Index Registration
Character name (First and last name): Elisha Pennyworth
School Year or Adult Level: 1st Year
Does any Profile Card info need changing? No
Link to the character page: Encyclopedia.
Character Statistics:
Stamina: 4
Evasion: 5
Strength: 2
Wisdom: 9
Arcane Power: 9
Accuracy: 6
Character Special Race/Talent: N/A
Character Backstory:ReducioElisha Pennyworth is the eldest daughter of Amelia Pennyworth, a healer at St. Mungo's Hospital, and Howard Pennyworth, a senior official in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Growing up in Mirfield, England, she spent much of her childhood getting babysit by their house elves while her parents worked long hours. Though she admired her mother's kindness and her father's calm strength, she quietly resented how their work give them little time for her which often consists on dinner time.
Things changed when her younger brother, Elias, arived. For a short while, her parents stayed home more often, making it the happiest period of her childhood. But after Elias was born frail, their attention shifted almost entirely to him. In a moment of childish jealousy, Elisha wished he would disappear. When he caught a fever not long after, she blamed herself, carrying the guilt ever since. The experience left her fiercely protective of the people she loves and afraid of losing them.
As she grew older, she began to associate her parents' exhausting work with the growing number of Muggle-borns and their involvement with the Muggle world. A frustrating encounter with a newly introduced Muggle-born in Diagon Alley only reinforced that belief. Since then, Elisha has quietly come to believe that those raised outside the wizarding world can never truly understand its traditions. She remains polite and respectful toward everyone, but beneath her composed manners lies a quiet prejudice she has never had a reason to question.
First Instance of Magic:ReducioElisha was 4 when she was playing with her friends while their parents discuss something important she didn't bother to know. It has already been an hour since they started playing Gobstone and unfortunately one of her friend has been on a losing streak since the second half of the game. It didn't even help that the others has been continuously teasing him about it. Just as she was about to comfort him, he had burst out into rage and smacked the Gobstone aside.
At the same time the curtains in the room had suddenly burst into fire. Just as everyone was panicking, she noticed one of her friend's cloth catch on fire. She freezes for a second mind imagining her friend turning like one of those wood the house elves puts into the fireplace.With a trembling hand she reaches out to warn her friend only for the fire to burst brightly and vanish. She was confused about what happened, but everyone was safe so it didn't matter.
Later that day, when each of their parents comforted their child. Elisha learns that young witches often displayed accidental magic during moments of intense emotion, and she and her friend had performed magic for the first time.
Pending - July 30 (Lear)
Minor thing: we need the age of your first instance of magic.
Last edited by Elisha Pennyworth on 31 Jul 2026, 11:08, edited 1 time in total.
Index Registration
Character name (First and last name): Aurora belle
School Year or Adult Level: First
Link to the character page: https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=48124
Character Statistics:
Stamina: 5
Evasion: 5
Strength: 5
Wisdom: 8
Arcane Power: 6
Accuracy:6
Character Special race: n/a
Character Backstory:
My FIOM
Approved -- July 30 (Lear)
School Year or Adult Level: First
Link to the character page: https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=48124
Character Statistics:
Stamina: 5
Evasion: 5
Strength: 5
Wisdom: 8
Arcane Power: 6
Accuracy:6
Character Special race: n/a
Character Backstory:
Reducio
Biography: I am a young girl from I currently live in London with my family: my mom, my dad, my brother, my sister.
Talking about my family my mom is a witch she came from a wizarding family called Evans her was name: Rose Evans she had 2 siblings Daisy Evans and Camila Evans
her parents were very supportive of them and all entered Hogwarts at the age of 11 but my mom was the elder so she went first then her siblings.
About my dad he is a muggle-born his name is : William Belle he came from a muggle family he had only 1 sibling named Carrol Belle he and his family was astonished to know that he was a wizard and was about to go to Hogwarts a school for witchcraft and wizardry but sadly his sister couldn't attend hogwarts later he met my mom later they knew each other only because of a small incident in their 5th year enough about that next my siblings I m the eldest of my 2 siblings: Aurora Rose Belle and Harry Belle my mom and Dad was ever so happy to know that I got into Hogwarts at 11th birthday after that they were more proud of me I was shocked to hear about it they eagerly bought me my wizarding stuff and boarded me into hogwarts express
Talking about my family my mom is a witch she came from a wizarding family called Evans her was name: Rose Evans she had 2 siblings Daisy Evans and Camila Evans
her parents were very supportive of them and all entered Hogwarts at the age of 11 but my mom was the elder so she went first then her siblings.
