Physical Description: Ceraphine has large, expressive, teal eyes, a sun-kissed light olive complexion, a slightly upturned nose and a lithe, willowy frame. Light freckles dust her face and shoulders and a tiny beauty spot sits on the side of her throat. Her wavy brown hair dusts the middle of her back, a few peeks of blonde shimmering through her toffee-coloured tresses.

Mental Description: Matching her delicate features, her mannerisms are equally as refined. Clear-headed and intuitive, Ceraphine is a patient person with an impressive hold on her temper. Since she is quite logical and thinks reasonably, finding out a solution to any problems she faces is simple enough. She is a skilled smooth-talker and can easily charm anyone with her sweet words and dazzling smiles. She finds it difficult to trust anyone or open up and making friends is a challenge for her. When in dilemma, she prefers to think by herself and gets annoyed if someone invades her space and imposes on her privacy. But leaving her alone with her thoughts is often dangerous, sending her into a spiral of self-blame and guilt. She has a hard time dealing with loss and grief, often needing support but not admitting it.

Biography: Ceraphine Felice Ashbloom was born in Lyon, France, to Celia Janvier, a muggle-born French witch, and Rosent Ashbloom, an English wizard of pure-blood ancestry. Since the Ashblooms resented Celia for being a muggle-born, the couple fled to Lyon after eloping so that they could lead a happy and peaceful life.

Their first child, Ceraphine's older brother, Sebastian, went to Beauxbatons all his life, acquiring a mastery in potions and brewing in Birmingham, and pursued potion-making in Paris after graduating. He adored his younger sister, from whom he was 13 years older, and Ceraphine admired him greatly.

Her mother had been affected with a rare type of blood disease a few years after Sebastian's birth which had been weakening her slowly. Severe effects had started to show when Ceraphine was around 6 years old. Not wanting their young daughter to witness her mother in such great pain, Rosent and Cecile thought it best to send her away. When she was almost 7, Sebastian suggested that she might live with him in Birmingham since he had fallen in love with the city during his mastery and thought that his little sister would love it as well.

Cecile's already frail health took a turn for the worse when Ceraphine was on the brink of turning 9. She had begun to lose her memory and no amount of potions and complex magic could save her from her impending death, looming over their heads like a dark thundercloud. Ceraphine longed for her mother, begging her brother to let her visit whenever he left for France. Every time, the answer was 'no'. Sebastian's heart had broken when he first saw his mother suffering under the curse of the deathly illness. She was no longer their mother, just a shell of the woman she was before. He could only imagine the state his sister would be in after witnessing her mother in such a condition, and only the thought of it made him anxious.

After weeks of begging and crying, Ceraphine finally saw her mother. Though she never uttered a word or let any emotion flicker across her face, Sebastian knew that something behind her eyes had cracked and frozen. She held onto her mother's hand, chin wobbling with the effort of keeping her emotions from overflowing, and silently stroked the hair both of them shared. She never spoke about it again.

First Instance of Magic: One summer evening, when Ceraphine was 8, she had a particularly... interesting incident with an apple tree in the backyard of their house in Birmingham.

As a child, she was obsessed with climbing the trees at their estate in Lyon and plucking off fruits and flowers. She'd continued this after moving to England and no amount of threats and punishments could sway her from spending half the summer swinging from branches. Even after being warned by Sebastian not to climb any trees after she grazed both her knees on the bark of one in the previous week, she felt it necessary to make this particular apple tree her abode for the evening.

While climbing, her hand grabbed a branch to hoist herself up, feet balancing precariously on a sturdy-looking branch below. Instead of holding her weight it snapped abruptly, loosening her hold on the branch and sending her falling backwards through a height of 10 or 11 feet.

Her breath caught in her throat, brain working furiously to find something to hold on to, when suddenly, a cushion of air stopped her freefall. Bewildered, but not frightened, she slid off, feeling it deflate beneath her once she was on the ground. She ran in, confused and full of questions, to narrate the entire incident to her brother. He immediately owled their parents, and she later realised that it was her first instance of magic, proving that she was a witch.