Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

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→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Charlotte Angelika Jae Pantazis

Birthday: March 10th, 1947

Hometown: Vienna, Austria

Bloodline: Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Divination

Magical Weakness (pick one): Charms

Year: First, Second

Biography:

Delia told her what to do a lot.

Charlotte let her, mostly because she didn’t mind but partly because it had always been that way. As she went to select the doll she wanted to play with, she made sure to hand her sister one, her favorite and the best one, first.


Delia was still mad. She'd been glowering ever since they'd gotten back from their trip to the market, where Charlotte had let the pretty woman on the corner 'try on' her gold necklace only to have it stolen.

Charlotte knew Delia was mad. She felt the rage coming off her in unsettling waves. She noticed the way her fingers strangled the handle of the brush and the harsh strokes of the bristles through the doll’s hair. She watched with worried eyes as the suppressed irritation finally bubbled to the surface.

Delia put down the doll slowly, eye’s lifting to meet her sister’s before she spoke. “You’re so gullible, Lottie. You’ll just listen to anybody.”

Charlotte chomped down on her bottom lip, working her face into a pout. She wasn’t planning on doing anything about it—she never said anything when Delia was mean—but when older girl continued, “You can’t just let people tell you what to do,” it gave her an idea. Arms crossed proudly over her chest, Charlotte pointed out, “But you’re always telling me what to do.”

Delia was smart, smarter than Zacharias (a hard thing to be) and way smarter than herself (a much less hard thing to be). Charlotte figured Delia would’ve appreciated the chance to argue and prove her general correctness, something she did well and often. She waited, eyes closed in anticipation, for the impassioned response that never came. Delia, it seemed, had not appreciated her comment as much as she’d predicted, and had stormed off, probably to rant to Zacharias—he didn’t talk to Charlie very much, which was okay because Delia liked to talk to her a lot, enough for the both of them—or to bury herself in her sketchbooks.

Charlotte hadn’t learned the lesson Delia had intended. She had learned, however, that disagreeing with people resulted in shortened play time, a lot of sadness, and zero fun. None of those were things she wanted, not now and not ever. Determined to set things right, she rose from her pile of dolls and accessories, stumbling through the mess—a mess she’d leave there, doomed to be the responsibility of whatever unlucky maid stumbled upon it first—until she reached the arching doorway. Down the large hallway, her whining echoed. “I’m sorry! Please come play with me.” Again, when she got no response. “Dee, please!” This time, the sound of a pad of paper smacking the floor rang out above her. If she knew anything about her sister, it wasn’t an accident.

“Delia, I’m coming!”

Charlotte was throwing herself up the stairs before the 'G' had left her mouth.

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.

House Request: n/a

Personality:
It's glaringly obvious that Charlotte Pantazis has always been the baby of the family. Her father spoiled and protected her, to the point where she's a little clueless as to how the real world works, and thanks to her older sister whose more than happy to tell her what to do, she's never needed to figure it out. Now that she's entering school, she relies on her friends to let her know what's right and wrong. She doesn't mind getting told what to do, or even being snapped at a bit (though it might make her sad that they're sad); she's really just happy to be there. Having been cooped up in her house with the same people for most of her life, any and all activities seem like they could be the highlight of her life.

Appearance:
When it comes to appearance, Charlotte is definitely her mother's daughter. She's all long, blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. When standing next to her father's side of the family, with their dark hair and tanned skin, the result of spending years by the Mediterranean Sea, they look more unrelated than they do a family. Right now, her limbs are lanky and a little too long for her to have complete control over them. She's tall for her age, something her mother claims is a blessing but she sees as a curse. It's rare to find her without a smile on her face, the perfect accessory to her typical wide-eyed look of childhood innocence (which Delia swears makes her look even more clueless than she already does).

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
Option 2:
Charlotte had been on her way—the long way, of course—to meet her friends in the dining hall when something had caught her eye. She was going to be late, and she could only assume that she’d get an earful about it when she finally arrived, but in her defense, her friends should’ve known better than to let her walk alone.

Charlotte Pantazis was, per usual, distracted.

The scene had been hard to miss, what with all the yelling and sneezing and the squashing of things. She couldn’t help but wander over, and once she was there, she couldn’t help but stand and watch.

Her attention was drawn first to the trampled flowers, a frown promptly gracing her features as she thought of all the pretty bouquets and crowns she could’ve made if they hadn’t been ruined. Then, she looked at the boy, and though he appeared much older than she was—and older people knew everything, or at least that was what Delia had told her when she’d asked why she always got to be right—he seemed like he was in dire need of some assistance.

“Can I help you with something?”

As she eyed the snot currently smeared across his sleeve, she got an idea. “I might have a tissue!” She immediately thrust both of her hands into the pockets of her robe. Inside, she found many things—a couple of old candy wrappers, a hair clip, a couple of carrots she’d been meaning to take with her down to the stables, notably not her wand, though she could’ve sworn she’d tucked it in there before she’d let her common room—but unfortunately, nothing that the boy could use to blow his nose. As she stood in front of him so obviously empty-handed, the look she gave him was very apologetic.

“Do ya want me to go get you one?”

→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have  on the site (current and previous): Athanasia Valenti

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