Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

THE BASICS
Name: Type in your character's first and last name here, as well as any preferred nicknames.

Bronwyn Mocking

Former Character's Name (if you had one): Type in the name of a character you have played at this site before. If you have not played here before, leave this answer blank.
Jay Cambell


CHARACTER DETAILS
House Request:
*** If you are requesting a certain house, please write a paragraph on why your character would have been sorted into this house. This will not guarantee your character a spot in this house, after all, the sorting hat does not always ask what you want! However, we will try and accommodate your choice.

Year: 
Type in your two year choices here.
*** Due to other applicants, we may not be able to fulfill your request but will try to keep you in the general age group.
5th year or 6th

Bloodline:
 Unknown

Magical Strength (pick one):
Charms

Magical Weakness (pick one):
Divination

Biography:

Bronwyn was strong.

Bronwyn had no choice but to be strong. If she weren’t strong she would be dead, simple and clear.

But if she was only stronger, her family might still be alive.

Slowly the brunette traced her steps. She had found the girl hiding in an alley in London. The girl reminded her of her own sister, Poppy. The girl had the same light brown hair with hazel eyes. She was an exact copy; the only difference was the facial expressions. Poppy always had a serious grimace on her face; she showed expressions far beyond her age but this girl, was completely terrified. Poppy never showed her fear, not once. An image of Poppy smiling before her eyes closed into an endless sleep flashed into Bronwyn’s head. Poppy had died from sickness.

Poppy had called it shadows cough. She had fought long and hard until finally giving in to the shadows. But not once had she shown a sigh of weakness. Poppy had stolen food and pick pocketed strangers like she always did but Bronwyn could see the girl weakening in physical appearance. It still amazed her how a girl of only ten could stay so strong. But their father had always though of his girls to be strong. Since the day he taught them the way of the streets till the day he died.

He had taught the girls one of the most vital lessons of their life, how to survive. He had shown Bronwyn the right technique to ward off offensive attacks and defend herself without a weapon of her own. He taught her just where to stab if it was needed. He had shown Poppy where the best places are to find food without being chased or hurt by one of the angry restaurant owners who did heavens know what with the left over food.

They did understand the vital importance of survival.

Those restaurant owners, fat with staples, did not understand the vital importance. He had once tested her, but the fat man failed his own test. He had purposely gone and thrown leftover bread into the wet streets of London, his eyes never left her and a grin was spread across the fat mans face. Bronwyn did not leave that unattended. During that very evening when the man decided to go home, she had broke into the restaurant. It had honestly been much too easy, as if the man wanted it to happen.

But even he was not that smart.

Bronwyn had destroyed the restaurant; she had sacked the food supplies and wrecked the place. And inside that very restaurant, where the fat man had his warm little office, she had written on the wall. She wrote words that meant nothing to the man but everything to her, words that could move a whole city of people. But she was good with words. The very next day, on the cover of the newspaper was her face, eyebrows raised slightly and a grin across her lips. Bronwyn was now a criminal.

She spent the next few months hiding, avoiding going out during that day as much as possible, and only searching for food during the night. But them Poppy caught the shadows. This forced her to seek medical help, but naturally, nobody cared. Bronwyn tried her best not to steal, to seek an honest job to earn the money for Poppy’s medication, but she would not be hired. Maybe it was because of her temper, answering in a sarcastic tone and always questioning where the items that get thrown away go.

But these people still did not understand.

But this girl that Bronwyn found was nothing like Poppy. Bronwyn had learned that the girl spent most of her time relying on Bronwyn more then fighting for herself. She never looked for food and spent most of her time hiding. Bronwyn first thought it was because of the shock and trauma from being abandoned or maybe even loosing a loved one. She did ask the girl once where she came from, but the girl merely shook her head and answered that it was long forgotten.

Later Bronwyn learned that her name was Ellie.

Ellie had tried to occasionally go hunting for food but often failed and came home in such a state of shock that Bronwyn had to sing the girl to sleep. But there was one thing for sure, Ellie did not belong here. She spent the next week searching for a way to find out more about the girl. Small clues about where she came from. Every single thing that Ellie said was a clue, even her accent itself which was a rich British one at that. Bronwyn had grown accustomed to the street slang tongue, often saying things like aye.

But one day Bronwyn found out exactly what she needed. A newspaper thrown in the trash close to where the pair slept. The paper was crumbled and Bronwyn was just about to tear it into strips to feed a fire when a name caught her attention. Ellie Brighting, now missing for almost a year. Ellie… There was a picture of a small girl who looked just like her Ellie except that she looked extremely well groomed. The girl’s hair was done in a bun on the top of her head with one curl bouncing into her face. The girl in the picture was smiling and held a plump creature in her arms. It was a cat of course but a hideous one at that.

But there was no doubt that this was her Ellie.

