Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

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→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Andrea Barker

Birthday: April 7, 1954

Hometown: Born in Brighton, England. Raised in Edinburgh, Scotland.

Bloodline: Halfblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Charms

Magical Weakness (pick one): Conjuring & Summoning

Year (pick two): First, Second

Biography:

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The lazy drumming of their old grandfather clock provided a calming track to Andrea’s own thoughts, a small reprise from the records her mother loved. Today was a Friday, she thought, absentmindedly stirring the cookie batter as Milo pattered around her feet, little meows demanding her attention. Her mother should be back from the bakery any second now.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The click of a doorknob and the smell of fresh bread did more than enough to announce her mother’s warm presence as she swept in, auburn hair wild and cheeks flushed.

“Andy!”

“Coming! Give me a moment!” Wiping her hands quickly on her pants, Andrea made her way towards the door of their little cottage, hands fumbling with the knot of her apron. Her mother shot her a small smile as she helped herself to the brown bags that weighed on her, leaning in for a quick kiss as she tried to juggle the bags of bread and vegetables.

“How was work today? Anyone else asked you out on a date?”

Andrea would be the first out of anyone to admit that her mother was a beauty. Leah Barker, despite being in her early 40s, still had the youthful charm and the mischievous spark in her brown eyes of her teenage years. Word spreads fast in their small town, so it was no surprise that everyone knows the pretty widow that ran the town’s only bakery, with admirers coming in and attempting to ask her out. Leah never seemed to even spare them a glance though, so it became an inside joke for the both of them after all the years.

Andrea never really understood her choice, but every time she brought up her father, her mother would just smile a forlorn smile and pat her head. She knew that there was more to what meets the eye, but given her refusal to talk about anything remotely related to her father, she stopped asking after the third time.

Who needs a father anyways? The two of them were doing perfectly fine.

(The ache in her heart goes ignored whenever she sees her classmates walk down the streets, bouncing energetically next to an older man that looked at them like they were his world.)

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Her mother let out a snort, navigating carefully around the armchairs and tables as she made her way to the kitchen. Books laid face down on the chairs, their spines creaking under the weight of gravity and their dirty yellow pages creasing into folds. Their curtains fluttered in response, the gentle spring wind breezing past them, bringing in the smell of newly mowed grass and budding flowers. The roaring fireplace bathed the scene in a warm glow, and at the same time, filled Andrea’s heart with the warmth of spring.

Tick. Tick.

“Andy!” Her mother’s frantic voice woke her up from her daydreaming. “Your cookies are burning!”

Tick. Tick.

At the same time, Milo leapt onto their windowsill, loud yowls filling the room.

Tick.

The anxious drumming of the grandfather clock continued ominously in the background, syncing itself with her beating heart.

BOOM.

Everything exploded at once.

A barn owl (why was there a goddamn owl in the middle of the day?) plummeted past the curtains amidst a whirlwind of brown and white feathers, screeching angrily at the orange tabby that threw itself at it, eyes glistening with the promise of new prey. The strong gust of wind that invited itself in with the beating wings turned the once quaint scene into one of frenzy, ripping curtains out of their places and rustling the pages of her books with a furious fervor. It whipped at Andrea’s hair, throwing her own auburn hair into a tangled mess, and leaving her ears thrumming with blood.

The owl finally caught sight of their target, circling the room once more before darting in front of her, dropping a letter into her hands. This letter was unlike any she had seen before, with its browning paper and a hot red seal seared into the opening. The bird vanished just as quickly as it had come, leaving the sole sound of the grandfather clock ticking in an eerily silent aftermath.

Her mother placed down Milo with a small sigh, scratching his ears to appease the failed predator. She made her way over, treading gently over the ripped curtains and creased paperbacks. Compared to Andrea, she looked rather unfazed with the entire, as if she had seen this before. However, the slight glaze in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by her. Andrea grabbed onto this fact and started piecing together this puzzle. There were crucial gaps here, causing the overall picture to lose its focus and sharpness, but they were emerging, taunting her and asking her to go deeper.

Carefully breaking open the seal, she pulled out the letter and absorbed the contents, forehead creasing and she continued downwards. It almost seemed like an elaborate prank, if not for her own mother's whisper.

"Hogwarts?"

"You know about this?"

A small shrug. "He was from there."

She didn't need to elaborate on who the He was. But this was the first time her mother brought up her father on her own accord, and Andrea bit her lip, wondering if she should continue prompting her mother.

Turns out, the decision was made for her when her mother passed her a rather unassuming box, before turning on her heels and marching towards the stairs.

"No getting around it, I suppose. If you have any questions, ask me tomorrow, okay? Too much excitement from today!" She smiled, eyes curving in a semi-convincing smile that could have almost fooled Andrea, if not for the shine in them and her fidgeting fingers.

Nodding, Andrea shooed her upstairs before wiping off what might be a decade of dust off the box. It still remained brown and plain, except for the emergence of a scrawl on the bottom right corner. To my dearest daughter.

Panic seized her chest. This was it. A decade of absence explained through an unknown box. It was almost poetic, how her own curiosity pushed her to open something that might as well contain the answers to her life.

She opened her very own Pandora's box.

Another letter. A red and gold scarf. Three stacks of tightly bundled photographs. Books and magazines.

A silver name tag, with the name Andrew Donnan, carved into it.

Despite the gaps, the puzzle slowly lost its blurriness and sharpened itself into one of a clearer focus, and yet the main subject was still empty.

Something else took over her chest, overriding the suppressed panic and anger. This feeling was one of hope and wonder, one that tickled her heart and brain, as if encouraging her to dive even deeper.

And so she did.


→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.

House Request: Surprise me :]

Personality:
Andrea is someone one might call idealistic. This makes her very goal-oriented, with clear set goals and the need to pursue more when those same goals are met, giving her a very one-track mindset. At the same time, this also makes her rather naive, and along with her lacklustre childhood, spent mostly alone with her mother, Andrea trusts too easily. She wears her heart on her sleeve, making it clear whenever she likes (or dislikes!) someone. Drama is something that Andrea is always equipped with, shining in her speech. For the world’s a stage, and we are merely the players. 

Appearance:
Her eyes are the same deep blue as her father, but every other part of her takes after her mother, with her auburn hair and a charming smile. When she smiles, her eyes turn into crescents and she has a dimple on her right cheek. 

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
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."

Response:

Andrea was not equipped to deal with this today.

It had been going fine before this. She had tucked a muffin that she nicked from the breakfast spread today into her robes (slightly icky, but one has to do what was needed) and perched her writing materials rather precariously in her other hand, and embarked on a mission to find the quietest spot in the garden for the day.

The schedule was slow today – no lessons till the late afternoon – and she was going to use the time to pen some letters to her Mama. Homesickness had seized her by the neck these few days: the magical world just didn’t have the same charm that her little town had, even if it was more overwhelming than expected. 

She had just managed to pen down the starting phrase before the loudest sneeze she had ever heard rang through the school grounds, startling the few birds resting in the tree above her. Her quill shook slightly in her hand as Andrea jerked in surprise, eyes instantly drawn towards the culprit.

An older boy, someone whom she did not recognise, rubbing his head furiously on the sleeves on his robes. Wincing slightly in disgust, she shook her head slightly before attempting to pack up her things and move to a quieter spot. Where loud boys and crumpled flowers did not exist.

What she was not expecting was for the boy to notice her. And then demanding her to explain herself.

“Look, do you need a handkerchief? You seem to have a slight problem with,” Andrea gestured vaguely towards her own face. “That.”

→ ABOUT YOU.

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