Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Alec Ceri Nevitt

Gender: Male

Age: 8 - December 12th, 1930

Bloodline:
Pureblood

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): 
Rhun and Alison Nevitt (Not currently played)

Residence:
St Mungo’s

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?
St Mungo’s

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:
Eirwen Medraut et al.

Biography: (100 words minimum.)
When the twins were born and Alec’s mother passed away, things changed at the Nevitt Manor. They had been different for a while, just like they would in any other home where the loving mother had been put on bedrest, but with the death of the mother, it was like the children changed too. They all dealt with her death in different ways. Lexi grew stronger and bossed her younger siblings around, Lynne took to the gardens and the fairy tales, Ariel cried and pouted, and Alec, Alec never really seemed to understand.

That wasn’t anything new, though.

The family had known from he was very young, that Alec was not the heir the family had hoped for. As a baby he had been fussy and cried a lot, nearly driving the always patient Alison into despair. Always something seemed wrong, always the baby boy was fussing, never was he eating enough, never was he quite as easy as the girls had been.

The first four years was a nightmare for the mother. She was sure she must be doing something wrong with the child, because he just wasn’t like other babies. And if he was trouble as a baby, he didn’t become any easier to handle when he learned to walk. Instead it seemed like Alec had an uncanny ability to climb everything, and by the time he was two and a half, he had learned to climb to the top of every piece of furniture in the house. By the time he was three, he had figured out how to unlock the doors and the windows to get onto the roof of the house. Needless to say, both his mother and the nanny were kept quite busy!

Alec started talking around the time of his fourth birthday. The doctors had always said it would come, and they had been correct. Whether it really had been a matter of the mother coddling him and him being a stubborn child, no one really knew, though. Unfortunately learning to talk did not mean getting better at listening. His parents could tell him the same thing, over and over, and still he didn’t seem to listen to them. Or maybe he just didn’t quite understand.

Some months after Alec’s mother had passed away, his father decided that the boy had been coddled for too long and instructed the family tutor to start giving the young Master lessons. That didn’t go too well, though, and Alec screamed the entire thirty minutes the lesson lasted and even managed to kick the tutor in the shin when he tried to prevent the boy from climbing out of the window. Lunch in the classroom was no less event free and the contents of the plate ended on the floor. The next day was the same, and after two weeks the tutor said stop - who could teach a boy who only screamed, sat on the floor most of the time and preferred breaking the pencils instead of writing with them? But stubborn as he was, Rhun Nevitt persisted and simply hired a new tutor.

By the time Alec was eight and a half, the family had been through seven tutors, and Rhun was in despair. The girls were doing well and the younger boy, the survivor of the twins born when their mother had died, was quickly becoming the pride of the family. Alec, on the other hand, was not developing the way the doctors had hoped for.

Too much freedom, one had said. Too much coddling, was the reply of another. A third suggested inadequate feeding. A fourth blamed the passing of his mother, and a fifth, though never spoken aloud, was of the clear impression that the mother must have failed caring for the boy when he had been an infant.
But they all agreed, something was not right with Alec Nevitt, and the older he got, the more obvious it became.

The family doctor had given up long ago and the tutors had left. By the time Alec was found in the middle of the night wandering close to the nearby muggle village and threw a screaming fit when the nanny tried to get him back to the manor, Rhun Nevitt did what the family doctor had said for years; he took him to St Mungo’s and left him there. There was nothing more he could do.

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:

The grass underneath his bare feet was soft and cool, and when he walked his feet sank down just a tiny little bit, as if he was walking on a huge, squishy sponge. He liked that.

“Seventy-six. Seventy-seven. Seventy-eight.” Alec carefully counted his steps in a low sing-song voice, his eyes squinting up into the sky. Grammy had said children went blind from looking into the sun, but that wasn’t true because he wasn’t blind.

“Seventy-nine. Eighty. Eighty-one. Eighty-two.” There was a spring to his steps, a little like there was to a rubber ball which was bounced on the ground. It was nice being outside in the sun and he liked the park. He liked it when it wasn’t too noisy.   

"You!"

The yell made Alec jump and he looked at the girl, squinting. Who was she? He didn’t know her, so why was she yelling at him? He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“You?” The 8 year old questioned confused, eyes on the girl’s mouth. She was loud. He wasn’t sure he liked her very much.

"...Do you want to play?"

“You want to play.” For a moment it looked like Alec hadn’t understood the question. He sucked in his lower lip and looked down at the straw between his fingers, twirling it. Round and round and round. It twirled, and the feeling was nice against his skin.

She had asked a question, though, and questions had to be answered. Alec looked closer at the straw. Father said you had to answer questions when someone asked them. He said it was a rule. Even though he didn’t always answer questions himself.

“No,” Alec shook his head firmly. He didn’t like playing. He always said no when Ariel asked him, even if she didn’t always listen. And sometimes she didn’t even ask.

“I don’t like dolls.”

OTHER
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