Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Ezra Warwick
Gender: Male
Age: Eighteen years old.
Blood Status: Halfblood

Education:
Ex-Hogwarts Student

Residence:
On his sister’s tiny couch, London

Occupation
Junior Healer

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?
St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Requested Magic Levels:

• Charms: 10.
• Divination: 5.
• Transfiguration: 9.
• Summoning: 8.

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
N/A

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
F Marchen et al.

Biography: (300 words minimum.)


Born on a Thursday, a middle of the week birth at fourteen minutes past midday for a young man destined to be a middle child.

He was bang smack in the centre of five Warwick children. There was brown-nosing and bossy: Elizabeth, the artsy loner: Eloise, Ezra: the perpetual middle child, then outspoken and headstrong: Emmy, and the baby of the family Easton (always getting all of the attention, of course).

At eighteen years old, he sits four years younger than Eloise and six years older than Emily, he never quite fit in the flow of older or younger children; despite being squished into a cramped bedroom with the latter two for the last decade. Ezra never quite felt like he stood out against them. When he won his first quidditch match, Elizabeth was taking N.E.W.T’s and that took everyone’s attention as she stressed and stressed. The day he played in the championship at the Gobstones Club was the same day Easton went and broke his arm; and that had taken priority. Not that he resented it, but East probably did it on purpose. In the hectic ebb and flow of the Warwick household, he felt too easily forgotten.

It was this feeling that pushed Ezra Warwick to be better than everything else. He possessed an innate sense of extreme competitiveness towards all of his siblings. This pushed Ezra Warwick to flourish academically, that pushed him into so many extracurriculars that he bounced between social circles as if he belonged to them all. It was never easy though, he didn’t have the natural charisma of his brother, the artistic flair or precise and headstrong drive of his sisters. Every moment of it was hard work. Every smile was a facade until the eighteen year old had so many masks to slip on for each group and accomplishment that he still wasn’t sure who he was; and finally, Ezra Warwick developed a cheeky, flirtatious, and arrogant confidence big enough to shroud the desperate desire to be recognised.

He would make himself recognisable.

No matter the cost.

Which was something he couldn’t do in the outskirts of Ireland in a bedroom that once belonged to Elizabeth and Eloise and still stunk too heavily of all things girls, and sisters. So, he left Ireland on an impulse, and showed up on the doorstep of his sister’s flat (the loner one, not the bossy boots) one hour after a job interview where he arrogantly told them he would do anything. Ezra flashed his sister a grin, eyed the familiar splashes of paint on her fingertips and crushed her in a hug before he commandeered the couch without so much as asking.

Eloise was too quiet and too nice to say no to him, anyway.

He’d made it to London. He’d get the job; and then, Ezra Warwick would make sure he was never forgotten again.

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:
With his hands pressed into his pockets, and the collar of his coat popped up, Ezra all but swaggered down the alleyway. A bored lilt in his eyes as he tried to locate a sandwich cart that wouldn’t cost a piece of his soul for a bite to eat. He hadn’t been paying much attention to the bustle around him, but it was the swing of her hips that had caught him first, as his gaze skimmed past her and then flickered back for an appreciative longer look. He was so mesmerised that it took a moment to realise the witch ahead of him in Diagon Alley had pitched forward onto the ground.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Ezra picked up his own pace and within moments he had crouched near the woman. “That was a nasty fall. Are you alright?” He asked, as he reached to try and help her with recovering her heel. From the side of his eye, he watched her carefully, noting that she looked just as good from the front as she had from the back.

“Do you need me to, uh-” Ezra flashed her a cheeky grin that highlighted the dimples in his cheeks “-check you out?” The question may have seemed innocent enough until he smirked and added smoothly. “I’m a healer, you know.”

A junior one, albeit, all of two days employed; but she didn’t need to know that.

OTHER
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