Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

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→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Easton Warwick

Birthday: April 8, 1952

Hometown: Clifton, Ireland

Bloodline: Halfblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Conjuring & Summoning

Magical Weakness (pick one): Divination

Year (pick two): Ickle fistie! Second as secondary.

Biography:
Easton didn’t – couldn’t – remember the day, but the story was legendry and told enough times that he could tell it backward if he wanted. The 8th of April 1952, the walls of the hospital room were white and stunk of sanitizer. Mom was there, pale and coming right from being rushed out of her classroom. Dad had the task of rounding up the rest of the family: Lizzy, Elo, Ez, and Ev.

All so they could be witness to the greatest spectacle of their life: his birth.

(Ezra might tell it differently but his feet smell like crisps, so no one should listen.)

An addition to an already crowded space but Easton never had a problem with squeezing his way into anything. There’s no need to “fit in” when all the eyes are on you anyway.

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“Lizzzz,” he slurred while reaching up to swipe at the hand fussing through his hair. That did not seem to deter his older sister whose hands only continued to try and push the blonde curls off of his forehead.

”It’s not even brushed. We leave in 2 minutes, Easton.”

East shoved away with a curled lip and patted his hair back into the place he wanted it to be in. Lizzy hadn’t yet come to the realization that she wasn’t their mum whereas he had and was firmly not going to listen to her.

“I’m ready!” He wasn’t. No shoes and an undershirt sticking out the back, he looked like he had been yanked around by the wind. (Wind called Evangeline.) He had begged mum to let him get dressed himself and after sitting around for far too long, he’d done that. This was ready enough.

He stuck his feet into the first pairs of shoes he saw and beelined toward the door—laces flying and the heel slapping into the part clearly not in the shoe. 

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Crap. He was gonna be in so much trouble.

Pretty reds, bright yellows and deep purples lay splattered across the floor, his jeans, and the entire left side of his face. Easton darted into the kitchen and grabbed as many towels as he could hold and tossed it right over the pile of wet paint; canisters and brushes were also tipped over and haphazardly covered.

What had started off as a brilliant reenactment of the 1962 Quidditch World Cup with a broom from the cupboard ended in disaster when a hard turn had the bushy end smack right into Elo’s paints.

He was gonna clean it up, he was. However, much like every waking minute in this house, he wasn’t alone.
The door opened and in stepped in the last person he wanted to see.

A great deal of silence followed as he stood in the center of the room while drips began spreading past the clump of towel. Elo was just staring too, until she wasn’t. He couldn’t do anything to stop his sister as she bolted forward and peeled back the towels to truly see the extent of the mess.

Was Wheezy’s face always that red?

”YOU PEST!”

He took a giant step backwards as Eloise whirled around toward him with – he swears – literal steam rolling out of her ears. “It was—,” An accident. He couldn’t get a word in, not with the yelling and the moving around. Frustration boiled, curling his hands into fists.

First it was his shoulders jumping up and down. Then, the corner of his eyes filling up with water. He couldn’t even see his sister with the quick way the world blurred. But he could hear, and the quick footsteps down the hall could only be one person.

Instinctually, East crept closer to the door as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Mam!” She’d back him up, always.

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His brother was packing up around their room to go out with friends and Easton had every intention of going with him. East had just shoved his plastic truck into a bag (because he’d let Ez’s friends play with it too) when, in his periphery, he noticed Ezra stalking out of the room.

“Hey, wait for me.” He hurriedly got up and tripped after his brother.

”You’re not comin’, East.”

That was all that was said before the door was shut in his face before he could get through.

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He stood underneath the tree with his neck craned all the way back. “I can get tha’ no problem.”

Wedged right between two branches was their ball. Ev and East weren’t far, only a couple meters from the house in the backyard, but yelling for dad hadn’t even crossed his mind when he stuck a foot on the trunk and started pulling himself up.

His days with Ev went like this: she came up with what they did and East went along with it. It worked. Besides, he liked doing what his sister came up with because, unlike the rest of his siblings, Evangeline wasn’t boring.

So when the ball got knocked right into the tree Easton did not hesitate to climb after it because that meant getting back to playing.

He got far too. Easton was one branch below where he needed to be when he stretched out on his tippy toes and curled his hand around the bark above his head. With his focus completely on the ball, he didn’t hear the crack.

Felt it, though.

Easton couldn’t even get the scream out of his throat; his feet lost their placement and he plummeted. Down, down, down until— snap. (That wasn’t the tree.)

He didn’t remember much after that. Yelling, probably, and crying, but he wouldn’t admit to that one. The next thing he knew he was being scooped up by his dad and deposited in a bed in the hospital. East broke his arm, he heard his dad explain to someone; Lizzy probably, or Ezra, who was off doing something Easton couldn’t remember.

