Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

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→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Anderson Amore Payne

Birthday: 23rd of May, 1957

Hometown: London, England

Bloodline: Half-ish

Magical Strength (pick one): Divination

Magical Weakness (pick one): Conjuring & Summoning

Year (pick two): Fifth; (Fourth, if necessary)

Biography:

"Ms. Payne," she said for what had to be the fourth time, each use of her name losing more and more patience.

"You do understand the importance of this interview, do you not?"

Her tired eyes flickered back in focus, leveling themselves at the woman sitting across the metal table. It didn't help that she could smell her breath from here; a rushed use of mouthwash and what could have been a different sort of alcohol altogether doing little to hide the stench of built-up plague likely coating her tongue. Her nose wrinkled distastefully, though little else showed her to be engaged or present.

Anderson Payne had already decided there was very little genuine about this woman. It didn’t take much perception to realize that. Her powdered face did little to hide the wrinkles of age. The cheap fabric of her knock-off designer clothes flaunted their true worth. Loose buttons attached by flimsy fingers. And, most importantly, the look in her eye that failed to hide behind the mask that was her choice of words revealing just how little she actually cared about her future well-being and, well, her overall. She was just another name in a long list of forgotten things.

Anders didn’t hold it against her. She wasn’t the sort to take things personally. That look was just one she'd learned to identify from an early age, one that came as reliably as the tides. A blossoming disdain that arose whenever her charming smile proved a precursor for something horrible that she'd done, like a blood-red morning being the herald for a stormy afternoon. She’d charge forward with her devilish charm and see how far it would take her before reality ultimately set in and put her back where she ultimately belonged.

It took a few breathless moments, but she finally did answer with a nod. Shifting her posture to drop the folded leg and her hand placement that had her twiddling her thumbs fell free so that she could sit straight and upright. The girl obviously knew why this was important and why she had to actually act like he cared. If any signs showed that she hadn't improved, that she'd regressed in her time here, then this woman had the power to extend her stay, a sentence that was chosen more often than not. These exit interviews might have been seen as a formality but that was only by those who registered the Juvenile Detention Center for the Underaged Status of Magical Youths (Judus May to those in the know) as just another name on a file of institutions the Ministry had created.

For those actually there, the ones who understand what building such a place within the shadow of an even more desolate one would do, most of these exit interviews ended in the interviewer being rushed out for their own safety, sanity, or crumbling faith in humanity.

'She must be new,' she thought again, this time with a certainty her last assertion had lacked. Anders resigned herself to stomaching the mockery if she wanted out. Three years wasn’t long when looking back at a lifetime, but it’d been a fifth of her life that she'd lost; a fifth she wouldn't be getting back. She thought of Hogwarts then, the warmth of their walls and the comfort of her dorm and free use of her wand. And the food. The constant feast that welcomed her every morning, that appeared magically every night. The stark contrast to the life she’d led before and since.

Most good-hearted people would have taken that time to reflect, to think of the choices that had led them to that point and realizing the changes they would have to make so that they didn’t end up back at rock-bottom. Anders only looked back at all that she had missed, all of the opportunities that had been taken from her by some overzealous geezer who’d accused her of stealing his prized heirloom and shed any guilt or remorse that would stick as easily as a snake would shed its skin.

Her smile stretched a bit further, and she nodded once more, pressing the woman to keep going.


The locks had changed.

When she'd been left out, there were only a handful of belongings that had been given back to her: a wallet keychain absent the money that had been in it, her still traceable wand, a keychain with three sets of keys, and a small notebook with numbers and addresses her mother had made her take the last time she'd seen her.

The address was supposedly the same but the locks had changed. Staring up at the reddening sky, Anders knew that it would be dark soon. She’d written to her mother about when she’d potentially be let out but hadn’t planned on some big reunion with the woman considering she hadn’t heard back, which was why she wasn’t surprised to be knocking on the door to an empty flat. After banging the end of her balled fist against the hardened wood, the fifteen year-old sucked in her breath and debated what to do next.

A few minutes later, she was breaking in through the back window and falling into the living room.

The apartment appeared less barren than  she’d imagined. While the walls weren’t decorated, much of the floor space was filled. A navy rug covered much of the wooden floorboards. A large, gray cushioned couch faced the covered fireplace, centering the room. Anders meandered past the furniture, ignoring the pair of framed pictures that sat over the fireplace.

Her stomach hadn’t stopped growling since she’d gotten off the Knight Bus. To solve this most urgent grievance, she made a bee-line to the kitchen and refrigerator. To her surprise, it was stocked far more than she would have ever given her mother credit for. And, without thinking it through, she reached for a handful of things and placed them on the counter beside it, between the large appliance and a sink half-full of dirty dishes.

White bread. Turkey breast. Ham. Mayonnaise and mustard. A tomato she sliced with the remnants of the two condiments still wet on the knife. Even after flattening it with her palm, watching some of the juices squeeze in all directions, the sandwich was still about half of her index finger in thickness and she took a savage bite out of the corner. At that moment, time seemed to stop. It wasn’t that the ingredients were exquisite or that the quality would have earned such a moan, but it was fresh and filling and everything she’d ever want.

Another savage bite came without her finishing to chew through the first. Then, she heard the door open and watched a family of strangers walk in, a locking of gaze which ended in her mouth dropping and small bits of chewed sandwich falling out.

