sibling of Cirrus Nam OOC



Physical description:

Yohan Heavenly Nam looks like a wild horse straight out of a fairytale book. Long, golden, mane-esque hair frames his pale face, and his features are quite feminine as he takes after his mom, although they are slightly undefined because of his age, there is a strong promise of good looks in his future. A high nose bridge in between round, dark almond eyes. To accompany his sour attitude, his lips are petal like but turned into a permanent pout on his face, and the sweet smile he rarely shows off is paired with a single dimple in his right cheek. Yohan has expressive eyebrows, and a face that conveys exactly what he’s thinking at all times, even when it’s unwanted. Yohan, with his short stature, dresses with no taste, wearing whatever he thinks looks decent. Good thing Hogwarts has uniforms!

Mental diary:

Yohan is a… Character, an interesting character. Mainly raised by his homebody (and a bit agoraphobic) mother, he conveys a lot of traits that would seem awkward for an 11-year-old boy.

Yohan isn’t stupid, but he plays the part very well, so well some might even describe it as manipulative, but Yohan himself just says it’s all a good bit of fun, no one’s actually getting hurt. So this means when Yohan is asked what 1 + 1 was, he counts on his fingers. He can’t read the word dragonfly and he doesn’t know where exactly in America he lives, even though he lives in the UK.

He isn’t the kindest boy, and he doesn’t pretend to be. Impulsive, rude, outlandish, and aware of his First Amendment, he simply says whatever pops into his silly head. However, that being said, he is a people person. Whether you are a muggle, half-blood, pure blood, or any creature in between, Yohan is running his mouth to you, again whether you like it or not. Yohan loves, loves, loves to talk, and his voice is like honey to listen to, so at least there is a little benefit.

Yohan happens to be 101% a mama’s boy, through and through, and shamelessly at that. Maybe that’s the reason he has a vast collection of pony dolls in his room that’s decorated with pastels. He wouldn’t care in the least if he got a pink shirt instead of blue, or a bow in his hair instead of a bowtie, and although his character traits suggest it, Yohan Nam is absolutely not a crier. Another thing that could be considered peculiar, when a child falls and scrapes their knee, they shed at least a few tears right? Not him, he’ll just be upset with the inconvenience of actually falling down during his soccer game– The one trait he got from his father was his love for Muggle sports.

Life in Wales:

Yohan was raised 98% by his mother, Darling Nam. The woman is absolutely beautiful, but tragically out of touch with reality, having been stuck inside of her house since it was purchased by the two. Darling has definitely babied, coddled, smothered and spoiled her son beyond belief, but she was just her handsome baby boy, her only son. Because of her, Yohan has proudly adapted to the “I’m just a baby, gimme what I want,” mindset, and expects nothing less outside of his demands. The other 2% of his upbringing, where his father contributed, was filled with learning sports, learning the names of plants, and learning how to treat others (a skill Yohan has yet to master).

Not knowing discomfort economically, the idea of being without money is so foreign to the child. Being the only Nam child, he’s been the center of attention and has always gotten everything he’s asked for, and even things he hasn’t. His parents, especially his dear mother, were like mind-readers, granting every unspoken wish Yohan could think of, so yes, of course he was spoiled. A carton of milk in the back of the fridge with a sour smell.

Even with the big house and endless gifts, Yohan still felt lonely. His father was working his fancy job, and his mother was always distant from her son, as much as she tried to share her loving heart with him. Some days he would find his mother spacing out by the window, her heartbreakingly gorgeous face pulled into an expression that Yohan couldn’t quite figure out the meaning of. Maybe she was thinking of better times at that school he’d heard about, a magical one that she’d sometimes giggle about with him. “Oh the times I had!” She’d say, but she refused to talk about it around our neighbors at house parties. She’d groan afterwards, mumbling of their inability to conduct magic, calling them muggles.



First instance of magic:

The airplaning spoon of peas was supposed to go into the mouth of 4-year-old Yohan, propped up in a highchair. The toddler had swatted at the blue rubber spoon several times, yelling as soon as Dad pushed the mushy greens closer to his pouting lips, the peas flying everywhere. Yohan smiled a triumphant smile as Dad threw his hands up into the air with exasperation, muttering in his native tongue.

"Menace,” Dad had whispered under his breath, turning to his wife with the same pouty expression his son was just wearing. His wife, Yohan’s mother, Darling, scowled at him, not missing out on the small insult he threw at her son.

“Let me,” She took the spoon from her frustrated husband, turning to face Yohan again. Her red lips curved into a delicate smile, admiring the way Yohan sat so tall in his highchair, and the blue rubber spoon in her hand moved forward to feed the child. With no success, Yohan wailed, tiny fisted hands swooping the utensil out of her grasp. Mom gasped, and looked at Dad who was wearing a smug face on his handsome face. Huffing, and slightly red faced, Mom gracefully scooped up the spoon once again, looking at Yohan’s triumphant round toddler face.

“Say ahh, Heaven,” She cooed, and this time, without flinging his hand, just simply glancing at the blue spoon like it was his mortal enemy, the thing flew. All the way up, up, up, and hit the high-beamed ceilings, leaving the green stain of mushy peas on the paint above. Slowly, the couple turned away from their son, who was giggling, and looked at each other. Impressed was Yohan’s dad, but his mother, her eyes changed into something sad, somber, as if the path of magic wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. As if she meant to leave that part of herself behind when she married a muggle against her father’s will, ruining the pureblooded family. She meant to leave it when they moved to a muggle neighborhood, surrounded by dull but clueless people. She would’ve never thought that her life before would’ve followed her like a ghost, and possessed her child, turning him into a magical boy. She glowered at the stain on her ceiling while Dad, laughing, twirled his son in his strong arms.