About my dad he is a muggle-born his name is : William Belle he came from a muggle family he had only 1 sibling named Carrol Belle he and his family was astonished to know that he was a wizard and was about to go to Hogwarts a school for witchcraft and wizardry but sadly his sister couldn't attend hogwarts later he met my mom later they knew each other only because of a small incident in their 5th year enough about that next my siblings I m the eldest of my 2 siblings: Aurora Rose Belle and Harry Belle my mom and Dad was ever so happy to know that I got into Hogwarts at 11th birthday after that they were more proud of me I was shocked to hear about it they eagerly bought me my wizarding stuff and boarded me into hogwarts express
My FIOM
Reducio
First Instance of Magic: my FIOM happened during a warm and rainy day (later) when I was 7 I had gone to my cousin's Birthday party (to be exact outdoor birthday party) so anyways next what happened was she loved animals so much that for her party she called for animal petting zoo for sometime and then after awhile it started to rain so everyone suggested we go inside my cousin was deeply sad because the animals will need shelter so later she set up a tent and we were having fun later she served food after cutting cake under the candlelight first she gave juice and chips and cake later she served ice cream and after I ate I got dust in my nose so after taking a bit from the ice cream I sneezed violently and fire came erupting from mouth as I sneezed.
there ends my FIOM
there ends my FIOM
Approved -- July 30 (Lear)
Aurora Belle
follow your dreams
Index Registration
Character name (First and last name): Emma Blak
School Year or Adult Level: First Year
Link to the character page: viewtopic.php?p=1748223#p1748223
Character Statistics:
Stamina: 3
Evasion: 7
Strength: 3
Wisdom: 9
Arcane Power: 7
Accuracy: 6
Character Special Race/Talent: N/A
Character Backstory: Emma was born to two loving fathers and grew up surrounded by people who eventually became one large extended family. While born to two wizards, she was born through a muggle surrogate, making her a genetic half-blood. While money was often tight, her childhood was rich in the things that mattered most: love, laughter, books, and endless stories shared around the dinner table. Her home was always welcoming, with friends and relatives coming and going so often that Emma rarely remembered a time when the house was quiet. She learned early that family was not defined only by blood, but by the people who chose to stand beside one another through every hardship.
Her fathers taught her the importance of kindness, patience, and treating every person with respect regardless of their background or reputation. One of her fathers was a werewolf, and from a young age Emma witnessed the prejudice and fear that many witches and wizards held toward people with his condition. She never understood why someone so gentle and caring could be judged so harshly for something beyond his control. Watching him face discrimination without allowing it to make him bitter gave Emma a deep sense of justice and a determination to judge others solely by the choices they made.
Before receiving her Hogwarts letter, Emma spent much of her free time reading anything she could get her hands on, especially books about magical history, famous witches and wizards, and magical creatures. She loved exploring the countryside surrounding her home, often imagining herself on grand adventures or pretending she was discovering forgotten magical secrets hidden among the trees and fields. In the evenings, she eagerly listened to stories about Hogwarts from the adults around her, asking countless questions about the castle, its professors, and the spells students learned each year. Defensive magic fascinated her the most, and although she was far too young to perform spells herself, she frequently begged her parents to explain how different charms and defensive techniques worked.
Because there were very few magical children her age living nearby, Emma did not have many childhood friends outside her family. Instead, she grew close to the adults in her life, developing a maturity and curiosity beyond her years. She was perfectly content spending hours with a book, helping around the house, or accompanying her fathers on errands through the wizarding community.
First Instance of Magic: Emma's first experience with accidental magic happened when she was five years old while she was playing alone in a meadow near her home. She had been gathering wildflowers into a small bouquet when she wished she could see them dance in the breeze forever. Suddenly, hundreds of colorful petals lifted from their flowers and began swirling around her in a beautiful spiral. They circled her like a tiny enchanted storm, glittering in the sunlight before gently settling back onto the grass. Her astonished fathers rushed outside after seeing the unusual display, only to find Emma laughing in the center of a ring of floating petals. Rather than being frightened, they celebrated the moment, explaining that accidental magic was perfectly normal for magical children. It became one of Emma's favorite childhood memories and only strengthened her excitement for the day she would finally receive her Hogwarts letter and begin learning to control the magic that had always been a part of her.
School Year or Adult Level: First Year
Link to the character page: viewtopic.php?p=1748223#p1748223
Character Statistics:
Stamina: 3
Evasion: 7
Strength: 3
Wisdom: 9
Arcane Power: 7
Accuracy: 6
Character Special Race/Talent: N/A
Character Backstory: Emma was born to two loving fathers and grew up surrounded by people who eventually became one large extended family. While born to two wizards, she was born through a muggle surrogate, making her a genetic half-blood. While money was often tight, her childhood was rich in the things that mattered most: love, laughter, books, and endless stories shared around the dinner table. Her home was always welcoming, with friends and relatives coming and going so often that Emma rarely remembered a time when the house was quiet. She learned early that family was not defined only by blood, but by the people who chose to stand beside one another through every hardship.
