Adam Harringtom | Ravenclaw Graduate

Basic Information

Full Name: Adam Christopher Harringtom Age: Eighteen Species: Human Height: Six feet one inch Weight: One hundred seventy pounds Hair Color: Blond Eye Color: Pale Green

Adult Level: Adult I Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw Wand: Cherry wood and unicorn hair, twenty-four centimeters Patronus: none (yet) Date of Birth: November 8, 2005 Hometown: Nottingham, England

Background

Adam Harringtom was born on November 8, 2005, to wizards Kristine and David Harringtom. Growing up, Adam learned the ins and outs of wandwork and wizardry, whether it was in lessons from his parents or teachings from his brother Dean. Though he was never allowed to use the magic himself, due to some ancient decree Adam didn't really understand, the lessons gave him even more reason to look forward to his eleventh birthday, when he'd finally attend Hogwarts like the rest of his family. Hogwarts, however, always seemed to be a long way off – in the meantime, he settled for games that were just as magical. The summers offered Quidditch scrimmages in the yard, he and his brother attempting to cover every position on beat-up broomsticks and tossing around an old volleyball for a quaffle. In the wintertime, when Dean was off at school, Adam and his parents would huddle over a wizard chess board or a deck of Exploding Snap and dedicate the afternoon to a family tournament. It was a simple, nice life with a simple, nice family.

This carefree routine carried Adam through the years until his tenth summer. Only days after the older son returned on the Hogwarts Express, Adam's father received a letter from Bordeaux, the final residence of his elderly mother. Her death sent him into a sort of manic spiral, inconsolable despite the best efforts of his wife and sons. It took only a week for him to find transportation to Bordeaux, and with barely a word of his intentions to the rest of the family, David was gone to France. Adam's mother was furious, frightened, and above all else, determined to bring her husband back from the edge of insanity. She could not, however, leave her children alone. Pressured by time and worry, she made a quick decision and reached out to an old friend. Adam and Dean would indeed have a place to stay while their parents chased each other down: Edinburgh, Scotland, 360 kilometers from home.

Neither boy was thrilled with the prospect of the travel: Adam was sad to see his mother go, and Dean was insistent on his own independence (being 15, he didn't see a reason for a babysitter). The only positive to the experience was their new guardian. Bridgit Morrey was the closest thing Adam had to an aunt, though unrelated by blood. She was an old schoolmate of his mother's, and had remained her best friend years after graduation. Bridgit was a fierce, competitive woman with a love for games and challenges to rival Adam's. In short, he loved every second he spent with her. The summer seemed to fly by, spent in a whirlwind of exciting adventures and lightning rounds of cards and chess. Bridgit taught Dean a few tricks in duelling, and even took the long trip to Loch Ness with Adam one day to look for the famous kelpie in its depths.

It was during the Scottish summer holiday, also, that ten-year-old Adam wielded magic for the very first time. To hear him tell the story, it happened like this: he, Dean, and Aunt Bridgit were wrapped up in a fierce game of Gryffinball in the backyard. Gryffinball was a game invented by his aunt and her Hogwarts friends; it was, in essence, Quidditch, on the ground, without a quaffle. Astride an ordinary, non-flying broom, Adam chased the Golden Snitch and beat bludgers towards Bridgit and Dean until victory presented itself. He’d spied the Snitch dead ahead. It hovered in place just at Adam’s eye level; it almost looked confused, like it had lost sense of its flight path. Seeing nothing but the glimmer of sunlight off gold, Adam lowered his shoulder and began to charge the Snitch, stretching his hand out to grasp it tight.

He heard the crack of a bat. He heard Aunt Bridgit let out an alarmed cry and fumble for her wand. He turned to see what was the matter — and he saw a bludger rocketing towards him on a collision course with his head.

Instinct alone made Adam throw his hands up in front of his face. He was bracing for immense pain and the humiliation of being knocked on his butt. Instead, he felt a whoosh, as if he’d been struck by a gentle breeze. Cautiously, he lowered his hands to see the bludger hovering an inch from his nose. A chill ran down his spine. He didn’t know what he’d done; in fact, he’d barely been aware of doing anything at all. But a strange feeling deep down tickled him as he stared wide-eyed at the bludger, and it told him that he had saved himself. He had done his own magic at last.

