eldest and could see to attending school on her own, fixing lunch on her own and making her way home on her own.

Still, when Wren woke to find herself in a hovel, dust and debris keeping her company rather than her younger brother, for they shared a bed, she did find herself scared. They left her. Or, they dropped her off somewhere and then left her? Funny thing too, because as much as her parents didn’t seem to need her, didn’t seem to care if she was in the house or gone, didn’t seem to pay her no mind, Wren didn’t once think they might wish to leave her behind.

And yet they had.

Those first few weeks had passed in a blur as Wren sought shelter with families she did not know. Pop had always said that she could take care of herself, and momma never argued, maybe this was a test.

A very strange test.

The strangeness of it all had seeped into her mind slowly as she found her place in the world. Little things kept nagging at her mind, like street names and buildings. They were all too familiar and yet very different from those in her memory. She was still home, or close to it, but nothing seemed familiar anymore.

Accept the children. Nothing changed with children. Soon Wren found herself running with other street kids, dodging capture and proving her place in a world of young hoodlums. With the memory of her parents and siblings quickly subsiding, Wren held fast to her new life. Even when she was caught, even as they shipped her to the nearest orphanage, Wren tenaciously grabbed at her life. She was a fighter and would make this world work for her.


Roleplay:
Reply as your character to the following:

Godric Park.

Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue, for once clear of the ever-pervasive spongy clouds and rain. The sun was a lemony-yellow presence, high in the Eastern sky, and in front of it zipped three broomsticks in a straight line, or something very like one. One... two..... three... the boys passed, their shouts of excitement echoing as they chased the snitch, a tiny shimmer reflecting the sunlight.

Far below was another, much smaller broomstick.

It trugged along the ground, hugging close to it like a sluggish choo choo train and occasionally shuttering in protest. This was because said stick was currently being occupied by a very small girl who was tugging upward on the front of it with all her might, trying to coax it into doing what it had been expressly designed NOT to do.

"John, I said wait up!" The tiny girl squealed, giving the broomstick another tug.

Begrudgingly, it drifted upward a foot, and then sank, depositing the troublesome girl safely on the ground. Janey Hurst was not pleased. In a huff, she hopped off the toy safety broom, grabbing it firmly and thrusting it handle first into the turf.

Her brother was such a beast. He NEVER let her play! She folded her arms, seething blue eyes fixing on another figure nearby.  "You!" She barked, much more sharply than she meant to.

"...Do you want to play?"

Roleplay Response:
If asked where Wren saw herself in a few months’ time, she would have replied ‘anywhere!’ but in all honesty, across the ocean was not included. Her mind was still processing this turn of events; her new guardian, her new home, her supposed special abilities, her new friends, because that was what all those other kids were supposed to be, right? Friends.

Maybe siblings… Wren wasn’t sure, all she knew was that someone wanted her and that was good enough. Not that she needed anyone mind you.

Wren and the other children had been allowed time to play, and she deciding on exploring the park. Again, Wren was only just making sense of everything not least of which was the magic thing. The eight year old was curious and terribly intrigued. Magic might have scared her siblings (she did have siblings at one point, didn’t she?) but it didn’t scare her. It seemed only fitting that the world had something special about it, and that there was something special about her.

The little girl found herself staring up at three boys on - yep those were broomsticks - flying like bullets through the air, and was caught off guard by the voice behind her.

It was another little girl, angered, by the looks of it, demanding the attention she was not getting from her elders.

Thin streaks of auburn hair brushed past her cheeks as she began to smile. “I want to race, can you run?” Wren was an unimpressive looking girl, much like her namesake she was plain and simple, hair falling around her shoulders in disarray, simple gray eyes that were supposed to be hazel. There was a twinkle in them as she proposed a race.

“I know other games, if you don’t want to race me.” She offered as most boys had expressed to her, challengingly.

OTHER
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