Physical Description: Polly has tangly auburn hair and a lanky build. Her watery grey-green eyes usually have dark rings beneath them due to sleep deprivation. She has a small, pouty mouth. Her nose sticks up at the end. She’s not often without her dark red cardigan.

Mental Description: Polly is paranoid, with a bit of a nervous disposition. Despite her jumpiness, however, she’s not cowardly. Squeamish at times, but never cowardly. She doesn’t trust easily, but when her loyalty is earned it’s unshakeable. She’s decently intelligent, mostly because of her obsessive research habits. If she takes interest in something, she’ll read everything she can find about the subject.

Biography: Polly was the result of her negligent mother’s immoral lifestyle. Her mother abandoned her at the foot of a statue in Stratford. Squalling in a cardboard box, she was discovered by a kindly man she would eventually call her grandfather: Clive Inkling. He was something of a retired wizard, great in his day but fatigued with the wizarding world. He withdrew from magical society and lived in a cottage near the edge of town. The muggles there thought he was a reclusive coot. He took Polly in and raised her to believe in magic. He didn’t suspect she possessed any until…

First Instance of Magic: It was an ordinary summer day, warm and sunny. Polly had turned four just the week before. She was out in the garden, looking for worms by the fish pond. Clive, reading Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, sat in his rocking chair on the porch. Polly had been babbling happily to herself, but suddenly stopped. Clive glanced up from his book to see two small fish floating in the air above Polly. They whirled around and around, the little girl’s large eyes following each movement. Astonished, Clive leapt up from his seat and rushed over. He picked Polly up and the fish fell back into the water with a splash. Clive looked around anxiously, thinking a witch or wizard must be somewhere in the bushes. He found no one. Polly blinked up at him, a mix of confusion and annoyance in her gaze. “Grandpa, can you make the fish fly again? Please?” But Clive hadn’t done anything. The puzzle pieces clicked into place.