Bridgit, pale as a ghost, flicked her wand, dropping the bludger to the ground, and ran to hug Adam close. The rest of the day was a gratifying blur: his aunt chewed out a truly shame-faced Dean (“I said no head shots!”) and then bought both boys ice cream to celebrate Adam’s milestone. In the following weeks, Nottingham barely crossed the boys' minds, and by the time August rolled around, they never wanted to leave.

The end of summer meant the start of another school year, however: Adam's last spent at home before he could attend Hogwarts himself. It was time to return to England. His parents were upset to hear that they’d missed his first use of magic, but grateful that he wouldn’t wind up a squib. He was just glad to see them both in one place — both back at home. Yet even that didn’t last long. Dean was gone seemingly in an instant, his father not long after that — this time busy with a new job, somewhere closer to the Muggle community, where he could find some escape from the lingering memories of his beloved mother. Adam's mother was splitting her time between reorienting her rattled husband and taking care of her remaining son. Things were different among his family; not bad, not suspicious, but different. The teenage disease had taken Dean, who now treated Adam like a nuisance rather than a friend. Even the games that Adam had always been delighted by were starting to get boring. At least Aunt Bridgit had promised she’d visit more often.

Hogwarts became the shining point on the horizon, and somehow Adam got through the rest of the year with it in his sights. Before long, it was his turn to visit Diagon Alley, slipping through the secret wall and getting his very own everything: scales, books, a cauldron, even a wand! New friends and new experiences started to pop up everywhere, relighting a spark in Adam that could only grow. Hogwarts was clearly where he belonged.

iNPC Rudolf "Dolf" Novikov

face claim: Wade Poezyn

Age: 18
Birthplace: Kyiv (Kiev), Ukraine
DOB: January 24, 2006
School: Durmstrang
School Year: Eighth Year
Race: Human
Blood Status: Pureblood

Appearance

Rudolf is about average height, at 5 feet 10 in (1.78 meters). He weighs about 155 lb (70 kg), and is in good shape thanks to Durmstrang’s inclination towards physical activities. Dolf has short-ish hair that some have called black, but he thinks of as dark brown. He likes to keep his hair as neat as possible, and tries to look presentable at all times. His eyebrows are thin and flat, the same color as his hair. He has blue eyes that tend to narrow naturally, making him look angry or displeased even when he isn’t. Dolf doesn’t have any especially defining features, although he’s been told on occasion that he looks older than he is. Since entering Durmstrang, he’s nearly always dressed in their red-and-black robes, adding or removing layers as the weather dictates. He’s never been one for jewelery, and doesn’t wear any watches or necklaces.

Personality

Dolf’s boldness and quick temper is countered by the self-discipline that his father instilled in him growing up, though at times he has trouble keeping a cool head. The boy is daring and ambitious, and will do (almost) whatever it takes to reach his goals. That being said, Dolf values loyalty above all, a virtue that has been reinforced by his time at Durmstrang. He has lots of pride in his school and his classmates, making him a good friend once you get to know him. He knows the importance of secrets and discretion, and may be slow to trust a stranger.

Many of Dolf’s values and beliefs have been inspired by Durmstrang, such as his distrust of Nonmagi and his respect for magical prowess. Since power is encouraged and rewarded at Durmstrang, Dolf is likely to have more respect for those that can wield it adeptly, even if they might be rivals. His schooling also sharpened his competitive edge, giving him a new interest for dueling and sports like Quidditch. He speaks both Ukrainian and English, one language from each parent. Dolf looks forward to building some new connections with Hogwarts students, whether those are friendships or good-natured rivalries.

History

In the winter of 2004, amateur English monster hunter Anna Berkeley left her hometown of Brighton and Hove determined to prove herself to her family — and the world. As a graduate of Hogwarts School and House Gryffindor, she was looking for greatness, but it turned out to be hard to find. After failing to attract the fame she was searching for by tackling trolls across the UK, Anna turned her attention to a creature that was sure to bring her renown: the Ukrainian Ironbelly, the largest species of dragon in the world. She arrived in Ukraine determined to hunt down one of the beasts and take home its head, fueled by reckless ambition and bluster. Luckily, before Anna could get herself killed, she met a man who swept her off of her feet.

