Patrick Pevenso

[Patrick Pevenso]

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Patrick Pevenso
Gender: Male
Age: Seventeen

Education: 
Four years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Two years of Private Instruction.

Residence:
London, England

Occupation:
None.

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?
No.

Requested Magic Levels: (see here on how to do this)
If you want levels above the usual 32 total, please fill out and submit the Special Request form here.

• Charms: 11
• Transfiguration: 10
• Divination: 9
• Summoning: 2

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:
I have others, but they need to be deleted. Decima Darling (to be deleted) Doppio Moulin (to be deleted) Elliot Esquire (to be deleted)

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Patrick Pevenso had once thought he'd led a normal life, and, at the time, that included his acceptance to Hogwarts and attendance at the school. Recently, he's learned that normal is quite the subjective term. The life he's lived thus far is far from normal for him, but perhaps it is normal for someone else. Patrick's Muggle family was happy and content. They worked jobs (his parents, at least) and attended school (the children, naturally). And sure, Hogwarts was a bit of a shake-up, but not as much as one might think considering Juliet, Patrick's sister, was accepted to Beauxbatons of special accord only mere years before Patrick's own acceptance to Hogwarts.

Four years at Hogwarts proved rather trying though, for the young boy. It was never presumed in his own mind that Hogwarts would be the place he'd come to learn so much about himself. It was just a school after all. Yet, between the people he met and the things he did, a whole new individual, blossoming with pride and love, came shining through. True, some changes were good, but perhaps not all of them. For in Patrick's fourth year at the school, he... simply vanished. One evening he did not return to the Hufflepuff common room. Most thought nothing of it, assuming he was off frolicking with some boy, or playing mindless dare games with friends. He was a popular kid and it wasn't entirely unusual for him to be out past curfew.

What was unusual, was for him to miss classes the next morning. One, maybe not so strange, but all of them? Strange indeed. And the next evening, for dinner, he did not arrive. Neither to bed that night, breakfast the next morning, classes that day, and Quidditch practice the following afternoon. An odd occurrence indeed. None seemed to know where young Patrick Pevenso had disappeared to.

What no one knows, nor will understand, is that the morning of Patrick's disappearance, he received a rather disturbing piece of news. Patrick's father had always been someone he looked up to, wishing only to grow into at least half the man he was. He loved his father with every ounce of his being. To say the news of his death came as a shock, would be a rather disrespectful understatement. He'd been scheduled to leave by train that night, to return to Brighton, where his family lived, and mourn the loss of such an important member of the family. Patrick simply could not do it. Facing the reality of the situation, the reality of that which we call life, would ruin Patrick, and in a bold action, recognizing his own weaknesses, Patrick left out the doors of Hogwarts castle, walked past the train, and off into the darkness, trunk and wand in hand.

Destination was simple. Hogsmeade was not far off and they had rooms for rent, and, he, plenty of gold. And there he stayed, for a night a two, before traveling by Floo to Diagon Alley where he was put up in the local tavern. To the untrained eye, Diagon Alley might seem a silly place for a wizard to hide, but for Patrick it was as effective as invisibility. His mother knew nothing of Diagon Alley, not even it's location so for Patrick, it was safe. At least for a little while. Diagon Alley is not a place that can boast of flawless characters, even though it's highly populated with good witches and wizards.

Weeds still grow in a garden.

---

"Excuse me, m'boy. I believe you look a little young to be sulking around a tavern at this hour of the night. Shouldn't you be in school?"

Patrick looked up from his butterbeer at the towering creature that stood before him now. He was a wizard, that much was sure, but something in his face read inhuman and disconnected from the rest of him. Patrick didn't answer, but instead traced his fingers around the rim of his stein.

"Come now, son. Can't you hear?"

"I can hear just fine, thank you. I'm busy."

