Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Ailis Eris Pratten
Gender: Female
Age: 25
Blood Status: Half

Education: 
Hapsburg School of the Magical Arts

Residence:
London

Occupation
Con Artist

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?
No thank you

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: 6
• Divination: 9
• Transfiguration: 11
• Summoning: 6

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
No thank you

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Marjorie Withersnap and several other sad beans

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Confidence.

It was something that Ailis could exude.

And it made it so, so easy to get exactly what she wanted.

A grin flickered at the corners of lip as she sat walked down the busy London street, hand tucked firmly in her pocket and thumbing at the wallet firmly tucked there. The con was an easy one.

Drop the wallet. Wait for someone to pick it up. And when they did, accuse them of taking the assortment of knuts and sickles that she was adamant had been stored there. (They hadn’t been. The wallet was intentionally empty. But with large eyes and a determined tone that could turn into righteous indignation at the drop of a hat, she could convince someone else that the coins had gone missing, and those around her were always happy to help her recover them).

Confidence.

Because it wasn’t the first time she’d pulled the scam. It had started not even from necessity, this habit of tricking others, but out of interest. Magic was all about confidence, about believing in and focusing on the power of your ability. But people so often forgot to put their energy into other things. More mundane things. And Ailis worked diligently on those subjects so many other people forgot to put effort into.

While she had developed a reputation in school as being a trickster, her desire to test the limits of those abilities grew and grew as she got older.

Divination was the easiest of the cons, especially with muggles.

It worked with witches and wizards too, though.

(Your future looks bleak. Use this amulet. I can part with it for a lower price than I normally would because I do just feel terribly about having to tell you this horrible news. For a few dollars or pounds of knuts more I can go into greater detail.)

Slipping the wallet from her pocket, she let it fall to the ground and continued to walk forward as though she had not noticed that she had lost it. A hand came from her pocket as the wallet dropped to run through her hair, pulling the long blonde locks over one of her shoulders.

Her father, somewhere in the world, would be shaking his head in disdain. But he’d long since lost the right to tell her what to do, or how to act, or the ways in which she was wasting her life away. Free meals, free lodging, never having to do real work--it was more than worth it to be free, not chained to anyone or anything or any place.

Heels clicked on the stones underfoot, the sound of the crowd rushing around her. It was just a matter of time until--

”Excuse me ma’am! Ma’am! I think you dropped this!” The heavier sound of jogging footfalls approached her. Turning, Ailis let a look of confusion pull at her face. Her wallet was in the stranger’s hand, and she glanced at it with bright, wide eyes.

“Oh, thank you so much! I can’t believe I didn’t notice that I had dropped this…” Taking the wallet, she frowned and opened it. “There were five sickles and ten knuts in here? Did you see them fall out?”

A look of uncertainty flickered across the man’s face. “I’m sorry, what?”

The wheels in her mind started churning, all the pieces of her ruse clicking carefully into place. Brushstrokes across canvas obscuring a picture beneath, painting over it with a careful trump d’oiel.

Her expression remained upset, unsettled.

But could feel the glow warming in her chest. Confidence was a art, and she was an artist unrivaled.

Roleplay: 
You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character:

Option Two -
The snow had been falling steadily all morning and it didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon. Joshua Campbell scrunched his face up in a frown as he lifted his gaze to look to the sky. Snow. It really was quite a bother.

And it certainly didn't make it better that Diagon Alley seemed to be getting more and more crowded. Joshua sighed and pointed his wand at the large box that was currently placed on the doorstep of his shop. He had to get going. He had an order to deliver.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" The elderly man muttered and watched the box hover in the air for a moment. Honestly, did St. Mungo's really need that much tinsel? And with glitter of all things? He sighed again. If it hadn't been for the rather convincing stamp on the order, he would have been likely to believe it had been a prank by one of those orphaned rascals living up there. 

Oh well, there was no point in waiting. Joshua deftly stirred the box down the doorstep and out onto the street, carefully levitating it above the heads of the crowd.

"Coming through! Coming through!" His voice sounded over the chatter of the crowd. "Keep out! Move ahead! Go on!" This was going way too slow. People were in the way and walking like they had all day! He huffed. Luckily the road was down hill.

"Coming through! Coming th--- arrrgh!" Joshua let out a loud shout as his feet suddenly slipped in the snow and sent him, the box, and several long strands of tinsel tumbling into the person who had been walking in front of him.

"For Merlin's sake!" Joshua muttered angrily as he hurried to his feet again, red and gold tinsel now decorating his black coat. "I am so sorry! This blasted snow!" He looked apologetic at the person he had crashed into.

Roleplay Response:
Ailis let the door of the pawn shop slam shut behind her, tucking the assortment of coins into her pocket. Knicking things was not her preferred method of making money, but it worked in a pinch. Once outside the shop, she quickened her pace--whether or not the owner realized she’d swindled him out of cash through a series of confusing change-exchanges, she was unsure, but she didn’t want to be too close by in case he put two and two together. It was an easy swap out, to have him make change for one thing, and then another.

Making a mental note to not return to that particular shop any time soon just in case he did the math and figured out that she was responsible for the shortage (it seemed unlikely, considering how sweet she had been to him, that he would make the connection, but it was better safe than sorry), she struck out down the alley. The coins shoved in her pocket, she took a moment to haphazardly pull her dark scarf up over her face in order to ward off the cold. Snow clung to her light hair and to the wool of her jacket.

Underneath the scarf, a smile crossed her lips. Another easy swindle, another meal paid for.

An older man walked toward her, carrying a box of holiday decorations. Immediately, she found her mind assessing him, determining if he might have anything of value or if he might be able to provide something for her (sizing him up, sizing everyone up, always on the prowl). Not that she was in dire need.

But some habits couldn’t be easily repressed.

Before she could fully take him in though, she found that he was on his way down to the ground, tumbling and sliding and sending tinsel airborne. As he crashed into her, Ailis stumbled backward to try to catch her footing. A tinkle of coins spilled from her pocket and hit the ground as she went down too, silver strands falling into her hair and draping across her coat.

“Ay, watch it!” she shouted, pushing herself up with a furrowed brow.

"I am so sorry! This blasted snow!"

Looking up at the stranger, she noted his apologetic expression and softened her own. Leaning forward, she reached for her ankle and winced (the ankle was fine, fine, fine, but it was easy enough to pretend it wasn’t). “I think I twisted my ankle, when I fell. Do you think you might be able to assist me?”

Medical bills weren’t cheap, and if he was at fault--well, it was a chance for a longer con, potentially, and one too good to pass up.

OTHER
How did you find us? A voice from a tree whispered it to me