Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

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→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Angelique "Angel" Malvaux

Birthday: March 22, 1957

Hometown: Montsorcier, France

Bloodline:  Halfblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Transfiguration

Magical Weakness (pick one): Divination

Year (pick two): 5th, 4th

Biography:

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“Papa!” Angel squealed, her voice bright with laughter as she leapt onto his back, clinging to him like her life depended on it. Her small hands, sticky from stolen apple slices, reached eagerly for the quaffle he playfully held out of her reach.

She felt the rumble of his laughter vibrate through her belly, a warm sound that made her giggle even harder. With a theatrical yell, her father collapsed (or rather, lowered himself carefully) to the ground, his face flushed red.

The ball rolled away, and Angel scrambled after it, her heart drumming in her ears. The grass, still dewy from the morning rain, painted green streaks across her dress, but she didn’t care. A wide, toothy grin split her face as she finally caught the red ball. “J’ai gagné!” she shouted triumphantly.

Angel hugged the ball to her chest, securing her victory. “Maman!” she called, waving the ball in the air. Her mother, her apron dusted with orange and fragrant spices, peeked out from the cottage door.

Unlike Papa, always bursting with energy, Maman was gentle, her touches soft and her voice as soothing as honey. Angel knew she was proud when the corners of her eyes crinkled and a warm smile played on her lips.

“Good job, mon ange.” Maman’s eyes flicked to Angel’s grass-stained dress, but said nothing about it. “Dinner is ready. Go get your brother.”

At the mere mention of food, Angel’s stomach growled loudly. Without hesitation, she dropped the ball and dashed off to find Elian.

It was their birthday.

Her running slowed when she spotted that familiar – identical – mop of dark curls, not alone but with a tiny creature nestled in his lap. A very common occurrence. “Psst!” Angel dropped to her knees and crawled closer, attempting (unsuccessfully) to be quiet. She bumped her head gently against Elian’s back, peeking over his shoulder.

The spiky hedgehog blinked up at her, its small face undeniably cute. “I’m hungry,” she whispered loudly, the rich scent of stew and sweet cinnamon tarte filling her senses. “Can you bring him?” Everyone needed to be included.

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Laughing was better than crying. At least, that’s what she told herself. Laughter could fill the hollow spaces where the sadness lingered, and could cover the ache with its bright, ringing sound. But her laughter was brittle now, like glass, threatening to shatter at the slightest touch.

Her eyes, rimmed red, held back the storm that raged just beneath the surface. She could feel the way people looked at her, waiting for the moment she would finally break, expecting the inevitable collapse. But she hated it—the worrying, the fussing, the constant barrage of “Are you okay?”

No. She wasn’t okay.

But when she smiled, the questions stopped. When she joked, left the house, and eased her way back to her friends, they stopped worrying. It was easier that way, easier to bear their silence than their concern.

But her brother. Her sweet, innocent brother was made of sunlight and wildflowers. She could see the weight of what happened shroud him in gray, how it crushed his slight shoulders.

“Que fait-on maintenant, sissi?” His voice trembled with the uncertainty.

Her chest broke open at the sound of his question, and inside was a void so deep, she couldn’t remember what it felt like to be whole. She didn’t know what to do. She missed Maman’s lips brushing her forehead as she fell asleep. She missed the strength of Papa’s arms around her, squeezing her until she couldn’t breathe and had to squirm away.

Angel swallowed hard, her teeth snapped together as her jaw clenched. The ache was unbearable, a pain that pulsed with every beat of her heart, but she had to give him something—anything—to hold onto.

“On ne se lâche pas,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but steady. It was the only thing she knew for certain, the only truth she could offer. They would be starting Beauxbatons this year and it would be just the two of them. She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. It was larger than hers and warm, and she held on as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. Because in a way, it was.

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Grandad’s new job took them away from the vibrant streets of Paris to the quiet, cobbled lanes of Hogsmeade, a village that felt like it had been plucked from the pages of a fairy tale.

Angel couldn’t help but see shades of their little cottage—Le Gîte du Soleil—in their new home. The meadow of wildfires outside the window, and the kitchen that was too small for everyone to huddle in at once, yet that never stopped them from trying. But despite the similarities, there was a stark, glaring absence that would never be filled. A pang of grief ripped through her chest, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Still, it was a chance at a new beginning, a place filled with promise and the hope of change.

Angel had lingered too long in the robe shop, her fingers trailing over rich fabrics as she lost herself in conversation with the clerk. Angel liked people, liked the warmth of their attention and the comfort of belonging.

But her brother, on the other hand.

Others did not understand him, not like she did.

