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Rhys Hughes
Status:
Half-blood
Birthday:
30 Nov 2008
Nationality:
Welsh
Residence:
Cardiff, Wales
Function:
Third year, Gryffindor
Wand:
22,9 cm chestnut wood and phoenix feather
Physical Description: Like a sapling, Rhys is a tall, weedy lad with more strength and flexibility than one might expect from those lanky arms and that long, ambling, bordering on awkward gait. Years spent outside have littered his nose with freckles and his body a number of superficial scars. His hair and eyes are the precise shade of freshly watered dirt. He’s got a quick smile but his eyes are often narrowed, which could give the vague impression of haughty or unfriendly as he refuses to admit he might ever need glasses. Almost perpetually disheveled, it appears as if he couldn’t care less about his appearance, though sometimes the disarray is a little too casual to be fully believed.

Mental Description: For someone who feels unequivocally stuck, Rhys is like the wind, different from one moment to the next. He’s moody and mercurial, and that lack of inner equilibrium, that state of constant flux, has left him with an indistinct disconnect that he’s determined to overcome. He’s desperate to prove himself in whichever endeavour he chooses, friendships, sports, lessons, and whatever uncertainty develops along the way he attempts to sideline until later, often without success.

For Rhys, context is everything; it colours his thoughts and determines his reaction to them. He’s hyper-aware of himself at all times and, while he longs to get lost in physicality or indifference, this boy’s mental processes have a tendency to self-sabotage and he’s long since perfected the Art of the Brood. Ultimately, he’s a kid who puts a lot of pressure on himself. He’s got a surplus of passion he doesn’t know what to do with and an incredible drive, almost to the point of hardheadedness, though rarely with consistent direction. He has a tendency to be plain speaking and honest with others, although unsurprisingly isn’t always able to extend the same courtesy to himself. Beneath all that fast swirl of emotion, he’s rigidly, painfully sensitive, and he longs to prove to everyone that he’s in fact solid, strong, and capable of success. Most of all to himself.

Biography: Born to a muggle father who inherited the family farm and a witch mother descending from a line of powerful wizards, the one thing that Rhys’ parents have in common is their complete lack of success. His father, Desmond, has never been able to restore the farm to the well-oiled machine his own father perfected over 50 years before, and his mother, Alleira, never managed to meet the expectations or master the potential that seemed so easy for her own more magically-gifted siblings. Once she graduated from Hogwarts-- after being nowhere near the rank of Head Girl-- she returned to the family home in Wales and the disappointment of her father waiting there and eventually absconded with the muggle boy she’d known ever since childhood.

Located some 30 kilometres outside of Cardiff, in relative isolation from both the muggle and wizarding worlds, they built a relatively happy, if rather tumultuous home on the sleepy little sheep farm. Here, Rhys has always been a bit of a loner, though not necessarily by choice. With a much older sister and brother and two much younger sisters, his middle child syndrome has only worsened the older he’s gotten and the more emphasis Desmond has put on him committing to his role on the farm and the less Eira wanted to admit that each of their children has more magical talent than she ever possessed.

When his letter arrived, the house erupted into chaos. That Rhys would be following his elder siblings’ paths to Hogwarts seemed to exacerbate existing tensions in the family over the appropriate role magic should play in their lives. Desmond’s inability to keep the farm fully afloat on his own without magical assistance or less than legitimate enterprises had spurred Eira into using her few talents sparingly and covertly, resulting in an upbringing that has been tinged with and hinted at by magic but without a clear sense of its true nature and potential. They have both made their loud, opposing stances known to him, and Rhys has been suspended between them so long he’s just desperate for something new.

As for his Rhys himself, he’s not entirely sure what to expect of this new school or himself either. What he has seen from his older siblings, accomplished witch and wizard in their own rights that they are, has intrigued and excited him more than he’d like to admit, though he has little idea how exactly it will pan out for him or what he is truly capable of after being another set of hands on a muggle farm his whole life. He’s eager-- too eager-- to explore who he really is and what he can actually do. There’s greatness in his blood, but piddling mediocrity too, and he’s secretly terrified to find out which one will win.

First Instance of Magic: At around age three, Rhys was in the sheep paddock shadowing his father, who was checking the new lambs. After some (mostly) good-natured teasing from the three year old, the ram, Rambo, instituted some unheeded warnings before charging at Rhys, only to be deflected away and up into the open second floor window of their house and onto his sister's bed.