Bohdan Novikov was a young employee for the Ukrainian Ministry of Magic, and fate found him at the same bar in Kyiv that Anna visited on her first night in the country. The two wizards talked until the bar closed, drinking and laughing and swapping stories. Bohdan convinced Anna to pursue a less dangerous quarry, and Anna helped him work up the courage to ask for a promotion. They agreed to stay in touch until the monster hunter returned to England. Eventually, it became clear that she’d found a new home; after a year, the couple was married, and one year after that Anna gave birth to their firstborn son.

Rudolf Novikov, named for a paternal ancestor, enjoyed a magical upbringing just outside of Kyiv. Both of his parents came from pureblood families, and they raised their son with enchanted toys, miniature magic lessons, and bedtime stories like The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Growing up, Rudolf didn’t have many friends; there were very few children in the neighborhood, and he spent most of his youth with his stay-at-home mother and the family cat, Tchaikovsky. Although Anna had left her monster hunting days behind, she passed along the ambition and drive that had led her to that field to her son, shaping him into a headstrong and determined boy. Rudolf’s father was often busy with Ministry work, but he still made time for his only son, and taught him the importance of loyalty and commitment. When he was eight years old, Rudolf showed his first signs of magical capability. He’d been running through the house recklessly and tripped over the edge of a carpet, right into the open, roaring fireplace. Fearfully, Rudolf put his hands out to catch his fall, and the logs suddenly froze over, putting out the fire in an instant. His parents were scared nearly to death, but relieved at the same time; they’d been starting to worry that they’d raised a Squib. At age 10, Rudolf’s real magical training began at his father’s alma mater: the Durmstrang Institute.

The school certainly posed its challenges, as he’d been told that it would. On his very first day, Rudolf and his classmates were taken into the wilderness for “survival training”, spending a week familiarizing themselves with the landscape and how to, well, survive in it. The experience opened Rudolf’s eyes to what was really in store for him for the next eight years, but by the end of winter, his doubts and fears had been, for the most part, laid to rest. It was fulfilling to live with the rest of the Durmstrang boys, learning from each other and competing for the highest room in their tower. His classes were just tough enough to require a good effort, which Rudolf was obliged to provide. He made friends, took exams, traveled the grounds (although not very far, wary of the legend of the Stribog) and grew comfortable in the castle’s halls. It almost felt odd to be back in Kyiv every summer, as glad as he was to see his parents again.

It was in third year that Rudolf started going by just “Dolf”, especially around friends, and in that same year he found an interest for martial magic. Avid practice wouldn’t start until after fifth year, but Dolf liked to listen to the stories that the older boys told and hear about what they were learning. Martial magic was definitely more compelling than the Dark Arts, and it seemed to tie in nicely with Durmstrang’s policy of protecting one’s secrets. Magic was only good if it could do something, after all, and though the Dark Arts had their uses, martial magic was more gratifying to the boy. It called to the fighting spirit that he’d gotten from his mother. He would definitely allow for his mind to change before it came time to make the choice, but Dolf was almost certain that combat magic was his biggest interest.

Stats

~ Strength: 10
~ Evasion: 8
~ Accuracy: 8
~ ArcPower: 9
~ Wisdom: 5
~ Stamina: 10
= total of 50

Abilities

01. Monster Hunter

Reducio

Rudolf’s mother might have hung up her monster-hunting gear by the time that her son was born, but she still had an entire library’s worth of stories to pass along. Although Anna Novikov might not have achieved very much in her short-lived career, she’d done enough research to practically become an expert in the field of monsters and magical creatures. What else was she supposed to talk about when little Rudolf wouldn’t fall asleep at night?

