Professor applications are open until December 15th!

Recent Posts

Pages: 1 2 [3] 4 5 ... 10
Student Applications / Emrys Blue
« Last post by Emrys Blue on 03/12/2018 at 03:14 »

Application for Hogwarts School


Name: Emrys Abraham Blue

Birthday: October 5th, 1939 

Hometown: Linz, Austria. He moved to Northumberland, England after only a few years in Austria that he barely remembers and has never returned since. 

Bloodline: Muggleborn

Magical Strength (pick one): Charms

Magical Weakness (pick one): Transfiguration

Year (pick two): Fourth (1st choice), Fifth


the only reason why i continue at all
faith in reason, i wasted my life playing dumb
signs and wonders, sea lion caves in the dark
blind faith, god’s grace, nothing else left to impart

Emrys Blue drowned the summer before he turned ten years old. 

The boy was sitting on a rock in the ocean. It was rather far out and if he or his sister realized this, neither of them chose to say anything about it, and instead talked about cloud patterns and counting lightning bolts. Dark waves crashing against his dangling feet and thunder cracking like bombs made of popcorn. A girl sat next to him, his sister, and her eyes were closed as rain rain rain poured from the grey sky and landed in perfect drops on her face. Faraway on the shore was a cottage where their mother and her husband were yelling and throwing things, but this was just a speck in the distance; the storm was so near and so heavy and anything that couldn’t be seen was not to be thought of.

His sister listened to the rain and to the thunder and to Emrys, who was telling her stories about mermaids and starfish and ghosts with hypothermia. He splashed his bare feet in the water and smelled the salt in the air, wondering out loud about anything that flitted into his mind. Thunder crashed, lightning streaked the sky. And then it was silent. She opened her eyes and Emrys was gone. She screamed and the storm drowned her out. So she jumped.

And then she saved him, somehow, even though neither of them knew how to swim and when she jumped and opened her eyes she saw nothing but the dark. Years later, all she can remember of what happened after he fell in was, after oxygen was breathed back into Emyrs’ lungs, the two of them bundled in white towels and shoved in front of a fireplace as their mother hugged them wordlessly while their father yelled in the background.

This was the moment of Emrys’ life that changed everything. He had seen something in that water, he would insist for a few days and then, later, refuse to say anything at all about it, in that darkness. It was something that could have been the face of God or the core of the universe or his own heart, something beautiful and terrible all at once. And this was the moment that gave Emrys the hope for good even though he’d been brought into an empty world that didn’t particularly want him in it.

A month after, Emrys’ stepfather would sell their summer home. A month after that, his mother would start coughing and hurting a lot until suddenly, he was not allowed to see her. Two weeks after that, she would die in the middle of the night, choking on her own breath from the tuberculosis in her lungs, and for months after that, he would not be able to sleep without imagining how she died, alone and scared and not knowing that he loved her more than words could describe. Emrys and his sister would sit Shiva on their own while their stepfather spent the seven days passed out on the couch stinking of alcohol and grief. And during that time Emrys’ face would burn constantly from leaked tears or battery acid and he would pray to the God or to the light or to the dark that had pulled him from the ocean and saved his life; he would pray with the fervor of only the most desperate or the most hopeful. And what he prayed for was this: That there was a heaven and that his mother was there, and that one day he feel less alone.

Ten days after his mother’s funeral, Emrys curled into his sister’s embrace and dreamed of his mother. She had survived the Shoah while pregnant with him, and in his dream he saw her tripping over roots and running through trees as the oppressive night sky watched from above, cold and empty as stars, and he was running next to her even though history had not happened that way. When he woke, he was smiling even as tears fell and stained the pillow, even as his stepfather yelled and smashed bottles, even as his whole world fell apart.

The year after, he received a letter, informing him of his magic and subsequent place at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry the coming term. It was the answer to his prayers, and for three years Hogwarts became an escape from the ghosts at home.

A week into summer holiday before returning to Hogwarts for his fourth year, Emrys had an explosive argument with his stepfather, who was becoming increasingly more unstable. His sister had, years earlier, moved out and gone to university, and as such summers had become unbearable. What the fight had been about was insignificant. What only mattered was that Emrys had decided that he could no longer live with the man, not for a minute longer.

So he packed up his bags and, without a word, returned to Hogwarts for the summer. Only something had changed in him. Something had made him stand a little different. Crooked, maybe, or with more intent. Whatever it was, Emrys was no longer who he was the week before. And maybe this was the year he figured out who, exactly, that was.

should i tear my eyes out now?
everything i see returns to you somehow
should i tear my heart out now?
everything i feel returns to you somehow


House Request: i’m leaning Ravenclaw, but i could also see slytherin or even hufflepuff… feel free to sort!

He comes across as a rather mysterious boy, and he rather likes the idea of being speculated about. He doesn’t particularly like anyone knowing anything about his past and likes coming up with strange stories and lies to mess around with people. He never it takes it very far, but as someone that is very good at lying, he finds it all a big amusing. Unless given a particular reason to trust someone, he tends to keep his secrets to himself. That way, he has no chance of hurting himself or anyone else with whatever is going on with him at the moment.

