Barron de Homem-Christo

[Barron de Homem-Christo]

Name: Barron de Homem-Christo

Birthday: May 5

Hometown: Dublin, Ireland

Bloodline: Half-blood

Magical Strength: Conjuring & Summoning

Magical Weakness: Transfiguration

Year (pick two): Second Year; Third Year

Biography:
Ballsbridge, Dublin.

On what was arguably the loveliest street in one of the most upscale areas of Dublin city, stood a languish, Elizabethan manor. The front area of the house boasted a courtyard, lined with crisp, brilliantly green grass, and in the very center stood a large playing fountain. It was a lovely place to grow up, Barron de Homem-Christo thought, gazing out of his bedroom window with a sudden realisation that soon this wouldn’t be home anymore. A sleek car peeled into the driveway, and Barron pushed himself away from his bedroom balcony. His mother was back, and he had good news to tell her.

In a liquid-smooth swirl of silks and furs, Antonia de Homem-Christo flounced into the grand dining room as Barron entered from the kitchen. It was nearing the evening, and a warm red light from the setting sun tumbled through the French doors that overlooked the tidy, quaint courtyard in front of their home.

   “Mon petit!” Antonia exclaimed, her willowy figure paused at the threshold as she slid her sunglasses down her nose and away from her face. Barron jerked forwards instinctually and marched across the glossy mahogany floor to give his mother a kiss before she could scold him for being timid.

   “How was your flight, mum?” He asked in the light, sing-song voice that had made him the unfortunate target of his brothers’ taunts. Theodore and Bastian were tall and brave, with hardened, calloused hands from years of playing Hurling and Quidditch - just what you’d imagine two fifteen-year-old boys to be. For all their brawn and chaos, Barron was the opposite.

        Gentle and sensitive, Barron was a little bird, likened in the very image of his statuesque mother, who was only too happy to foster the feminine ways of her youngest son, and treat him as she did Barron’s two younger sisters, Phillippa and Demelza. Manicures, ballet, charms and afternoon tea. Antonia assured her youngest son that it didn’t matter he wasn’t like other boys, that he was special and creative and had an exquisite eye for interior design. “But you mustn’t tell your father.” Antonia would stress, her French accent dominating her English.

   “Ghastly.” She responded, tucking her sunglasses into her Hermès bag. “You’d think they’d know how to serve a decent cocktail in first class,” Antonia brooded, her heels click-clacking as she walked over to a couch and dropped her bag on a pillow, “but that’s the Spanish for you.” She added, collapsing into the plush cushions. “Has your ‘Ogwarts letter come, mon chéri?” Barron grinned, suddenly alight with excitement as he scrambled to the dining table to brandish the acceptance letter with a proud flourish. “I can do conjuring and summoning there, can’t I?” Barron asked eagerly, climbing up onto the couch next to his mother. He tucked his legs beneath him, getting comfortable, the familiar smell of his mother’s perfume instantly calming his rapid heartbeat. Antonia cuddled her son, nodding in reply. 

   “Are you sure you won’t consider Beauxbatons?” Antonia asked. She knew the answer, Barron had given it dozens of times now. “Theodore and Bastian are going to be Prefects this term, and I so adored my time there – “

   “It’s because Theo and Bastian are there that I cannot go.” Barron said firmly, still in the tight clutches of his mother’s embrace. “You know this, maman.”

   It was no secret to Antonia that her oldest sons could be quite brutish and dominating – mirror images of their father, though she couldn’t deny that her husbands’ unpredictable and unbridled aggression is what attracted him to her. She daren’t say that to Barron, though. “Your father loved Hogwarts, I suppose.” She reasoned, with a suitable amount of melancholy in her voice. “And at Hogwarts you will be the most beautiful boy.”

Barron detangled himself from Antonia’s ever-tightening hug with a laugh. “Handsome, mumma. Boys are supposed to be handsome.”

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.

House Request: Slytherin

Personality:
There’s seldom anything that Barron enjoys doing more than telling people about his extensive list of hobbies; ballet, violin, painting, drawing, reading, crochet, origami. He loves to create beauty wherever possible.

Having been coddled by his mother from a very early age, Barron is quite self-centred and arrogant, however it seldom comes from a place of malice. It is just the simple fact that everything should be about him, quite frankly. And when Barron finds himself not the centre of attention, it can be hard to get him out of a bad mood.

The trials and tribulations of others is of little interest to him, which has certainly affected his abilities on acquiring friends. The fact that his best (and only) friends are currently his sisters and his mother touches a nerve, and Barron is determined to make friends who appreciate and worship him at Hogwarts. Every goal that Barron sets out to achieve, he succeeds, and at Hogwarts it will be no different.


Appearance:
Barron is pale and willowy, with aristocratic good looks that undoubtedly came from his mother, a Beauxbatons alumna. At average height, Barron has striking grey eyes, full plush lips and a mop of carefully styled brunette hair, that he swears he doesn’t actually style at all (he’s also a total fibber).

