Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Dashiell E. Vallen 
Gender: Male
Age: 32

Education: 
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – Class of 1925 – Ravenclaw House

Residence:
Dover, Kent, England

Occupation
Historian
Journalist

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the Ministry, Shrieking Shack) or to take over an existing shop in need of new management?
The Daily Prophet

Requested Magic Levels:
Adult characters have 32 starting levels to distribute across these four categories (less levels can be used if you so desire, but no more than 32). The number of levels on the lowest ability must be at least half of the highest ability.

If you want levels above the usual 32 total, or a significantly uneven distribution of starting levels, please fill out and submit the Special Request form here.

• Charms: 9
• Divination: 7
• Transfiguration: 8
• Summoning: 8

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
Halfblood on the Census

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Past: Matilda Gaskell, Marlen Gaskell, Michon Dubois, Lady Persey de Wimsey, Poppy Tietjens
Current: Dashiell Vallen, Arminia Meadowes, Beatrix Lancaster

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Dashiell E. Vallen was born at exactly 3 a.m.

His mother, Grace Vallen, would never know her son, for she died giving birth to him, though this was only the first gift Grace's life would bring the boy in his lifetime. His father, James Mamet, would never be aware of his son, for he met seventeen-year-old Grace Vallen at a dance hall on December 31st while he'd been visiting Llantrisant on New Year's leave from New York City, and had checked out of his hotel room the next morning having no idea when the woman with the fair hair and crystal eyes left his side.

It was, after all, probably best that James Mamet did not know of his son. He would have tried to do something foolish, such as bring him back to breed him in America. This would have led him to find out something someone like James Mamet would have found horrifying.

Grace Vallen had been a witch, and her son was to be a warlock.

Poor Grace never told of her affair with a man she'd known to be a muggle. When the time came to announce her growing belly, she told her family she'd fallen in love with a rich French warlock who had been married the whole while during their brief affair. Moira, who had the job of being the young wife of a low ranking Ministry official while Grace transferred to Beauxbatons for her final year of school, had no idea who her sister was friends with to ascertain the validity of this statement. Being the only two children of Samuel Vallen, a straight-laced healer, meant few questions ran in their habitual system. The man was changed; he had lost his wife of five years while she gave birth to Grace and never got over it.

It was, after all, probably best that Samuel Vallen attributed the baby's fair hair and crystal eyes to an overdose of valerian root in his wife's system. He did not know his wife, Elena Ellwood, had been unfaithful to him with David Coulby, the muggle son of the muggle butcher in town, who had died while trying to butcher a strong cow three weeks earlier.

So it came to be that Grace Vallen was to be a fair haired, crystal eyed halfblood raised as if she were a chestnut haired, hazel eyed pureblood named Vallen instead of Ellwood-Coulby, which would have been the combined blood names of her true parents.

And it further came to be that Dashiell Vallen was a fair haired, crystal eyed quarterblood raised as if he were a chestnut haired, hazel eyed halfblood named Vallen-unknown instead of Mamet-Ellwood-Coulby, which would have been the combined names of his true lineage, for James Mamet's parents were some of the last in the fashion of cousins marrying each other before it became incestuously glanced at.

Neither Grace nor Dashiell ever knew of their misinterpreted lineage. The Vallens were a family who asked few questions and accepted most truths, and Dashiell was not to be an exception.

Moira and her husband Tomson Ellard took on the responsibility of Dashiell. They named him and bathed him and clothed him. They had one child of their own, Eliza, who was a whole two years older and doted on "dear Dashy" until she became too old and too filled with angst to bother playing with dolls. Dashiell grew up to be somewhat intelligent within his family, who had always been a family of simple minded individuals. He read every book he could find vivaciously. He adored his aunt and uncle and cousin as if they were of his own flesh and blood. He just knew things about things and people without having to ask questions.

It came as a surprise to find that he was dyspelsic.

Upon entering Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Dashiell became an object of consternation among his teachers when every attempt he made at casting any sort of spell, charm, or incantation fizzled or backfired or stalled. For the first time in his life, Dashiell was truly distraught.

And distraught brings along many things.

Most importantly, questions.

He took solace in the few classes he excelled in, as they were the ones which rarely required him to produce a wand and cast a spell. It baffled him and his teachers. He could read other books and subjects with outstanding enthusiasm and ease. But when faced with a spell, the word mixed itself into "a blur of melting letters" as Dash first described it to his worried House Head.

It became harder for him to make friends as they began to realize his deficiency. And so Dashiell, who held so much love for those around him, grew fiercely shy and distant. The few friends he managed to keep he adored to the point of near obsession, but his quiet personality made this social error difficult for even his closest friends to see.

And Dashiell saw that he was different.

And Dashiell wanted answers.
 
Perhaps this longing for answers is what made Dashiell bury himself in history. He worked hard to memorize every theory, every story, and though his spell casting eventually got better, he never lost his passion for the History of Magic. He eventually turned his passions to use at the Daily Prophet and has been hard at work there since 1927. The war put a bit of a damper on things as he was drafted into the MOD, but Dashiell does what he can to skirt away from the danger.

Roleplay: 
You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character:

Option One -
Amelia Nixon was many things, but she was never a pushover reporter that people could just usher away with a busy shuffle past. She was dedicated and eager to cut to the very middle of the current political tensions because she was Amelia Nixon and her articles would most certainly become front page material.

“Sir, please! It’s for the Prophet, how do you feel-“

Another one brushed passed her, the shuffling busy masses making their way through Diagon Alley for the lunchtime rush. This had been the best possible time to get people, but none of them were giving her anything to go with.

Only momentarily discouraged, the short red headed lady took a seat on a nearby bench. Her quill resting in her left hand and her notepad ready in the opposite hand. Amelia pouted, tapping the quill against her leg as she scanned the waves of people for somebody - anybody - who looked like they had something to say.