He tends to say things sardonically and sarcastically - it’s comforting for him to know that others believe him to be cynical and aloof instead of his true nature, which is actually one that sees the absolute good in every single person he knows. This rather remarkable belief in the inherent goodness of humankind stems from his belief in a higher power, whether it be God or another divine, that was created from his near-death experience as a child and also his mother’s faith in God. Emrys finds safety in contradicting his core beliefs. If no one knows how he truly feels then no one will know who he truly is, which in turn will keep him from getting hurt.

His sensitivity to world and its suffering is seen by him as a sort of weakness. He can’t help his awareness and empathy of others’ suffering, but he can pretend to be the opposite, which tries to do but usually fails miserably at. Emrys often sympathize with the people that have hurt him, even when they are entirely at fault. All of it somehow leads to him placing the blame of most situations on himself. Therefore, as an obviously flawed defense mechanism, he erects 9-foot thick walls between himself and most everyone that he suspects could care about him.

This being said, certain situations and people bring down that wall and reveal the softness inside of him. He has a particular soft spot for animals (especially weird looking ones) and anyone that he feels he needs to protect. He also feels a special kinship with other Jewish people, as he’s declared that Jews should always stick together. And anytime he’s tired (which is almost always… he never sleeps but always needs it) brings out the goofiness in him; this is when he is most prone to anything from bouts of wild dancing and adventures to sudden breakdowns. But talking to a sleepy Emrys is a tricky business - he can either be overly emotional, ridiculously silly, and grumpy. He is also particularly weak when it comes to baked goods and caffeine - a slice of blueberry pie and steaming cup of coffee are fool-proof ways to get him to warm up to you.

His mother’s parents (who were both muggles) were killed in concentration camps early in the war. Emrys is deeply proud of his Jewish heritage, which was a trait instilled in him by his proud mother, and keeps kosher as a result. His earliest memories are of the war,the house’s basement that he and his mother were sheltered in until he was three years old, and fleeing to England to avoid persecution.

Emrys is naturally curious and is especially interested in art, music, nature, mythology, and the strange workings of the universe. Finding people that love the same things as him often lead to him talking passionately about the subject for far more time than necessary. When he is interested in something, he tends to get lost in learning absolutely everything he can about it, sacrificing sleep and other “less important” things to gain more knowledge about whatever has piqued his interest. This results in a horrible habit of completely disregarding important things like homework assignments, responsibilities, and the fact that human beings need to sleep and eat to survive. Even when he’s not latched onto a special interest, he’s scatterbrained and daydreaming, and rarely pays attention to things that he deems, whether subconsciously or consciously, unimportant.

To sum up, Emrys gives off a rather aloof and cynical first impression. He can sometimes be impossible to deal with (especially in the morning, before his coffee), but despite his whole-hearted attempts at proving otherwise, most people know that he’s filled with a remarkable capacity for love and is actually a ridiculous softie that dances badly, loves sweets, and is severely sleep-deprived. He’s just looking to be found, to be loved, and to be cared for.

Emrys is tall and slender, with long limbs that allow him to take long, striding steps and spontaneous bouts of (usually bad) dancing. He’s got a young, sad, even pretty look about him, with his pale, lightly freckled face, dark, messy curls, and long lashes. His large, doe-ish, grey-blue eyes are very expressive and tend to give away his true emotions, often contradictory to his words.

His style is casual yet somewhat odd - he tends to wear very random shirts that he finds in muggle stores (his favorite is a yellow t-shirt with a dancing skeleton on it). He loves sweaters, especially ones that practically swallow his entire frame like a blanket, and enjoys a strange colored/patterned sock. He rarely participates in any of the typical trends of the era and dresses entirely to appease himself. He doesn’t really have the time or brain power to care too much about his appearance. As such, his hair is often messy, his socks mismatched, shoes rarely tied, wire-frame glasses eskew, and always late to something or another. 


Option I:

The dungeons were dreaded by many, and while Emrys understood where this came from (the damp air, the strangely metallic smell, the overall feeling of foreboding and anguish, etc.), he found a certain comfort in the places that most avoided. There was an electric peace to it, to the unsavory and unexplored, and it was also the only place where he could really get some semblance of quiet.

Pulling out a sheet of parchment and, well, a piece of chalk (he’d left his quill and ink in his room, again, and for some reason he always had a few loose pieces of chalk rolling around in his bag and covering everything with blue dust), he crouched down on the stone floor and started writing. It was a letter to his sister Esther, who had long since gotten used to his small, sloppy, chalk-smudged writing.

He was in the middle of recounting his recent potions adventure that had involved something that was quite possibly the most accurate physical representation of a fart anyone had ever seen when a small voice called something out. The words echoed through the stone walls and he frowned, shoving the parchment back into his bag. No, there wasn’t Emma Birch here, and he said so.

