Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

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CHARACTER INFORMATION

Character name: Evelyn Takamura

Previous and/or Current Character(s) if applicable: Ars Cadwallader, Nadine Aleshire, Red Märchen, etc.

Character age: Twenty-Two

Character education:

Salem 1938-1941
Hogwarts 1941-1944 (Dropped out)
Crow’s Creatures 1947-Present (First hand experience with dangerous magical creatures and their care Especially for Crow)

Strength and weaknesses (details please):

Strengths:

Compassion and love of animals and only animals: Evelyn is fearless around monsters that would make most ministry workers squirm. Under Crow’s guidance, she’s studied quite a few of them up close and can maintain composure even in life threatening situations.

Fierce determination: Although there was a point in her life where she gave up everything, Evelyn will rise to a challenge. Even as a shell of her former self, she’s still more personable than her counterpart and takes work quite seriously. (For the most part.)

Crow’s Friendship. Not to be underestimated when it comes to his reputation with students and on days where he might feel like deviating from scheduled lessons.

Weaknesses:

Apathy  Evelyn wants to be at the castle, but becoming an assistant professor has never been an aspiration of hers. (To be fair, she never really had dreams at all.) Still, this is entirely Crow’s chaos, and she’s in it to babysit him. This may cause her to have a short temper with students, or anyone who might not share her oddly biased opinion of him.

Fear  To be fair, something could go terribly wrong. Combine minors and monsters, and somebody’s bound to get eaten eventually. In the shop, it was easy to lay out of the ministry’s sight, but at Hogwarts that might be different. Evelyn is especially afraid for Crow, as even if she’s proud of him for venturing out somewhere he’s liable to make a mistake.

Physical description:

Anyone who once knew Evelyn as a student may have trouble recognizing her, but also find the changes so subtle they wouldn’t be able to discern why. Tired, and almost so remarkably plain its disconcerting, her expressions only fluctuate from vacant to mildly angry in most circumstances—and any other emotion might be read as decidedly fake. Unlike most girls her age (as her temperament and circumstances alienate them from her at all,) she gives no regards to fashion, and wears whatever is cheap and salvageable, although she seems to have a fondness for scarves. Typically, she also favors jackets or a bag of some kind to keep trinkets to distract Crow, snacks, and various other useful odds and ends . It’s been a considerable amount of time since she’s afforded (or thought about) a haircut, and typically wears all of it in a messy bun, which seems to always fall apart by the end of the day. Especially if a certain bird consistently plucks at it.


Personality (nice, rude, funny etc. Paragraph please.):

It’s hard to see what lies in a girl with a heart as cold as an ocean, but on the surface she’s bitter, and exceedingly serious. Anyone who failed to introduce themselves to her before all her doors shut may have an exceedingly difficult time finding anything within her outside of cold indifference. Still, while beside crow, she’s still a paragon of calm rationality, and has a tendency to judge in favor of rules and laws, (so that it might keep the both of them from sinking.) Although it may appear Evelyn’s short tempered,
(especially when dealing with a certain middle aged four year old) she has the patience of a god, and is rarely truly upset.

At the bottom of her soul, however, her defining quality still lurks, obvious but latent: an almost masochistic desire to care for others. Time and time again, this nature has betrayed her and left her with unattended funerals and betrayal, and so her focus shifted slowly from people to animals. Her run ins with mortality and abysmal self esteem have led her to a sort of existentialism, and yet she admires a man she thinks immortal and infamous.

Hopes and dreams. Why are you teaching at Hogwarts?:

Evelyn possesses not a shred of hope, but rather wanders to and from where she’s needed. To be fair to her, she’s probably rather irritated Crow has dragged her back to Hogwarts for this ridiculous masquerade, but for two years they’ve watched over each other, and she thinks teaching might do some good for him. (Especially if they can both be in the menagerie, which might feel a bit like home.) Additionally, she’s fiercely loyal to him, and determined to act as his translator for the outside world. As his assistant, all she can want is a zero death count, and a minimal amount of lawsuits and serious altercations. (If it pays like he promised, she might dream that the shop might not completely tank, but she’s not holding her breath.)


Biography (500 words minimum. There is never such a thing as too much.):

If dreams and nightmares are analogous, then she shall never sleep. Hope is the cosmos expanding into infinity, perpetually away. Cyclic and cynical, a timeless gem. An antediluvian ballad of sin, with ordinary roots—a loss of innocence unfolds in a field salted by perseverance.