She had been dreaming of her name in bold print, Amelia Nixon: The Source of Today’s Tomorrow. She had been dreaming of the larger office and the secretaries that would fetch her the morning coffee and fetch her anything she needed. The VIP interviews and the most exclusive press passes. But all Amelia had was a page seventeen piece on the rising number of frogs in London.

Hardened by a day of no success, the reporter stood up and started to trod off down the alley. A loose stone on the cobble path caught her heel, sending the distraught girl toppling down to the ground.

“Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!” she yelled as she tried desperately to recover her shoe frantically in the middle of the Diagon Alley moving crowds.

Roleplay Response:
Being out in the middle of a Diagon Alley rush was not something Dashiell enjoyed.
He meant to meet his cousin Eliza for lunch. Lately, she had been seeing one of her exes on a regular basis, and any meeting with Dashiell normally meant too much wine and tears on his shoulder. It made him feel needed. His Aunt Moira often encouraged him to visit Eliza when he could as they both lived in the city. But Dash, busy with his job at the Daily Prophet, found he was only able to manage meeting for lunch or dinner once a week. He could not deny it was a nice routine: Eliza cooked at her place and he met her there.
This particular afternoon kept Dashiell on his toes. He was on his way to Eliza's, sweeping past other walkers and trying to ignore the repetitive bumping and nudging, when he heard the noise. A woman, crying. It sent immediate panic off in his ears. Dash turned against the crowd and moved towards the girl.
To his utter surprise, it was Amelia Nixon.
"Amelia," he mumbled as he bent over, his lanky limbs coming in handy as he tried to help her up.
The heel of her shoe was broken and stuck. Dash couldn't believe the amount of people who would not stop, and treated their placement in the middle of the cobblestones as a nuisance.
"Let me help you."

OTHER
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→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Poppy Tietjens

Birthday: April 9th, 1926/7

Hometown: Canterbury, Kent, England

Bloodline:
Halfblood

Magical Strength (pick one):
Charms

Magical Weakness (pick one):
Divination

Year (pick two): First or Second

Biography:

Once upon a time, a little girl was born.

Her parents were two every day Londoners who enjoyed the finer things in life. Mr. Carl Luxom was a government official for something or another. His wife, Alina Luxom was a woman bred to host dinner parties and lead functions. They were the perfect Victorian couple.

Their little girl was Sarah Luxom, which was a perfectly respectable name for the daughter of a perfectly respectable family. Her older brother Adam was a perfectly respectable boy who liked to play football and shout flirtatious insults at the girls in his classes.

Sarah was unique from the start.

Mr. Carl Luxom had heard small whisperings of a community of people with questionable gifts and abilities, but had always brushed them off. Poppycock. Flabbergasting stuff. He never would have dreamed that his own daughter would prove to be one of these flabbergasting beings. So when strange things began to happen that always revolved around Sarah, she was taken to some specialists who assured her parents that nothing was wrong.

The summer of her eleventh year told a different story.

It was discovered that Alina’s parents had a cousin from somewhere who was one of these so called “magical folk”. The lineage was explored and decided on, and after some debate, Sarah was permitted to go to school. This had of course been a time when muggleborns were welcomed with open arms to the most prestigious schools. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would have to suit.

And so would Scott Tietjens.

He and Sarah were sorted into the same house and were made to gradually fall in love by their fifth year. From then on, the possibility of Poppy Adora Tietjens became a reality, as did the realities of her elder brothers Jack and Rowan, and her younger brother Ricky.

Poppy was born as the third child in a very happy, but very male family. It was no surprise that Sarah was smitten with her daughter instantly, and that Scott and Jack and Rowan were smitten with her as well. All was set to make a girl child both sweet and daring, just as many parts girl as she was boy in her spirit. She grew up under the guidance of Jack and Rowan. They taught her how to duel, how to chase pixies, and how to fly on a broomstick. They treated her gently, and took pleasure in laughing at her determination. It was Scott who first noticed his daughter was better at roughhousing than was at sitting for tea. The others noticed quickly.

Luckily for Poppy, Richard was born nearly eight years after she was. He provided the distraction needed for her to continue her double life while she should have been paying more attention in etiquette lessons.

Unluckily for Poppy, her family was sent to America two years later.

Poppy loved her home in Canterbury, loved her grandparents and her friends and her neighbours. It was all she had ever known. But Scott worked for some person from some Ministry who decided in some official way that it would be prudent for an American (who had been living in Britain for nearly twenty years) to work as some sort of Ambassador for the Ministry in America. Poppy had complained that one already existed. Her father had reminded her that America was a large country.

It was a year later, and she hated America.

Instead of Hogwarts, she was sent to Salem. Her brash manners and thick accent made her an immediate target for teasing. Very few dared to tease her once she was able to open her mouth and threaten them. And while her brother Rowan had seemed to enjoy the move to America and Salem, Poppy longed for her brother Jack, who had remained in England with her grandparents to finish out his final year of schooling at Hogwarts. Rowan still had two years to go. Ricky had no conception of what school actually was. And Poppy…
She counted every day she’d been away from England.

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

Society Request: No preference

Personality: Outspoken, honest, steadfast, quick, courageous, determined, joyful

Appearance: Teeny; dark-haired, heart-shaped face, almond eyes; slight, boyish, skinny

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
Please reply to the Sample Roleplay below.

She should have been reading, but her forehead was flat against the surface of the library table. It was too nice outside to be inside trying to do a project with a kid who didn’t care two straws about whether or not she was breathing beside him.

Poppy hated America.

She shouldn’t; the Tietjens had been there a year and a bit already, 476 days if you were Poppy and you were counting. She should be used to the progressive way of life, used to the bland accents, used to the loss of custom and manner. But I’m not, and I shan’t ever be. I hate it here. I hate it!

It was still a challenge. And Poppy Tietjens never backed away from a challenge.
Her head lifted from the table. Chunks of messy brown hair fell into her eyes, and though she swatted at them impatiently they remained where they were. The books piled in front of her and Simon were incredibly large, dusty, and unimportant. Still, she made to flip a page of the closest one to her.