“Emma Birch isn’t here, I think.” Emrys was rather certain it was a first year on some kind of dare - they were always forced to do scary and silly things, and he would bet his left ear on this girl being from Gryffindor. The upperclassmen could be particularly vicious in their pranks. “Who are you?”


Please list any characters you have  on the site (current and previous): none.

How did you find us?: searching the world wide web.
Hogwarts School Accepted / Ellen Lavrovsky
« Last post by Ellen Lavrovsky on 02/12/2018 at 22:05 »

Application for Hogwarts School


Ellen Lavrovsky

October 8th, 1943

Haringey in London, England


Magical Strength (pick one):

Magical Weakness (pick one):
 Conjuring & Summoning

Year (pick two):
Year One or Year Two

My little Kroshka… We are finally home, safe and sound.

There was, perhaps, no greater challenge to Vaslav Lavrovsky than protecting his family following the end of World War II. As a war veteran, he had managed to survive the devastating attack by the Germans, coming away with injuries he’ll carry for the rest of lifetime but alive nonetheless. When Vaslav returned home, east of the destructive front, he was overjoyed to find that his wife had survived and that she had a child. As it turned out, the day before Vaslav’s drafted day of service, his last night with his wife had managed to produce a child. His little Kroshka, Elena Lavrovsky had lived two whole years before her father returned. He vowed that from then on, his life was to her and his wife.

Vaslav wasn’t the smartest man. He had no formal education and worked almost his entire life as a carpenter in Volsk, but he had a feeling that life in the Soviet Union would present a risk to his family. During the immediate post-war reconstruction, he took his family and fled to the West determined to start a new life elsewhere. The journey was difficult but despite his intention to immigrate to the United States, he found a fair paying position for his trade in London. The Haringey Borough of London had been smashed by German planes and the need for skilled tradesmen had presented this promising job, even for a Russian national.

With a little life carved out, Elena adjusted well to the English culture, much better than her parents. She learned English naturally growing up as her parents pushed for that, even changing her name to sound roughly more English, Ellen (not understanding that Eleanor is actually French). Additionally under Citizen of the United Kingdom and Colonies Act of 1949, her father managed to get her recognized as an English citizen. For the most part, everything seemed simple to her father. Of course, he hadn’t recognized some of the signs of something more radiating from his daughter.

It wasn’t until about nine or so that Ellen had discovered she had the power to do special things. She was capable of magic, as it turned out, and her parents were completely blindsided when the letter came. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? What was that? It took a few more persistent letters before Vaslav, uncomfortably, agreed.

Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.

House Request:
I defer to the Sorting Hat.

Ellen maintains her parents’ legacy through her personality and is quite the handful for an only child. She has a strong willpower and manages to obtain goals through her determination to see things through. Often times this leads to stubborness on her part as challenges to her methodology will be met with refusal. She is not afraid to speak her mind and her open honesty has lead to some scolding by her parents. Fairly gregarious and friendly, she maintains a lot of friends or at least tries to, as spending times with friends is something she enjoys. She does have a nasty habit of holding onto grudges and transgressions against her, recalling even the smallest slight to make a point. She hates to be ridiculed and judged, even missing the difference between criticism and ridicule and deemed attacks against her character incite her wraith.

Blonde hair, blue eyes, fair complexion with little imperfections and a build that is considered thin and bony. She is one of shorter children compared her age. All-in-all, she looks a lot like her parents and displays an example of the Russian genetics.


Option I:

“She went to the dungeons?” Ellen asked after inquiring about a group of older girls across the common room laughing. The story was already spreading among the Gryffindor common room. The dungeons always had an unnerving atmosphere and it was, without a doubt, the scariest part of the castle proper. The thought had occurred to her that maybe this was some sort of prank but also that this was a way to show true bravery. That’s what the Gryffindor house motto was. Why hadn’t Ellen been asked to go to the dungeons, in that case? The true answer eluded her but the answer she went with was it was a bravery test.

Ellen turned and began heading towards the common room door. One of the girls asked where she was going and Ellen turned around. “I’m not scared to go either!” She insisted before heading out the door.

Of course saying it was much easier in the common room than being there. Walking to potions with friends and walking the dungeon corridors alone were certainly two different things as Ellen soon found out. It was unnervingly quiet when you wandered in alone. Sounds that you would have normally never focused on became things that you suddenly put a story to. That creaking sound? A rumbling monster in the walls.

Yet Ellen felt the need to press on. She felt like she had to prove herself here, too. She stiffened her resolve and moved deeper into the dungeons, whispering that things were okay and trying her best not to focus on anything but walking straight ahead. She froze when she could have sworn she heard a mumble from just around the corner. W-was it Evangeline or something else?

"Hello! Is Emma Birch here?"

Ellen almost jumped out of skin from the sudden volume increase but she felt relief, it was only Evangeline. Ellen rounded the corner with a smile, “Evangeline, yes? I found you!” She said, stepping up to grab the other girl’s hand. “Come on, let’s find Emma Birch together. It’ll be easier with two of us looking.”