She found Elian slumped against a cold brick wall just a block away, his cheek reddened and eyes downcast. The sight of him, so defeated, ignited a fire in Angel’s chest, burning away any trace of hesitation. Teeth bared in a snarl, Angel charged toward him and barrelled into the first boy she saw. She felt the impact, the shock of its reverberating up her arms, but she didn’t care. Out came her wand, gripped tightly in her hand.

Angel didn’t hesitate—not for a second.

They needed to understand, just like those at Beauxbaton's had. She would carve the lesson into their bones if she had to: no one messed with her brother.

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J’ai gagné = I won
mon ange = my angel
Que fait-on maintenant, sissi? = What do we do now
On ne se lâche pas = We don’t let go of each other
Le Gîte du Soleil = The Sun Cottage



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

House Request: Gryffindor

Personality:
Outgoing and vivacious, Angel thrives in social settings, and finds comfort in making connections. However, those connections can be very surface-level at first; you have to break through the first layer of her defenses to see more. Sadness is an emotion she detests and will distract herself with anything to not feel it anymore. Angel is fiercely loyal and protective, especially when it comes to her twin brother, Elian. She is unafraid to stand up for what she believes in and will go to great lengths to protect the people she cares about.

Appearance:
A mix of her parents and essentially a female version of her twin, Elian. Tall for her age with long, slender limbs. Definitely not as graceful as her brother, but she makes up for it with confidence. Has a mess of dark brown curls that frame her face and end at her shoulders. Hazel eyes – bright, usually squinty from smiling. Loves fashion and new trends and especially the colour pink.

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.
You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character. Remember, you can only roleplay your own character's actions, not Evangeline's or Hugh's.

Option I:

The dungeons. A place eleven-year-old Evangeline had not yet travelled since her arrival at Hogwarts.

A place she really was just fine with not knowing; but it was too late. The dare had been accepted, even if it had been done in fear of being kicked out of Gryffindor, like the older girls had said she would because Gryffindors were supposed to be brave.

The air changed instantly when she hit the main corridor of the dungeons. The dampness was almost too much for her and she instinctively took a deep breath to avoid the sensation of being suffocated. There was also a sour burning smell which Evangeline assumed was from many, many Potions lessons.

Further and further she walked, her steps so slow and gentle they made no noise against the stone walls and floor. The feeling that she wasn't alone crept up her spine and raised the tiny hair on the back of her neck. Shivering, Evangeline wrapped her arms around herself. Suddenly, she missed the warmth and comfort of the Gryffindor common room. The fire was always going and it made her feel at ease.

Why had she let those girls talk her into this? She was only eleven, she didn't have to be brave. Surely the Headmistress would not kick her out of Hogwarts for not being brave.

If only she had these thoughts while being dared to search for the ghost of one Emma Birch, whom supposedly haunted the dungeons. It was not, Evangeline had learned, the place where the sixteen-year-old girl's life had ended but as she had been from the house with a snake as its mascot, it was the place her spirit had returned to. That common room was down here somewhere, she'd been told.

Something - the small blonde girl wasn't quite sure what - but something made her stop in her tracks suddenly. There was a low, dull thumping noise. Or maybe that was her heart beating so loudly she thought it was coming from outside her body.

"H-h-hello?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Remembering that she was supposed to be brave, Evangeline tried again.

"Hello! Is Emma Birch here?"

The sound of her own words bouncing back at her off the walls made her jump.


Roleplay Response:
The damp chill of the dungeons clung to Angel’s skin as she ventured deeper into the shadowy corridors. The walls, slick with moisture, seemed to amplify the sound of her footsteps. “Lumos,” she whispered, the tip of her wand glowed to life, casting a soft white light in front of her.

Angel had heard there was a pool somewhere down here and she had to find it. Not because she was dying to take a dip in water that, if anything like her current surroundings, was likely freezing and filled with algae, but because it sounded like a better use of her time than re-reading the same Herbology page over and over in the library.

(Elian would scrunch his face at her reluctance on the subject.)

”Hello! Is Emma Birch here?”

Angel jumped, nearly dropping her wand. The light flickered wildly as she whipped around, eyes wide, to find the source of the sudden voice. It took her a moment to spot the figure, a younger student standing hesitantly a few feet away, half-hidden in the shadows.

“What are you doing sneaking around like that?” Angel exclaimed, her voice a mix of surprise and amusement. Only whoever this was looked less than enthused to be down here, shivering with her arms wrapped around herself. Angel softened immediately. “It’s alright,” she said gently, lowering her wand so the light wasn’t so harsh.

Her eyes darted around her, half expecting another young girl to jump out from the shadows. Alas, no Emma.

Angel refocused her attention back to the one in front of her. “I’m Angel, by the way. I’m afraid I have no idea who Emma Birch is, or where she is. But if you want, I can help you look for her.”


→ ABOUT YOU.

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