Hogwarts School: A Harry Potter RPG

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Dominic Damian Davies
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Blood Status: Muggleborn

Education: 
Hogwarts - Hufflepuff Alumni

Residence:
London, England

Occupation: Triage & Emergency Ward Healer

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the Ministry, Shrieking Shack) or to take over an existing shop in need of new management?
No - Will sign-up for St. Mungo’s

Requested Magic Levels:
Adult characters have 32 starting levels to distribute across these four categories (less levels can be used if you so desire, but no more than 32). The number of levels on the lowest ability must be at least half of the highest ability.

If you want levels above the usual 32 total, or a significantly uneven distribution of starting levels, please fill out and submit the Exceptional Levels special request form here.

• Charms: 9
• Divination: 7
• Transfiguration: 9
• Summoning: 7

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
Nope!

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Dienne Orellana, the Benjamin Orellanas, Hollis Thornton, Sierra Jalson, Florence Olivewood, Wyatt McCormick

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
Wouldn’t you like to know about Dominic Damian Davies?  Yeah, bet you would.  Dom’s been a pretty normal guy all of his life.  He grew up in Camden Town, also known as Camden, raised by his single mum and really pissy grandpas.  Dom was a lively, rambunctious kid, raiding the market stalls, racing in the streets, doing all the sorts of good, wholesome, kind of wildly concerning things a kid his age would get up to.  Sure, he didn’t have a dad, but that was alright.  He had one grandpa who chain smoked like he was still in his twenties and taught Dom all sorts of conspiracies about the legal system and the neighborhood association being The Enemy.  He had another grandpa who couldn’t stand the other one and yet managed to resist the urge to poison Grandpa One on the daily with his wonderful meals and even more wonderful nagging and lecturing that always, without fail, lulled Dominic into a peaceful, peaceful sleep.  His mum meant the world to him growing up.  She worked endlessly and always had the energy to box his ears when he mouthed off and tell him to stop being a cheeky blighted.  Despite his mad ways, despite his tendency to get into trouble (He learned his local officer’s name and family life really closely!  Shout out to Josh! Hope the family’s swell, man!), and despite some crazy, unexplainable accidents happening, his mum loved him and he loved her.

And guess what?

(No, she’s not dead.  Yeesh, dark backstory much?)

Ms. Not-Davies—because no, she was not keeping her ex husband’s last name! yuck—still lives in the tight two story town home Dom grew up in with his aging grandfathers.  He visits them often, usually on Sundays or his off days, to get the weekly earful that he’ll never get a wife with his poor attitude and if only he folded his laundry every once in a while…!

But never mind that.  You wanted to know about Dominic, not his family.  Step aside, background characters, because the main has arrived.

When the wizard arrived to tell the very skeptical Davies and Not Davies that Dominic Damian Davies (really unfortunate name, that) was a wizard, they all nearly laughed him off their front porch.  A wizard?  Please, this wasn’t Camelot!  It took several days to convince the adults that the explosions and sleight of hand from the young Dominic were in fact signs of actual magic.  Chain Smoking Suspicious Grandpa was all about conspiracy theories and “I knew it!” from Day One of visiting Diagon Alley.  Grandpa Two and Mum were much more even keeled—“Your textbooks are how much?!”—while Dom had been utterly thrilled.  He was a wizard!  He could make things levitate, control minds, raise undead armies!  The options were endless!

Cut to his time in Hogwarts.  Man, what a letdown and what a thrill, all at the same time.  He’d been sorted into Hufflepuff—“I’m a puff what?”—and carried on seven years at Hogwarts becoming notoriously average.  Muggleborn, lowest on the imaginary totem pole, check.  Hostile about it and willing to throat check anyone stupid enough to insult him about it?  Check.  Procrastinator?  Check.  Shit grades?  Check.  Great personality and energy that still nabbed him some cute girlfriends, experiences, and an all around wholesome Hogwarts life in spite of his utter averageness?  Check, check, check!

The one greatest thing about Dom has been his ability to adapt.  The man thrives on change, hates to be bored, and is willing to try his hand at pretty much anything!  After graduating from Hogwarts, he landed a gig as a volunteer at St Mungo’s.  He worked various part time gigs while trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life in his late teens.  It wasn’t until he rotated into the Emergency & Triage Ward that he discovered his true gifts.  Helping people, for one, and thriving in a chaotic, fulfilling environment, for another.

He’d be the first person to tell you he hated his job.  It sucked, the hours were long, the pay was terrible, the people were completely unappreciative, whatever complaints he had for the day or the year would be unleashed.  But so far, he’d spent ten years in the ward, and never wanted to leave.  Dom had spent his twenties fueled almost entirely by black coffee and cigarettes.  He’d picked up more shifts and covered for plenty of coworkers when things got tight.  Being an emergency ward healer was a lifestyle for Dom, not just a job.