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

How did you find us?:
A friend mentioned this site and a quick search allowed me to find it.
Archived Applications / Phoenix Starr [WIP]
« Last post by Phoenix Starr on 02/12/2018 at 20:50 »

Application for Hogwarts School


Name: Phoenix Starr

Birthday: 08.08.1940

Hometown: Cumbria, England


Magical Strength (pick one):
Conjuring & Summoning

Magical Weakness (pick one):

Year (pick two): Fifth/Fourth

Born in 1940 to Valkor and Phoebe Starr, Pheonix was the second of two daughters. Her half sister Fallon (born from Valkor Starr's first marriage) was different to Nix in several ways, she was a mean, bitter, selfish and most importantly, a squib born with no inheritance to their shared father's magical abilities whatsoever. The two sisters never saw eye to eye, and although Phoenix tried to put there differences aside for the families sake, it never lasted. As they grew older and Nix started to show her abilities her sisters envy grew bigger and her resentment grew like wildfire in her sisters eyes.

Nix and her family live in a small cottage between the thick forest in Cumbria nearby the Lake District. Phoenix loves her home, or rather the wildlife that surround it, often choosing to spend her free time there and use it as a means of escape when things with Fallon became too difficult. With Her Mother being a Nature Photographer and her Father, a Magizoologist they were often away working for their professions, visiting foreign countries in search of exciting new creatures and beasts to study. Unfortunately for Phoenix that often meant Aunt Augrey was there to belittle and embarrass in their place. 

When Nix was younger, she saw her fathers abilities as a curse. Something that made her different and because of it she was exiled and punished for it by her sister and aunt. But growing up surrounded by her own at Hogwarts she quickly became nothing short of fierce and confident - natures true wild child - She finally stood up to her sister last summer and now about to enter her fifth year at Hogwarts she is on her game and ready to swing a bat. Phoenix truly has become a force to be reckoned with and all those that cross her should beware.

Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.

House Request: Gryffindor

Phoenix is Adventurous, back home she loves to swim in the lake, fish and climb trees. Much like her Mother, Nix likes to take photos and write stories, she also shares her Fathers keen interest in animals and creatures of all kind, But her favourite thing to do it to discover new things and meet new people.

Nix has developed fighter's spirit from her sisters bullying. she'll fight anyone. she'll fight you. she'll fight your dog. she'll fight even herself. if that doesn't interest you—which it should, by the way, or else Phoenix will seriously consider fighting you—then something must be very wrong.

But despite Nix's readiness to fight anything and anyone, she's still a good person!! like, she makes these amazing lemon cookies. and she'll go on adventures too (so as long as she's the leader, but hush hush!) and maybe if you're super duper incredibly nice, she might even.... maybe become.... your FRIEND!?!?

(and then you'll teach her how to finally cartwheel and then she'll be in your debt forever and we'll all live happily ever after)

She is slightly dramatic at times and she isn't the brightest, but her imagination and cheery outlook on life more than makes up for her lack of academia. She is foolhardy and boisterious and wants to do all the things, and a few broken bones aren’t going to stop her. not for long, at least, because when she got a leg cast she couldn’t do anything except whack people with her crutches. she will do things without thinking and say things without a care. consequences don’t exist when it comes to miss Starr (unless you’re a teacher or her mom, because those people scare her to bits.)

despite all these traits, Phoenix is glad to say she isn't mean or anything. in everything she does, she means well, and if you become her friend, you have a nuisance friend for life. c:

Appearance: Nix and the rest of the Starr's are a bit bohemian and wild looking but still very beautiful. Nix takes some pride in her appearance but is not overly groomed. A brush through the hair a few times a week is usually enough to suffice. She likes to be unique so she doesn't really tend to follow fashion in either the muggle or the wizarding world. She is a bit of a hippy/free spirit type of girl.

Nix and the rest of the Starr's are a bit bohemian and wild looking but still very beautiful. Nix takes some pride in her appearance but is not overly groomed. She has her mothers eyes which are a light shade of emerald and distinctive.

Note: This section is only for students who have been previously played at Hogwarts. Please see here for more information about Castle Dropouts levels/how many levels you are eligible to claim.

Link to your last levels request (if you never posted one, link to your last accepted student application): Application

Number of New Levels Requested: +6

New Levels Request:C5D2T3S5

How your character kept up with their studies: Phoenix continued her studies at Hogwarts. Although she has struggled academically more than most students she has put in extra time at the library to study and keep up with her grades so she did not fall behind.

You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character. Remember, you can only roleplay your own character's actions, not Evangeline's or Hugh's.

Option I:

Phoenix was brave and she wanted to prove that to her new housemates. The dungeons at first didn't seem all that scary to Nix, but that changed once she was informed at the sorting ceremony that a girls ghost hung around down there. Firstly, what sort of school let people die? (Perhaps her sister was better of as she was), and secondly, why was she even hanging around the dungeons of all places? There were so much nicer places in the castle, if she was a ghost she would haunt the grounds or the rooftops or somewhere more scenic than somewhere made of cold bricks. It smelt like rancid old farts down there for Marlins sake!

