Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

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→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Ephraim Icarus Beckham.

Birthday: 19 July, 1952.

Hometown: Hogsmeade Village, Scotland.

Bloodline: Halfblood.

Magical Strength (pick one): Conjuring/Summoning.

Magical Weakness (pick one): Transfiguration.

Year (pick two): Second, First.

Biography:

“Ahoy there, matey!” he shouted down from his perch.  He wasn’t very high off the ground; peach trees didn’t make for good climbing.  The small, squinted eyes of his sister peered back up at him, small fists poised on hips.  Ephraim saluted her, and then the assorted dolls and soft toys positioned on a blanket at the tree’s base, suddenly aware that he was interrupting her picnic party.  It hardly mattered; she didn’t have a monopoly on the tree, after all.  “All aboard the Pink Fuzz, or... or I’ll make you walk the plank!”  He pointed to a smaller branch nearby, and grinned.

AJ rolled her eyes at him and huffed.  “That doesn’t make any sense.  How’m I gonna walk the plank if I’m not on the ship?  Anyway, I was playing here first.”

Eph made a thinking face, lips all scrunched up.  His eyes lit up, daggers of roguery.  “Fine,  All aboard the Pink Fuzz, or I’ll harpoon you!”

A few feet below, AJ didn’t seem impressed.  “Oh yeah?  With what harpoon?”  She was starting to lose interest, he could tell— her stance shifted to the side, eyes wandering between him and the house behind her.  Sam, who looked to be reading something in the shade of the house, looked positively annoyed by the ruckus.

Eph was undeterred.  He scrambled to the aforementioned plank, a flimsier limb sprawling out across half the yard.  If he stretched, gripping a branch above him, he could juuust reach a ripening peach, its pale and speckled skin far less impressive than it would be in a week or so.  (Or would have been.  Its fate as a casualty of war was sealed the moment he plucked it from its stem.)  He nearly slipped, but quickly righted himself and hopped down to his original position.  “This harpoon,” he said, shaking the fruit at her with a smug twist of his lips.

AJ’s eyes widened and she shrieked, running under the low branches to the other side of the tree.  “That’s not a harpoon,” she shouted back at him.  He turned around toward her, and she scrambled away again, this time toward the house.  “I’m telling Mum!”

Eph dropped the peach immediately, catching Sam’s raised eyebrow even in the shade.  His older brother would surely testify against him, and the last thing he wanted was Mum’s quiet disappointment, and dumb lessons about violence.  She was never even surprised or bothered by his antics, and that was the worst part.  “Ugh, I didn’t even do anything!  I wasn’t gonna actually throw it!”  AJ stopped at the door, arms folded and foot tapping loudly on the wood steps.  He knew exactly what that meant— she was looking for a bribe.  He let out the longest, most miserable sigh he could manage, and jumped down from the tree to the blanket, rolling dramatically onto his back.  “Fiiiiinee.  I’ll play your... picnic game or whatever, again.  But afterwards— pirates.”

Before he could finish, AJ was back at the tree, standing over him.  A satisfied grin colored her face pink, and her hands shook in excitement.  “Pirates.  But it has to be princess pirates, and I get to be the Captain.  You’re a terrible Captain.”

Eph groaned, but it was only for show.  AJ knew just as well that he liked her princess games, but he wasn’t about to admit to it, especially in front of Sam.  “Okay fine, as long as I get to be a princess pirate this time instead of a sea monster.  Not all kelpies like to eat children.”

“Deal.”

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.

House Request: Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.

Personality:

Eph is still trying to figure out his place in the world.  Daycare workers and babysitters would call him a troublemaker, a loud and rascally boy.  Left unchecked, his attention-seeking and need for validation get him into trouble, in reckless thrill-seeking and mischief.  Beneath the carefree grin and impulsivity, however, Eph is full of hopeless emotion and insecurity.  All he wants is to be seen and be enough, but it’s never enough.