At first, Anna's stories sounded more like fairy tales than field reports. She started with the more whimsical magical species; her bedtime tales were filled with unicorns and dragons and embellished with fantasy-like detail. Eventually, things started to get more practical. Rudolf learned about hippogriffs and grindylows, mermaids and centaurs. He giggled through Anna's profiles of flobberworms and gnomes, and huddled close to his mother's side when she turned to frightful topics like acromantulas and basilisks. They spent their days together pretending to do battle with giants and escape from dementors. When night fell, Anna tucked her son into bed and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Once he'd finally nodded off to sleep, often in the middle of her story, she'd remind him in a whisper that there was nothing to be afraid of.

Eventually, Rudolf grew out of playing games with his mother. He stopped needing her stories to fall asleep, and their discussions turned from monsters and beasts towards his upcoming first year at the Durmstrang Institute. The boy had no plans to become a monster hunter like his mother had always aspired to be, and as such he saw little point in memorizing all of her facts and statistics. Still, he couldn't deny that the knowledge could be useful. There was no telling if or when he'd run into a monster that was out for his blood. With his mother's unofficial training, he might be able to protect himself from an unfortunate end.

A year of Durmstrang education turned Anna's old stories from general knowledge into a strategic advantage. The school reminded Rudolf of where his trust was best placed: with his fellow purebloods. Perhaps he wouldn't go actively looking for monsters, but he'd definitely know what to do with them if they came his way. His mother's experience would help him find their weaknesses, their soft spots, their flaws -- and his school training would give him the tools that he needed to take the creatures down. After all, it was his duty as a wizard and as a Durmstrang student to protect himself and his schoolmates from the clawed beasts that waited outside of the castle walls.

WC: 439

02. Martial Artist

Reducio

After Rudolf’s second year of schooling, he had become a much more confident wizard than ever before. His small arsenal of spells felt like enough to take on any problem — in fact, he could hardly remember how he’d survived without his wand in hand. Rudolf's father must have been able to see his son's confidence tipping dangerously close to arrogance, because one summer evening after the family had finished eating dinner, he sat Rudolf down for a talk.

"What do you do if you lose your wand in a duel, Rudolf?" he asked evenly, peering at the thirteen-year-old boy curiously. Not sensing the trap that was hidden underneath his father's civility, Rudolf shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

"What could I do? I'd have to surrender, wouldn't I? I won't know how to do wandless magic for a long time." It seemed like a fine answer to the boy. He could hardly compete against an armed wizard; to do so would mean certain defeat.

"No!" Rudolf's father bellowed, pounding his fist against the table. Rudolf jumped, shocked to see his father react with such fire. He'd always been a calm and collected person. Had Rudolf's answer really been wrong enough to warrant that violent response. He watched his father fearfully as the man closed his eyes and took a deep breath, frowning at his son.

"You are already making the mistake that I see so much. Magic is your tool, Rudolf, but it is not your crutch. If you can't do anything without it, then you don't deserve to have that wand." Rudolf's face burned red in shame and his gaze dropped to the floor. What made his father qualified to talk about getting by without magic? He'd been raised just as pureblooded as Rudolf had been. He worked for the Ministry of Magic, even. If he didn't have his wand, Rudolf doubted that his father could get by.

"Get up," Rudolf's father ordered, and he heard the scrape of the dining chair against the floor. Slowly, the boy looked back up to see his father standing behind the table, beckoning him over. "Come on. We're going to pretend that I'm here to...kill your mother." Rudolf's eyes widened and he glanced over his shoulder, wondering if Mrs. Novikov had heard anything. "What do you do?"

The boy shrugged, swaying uncertainly on his feet. "What can I do?"

"You know what!" Rudolf's father rebuked him. "I know that they taught you better than this at school. You don't have your wand. You have to protect your mother. What are you going to do about it?" Slowly, Rudolf moved around the table and faced his father. He swung his arm out uncertainly in a weak punch that cut through the air in front of his father's nose, and the man nodded solemnly in approval. "Good. Again. Don't be afraid to hit me for real, Rudolf. I won't punish you." A small smile crossed his father's lips, and Rudolf smiled back. He struck his father lightly in the chest and was shoved backwards in return. The two men wrestled for a few minutes more before Rudolf's father raised his hands in surrender.

The lesson had been learned: magic may have been Rudolf's birthright, but it wasn't going to float him through life. Eventually, there were going to be obstacles that couldn't be cursed away; as long as he kept practicing, Rudolf's fist would be just as useful as the wand that it held.

