Application for Hogwarts School
→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.Name: Vega Violet Nettlebed
Birthday: 10:43AM on 23 March 1939 (age in 1953-54: 14/15)
Hometown: Bristol
Bloodline: Muggleborn / Halfblood /
Pureblood / Unknown
Magical Strength (pick one):Divination / Transfiguration /
Charms / Conjuring & Summoning
Magical Weakness (pick one):Divination /
Transfiguration / Charms / Conjuring & Summoning
Year (pick two): 4th (preferred), 3rd
Biography: exactly one year after this.
00:01am. monday 23 march 1953.
Fourteen was quite a few teens. Four, to be precise.
This time last year, she'd been embarking on her great escape, taking care to avoid the creaky floorboard that lay two inches from her bedroom doorway, taking care to avoid the creaky stair that was sixth up from the bottom, and taking care to avoid any other potentially creaky aspects of the farmhouse as she'd stolen silently through the darkened rooms and slunk out of the back door.
Today, there was no embarking, no stealing, and no slinking.
There was simply Vega Violet, curled up in a pile of blankets on her bed in her dorm, and thinking -- as she so often did late at night when everybody else was asleep -- about her father.
Blue eyes blinked in the blackness.
Her journey to London last year, she realised, had been over before it had even begun.
06:57am. monday 23 march 1953.
She couldn't remember the house number. Was it 75 Grimstone Street or 57? Maybe it wasn't even Grimstone Street at all. Maybe it wasn't even
London.
No, no, she was panicking. It
had to be London, and it
had to be Grimstone Street, and it
absolutely had to be house number 57, because she recognised the blue door.
Only...the door wasn't blue anymore. It was bright orange with awful yellow and pink flowers, and there was a door knocker that was laughing at her with her father's eyes and a twisted, mocking version of his smile.
Vega's hand faltered.
"Dad?"
The doorknocker that was also Atlas Nettlebed only laughed harder.
--------------------
Something warm and soft hit her in the face.
Vega's eyes flew open. For a moment, she thought it was her dad staring down at her. But after she blinked and realised where she was -- back in her dormitory at Hogwarts, with no blue-turned-orange doors or laughing doorknockers to be found -- she realised that it was only the most enthusiastic of her dorm mates.
"Wake up, wake up! We made you cake for breakfast, but we've only got half an hour before Divination starts! You don't want detention on your birthday, do you?!"No, Vega didn't want that. With a weak smile, she sat up.
10:42am. monday 23 march 1953.
She had been slumped in a chair in the corner of the library for an hour and a half now. Her fish journal lay open in front of her, and the fishbowl itself was balanced precariously on top of a pile of Herbology books about Leaping Toadstools that she planned to read later.
Vega honestly didn't know why she was bothering trying to fill in three weeks' worth of entries now. Professor Galanis was going to see right through her poor attempt at faking some effort, and the worst part was that she wouldn't even be angry about it. She'd be disappointed instead, and that was so much worse. Vega could handle screaming professors. It was the sad, disheartened ones that she struggled with.
With a sigh, Vega pushed herself up out of her seat. Her legs felt slightly numb from having sat in the same position for too long, and they twinged with a dull ache as she stood. But a minor case of pins and needles wasn't going to stop her. Gathering up her stationery, books, and journal, Vega shoved them quickly into her bag.
The truth was, she was all out of time.
Vega picked up her fishbowl and headed towards the exit.
10:43am. monday 23 march 1953.
The library door opened at precisely seventeen seconds past ten forty three in the morning.
Vega Violet Nettlebed walked through it, tripped over her untied shoelace, and promptly fell down half a flight of stairs.
It still hurt less than the realisation that her father didn't want her anymore.
→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.House Request: Gryffindor, please!
Personality: [
x]
potions, all of them; cats, all of them. too many herbology textbooks, all littered with purple post-it notes; too many cousins, not littered with purple post-it notes. succulents; bath salts. the smell of brown mud and green grass; the smell of flynn flanagan morrissey. maps; globes. hiding nashira nettlebed's gobstones; hiding her feelings about her father. candy floss; candy clouds. adventure; exploration. riding horses; riding bikes. vegan; violet.
Appearance:blue eyes. golden-brown hair. freckles, lots of them. kind of lanky. keeps her nails short and her hair long.
Face Claim: Abby Bush. → 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 I:The dungeons. A place eleven-year-old Evangeline had not yet travelled since her arrival at Hogwarts.
A place she really was just fine with not knowing; but it was too late. The dare had been accepted, even if it had been done in fear of being kicked out of Gryffindor, like the older girls had said she would because Gryffindors were supposed to be brave.
The air changed instantly when she hit the main corridor of the dungeons. The dampness was almost too much for her and she instinctively took a deep breath to avoid the sensation of being suffocated. There was also a sour burning smell which Evangeline assumed was from many, many Potions lessons.
Further and further she walked, her steps so slow and gentle they made no noise against the stone walls and floor. The feeling that she wasn't alone crept up her spine and raised the tiny hair on the back of her neck. Shivering, Evangeline wrapped her arms around herself. Suddenly, she missed the warmth and comfort of the Gryffindor common room. The fire was always going and it made her feel at ease.
Why had she let those girls talk her into this? She was only eleven, she didn't have to be brave. Surely the Headmistress would not kick her out of Hogwarts for not being brave.
If only she had these thoughts while being dared to search for the ghost of one Emma Birch, whom supposedly haunted the dungeons. It was not, Evangeline had learned, the place where the sixteen-year-old girl's life had ended but as she had been from the house with a snake as its mascot, it was the place her spirit had returned to. That common room was down here somewhere, she'd been told.
Something - the small blonde girl wasn't quite sure what - but something made her stop in her tracks suddenly. There was a low, dull thumping noise. Or maybe that was her heart beating so loudly she thought it was coming from outside her body.
"H-h-hello?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Remembering that she was supposed to be brave, Evangeline tried again.
"Hello! Is Emma Birch here?"
The sound of her own words bouncing back at her off the walls made her jump.
Vega was cleaning out the Potions store.
Nobody had asked her to, mind you, but she'd taken it upon herself to do it, because
somebody had to and the longer people left it all messy like this, the worse it was going to get. Maybe it didn't bother the other students to walk past and see the labelled bottles all out of order, or the pickled Flobberworms right next to the Gillyweed instead of with the rest of the animal-heavy ingredients. But it bothered Vega, and she was going to fix it.
She was moving a large jar of Doxy eggs when she finally heard Evangeline's voice echoing through the dingy corridors.
"Hello! Is Emma Birch here?""No," Vega stuck her head out of the cupboard, Doxy eggs still caught up in one arm, and waved her free hand at the younger girl, as if to prove that she wasn't a disembodied voice floating around the dungeons all by itself. "Well,
I've never seen her down here." She disappeared back into the cupboard. There was a
thump as she set the glass jar down onto what she deemed an appropriate shelf. A moment later, her head popped back out again. "She sacrificed herself for her friend, you know. Professor Ivanova's daughter. Or, at least, that's what I've heard."
Blue eyes studied the Gryffindor intently. Then, after a beat, "Do you want to come and help me move this case of frog brains?"
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