The man laughed raucously. With a hefty thud he placed his bottom into the chair across from Patrick. Flourishing his cape behind him, he set his wand on the table in front of him and waved his arm towards the bar. Not long after, a glass of deep purple wine drifted through the air and plopped itself into his meaty, callused hand. Patrick turned his attention to the wand. It was scraggly and blemished with knots and scrapes you might find on a tree branch; in fact it looked like it'd been ripped right from a tree.

"You like it?" the man asked, noticing the direction of Patrick's stare, "Finest wandmaker in India fashioned this fellow from a pine out in Germany. Travels the world, he does. Makes wands from only the strangest trees. They're right great though, I should tell you. C'mon. Let's have a look at yours shall we?"

Patrick looked into the man's eyes, his brow furrowing steadily. Was it all that odd to examine another's wand? Was it even more odd to ask to do so? A twinkle in the dark eyes of the man flashed in an almost blinding manner. He smiled a toothy, taut smile, and Patrick reached into his cloak and retrieved his own wand. In an instant the man snatched it from Patrick, holding it close to his face now.

"Yes. Mighty fine. Oak, I can tell. Seems to be about nine inches. Good length." He bent it slightly. "Sturdy!" he grunted. His face scrunched as he tested the durability of Patrick's wand. As Patrick watched, he could feel his heart beating ever quicker with anxiety. Just as he was about to ask for it back, the man snapped his wand in two with an unsettling crack. Smiling still, he cast the wand back on to the table where it ricocheted off Patrick's stein and rolled about the table aimlessly. Patrick's heart sank, deep into his feet. He felt he would vomit.

"Oops." the man said, almost pleased with himself. Patrick opened his mouth to speak, to express his rage, but no words came out. Instead, a self-pitying feeling of worthlessness washed over him. The room felt darker now, and he, naked.

"Listen," said the man, whom Patrick was surprised had the gall to remain sitting in front of him. "Come with me to India, tonight, and I'll buy you a new wand myself. It's only fair." Patrick shook his head. "Aw, don't be sour. How about this? I'll even teach you. You've left school, it's only right you be taught by a real wizard. Wouldn't you think?"

Patrick stayed silent. He looked between his broken wand and the wand the man had set before him. Suddenly the consequences of the decision he'd made weeks before settled in. He left Hogwarts and, at this point, wasn't sure if they'd take him back. He certainly couldn't return home now, even if he wanted to, which he was sure he did not. And now that this stranger had snapped his want in two, he was magic-less, a feeling he rather loathed as each second ticked by. It would appear he didn't have much choice.

"Alright." Patrick spoke, finally.

The man smiled and held out his hand to Patrick.

"Hold on tight, son." And with a crack the two disapparated out of the tavern, gone in a flash.

---

The next few years were spent with this man. Patrick came to know him as a friend, and almost family. He kept his promise, buying Patrick a new wand and immediately began instructing him. Some of the magic he taught Patrick, however, seemed questionable in terms of morality, but he could not deny either the liking he'd taken to the man, nor the connection he felt to his new wand, pure and flawless. It wasn't the perfect existence, but it kept Patrick's mind of other things he'd rather not have thought about, and for him, that was enough. So they carried on like that, traveling and learning until one day, when Patrick awoke at the tavern they'd been holed up in in Switzerland for a few days, and went to knock on his companion's door. The door was empty, the room ransacked, and the man gone. Nothing was left behind, save for a small letter on the pillow and it read only this:

Patrick,

Be smart. Be brave. Live well. You're a talented bloke I was happy to know. Don't try to find me, for it won't be worth your time. Return to London. Be with your family and your friends. Most of all, live the life you were meant to live.

~ Arsgard

And after the feeling of shock and disappointment had faded, that was exactly what Patrick did. The return to London was bittersweet, yet long deserved. And upon his first steps back into Diagon Alley, he finally understood why he'd been left. This was home.

Roleplay:
Reply as your character to the following:

It was impossible for Dianne to stay out of trouble. It wasn't that she was looking for trouble, it's just that trouble always managed to find her. Today she wished she could find something equally familiar but more comforting.