"How about I write the essay and stuff? You can just put your name on it. Sound good?"

”And get in trouble when Professor Pickard finds out? Are you trying to make me dishonest on purpose, or are you just being stupid?”

Poppy’s glaring eyes echoed the harsh quip that left her small lips. Her imposing accent made the question sound much more threatening than it was. Foreign. No idiot would make her look like a ninny noodle, especially a boy. She frowned at him in determination and fought the urge to punch Simon square in the arm.

”You take the first half and I’ll take the second. Equal work. Got it?”
Her parents would be appalled at her behaviour.

→ ABOUT YOU.

Previous Characters (if applicable): Matilda Gaskell, Marlen Gaskell, Michon Dubois (retired), Lady Persey de Wimsey, Dashiell Vallen

How did you find us?: Somewhere!

Persey's application has been edited! Sorry about that

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Lady Persimmon “Persey” Helene Allonsa Lwellyn de Wimsy
Gender: Female
Age: 24

Education: 
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – Gryffindor, Class of ’67…or was it ’31?

Residence:
345 Mumford Place – Town
Ivordale Park – Family Manor

Applying to be: (select one, see here)
Columnist

Department of choice: (select one)
Domestic/Politics

Why did you request that particular department?
I would rather like to report for the everyday witch and wizard reading the DP and wanting an easy-to-understand report on the workings of the political climate.

Requested Magic Levels: (see here on how to do this)

• Charms: 10
• Transfiguration: 8
• Divination: 8
• Summoning: 6

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Marlen Gaskell, Matilda Gaskell, and Michon Dubois

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
“My history? You wish to know my life story? Well… If you asked for it, I might as well give it to you!

My full title is Lady Persimmon Helene Allonsa Lwellyn de Wimsy. Quite a mouthful, I am certainly aware. Most people call me by my preferred address, which is Lady Persey de Wimsy. It has a sweet ring to it, I think. At one point, my parents nearly called me Kittridge, and I would have gone by ‘Kitty’, which I can assure you whole heartedly I would not have taken to as well as ‘Persey’. Kittridge was the surname of my mother’s grandfather. He practically raised her. Persimmon is the name of a sweet little fruit. I’m well aware that the respectable thing to say would be that I would have rather been called after the noble relative, but I will candidly tell you that I much prefer the fruit. Besides! Kittridge was to belong to my younger brother the whole while. He goes by “Kitt” and not “Kitty”, though I do call him the latter whenever I’m feeling particularly mischievous. He loathes it.

My father is Lord Archibald Arkan Matthias Arthur de Wimsy, a name that is far more of a mouthful than mine to say, though he goes by Lord Exabier, as that is his formal title. He is a darling old gent and is precisely the sort of man you would believe him to be: Stout, rosy-cheeked, with a pipe in his mouth at every present moment, and an affinity for fine books and imagining himself and others rather ill. We’re not exactly certain where our title even came from. I should say I’m not certain. It comes from some sort of medieval tryst or something of the like, I’m sure.

My mother’s name was Coraline Lwellyn de Wimsy. It’s unfortunately a rather short name in comparison to the names of my other family members, but the interesting zing of the name “Coraline” quite makes up for it, I believe. She died when I was five years old. An explosion of some sort somewhere. My little brother Kitt (accurately, Lord Kittridge Karlyle Titus Peter Lwellyn de Wimsy) was three.

Quiet luckily for us, we had a marvelous governess, Mrs Cecilia Weston (neé Bridges) who was with us until we were both quite grown and she engaged to be married. I still meet her for tea regularly.

One could say that I caught a bit of a detective bug from a young age. I have a secret obsession with many of the muggle novelists (though you would be surprised how many of them actually have magical heritage), which is frowned upon now, with the blood purity obsession, and has always been frowned at by my Papa and my Aunt Eiluned (Lady Eiluned Ethel Miriam Morgana de Wimsy – never married, might I add, though she has no problem harping on me to find a husband) who are quite the purists themselves, only exaggerated by the recent political climate. In any case, I love detective stories. I find I happen to be rather good at their real life equivalents! Cecelia always told me that if I spent half the time I spent engrossed in the art of deduction on my studies, I could go up an entire ranking in school.

Speaking of school, I went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from 1960 to 1967 (or 1924 to 1931, as I am now being lead to believe). The hat was barely on my head for a moment before it shouted “GRYFFINDOR!” I personally suggested Ravenclaw would suit me, but the hat said otherwise, and I’m rather inclined to believe it, given the following pursuits of my studies versus my hobbies. I loved school. I made quite the impact, and was well in with the professors and the prefects.. I like to think it was my vivacious personality and winning charm that attracted them. Kitt assures me it had more to do with my ability for snooping around and finding out information from unsuspecting parties. I sometimes like to ignore my brother.

When I left school seven years ago – my goodness, I’ve just realized that I’ve been out of school for as long as I was in it! Sweet Merlin. I’m not sure how I feel about that! – I was swept into the society of the upper class. The de Wimsys are as pureblood as pureblood get. There was some scrutiny over the Lwellyn side, but Papa got that sorted with the Ministry. What was I saying? Oh yes. When I left Hogwarts, I simply had no idea what to do with my life. Going to parties and dinners and teas and committee meetings and the like was fun (to a point) but I felt exceptionally dull. So I did some travelling. I went to America, Germany, Spain, Paris. I learned everything I could, becoming quite proficient with languages. Papa suggested I try a Ministry job after three years of travelling and societal events. I worked as a personal assistant to a Mr. Humbug of the Department of something-or another for about a week, but was “let go” when it was discovered that I had no idea how to be anyone’s “personal assistant”. The man was a half-blood with no connections to anyone important whatsoever. How was I supposed to work under someone beneath me in every other societal position?

