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Archived Applications / Application - Drew Crichton
« on: 27/07/2012 at 09:29 »
Application for Hogwarts School
→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Drew Crichton
Birthday: December 21st, 1960 (1961?)
Hometown: London (East End)
Bloodline: Halfblood
Magical Strength (pick one): Conjuring & Summoning (Care of Magical Creatures?)
Magical Weakness (pick one): Transfiguration
Year (pick two): (1) Fourth (2) Third
Biography:
“CRICHTON!”
Mr. Bleersnut’s booming voice shook the decaying floorboards of Flat 3, 99 Featherstone Street.
“How many times do I have ter tell yeh t’ git yer bleedin’ rat out of ‘ere! The ruddy brute is after my cufflinks...”
Drew groaned. It was not unusual to hear the crotchety landlord bellowing to her from two floors below. His complaints normally concerned her pet Niffler, Henry, whom he referred to as a “bleedin’ rat.” Cats were the only pets permitted in the flat (Mr. Bleersnut’s only friends were felines, so for them he made a special exception), and any others – especially magical ones, as he was an embittered Squib – were strictly forbidden. However, Drew miraculously changed Mr. Bleersnut’s heart after promising that he would receive a large portion of the treasures the gold-lusty Niffler collected. This agreement was short-lived. Soon, Henry sniffed his way into the jewelry box of the elderly woman downstairs, leaving a tornado of destruction behind him. "Bandits, I say! Bandits on Featherstone Street! Always after my pearls, they are!" she cried, ignoring the exasperated Mr. Bleersnut's explanation about the Niffler. Since the woman’s subsequent move-out, the building became a warzone between Drew and her landlord. Drew and Henry simply could not part; not even Drew’s parents could reason with her about the matter. The 80-pound eleven-year-old would not budge.
“I don’ take orders from ninny-pantses!” Drew retorted, poking her head over the stairwell.
“Tha’s Mister Ninny-Pants to you! Show some respec’ to yer elders, why doncha?”
Rolling her eyes, Drew almost smiled. Part of her loved the old bat as much as she hated him.
“My ‘pologies,” she said. “Mister Ninny-Pants, don’ you recall tha’ gold nugget my Henry gen’rously presented t’ you the other day? An’ did he not rescue yer ol’ pocketwatch from tha’ sewer for yeh? Docile as a lamb, ‘e was. A bloody shame yer so ungrateful!”
“Two weeks!” Mr. Bleersnut conceded. “You’ve go’ two weeks, an’ after that, he’s stew!”
Drew smirked; Mr. Bleersnut had barked the same warning two weeks before. She was certain she had won yet again until he added:
“’Cause tha’s when yeh’ll be off ter Hogwarts! Ha!”
Right. Hogwarts. Her heart twisting in knots, Drew had read and reread her acceptance letter: Students may bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad… Of course Nifflers wouldn’t be allowed, but the Headmaster didn’t understand Henry, who was no ordinary Niffler.
An avid animal-lover, Drew had rescued the poor abandoned creature from a rubbish bin in Diagon Alley. Naturally, she assumed her parents and landlord would be pleased with her act of kindness, but to her dismay she was wrong. In fact, they each personally forbade her from keeping her new companion. Obeying their wishes, however, was out of the question; after all, Drew had already named the critter Henry and became his best friend. She resolved to hide him in a cardboard box under her bed, smuggling food for him routinely and sneaking him outside for walks. When Henry was well-behaved, she fed him cheese bits; when he was not, she sentenced him to short “time-outs” in the box. Henry responded well to this regimen and quickly learned to be a (mostly) obedient Niffler – two words not often seen adjacent to one another!
One morning, Mr. Crichton hurled his tea out of the window in surprise when he felt a long, curved nose rubbing his watch. Henry simply couldn’t be kept a secret forever (Drew was lucky to hide him successfully for as long as a month), and Drew knew exactly what fate had befallen her when she heard her father’s yelp that morning. Her parents were outraged, but no punishment could threaten Henry’s place with Drew. The two were inseparable and that was non-negotiable. Eventually, Drew’s parents began appreciating the treasures Henry brought home, and they couldn’t help but be impressed by Henry’s unusually decent conduct (a product of Drew’s rather obsessive training and care, since Nifflers are known for their destructive behavior). Shaking his head, Mr. Crichton had said, “You’re a Crichton, all righ’. Tha’s the Crichton tenacity!”
Tenacity was the foundation of Drew’s whole life. Her family came from nothing: The Crichtons were always considered "low-class" and lived off of her father’s failing hat-making business. Their cramped flat in the dodgy East End of London represented all they could afford. Yet in their struggles, the Crichtons always carried a positive outlook and never stopped working hard. Drew learned to be independent and help her family in any way she could (she often sent Henry “metal detecting"). Mr. Crichton saw this tenacity reflected in Drew’s attachment to Henry, and knew she would somehow find a way to bring her friend to Hogwarts. Sadly, for three years Drew’s attempts were unsuccessful. She landed herself in multiple detentions for sneaking Henry into her dormitory, each time forced to reread the same blasted phrase: an owl OR a cat OR a toad… Poor Henry had to stay with Drew’s hopelessly nutty Uncle Maxwell, who operated a magical zoo in Liverpool. Drew visited him on weekends whenever she could, but this wasn’t enough to quell her aching heart. Powered by the “Crichton Tenacity,” much mischief awaits the new school year as Drew continues to plot her reunion with Henry.