WC: 582

03. Fearless

Reducio

It hadn't taken Rudolf very long to learn that there was no place for fear at Durmstrang. He'd been thrown into the deep end in the very first week of his first year, when his entire class had been taken deep into the grounds for "survival training". If that didn't force Rudolf to face his fears early on, he didn't know what would. The very nature of the Durmstrang Institute strengthened the boy, making him tougher, more resilient. As Rudolf started to take an interest in martial magic, he became less and less worried about physical threats. He had the means to protect himself, and he was learning more with every lesson. The jittery nerves that had plagued him during his first few days were quickly calmed as he got to know his classmates, living with them and learning as much as he could from the older boys. Durmstrang was the fire that was forging Rudolf into a steadfast and strong wizard.

His time at school wasn't the only thing that eased his fears, however. His parents had taught him their own lessons and prepared him for survival in the magical world. Thanks to his mother's bedtime stories, Rudolf wasn't worried about creatures or beasts. He knew better than to go chasing after dragons or basilisks unprepared, and he could keep his calm in the face of animal danger. While he wasn't exactly battling monsters every day, Rudolf knew that he could, and that was enough to help him keep his composure.

His father had saved Rudolf from himself, making sure that he didn't cripple himself with a total reliance on magic. They worked hard in their summers together to build Rudolf's physical skills, keeping him in shape and teaching him the ins and outs of physical dueling -- or, like the nonmagi called it, a good old-fashioned street brawl. Rudolf didn't love the idea of resorting to such barbaric means, but at least he was prepared to come to blows.

As a graduating fourth year, Rudolf feels like he can handle anything that the world might throw at him. Monsters? No big deal. Curses? Nothing that a counter-spell couldn't solve. All-around jerks? A punch to the face should work nicely. Rudolf has been raised to take care of himself, and intends to use all of his skills and abilities to keep himself and his loved ones out of danger's way. Rudolf may only be a teenager, but he's designated himself as a protector, and protectors cannot afford to be afraid of anything.

WC: 422

04. Advanced Casting

Reducio

It was the summer before Rudolf's fifth year, just after he'd returned from London and the Quidditch World Cup, that his parents had sat him down in the kitchen and told him that it was time to "get serious" in his studies. He had to admit that he'd been caught by surprise. London had put him in a good mood (which was probably what they were planning on), and after four years of hard work at Durmstrang, Dolf had been under the impression that he was "serious". He gave more than enough of his time to reading, writing, chanting. He was attentive in all of his classes and he never missed an assignment. Hell, he could name plenty of his classmates that he knew were far less "serious" than he was. But he knew that his father wouldn't take that as an excuse. It would only anger the man. So Dolf kept his mouth tightly shut and heard his parents' rationale.

They started off with the obvious, that he was officially halfway through his Durmstrang education. No words of praise were offered, but there were no criticisms, either. Just a statement of the facts: you've completed four years. Your effort was satisfactory. That was when they started talking about the future, about success. About what he had to do to ensure it. "It never hurts to work harder," he'd been told. When it came down to it, their basis was universal: they only wanted the best for their son.

And Dolf, trusting their appraisal more than he trusted his own, promised that he would up his efforts. From the first day he returned to school in the fall, his wand never left his hand. He was practicing incantations between mouthfuls at breakfast; executing wand movements in his free time between lessons; spending his evenings sharpening his skills of concentration under pressure. His mother would delight at his conviction, he thought. His father would congratulate his form. And he wanted them to, more than he even knew why. Maybe it was just to prove that he could get better. The root of magic was innate, after all -- that was what separated Dolf and his people from the Nonmagi -- but there had to be a way to improve it once you had it. Otherwise, what was the point of all this studying? And how could Dolf become any more than he was now?

As winter turned to spring, he finally started noticing results. With his tongue sharper, his arm steadier, his will sturdier, Dolf found that his spells had lots more potential than they had a year ago. They were stronger, he thought, like he was. And as long as he kept up his work, he'd have something really impressive to show off when he got back to Kyiv in June.

WC: 469