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Topics - James Cockerill

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Archived Applications / James Cockerill
« on: 07/12/2020 at 08:09 »
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Application for Hogwarts School


Name: James Cockerill

Birthday: 10th October 1946

Hometown: A little farm just outside of Devil’s Bridge, Wales

Muggleborn / Halfblood / Pureblood / Unknown

Magical Strength (pick one):
Divination / Transfiguration / Charms / Conjuring & Summoning

Magical Weakness (pick one):
Divination / Transfiguration / Charms / Conjuring & Summoning

Year (pick two): Primary- Fourth  Secondary - Third

If you are applying to be a first, second, or third year, your biography must be at least one hundred words long.
If you are applying to be a fourth year or above, your biography must be at least three hundred words long.

Australian men stare bold-faced into the void and laugh. Take your sense of humour with you to the grave and you’ll always be alright.

James clutched the journal closely to his chest. He’d read the strange little green notebook with almost religious fervour since his father’s funeral.

 Augustine Raymond Cockerill, the eccentric twinkle-eyed wizard had died nearly two years earlier. Shrapnel in the man’s body – earned with pride on the Kokoda Trail had spent more than a decade tearing apart his insides. He’d refused wizard medicine on principle, a luxury not afforded to his muggle wife, and so had spent many painful years facing death and dispensing wisdom for his two children. Each was gifted a journal filled with years of lessons and stories their father would never be able share.

 James had read every word, except for the last page- delaying that fateful day when the last piece of his father would no longer be new.

The Cockerill family lived in a modest rickety Queenslander which moaned in the hot summer winds that blew in over the sea - out on the edge of Brisbane City, where urban streets mingled with rural paddocks.

 Magic had been scarce in his childhood. James’ father heralded from an English pureblood family – a family who distained his love for a pretty Australian schoolteacher without a drop of magic blood. So the man forsook his heritage – changing his name and followed her across the sea.

“Do everything for love, kiddo, everything else is pointless in the end” he had said to James a few years before he died.

So neither James, nor his sister, Lydia, had been privy to much in the magic world, as their father took to muggle life with pride, taking a muggle job, doing muggle chores and eventually dying from old wounds earned in a muggle war.

 He’d insisted on enlisting, even though he didn’t have to, the Australian Ministry of Magic strongly advising against his involvement in muggle warfare. 

“Always fight, in service of those who can’t stick up for themselves, James. Sometimes it’s better to die doing what’s right, then living doing nothing. Stand up to bullies”.

James traced his fingers over the words written and underlined in the journal, and looked at the scars on his knuckles he’d earned at school following just such advice. He wasn’t particularly large, nor strong, so he had entered many fights but won none - heroes laughed into the void.

What little James did know about the wizarding world, he’d learned through Quidditch, his father allowing him at least a glimpse at the Australian National Quidditch team, as they held a match against the French team in one of their secluded Outback pitches. A taste of magic was all the boy needed to develop a craving. He never told his father, but his heart ached to touch that world one day again.

On the occasional Summer day, when his parents were both out, he’d steal his father’s old and unused wand and try to practice magic in the seclusion of the scrub patch of scribbly gums at the end of their quiet little street – trying his best to shoot some kind of magic spell and an old cricket stump. Little came of it, except for a colourful spark or two. But it was a spark James knew he could cling on to. Maybe one day he could learn more.

After his father died, grief clung to the streets of their tiny corner of Brisbane, every inch of the rickety old house was soaked in his memory. The Cockerill family, now a forlorn little trio, fled across the sea, Welsh relatives his mother’s Aunt and Uncle offering solace on a tiny farm just outside of Devil’s Bridge.

And so that was where James lay now, only a few weeks until his eleventh birthday, on his bed clinging to the journal, the smell of his Aunt’s mutton stew boiling from the downstairs kitchen, and the soft patter of constant rain he still wasn’t used to tapping against the glass of his window. He shut his eyes tightly and wished with all his might, that the wizard world he’d tasted all those years ago- would invite him back in. He wished that one day, he might be like his father, funny, brash, passionate and most of all, kind. He wished for a place where he could do more than simply shoot sparks at an old cricket stump, where he could develop powerful skills that would help him protect his sister and his mum, and anyone else who needed his help. And just as he opened them again – a large white barn owl landed on his windowsill- holding a letter….

