Welcome to Hogwarts School :: A Harry Potter RPG! It's 1971!


This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.

Messages - Lupin Sol

Pages: [1]
Archived Applications / Lupin Sol
« on: 14/12/2018 at 18:22 »
Before you begin, please make sure you have created
an account in your character's full name, and make sure you have read and understand the following:

Site Rules | Magical Rules | Our Rating | FAQ

Should you have any questions, please contact an Administrator.

Application for Hogwarts School


Name: Lupin Sol

Birthday: April 21st, 1940

Hometown: Carson, California

Bloodline:  Pureblood(ish?)

Magical Strength (pick one): Charms

Magical Weakness (pick one): Transfiguration

Year (pick two): Fifth, Fourth

Biography: [Elsewhere App

It only made sense, given some time.


"Yeah, I'm ready."

His wand, twelve inches of curved, unyielding Alder, spun from finger to fingertip against his palm; a habit he had developed since he'd gotten it, born from not being allowed to use it for its primary purpose.

It was the law, he had been told repeatedly. Now, he asked it only to get a rise out of the man whose answers came in muted stares and enough of a pause to know it was acknowledged and left to die. A comical notion, all things considered, but the trace wasn't a simple thing to expel from a wand. If Lupin used it, or tried to, then it would bring unwanted attention to the entire foundation of... whatever this was. It'd be reported, Lupin would have to be represented, and such a trial would open a query into a host of matters better left untouched for someone of Joshua Mulligan's stature in the bureaucracy of the Ministry of Magic.

He was left stomaching the frustration until it coalesced into hard iron between his ribs. Rather than let it deter him or have him lash out in a tired tantrum, Lupin approached these informal lessons with added determination. While it was not a tangible thought he was aware to, the boy's actions spoke to being able to control what he could control.

Today, it was stances and form. An hour of repetitive movements, absent incantations, that he had --by this point-- drilled close to nauseating perfection.


The weight of the declaration, though not unexpected, pressed tightly against his neck like a heavy anvil.

Lupin held no reservations about the future. He was Joshua's responsibility; all of the soul-crippling pressure of having to manage without a safety net had been exorcised when the man had agreed to take him in. It had surprised him at the ease in which it had happened; the months changing through the seasons with much left unspoken. Yet, there hung a thick fog of understanding that existed between the would-be parent and his estranged son, where each knew their roles in making this work without addressing the fourteen year-old proverbial elephant that stood between them.

It was why his education was of paramount importance. If he had any chance of thriving in this magical world, he would need to attend Hogwarts and make sure he saw it through to the end of his seventh year with enough distinction to counteract his admittance being so late in age.

There was always the temptation do try magic just to see how Joshua (who he refused to call father, just Pops when he was feeling passingly sardonic) would get out of it. His temperament always held him back. Lupin was seldom one to cause problems. That was even at a time and in an environment that would force even the gentlest of souls to act out for basic schoolyard survival. He had learned early on that fuss only begot more fuss. Every situation could always be approached with a soft smile and a firm nod, even if it would inevitably lead to a beating (whether he got the better end of it or not).

"Gonna miss me, Pops?" He said with an open-mouthed smirk, teeth flashing haughtily. It was met with a matching grin before Joshua turned around, chuckling.

His wand was in his hand in quick succession, a swirl of fast-moving fingers that reached into the black leather holster tied to his belt that had its tip aimed at the man's back before a step had been taken away from him. One eye was closed to better his aim, a tilt of his head leveling his gaze. He mouthed the word, the sensation, and he could feel the warmth bubbling inside of him hoping to erupt. It didn't. He lowered his arm, knowing that no cheering incantation or hateful hex would be evoked unless he wanted it to.

He was in control.

His wand was already back in its holster when Joshua turned his head back, chin lifted to remove any doubt that he was choking in spite of the jovial nature of his tone.

"We are going to need to do something about that hair."


The most vivid memory of my mom was her sitting on my bed reading me a book. The story she read aloud to me, whether magical or muggle, never sunk in as deep in my memory as much as the act of it did. And sure, while I remember the stories, I'd be lying if I said I remembered what she read when.

I think that's why I started writing in this journal, one of the things she tended to do when I was working on my homework. If she could sit down beside me and write while I tried to work on my multiplication table, then I couldn't complain about having to be there doing it. So, with this latest notebook left mostly unwritten, I am going to have to fill it out with whatever is left in front of me until I fill it up.

It's my story, my way to write to her and, while I miss her a lot, it makes it feel like she's experiencing it with me.

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

House Request: Gryffindor or Hufflepuff

Personality: Pops asked me a question today that I didn't have an answer for.

Who am I?

He said it without much purpose, I think. It felt like he was throwing it out there not expecting me to answer. When I didn't, he nodded as if he predicted it. His smile burned something inside of me I couldn't find. It made me mad to think that I had become predictable.

