Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

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→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Callan Alastair Fraser

Birthday: 10, born May 1st 1948

Hometown: Inverness, Scotland

Bloodline: Halfblood

Magical Strength: Divination

Magical Weakness: Transfiguration

Year (pick two): 1st preferably, 2nd if not

Biography:
"Callan," she whispered, as a tear of joy ran down her apple red cheek. "Callan Alastair," she repeated, louder this time, cradeling the newborn boy in her arms. "Welcome, Callan Alastair," the voices sounded in response. All happy. Joyful. Proud. Robert, Willanius, Feradorah, Bearnard and Tilda – as well as some members of the neighboring clans, all stood in a circle around Nairna and her child. The trees of the family farm surrounding them, protecting them. Willanius and his sons stepped into the middle, Robert was carrying the shovel. He dug a hole and the three of them kneeled down. Willanius raised his hand – holding the seed of a tree. Everyone closed their eyes as he began to whisper in Gaelic. Following the last word the seed was planted in the ground. After returning the soil with his hands, Robert walked over to his wife and son, with a smile that felt like it stretched all the way around. Leaning down he kissed Nairna's forehead before placing his soil-covered thumb on his son's. "Fàilte, my lad," Robert said, before taking the child into his arms. "I have a son!" He exclaimed towards the rest, and they all cheered in response.

---

Peeking over his shoulder, Callan could see them over by the Hawthorns, doing whatever it was that they were doing.. The young Fraser boy frankly wasn't interested in the care of trees , but he certainly liked climbing them! Although, it had become a rather risky affair, as his grandpa had given clear instructions as for which trees were strictly off limits. Instructions that Callan probably remembered for a maximum of 7 minutes. But this tree right here, it pretty much begged to be climbed – with all these perfectly climbable branches poking out in every direction. It was exactly tall enough to be exciting, and not so dense that he would be robbed of the spectacular view he was after on the top. Yet, dense enough that his granparents working close by would have trouble spotting him, if this was indeed one of the “no climb trees”. Carefully he placed his feet, reached for a new branch and pulled himself further up. He was getting good at this, it was almost too easy! That was the last thought that passed through his head before the crack reached his ears and he felt the support vanish from beneath his feet. Down he fell, scratching his face and being slapped by quite a few branches along the way. With a thump he landed flat on the grass – a big broken branch laying next to him.

"Auch," Callan whispered, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Immediately he heard his name being yelled, the voice coming nearer with every breath he took. "Callan Alastair Fraser, I told you, I told you not to climb this tree!" Willanius shouted in dispair, kneeling – not beside the boy, but the branch next to him. "Look what you've done," he continued, voice lower now, shaking as he picked up the severed branch. Callan bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears. Not cause he hurt from the fall, but he really hated dissappointing those he cared about. The old man took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he put the branch back down. "Are you allright?" he asked, as Feradorah came running up behind him. "I'm sorry," Callan whimpered, not daring to open his eyes. "Not to worry, my dear," his grandmother lovingly said as she sat down by the boy and picked him up into a hug, just as the water could no longer be contained in the child's eyes. "Wounds and scratches will heal, for little lads and trees alike," she continued, stroking Callan's hair and sending a loving gaze towards her husband. "And while I think I have just the thing to help you dry your tears in my kitchen, no one is better at helping trees heal than your grandfather," she assured. Callan peeked up now, feeling a weight of his shoulders as he saw his grandfather smile. "The tree will be allright, lad," he eventually said. "And you can help me care for her tomorrow, if you'd like." Callan quickly nodded. He wanted nothing more than to make ammends. Reaching over to the branch, Fernadora took a piece of bark from it and placed it in Callan's small hand. "And maybe we can find some way to help you remember what trees like to be climbed on and which don't," she said, receiving a nod in response.

---

"You're going to need a new chair soon, lad! Did you see, Tilda, how long his legs have gotten?" Callan was grinning wide with a mouth full of roast and mashed potatoes when he heard his uncle speak. He did indeed feel like he had grown a lot this past winter, and of course uncle Bearnard would be the first to notice. It was a tradition in their family, that everyone got their own chair made from wood from the farm, and as they became older they eventually made their own. He particularly liked grandfather Willinius' chair – it was more like a throne with it's tall back and decorated armrests. Dad's was rather neat as well – it had so many carvings and decorations, and mom had painted it in really pretty colors. "I'm telling you Rob, soon he'll be joining my team!" Bearnard said and winked at his nephew, who had already scooped his fork ready for the next bite. Callan hoped he was right – he'd love to be a quidditch player, just like uncle Bear. The mood around the table was energic as always. Laughter and smiles, and mom's delicious cooking. "Maybe so, but quidditch players eat their vedgetables, right Bear?" his mother Nairna said with a smirk and sent her son an encouraging look. Whilst chewing, Callan took a long look at the broccoli on his plate, weighing it back and forth in his mind, before just about being able to fit it on the already stuffed fork. "Speaking of Quiddith!" his dad Robert shot in. "Guess what famous top player will be joining my radio show this Thursday?" There was no hiding the excitement in his voice. Robert Reed Fraser was very, very excited about his broadcasting. "Is it me?" Bearnard replied teasingly, without getting any attention. "Giles McCorrin! Captain of the King Kelpies!" Callan heard the gasps around the table and although he didn't know much about quidditch, even he could feel that this was something big. After they had all gibbered on about the McCorrin guy for a while, Callan turned to face his grandfather. "Grandpa, when will I get my wand?" he asked. Willanius grinned and leaned in. "Now that my good lad, that is an excellent question indeed."