Appearance:

Ephraim’s eyes and hair have been a source of trouble since before he could say a word.  The incongruity of his lighter shades to his parents’ and older brother’s deep brown hair and eyes led first to accusations of infidelity, second to willful disregard, and third to a jagged separation.  Years later, Eph carries the burden as shame and confusion, though he’s never quite connected the dots.

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.

Option I:

The dungeons. A place eleven-year-old Evangeline had not yet travelled since her arrival at Hogwarts.

A place she really was just fine with not knowing; but it was too late. The dare had been accepted, even if it had been done in fear of being kicked out of Gryffindor, like the older girls had said she would because Gryffindors were supposed to be brave.

The air changed instantly when she hit the main corridor of the dungeons. The dampness was almost too much for her and she instinctively took a deep breath to avoid the sensation of being suffocated. There was also a sour burning smell which Evangeline assumed was from many, many Potions lessons.

Further and further she walked, her steps so slow and gentle they made no noise against the stone walls and floor. The feeling that she wasn't alone crept up her spine and raised the tiny hair on the back of her neck. Shivering, Evangeline wrapped her arms around herself. Suddenly, she missed the warmth and comfort of the Gryffindor common room. The fire was always going and it made her feel at ease.

Why had she let those girls talk her into this? She was only eleven, she didn't have to be brave. Surely the Headmistress would not kick her out of Hogwarts for not being brave.

If only she had these thoughts while being dared to search for the ghost of one Emma Birch, whom supposedly haunted the dungeons. It was not, Evangeline had learned, the place where the sixteen-year-old girl's life had ended but as she had been from the house with a snake as its mascot, it was the place her spirit had returned to. That common room was down here somewhere, she'd been told.

Something - the small blonde girl wasn't quite sure what - but something made her stop in her tracks suddenly. There was a low, dull thumping noise. Or maybe that was her heart beating so loudly she thought it was coming from outside her body.

"H-h-hello?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Remembering that she was supposed to be brave, Evangeline tried again.

"Hello! Is Emma Birch here?"

The sound of her own words bouncing back at her off the walls made her jump.

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He’d been trying to find Mr. Leighton’s office.  It was in the dungeons somewhere, he knew, but that was about all he knew.  See, there was an issue with the Quidditch team rosters this year— that is, he wasn’t on them, and he ought to be.  Not that he was better than the other candidates.  They were all so big and old and tough, like they could eat a first year for breakfast.  But it couldn’t hurt to introduce himself, right?  Right?  He could make a good mascot, at least.  Mr. Leighton wouldn’t eat a first year for breakfast, would he?

The thought spiraled like an endless Hogwarts Express, as Ephraim got himself more and more lost.  Who would miss one first year, so early in the term?  Maybe Mr. Leighton did eat them, a little at a time, once a year.  A small condition to concede to a tenured employee.

He didn’t know how long he’d been wandering the dungeon halls, but the echoing rumbles from his stomach suggested it had been a while.  If he couldn’t find Mr. Leighton’s office, maybe he could find something to eat.  Doubtful.  Oh, wasn’t there a pool down somewhere in the dungeons?  Lucky snakes.  Maybe there were fish in—

The shrillness of an unexpected voice startled his feet to silence.  Any thoughts of pools or Mr. Leighton scurried into the shadows of the dark hallway behind him.  A breathy greeting replaced his stomach’s grumblings, bouncing off the walls to surround them.  “Uhhh...”  He blinked at the figure.

“Emma Birch?”  Several seconds passed before the name registered.  He only half-listened to his mum’s cautionary tales, but murder was more interesting than her usual divinations.  “Oh.”  Click, click, the details snapped into recollection.  “Wait, she’s a ghost?  I thought she was a tree— at Camp Loki?  That’s what my mum said, anyway.”

He peered at the pale shade of her hair reflected from a single torch onto her hair.  In the dim light, she looked almost ghostly herself, and Eph’s eyes widened.  “Are you sure you’re not the ghost of Emma Birch?”  He put his arms up in defense.  “Look, I ain’t no Hex ‘n Rick, swear.”

→ ABOUT YOU.

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