Sure, he needed a girlfriend like a plant needed water, ASAP.  Sure, he was getting pretty distracted by all of his friends getting hitched and having kids, and starting to wonder if that would be in his future.  But?  To be honest?  Dom was pretty happy with how he was now.  He just needed, like, five more minutes of sleep so quit paging him!

Roleplay: 
You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character:

Option One -
Amelia Nixon was many things, but she was never a pushover reporter that people could just usher away with a busy shuffle past. She was dedicated and eager to cut to the very middle of the current political tensions because she was Amelia Nixon and her articles would most certainly become front page material.

“Sir, please! It’s for the Prophet, how do you feel-“

Another one brushed passed her, the shuffling busy masses making their way through Diagon Alley for the lunchtime rush. This had been the best possible time to get people, but none of them were giving her anything to go with.

Only momentarily discouraged, the short red headed lady took a seat on a nearby bench. Her quill resting in her left hand and her notepad ready in the opposite hand. Amelia pouted, tapping the quill against her leg as she scanned the waves of people for somebody - anybody - who looked like they had something to say.

She had been dreaming of her name in bold print, Amelia Nixon: The Source of Today’s Tomorrow. She had been dreaming of the larger office and the secretaries that would fetch her the morning coffee and fetch her anything she needed. The VIP interviews and the most exclusive press passes. But all Amelia had was a page seventeen piece on the rising number of frogs in London.

Hardened by a day of no success, the reporter stood up and started to trod off down the alley. A loose stone on the cobble path caught her heel, sending the distraught girl toppling down to the ground.

“Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!” she yelled as she tried desperately to recover her shoe frantically in the middle of the Diagon Alley moving crowds.

Option Two -
The snow had been falling steadily all morning and it didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon. Joshua Campbell scrunched his face up in a frown as he lifted his gaze to look to the sky. Snow. It really was quite a bother.

And it certainly didn't make it better that Diagon Alley seemed to be getting more and more crowded. Joshua sighed and pointed his wand at the large box that was currently placed on the doorstep of his shop. He had to get going. He had an order to deliver.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" The elderly man muttered and watched the box hover in the air for a moment. Honestly, did St. Mungo's really need that much tinsel? And with glitter of all things? He sighed again. If it hadn't been for the rather convincing stamp on the order, he would have been likely to believe it had been a prank by one of those orphaned rascals living up there. 

Oh well, there was no point in waiting. Joshua deftly stirred the box down the doorstep and out onto the street, carefully levitating it above the heads of the crowd.

"Coming through! Coming through!" His voice sounded over the chatter of the crowd. "Keep out! Move ahead! Go on!" This was going way too slow. People were in the way and walking like they had all day! He huffed. Luckily the road was down hill.

"Coming through! Coming th--- arrrgh!" Joshua let out a loud shout as his feet suddenly slipped in the snow and sent him, the box, and several long strands of tinsel tumbling into the person who had been walking in front of him.

"For Merlin's sake!" Joshua muttered angrily as he hurried to his feet again, red and gold tinsel now decorating his black coat. "I am so sorry! This blasted snow!" He looked apologetic at the person he had crashed into.

Roleplay Response:

Option Two:

Dom blinked as a snowflake fell onto the lit end of his cigarette, and knocked out the tiny embers at the end.  Then another fell, then another, soaking the tip of the nicotine stick as its owner stared at it, flabbergasted.  Dom squinted stupidly at it, watching the smoke sputter to a soaked, unfortunate end.  Then, because his sleep deprived brain didn’t know any better, he tried to inhale from it, only to be met with, obviously, sopping wetness.

“Damn,” Dom growled, tossing it into a snow covered bush as he walked on.  He reached into his pocket to fish out another one, side stepping a passing group in Diagon Alley.  A tap of the carton resulted in zilch for cigarettes.  The tall man growled ten more curses as he neatly crushed and rolled up the cardboard, tossing it into a bin.  He continued to blearily tap his pockets.  When no more packets showed up miraculously, he swore under his breath that he was sending the newest intern out on a run the second he got on shift that night.  Intern, welcoming witch, the janitor, hell, the head of St. Mungo’s themself needed to run a trip out for emergency supplies.

Dom took an angry step forward and slid suddenly as someone bumped into him from behind.  He turned, blonde eyebrows raised in ire, at the tumbling mess of man and tinsel.  “You good, old man?” Dom drawled.  Whether the other man was nineteen or ninety, Dom had a tendency to refer to all in generic, disrespectful terms.  Dom lifted a piece of gold tinsel off of his shoulder with a two fingered pinch, raising an eyebrow.  It took Dom barely a blink to attempt to categorize any injuries across the man.  “A bit early for Christmas, isn’t it?”


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