It begun with such a loss, of culture and family, of a language and sense of belonging. With a new name, a Muggleborn orphan girl was stranded in muggle San Francisco, unaware that magic lie latent in her blood. Unable to make friends (or perhaps unwilling, plagued by some sense of difference,) she and the other children avoided each other most days (others, they fought with handfuls of sand and mud.) It was by chance she met a strange old fisherman, completely alone in the world aside from an army of feral cats. With nothing to offer her but love and a few old sheets of origami paper, he became her Grandfather, and the summer days passed with faint meows for fish skins and waves crashing on the docks.

Until a letter came—

At first, it seemed like a cruel joke—there was no way she was a witch. It had to be something discriminatory, or some sort of prank (although from whom or what reason she couldn’t really discern.) It was only with encouragement from her Grandfather she packed up her precious cat, Prince and a few meager possessions to head across the country and start school at Salem. For the first few weeks, everything felt like living a faerie tale, until a new set of insults took center stage.

Mudblood, they sang, and once again she was isolated.

Letters came and went, and she learned spells and words of cruelty. Even in poverty, in this world that was never hers, (as neither of them were,) she still smiled and kept her diligence. It was never her dream to excel at anything—she merely sought survival.

Quietly, she marveled and kept mostly to herself.

In the muggle world, a war shook the world. As hostilities and alliances shifted, Evelyn
was displaced for a third time—this time to Britain to restart her life at Hogwarts as a fourth year. Without understanding, or knowing, she clutched at the meaning of being an adult. In this strange country, she sought herself, and for a time, she found something, a fire in her shadow—what she lacked.

A Transfiguration professor who taught her infinity.
A golden house filled with friends and encouragement.
A familiar stadium and microscopic faces—snow and wind in her hair.
A wretched boy who knew no more than her.

“Mudblood” he sang again, and she fought him down. The crimson badges no longer bothered her, not so much as the searing absence of letters from her Grandfather, or news from the United States. With a face of glass, she brushed her fears away, and cried only in private, in gardens for her dorm was for laughing and celebrating Quidditch matches.

Bombs fell, and the news came in a wave. The same boy was there, with far kinder words. Evelyn, who’d only lived with a name given to her for strangers, only vicariously wondering about the idea that—somewhere, in Japan—she had to have parents, wept for a destroyed country. What could be left of it? It was impossible to draw a line where muggle and magic ended, and she felt pain for a land she couldn’t remember.

At last, the war was over and a single letter arrived. The United States government (who to their credit, took the time to find a way to post her), had lost quite a number of their innocent prisoners—chiefly among them, her Grandfather, her adopted fisherman. This was cruelty, and it continued to unfold.

Like stone, Evelyn’s resolve was chipped away, until she finally dropped out due to apathy depression her sixth year.

With no will, and no faith in the world, she lived for a few months in dilapidated apartment with the same boy, who tried his best to care for her. There was nothing the pair of them could do for themselves, and they struggled as London turned darker around them.

Their only solace was the other—until he was taken from her.

Less was possible. All this time she’d held her hands open, and now she could feel even the air slipping between her fingers. All at once, she was destroyed—bested.
The next months were odd jobs. Robotic. Anything. Even a break at the Daily Prophet gave her no solace, as she was still not tempered, or ready to pick up her shattered glass mask. Anything could harm her, and everything would. Still, it gave her income and time to sew up her wounds, but she couldn’t stand the masquerade.

A chance meeting led her back to an old Professor—someone she’d believed in, for better or for worse. If she’d sold her soul to a demon, she knew she should have felt it, but oddly working as a clerk in a shop of monsters and horrors felt…ironic. The true nightmares were in the streets, in words, in papers and wizards who claimed Britain. (Not even just the German ones.) Poison and pinchers were nothing in the face of adversity, discrimination and death. Aside from that, it felt right to take care of something outside of herself—to avoid giving up on the world entirely. The circumstances in the world changed, crescendoing into fire and flame, yet for her, time slowed as she began to heal.

All of her happiness had leaked, but finally she was growing whole.