Another year of languishing about got me interested in reading the Daily Prophet. I figured I could at least work in some section of the gossip columns. At least I could provide some sort of clarity – the information given was disastrously untrue almost all the time! But then came the political upheaval. At some of the parties I attended with my father, I re-heard some of the language I’d grown up with in a new light.

And… I started to feel rather awful for how I’d treated Mr. Humbug.

With the new laws being as they are, I know what to say, when to say it, where to say it, and who to say it to. I’m not very good at hiding my true feelings, but I’m good at being snoopy. And that has come in useful.

Now I’m here, working for the DP, with my own little flat in Mumford Place and my own column to work on.

There isn’t much else important to mention. Oh! I was engaged once, but you wouldn’t want to hear of that.

Must be off! I’ve been asked to write a piece about different dishwashing spells, and I must speak with my maid about it.”

Roleplay:
Reply as your character to the following:
Jim hated Mondays.

He had always hated Mondays, really; that cursed beginning of the week, that day where it still should have been the weekend and yet there was work to be done - deadlines to be made - stupid lunch meetings to attend.  Even when ‘lunch meetings’ had been just plain lunch; ‘work’, homework, he had despised the start of classes and - all at once - the next five un-fun days before the weekend started up again.

Now, cloudy October morning, Jim hated Mondays more than ever.

His desk filled with the wide-open arms of the Sunday Prophet, he scribbled furiously over sections with a bright red ink.

All the new graduates with their impeccable NEWTs and superb teacher recommendations had come in last month, only too eager to start preaching the truth - their truth - to the whole of Wizarding Britain.

Jim’s train of thought was bitter, but he smiled wanly, for he had once been one of those recruits themselves.

Most of their dreams should have been been smashed in the first week, from the first time people like Jim had told them to fetch the group some coffee. Day after day, hour after hour, that was what they now said to their youngest colleagues, as their older counterparts had told him years before: At some point everyone has to fetch us our drinks.

Almost every year, the new recruits sat down and took it - and fetched the group some coffee - and maybe it was just the age or the nostalgia, but Jim was fairly certain that they deserved it all.

They did not deserve to publish half-coherent drafts with way too many adverbs and completely unmodulated opinions.

Jim threw down the quill in disgust, ink splattering onto his button-down shirt as though it were blood.

Smartly, he piled up bits of paper, and then, still angry, face marred by an unhappy Monday, deposited the pile in front of his door before reaching out to grab at the first person he saw.

“What happened to this paper?”

Roleplay Response:
”Good gracious, Mr. Moseley! You look quite done in for, and it’s only Monday!”

After two years of working for the Daily Prophet, Lady Persey de Wimsy was still getting used to actually having to work like the working class. She had been thinking of a less frequent position upon arrival at the Daily Prophet. Certainly, she had been the one to suggest to her father those years ago that working in a “smart place” like the DP would certainly be a respectable and fascinating thing to do.

“It will give me an outlet, Papa,” Persey had bargained over morning tea and crumpets. “I shall stop being such a nosy scoundrel of a girl.”

“Really?” Tiresome Aunt Eiluned had purred while dusting the left over crumbs of the crumpet she had just consumed off of her wool skirt. “I was under the impression that being a columnist at the Daily Prophet meant that they paid you to be a nosy scoundrel of a girl. You simply need to write of your exploits.”
This had been quite true. Out of surprise, Lady Persey raised two perfectly shaped eyebrows at the ink-splattered man who held her shoulder in a sweaty grasp. Ever since the confusion brought in by the new year, she’d found her work with the DP even more limited. The element of danger that came from asking for a simple interview had quite risen in her department. Of course, Politics were quite a different subject from Domestics. Ever since the unfortunate and eventful chase after Mr. Spencer Malthus’s personal assistant in a tea room down the way, Lady Persey had been given more columns about stain removal charms and home protection spells than any sort of political subject for her column. It was getting to be tiresome.

”Mondays are really quite dreadful, yes, but it’s no use taking it out on a perfectly clean shirt, if you don’t mind me saying so, Mr. Moseley. If you recall, by gracious instruction of the head of our department, in last week’s Friday edition, I wrote a compelling column on the various stain removal charms and the effectiveness of each one. I could fetch it for you if you’d like?”

Her smooth and peppy voice blended perfectly with her glossy curls and moonstone eyes. The pin-perfect fit of her orange-red outfit emphasized a slender waist and an excellent tailor. A neatly manicured ivory hand reached up to awkwardly try and push Jim Moseley’s hand from her shoulder.

“I’m afraid I’ve forgotten most of them myself by now, otherwise I’d be more than happy to do it for you. Then again, I’ve never been the best with spells of that nature. I just interviewed as many maids as I knew to get my information! But shhh… Don’t you tell a soul about that. Now why don’t we go along and get a nice cuppa and a biscuit? I’m sure it’ll make you feel quite refreshed, so early in the morning.”

After all, there was nothing a cup of tea and biscuit could not fix.

OTHER
How did you find us?
Other

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CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character name: Marlen Maxinus Gaskell

Previous and/or Current Character(s) if applicable: Matilda Gaskell, Michon Dubois

Character age: Thirty-Two

Character education:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Gryffindor) – Class of 1959
Auror – 1959 to 1964; 1967 to present
Hit Wizard – 1967 to present

Strength and weaknesses (details please):
Marlen is a werewolf, which in itself should say enough. While he has heightened senses and intuition, he must also combat excessive tiredness, mood swings, and headaches. His transformation cycle often interferes with any chance his body and mind have of feeling normal. This can block many of Marlen's human interactions and can rattle his ability to perform properly the few days following his transformation. However, there is none better than Marlen Gaskell in his area of expertise. He is particularly skilled in defensive spells and transformation (areas his condition has only heightened), and is considered to be a well-rounded warlock by his peers.  His ability to capture the most notorious dark wizards quickly and efficiently has kept him in favour with the Ministry, though they keep a rather close eye on him. This constant judgment angers him as he feels he is not trusted by those he fights to protect, and Marlen has been known to get rather testy when he feels he is being unfairly attacked by another person.

