Wotcha. S'a pleasure. The name's Aaron Hastings, a being born from a little town called Alfriston in East Sussex. I never knew magic existed until an owl landed on my doorstep, telling me that I'm a bloody wizard! Well, witch. If I hadn’t accidently controlled the ocean I would have passed it off as ridiculous.

I stand at a whopping 138cm, with big clunky feet and a small head (in my opinion). My giant dark chocolate curls make up for it though, enlarging my head by a sizeable amount. Most of my small face is taken up by my thick eyebrows, which I see as my best feature, since they distract you from the mischievous look in my eyes. As for fashion, I'm the pajamas sort. It takes a lot of effort to separate me from my big comfy britches and oversized argyle sweaters, and I'm looking forward to wearing my new robes (which may or may not be a tad oversized). Aside from that: dark brown eyes with a smattering of green that only I can apparently see, a healthy dusting of freckles (but only on my shoulders, I'm not quite sure why), and I have a weird obsession with those circular coloured sunglasses. I think they're fashionable.

I'd just as quickly punch you as play a trick (I'm not known for my patience). I'm also an expert at sly looks and evil grins. Good luck telling what I'm thinking, my mum says I'm as two faced as a theatrical mask, and just as dramatic. My interests include pranks, mischief and deception. I've got a good head on my shoulders, but I rarely dedicate it to my studies. I'd rather be wrecking havoc than sitting around with a stack of dusty old books. Now they've placed a magical stick in my hands, I'm sure I can wreck even more havoc than usual.

Alfriston is a small town, just a few hundred people. We're all practically neighbours, everybody knows everybody. I live with my mum, da, and nutter younger twin brothers, all cramped together in a little cottage on the outskirts of town. We have a gigantic garden, where my mum grows enough vegetables to feed a quarter of the town. After we'd found out I was a witch, she told me to learn as many plant growth spells as possible. She was disappointed when she found out I couldn't use magic outside of school until I turned 17. My da is a furniture carpenter, with a small workshop completely permeated with wood dust. We also have a dog, a big, ancient Airedale terrier named Lucy. Before my magical incident, I spent my days suffering through school and exploring the beach for interesting looking seashells to sell to tourists at the Sunday market. I also picked a lot of fights and accepted a lot of challenges (I'm not one to back down from a dare). My childhood is marred with constant bumps, breaks, and bruises. I was the ringleader of my little group of friends, always leading us headfirst into danger and mischief. It must have been fun though, seeing as they never abandoned me.

My magic manifested in an oddly heroic manner, considering my personality. The gang and I had found a big half-submerged cave during low tide and decided that a little exploration was necessary. We discovered a treasure trove of seashells and in our giddy excitement, caution was thrown to the wind. One of my friends, a small girl named Anne, ventured too close to the swaying water and slipped on the wet rocks. We heard her shriek and raced over, but she was being sucked out towards the cave opening, towards the open ocean. I ran after her and, when the time was right, I jumped into the water. I managed to catch her arm, but the sea was too strong. We couldn't make it back to the rocks, where the others were waving desperately at us. We were clinging to a rock that was jutting out of the water, but it was wet and my grip was weakening. My frustration grew and I yelled desperately at the water, telling it to sod off or something, I can't remember exactly what. And it did. The section of water around our rock peeled back suddenly, depositing us onto the rough waterbed. It was like we were oil and the water was desperately trying to get away, rising in a ring around us. We stared in shock for a moment, all of us, even those on the rocks. Then someone got their head on straight and yelled for us to get out of there. We snapped out of our respective dazes and ran for safety. The moment we were clear of the edge the sea came crashing back down, angry, like we were prey that had gotten away. A week later I got a letter in the mail declaring me a witch, and telling me not to try anything else. It was like they knew I'd been trying to recreate what I'd done before (thinking back on it, they probably did. Magic tracking or something of that sort).