Silly ghost.

She walked slow, one foot before the next, her hands clenched into two tight fists at her side, ready to pounce. Before long another shadow appeared at the end of the corridor. Was this the ghost girl she had been told about?

It called out a name and her hands shot up before her face. Emma Birch? Was that the girls name?

"Come out Birch!! I'm ready for yah!" She called running fast down the hall arms swinging before crashing into another student.

It appeared she was not the only student that had been sent on a wild ghost chase.

"Im so sorry. I thought you was the ghost girl!"


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

How did you find us?:
Hogwarts School Accepted / Samuel Whitmore
« Last post by Samuel Whitmore on 02/12/2018 at 17:49 »

Application for Hogwarts School


Name:  Samuel James Whitmore

Birthday: 15 October 1943

Hometown: Kingston upon Hull, Yorkshire

Bloodline:  Muggleborn

Magical Strength:  Charms

Magical Weakness: Transfiguration

Year (pick two): First, Second


“Do you think that’s why they got together?”

The more he thought about it (and he thought about it then, green eyes squinting up at the darkening clouds from where he sprawled in the grass, the look on his face the certain one that he got when he thought about things, like he was only a few steps away from solving a particularly difficult riddle), the more he was sure that it had to be the reason.  Over the last five hours, he had considered many other options and this, going now on hour six, was the one he thought was most plausible.

Sam looked to his left, his cheek pressing against the steadily-cooling grass.  Laura, laid beside him, was still watching the clouds, but the look on her face wasn’t the same one his still wore.  It looked the same as it had going on six hours ago now, before everything had changed.

“That they knew they both had a bit of magic in them, I mean.  Well--”

No, thought Sam, shaking his head.  That wasn’t quite right.  It hadn’t been their parents, after all, who had received letters from some funnily-named school; those had been addressed very carefully to himself and to Laura, down to the location of their respective bedrooms on the second floor of the family’s home.

“That they had enough in them to pass it on to us?”

The look he gave Laura then was pointed and much more serious than the looks he usually gave her, for this, in the world-shifting moment, was a serious matter.  Laura didn’t see it, still considering the clouds as they changed from the pink and orange of sunset to a dusky, deep blue.  Across the space between them, Sam reached out, nudging her bony shoulder.

“Oi,” he said.  “Are you even listening?”

“Of course,” she said, and she finally looked at him.  Her look was the same as ever, like she was smiling without actually smiling, and a little far away.

Sam didn’t think it looked like she was listening at all.

“Well then?”

“They didn’t know, Sam,” said Laura, in a voice that was as smooth and even as the falling nighttime.  “That woman said so.  They’re both--”  She only hesitated a moment before trying out the foreign word.  “--Muggles.”

“That’s not--”

That wasn’t what he meant.

Under usual circumstances, that might have been what he meant--that his mother and her father had of course not know, literally, that they harbored in their makeups some spark of something that had, when it combined with the makeups of their spouses, somehow created something magical.  He knew as well as Laura did that Mary Whitmore and Parker Berry had met at the corner pub after work and had bonded over their shared experience as single parents, and that it was that (and, as Sam had teased his mother then and still) several pints that had brought them together.  Under these circumstances (which he supposed were less circumstance and more reality now; his eyebrows pulled together, creating a furrow almost too deep to belong on an eleven-year-old’s face), however, magical was not a figure of speech but something very real, a special kind of inborn talent that both he and Laura were apparently possessed of, making them (Sam let out a disbelieving sort of sound even thinking it) a wizard and a witch, respectively.  That, at least, was what the letter they had each been delivered not quite six hours ago had said.  Sam still wasn’t sure of its authenticity.  It seemed like something Mic from school might do as a kind of prank to play, though Sam doubted Mic was possessed of such a level of creativity.

“It must be pretty rare, right, having two of us in one house that are--”  The word felt bulky in his mouth.  “--magic, when are parents aren’t?”

“Yes,” Laura said simply.  “It must.”

“I just mean,” he said, sure that Laura wasn’t getting what he meant at all, for her face was still smiling in that not-smiling way that after two months together now sharing the same bathroom and each other’s parents he was still not quite sure he understood.  “Maybe they knew, Mum and your dad, that you and me were special like this, and that they’d need each other’s help, having magic kids, even without really knowing, kind of like--”  He felt foolish even saying it, for it sounded much more like an idea that Laura might have than one Sam would come up with.  “Like their own kind of magic, maybe.”

For quite a quiet while, Laura looked and Sam, and Sam looked at Laura, and both of their expressions rubbed off on one another’s just enough so that Laura’s not-smile looked a little serious and Sam’s serious look was almost a smile. It was the blue-eyed girl that broke the silence first, discounting the crickets from the nearby hedge.

“You just found out your a wizard and that is what you’re thinking about?”