Physical description:
6'2'', chestnut brown hair, Gaskell brown eyes. Has distinctive scars from transformation on chest, legs, left forearm, and underneath chin. Normally wears dark clothing.

Personality (nice, rude, funny etc. Paragraph please.):
Depending on who he is interacting with, Marlen is an incredibly kind individual. He tends to compartmentalize his emotions into different categories. The most loving are restricted to his family members and closest friends. The least are the rotten higher-ups he finds himself dealing with frequently. In between lie the neutral; co-workers, strangers, distant relations, family acquaintances, and old school friends. He tries to act as cordially as possible with everyone as he was bred to believe that gentlemanly behavior is a necessity rather than a commodity. However, this often leads to awkward interactions, most especially because Marlen can usually deduce what another person is thinking just by looking at them. He can be shy. He is often closed off and introverted. But he tries his best to be completely fair to everyone, and prides himself at being helpfully honest when necessary.

Hopes and dreams. Why are you teaching at Hogwarts?:
Marlen wants to teach at Hogwarts for many reasons. Firstly, he wants to make sure students are fully prepared for what may come in times ahead in an unbiased (and free) way. Secondly, he's come to realize that with a little bit of knowledge, even the youngest witch or wizard can make a huge impact. He loved his Hogwarts days. Nothing made him happier than mastering new spells and learning more about something he feels privileged to be a part of. And even in his jaded heart, Marlen still believes that every growing wizard and witch should feel such love for school.

Biography (500 words minimum. There is never such a thing as too much.):

Marlen Maximus Gaskell was born underneath the sun.

The youngest child to Dame Mathilda Gaskell and her husband Sir Maxim Gaskell, he grew up with two elder brothers and a house-full of servants ready to catch and roll with his every whim and wish. Privilege suited the youngest Gaskell. Marlen found as he grew older that he could push limits without getting caught. Sliding down the banister became child's play for him at age five. He moved on to more daring ventures (such as hiding at the top of the family's fifteen-foot Christmas tree during a holiday rendition of hide-and-seek) which gave his parents aches and pains they never experience with Matthew or Marcus. Even his elder brothers found it hard to keep up with the small wild child. But he was lovable for his hyperactivity, and he secretly stole the spot of favourite in the heart of each family member.

Moving to Hogwarts only added to Marlen's growing personality. He followed brothers who were extremely well-liked and well-behaved. While he found it easy to be the former, it was the latter that gave him a difficult time. Marlen found himself in detention as much as he was on the dueling block. As a dueling champion in every year of his schooling at Hogwarts, he discovered the area he excelled in. Matthew always did well in Charms, Marcus found his footing in Potions, and Marlen proved his worth in defensive spells. By the end of his seventh year Marlen was a favourite in the hearts of his professors and classmates. While both Matthew and Marcus retreated to office jobs in the Ministry, a different branch reached out to offer Marlen a career.

By 1960 Marlen Gaskell was a young and promising Auror for the Ministry of Magical Defense. He proved exceptionally talented in transfiguring spells and methods of attack. What was most impressive, however, was his ability to read and interpret patterns of behavior in dark wizards. It made Marlen different from those around him attempting to understand why evil occurred in the wizarding world.

Perhaps, this was what made Marlen's fate all the worse.

On October 7th, 1964, Marlen Gaskell was captured by the notorious group Les Batons Noir in Southern France while on a raid with his unit of Aurors. They took him as ransom for some of their own who were prisoners in Azkaban and tortured him for days on end. The last act of torture was administered by Victoire Lefrenan, a werewolf aligned with the terrorist organization, who managed to bite Marlen before Aurors discovered the group's location.

Marlen died in that moment and became the man he is today: distant, focused, and subdued. At intervals he becomes his old self with those he is most comfortable with. The list is far too small. His family and best friend Dr. Gregorith Watson are his only real connections in the wizarding world. It took him three years to come back to his position at the Ministry only after a gut-wrenching interview with the Wizengamot. He was given back his job in an altered form – he would work as a Hit Wizard, going after the darkest criminals to bring them back under justice.

His new position has made him feel more valued, but with a cost.

Marlen wants his humanity back.

SAMPLE ROLEPLAY
(Please respond to to this in third person past tense. Do not write the other characters' reactions. Only your own.)

The water by the lakeshore rippled, dark under the overcast sky, and thick with moss growth. Ripples grew into small waves, spreading in concentric circles that sloshed against the rocks and sent a small family of mice living in a rotted out log above the waterline scurrying for cover.

And then the lake exploded.

A fountain erupted, splattering muddy water and assorted bits of lake bottom. Something very, very large thrashed and roiled, tentacles slapping wildly at the surface.

Elizabeth despised the squid, and more importantly, she disapproved of it. It was disorderly. Truth be told, she was the sort of woman who disapproved of a great many things, the disorderly ones most particularly. A tall, severe woman in her forties who never smiled, Elizabeth was so parsimonious with praise that it was said that if good will could be saved up she'd be sitting on a pile of it like dragon over a horde. The school's Headmistress was very good at disapproval.

Brown water flowed in a tent around her upraised wand, blocked by an invisible umbrella.

“He has a cold again!” Pythagorea Proud, the school’s much-harried Deputy Headmistress fussed, as she shook a spatter of mud off of her arm. She hadn’t been as quick with her wand work. “He won’t take his medicine. We’ve been trying all morning. Someone is going to have to deal with him!”

Arms folded, the tip of Elizabeth’s pointed black and very sensible shoe tapped against the rocky bank. She glanced over at their newest Professor, her expression thoughtful. “You’ll do,” she offered flatly, her tone leaving little room for argument. This was going to prove to be a very different sort of interview...

Roleplay Response:
There was chaos on the grounds of Hogwarts, but it was not any student causing the fuss.

