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Messages - Alexander Woodward

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Archived Applications / Alexander Woodward
« on: 14/12/2019 at 18:45 »
Name: Alexander Phillip Woodward

Birthday: 19 February 1947

Hometown: London


Magical Strength (pick one):
Conjuring & Summoning

Magical Weakness (pick one):

Year (pick two): 1, 2


Alexander. A conqueror's name, or so he'd been told. Although, what did a baby know about conquerors and warfare, about ancient empires and kings? The earliest he could remember being told about his name's illustrious history was probably around his preschool years. Alexander highly doubted that he understood any of what was being told to him back then.

He still didn't quite get the point, but his father and older brother and mother were pretty obsessed with it, and they had never led him wrong before. But names were pretty important in the world of adults, and Alexander definitely wanted to be a part of that. What could possibly be more exciting than being able to use magic, and make your own decisions, and tell children no?

When Alexander grew up, he was going to give his hypothetical children everything they wanted, almost as his father did. Except that his father said no, sometimes. Which was unfortunate for Alexander, but also supposedly good for him.

Alexander didn't have much memory of it, but in his preschool years, he had had a grand time trooping around the gardens of the London house, some stick he'd picked up from the ground in hand and a blanket tied around his neck billowing in the wind, pretending to attack and destroy imaginary enemies that were usually straight out of the children's books he read. Even when there was no natural breeze, his childhood self had always had a cape that was being blown by the wind.

Young Alexander had wanted desperately to learn magic. He'd seen his parents use it all the time, and with magic, you could do all sorts of great things. At the time, he'd thought only about destroying his imaginary enemies. Now, though, he realized that a wizard could shape the world to be what he wanted it to be, in ways both large and small. A wizard could conjure wind if he wanted. A wizard could set things on fire, could make people forget something that had happened mere moments ago.

What could be more dizzying than having the ability to do that? The great Alexander he'd been named for had been a wizard, hadn't he? He had probably been able to do that.

Alexander -- this Alexander, not the cool one -- wanted to be like that one day.

Phillip. That was his middle name, his long-dead grandfather's name. Alexander had heard much more about the great conqueror Alexander than about his measly old grandfather Phillip, but he did know that there were many, many awe-inspiring, regal men of ages past with the same name. Alexander wasn't much for history books himself, but his father definitely was, and the library at home was full of them, oak shelves nearly sagging under the weight of encyclopedic volumes on topics as dry as the Macedonian royal family and the life of Plato.

(His father had a weird interest in classics. It was a bit embarrassing. Everyone else's dads liked normal things, like Quidditch. His dad was out here talking about the ancient Athenian election system.)

As for Woodward, well, that was a name that he shared with everyone else in the London house, besides the House Elves. While his father stayed at home and read his books and talked to his friends about intellectual things like politics and classical history, his mother spent most of her time flitting from friend's house to friend's house like the butterflies Alexander had never been able to catch as a child. Alexander's older brother, Theodore, had always been made in their father's mould. He, too, was intellectual and reserved. He, too, was interested in history and the ancients.

Which left...which left, what exactly, for Alexander? Was he to be like his mother, in the way that Theodore was like their father? But he wanted more from himself than the kind of existence his mother led, and he wasn't sure he would be allowed to do what she did anyway. He had never met a man who spent all his time at home arranging flowers and laughing with friends and chatting about cake. Besides, he didn't know if he could live a life like that. Great men did things, and Alexander liked the sound of being a Great Man. They got books written about them, and statues made, and fathers taught their sons about their deeds long after their bodies were just dust.

Maybe that was his path. Maybe Alexander would be a Great Man, and men like his father would read about him to boys like him, a hundred or a thousand years from now.

And it all started here, at this moment, the same gardens but no blanket around his neck, the wind behind him and a real wand in hand instead of a stick. Maybe when he stepped out of that great gate, he'd be on his way.


House Request: Slytherin

Alexander is the youngest child in a family that puts a lot of value on history, tradition, and valour. Always following after his brother Theodore, Alexander just wants to be someone, especially one of the Great Men that his classics-obsessed father has taught him about. Ever since he was a child, Alexander has cast himself as a hero in his own stories, all revolving around the many great deeds he will perform and the magic he will master. Enchanted by the idea of everything he can do with magic, Alexander is eager to learn what he can and put it to use, so he can begin to become a Great Man, whatever that entails, and whatever it takes to get there.

Appearance: Alexander is a child trying to be grown up as quickly as possible, which means that despite being chubby-cheeked and small, as most eleven-year-old children are, he manages to look thoughtful and serious when he actively works at it. His dark brown hair and eyes lend themselves to that persona, but when he lets himself be a child his smile is endearingly large and enthusiastic.

Option 2:
Maybe it was a little stupid of him, but Alexander hadn't expected to run into someone sneezing all over the flowers and toddling about in the dirt and all around making a fool of themselves while he was trying to explore. The gardens at Hogwarts weren't quite like the ones at home, in that his mother clearly preferred order and good pruning much more than whoever was maintaining the gardens at Hogwarts, but they were reminiscent enough of his childhood stomping grounds that he had had to come to experience it.

After all, he might be at school now, and he was supposed to be learning all sorts of things, but that didn't mean he couldn't have some fun once in a while. And now he had a real wand to act out his future exploits with, and minor spells to enhance the show.

(Although, if he thought about it, trying and failing to produce sparks was probably not a good anecdote for his future biography as a Great Man.)

So here Alexander was, flitting around the gardens at Hogwarts, trying to find somewhere that had the right sort of glorious energy for him, and instead he had found an older student who had no glorious energy at all.

Alexander was about to open his mouth when the older boy let out a truly tremendous sneeze, and he promptly shut it again. Alexander was still staring, mildly horrified and yet unable to look away as the other boy wiped his nose on his sleeve, when he was caught.

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

Alexander promptly dragged his gaze around the vicinity, as if his eyes had only been lingering on the other boy for a smidge too long rather than the whole of the last minute.

The other boy looked much older than him, but Alexander was a younger brother and he was accustomed to talking back at Theodore, so this did not present much of an obstacle to his mouth.

"I wasn't staring," he blatantly lied, "and besides, it's not exactly polite to ruin the garden, is it?"

The trampled flowers around them seemed to rustle in the breeze as if to prove his point.


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