Didn’t matter. First thing he did was look over at Evey and ask: “Did I get it?”

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He’d been volunteering to get the mail for a week now. Every day was one day closer to being the day and now it was.

One of his siblings must have been in the middle of telling a story because when he bursted through the door all the chatter stopped and every eye (it was Sunday, so for once everyone was back home) turned to look at him. “MUM! DAD!” His smile was impossibly wide as he thrusted the single piece of parchment into their faces.

His Hogwarts letter. He dreamed of it, had heard stories about the school quite literally his entire life. But this time it was his turn, and he would be the one bringing home the stories about Quidditch and magic and friends.

His turn.

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

House Request: Gryffindor

Personality:
A social butterfly that loves attention and doing whatever to get it. He’s the baby of the family which means Easton is accustomed to (1) being doted on and (2) never being alone. He has a very go-with-the-flow attitude because, the way he sees it, he can have a good time doing just about anything. Being dragged into dicey situations is not uncommon because he's got a bit of a invincible complex. (Quidditch is his dream.) With family he’s a bit more rambunctious because in order to have room there you’ve got to make it yourself. At Hogwarts he just wants to make friends and have fun; making his own mark separate from all the other Warwick’s will just come naturally.

Appearance:
Easton has median-length curly blonde hair that sort of flops over his head. Doesn’t have to do much with it, he just lets it go wherever it falls. Only way he ever even remembers to get it cut is his mom does it for him. He’s average height for his age and on the scrawnier side. He loves to be outside in the sun, so his skin is either tan or burned (or both). Freckles have appeared.

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
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 2:

That rat of his was in for it now.

The gray little rascal had disappeared from his clutches at breakfast. Again.

Before Hugh even knew what was happening, Merlin had shot across the floor, somehow managing to avoid all the feet walking across the hall and had escaped through the open doors.

Which meant that Hugh was now stomping through rows of flowers and other various flora, searching for the small creature. It was like the rat knew Hugh was allergic to most flowers. Merlin always chose to run to the gardens whenever he got away from Hugh. It was as if the rat did not want to have him for an owner.

Hugh had named his pet Merlin because he had hoped the powerful name would give the rat more incentive to be more than a rat. Not that he expected Merlin to change into a wizard or anything, but rats were just so...useless, for the most part. With a name like Merlin, Hugh thought it might give the rat purpose.

The only purpose Merlin seemed to have was getting away from Hugh as often as possible.

As the fifth year trudged into the second row of flowers, not taking much care to avoid trampling the first row, he felt the first sneeze building up pressure in his nose and behind his eyes.

"You blasted rat! Where are you?"

He pulled apart a section of bright red flowers; he didn't know what they were called because he despised flowers, and ducked his head low to peer into the depths of the flowerbed. It was moving closer in proximity to the flowers that finally did it. Hugh took in three great breaths and then let out an almighty sneeze. It was strong enough to disturb some of the dirt on the ground before him.

Groaning, he stood up again and wiped his nose on his sleeve. It was as he was turning his head, his nose running up and down his arm, that movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Normally one who preferred to put his best face forward, Hugh was a bit embarrassed to be caught wiping his runny nose on his robes.

Nevertheless, Hugh put on his best haughty voice. albeit a bit thickly with his plugged nose and said, "Can I help you with something? It is not polite to stare."

Roleplay Response:

The best light always came through the garden. It’s where the benches are too, and that is where Easton Warwick found himself. Sprawled out on his back with his hands locked behind his head, East planned on enjoying the free period in the sun before he was dragged along to class by his sister.

That was the plan, at least.

"You blasted rat!”

One eye flipped open as the voice and general rummaging got louder and louder.

He didn’t say anything – yet. With a grunt, Easton sat up and turned around to hang his arms over the back of the bench. A boy, much older than him, was digging through the flowers, kicking dirt and stems all over the place.

He swore he could feel the sneeze nearly hit him.

But finally, he was noticed. The disgruntled look on the older boy’s face didn’t leave as big of an impact with snot still smeared over his arm.

Finding a rat wasn’t in his plans but it sounded loads better than listening to a lecture. Without a word, Easton flipped around and tumble off of the bench to come closer. Whatever annoyance lay hidden in the older boy’s voice was steamrolled over by East’s lack of care. 

With a grin, he offered his hand. “D’you need help, mate? Don’ think the rat’s there.”

Belatedly he remembered the snot and tried to pull his arm back before the upper year could follow through and shake it.

→ ABOUT YOU.

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

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