"The Giant Squid?" Marlen muttered, squinting as flecks of mud bounced away from the invisible shield emitting from his wand. "The squid has a cold and gets the entire staff out before breakfast. How things have not changed."
He heard Pythagora yelling something about the medicine that the squid refused to take, and the next thing he knew Birch's cold eyes turned nonchalantly toward Marlen. There was something about the gaze of the older woman that made Marlen uneasy. He couldn't make sense of it. The stare of ominous villains did nothing to deter him, but Elizabeth Birch-Hurst straightened him up in a matter of seconds.

"You'll do."

It wasn't a question or an offer. It was an order.

"Of course," Marlen nodded, moving forward in the drenched grass though he had no clue what he would do. The flying sprays of muddy brown water became thicker with every step toward the lashing squid. Gigantic tentacles became evident in the lashes of water. Alright. One moody squid, apparently suffering a cold, with a bit of a…mucus problem. He hates his medicine. That much is obvious if he doesn't want to take it. Funny that they wouldn't figure out he would much rather take pills than liquid. Or a spell. Hmmm…

He would have to act quickly. Once he performed the next spell, the water would become his center for the minutes it took to settle itself. Marlen stretched his arm as far as he could toward the hideous body of the creature of the lake. I hate fish.

"Immobulus!"

The dirt water fell hard on top of his head and knocked his feet out from underneath him. Outside of Marlen, the fountains and sprays of brown liquid ended and dropped to the grounds surrounding the lake, rolling back through the grass covered bank. The Squid had stopped his movements. Rather horrifically, the massive tentacles of the grayish creature covered in ounces of slime stretched out from the top of the lake while its head began to sink back beneath the roaring waves of the once-quite lake. Those standing by stepped forward in concern as they realized the newest professor did not stand on the bank as he had been ten seconds before.

A silent moment passed filled only with sloshing water.

"Argh!" Marlen groaned as he broke the surface of the lake. He floated nearly thirty-feet away from where he'd been standing, having been swept into the lake by the waters returning to it.  Good thing I took a swimming course, he thought dryly. Treading water was no easy feat, especially when a gigantic creature sank to the depths of the lake only inches away. "Accio medicine!"
Marlen lifted his hand just in time to catch the whizzing bottle of Cold-be-Goneth. The crystal vial was nearly the size of his forearm, but weighed next to nothing. Light-weight. Easy to smash. Probably…dissolvable. He could feel the twitching of the tentacles as the freezing spell began to wear off. Poising his arm in a perfect arch, he chucked the medicine directly at the slimy skull of the squid. It landed and exploded with a satisfying puff of blue smoke.

"Feel better big guy. Try to take care of yourself next time."

---

I'll get those class plans out to you asap!

Thanks Esme!

THE BASICS
Name: Matilda "Matty" Mary Gaskell

Former Character's Name (if you had one): -

CHARACTER DETAILS
House Request:The diligent house of Hufflepuff would best suit Matty. She is a calm, quiet, rational young woman who is filled with nothing but love, admiration, and respect for those around her. Though her devotion is sometimes shrouded by her balanced outlook, Matty makes the most loyal friend, companion, and lover as she works exceptionally hard to keep up her relationships.

Year: Fifth or Sixth

Bloodline: Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Conjuring & Summoning

