Physical Description:I have tan(light to medium) skin, blue/gray-ish eyes, height 5’0, dirty blonde hair, and a decent amount of freckles covering my cheeks and nose. Clothing wise; I like wearing loose or baggy clothing and I don’t like tight clothing. I like experimenting with dark and light clothing types and styles. I don’t really have a style yet.

Mental/Personality Description: I am very hardworking but also shy. I enjoy to go adventuring, making things out of scratch and doing things for the thrill of it. I enjoyed helping out others; especially elderly people and always strive to keep up a cheerful environment and keep people happy. I enjoy being around animals. I am slightly dyslexic and have a bit of trouble paying attention to some things.

Biography: My mother was a muggle and was a school teacher while my father was a pureblood and worked for the ministry. We lived in a decently big house for the 3 of us in an open field a bit fair from hogsmeade. I was able to go exploring and run around in the fields and forests where I spent most of my time. I had a decent amount of friends- tho, it was a pretty quiet, remote area so not many people lived around us. Nonetheless, I had fun and enjoyed spending time outdoors with my family and animals surrounding us.

First Instance of Magic: I was 9 or 10 years old, running through the forest, feeling the wind rush past me as the sunlight flickered through the branches overhead. Everything felt so free and alive — until my foot caught on a tree stump. I pitched forward, tumbling down a hill. The hill was small but it had lots of branches and pinecones on it. By the time I landed at the bottom, my arms and knees were scratched and bruised, and the sting of pain brought tears to my eyes.

As I sat there crying, the bright, sunny sky above me began to shift into these darker clouds, casting a shape of the forest as it started it pour violently within a couple minutes. The harder I cried, the harsher the rain seemed to fall, as if the storm itself was tied to me.

It wasn’t until my parents found me, breathless and worried, and probably wondering what happened and where I’ve been that things began to change. My mother wrapped me in a cozy blanket, while my father knelt beside me, brushing the wet hair from my face. Slowly, I began to calm down. The storm eased, changing from a violent downpour to a soft sprinkle. My parents helped me to my feet and carried me back home.

There, my mother carefully cleaned my cuts while my father gave me a bit of potion to soothe the pain — and before my eyes, the bruises and scratches vanished. Just as the last of my tears dried, the clouds outside parted. Sunlight streamed back across the fields and trees, as if nothing had ever happened.