There were other things, too, of course, that Sam was thinking of, and all of them had been swirling around in turn in his mind since a very old woman who called herself Pythagorea had come round to the house, “instead of an owl,” she had said, not least among them that it seemed strange that it was owls, of all birds, that apparently carried magical peoples’ post instead of crows, which were much smarter, or pigeons, which he knew from his mother’s stories about his real father’s time in the war were entirely capable of carrying messages even in the worst of circumstances. He had worried if all his schooling so far would still be of use, for he couldn’t imagine a magical world in which knowing his 7’s and 12’s multiplication tables should be important, or if his new school would offer his favorite subject, natural science, or if they allowed Year Seven students to go out for the football team, if they had a football team at all and hadn’t replaced it with some magical sport played on the backs of dragons.  A part of him, one that he wouldn’t talk about even with Laura, thought about how it didn’t seem entirely fair, lumping this new change on top of him, when he had only just started to get to the last one--had only just found the best place to arrange his posters on the walls of his new room in Parker Berry’s new house so they got some sunlight but not enough to fade them pale blue, had only just stopped making vomiting faces behind his hand (so much, at least) at Laura when his mum and her dad kissed at the breakfast table, had only just started to say “Laura’s dad” or “my step dad” instead of “Parker” when referring to his mum’s new husband--and how he would almost be willing, if someone asked him when he was alone, to trade in this whole magical thing it it meant getting a solid chance to get used to the new normal of his life as it was.

“Yeah,” he said, because it would be simpler than trying to explain any of this.  It was getting dark, and it had only been five-going-on-six hours.  He’d have a lifetime to try and explain all that, he supposed.  Sam shrugged.  “So?”

“You’re not going to have a single friend at Hogwarts, Sam Whitmore,” said Laura Berry.

“Yeah, well,” he said, and for the first time in what was inching ever closer to six hours, the boy laughed, short but loud enough that their parents might hear it through the window that opened to the back garden.  Again, his hand reached out and gave her shoulder a shove, and it was more like the kind of shove he had given her when she was not Laura Berry who was his step-sister, and not when she was Laura Berry who had started coming over with her father for Sunday roasts, and not when she was Laura Berry who stole glances at him though the backseat window of her father’s car when he came round to pick Sam’s mother up, but when she was just Laura Berry with the red pigtails who went to school with him and sometimes tried to trip him in the hall.  “Good thing I’ll be stuck with you, isn’t it?”


House Request:  Ravenclaw, first choice.  Not Slytherin, second choice.


Samuel Whitmore is a good kid.

He may not seem like it at first, because it’s hiding under a few layers of Eleven Year Old Boy.  Most of the time, he’s not very serious, and is more than likely to tell you a joke or a story that starts with one time, I-- than spout a fact or start a deep conversation.  He’s easy going, especially around his friends, and can get a little wound-up when he’s hanging out with other boys, in which case he tends to really feed off their wreckless energy.  In these cases, he has been known to cause a ruckus.  He is generally kind, but is often teasing, particularly with boys he perceives as a little girly or with girls he perceives to be a little boyish.  Even the girls he finds himself crushing on--which are many and varied and constantly changing--find themselves on the receiving end of it now and then, but he’s much more likely to pay them a compliment (a habit picked up, perhaps, from years of giving them to his mum).

There’s three times that he can be trusted to take things seriously, and those are these:

One, school.  Brought up as the only son of a war widow mother in a thoroughly working class part of town, it’s been drilled into him since an early age that education is the way to move up in the world.  Though he’s not got much aspirations (of yet, at least) to move up, in so many words, the idea of taking his studies seriously (if only to please him mum) was one that stuck primary school.  It’s certainly reinforced by praise, and by the fact that he discovered early on that teachers are much more lenient with good students than bad ones when he and Mic from down the street both got caught taking a whizz on the fence at break but only Mic was punished when Mrs. Pritchett assumed it had been his ideas and not Sam’s because “Sammy wouldn’t do something so foolish.”  Somewhere along the lines, too, he actually started to really enjoy learning, though he’d never say anything so dorky out loud.  He particularly favors the natural sciences and history in the Muggle world, and is terribly excited to learn what the magical world has to offer.

Two, play.  For Sam, for now, that mostly means sports.  He grew up playing football in the parks with the neighborhood kids, and had high hopes of trying out for his school’s team before he got his Hogwarts letter.  Most probably, this will translate into a Quidditch obsession, if he can learn how to handle himself on a broom.  Since he works hard at schoolwork, he tries to balance it out with time spent at sport...though sometimes he treats sport a bit like school, looking up plays and famous players.  He thinks that this is also a way to connect with his father, who his mum assures him was very sporty and played in the Army Football Association before the war broke out.

Three, his friends.  This he is perhaps least outwardly serious about (that’s for pansies, after all), but when Sam becomes close with someone--which doesn’t take much, as he’s extroverted and chatty--he would do just about anything for them.  He’s willing to stay up late, or wake up early, or throw a punch if he needs to.