House Request: Hufflepuff or Gryffindor
It’s obvious at first glance that Drew has the air of a Gryffindor. She’s confident, outspoken, and makes bold choices. She doesn’t appear to be afraid of anything. On the other hand, she was born with fierce, Hufflepuff-like tenacity. She's a hard worker and she'll persevere to the bitter end. She loves animals and has a strong connection with living things (people and animals alike). Beneath her rough n’ tough exterior, she’s very empathetic and caring (especially to her dear pet Niffler, Henry!)
Personality:
As said above, Drew is a headstrong character with a whole lot of personality. She’s blunt in a mostly comical way, complemented by her cockney vernacular. She has determination that a freight train couldn’t stop. Though she likes to talk tough, she has a soft spot deep down, especially for those she loves. She also likes to gripe, but in actuality, she’s a very positive and resilient person. Her stubbornness and poor manners often get her into trouble.
Appearance:
Drew’s most defining feature is her frizzy, absolutely uncontrollable hair. She lets it fly around wild and actually doesn’t mind its unruliness. She considers it an inalienable part of her (and many think it fits her personality perfectly). She is tiny in stature for the mouth she waggles and has a boyish figure. She doesn’t care much about her appearance and it shows, but there is a certain charm in her unkempt looks.
→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
Option II:
“Oh, come now!"
Astrid Bixby’s voice carried down the corridor, the tall blonde girl not far behind. Her interviewee – or victim, depending on perspective – turned a corner and she frowned. They were always soelusive when she needed them. Sure, they would talk as if there was no tomorrow during class, but once she actually needed them to say something, they were nowhere to be found. Gryffindors.
Flustered, Astrid stopped in the middle of the corridor and stared, her parchment hanging limply from her hand. She was a good reporter, really, and she always did her best to make sure that everything she wrote was accurate. She glanced down to the quill, eyeing it with disdain. It wasn’t her fault if her quill misquoted. How was she supposed to know? It made for interesting articles, at least, and if she had misquoted the Head Boy last term as saying he had a love for stuffed animals, then that gave him personality. Astrid sighed.
A pout formed on her lips as she turned away, discouraged. The corridor was mercifully empty, though the doors to The Spellbound – the school newspaper – were ominously closed. Corbridge was a mercifully sweet editor, but Astrid was terrified of disappointing her all the same. She hadto come back with quotes.
Her eyes, blue, trailed her surroundings before choosing a new path, and she turned down a new corridor. A figure was ahead, and her eyes lit up, an impossibly rosy smile blossoming across her lips.
“Hey!” Astrid called, her voice light and singsong. She trotted to catch the person, her shoes clicking on the stone floor. “Wait up! It’s for the paper!” Her legs aided her admittedly poor running, and Astrid gasped as she came closer. “What do you think about serving frog legs at lunch? Some say it’s a delicacy, but others think it’s plain gross.”
Sample Roleplay Response:
"For Merlin's sake, where's th' bloody loo?" Drew grumbled to herself. Living at Hogwarts for four years never prevented her from winding up lost on a daily basis. She was certain that not only the stairs frequently rearranged themselves, but every blasted hallway. At the very least, there was no way the third floor bathroom had a static location.
"S'pose I'll have ter march my arse all the way back to th' common room..."
Patter, patter, patter. Drew suddenly heard footsteps and a musical voice echo behind her. Her eyebrows lifted at the mentioning of the school paper. Her? Interviewed? The notion flattered her in spite of herself -- that is, until she heard the young reporter's question.
"...Wha'?" Drew said incredulously. "Frog legs? Are yeh mad? 'Oo eats those fings? Th' twats at Beauxbatons? People, I say. They'll eat anyfing if someone all prestigious-like tells 'em it's a delicacy. Now, I can't say I've ever had me any frog legs, but I can't reckon they'd taste decent at all. I'd reckon frogs are qui' a bit be'er off alive, yeah? See, in my personal opinion, yeh've gotter weigh the digni'y of th' animal with its, er – cul'nary potential. For example, I'm a righ' animal-lover – honest – an' I'll still admit tha' a cow is in a much be'er state when it's a prime rib. Yeah? Not tha’ cows aren't nice blokes – it’s jus’ that they only sor' of chew cud an’ moo all day. Not terribly int'resting. But to slay a poor li'l frog f' the sake of a bite too meager for a gnome? A bite tha', dare I say, tastes like cat's arse? Right wrong. Er, right. I mean, it's wrong, mate."
Concluding her noble speech, Drew glanced at the reporter's enchanted quill. "Did yeh get all tha'? I 'ope so. 'Spect thatter be the front page come next week, orright? Feel free ter take m' photo." Turning her head and pursing her lips, Drew added: "Here. This is m’ good side."
→ ABOUT YOU.
Previous Characters (if applicable): Camille Bisset (Beauxbatons)
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