Magical Weakness (pick one): Divination

Biography: Matty stared at herself in the mirror of her bedroom. The sun peaked in from behind the white curtains at her window and created a clear glow along the floorboards. It illuminated her face. She saw the same eyes, same nose, same mouth she saw the first summer before her first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now, it was the summer before her fifth (sixth) year of schooling and Matty could not find the difference in her face.
She was born into a family that already loved her. Her parents, Mary and Matthew Gaskell, were ending the age of their youth when they welcomed their first daughter into the world. Their oldest son, Marvel Matthew, was one-and-a-half when Matty became a part of the Gaskell family. Matty's earliest memories of Marvel were bits and pieces of "Marvel the Magnificent": Marvel racing the family dog on his toy broom, Marvel making a handful of primroses sparkle pink, Marvel sliding down the banister of their Norfolk home, Marvel being bandaged after banging his head on the bottom stair, Marvel carrying Matty on his shoulders as he galloped along the shoreline of the beach near their home…
"Matty?"
A rap on the door and the sound of her name made Matty glance away from her face. She instead stared at the reflection of her elder brother peaking at her from behind her bedroom door. The sight of Marvel made Matty smile brightly. Marvel remained the heroic elder brother in Matty's eyes, though he had long since given up the self-proclaimed name of "Marvel the Magnificent". She loved him dearly and he loved her as any devoted older brother loved his favourite younger sister.
"Hmm?" Matty sighed through her smile. Marvel's eyes lit up with his usual animated anticipation as he went to speak.
"Mum says to make certain you've packed everything and hurry down for breakfast. We'll need to be off in three-quarters of an hour."
Matty nodded at her mother's request and Marvel disappeared with a quick grin at his sister. He was rightly excited to be heading off for summer training. Marvel was entering his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, and looked forward to accepting a position at St. Mungo's when his schooling was complete.
"Now, let's see Matty. Have we got everything?" Matty asked herself, ignoring the opportunity to consider herself in her looking glass again. She turned herself from the cushioned stool she sat on and smoothed out the skirt of her dress before she stood up. Her mahogany red trunk sat packed on top of her bed, and on top of her trunk lay Prior, her exceptionally affectionate Calico cat. Matty was certain that Prior had once been a puppy or a child in a previous life. His cuddly, obliging, and silly behavior earned Prior his name when Matty first saw him in the pet shop window during her school shopping trip before first year. Matthew Gaskell, with his tiny daughter's hand clamped in his own large hand, first saw the multicoloured cat in the basket of kittens on display at the Emporium in Diagon Alley.
"Look, my Matty," he said in his big, strong voice. "That cat looks curiously not like a cat. He's had a prior life, he has."
Matty had never been an expert in Divination (in fact, she loathed the class though she tried her hardest), yet she knew even then that her father had been right about Prior. He proved to be the most loving cat that ever lived. Matty could barely remember a time before she owned Prior. He wasn't exactly efficient for anything outside of cuddling and dancing around the common room sporadically, but Matty loved him none-the-less.
"Have we got everything Prior?" she asked the multicoloured cat. "Have we packed all that we need?"
Prior merely mewed in response and flopped his head further back on the surface of the trunk. The top left corner of the Hogwarts crest became visible from underneath Prior's body. Matty smiled, stretched, and blinked. She had checked her list nearly three times while packing her belongings in her trunk for the summer. Thanks to a small undetectable extension charm she learned at school, Matty neatly packed all of the books, clothes, blankets, trinkets, and tools she needed for the summer in her trusted trunk. The unlimited space made it easier to pack her items in the order of the list she wrote for herself on a bit of parchment.
"Matty, have you seen my purple jumper!?"
The sudden outburst in the relatively quiet room startled Matty; even Prior jumped from his slumber. Matty exhaled slowly as she stared at her younger sister Macy standing in the doorway. At eleven-and-a-half, Macy Margaret was the youngest Gaskell child. She was much younger than her two elder siblings, which sometimes made for a difficult divide between them, especially for her and Marvel, but Matty proved to be a gentle and understanding elder sister who cared for Macy as a second mother. This morning marked an exceptionally bitter mood for young Macy. She stood in her sister's doorway with her long blonde curls scraggled on either side of her head in pig tails and her normally impish pink face screwed up in a deep scowl. As Macy was only entering her first year at Hogwarts, Mary and Matthew were keeping Macy home for the duration of the summer training to spend more time with her.
Macy was not thrilled.
"I haven't seen it my love," Matty said with a knowing smile. "Why are you looking for your purple jumper?"
Macy's blazing brown eyes glared in the direction of her sister, much to Matty's amusement.
"Because I want to wear it when Mama and I go to see Granny this morning! It goes best with my pink skirt with the daisies on it," Macy huffed angrily. "I need to find it. Otherwise I shan't go to Granny's! My whole look shall be ruined!"
"Oh dear," Matty chuckled. "Have you checked the laundry? Perhaps Mama thought to clean it after you spilt strawberry jam on it at the Masons'."
Macy blinked, as if she hadn't thought of such a thing before, and stalked over to Matty's bed. Her small hand reached out to stroke Prior. He had fallen back asleep after ascertaining that Macy was only there to complain. A moment of silence passed between the sisters as Macy stroked Prior and Matty watched her younger sibling.
"Not that it matters," Macy finally sniffed. "You and Marvel are going away and I am to stay here alone." Two generous tears leaked out of Macy's eyes and Matty rushed to pull her handkerchief from the pocket of her dress.
"Oh love, don't cry," Matty hushed, dabbing at the streaks on her sister's ruddy cheeks. Macy's fits of angry despair came regularly before both of her siblings left for somewhere. The idea was that this block of summer time wouldn't upset the young girl as her own departure to Hogwarts came with the arrival of September, but this only seemed to make Macy feel worse. "It shall only be for a few weeks. And then Marvel and I shall return, and we three will all to go Hogwarts together and leave Mama and Papa and Granny here at home. Think on that idea, hmm? Please don't cry."
Macy's tears eventually subsided enough to agree to go downstairs for breakfast and ask if her missing purple jumper had been cleaned after the strawberry jam incident. Prior went with her for comfort. Once Matty was left alone in her room, she looked round her bedroom for any clues of an item she should have packed. Periwinkle walls, white linens, and ivory furnishings gave the room a bright, lively feel. A small window seat sat beneath the wide pane in the far corner of her room. She often sat there while she was home to read, write, or paint. Moving portraits and pictures of her family and friends were strewn around the room. They smiled and waved in their memories as Matty made her way back to her looking glass.
"I'm ready," she said with an affirming smile. "I'm ready now."

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
Please include these sections if they are not addressed in your biography.

Personality: Matty is a kind, gentle, "old soul". She likes to read, write, and paint, as well as bake, fly, and wander. While she needs and adores the moments she gets alone, she prefers being with others (which is one reason why she adores her overly affectionate cat, Prior) and likes nothing more than to explore and laugh with friends. Matty dislikes snakes, darkness, and ticking, along with spiders, flies, and fish. Matty is the sort of person who sees the good in any person and makes friends wherever she goes; however, she cannot tolerate rude, arrogant, or cruel behavior and often avoids people who behave in these manners. She fears very little in the world outside of losing her loved ones, but one outer fear she secretly has is a fear of still water. The fear is connected to a particularly terrifying nightmare she occasionally has. If she ever comes across a still body of water, she makes sure to throw a rock or stick onto its surface to make it move. It is the one bad omen Matty believes in. On a good day, Matty is chattier than normal, constantly smiling, and laughing at everything. On a bad day, she keeps to herself in order to avoid "infecting others with this dismal feeling." Matty loves sunlight.

Appearance:Matty is a natural beauty. She has a sweet, heart shaped face and lovely, deep set eyes that are a golden shade of brown. Her complexion is ivory, which she's inherited from the Irish side of her family, and she prefers not to wear anything more than a bit of mascara. She is slender – not too thin and not too pudgy – with a feminine frame. Her stature is an average one for a female of her age, if not slightly taller than many girls in her year. Her hair is ash blonde and cropped short after she had a particularly nasty incident in first year involving her long hair, Peeves, and a can of "Unstickable Sticky Glue". Since this unfortunate prank she prefers to keep her hair short. Though she hates to admit it, Matty keeps her hair charmed out of paranoia for protection against harmful substances and hexes. Nothing but water and select hair products and charms can penetrate her hair. Her look, paired with her sunny and quiet disposition, keeps her noticeably pretty and unnoticeably humble.
 SAMPLE ROLEPLAY
You come across one of these three posts on the site. Please reply to one only as your character would.
*** Remember, you can only roleplay your own character's actions, not James' or Astrid's.