I don't know a lot of words that might describe me best. Part of me wants to think of myself as a lion, or a proud griffin from the stories mom would read me. That I was gallant, strong, and unconquerable. But, I'd be lying. I get scared a lot. I get angry, or annoyed, even if I try hard not to show it. I think I could be a cool cat if I ever finished learning to play the saxophone, but I didn't.

It makes sense that he'd bring up the question over dinner. I already noticed the differences in how we conducted ourselves on the table. I'd finish eating before Joshua even properly starts and I'd spend most of the remainder of the dinner trying to avoid questions like that. It's easy to do when his mouth is full.

If I'm being honest, I'm not the fearless. I'm not fixed stone, as unbending as my wand. The word I'd use best, one that I had heard thrown around by Mr. Sol, was practical.

"Why does the current move in this direction?" he asked me once when we were out fishing. When I didn't have an answer, he laughed  and said, "Why not?" I didn't realize it then, but I felt that deeply. It struck me as clear as lightning on a dark night. If I want to explain it to someone who asked, what I'm like, I'd say I'm like that lazy river.

I'm just me.

Appearance: "We are going to need to do something about that hair."

The words echoed in his mind as he stared at the small mirror, surveying the damage done to how he had always seen himself.

Lupin ran his hand through what used to be his braided hair, searching for something to grasp when all that remained was the short, close-cropped hair to mark the subtle difference between being completely bald. His eyebrows seemed thicker, though they never had appeared that way before.

Without his hair, he'd now have to think of what people would look at first when they first saw him. Dark eyes scanned his face, from his wide, protruding nose he was beginning to hate to the symmetric ears that formed his face appropriately. Maybe his lips, thick as they were in the dark shade of his complexion. Or the fact that there was a slight shadow of facial hair peppering around them. Lupin hadn't gotten used to the diligence of shaving yet, having to do it now twice every week to keep his face appearing proper. He didn't necessarily look his age, growing into his body as he did. He joked often that he might come back here after this coming term at Hogwarts as tall as Joshua.

It wasn't very far from the truth.


Option I:

The dungeons. A place eleven-year-old Evangeline had not yet traveled 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.

"I don't think so..."

Lupin really didn't know anyone by that name, but he tried to turn the inflection of his voice away from telling the girl she was flat-out wrong. It fluttered, humming and building a bridge between them as he closed the distance from the corner he turned to face the girl. What he saw was not what he expected.

Sure, she had sounded young, but Lupin felt sympathetic to seeing a girl trying to make her way through the damp corridors of the dungeon. He was only there because he had to be; because he had accidentally mistook goat hoof for a mooncalves and wasted the potions professor's limited supply of the stuff by his own error and admission. It had landed him in detention, after-hours potioning which amounted to writing a forearm's length of parchment about the differences between the practically identical hoofs, followed by hand-cleaning the cauldrons until the professor seemed to get too bored with his grunting through the ordeal.

His hands felt like you would expect they would. Hard, sore, so that the simple movement of flexing his fingers open and closed would force him to grit his teeth and suck in his breath. His arms hung limp at his sides, trying to do his best to keep from moving. This girl, whoever she was, proved to be a much-appreciated distraction from what he had just gone through. It would at least pull some of the attention away from his aching fingers.

"Are you looking for a friend of yours? The Slytherin Common room is pretty far from here, you must have gotten lost. Would you like some help finding her?"

While he was inferring plenty, Lupin hoped that his intentions would come across correctly. He wore a coat jacket, black and heavily-buttoned, that did not distinguish his correct house. While he generally thought to judge a person without house stereotypes, he could equally understand how it would seem if this girl thought him to be in Slytherin. So, Lupin tried to flash her his most endearing smile and hoped she would trust him.


Please list any characters you have on the site (current and previous): Adrian Alric, Orion Alricsson, Andromeda Wagner

How did you find us?: Player Recommendation

Elsewhere Accepted / Lupin Sol | Elsewhere Child
« on: 07/08/2018 at 22:23 »
E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

Character Name: Lupin Sol

Gender: Male

Age: 14

Bloodline: Pureblood (Ish)

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?):  [Currently Undisclosed]

Residence: Lived in Newark, New Jersey

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)? No

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason? No

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Adrian Alric, Orion Alricsson, Andromeda Wagner

Biography: (100 words minimum.)

Age 11

"Hey pinhead!"

He had heard it for the hundredth time already this year. He scoffed, the strain on his face wrinkling his brow as he continued to walk down the sidewalk. His black backpack hung off one shoulder, visibly ripped where the drawstring would have come up to close it. Like he usually did when leaving school, he ignored whoever was following him this afternoon.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

It was a new voice this time, their mob mentality making the intent of what was going to come if he didn't hurry pretty obvious. He picked up his pace, eyes darting ahead to mark coming intersection. Three blocks. The small room he lived out of with his mother would have added another block, but Mr. Sol's shop was only three blocks away. He could make it.

He didn't make it.