Two years passed, and now a grotesque counter covered in dust and cobwebs is home. Visits outside of family are rare, and her family consists solely of Crow. An odd match made in hell, Evelyn watches over the infamous dark wizard as he, well, he watches over the beasts the two of them might dub “creatures”. (“Pets” far too friendly of a term for the sort of things they deal in.)

Now, Evelyn intends to follow Crow back to Hogwarts as he pursues his passion for Magizoology—as he might accidentally come into contact with impressionable teenagers. All she can be sure of the coming term (or probably any recent occurrence) is that it probably, definitely, was never in her job description.


SAMPLE ROLEPLAY
(Please respond to to this in third person past tense. Do not write the other characters' reactions. Only your own.)

It was the largest office in Hogwarts and, perhaps to students and newcomers, the most intimidating. The shelves were filled with various odds and ends, with a place of honor for the Sorting Hat, and the walls held all the portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses.

In the middle of the room sat a large desk. Everything was in order, for the current occupant had always despised a messy desk. It was the sign of a messy mind, and she had always favored neatness.

A clock sat on the desk, which currently showed the time to be 2:05. The meeting was supposed to begin at 2:00 precisely.

Along with order, Anneka valued punctuality. She was a very busy woman these days. Even during the summer, she had a number of matters to attend to. Interviewing and hiring staff was only of those matters. The newest potential member of her staff wasn't making a good impression.

She paced the room, black heels clicking against the stone floor. When the door finally opened, Anneka turned, her expression reminiscent of a Russian winter. "You are late."

Explain yourself was what her face said.

Roleplay Response:

It felt like being oil on water, or a molecule unable to bond with any other due to its abhorrent weight. This position felt wrong, and Evelyn was an anachronism within these halls. The atomic mediocrity tugged at her constantly as she struggled to adjust—from black and yellow cloaks to the nearly constant presence of laughter—all she could think about was how much these things used to mean to her, and how much they’d driven her to insanity in those final months.

Strange though it was, her comfort came in the form of Crow’s shop, filled to the brim with dusty ancient scripts and a particularly familiar set of peculiar jars. Watching him attempting to pack, it has hard not to ask just to stay home. Cancel the class—no harm done. None of this had seemed to be his most brilliant idea, but now as it came to be a slow reality, Evelyn wanted to jump ship.

It couldn’t show though—if he knew she knew, then he really might do something, and all in all, this was good for him. For the shop. That was the goal here.

Yet it took all afternoon to get through things.  For some awful reason, she had to have an interview with the Headmistress, (really), yet Crow kept inventing some new reason to hold her. It was a requirement for her to go, yet what would they make of this? Would anyone really hire a Muggleborn dropout? 

Finally, with him distracted, she ran. It took longer than she expected, as she’d never even dreamed of walking through those doors before, and she practically fell through the doorway, breathless.

"You are late."

Time wasn’t really a thing Evelyn had ever been concerned about since—well since Hogwarts. It was hard to be late at a job where the shop was indefinitely open or closed, and she was always welcome inside regardless. It also baffled her that the Headmistress probably already knew what this was about—how Crow had definitely gone in and insisted about his assistant, yet Anneka could chide her and know the man they were both dealing with.

“I’m sorry.” The words came out before she could muster the sincerity. All of this was an absolute circus.

“I—“

 It was difficult to articulate how much this meant to her, now that she was here. It wasn’t for her sake, (at least, she’d never intended it to be,) but rather for his. This was incredibly important to make him—not normal but perhaps slightly happy again—so five minutes late or not,  she had to recover.

“I won’t be late again.” (A downright lie, it was hard enough to get Crow to unlock the door of his shop, so she didn’t doubt it would take her an hour a lesson to find the bird
and drag him to teach a lesson.)

“Also, I hate to be like this, but I don’t want to be out for very long…”

(Already she was thinking of Crow staring at a dusty old calendar from a year or so back, when she last changed it—it was really a moot point with him—but he’d probably be trying to figure out where she’d gone.)

Perhaps the wrong phrasing, but the truth. Already, she felt as if there were some of the more palpable questions weighing down on her, but she was determined to just get it over with.