He can be vulnerable, particularly with his step sister, Laura, and his friend from Year Six, Ben, who never got his Hogwarts letter, or when circumstance lends itself to being a bit pensive.  He’s eleven, though, so barring major life changes such as the remarriage of his mother or something like finding out he’s a wizard and getting into Hogwarts, these times are few and far between.  His favorite food is a good meat pie, though he’ll never say no to a sweet, particularly from a pretty girl.  Last winter, his mum got him a bomber jacket for Christmas and it’s his favorite article of clothing, so he wears it every chance he gets.  The last book he read was Hogwarts: A History, but depending on who asked him, he might tell a white lie and say it was Quidditch Through the Ages (which he did read directly before, to be fair) because it sounds cooler.


For his age, Sam is of average height, and is built on the lithe end of the athletic side.  He’s only eleven, after all.  His hair is deep brown and curly--from his father, his mum’s always said--and doesn’t like to stay in place, so he can quite often be seen shaking it out of his eyes or trying to smooth one way or another without much success.  His eyes are green, almost the same shade as his mum’s, and his nose is quiet straight despite years of sport.  He can most usually be found wearing a smile that is easy going, but certainly has a particular look that overcomes him when he’s interested in something (his mum calls it the Sam Stare) or when he’s working on his studies.  He doesn’t care much for fashion and can be found wearing whatever is easiest or least dirty.


Option One:

“You fell for that, too?”

Sam had done exactly that--fallen for the legend of Emma Birch--only he had done it several days ago, within the first twenty-four hours of arriving at Hogwarts School.  As he walked up to his yearmate, he did so with a look on his face that said he had found himself similarly situated--which was to say, obviously cold and more than a little nervous--before, and the he had been as disappointed in the results that he was about to break to Evangeline then as he suspected she might be now.

“They pulled one over on us, Evangeline,” he said, because there always was a they when it came to things like this.  For him, it had been some of the older boys, the one with the cool hair chief among them, which he had overheard at the dinner table.  That was all it had taken to set the Whitmore boy off exploring, the desire to see a real live ghost overriding his usual compulsion for a sneaky peek into a book to back up such a wild claim first.  He had heard, after all, that Hogwarts had such things in the flesh, or whatever the equivalent of flesh was for ghosts, which he had supposed he could ask of the ghost herself upon finding her.  All he had found down in the dungeons that night was a kind of dank stink a bit like forgotten socks that clung to his jumper until the house elves (which were also something new and exciting) took it for washing.  From the jump Evangeline had given on his approach, he thought her search was probably just as useless, and certainly just as nerve-wracking.

“Emma Birch is about as much of a ghost as I am, and--” he said, then to prove that he wasn’t a ghost at all, he tried to shove his own hand through his stomach a few times.  It did little more than rumple his jumper (already soaking in that sock smell, he was sure) and make the muscles beneath twingle uncomfortably.

(He himself had found out later, knee-deep in the Spellbound archives, that Emma Birch had been a girl who had gone to school here but who had been killed, though not in the musty dungeons and certainly not by anyone who was still employed at the castle.  He had also found out that she was very good-looking for a dead girl, a fact that Sam, tucked away and out of sight of prying eyes, had found terribly conflicting.)

“But!”  He said it a little too loud, part to shake the image of Emma Birch’s haunting (but not really; he hadn’t found a single article about her being a ghost) eyes, and part because he thought it might make Evangeline jump again.  “One time, I saw one up in the Astronomy Tower.  I think it teaches the class.”  Sam hadn’t signed up for it; he could have taken that in regular--Muggle; he was still getting used to the new jargon--school and had instead filled his schedule with as much wand waving as possible.  Since he had seen the ghost floating up the staircase, he had only felt more sure in this decision.  “I bet if we were real quiet, we could sneak up there now.”

Sam smiled his most winning smile--a combination of daring and charming, or at least that was what his mother said.

“What do you say, Evangeline?  Want to go see a real ghost with me?”


Please list any characters you have  on the site (current and previous):  Virtue Hir and Friends Variety Hour

How did you find us?:  Ask Jeeves, probably, or some other embarrassing early internet search engine, likely by searching “make believe harry potter” or something wild.
Adults & Children / Re: lydia graham||elsewhere teen
« Last post by Lydia Graham on 02/12/2018 at 17:12 »

E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

Character Name: Lydia Wilhelmina Graham

Gender: Female

Age: Fourteen (presumed)


Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): 
Eric Graham - Adoptive guardian

A small wizarding village in west Scotland, near the sea.

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?
Hogwarts, mostly - possible a constant presence with St.Mungo’s psychological ward, too.

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:
Sirius Cíprio

Biography: (100 words minimum.)

A storm was coming, old Eric Graham could tell.

His feet were tired, but firm on the ground. Wolford’s Village was small but old, 15th century if not older. The old cemetery was older yet - the first stones so corroded by time you couldn't read them. It was also hard, and sometimes dangerous, to reach, being so far in the woods. No matter, for he knew these paths like the palm of his own hand.