→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.

House Request: Hufflepuff

Personality:
Callan is a very happy-go-lucky kind of lad, mainly positive and optimistic in most situations. He doesn't think too hard on things he cannot change and prefer to be in the thick of action when he can.

Coming from a big family and clan he is far from shy and is very outgoing, both with friends and strangers. Being goofy and silly is something he enjoys, and he'd go to great lenghts to make people smile and laugh. Especially if someone is sad he'd want to cheer them up as he really doesn't like seeing people in pain or being unhappy. Callan is an active boy with love for Quidditch and tree-climbing. He doesn't have the best attentionspan and if it wasn't for his curiosity he probably wouldn't read much at all.

Appearance:
Red hair, blue eyes and freckles – scraped knees and a big smile on his face, that's Callan, most of the time. He wears simple clothes that are often dirty on the knees and elbows from him climbing trees or falling off things. He's in the taller spectrum for his age, but nothing special. Not skinny, but not that big either.


→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.

Option 2:

If it was up to Callan he'd be outside all day. There was nothing like the warmth of the sun on his face and grass under his feet. The air was fresh and then there was all these things to climb! Inside people would stare if he'd try to get up on the shelves or something, but out here, out here people didn't seem to care one way or the other.

He'd pick outside over inside any day, no question about it.

And although he would never admit it to his mom, or anyone else for that matter, flowers were actually rather pretty.

Jogging down the gardens, looking for the perfect tree to conquer, Callan spotted a boy who seemed ..A bit distressed.

"You blasted rat! Where are you?"

Stopping for a moment, Callan looked over at the boy, trying to figure out what he was doing. Before he could figure out what to do next, the boy turned around to face him.

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

“Oh,” was all Callan managed to mumble before realizing he was, in fact, starring. “I was just wondering what you were doing to those flowers,” he continued in wonder, tilting his head to the side before smiling friendly and straightening his head up on his shoulders. “So.. What are you doing?”


→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have  on the site (current and previous): Crow & co.

How did you find us?: Followed the trail back home ♡

CHARACTER INFORMATION

Character Name: Callan Alastair Fraser
Gender: Male
Age: 10, born May 1st 1948
Bloodline: Halfblood

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?):
Mother: Nairna Fraser, farmer and housewife.
Father: Robert Reed Fraser, farmer and radio broadcaster.
They are currently NPCs, but they might be played in the future.

Residence:
The Fraser Farm, close to Inverness, Scotland. A large piece of land well known for farming trees for wand and broom-making and home to Callan, his parents, siblings, grandfather, aunt, uncle and cousins – as well as some workers.

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?
Not at this time, but I will apply him for Hogwarts next term.

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

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Geryon Crowley & co.

Biography:
"Callan," she whispered, as a tear of joy ran down her apple red cheek. "Callan Alastair," she repeated, louder this time, cradeling the newborn boy in her arms. "Welcome, Callan Alastair," the voices sounded in response. All happy. Joyful. Proud. Robert, Willanius, Feradorah, Bearnard and Tilda – as well as some members of the neighboring clans, all stood in a circle around Nairna and her child. The trees of the family farm surrounding them, protecting them. Willanius and his sons stepped into the middle, Robert was carrying the shovel. He dug a hole and the three of them kneeled down. Willanius raised his hand – holding the seed of a tree. Everyone closed their eyes as he began to whisper in Gaelic. Following the last word the seed was planted in the ground. After returning the soil with his hands, Robert walked over to his wife and son, with a smile that felt like it stretched all the way around. Leaning down he kissed Nairna's forehead before placing his soil-covered thumb on his son's. "Fàilte, my lad," Robert said, before taking the child into his arms. "I have a son!" He exclaimed towards the rest, and they all cheered in response.

---

Peeking over his shoulder, Callan could see them over by the Hawthorns, doing whatever it was that they were doing.. The young Fraser boy frankly wasn't interested in the care of trees , but he certainly liked climbing them! Although, it had become a rather risky affair, as his grandpa had given clear instructions as for which trees were strictly off limits. Instructions that Callan probably remembered for a maximum of 7 minutes. But this tree right here, it pretty much begged to be climbed – with all these perfectly climbable branches poking out in every direction. It was exactly tall enough to be exciting, and not so dense that he would be robbed of the spectacular view he was after on the top. Yet, dense enough that his granparents working close by would have trouble spotting him, if this was indeed one of the “no climb trees”. Carefully he placed his feet, reached for a new branch and pulled himself further up. He was getting good at this, it was almost too easy! That was the last thought that passed through his head before the crack reached his ears and he felt the support vanish from beneath his feet. Down he fell, scratching his face and being slapped by quite a few branches along the way. With a thump he landed flat on the grass – a big broken branch laying next to him.

