Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

Name: Ivy Pembrooke

House Request: Slytherin. Ivy is your typical Slytherin, smart, ambitious and cunning. However there is a deeper side to her. People seem to depict Slytherins as a certain stereotype. Mean, vengeful and popular. In a nut shell, that’s Ivy, but only because she has to be, only because she needs to be. Pureblood, rich and high in status.

Year: 3 or 4
Bloodline: Pureblood

Magical Strength: Charms

Magical Weakness: Divination


Biography: Ivy loved the rain. She loved the sound of little droplets of water hitting a tin roof. Why did she like the rain? Well, perhaps it added to the melancholy of her life. Windy nights was something she couldn't stand. For one, they were scary and two..her mother was murdered on a night like that. Killed right before her eyes, the little girl hid under the bed until the bad man left. The memory haunts Ivy every night of her life, every time she closes her eyes and drifts off to sleep.
Ivy and her father attended the funeral. Two figures stood in a field of swaying grass, looking down on the grave before them. Black locks of hair covered the little girls bright green eyes. She didn't cry, just stood there and watched her mother's coffin being lowered into the ground.
She didn't speak for weeks.
Ivy is like a turtle. Not in the sense that she's slow or shy and only pokes her head out when the coast is clear, but without her hard outer shell, she'd be completely exposed, and vulnerable, and that scares her. She'd never let anyone too close to her, knowing she'd get hurt in the end.=
Remember those kids that wouldn't say anything, got really good grades, usually vanished for hours on end and then one day have a total melt down? Yeah, that's Ivy.
Ivy is much an outcast as the next loner. Only seeking company by those who have earnt her trust, the numbers are scarce.
Lies. Lies are the only thing that fuels her existence, with secrets being the feeble structure which her life was built upon. Frequently lying, where she's been, who she's been talking too..
She loves beasts, creatures, things that lurk in the dark. Someone caught her once, talking to a Thestral, they thought she was crazy, not crazy, they just hadn’t seen death with their own eyes. Most people think their weird and scary, not Ivy. No. She likes them.
Living her life like a ghost, hardly there at all. Always in her own world, a better world. Reality pains her like a hot knife in her heart, but still, she survives. She survives because she's stronger then what people think. She doesn't want to be the girl who tried so hard and finally gave up. No, she want's to be the girl who kept trying and never gave up, and one day, succeeded. She will be that girl.
But the question is does she still have a heart? Does she have any morals? Ivy don't think so.


Role-play Sample:
"Some say it's a delicacy, but others think it's plain gross" Came a voice behind her. Ivy had been in deep thought until then. She spun on her heels to meet the person, her eyes scanned up and down, head to toe. What a dag. Frogs legs did she say? The girl continued to look at her, those eyes boring into her soul as she waited for Ivy's answer. Who was this child? "I think if you don't disperse, I'm NOT going to be a happy chappie. Comprendo?" Finally Ivy responded. Clearly having upset the girl in one way or another, Ivy gave a small smirk and walked off in the opposite direction.
"Besides my opinion won't change anything, I'm indifferent to the subject of the matter." Ivy added softly as she walked down the long empty corridor.
As Ivy reached her dormitory she let out a long sigh.
Tapping her foot impatiently Ivy moved her fingers across the smooth pages of a calendar which hung above her side draw. "March.."
It had been three months since she had last heard from John, her father. Ivy feared the worst.

"Kale.." Ivy batted away the cat from her letters. Bloody thing better not have ripped them. The noise of springs squeaking sounded as Ivy flopped onto her bed. Her cat purred deeply as her tail flicked about carelessly.
What a sad excuse for a weekend.