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Frieda Fogle
 
Status:
Pure-blood
Nationality:
English
Residence:
Tregony, England
Function:
First year, Gryffindor
Wand:
24,5 cm cypress wood and dragon heartstring
Romanian / 11 / 5'2" / Proud Lion


Frieda Fogle has been called many things but miscalculated is most-fitting. Because of her vagueness and insouciance people often think she's just another cold-hearted Pureblood who has little care for anyone, or anything, else. But that would be a great lie; beneath the callous facade and eyes like pools of ice there lies a turbulent river of emotions and intelligence that she's chooses never to show out pure reluctance.

Growing up in a family of cutthroat Purebloods molded her into the hardened lass she is today. Frieda had to fight her own battles when her kin teamed up against her, to make her stronger and because unlike them, she has genuine empathy for others. Her family, especially her father and grandfather, are less known for their charity and more for their ruthlessness, despite their several honorable deeds. They're muggle-hating and attempted to imbue that malice into Frieda but she refused, sticking to her own opinions and beliefs relentlessly. Unfortunately her childhood turned her into someone who isn't the most loyal being in existence.

Frieda had to learn to think ahead to win. Her parents, Decebal and Cordruta, challenged her everyday in all ways outside of school. Nothing gets pass her. Frieda is always assessing the situation and coming up with remarkable ideas she rarely shares, being the partial introvert that she is. She speaks less and listens more, her words purposely vague out of respect for her rapid thought-process and a laugh at the befuddlement of others.

She could care less about what others thought about her. Frieda is more like the bully than the victim, even though she doesn't take part in such harassment...unless it's particularly fun. Although she carries a pallid, gangly, and somewhat delicate look, Frieda is more than capable of holding her own, even physically. More than a few cuts, bruises, and busted lips have come her way, mostly from her own siblings who played too hard.

Things got better after her magic surfaced, when she turned eight. It was her birthday and while she was supposed to be wishing for something fanatical but all her mind filled up with was the will to wield magic. Suspicious of the silence around her, Frieda opened her eyes again to find her cake floating from it's platter—seconds later only to have it explode in everyone's face. Despite curses of ruined clothes, Frieda was quite delighted of her achievement.

Frieda's family comes from Romania. Like most of them she stands unusually tall for her age, at five feet two. She similarly inherited the hair like vermilion, the deep, pulsating redness emanating from it. It's contrast almost violently against her pale, milky skin dotted with light freckles and a single beauty mark under her right eye. Only she and her mother share the same eyes so pale blue in color they seem grey. Other than those peculiarities, Frieda looks like an average child her age, juvenile and merry.