Jacob Hawthorn, First Year, Ravenclaw
Full Name: Jacob Hawthorn
House: Ravenclaw
Age: 12
Wand: 35,0 cm alder wood and phoenix feather
School Year: First
Patronus:
Species: Human
History/Background Story:
Oxford, Hospital, 17/11/2008
A woman in a bed is holding a newborn. “He’s beautiful”. He agreed, but the joy in him didn’t leave any space for words.
Tuscany, 18/06/2014
“Jacob! Lunch is ready!” Her voice echoed through the field. The scorching sun couldn’t compete with the kid’s infinite supply of energy. “Just five more minutes, pleeeeeeeeease!" He had become incredibly good at faking a sad expression, and his big blue pleading eyes could move the coldest of killers. But it clearly wasn’t working, quite the opposite in fact: the woman by the threshold had started marching towards the child menacingly. He knew that it was best not to mess with her. She was sooooo scary. “Fine, I’m comiiiing! Frigo, Bella, come here! Lunch is ready!” “woof!” “woooof!”. The kid loved playing with the dogs as much as they loved playing with him, but their love for food was beyond human imagination.
Anna Lombardi was, and still is, a strong, independent woman: hadn’t she married Paul, Jacob’s life would be a living hell, because he would be shouted at all the time and grounded for every little thing. Paul Hawthorn was his hero: he was cool, tall, he had a soft black beard, he could do card tricks, and he was good at playing every kind of game; the perfect father, if not for the fact he liked to win every single game against Jacob, and never let him win, not even once: the only game Jacob had a shot at was the game of chess, his absolute favourite.
Florence, Train Station, 08/14/2018
Why can’t we bring the dogs with us? Sure, the city is not the perfect place for them but… what will be of them? Will Mrs Bianchi really take care of them?
I miss them already…
Why do we have to move?
Why can’t I stay here?
Why, of all people, do I have to suffer this?
Why do I have to leave my classmates behind?
I was doing great in school… what did I do wrong?
I want to stay home…
Oxford, School, 20/01/2019
“So, Mr.Rookwood, how’s my son doing?”
“He’s doing great. He’s very sociable, and he has adapted to this new environment very well: he made many friends among students, teachers and janitors. Teachers, including myself, think very highly of him, and so far he’s proven to have many desirable qualities: he’s kind, supportive, understanding, empathetic; I could add many more. Grades are pretty impressive, and he excels at scientific subjects. But this is not why I called you here. See, the issue is, he looks extremely tired lately: he has been sleeping in class, and performance has decreased critically. I suggest you talk to him about this, and we can try to work out some kind of solution together.” […]
Oxford, 20/03/2019
Echoes of dogs barking and children playing were painfully travelling from the back of his brain, through the frontal lobe, all the way to the eyeballs, where they solidified as water and finally got out of his system, like kidney stones. It’s not easy to sleep when you have kidney stones, and it’s even more difficult to get rid of them.
Jacob was sitting on the bed, hands in his face. Where those brave tears that had managed to flow between his fingers down through the cracks of the tiles of the floor touched the ground, a flower now blossomed. When the weeping was over there were many of them: each had long slender leaves and six white and pointed petals, shaped like a star. He was bewildered.
“Should I wake them up?” He thought.
He woke his parents up, and a long and absurd explanation followed: his father was a wizard, and perhaps so was he.
Hogwarts, 15/07/2020
A white owl is leaving Hogwarts, its beak holding an envelope. Green ink on the outside says:
House: Ravenclaw
Age: 12
Wand: 35,0 cm alder wood and phoenix feather
School Year: First
Patronus:
Species: Human
History/Background Story:
Oxford, Hospital, 17/11/2008
A woman in a bed is holding a newborn. “He’s beautiful”. He agreed, but the joy in him didn’t leave any space for words.
Tuscany, 18/06/2014
“Jacob! Lunch is ready!” Her voice echoed through the field. The scorching sun couldn’t compete with the kid’s infinite supply of energy. “Just five more minutes, pleeeeeeeeease!" He had become incredibly good at faking a sad expression, and his big blue pleading eyes could move the coldest of killers. But it clearly wasn’t working, quite the opposite in fact: the woman by the threshold had started marching towards the child menacingly. He knew that it was best not to mess with her. She was sooooo scary. “Fine, I’m comiiiing! Frigo, Bella, come here! Lunch is ready!” “woof!” “woooof!”. The kid loved playing with the dogs as much as they loved playing with him, but their love for food was beyond human imagination.
Anna Lombardi was, and still is, a strong, independent woman: hadn’t she married Paul, Jacob’s life would be a living hell, because he would be shouted at all the time and grounded for every little thing. Paul Hawthorn was his hero: he was cool, tall, he had a soft black beard, he could do card tricks, and he was good at playing every kind of game; the perfect father, if not for the fact he liked to win every single game against Jacob, and never let him win, not even once: the only game Jacob had a shot at was the game of chess, his absolute favourite.
Florence, Train Station, 08/14/2018
Why can’t we bring the dogs with us? Sure, the city is not the perfect place for them but… what will be of them? Will Mrs Bianchi really take care of them?
I miss them already…
Why do we have to move?
Why can’t I stay here?
Why, of all people, do I have to suffer this?
Why do I have to leave my classmates behind?
I was doing great in school… what did I do wrong?
I want to stay home…
Oxford, School, 20/01/2019
“So, Mr.Rookwood, how’s my son doing?”
“He’s doing great. He’s very sociable, and he has adapted to this new environment very well: he made many friends among students, teachers and janitors. Teachers, including myself, think very highly of him, and so far he’s proven to have many desirable qualities: he’s kind, supportive, understanding, empathetic; I could add many more. Grades are pretty impressive, and he excels at scientific subjects. But this is not why I called you here. See, the issue is, he looks extremely tired lately: he has been sleeping in class, and performance has decreased critically. I suggest you talk to him about this, and we can try to work out some kind of solution together.” […]
Oxford, 20/03/2019
Echoes of dogs barking and children playing were painfully travelling from the back of his brain, through the frontal lobe, all the way to the eyeballs, where they solidified as water and finally got out of his system, like kidney stones. It’s not easy to sleep when you have kidney stones, and it’s even more difficult to get rid of them.
Jacob was sitting on the bed, hands in his face. Where those brave tears that had managed to flow between his fingers down through the cracks of the tiles of the floor touched the ground, a flower now blossomed. When the weeping was over there were many of them: each had long slender leaves and six white and pointed petals, shaped like a star. He was bewildered.
“Should I wake them up?” He thought.
He woke his parents up, and a long and absurd explanation followed: his father was a wizard, and perhaps so was he.
Hogwarts, 15/07/2020
A white owl is leaving Hogwarts, its beak holding an envelope. Green ink on the outside says:
MR. J.HAWTHORN,
His Room in his House,
14, Walton st.,
Oxford.
His Room in his House,
14, Walton st.,
Oxford.
Last edited by Jacob Hawthorn on 24 Jan 2021, 00:00, edited 3 times in total.
Jacob Hawthorn, First Year, Ravenclaw
Jacob Hawthorn, First Year, Ravenclaw
Relationships
Last edited by Jacob Hawthorn on 21 Jan 2021, 18:56, edited 1 time in total.