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Ditto on Crow’s lesson plans pm! Please refer to that for Eves! #squadgoals <3

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→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Evelyn Takamura (イヴリン・高村)

Birthday: June 17

Hometown: San Francisco

Bloodline: Muggleborn

Magical Strength: Transfiguration

Magical Weakness: Divination

Year: Four or Five

Biography: Re-written

Outside the window of the Hogwarts Express, the last beams of sunlight raced across the countryside, staining the sky a velvet shade of purple. Within the warm cabin, Evelyn sat with her face pressed against the cool glass, her fingers absentmindedly twirling the fluffy hair on her pet cat, Prince as he sleepily stretched in her lap. Besides them, the cabin was completely empty, save for a few bags and some forgotten sweets. It was quiet too, with the sliding door tightly shut.

It was perhaps unwise to at least attempt to make friends on the train, but the first memory Evelyn remembered was a red-faced boy with short hair hurling a handful of sand into her eyes outside the orphanage. Every single grain glinted in the sunlight as they shot towards her, and although she turned and shielded her face, it stung. The same boy pushed her on the ground and told her she deserved it, and maybe if she got a new set of eyes she could at least look American.
The other children were just as violent, but their attacks didn’t come in fistfuls of hatred. They came instead in whispers, and fingers pulling at the corners of their eyes, and girls who never had space at their table in the Cafeteria.

To Evelyn, the thought that she was not American was unbearable. She was careful not to see her own reflection in the glass of the window as she watched the landscapes rush by. However, the rich color of the sky brought forth memories older than the sand- ancient, confusing images and a half-forgotten glimpse of her childhood. A yukata, a deep, enchanting purple with pink flowers. A black lunchbox with bright white rice inside. Another name, Yuki, and the snowfalls that inspired it.

The unnerving fact that she still somehow spoke Japanese, although she never remembered studying it. It flowed off of her tongue easily, and sometimes she traced its letters in the air.

“思い出せない”* she muttered to her pet, who stared up at her with bright grey eyes. Prince never  paid attention to how she spoke, or cared much as long as he had fish to eat.

The only rational explanation for her memories was that her parents had taught her these things, but their faces were like shadows, and she didn’t recall ever being left at the orphanage- just the stinging in her eyes. Over time, she’d come to terms that maybe she simply didn’t want to remember what had happened that long ago, as whatever it was, it must have been terrible. The only clue she had to her history was her strange name, and the few fleeting images.

To cope with the loneliness, Evelyn drowned herself in printed words. During their free hours at the orphanage, she had wandered down the dirt road and took books from the library. The scientists and rough-faced children and Queens she envisioned never judged her.

Only a few years ago, a strange old man with a broken tooth adopted her, and it was the first time she’d met someone of her own heritage. With only one bag on her shoulder, she went and lived with him in a white-washed flat. The man’s name was Hiroshi Yamashita, and his wife had died in the last few months of winter. There was a lot of fuss with the adoption papers as it was a little queer for an old man to shelter a young girl, but with the times being as they were and the easy way they spoke Japanese together, they could not be denied. Hiroshi was a wizard, and often went on long tangents about how he had been great at dueling, once, so many years ago. In his old age, he sold charmed flowers- roses that would change color if someone loved you, or had lied to you and elaborate bouquets that never wilted. On Sundays, he went fishing, and sang in their native language while cats gathered and mewed patiently for a taste of fish. Although bit strange, Evelyn grew accustomed to living with Hiroshi and selling the flowers  under the California sun. They adopted Prince as a kitten, and lived as a family for a few months, forgetting the troubles that plagued the previous few years. It wasn’t an easy life, but it was better than the long nights tossing on a cot with a score of other restless children.

When the letter came for Evelyn to go to Salem, Hiroshi passed it to her silently across the table during dinner, and after reading the words, she looked over the top of the paper and he gave her a wide, broken-toothed smile. It was hard to leave him entirely alone, but he insisted she took Prince since two men couldn’t keep a house together. Across the continent, she always worried about the old man, and now she’d left him to go across the sea, all the way to Hogwarts.

She couldn’t help the events at Salem, but she was always lucky with second chances. Still, she’d heard that muggleborns had trouble obtaining WiSas and leaving Britain nowadays. Perhaps she wouldn't be able to go into the country if her education wasn't at stake? What would she do if something happened to Hiroshi, her loving grandfather? Normally, the blood-red badge on her clothes wouldn’t have bothered her, as it was just another layer to her cruel oppression, but the thought of being unable to return to the flat and see that senile smile again brought tears to her eyes. She wouldn't be able to stand it- much less forgive any bully or dark creature that dared keep her from returning home. It just felt as if something terrible was going to happen soon, and although she had never proven herself adept at reading tea leaves, the world was changing around her. As twilight cast across the world, she silently wished for time to stop.