”Who the bloody ‘ell are you?” The man asked, his tone caught somewhere between frenzied and fuming. Anders didn’t wait to answer the question. She was running out through the window with her sandwich without looking back.


“He called me a boy, but I was going through a short hair phase,” she elaborated, shaking her head. Anders hated reliving that moment. She’d had to explain herself a hundred odd times and each one always ended with the same look of distrust as if her words betrayed their truth in some innocuous way. Anders couldn’t tell if it was tone, or the way she paced the series of events, but in the end whoever listened fell to the same conclusion.

She was wrong and deserved all that she had sowed.

At this point, she even believed it herself.

“It’s all in there. Does it even matter what I say?” Her eyes gleamed for it to be over, considering she wasn’t even sure what she was doing here. Nothing she said would change the past. She felt done having to relive it.

”I suppose that’s fair,” the man answered. He sounded like he did care. It was impossible for her to find any signs that didn’t, which only worsened her mood. Anders crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, pushing back against her seat as she avoided eye contact. All it earned her was a chuckle.

”It’s understandable to be angry. Whether you deserved it or not, it’s a long time that you got sent away for. And for what? Stealing some rich blokes fancy–” the man paused to look through the papers in front of him, likely a file dedicated to her, before he shrugged. ”–whatever? He really threw the book at you. Considering he managed to catch you, you’d think it would have only earned you a slap on the wrist. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you were caught for… similar things.”

Even in that, the shift in tone, it sounded far more like he was sorry than that he was judging her for it. It earned him at least part of her attention, a fleeting glimpse to look over his features before evading them once he noticed.

”I’m not here to judge you, Miss Payne. I’m here to help you. And the most important thing you should know is that you’re not alone in this. I’ve dealt with a lot of kids your age that have gone through their own tough times. And, while this was forced on you by the court, it doesn’t mean you can’t find some value in it.”

That only earned him a laugh. Anderson Payne was most definitely alone. That’s the way she liked it. People might come and go, much like this court-ordered therapist, but the only person that would ever truly have your back was yourself and she would use whoever and whatever to make sure that she found herself on solid ground.

”You’ll be starting school back soon, right? How are you feeling about that? You know, I went to Hogwarts too. Was actually Head Boy, if you can believe it. Considering I only got to that school when I was your age, it surprised me almost as much as my old man. No matter where you came from before, Hogwarts can always give you a chance to start over. Change your circumstances. Well, I suppose that’s also for the Sorting Hat to decide.”

A timer went off across the room and she scoffed, picking up her bag.

“I already have a house,” she answered, as if to say that she was perfectly fine with who she was. It’s the world that needed to change, not her.

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

House Request: Not Ravenclaw

Personality: Authentically herself, Anderson Payne is surprisingly comfortable in her own skin. She carries a certain confidence in herself that is easy to notice, especially since she doesn’t give herself a chance to second guess herself. She can be rude and abrasive with her words and actions and finds comfort in the discomfort of others. She enjoys a good laugh at other people’s expense. She is quite stubborn and headstrong, especially when it comes to being judged for her station in life. She is quick with her tongue and quicker with her fingers, and is as likely to steal you blind as she is to make fun of you. Ultimately, she just doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her. At least, she believes that to be the case.

Appearance: Anders likes to believe she is rather plain looking. Her best feature is probably her teeth, as she has always taken great care of them her entire life. It was as if even as a child, she understood that there were only a few things she’d ever be in control of and her teeth were one of them. She tends to smile and laugh, though normally at socially inappropriate moments. She’s of average height and very lean, which is surprising considering how much she could eat if given the option to.


→ 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.

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Option 1 Response:

The dungeons were a playground, she’d come to learn.

After every corner, there was generally an empty room to find or another dank hallway to venture through. Almost endless corridors scattered through the underbelly of the castle. It was easy to get lost, especially if you were very good at it, and it was always an understandable excuse to be late or miss time when you just let someone know that you took the wrong turn down in the dungeons.

Anders walked with purpose that morning. Namely, away from somewhere. Her legs kicked up into a brisk jog, as she continued to meander through the place hoping to put as much distance from herself to where she’d come from. And, if you were lucky, you found someone unsuspecting along the way.

”Hello! Is Emma Birch here?”

First-years were fun to mess with. They had no world experience and many of them were taught to believe the words that came from a stranger, as if everyone was morally good and wanted the best for you. Anders was happy to burst that bubble as soon as possible. Usually it was in telling someone the wrong directions to the Hospital Wing, but this should work long enough to find some amusement in.

“Are you looking for Emma Birch?” She asked, completely unaware of who this person was.

“I’m pretty sure I saw her in the potions lab. It’s further down that way.” Her arm stretched behind her head to point back in the other direction. The path towards the very same potions’ lab she’d fled when her potion brew started to boil over her cauldron, having ventured inside when she knew the professor wasn’t there to prove to herself that she could have finished the earlier lesson if given more time.

Time hadn’t been the issue and whatever it was had now become someone else’s problem.

"If you smell flames, you're probably getting close. Got that, pipsqueak?"


→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have  on the site (current and previous): Adrian Alric and co.

How did you find us?: I blame Meg.