The family was an incredibly well know, wealthy household that lived in the center of London. Apparently they where distraught about the loss of there daughter and mourned her each day of there miserable lives. The family also mentioned that they would give anything to have their little girl back safely in their arms, absolutely anything.

But was Bronwyn really eager to give up her little friend for money?

She asked herself the question over and over again before finally coming to a conclusion. She would take Ellie home and leave, nothing more and nothing less.

Once she did that, Bronwyn never heard about Ellie again. Her parents where amazed at the sudden appearance of their daughter looking like a half drowned rat and then Bronwyn looked just as worse beside her. They hadn’t really taken their time to thank her, but it didn’t really bother Bronwyn at all. She was actually pleased that that family hadn’t asked her any questions, they packed her a back with a small diner and let her leave. Ellie was horrified to watch Bronwyn go, but she knew that Ellie would have a better life; she would be back in her pampered lifestyle where nobody ever got hurt.

But then something very strange happened.

An owl had landed not far from Bronwyn’s hideout and slowly sidestepped towards her. The creature was magnificent and dropped a white envelope beside her before vanishing into the night. Bronwyn stared at the letter for a while and reached a shaky hand towards it. Her name was written on the envelope, Bronwyn Mocking. Mocking? She had never heard that before, she never even realized that she had a last name, but there on the paper was her name. Handwriting much neater then she had seen and probably a thousand times better than her own.

She still did not know if the even wanted to open the letter.

But her fingers tore hungrily at it anyway, eager to see what it was hiding. But she was disappointed at the result. The letter was about a school; she had gotten one of these before. Quite some years ago, when she was eleven years old. Her father had given her the envelope and left her to decide what she wanted to do, what there was no way that she would leave her family to some magical school that in her mind did not exist. But something drove her to find out more about it. Maybe because she had nothing left, nothing to fight for.

She had nobody anymore.


ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
Please include these sections if they are not addressed in your biography.

Personality:

Bronwyn has a very unique personality. She is a very brave soul and hates to feel powerless. She hates to feel as if she is bound to something, something keeping her from being free. She takes on any challenge head and never refuses anything. She can rush into things that have nothing to do with her to protect somebody she cares about, even if it might involve endangering her own safety. She was a very sharp tongue that slices through people harder then knives. She likes to hurt people by words rather then physical pain thinking that it causes them more mental pain then anything more. She loves children and wants to protect there innocence, sometimes even being slightly extreme. However she tries to teach them to fight for themselves. Bronwyn does not rely on anybody, it takes a while for her to trust another but once a bond is founded it is hard to break.


Appearance:
 

Bronwyn does not consider herself to be beautiful, everybody else does. She has no idea about the effect she can leave on the minds of boys and often takes this as a joke. She has wavy brown hair that goes beyond her shoulders. Her hair often falls into her eyes and she doesn’t even bother on moving it away. Her eyes are the same chocolate color as her hair and they light up when she smiles. Her eyes can tell many things about her. Her pupils become so large when she gets angry or afraid, it almost seems as if her eyes go black. However when she feels happiness her eyes widen and become quite larger then they normally are. Her body build isn’t something she has ever been proud of. Being short and petite has never helped her survive and she only considers it an advantage of being fast and agile.

SAMPLE ROLEPLAY
You come across one of these three posts on the site. Please reply to one only as your character would.
*** Remember, you can only roleplay your own character's actions, not James' or Astrid's.

 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: Type in your response here.

We should be grateful for anything we receive.

Her father had often told her that. From the time when she had found a rotten apple and her father had eagerly taken a bite from it. She had been repulsed by the brownish tone of the thing and refused to eat. However, after a while, when they found nothing more she had made quick work of the apple grateful for it. She was grateful to find a rotten apple. Bronwyn strolled though the castle, she often did this when she felt guilty. A feeling that often made its way into her leaving her wishing that she had never let her father go to find a job.

A job he had never come back from.

It was her fault that he had died in that fire. She had been the one who pressured him to try and find an honest work. Not pick pocketing or robbing like they had done for the last ten years of her life.

She shook the thoughts away from her mind and started thinking about Ellie. She often wondered how the girl fared and thought maybe to write her a letter. But she always turned away the idea, nervous that Ellie was still furious with her. But what would the little girl have done now that she was going to Hogwarts. Ellie wouldn’t survive on her own. She would either get killed by one of the street gangs or worse.

Just then something disturbed her.

Little footsteps behind her startled Bronwyn. She turned and watched as Astrid was trotting towards her in a furious flustered state. Bronwyn sighed, Astrid was one of those people who annoyed her. Bronwyn leaned against the wall and waited for the shorter girl to reach her. “What now?” she had heard Astrid scream something about the paper but her next sentence really ticked Bronwyn off, “ Is this some kind of sick joke?” Her lip curled slightly, “Forget it Astrid” She then turned on her heel and left.

Some people here really ticked her off.