Sighing, she reached over the languid body of her cat and fetched a book from her
bag.

*思い出さない omoi dasanai  I’m not able to recall

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.

House Request: Ravenclaw or Gryffindor

Personality:
Overall, Evelyn is very introverted and avoids actively participating in groups and would rather study or venture around the campus grounds. This behavior stems from fear of rejection and a history of exclusion on the basis of her race (from the bio). Additionally, as a new student to Hogwarts, she is hesitant to disrupt the cliques that have formed within her year. Despite this, she hopes to join her house as a full member and feel included as part of a team. Once befriended, she’s extremely loyal and chatty. Oddly, she enjoys playing harmless pranks on her friends. Additionally, she has little patience for morons, especially lazy classmates, and can be quick to anger.

Other facts:
-When nervous, Evelyn sometimes folds paper stars, which she keeps in a jar under her bed. The paper for these is used as bookmarks in her textbooks
-She has a fondness for cats and sometimes may give other students’ cats treats
-Her Japanese name is “Yuki” but she doesn’t remember why
-She despises the nickname “Eve”
-Left-handed
-Her favorite foods are bananas and strawberries.

Appearance: Evelyn is 4' 11”, 95 pounds, and a Japanese-American. Her hair is kept short most of the time, and she often walks while looking at the ground. Often, she can be found in the common room in her pajamas. She speaks American-English rather than British-English.

Her cat, Prince, is the birman breed.


→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.

Option 1:
-At Hogwarts- (A few lines changed)

 As the rioting tone rose to an intolerable decibel, Evelyn’s eyes broke from the pages of the thick botany text she was studying at the house table and searched for the source. Down the dual lines of faces, she found the tell-tale stained Quidditch uniform of the player that botched the game for the entire time earlier that day. From the stands, she watched in awe, uncharacteristically chanting, and cheering and standing on her chair to catch a glimpse. Although she had never had any interest in boring Muggle sports, the magical energy that surrounded the students whizzing by on broomsticks fascinated her. In the cool October air, it was surreal to watch the blur of colors as the game was played, and feel the roar of the crowd ebbing with her racing heart. She’d never experienced anything like it on the cement streets of her hometown, or in the black and white pages of her beloved books. At Salem, she’d watched Quodpod, but the violence of the sport had reminded her too much of stories of war with its explosions. Recently however, she entertained notions of joining the Quidditch tryouts, but she felt as if it might be awkward if she didn’t know anyone on the team…

 The shock wave that rippled across their house as James dropped the quaffle was palpable, marked by a united intake of breath. It fell through the air, glinting in the sunlight, and for a silent moment, the entirety of Hogwarts sat still in disbelief. Even though they were a generation used to defeat, it was surreal walking back across the grounds, with the sweet taste of victory sour on their tongues. Of course, whatever Evelyn was feeling as a spectator was probably multiplied tenfold in the hearts of the players themselves.
   
The most disturbing part of the situation was not the cheers from the winning team, as that was normal in the aftermath of a game, but rather solemn quiet in the losing house. What happened to unity? What happened to “maybe next time” and “it happens to everyone?” No one was consoling the obviously upset player- his name was James, right? They were completely ignoring him. Evelyn flinched as he finally reached his limit and stormed from the room.
   
Without hesitation, Evelyn opened her book and slid out a long strip of light blue paper from the stack she used as bookmarks. With quick, precise folds, she crafted it into a perfect origami star, about the size of a knut. Quietly, she followed the disgruntled player into the hall. Not quite sure what to say, she stood watching for a moment, hesitant.
   
It completely frightened her to be yelled at as he noticed her presence, and part of her wanted to run back and lose him among the crowd. However, she had been bullied before, and knew how it felt as if every other person was out to get you.

Assertively, she took a step forward and proffered the star on the palm of her outreached hand.
   
 “I…” she started shyly, glancing down at the floor, her confidence lost.

 “I made this. Here. It's a star, so look up sometimes.” her eyes darted away again, and her teeth tugged at her lower lip. "There's lots of mistakes in life, I guess...but they're like stars. The more you make, the brighter you become."

How awkward.

→ ABOUT YOU.

How did you find us?: Sylvianne Marceau referred me~