Despite not having a wand of his own quite yet, Barron often borrows his mother’s wand to try out cosmetic charms on himself, at varying levels of success.


→ 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."



REPLY

“It’s called ballet.” Barron announced pompously, relaxing his Demi-Plié to look at the two gawking first year girls. It was like she had never seen someone en pointe before!

The first years jumped, looking frightened and confused. Barron had been at Hogwarts for two weeks now and hadn’t done any dancing to his dismay. After breakfast, he enlisted the services of two timid little first years to be his adoring audience in the courtyard – the perfect stage for his breathtaking rendition of des Grieux. However, the two tiny girls had barely said a thing, and Barron was yet to see a single tear from either of them. The cheek!

“Alright, you can go.” Barron grumbled, his shoulders sagging in dejection. His hopes of finding a doting audience in this school were fading quickly.

Lost in his melancholy thoughts, Barron didn’t notice the heightening sounds of Hugh’s frantic searching. It was only until the almighty sneeze from the fifth year that Barron snapped back to reality and spotted the boy in the bushes, looking filthy and dazed.

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

Barron wrinkled his nose in dismay. “Nor is it polite to have snot all over your school robes.” Beauxbatons students wouldn’t be so messy and unrefined, he thought plaintively, before mentally shaking away such snobby thoughts that were no doubt subconsciously inherited from his fussy mother. He wouldn’t make friends by being an elitist.

“Do you…” Barron eyed the glossy smear as it trailed down Hugh’s sleeve and resisted the urge to dry-wretch, “want a tissue?” It was the most helpful he could be in this instance; from the older boy’s hollering moments ago, Barron assumed he was looking for a pet of some sort, but joining the boy in trudging around in the dirt was just going too far.

Philanthropy is hard.


→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have  on the site (current and previous): N/A

How did you find us?: Facebook!

[Aubrey Kedding]

Hey Barron!

First of all, welcome to HS.net! We are so happy that you have found your way to us from the wonderful Book of Faces!

You application looks amazing and I cannot wait to see Barron in action at Hogwarts. However, before we can get him accepted I need to ask for just one tiny edit!

“Are you sure you won’t consider Beauxbatons?” Antonia asked. She knew the answer, Barron had given it dozens of times now. “Theodore and Bastian are going to be Prefects this term, and I so adored my time there – “

In our AU, Beauxbatons does operate as a non-played school. However, at this time we would like to refrain from assigning important positions - such as Prefects - within the school (as we do with many things within our universe).

Just post a reply with your edited application below and we'll be happy to take another look!

[Barron de Homem-Christo]

Name: Barron de Homem-Christo

Birthday: May 5

Hometown: Dublin, Ireland

Bloodline: Half-blood

Magical Strength: Conjuring & Summoning

Magical Weakness: Transfiguration

Year (pick two): Second Year; Third Year

Biography:
Ballsbridge, Dublin.

On what was arguably the loveliest street in one of the most upscale areas of Dublin city, stood a languish, Elizabethan manor. The front area of the house boasted a courtyard, lined with crisp, brilliantly green grass, and in the very center stood a large playing fountain. It was a lovely place to grow up, Barron de Homem-Christo thought, gazing out of his bedroom window with a sudden realisation that soon this wouldn’t be home anymore. A sleek car peeled into the driveway, and Barron pushed himself away from his bedroom balcony. His mother was back, and he had good news to tell her.

In a liquid-smooth swirl of silks and furs, Antonia de Homem-Christo flounced into the grand dining room as Barron entered from the kitchen. It was nearing the evening, and a warm red light from the setting sun tumbled through the French doors that overlooked the tidy, quaint courtyard in front of their home.

   “Mon petit!” Antonia exclaimed, her willowy figure paused at the threshold as she slid her sunglasses down her nose and away from her face. Barron jerked forwards instinctually and marched across the glossy mahogany floor to give his mother a kiss before she could scold him for being timid.

   “How was your flight, mum?” He asked in the light, sing-song voice that had made him the unfortunate target of his brothers’ taunts. Theodore and Bastian were tall and brave, with hardened, calloused hands from years of playing Hurling and Quidditch - just what you’d imagine two fifteen-year-old boys to be. For all their brawn and chaos, Barron was the opposite.

        Gentle and sensitive, Barron was a little bird, likened in the very image of his statuesque mother, who was only too happy to foster the feminine ways of her youngest son, and treat him as she did Barron’s two younger sisters, Phillippa and Demelza. Manicures, ballet, charms and afternoon tea. Antonia assured her youngest son that it didn’t matter he wasn’t like other boys, that he was special and creative and had an exquisite eye for interior design. “But you mustn’t tell your father.” Antonia would stress, her French accent dominating her English.