The first sign were the trails.

The second, the opened gates.

His brows shooted up, nobody else really gave themselves the trouble to come here.

He remembers the howls he hears in the night, tucked in his home.

He remembers how often strange things have been reported in these woods.

Wand in hand, he decides proceed with caution. Just a little stunt, he tells himself, so while he pays his respects the beast may go away unharmed.

What he finds instead, at the feet of his wife and son’s grave, is a child.


Junior Healer Winnie gives up with a huff, cradling her hand to her chest. She was never that good with children anyway.

Healer Anne gives her a pat on the back “Leave her be, she will get out of there when she's ready.”

“What is wrong with her?” her murmur has an indignant tone to it - hardly the sort of thing one should use when talking about the patients of  the psychological ward, but, good Merlin, to bitten as if by a dog---

The older woman just shakes her head “Poor thing was found in the middle of nowhere some time ago, has been like that since then.” she motions with her chin to the small figure hiding under the table.

“She stayin’ here full-time?”

Healer Anne makes a noise that is like a bottle of self-righteous indignation being open, the certain prelude to hour-long complaints “Well, she clearly should, for intensive treatment, but ---”

By Morgause, why she always had to ask.


Despite the heat of summer, Lydia is shivering like a leaf. There's iced tea in the table in front her and Eric is never too far - tired, yes, but not complaining. Always too kind to complain.

Every night, Lydia Graham leaves her house.

She is never waken during this escapades.

For all that matters, she's no werewolf - it might be easier if she were.

But by every morning, there will be tea, treats, and a hot bath.

Reply as your character to the following:

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:
 The sun made her warm, and warmth made her lazy like her bones were made of goo. She wondered if worms and other invertebrate felt like that, too, just all the times - but then, cats seemed to do, so perhaps they were a better comparison. Though who knows, with cats.

 A broom zipped by up in the sky above where she was lying.

 Hogsmeade was --- well, kinda crappish, if you honestly asked her. Too little and alike back home to be anything new, too loud and nosey to be likeable. Eric would always shake his head and give her the disappointed eyes while preaching (sic) ‘how different environments were necessary for a good development’ when she said so, though, so Lydia mostly kept her trap shut.

 In past summers, he would also try to nudge her around other kids her age. After her little episode, they settled on a mutual agreement.

 From afar, however, watching human interaction wasn't that hard - even a bit of fun, on a very detached away. Like laughing in front of the TV or from something you heard on the radio. Just --- nice. No flight or fight or fidgeting or not knowing what she was supposed to be saying.

Two more brooms followed along.

"John, I said wait up!"

Talking about cats, older felines usually engage the younger ones on play-like activities, fighting mostly, even pretending to be actually hurt by the smaller ones - to boost their confidence.

On her personal observations, humans do not show the same trait.


Her first action was, tiringly always, to clamp up, fists and muscles and teeth clenching at any cause of outer distraction - that could come in the form of an actual apocalypse, or just a slight raised, harsher voice a few meters away from here she was.

It takes a few seconds to let it go. It always do.

“What d’ya want?!” her own tone was a bit vicious, like she was being cornered instead of just talked to. It was also completely stupid because the girl has already said what she wanted - and Lydia shouldn't be so worked up over one brat in the middle of nowhere, what the actual hell-- “I-- No.” comes out meekly.

Now that was a new level of lame.
Resources / Re: Face Claim
« Last post by Marcella Bryce on 02/12/2018 at 16:34 »
Character name: Marcella Bryce
Face claim (first name last name): Sabrina Carpenter
Link to accepted application/completed thread: Link
Student Applications / ACCEPTED: ♥ Aphrodite Foxe ♥
« Last post by Ella Galanis on 02/12/2018 at 15:51 »
Congratulations! This application has been accepted. Term begins on 1 January 2019.
Hogwarts School Accepted / Re: ♥ Aphrodite Foxe ♥
« Last post by Ella Galanis on 02/12/2018 at 15:50 »
Dear Miss Foxe,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Term begins 1 January 2019. Currently, students have gathered at Camp Loki, and we encourage you to spend your summer there. Should you choose, you may also visit our Elsewhere board via the Floo Network to visit or purchase school supplies.

Yours sincerely,

Ella Galanis
Head of Ravenclaw
Student Applications / ACCEPTED: Bracken Thomas
« Last post by Ella Galanis on 02/12/2018 at 15:48 »
Congratulations! This application has been accepted. Term begins on 1 January 2019.
Hogwarts School Accepted / Re: Bracken Thomas
« Last post by Ella Galanis on 02/12/2018 at 15:48 »
Dear Mr Thomas,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Term begins 1 January 2019. Currently, students have gathered at Camp Loki, and we encourage you to spend your summer there. Should you choose, you may also visit our Elsewhere board via the Floo Network to visit or purchase school supplies.

Yours sincerely,

Ella Galanis
Head of Ravenclaw
Pages: 1 2 [3] 4 5 ... 10