Physical Description: Ever a rowdy and energetic child, Sylvie has worn her brown hair in braids--either one down her back or, more frequently, one on either side--for most of her young life. Her eyes are blue and take after her birth father's (Levitt).
Quick to smile, she's extremely expressive, with her eyebrows, mouth, nose, and cheeks displaying every twitch of emotion or thought that comes to her mind. She blushes somewhat easily, and her skin is pale enough to show it, though she tends to tan easily in summer.
She is a slim, petite child that dreams of growing tall and curvy--though neither are likely to happen, at least anytime soon. Her small hands are graceful and articulate, and she often uses them while speaking; anyone that touches them or looks closely might notice the callouses on her fingers from playing string instruments.

Mental Description: A fanciful child filled to the brim with daydreams and fantasies that she isn't afraid to talk about at length. A bona fide chatterbox, her fathers say she could "talk the ears off a statue". A trickster at heart, she loves to laugh and joke, play music, discover new things, and listen to gossip. With all her emotions on her sleeve, she's prone to crying easily, even in public, and wishes she could be more stoic and cool, like her storybook heroes. She can be single-minded in her devotion to mastery if she's passionate about something, but struggles with perfectionism and feeling like she must be good at everything she tries. She's not touchy about too many subjects, but is easy to anger if someone pushes her too far or teases her too much. Her ideal is to be like a chivalrous knight, so she's likely to stand up to a bully on another's behalf rather than cower from getting involved.

Biography: Sylvie is the biological child of her father, Levitt Hawthorne, and a surrogate (muggle) mother, and was raised by her father and his husband, Minden Sunnersea. Levitt is a wizard that has poured his love and magical talent into music, and Minden, a singer, is a muggle that, according to Levitt, "could hear the magic in my music". They met long before she was born, and are somewhat old to be parents, and by their standards, especially young to be newlyweds. Sylvie has only met her biological mother once, when she was 6, and her mother was unaware of either Levitt's or Sylvie's connection to magic.

Sylvie considers her childhood to be quite a happy one--learning music from her parents, riding ponies and learning horseback riding from Minden, and trampling through the woods with imaginary friends. Her life oscillated between the easy-going, take-life-as-it-comes approach of Levitt and the strict, military-order approach of Minden to her upbringing and education. Levitt is a lute player, and Sylvie was brought up learning violin, harp and lute, with more emphasis placed on lute and violin than on harp. She's shy of singing, but can be coaxed into it and generally enjoys it when she does.

As for book studies, Minden was strict about her keeping up with them and usually oversaw her studying--it will probably be difficult for her to adjust to setting her own pace and working by herself at Hogwarts. Sylvie attended a muggle school in the small village of Wheldrake where she grew up, and was an average student in most subjects, being better at Geography than History, Music than Art, and about the same in Math and English.

She was often bullied either for her willingness to disclose her whimsical notions or the fact that she had two fathers, though there were children that were good and steady friends to her, in particular Sevver Goldbolle, the son of a local landowning family. He, too, will be going off to boarding school rather than continuing his education in Wheldrake, but his will be a school for well-off muggles.

First Instance of Magic: Sylvie was four when she first displayed magic. It was the day after her birthday and stuffed full of sugar and sunshine, she was in the garden with her parents while they made jokes, tickled her, and teased her. At one point she began laughing in earnest, and her parents laughing made her laugh harder, and as she laughed harder and harder she began to feel breathless—like she was going to tumble over onto the ground—but instead of falling, when she tumbled she tumbled into the air, where she spun a little as she laughed even harder. She rose about three feet into the air before she ran out of breath—when she stopped laughing and gulped in air, she fell and Minden had to catch her. Afterwards she tried to get the feeling back—laughing or smiling, doing small, toddler sized somersaults by rolling on her head, but the feeling wouldn’t—or couldn’t—come back. Because she was so young, she has mostly forgotten her own memory of it, but has heard the story enough times to know of it.