   “Ghastly.” She responded, tucking her sunglasses into her Hermès bag. “You’d think they’d know how to serve a decent cocktail in first class,” Antonia brooded, her heels click-clacking as she walked over to a couch and dropped her bag on a pillow, “but that’s the Spanish for you.” She added, collapsing into the plush cushions. “Has your ‘Ogwarts letter come, mon chéri?” Barron grinned, suddenly alight with excitement as he scrambled to the dining table to brandish the acceptance letter with a proud flourish. “I can do conjuring and summoning there, can’t I?” Barron asked eagerly, climbing up onto the couch next to his mother. He tucked his legs beneath him, getting comfortable, the familiar smell of his mother’s perfume instantly calming his rapid heartbeat. Antonia cuddled her son, nodding in reply. 

   “Are you sure you won’t consider Beauxbatons?” Antonia asked. She knew the answer, Barron had given it dozens of times now. “Theodore and Bastian will be going back, and I so adored my time there – “

   “It’s because Theo and Bastian are there that I cannot go.” Barron said firmly, still in the tight clutches of his mother’s embrace. “You know this, maman.”

   It was no secret to Antonia that her oldest sons could be quite brutish and dominating – mirror images of their father, though she couldn’t deny that her husbands’ unpredictable and unbridled aggression is what attracted him to her. She daren’t say that to Barron, though. “Your father loved Hogwarts, I suppose.” She reasoned, with a suitable amount of melancholy in her voice. “And at Hogwarts you will be the most beautiful boy.”

Barron detangled himself from Antonia’s ever-tightening hug with a laugh. “Handsome, mumma. Boys are supposed to be handsome.”

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.

House Request: Slytherin

Personality:
There’s seldom anything that Barron enjoys doing more than telling people about his extensive list of hobbies; ballet, violin, painting, drawing, reading, crochet, origami. He loves to create beauty wherever possible.

Having been coddled by his mother from a very early age, Barron is quite self-centred and arrogant, however it seldom comes from a place of malice. It is just the simple fact that everything should be about him, quite frankly. And when Barron finds himself not the centre of attention, it can be hard to get him out of a bad mood.

The trials and tribulations of others is of little interest to him, which has certainly affected his abilities on acquiring friends. The fact that his best (and only) friends are currently his sisters and his mother touches a nerve, and Barron is determined to make friends who appreciate and worship him at Hogwarts. Every goal that Barron sets out to achieve, he succeeds, and at Hogwarts it will be no different.


Appearance:
Barron is pale and willowy, with aristocratic good looks that undoubtedly came from his mother, a Beauxbatons alumna. At average height, Barron has striking grey eyes, full plush lips and a mop of carefully styled brunette hair, that he swears he doesn’t actually style at all (he’s also a total fibber).

Despite not having a wand of his own quite yet, Barron often borrows his mother’s wand to try out cosmetic charms on himself, at varying levels of success.


→ 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."


REPLY


“It’s called ballet.” Barron announced pompously, relaxing his Demi-Plié to look at the two gawking first year girls. It was like they had never seen someone en pointe before!

The first years jumped, looking frightened and confused. Barron had been at Hogwarts for two weeks now and hadn’t done any dancing to his dismay. After breakfast, he enlisted the services of two timid little first years to be his adoring audience in the courtyard – the perfect stage for his breathtaking rendition of des Grieux. However, the two tiny girls had barely said a thing, and Barron was yet to see a single tear from either of them. The cheek!

“Alright, you can go.” Barron grumbled, his shoulders sagging in dejection. His hopes of finding a doting audience in this school were fading quickly.

Lost in his melancholy thoughts, Barron didn’t notice the heightening sounds of Hugh’s frantic searching. It was only until the almighty sneeze from the fifth year that Barron snapped back to reality and spotted the boy in the bushes, looking filthy and dazed.

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

Barron wrinkled his nose in dismay. “Nor is it polite to have snot all over your school robes.” Beauxbatons students wouldn’t be so messy and unrefined, he thought plaintively, before mentally shaking away such snobby thoughts that were no doubt subconsciously inherited from his fussy mother. He wouldn’t make friends by being an elitist.

“Do you…” Barron eyed the glossy smear as it trailed down Hugh’s sleeve and resisted the urge to dry-wretch, “want a tissue?” It was the most helpful he could be in this instance; from the older boy’s hollering moments ago, Barron assumed he was looking for a pet of some sort, but joining the boy in trudging around in the dirt was just going too far.

Philanthropy is hard.


→ ABOUT YOU.

Please list any characters you have  on the site (current and previous): Charlotte Anais Nin

How did you find us?: Facebook!

[Aubrey Kedding]

Mr. Homem-Christo,

Congratulations, your application to Hogwarts School has been accepted. Term begins 01 May, 2018. Currently, students have gathered at Camp Loki. Your admission is joint for both the school and Camp Loki, and we encourage you to spend your summer there. Should you choose, you may also visit our Elsewhere board via the Floo Network to visit or purchase school supplies. We look forward to seeing you at the School.

Regards,
Aubrey Kedding,
Gryffindor Head of House