Hogwarts Years
Over his few years at Hogwarts James had taken to his new life with gusto. With more confidence than he had skill James tended to get himself into trouble- tending to eagerly try spells well beyond his ability to disastrous results. However, throughout he maintained his sense of humour, developing a quick wit to stave off the potential embarrassment of his occasional missteps. As James grew to learn more about the blood discrimination that plagued the Wizarding World, the more he began to understand his father’s distain for his heritage. The boy often found himself favouring passion over logic, and ended up in fights that resulted in detention or worse the hospital wing. He was also no stranger to rule-breaking, often indulging in playful pranks, and breaking curfew on several occasions- to meet a girl, to sneak a peak at a book he wasn’t supposed to, and sometimes just for the raw thrill of it. He still keeps his father’s journal on his nightstand, reading some of it each night. All except for the final page.

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

House Request: Gryffindor(Primary Choice) Hufflepuff (Secondary Choice)

Tell us a bit about your character’s personality (likes, dislikes, fears, etc.) What are they like on a good day versus a bad one? Is your character particularly cheerful? Do they hate sunlight?
James inherited his father’s cheeky smile and sparkling eyes. He’s confident and bold, tending to make a lot of friends quickly. He’s always quick to make a joke, on his worst days he can come across as mean, though he’d dread the thought that anyone felt that way. His tendency is toward kindness, especially to the younger students. He often responds to them gently. However, he also has a quick temper, and is quick to judgement, he’ll often be quite prickly and even sometimes cruel to Pureblood students, especially those he thinks might be abusing their power. Sometimes his judgement will be premature, and even then he’ll be stubborn in holding onto a grudge. He’s especially quick to judge Slytheran students, assuming them all to hold the same prejudices. Conversely, he’s also quick to pledge loyalty to a friend, and those he becomes close to will keep his friendship for life.

He has a keen disrespect for authority, and tends to get himself into trouble by constantly making snide comments and jokes at the expense of his professors. He’s always willing to break the rules, if he sees the outcome as right or fun.
He’s average at magic, mastering Charms but little else, but he never wavers in his keen passion for learning magic as he’s always wished to. Though he tends not to delve to much into the studying aspect of his schooling, mostly completing all of his essays feverishly the night before. He certainly prefers the more instinctual aspects of magic such as flying.

Briefly describe your character's appearance (hair color, build, stature, etc.) What effect does it have on their personality? For example, does the shy Ravenclaw girl secretly dye her hair black because she hates her natural blonde? Does the curly-haired Gryffindor use charms to hide his freckles?
James has a has black hair that grows in stubbornly untameable tufts, it tends to stick out in whatever direction it chooses and James does his best to smooth it down. He dresses untidily, with his shirt always half-tucked and his tie loose. He’d prefer no tie at all but wears it reluctantly, and he secretly does relish the opportunity to wear his house colours.

Note: This section is only for students who have been previously played at Hogwarts. Please see here for more information about Castle Dropouts levels/how many levels you are eligible to claim.

Link to your last levels request (if you never posted one, link to your last accepted student application):

Number of New Levels Requested:

New Levels Request:

How your character kept up with their studies: Whether your character was still at Hogwarts or left school entirely for a while, tell us how they were able to keep up with their studies and learn about magic, which would allow their levels to keep increasing.

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 2:

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."

James had chosen this morning to eat breakfast in the gardens, trying to soak in the sun – a rare sight in the dreary grey skies of Scotland and something he desperately missed from Australia. He stretched wearily having just the night before stayed up until long past midnight trying to complete a History of Magic essay, with varying success, as he had still to scribble out two more paragraphs before classes commenced that morning. Until then he would forget the essay and pretend for a moment he was basking in the Summer heat of Queensland.

His train of thought was stopped suddenly at the sound of something rustling through the flowerbed. Having been at Hogwarts for some time, James knew that the sound could have very well been anything at all considering the menagerie of beasts he’d seen in Care of Magical Creatures, and so he leaped quickly to his feet, in case he was in store for a sting or a bite or something worse. Instead, he was greeted by the small round face of a curious rat.

“Hallo mate…” James said cautiously, approaching the creature and picking it up with a gentle touch. “I think you might be lost… wadda you reckon?”

James caught a glimpse of a flustered fifth year trapsing through the flowers, too invested in his search to notice James. The boy let out an almighty sneeze that kicked up dirt into the air and began to wipe is nose on the sleeve of his robes when he finally caught James’ eye.

"Can I help you with something? It is not polite to stare."

James smiled, the boy was doing his best to be haughty but it was weakened by his current state.

“Hayfever. My Uncle’s got it. I think it’s ruddy stupid- wizards’ve figured out how to make a powder that makes you sneeze but not one makes you stop? We’re inconsistent bunch, we are.”

He fished into his robes and pulled out an old checkered handkerchief… “Here… it’s a bit used- but- better than nothin’. Oh, and I’m guessing this little guy is yours?”

He gently extended both of his arms, offering both the rat and the handkerchief as a sort of peace offering.


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