"Auch," Callan whispered, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Immediately he heard his name being yelled, the voice coming nearer with every breath he took. "Callan Alastair Fraser, I told you, I told you not to climb this tree!" Willanius shouted in dispair, kneeling – not beside the boy, but the branch next to him. "Look what you've done," he continued, voice lower now, shaking as he picked up the severed branch. Callan bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears. Not cause he hurt from the fall, but he really hated dissappointing those he cared about. The old man took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he put the branch back down. "Are you allright?" he asked, as Feradorah came running up behind him. "I'm sorry," Callan whimpered, not daring to open his eyes. "Not to worry, my dear," his grandmother lovingly said as she sat down by the boy and picked him up into a hug, just as the water could no longer be contained in the child's eyes. "Wounds and scratches will heal, for little lads and trees alike," she continued, stroking Callan's hair and sending a loving gaze towards her husband. "And while I think I have just the thing to help you dry your tears in my kitchen, no one is better at helping trees heal than your grandfather," she assured. Callan peeked up now, feeling a weight of his shoulders as he saw his grandfather smile. "The tree will be allright, lad," he eventually said. "And you can help me care for her tomorrow, if you'd like." Callan quickly nodded. He wanted nothing more than to make ammends. Reaching over to the branch, Fernadora took a piece of bark from it and placed it in Callan's small hand. "And maybe we can find some way to help you remember what trees like to be climbed on and which don't," she said, receiving a nod in response.

---

"You're going to need a new chair soon, lad! Did you see, Tilda, how long his legs have gotten?" Callan was grinning wide with a mouth full of roast and mashed potatoes when he heard his uncle speak. He did indeed feel like he had grown a lot this past winter, and of course uncle Bearnard would be the first to notice. It was a tradition in their family, that everyone got their own chair made from wood from the farm, and as they became older they eventually made their own. He particularly liked grandfather Willinius' chair – it was more like a throne with it's tall back and decorated armrests. Dad's was rather neat as well – it had so many carvings and decorations, and mom had painted it in really pretty colors. "I'm telling you Rob, soon he'll be joining my team!" Bearnard said and winked at his nephew, who had already scooped his fork ready for the next bite. Callan hoped he was right – he'd love to be a quidditch player, just like uncle Bear. The mood around the table was energic as always. Laughter and smiles, and mom's delicious cooking. "Maybe so, but quidditch players eat their vedgetables, right Bear?" his mother Nairna said with a smirk and sent her son an encouraging look. Whilst chewing, Callan took a long look at the broccoli on his plate, weighing it back and forth in his mind, before just about being able to fit it on the already stuffed fork. "Speaking of Quiddith!" his dad Robert shot in. "Guess what famous top player will be joining my radio show this Thursday?" There was no hiding the excitement in his voice. Robert Reed Fraser was very, very excited about his broadcasting. "Is it me?" Bearnard replied teasingly, without getting any attention. "Giles McCorrin! Captain of the King Kelpies!" Callan heard the gasps around the table and although he didn't know much about quidditch, even he could feel that this was something big. After they had all gibbered on about the McCorrin guy for a while, Callan turned to face his grandfather. "Grandpa, when will I get my wand?" he asked. Willanius grinned and leaned in. "Now that my good lad, that is an excellent question indeed."



Roleplay:
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:
Callan really enjoyed tagging along to deliver wood for the various wandshops and broommakers in the area. He got to see new places, meet new people and best of all – often get treats from the people they stopped by. He had become sort of a mascot by now and seldom complained about it.

Although, there were times when the waiting was a bit more than he'd like. Dad would always talk with all and everyone – customers, aquaintances, people who listened to his radio show... There were always people stopping him ever so often – if he didn't see and stop them first. And sure, it was nice, but they could end up talking for what felt like forever..

And yes, this was indeed one of those moments. They had just finished the last delivery of the day and were heading through the park to get some well deserved ice cream. But of course dad had met someone who he knew from somewhere and was now stuck knee deep in conversation. Callan scratched his nose as he leaned back on a tree a few feet away from his dad.

All of a sudden he heard someone cry out next to him.

“You! Do you want to play?”

Turning around he spottet a girl with what looked like a broom in her hand. Callan's eyes widened in excitement and he grinned without even realizing it. "Do I!" he answered without hesitation and pushed away from the tree and walked closer. "Is that your broom?" he asked, looking at it and then back at her. "Is it fast?"

OTHER
How did you find us? I followed the trail back home.. ♡