Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

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→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Hekate Amythest Undergrove

Birthday: 11 (21 April 1952)

Hometown: Longcross, Surrey, UK

Bloodline:
Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one):
Transfiguration

Magical Weakness (pick one):
Conjuring & Summoning

Year (pick two): First, second

Biography:

hello misses headmistress
my name is hekate but you can call me hekky and im righting to you cause my letters late and i want to learn magic like all my famly
mum and dad said its coming any day now and before i no it but its been at least a hundred days and i still didnt get it so im wondring if you could make the day that i get the letter today or tomorrow or maybe yesterday please
i no righting is hard and hurts your fingers if you do it to much but please dont forget me please
i am real good at stuff and will be good at your scool all the time i promise
i like things like horses and dragons and playing with my friends and you can ask misses simpson whos my teecher now how good i am at learning things and how i am always be quiet during quiet time and everything
love hekky

ps dont tell mum and dad that i righted this letter cause they said not to thanks and you can keep the drawing i did on the back its a presant so you like me

Hekky hasn't made a bunch of friends yet. There isn't much chance. Mum and dad want her being all smart for when school starts. Hekky should have every advantage they can saddle her with. Advantages sure get heavy. Sometimes Hekky's whole body hurts from the advantages she has to do every day.

In her spare time, Hekky practices the habits that mum and dad say all little ladies should know. Drawing and reading are her special favourites but she can muddle through horseriding and broomriding and sewing and numbers and all the rest. On her birthday, dad says he'll take her too see a dragon.

Her birthday isn't yet. Mum says it's 'some time away', but Hekky doesn't know how long a some is yet. She keeps losing count of days and then the some goes back to the start, she thinks. Every time she asks, it's still some time.

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.
Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.

House Request: Ravenclaw, Gryffindor

Personality:
Motivated by the people around her. Likes nothing better than listening to someone gush about their weird interests. Loves knowing that something she did made someone else's day better. Enjoys stories - telling, listening, writing, reading, or making. Just as happy with made up tale as a true one.

Appearance:
A bit unconcerned with appearances. Dresses are familiar and comfortable, and dad buys all her clothes so she wouldn't have much of a choice anyway.
Dark hair in very unmanagable curls that are getting harder to manage as she grows.
Skidded knees are common.

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.

Option 2:

That rat of his was in for it now.

The gray little rascal had disappeared from his clutches at breakfast. Again.

Before Hugh even knew what was happening, Merlin had shot across the floor, somehow managing to avoid all the feet walking across the hall and had escaped through the open doors.

Which meant that Hugh was now stomping through rows of flowers and other various flora, searching for the small creature. It was like the rat knew Hugh was allergic to most flowers. Merlin always chose to run to the gardens whenever he got away from Hugh. It was as if the rat did not want to have him for an owner.

Hugh had named his pet Merlin because he had hoped the powerful name would give the rat more incentive to be more than a rat. Not that he expected Merlin to change into a wizard or anything, but rats were just so...useless, for the most part. With a name like Merlin, Hugh thought it might give the rat purpose.

The only purpose Merlin seemed to have was getting away from Hugh as often as possible.

As the fifth year trudged into the second row of flowers, not taking much care to avoid trampling the first row, he felt the first sneeze building up pressure in his nose and behind his eyes.

"You blasted rat! Where are you?"

He pulled apart a section of bright red flowers; he didn't know what they were called because he despised flowers, and ducked his head low to peer into the depths of the flowerbed. It was moving closer in proximity to the flowers that finally did it. Hugh took in three great breaths and then let out an almighty sneeze. It was strong enough to disturb some of the dirt on the ground before him.

Groaning, he stood up again and wiped his nose on his sleeve. It was as he was turning his head, his nose running up and down his arm, that movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Normally one who preferred to put his best face forward, Hugh was a bit embarrassed to be caught wiping his runny nose on his robes.

Nevertheless, Hugh put on his best haughty voice. albeit a bit thickly with his plugged nose and said, "Can I help you with something? It is not polite to stare."

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The one-kid-stampede crushed flowers and stomped about in a flurry of chaos. Hek flitted her attention between the scene and the words of the letter between her fingers. The advantage, of course, was that she could make believe that she wasn't spying (if anyone asked) or make believe that she was spying (to play spy). The boy's adventure carried on and Hekate, to the detriment of her parents' words, spied on.

He might have been crying, which made the whole thing very exciting. What had the flowers done, what aspect of his life had they worsened, that the upper year felt the need for reprisal? The possibilities flowed through her unendingly until her hand lowered, the letter rested in her lap, and Hekate gawked openly at the scene. The boy did this trick that Hekate told herself to remember (but definitely wouldn't); he hid his tears behind big, fake sneezes.

"Can I help you with something? It is not polite to stare."

He'd have been less successful at reminding Hekate of her place if he'd shaken her by the shoulders.

"No! I - Duzznt - Um -"

Her words stuck to her teeth and refused to pass her lips. Probably for the best; words live in the mouth and it wasn't Hek's decision that they should go out without their consent. She'd have to wait until they were ready to go all on their own.

She couldn't even lift the letter back up and play pretend at not being a spy.

"Sorry." Her cheeks pinked and her knees wobbled. She'd caught the boy wet-faced and he knew it. Crying was special and private; she had no right to peek at his rampage. "Can- Can I help with the flower smashing?"

→ ABOUT YOU.

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