Walking into the older man's shop, Lupin's gaze was downcast. It had been a few weeks coming, isolation in the eyes of the schoolyard making him appear vulnerable. His right eye was already swelling shut, blood flowing from an open gash on the opposite side of his face as well as his split lip. More than his face he could feel it in his ribs, in his gut, in his lungs struggling to find air and his bruised knuckles that had proven insufficient. The short chime above the door of the corner store alerted its elder clerk that he had a customer. It would have been better than meeting his mother in this state.

"Young, mister Lupin," he heard the distinct voice of the man he had grown to admire. Lupin tried not to face him but his silky inflections begged eye contact. When he looked at the face of the elder man, graying furry eyebrows narrowing over his thin, brown eyes, he expected judgment. What he got instead was a smile.

"You are a very brave boy, mister Lupin. Not using magic," Lupin's own face twisted, eyes immediately scattering to make sure they were alone. Of course they were, but the habit was hard to shake. He nodded, finding the strength to fight the pull of his eyes and let them settle on his feet where he could feel its comfort. Yes, even surrounded by several kids his age he still felt like the outcast. It was a sad realization to realize that your closest friend was a man approaching sixty who most of the neighborhood hated for the basis of his heritage. That even though he served the United States in the war against his homeland, bigotry outweighed empathy.

It was probably that, more than anything, that connected them.

Age 13

He was crying.

It was one of the few times in his life. Certainly the first in a long time, because boys weren't suppose to cry. He remembered then, the last person he had seen cry in public and how schoolyard viciousness made sure to remind them all of what happened when you decided that was acceptable. But Lupin was alone in the hospital room, wearing his Sunday best and feeling the shock of large hole that had just been dug in his soul. An empty chasm that would never be able to heal. Maybe if he would have noticed the blood when she coughed earlier, if he would have persisted in asking about it when it continued, maybe the he wouldn't be here.

He wasn't a kid anymore.

British Customs

"And you were traveling alone, mister...?"

"Sol," he answered, taking his adopted name to heart as he answered. He had to be proud of it, thankful for it, or his life would not have been his own. He'd be another number in the system, in each of the spheres he lived in. The clerk looked him up and down, his own gaze not faltering. With a shrug, he stamped his passport and Lupin was on his way. Or, at least he thought so.

"Excuse me, might you come this way."

The woman, faded blonde hair mainly hided behind a pointy hat, wearing off-putting clothing of deep jade, smiled at him once they looked at each other. His face, deathly serious normally, did not soften even at the sincerity that oozed from it. Looking back at the clerk who hadn't acknowledged this interaction one bit, his attention back on his line, Lupin was about to ask until-

"No need to ask that muggle, child. He can't see me."

That was a way to steal back his attention. When he looked back, the woman was already walking away. Right into a wall. Instead of bouncing off the solid enclosing, she slipped right through with barely a shimmer showing. Eyes wide, Lupin froze where he stood. Then, a hand reached through and waved him to come in.

"Mister... Sol, is it?" He nodded upon taking his seat, dropping his luggage on the floor as he did. "You have a wand, correct?"

It was his mother's. The blackened timber, African blackwood, a just under a foot long and slightly curved. Lupin took it out of the inside of his coat where it was hidden underneath a secret pocket, holding it out for the woman who had yet to reveal her own name. But, the wonder of the magical community come to life, come to him, had shed his defensive nature for the moment. As she took it, his eyes looked around the room. There was a creature with a mean face that could have passed for a frog if it didn't have a row of shark-like teeth scratching the bowl it swam in. There were clippings of newspapers pinned to the small cubicle they sat in, the moving pictures capturing his attention until she spoke again.

"There, now it has the trace. We overheard you did not answer the clerk, but this isn't just a temporary stay, is it?" At this point, he figured the truth was the only route he could take. He nodded and her smile eased the breathlessness he was experiencing.

"Well, if you are to be attending school then we would have to contact your parent of guardian, I see it's a Mister Sol?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It'll be my father."

"And who is he?" came the obvious follow-up. Lupin sighed, shrugging and beginning to shake his head.

"I'm here to find him."

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:


It came out quizzically. Lupin had been on the outskirts of the park area, dribbling a ball between his legs to pass the time. The red thing, called a quaffle he'd been told, was meant to be thrown but without the right equipment to play the wizarding game he was better left kicking it around and attracting as little attention as possible.

That hadn't worked out so well.

"Sure," he said again, this time more assertively. He tried to offer a soft smile, one to let the stranger know that he wasn't someone she should pass over. Lupin picked up the ball from his feet, holding it between two hands.

He wasn't dressed for running. Even if the weather was agreeable, he had left with a jacket on expecting it to rain sooner or later. At the first sign of droplets, the boy was told to run back to his house. His jacket was wrapped around his waist, black jeans and an over-sized Army tee making up the rest of his outfit. The shirt reached halfway to his knees, which made why he had been left alone make more sense if he would have been aware to it.

"Here, catch!" With the ball pressed between his palms on either side, Lupin extended his elbows to throw her a chest pass.

How did you find us? | Recommendation |

Pages: [1]