Option I:

Blimey, the Great Hall was packed. It seemed like everywhere a guy looked there was some clown waving around a House banner or yelling about the game.

'Can you believe it?' 'No way!' 'This must be the biggest upset in Hogwarts Quidditch history...'

Stupid Quidditch.

James flopped into an empty seat at the end of the table, shoved an empty plate out of the way, and let his head sink onto his crossed arms, squishing his freckled nose down flat against the tabletop. He wasn't sure why he'd even bothered to come here, since he definitely wasn't hungry. He'd probably never eat again, in fact. He didn'tdeserve to eat. He hadn't stopped in the locker room to change out of his muddy, sweaty uniform after the game either, because he was pretty sure he probably didn't deserve to be clean too; and anyway he couldn't stand to see the looks on his team mates' faces after he blew their chance at winning one of the biggest games they had ever played.

Just one lousy shot. That's all it would have taken. If he could have just got that one stupid foul shot to go through that one stupid hoop, they could have won and he wouldn't have been the biggest blockhead in the entire school.

As if to prove the point, half the people at the next table suddenly broke into a loud victory chant. James pressed his face further into his arms to hide the bright red blotches he could feel creeping up his cheeks. That was it. He was just going to have to run away and move to Nova Scotia. He'd just cost the three-year-in-a-row Champions the Quidditch Cup! How do you ever live that one down for crying out loud? He was only a second year and he was going to spend the rest of his life as 'that dumb cry-baby kid who dropped the Quaffle!'

It felt like every set of eyes in the room was boring into him, and James couldn't stand it anymore. He jerked himself back up from the table and stomped right back out of the Hall the same way he had come in. As he stormed into the quieter hallway outside, he could hear footsteps somewhere behind him. James rounded on the sound and began to shout, his brown eyes shining with tears. "WHAT! Haven't you ever seen a loser before? Why don't you just take a picture!"

Sample Roleplay Response: The Quidditch Game had been quite a final match.
Matty Gaskell was never much for competition, but Quidditch was her one weakness. Marvel, her elder brother, used her as a practice player whenever he or any of his friends needed an extra player in their summer matches. She'd gotten to be decent in all of the years of being Marvel's playing dummy, though it was mainly due to her exceptional flying skills and diligent determination. Matty had never been good enough to even consider trying out for her house team. It didn't bother her, as she always found other things to do and, in truth, preferred to watch the school games rather than participate.
Today's final match ended in victory for her house. She and her closest friends huddled together in stands, cheering on fellow housemates and friends playing for their chance to win the glory of the Quidditch Cup. There hadn't been much of a shot going into the match. Matty's house was, after all, playing against the reigning three-year champion house. It had been a miracle that her house made it into the final game of the school year. Matty, at least, felt pleased enough with this idea. She painted her house colours on her face and charmed them into her hair. She wore the number of the player who she was closest with on her jumper and made certain she wrapped her house scarf around her neck before heading down to the pitch. She intended to carry as much pride on her person for when her team graciously lost with everything it had.
The game ended up tied. Matty stood pressed against the splintering wood of the barrier, staring up at the sky in anxious anticipation. She cheered when her team scored and cursed when the other team did. In the end, it all seemed so close…
And then, a young boy accidentally missed a foul shot.
Matty couldn't help but feel a surge of sympathy for boy and his team as she and her friends started screaming cheers and chants while her team flew victoriously down to the pitch. What it must feel like to come so close to the Cup and then lose! Matty knew from personal experience that third place was always better than second. Second always meant the first losers.
Now, it was an hour and some after the game. The "victory dinner" as her house was calling it. Matty sat squished between her friends. She laughed merrily as they shouted and chanted and hugged and kissed and celebrated something that had not happened in their house for nearly a decade. They had been celebrating at the table for nearly half-an-hour when she noticed him, the boy who missed, sitting alone at the next table. His head was tucked beneath his arms and he hadn't changed from his muddy Quidditch uniform yet. Suddenly, Matty stopped laughing. Her brown eyes remained glued to the boy's form. He was young, not more than a second year. One thing was certain: it had been his first year on the team. Matty resisted the urge to tell her whole table to be quiet in consideration for the poor boy.
Her protestation wouldn't have helped anyway. A loud chant was started by Rivlen, a particularly rowdy Scottish boy from fifth year, and then proceeded to make its way down the celebrating table. Matty kept her mouth shut. She watched helplessly as the boy ripped his head away from the table to glare hurtfully at her house before tearing down the path and exiting the Great Hall. He barely made it out the entrance when Matty shot up from her own seat. She ignored the questions of her friends and jogged to make it out of the hall in time to catch him.
He hadn't gone very far when she burst into the outer hall. Matty followed him quickly. She hadn't thought of what she would say to him. In fact, as she walked toward him she realized that her prideful attire would probably be the last thing the boy wanted to see. He nearly made it to the grand staircase when he suddenly spun around to face her.
"WHAT! Haven't you ever seen a loser before? Why don't you just take a picture!"
The outburst was understandable. Matty stopped, her painted face etched with compassionate empathy as she noticed the tears glistening in the boy's eyes.
"I'm so sorry," Matty said calmly. "It really isn't fair. You played so well, but now all anyone seems to remember is the one time things didn't go your way. No matter what you did, you don't deserve the weight of that."
She quickly reached into her pocket and pulled out her handkerchief. It was made of soft white cotton with delicate periwinkle swirls along its patterned edges. Her initials, "M.M.G", were embroidered into the corner. Matty got it as a present at ten-years-old from her Granny, Ambrosia Gaskell, who was an expert charmer and had charmed the gift with an impossibly cleanly charm. Matty still didn't know quite how the charm worked. But she knew that her handkerchief cleaned and remained clean no matter what mess it worked on, and that it always smelt of jasmine and lavender.
"Here," Matty sighed. She held the handkerchief out to the boy with a kind smile on her face. "It's alright."

Optional: I found this site using a web search on Google!