Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

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→ CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Name: Caius Theodosius Ellwood-Luxe

Birthday: 3rd January, 1957

Hometown: London, England; Pembrey Forest, Wales

Bloodline: Pureblood

Magical Strength (pick one): Charms

Magical Weakness (pick one): C&S

Year (pick two): fifth, fourth

Biography:



His father’s life, Caius knew, had been marked by violence and upheaval. Jude Ellwood-Luxe had experienced the war from the diminutive perspective of a child, seen it claim his own father, watched it wither his mother. Caius knew of the suffering done during that time, the hunger, the blood, the strife. He knew the weight his name carried as a result.

Perhaps he would have shed it if he could. It was something of a burden, a cart before a horse, a token that begged assumptions. It was a stark thing, his name. It offered up visions of aged wooden halls, windblown seaside cliffs, sharp rocks in the far-down surf.

But Caius felt no connection to the sea. It was too vast, with nothing to clutch, an endless expanse of flat blues and grays. The breadth of the sky at sea was a thing of his nightmares: the sky the same circumference as the water, two intangible discs pressing endlessly against one another– and the self, a horrible floating thing, tethered to neither. The sea was cold, and ruthless, and unforgiving.

His earliest memories had the woods close at hand, teeming with life and sound, wind shifting each corner’s corner. Insects, animals, omnipresent signs of life. He had taught himself to climb trees at a tender age, calculating his linear path upward from the base of it beforehand, no thought given to the harshness of the bark on his hands. His palms were calloused, knees knobby and rough. He perched high in the alder or in the oak, where he could see everything, and everything couldn’t see him.

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Caius had never himself known violence. What he knew about it came from books and stories, terse testimony from uncles and aunts and much older cousins; never his father.

His father wore their name like a military jacket. He bore it starched and clipped, as though to hold on to the shape it once had been but now couldn’t muster, years of wear softening its edges despite any best effort. A colonel whose best days had faded in the throes of peacetime. He had never been one for excessive sentiment– that was women’s work, the concern of nursemaids, governesses, and mothers– and to Caius he resembled little more than a wall he occasionally railed against, charging at and bouncing off of the immovable force of his father’s will.

It was women’s work that caught him on the way back down, his mother and her softness culling worry and offering sweetness where the bitterness

When Caius was nine, his mother took ill. When he was ten, she succumbed.

Her funeral was short, the cluster of black umbrellas like a brief thundercloud over her gravesite as Caius tossed the dirt onto her casket six feet below. The governess led him away after that; his father had already gone.

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“Give me that,” his cousin was saying. Jack was a tall boy with discerning eyes and sharp teeth, and he loomed just a little as he stood over Caius in the study, one hand palm down on the arm of the chair Caius occupied.

Caius had blinked at him. It was a book he’d found in the manor’s library, some thin work of literature that Caius had lifted purely for something to look at.

“No,” he said.

”No,” Jack repeated, mocking. He leaned down further. “You’ll do as I say or I’ll spit in your dinner again. The servants do as I tell them.”

“I said, n–”

But Jack rarely needed an excuse to do as he pleased; he was seldom held back by paltry things like impulse control. He snatched it from Caius’ hands and turned, shifting his weight, and flipped through it.

Caius did not hesitate. He stood and snatched it right back, scowling, and made to leave the room through the door to the hall. He thought he’d made it one or two paces before the blow he expected came: two hands pushed him hard at the shoulderblades, and Caius caught himself in the stumble that came next, turning on his toes and swinging the book up in a singular arc. It connected, corner-first, at the base of his cousin’s jaw. Jack’s hand flew up to cup his face, the shock played out across it as the punch Caius threw with his opposite fist found its mark on Jack’s bare cheek.

His cousin stumbled against the chair and fell onto the rug, hissing in pain. Caius stood over him for a moment, then turned, stalked across the study and out into the hall. He made sure to close the door behind him, silencing any rebuttal his cousin might have mustered.

He’d find somewhere else to read, he supposed. He'd deal with the consequences later, after he'd finished his book.


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

House Request: sort me!

Personality:

Rather used to being either on his own or in the company of those he'd rather not, Caius is very adept at tuning out or otherwise silencing the world around him. He is not a timid boy, but neither is he brash. He lacks pride, but does not suffer from underconfidence. Predominantly, Caius thinks of himself as a person who has not yet come upon what he is meant for, and this has shaped a boy who has the quality of one who has been waiting a long time for something, though he isn't very sure what. Despite this stillness of self, Caius can't help but stand up for those he deems underdogs, and has a surprisingly spirited sense of when injustice is being done.

Appearance:

Caius has the requisite dark hair and eyes that many of his family members have, though he has often been told he resembles his mother. He is somewhat spindly, having recently attained a good amount of height in a rather short amount of time. Observant, quiet, and rather humorless, Caius is often overlooked for being unassuming. Whether this is an oversight on the part of others is, to him, yet unclear.

→ SAMPLE ROLEPLAY.

Roleplay Response:

He could not think of a reason why he had ended up in the dungeons as he had, with a castle as huge as this. Of all the places he might have made a wrong turn, he wished it was not on the way to Potions. It was stuffy and damp, and Caius did not want to put his bag down, himself down, on any surface, lest it be contaminated with whatever sludge grew in the corners of this place.

Caius wore a sour expression as he stood stiffly in the center of the corridor, consulting the parchment that contained his courselist and directions to his classrooms. The words danced around on the page and he huffed, stuffing it back in his bag.

He had almost resolved to begin walking in any direction, just to create progress where none had been a moment before, when a shaking little voice sounded out from down the way.

"Hello! Is Emma Birch here?"

Staring down the hallway, Caius found himself letting out a sigh. Whoever it was, she was very small, and a Gryffindor: all he could assume was that she was down here in the bowels of the dungeon in an attempt to appease some upperclassman's idea of a prank.

He began to walk forward, trying to make sure he saw her before he spoke. He did not want to startle her.

"There's no Emma," Caius told her, coming up to her position. He felt tired. "Are you lost?"

→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have  on the site (current and previous): dacian ellwood-luxe, cassius ellwood-luxe, anneliesse sauveterre.... uhhh et al

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