Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Moira Withersnap
Gender: Female
Age: 26
Blood Status: Pureblood

Education: 
Hogwarts; Ravenclaw; Class of 1939
Ministry of Magic, Wizengamot Admin Training Program, completed 1948

Residence:
Wizarding London

Occupation
Clerical Aide, Wizengamot Administration Services

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?
The Ministry of Magic

Requested Magic Levels:
Adult characters have 32 starting levels to distribute across these four categories (less levels can be used if you so desire, but no more than 32). The number of levels on the lowest ability must be at least half of the highest ability.

If you want levels above the usual 32 total, or a significantly uneven distribution of starting levels, please fill out and submit the Special Request form here.

• Charms: 7
• Divination: 8
• Transfiguration: 8
• Summoning: 9

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
No

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Charlotte Marin

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Growing up the eldest and only daughter of five children in a respectable pureblood family had a number of effects on Moira. Namely, she was a witch sure of the world, and exactly how she fit into it. In her childhood, she had been the shadow of her mother and the apple of her father’s eye, while her brothers were often loath to find themselves her wards. Her father, a celebrated Obliviator with a distaste for Muggles, and her mother, a stage actress and socialite, gave Moira a childhood rife with privilege and opportunity, and she intended to take full advantage.

In her younger years, her mother took her everywhere, and Moira spent hours upon hours at playhouses watching her prepare and perform. Her mother was a beauty, radiant and talented in her acting. Moira would be there each evening of a performance, watching the woman transfigure herself into whatever character she’d be portraying. She was fascinated by the charms and tricks that created the grand illusions of a play. Moira herself acted in several performances when they called for a child's minor role. She was taught to dance, sing and speak with authority. She was taught to put forth whatever veneer would garner the reaction she desired. And so, when she went off to Hogwarts at age eleven, her parents fully expected her to follow in the artistic footsteps as a performer.

It was, however, her father’s position that the young girl admired most. She wanted the respect she saw people give him, the awe in their eyes as he strode proud through the halls of the Ministry. She wanted to make an impression on people for the pure, assured power she held, not the vain respect for a character she played. So during her years as a Ravenclaw at Hogwarts, she carefully crafted her own reputation, garnering the favor of her professors and amassing the notoriety she’d need to jump start whatever career she chose.

Breaking into the ranks of the Ministry turned out harder than she’d anticipated, though. While she’d been able to immediately acquire a training position within the Wizengamot Administration Services office, it took Moira eight years to turn it into a full-time position. Envy boiled over as her younger brothers each graduated and found their professional places with far less hardship, especially the oldest, Walter. He managed to complete his training program at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office in only two years unabashedly riding the coattails of his father’s prestige. Still, Moira pushed herself, despite her nagging jealousy, determined to define who she was by her achievements in the Ministry, just like her father.

But society and her family had different ideas. She was a woman, expected to find a husband and raise a family, not pursue a rigorous career. Her mother was especially fond of reminding her to do this. Having installed herself into a semi-autonomous lifestyle in the midst of Wizarding London, Moira became the subject of a slew of blind dates and match-making attempts, the beginnings of a chaotic social life that would eat every spare moment she did not dedicate to her own advancement. As she had no intention of actually starting a family any time soon, most of these events were merely to please her mother, and often she saw the various young men on only one occasion. Through it all, Moira kept her head high and her vision unclouded, resolute in her decision to establish herself as her very own witch, and absolutely sure of how to do it.

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:
Merlin, she was late! An eleventh hour “family supper” at her parent’s house had turned into yet another attempt by her family to shove some sod off onto her. Or maybe it was the other way around, and she was the one being pushed off onto the sod. Whichever, the whole night had ruined her mood, turning a somewhat productive day to a night of ill sleep that translated into a weary morning. She simply hadn’t found the motivation to pull herself out of her bed until the very last moment. And now she was late.

Moira prided herself on her dedication to work, and punctuality was a part of that. She would not have her reputation tarnished for some man she did NOT care to marry. So she was running (well, trotting), her practiced feet sliding over the cobblestones in heels many might consider dangerous. Every woman sure of where she was going in the world should have enough practice to get there in heels and good time. So when the young professional heard the call “Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!” and saw the woman spilled all over the ground, Moira did what any girl held back by the less capable of her sex would do: she rolled her eyes before putting on a placid smile.

”Here, let me get you,” she said, her voice all confident authority. With one hand under the woman’s elbow, and the other grasping firmly to her shoulder, Moira helped her to stand. She then grabbed the shoe with sure strength and wrenched it from its lodged position.

“These things are such a curse, aren’t they?” she said amicably, all the while hating this person in front of her for making every woman seem impractical with their shoes, and their make-up, and their routines of vanity that were actually some of the only opportunities to advance. “Aren’t they all better off staying home with the children?” Walter had once said when the topic came up.

But Moira swallowed all that negative emotion, ate it with her bright, friendly grin. She didn’t have time to linger, and so swiftly returned the woman’s shoe (surely she could repair it on her own), hoping to be back off into the crowd quickly. At least the reporter wasn't flailing in the street any longer, giving women everywhere even more of a bad name.

OTHER
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