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Topics - Lily Sinclaire

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Elsewhere Accepted / Lily Sinclaire
« on: 12/07/2015 at 03:01 »

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

Character Name: Lily Elina Sinclaire
Gender: Female
Age: 33
Blood Status: Muggle-born

Graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, class of 1929 (Slytherin).

London, England

Reporter for the Daily Prophet

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?
The Daily Prophet

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: 7
  • Divination: 6
  • Transfiguration: 8
  • Summoning: 11
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
None, yet.

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Home. The smell of sea salt and sweat, of leather and tobacco. These were remnants of a time long past. 33 years ago, on December 2, 1911, Lily Elina Sinclaire was born in Southend-Of-Sea, England to parents who had decided to quit two children ago. Her father, an operator at the Kursaal funfair, was a kind and loving man, trying his hardest to provide for his wife and four children, Lily being the youngest. The pay of a ride operator was meager, and not nearly enough to provide for a family of six, especially with three growing and ravenous boys to feed, so Lily’s mother also ran a cobbling business from their home. The work was unfamiliar to her, as she came from a well-to-do family from London (she eloped with Mr. Sinclaire at the ripe age of 17). So, the children were forced to stay home, spending long hours sewing soles into boots to make ends meet.

Grief always colored her father’s face when she asked about school. “We cannot afford it, dear,” she knew he would say. But she had a voracious appetite for learning and discovering. Thankfully, her mother refused to have uneducated children. In between working hours, she made sure to teach Lily and her brothers the basics of reading, writing, and arithmetic. Lily ate it up. She devoured every book in the house within weeks and begged her father to bring back more. Despite their low finances, he tried to bring her one every now and then, in return for the most brilliant smile he had ever laid eyes upon.

Of their four children, Lily was the only one to show any magical talent. All around her, little things would change or magically appear, a phenomenon that led Mr. Sinclaire to refer to his daughter as Lady Luck. Lily realized she truly was special when she magically repaired a shoe in an instant. All day, she had begged her mother to let her go read the new book father had brought home. After many refusals, her mother finally relented, allowing her to read after the last shoe in her pile was complete. Lily blinked, and when she opened her eyes, they grew wide as saucers. There before her, lay a completely finished shoe. When he returned home, her father laughed, scooping her up in his arms and ruffling her fiery red hair. “I always knew you were my little Lady Luck.”

Magical talent lit a fire of excitement inside little Lily, driving her passion for learning to new heights. The day she received her Hogwarts letter was the happiest day of her life. She threw herself into her books, ignoring the reproachful looks from her brothers and on occasion her mother. She knew that once she had gone to school, she would conjure riches and then they would see that she truly was Lady Luck.

Lily’s life at Hogwarts went smoothly until her 5th year. It was a clear morning, birds singing sweetly in the distance, that she sat in the Great Hall, laughing over a terribly funny joke her beau had made. Her face was flushed, her eyes shining when the owls swooped in, dropping packages and letters to the students below. A single letter landed in Lily’s lap, startling her slightly. She thought nothing of it, as she slid her finger through the sealing wax with a smile on her face. “It must be from father,” she announced. She was half right. The letter fell from her hands, tears springing to her eyes. Her father was dead.

He committed suicide, her mother informed her, hate and reproach in her eyes. Her words whipped Lily’s mind around as if she had stuck her head in a tornado. “Fat lot of good ‘Lady Luck’ did him, eh? You learning anything useful at that hocus-pocus school or are you lazing about leaving all the work to us?” Her mother was right, she knew her mother was right. She was his Lady Luck, and she had abandoned him – had abandoned her whole family. But even as she knew that, she knew she could not stop now. After the funeral, she returned to Hogwarts, breaking things off with her beau and throwing herself into her schoolwork. The once bright-eyed girl took on a dull, placid look. Her voice seemed to have abandoned her along with her smile. Her friends kept their distance, not sure what happened to their cheerful friend. They didn’t realize she had died with her father. After several long nights of thinking, reading, and sobbing quietly in the library, she made a vow: she would do whatever necessary, be whoever necessary, to live up to her father’s expectations and support her family, with or without their good graces.

Lily has kept that promise to this day. She will do anything and everything necessary to seek out stories and climb the ranks of the Daily Prophet, ethical or not. She loves the feel of the hunt, stalking her target, and eavesdropping on their most secret and personal moments. Grief and apathy have long rid her body of guilt, leaving her only with the sensation of ecstasy.Part of the money she makes from the Prophet still goes to her family, though not a one of them will speak to her. Proud as they are, they are not too proud to accept her gifts. Scandal never sleeps, so neither will Lily, unless and until something comes along to shake up her world.


Option One -
Amelia Nixon was many things, but she was never a pushover reporter that people could just usher away with a busy shuffle past. She was dedicated and eager to cut to the very middle of the current political tensions because she was Amelia Nixon and her articles would most certainly become front page material.

“Sir, please! It’s for the Prophet, how do you feel-“

Another one brushed passed her, the shuffling busy masses making their way through Diagon Alley for the lunchtime rush. This had been the best possible time to get people, but none of them were giving her anything to go with.

Only momentarily discouraged, the short red headed lady took a seat on a nearby bench. Her quill resting in her left hand and her notepad ready in the opposite hand. Amelia pouted, tapping the quill against her leg as she scanned the waves of people for somebody - anybody - who looked like they had something to say.

She had been dreaming of her name in bold print, Amelia Nixon: The Source of Today’s Tomorrow. She had been dreaming of the larger office and the secretaries that would fetch her the morning coffee and fetch her anything she needed. The VIP interviews and the most exclusive press passes. But all Amelia had was a page seventeen piece on the rising number of frogs in London.

Hardened by a day of no success, the reporter stood up and started to trod off down the alley. A loose stone on the cobble path caught her heel, sending the distraught girl toppling down to the ground.

“Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!” she yelled as she tried desperately to recover her shoe frantically in the middle of the Diagon Alley moving crowds.

Roleplay Response:
Shrewd green eyes scanned the crowd from an iron bench, searching for something, anything of interest. It was crowded on Diagon Alley today, a fact that would normally send Lily packing with fur bristling. But not today. Today, she was on the prowl, looking for a story. She had been positioned on the street for a near 45 minutes, gauging the crowd’s mood. If they were affected by the current political turmoil, she had not yet noticed it. A weary sigh escaped her lips. Were people that uncaring and oblivious? “It would make my job so much easier if people were just a little intelligent,” she muttered to herself, glaring down an attractive man who seemed to be making a move to take a seat next to her. She was in no mood for any wizard’s weak attempts at romance today. No, she was here on business.

Lily had almost given up her position entirely when she was startled by the shout of a familiar voice. Narrowed eyes caught glimpse of another redhead scrambling around for a small object in the middle of the street. “Merlin’s beard,” Lily muttered, running her fingers through her mane. Standing slowly, she sauntered over to the damsel in distress, parting through the crowds with relative ease. “Nixon,” she drawled, smirking at the girl from above, “come to steal my thunder again?” It seemed to Lily that her fellow reporter showed up everywhere she did. And she knew that little miss Nixon wanted that promotion. Well, she had better forget it. Lily had set her sights on that job weeks ago, and she never allowed herself to lose. The crowd parted around them, allowing Lily to scoop up the shoe and hold it out to her unlucky companion.

“Here,” she offered, the tiniest of smiles playing at her lips, “you won’t find a good story down there. I’ll walk you back to the office.”
And away from my story.

How did you find us? Google

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