The five-year old girl hugged her puffskein closer to her and brushed her face in its soft fur for comfort. She had named him herself and he was always her special pet. No she was certain she had never gone down this side street before. Her anxiety increased every second as darkness fell as she walked down the road. A loud noise came to her left and she buried her face in her pet's fur completely. The scared girl bolted the opposite way slamming the both of them into the wall of the nearest building. Tottering back a few steps she found a door a few feet to her right and ran to open it. What light there was inside spilled out into the darkness and she spilled into the room.

Once in, she was caught between the impulse to curl her cloak up more tightly around her and loosen her grip on it. She wasn't alone anymore but she was now among strangers instead, which was nearly as terrifying. Her puffskein had recovered from the shock of the wall and now was purring contentedly as the girl hugged it, causing a mildly calming effect on the girl. Gathering her courage, she marched up to the nearest person, pulled on the nearest clothing hem and blurted out in a loud voice:

"I'm lost and it's dark and I wanted to know where I am but I'm not scared but I am worried that Sambundeakin is scared because he's little and needs something to eat and wants to go home."

She paused to draw a breath in her nearly never-ending sentence, "He misses my and his mommy."

To explain the scared girl held up the custard-colored puffskein. Sambundeakin the puffskein, however simply purred as if nothing on earth was wrong in the world.

Roleplay Response:
It was strange sitting in the very tavern he'd up and left year ago, now, but Patrick found comfort in it all the same. Nothing had changed. Everything was just as weathered and worn as he'd left it before. The only difference now, was that Patrick didn't feel so out of place anymore. Older, as significantly more mature (by his standards anyway) Patrick felt at ease in the tavern. His butterbeer frothed over the sides as he picked it up to sip from it. It was relaxing knowing he could sit here, in the dull murmur of the tavern, and enjoy his beverage without disruption from the pesky troubles that lay beyond the door.

The door that viciously burst open just as Patrick sipped, causing him to slosh a bit to the side where it landed with a splash on the bench. Anyone would have easily assumed something terrible were about to walk in, and Patrick seized his wand in his pocket, gripping it tightly in anticipation. He was surprised, though, to find a tiny girl standing in the doorway, carrying a little puffball he recognized as a Puffskein. Harmless little balls of fur, they were often pets for little ones and Patrick recalled a time when he was jealous of others who'd owned them at a younger age.

He watched as the girl's eyes darted around, before planting themselves on his image. She scurried over, frantically. In her bashful way, she spoke with conviction, tugging at the hemline of her clothing and Patrick's eyebrows raised with a slight bit of curiosity as she did so. He wouldn't have said he saw himself in this girl, but he did recognize the feeling of being in a place where one ought not to be, and wondering the best thing to do. The girl's bravery was admirable and Patrick listened intently. When she finished she held her puffskein up proudly where it cooed contentedly, blithely unaware of the state of panic it's mummy was in. Patrick smiled and patted it's head.

"Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, I suppose." Patrick muttered. He straightened up, though, ready to assume the role of helpful adult. "I'm Patrick and I'm going to help you find your mummy." he said, realizing only after the fact how stupid it'd sounded. "I doubt she's in here, though. What do you say we head back outside and have a look around, shall we?"

He tried to speak in his happiest tone of voice, knowing that first impressions stuck with children perhaps more than anyone else. With a slight bit of hesitance, he held out his hand and smiled at the girl. His dark brown, almond eyes brightened like a beacon in the dark room and he suddenly found himself wondering what he'd do if she said no.

OTHER
How did you find us? Other

[Elizabeth Birch-Hurst]

Hey Patrick!

Welcome back. Normally we asked that your lowest level be at least half your highest level. Either you could adjust it to be that way and I could approve you now, or you could send in a special request and we could hold off on it. If you adjust the levels for now, you could also send the request after.

Thanks,

~Birch

[Patrick Pevenso]

Adjusted Levels:

Charms: 10
    Transfiguration: 10
    Divination: 6
    Summoning: 6

[G.W. Oswald]

Accepted!