Application for Hogwarts School
→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.Name: Wolf Märchen
Birthday: 30 Oct, 1931
Hometown: Black Forest - Baden-Württemberg, Germany (originated)
Swansea, Wales (migrated, c. 1938)
Bloodline:Halfblood
Magical Strength (pick one):Transfiguration
Magical Weakness (pick one):Conjuring & Summoning
Year (pick two): 6th or 7th
Biography:Once upon a time, there was a boy who was born under a ghastly, cursed moon. And, unsuited for beautiful words, his story wrote itself in language primordial: bruised knuckles, wooden splinters and bleached bone, the delicate veils torn from ladybug wings, fragile things crushed beneath the heel of his hand.
(Curb it, she tells him, That beast inside you, that you let walk in your skin.)
Toothsome dreams, with big, beguiling eyes and pliant skin. Prayers for solace, all for naught. He burned. He hungered. He was doomed, to a frenzied nature unfurling slowly across the years in one long, ragged howl; a lacerating war cry. The boy reveled in this savagery. And dreamed of savage revelation.
(Whose afraid, whose afraid? I’m not, she says.)
This boy, untamed though he remained, did learn. Aconite, belladonna, and cicuta made for an early alphabet, alongside digitalis, elderberry and flaxseed. Root and stem by rote, worked deep as the dirt beneath his fingernails. Wood paths long wandered, and all the secret ways down which one might stray. The boy walked with the wild. He hunted.
(You're a liar, she declares. Words heavy as stones in his empty belly, that hunger. But I'm not frightened of you.)
The ways of men, as the tales tell us, are the most beastly of all, for they're the only creatures whose dreams birth monsters and terrible myth. This, the boy never needed to be taught. And other children, those trespassers who he could not frighten, he fought. But from what cannot be fought one must flee, and so the boy crossed an ocean from the feral forest where he lived, to the shores of Swansea.
(Cry wolf, he taunts, And see what happens. The line of trees recede, planes drone overhead.
Wolf, she says. And smiles.)
Wolf Märchen was born the only son of Éponine & Drake Märchen, who made their home in the secluded wilds of Germany's Black Forest. On the border of Germany and France, these gifted herbalists avoided the increasing turmoil of Muggle politics — as well as most of their neighbors, either of Muggle or Wizarding descent. A small, secluded but nonetheless happy family, Wolf's childhood companions numbered mainly his cousins: Red Märchen, whose family also resided in Germany, as well as Briar & Rose Märchen, who would occasionally visit from their home in Britain.
With the outbreak of war looming, and the power of the Hexenreich rising, the troublesome Wolf (already given to unfortunate scrapes with local playmates) and docile Red were shepherded to the safe-keeping of their extended family.
Upon arrival in Wales, it was there the remainder of his childhood would pass, as it was decided several years of homeschooling would be necessary to aid in the boy's acclimation to Britain. This process involved its customary number of mishaps, tribulations, and mischief alongside Red and their new companion, Swan Märchen. While little loyalty to his homeland remains, the thorns of his nature were less carefully pruned, and Wolf remains instinctively distrustful of most new acquaintances.
→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.House Request: Gryffindor or
RavenclawPersonality: A boy in beast's clothing — which, depending on whom you ask, are relatively the same things. Solitary by nature, yet naturally prone to go sniffing out trouble. Nor above beguiling the sheep he seeks, or being an equal victim to errors born of his own brash and bristling bravado.
For even wily wolves may be led astray.
→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.Please reply to one of the Sample Roleplays below.Breakfast was a morning interlude measured by as long he could stand being under a fake sky. Which was to say, an altogether short one.
With a pilfered pasty in hand, Wolf had slipped from the Great Hall. Sleep was shaken off easier than restlessness, and so he'd gone wondering – unmindful of nosy teachers or a number of pointed, painterly stares from the portraits along the walls. For the latter, this wasn't quite true; he replied in kind with the most obnoxious leer he could compose this early in the morning, and took particular pleasure in the crumbs he left on the floor.
This was a habitual irreverence, lasting as long as it took him to get out the doors. Beyond them, the morning narrowed once again: less magical so much a matter of marrow running in ferine tides, which always lead him to the same unlikely place. Outside the castle walls he would, begrudgingly, indulge in an appreciation of magic – if only the sort found in flowering buds and the thorns of strange plants. An acquiesce made only, perhaps, by the solitary fact that there was no one else to see.
Because this morning of mornings, Wolf had two things: company – and the conclusion that there was absolutely nothing magical about it.
"Can I help you with something?"He gave the boy a look as dirty as his silt-stained hands, which made sharp gestures towards the trampled flowers.
"It is not polite to stare."The gesture was shortly emphasized by a rather rude sound of derision. His hostile stare never unfixed from Hugh, but from a corner of his eye he spied one of the broken flowers on the soil near his foot. With a deft movement, Wolf hooked the toe of one shoe under it and kicked it the boy's direction.
"Quit being so snotty."
Teeth flashed in a strange twist of scowl and smirk. Dusting his dirty hands on his pants, his head tilted to an angle encompassing the ruined row of flora. It was possible to interpret faint admiration in the raise of his brows.
"... what were you even doing?"
→ ABOUT YOU.Please list any characters you have on the site (current and previous): Felix Oliveroot-Leontine, Azrael Nonpareil, Nikolaus Kinsinger, Deimos Straka
How did you find us?: A little bird.
