Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

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→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Darby Pearl Dobbins

Birthday: February 26 1955

Hometown: Windermere, Cumbria

Bloodline: Halfblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Charms

Magical Weakness (pick one): C/S

Year (pick two): Third / Fourth

Biography:
In the foothills of Cumbria there is a place known as The Rumbling Valley. Around this lowlands the hills are sharp and tall and help keep it hidden from muggles. The valley is so low that passing magic in the air gets trapped there. Many unique flora and fauna have developed in The Rumbling Valley over time, and purple stormclouds are frequent in the sky. Their thunder shakes the earth so deeply that the valley was named after it. This is where Darby Dobbins grew up.

Her family has maintained a farm here for generations and understands how to work the unique landscape. They cultivate different plants for sale to apothecaries and woods for wandmakers, having gained fame for the potent white nightshade that grows in the trellises of the gardens. And that’s not been without its complications.

She remembers an evening when a group of men stormed onto the farm right up to the house, and she remembers how her mother and oldest brother ushered all of the kids into a room, and she remembers feeling frightened by the sounds of raised voices downstairs - until she decided she didn’t like that feeling, and stopped. Darby was the only one of the family who tried to go back outside that night.

The third child of five and one of a dozen cousins, Darby thrived in her environment- just not in the ways she was expected to. The outlier, she tended to dawdle through her duties, even through lunchtime, even in the rain as she drank in the delight of the world around her.


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

House Request: Ravenclaw

Personality:
Darby is to her core a dreamer. Her thoughts are easily lost in the clouds on fanciful whims, especially when there's a book or professor in front of her, but even sometimes mid-conversation with friends. She loves to dance and to move and to feel. It's a free spirit of hers that prefers the detached realms of imagination and musing as opposed to worldly affairs. That being said, she does manage to be grounded by art and fashion, a good bridge between the tangible and imagination where her passions lie.

There’s a fearlessness in her that is unlike the bravest Gryffindor who sees a danger and tackles it head on. Darby, rather, seems to exist without fear. Not courageous, but unaware, or maybe is just unaffected by the harms that risk can bring. When things start to look difficult or uncomfortable, the girl has a penchant for immediately subverting them. It isn't something conscious, but rather an instinctual defense mechanism. With a blink, she’s forgotten all insults and injuries, smiling along.

She doesn't want for much from her peers, except for their regard. Popularity and flirting and naughtiness are those teenage things for which she yearns but which also tend to elude her, a foreign language she's dying to learn. Do they fit all the excitement in her head?

Appearance:
In the middle of the pack and she’s not much for standing out. Average height, twiggy like there’s not enough food to go around. Her golden blonde hair falls down her neck most often from the bind of a ponytail, though sometimes it flows or in curls or in pigtails. Wide greenish blueish eyes are the type to look through someone - not piercing into, but gliding past. Darby loves colors and she loves makeup so she can often be found experimenting with colorful makeup and then a lot of the time she doesn’t wear any at all, whim pending.

→ 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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Roleplay Response:
"Why..." Darby cooed, her eyes pulled wide as she peered out from the basement nook. Evangeline looked like a lost fawn in her first thunderstorm. And, as far as she could tell from a slow sweep of the drafty area, was all by herself. "I don't believe she is. I haven't seen her."

Darby laid back down, her legs stretching back up the wall, and proceeded to tap her shoes on the stones some more. The humming in her throat almost made it feel like a summer day full of sun and zipbees.

A light bulb went off. Not actually, but she made a small jump like one had. "You know what, though?

"Maybe Emma Birch is here, and we just can't see her, 'cuz she's hiding? She might be in the walls or the floor or up in the ceiling or, I don't know, do you think she might be right behind you, Evangeline?"


→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have  on the site (current and previous): Scotty and Bracken

How did you find us?: Rec

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Philippa Pearl Haddock

Gender: Female

Age: 12

Bloodline:
Halfblood

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?):
NPCs

Residence:
Windemere, Cumbria

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:
Bracken Thomas, Scotty Flickinger

Biography: (100 words minimum.)
In the foothills of Cumbria there is a place known as The Rumbling Valley. Around this lowlands the hills are sharp and tall and help keep it hidden from muggles. The valley is so low that passing magic in the air gets trapped there. Many unique flora and fauna have developed in The Rumbling Valley over time, and purple stormclouds are frequent in the sky. Their thunder shakes the earth so deeply that the valley was named after it. This is where Pippa Haddock grew up.

Her family has maintained a prosperous farm here for generations and understands how to work the unique landscape. They cultivate different plants for sale to apothecaries and woods for wandmakers, having gained fame for the potent white nightshade that grows in the trellises of the gardens.

The third child of five and one of a dozen cousins, Pippa thrived in her environment. Just not in the ways she was expected to. Even though daily duties were less than what her father had tackled back in his youth, she always approached hers at a much slower pace with such wide eyes for everything around her. Discipline had little effect, and eventually the middle child was accepted for the dawdler that she is.


Roleplay:
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:
"Oh sweet Janey," the girl composed herself after the escape of an infant gasp. The stroke on her canvas isssss different than she'd meant thanks to this unexpected intervention by the cosmos, and for the next moment she carefully admires the development. Kaleidoscope prism turned...terrestrial? Paradigm shift, isn't that the word?

Janey Hurst, such a ball of glaring orange energy.

"See those flowers?" On the edge of the park lawn grows tendrils of a weed that's no good for wildflowers - but is pretty of its own accord in these early months when tiny purple stars bloom on the vine. And when the bees come? Oh!

"How pretty are they, hm? Would you pick one for me?"

OTHER
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