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Ephraim O. Prothero
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Ephraim Prothero:
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Application for Hogwarts School
→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.
Name: Ephraim Owain Prothero
Birthday: 10 July 1960
Hometown: The Prothero Castle, Porthcawl, Glamorgan, Wales
Bloodline: Pureblood
Magical Strength (pick one): Charms
Magical Weakness (pick one): Divination
Year (pick two): 3rd, 2nd
Biography:
He sat with his hands in his lap, staring into the wall on the other side. He was clad in a black suit, impeccable, at his neck was a purple tie. He'd cleaned himself in the face, behind his ears, under his nails.
Tomorrow was his birthday, and they were supposed to prepare, but an owl had arrived carrying the seal of Durmstrang and Ephraim knew what it was. As much as there was peace in the Prothero Caste, school was different. For Ephraim was not patient like his brother Harmon, or eloquent like his brother Cephas. Besides, both of them were in their twenties, graduated, and well out of their baby brother's hair.
The reports that Eugene got on Ephraim's attendance at Durmstang usually came through other channels. The Protheros were well connected, to say the least, and his friends were from families as prominent as his own.
But they talked, and the reports came.
And they'd already had their talks, too. He'd already come under his father's gaze, turning his own to look the other way. His insides seemed to always been simmering, boiling with some unresolved tension. His grades were dropping and he'd started fights. And when he hadn't started them first-hand, he'd provoked them into flaring, approaching other students to accuse their families of being lesser, of being muddied up.
Mudblood was a word that sat loose on the lips of Eugene and Florence Prothero's youngest son, even in a place like Durmstrang.
Now Ephraim scowled at the obscure display of taxidermied animals on one side of his father's office. It depicted a large vulture hovering above a group of meercats. His mother had placed a tiny hat on the head of one of them. Despite the distance that they placed between themselves and the rest of the world (for the Protheros were very private), everyone who paid attention would realise the deep care with which the Family moved about each other. Still, and despite that he'd grown up in the middle of it, never lacking in gold or food or warmth, he felt like puking looking at them sometimes - Florence and Eugene - and their strange display of love.
(Then again, Ephraim had not yet arrived at that point where he considered any sort of male-female interaction beyond disgusting.)
When his father appeared in the doorway he was tall, clad in a suit that was almost matching Ephraim's own, extravagantly expensive and expertly taylored. In answer to the Eugene's motion, Ephraim followed, entered. Inside sat his mother on a seat next to the great mahogany desk. To his left was his father's work station for other things, this strange obsession with taxidermy that he'd cultivated since childhood.
The beady, black eyes of a dead phesant stared up at him.
He looked back at it, and felt ill.
Eugene had stepped behind Florence, placing his hands on her shoulders. One of hers came up to take his.
"We think a change of environment might help, so we're sending you to Hogwarts this year," he explained. It was served as a statement, in an authority that was both cold in warm in the way that only Eugene Prothero was able to deliver a message.
The colour drained from Ephraim's face and he sought his mother's eyes for help. It felt as though he was at the reception of a major punishment - no fate worse that being surrounded by peers whose purity was neither displayed on their robes nor otherwise in his control. It helped little that his parents had both graduated from there - Eugene transferring from Durmstrang to join Florence in their fourth year.
His parents, on the other hand, had decided that tightening back on discipline was not the path to take. Durmstrang was stricter, and it was out of love that they decided to cut the reigns and give the boy a chance to learn how to co-exist in a place whose edges were more curved.
For Ephraim, a child that had been highly wanted, deeply loved, after a difficult time in his parents' relationship, he'd become too doted on and too isolated within the innermost circles.
Now, he was about to step right into his worst nightmare.
→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.
Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.
House Request: Ephraim will be deeply offended if he is sorted anywhere but in Slytherin. So, for the sake of his survival, I guess that's the request. (Not Ravenclaw, please.)
Personality:
Ephraim is a typical early teenager. He is the youngest of four siblings from the prestigous and influential family of the Protheros, as headed by his father, Eugene.
Eph takes is a good mix between his mother (a Slytherin), who is more warm, spontaneous and sociable, and his father (a Ravenclaw), who is more meticulous and controlling. The Protheros care deeply about family, which is a pattern into which Ephraim fits, but as the youngest, he is struggling to find his place. He has lately been both rash and outspoken, and tending to act before thinking.
Eph likes: Being rich and influential. Feeling like he is in control. Quidditch, at least when he gets to wield a bat. Gossip. Being social with good friends.
Eph dislikes: Mudbloods. Girls. Dead animals and taxidermy. Anything that resembles puss or blood. And dead people, including ghosts.
He is unafraid to lash out and curse students that he doesn't like. It is possible that Ephraim will mature a little more with age. He does not really have a bad head and has no problem following classes if he only cares for it.
Thankfully, he is not prone to the same sickness as his father was, though he has a weaker stomach, is quite squeamish, and easily grossed out.
Appearance:
In appearance, Ephraim is a good mix of his father and his mother, with dark brown hair, and hazel eyes. At the current moment, he is somewhat under average in size, but he'll eventually have his growth spurt and end up closer to the height of his father (who's around six feet).
Eph moves with confidence and can tend to make himself broader and take up more space than what is strictly necessary. He is unafraid of attention.
→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
Roleplay Response, option 2:
Ephraim had thought that he was outside minding his own business, escaping from the pent-up air of people that could hardly be described as humans. Having had a stroll to the Kitchens, so he wouldn't have to sit in the Great Hall with the others, he had requested a special delivery from the House Elves. Now it sat before him: A pickle sandwich with brie, honey, and turkey ham, the perfect meal before he was off to the Quidditch pitch to find someone to murder.
He gathered it exitedly in his hands and lifted the whole thing to his mouth, when something came propelling through the Castle doors, and his mouth remained agape, eyes staring.
Now, he would never be able to fathom why anyone would ever want a rat as a pet, ugly and ridden with disease as they were. But that was only the tip of the iceberg in this situation. What he'd just witnessed was nothing short of a circus where this clown found himself it the pathetic performance of rummaging through the flowers, and coming out on the other side smearing his insides all over his clothes.
Ephraim stopped in-motion, gagged, felt the taste of sick gathering in his throat.
"Can I help you with something? It is not polite to stare."
"Excuse me?" said Ephraim, and now he was really pissed off.
Placing his sandwich promptly on the bench where he'd been sitting, he jumped down and marched over to the older boy, feeling for the wood of his wand in his pocket.
"You're telling me not to stare while you're secreting all over your arm?"
Who the bloody hell did this guy think that he was?
Ephraim tried to get right into the other's boy's face, but had to step back to keep himself from gagging again. Now that he'd found his wand, he waved it angily about the air. If he wasn't so worked up that he couldn't think of any good spells, he would have hexed the 5th year to oblivion.
He'd lost all apetite, and the danger of him performing murder on the Quidditch pitch had increased significantly.
(If he got his hands on that rat, maybe he'd send it to Eugene - though this was unlikely to get him a ticket back to Durmstrang.)
→ ABOUT YOU.
Please list any characters you have on the site (current and previous): Altair, Vincent Vega, Eugene Prothero, Samael Gray, Nic Viggano & friends.
How did you find us?: In my dreams.
Karina Ivansko:
Dear Mr. Prothero,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Term begins on 1 January. Currently, students have gathered at Camp Loki, and we encourage you to spend your summer there. Should you choose, you may also visit our Elsewhere board via the Floo Network to visit or purchase school supplies.
Yours sincerely,
Karina Ivansko
Headmistress
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