Her fathers taught her the importance of kindness, patience, and treating every person with respect regardless of their background or reputation. One of her fathers was a werewolf, and from a young age Emma witnessed the prejudice and fear that many witches and wizards held toward people with his condition. She never understood why someone so gentle and caring could be judged so harshly for something beyond his control. Watching him face discrimination without allowing it to make him bitter gave Emma a deep sense of justice and a determination to judge others solely by the choices they made.
Before receiving her Hogwarts letter, Emma spent much of her free time reading anything she could get her hands on, especially books about magical history, famous witches and wizards, and magical creatures. She loved exploring the countryside surrounding her home, often imagining herself on grand adventures or pretending she was discovering forgotten magical secrets hidden among the trees and fields. In the evenings, she eagerly listened to stories about Hogwarts from the adults around her, asking countless questions about the castle, its professors, and the spells students learned each year. Defensive magic fascinated her the most, and although she was far too young to perform spells herself, she frequently begged her parents to explain how different charms and defensive techniques worked.
Because there were very few magical children her age living nearby, Emma did not have many childhood friends outside her family. Instead, she grew close to the adults in her life, developing a maturity and curiosity beyond her years. She was perfectly content spending hours with a book, helping around the house, or accompanying her fathers on errands through the wizarding community.
First Instance of Magic: Emma's first experience with accidental magic happened when she was five years old while she was playing alone in a meadow near her home. She had been gathering wildflowers into a small bouquet when she wished she could see them dance in the breeze forever. Suddenly, hundreds of colorful petals lifted from their flowers and began swirling around her in a beautiful spiral. They circled her like a tiny enchanted storm, glittering in the sunlight before gently settling back onto the grass. Her astonished fathers rushed outside after seeing the unusual display, only to find Emma laughing in the center of a ring of floating petals. Rather than being frightened, they celebrated the moment, explaining that accidental magic was perfectly normal for magical children. It became one of Emma's favorite childhood memories and only strengthened her excitement for the day she would finally receive her Hogwarts letter and begin learning to control the magic that had always been a part of her.
Pending - July 30 (Lear)
Some minor clarifications
- I am looking to verify and better understand your genetic heritage. You were born via a muggle surrogate, a surrogate carries a child to term but the genetic material (the fertilized egg) would belong to the parents unless there was also a donation source. I am going to need to part explained because having a muggle carry you to term would not give you their genetics.
- Why/how would wizards get into contact with a muggle for surrogacy. Wizards live in a magical environment and have limited exposure to the muggle world. Ron's father, a muggle expert struggled with basic muggle concepts such as "what is a rubber duckie" and even modern wizards still require muggle studies to understand basic concepts.
- I noticed you have 2 fathers, are you genetically related to either?
Emma Blak
Index Registration
Name: Emris Hortensia
School Year or Adult Level: 1st year
Does any Profile Card Info need changing? No
Link to Character Page: Here!
Character Stats:
Stamina: 7
Evasion: 1
Strength: 4
Wisdom: 7
ArcPower: 4
Accuracy: 7
Character special race/ talent: Werewolf
Character Backstory:
FIOM:
School Year or Adult Level: 1st year
Does any Profile Card Info need changing? No
Link to Character Page: Here!
Character Stats:
Stamina: 7
Evasion: 1
Strength: 4
Wisdom: 7
ArcPower: 4
Accuracy: 7
Character special race/ talent: Werewolf
Reducio
The moon’s inclination towards its zenith was for members of the House Hortensia a time of great revelry and rile, in equal parts; although neither would find sate. Revelry and rile cannibalized on themselves until one could not tell how fed the other was, only how empty his plate seemed. When this curse borrowed them, and savage inflicted on maxilla and mandible its exaggerations, Hortensia would raise a toast while their deformities took fast; there wasn’t any stomach for liquor among them, but there was something lastingly human about professing bastion.
Emris carried herself beside the stream’s narrow belt and descended from one level to the next upon its trace, and from the paltry sift of moonglare purples splayed out across the white foam. It brimmed from stone lip to shoal tray before edging into shapeless ebony where the trees became packed dense like sheep in their wools. Snow rationed, her face dimmed with condensation, and at her ankle it made fetters.
“We shouldn’t wander out so far,” Ipomoea insisted dully. She was a patchwork girl of two skins, warm tans meeting pasty ivories to burr and resemble the clustered blood-red pomes of a rowan. Her camouflage baked into her during the summer months when the heat was bad, and she was terribly insecure about it.
Emris frowned— “I’m not keeping you...”—and dismissed her with a flimsy wave like she was a dog.
Kernels of gold light still sowed the pass in meager strips and slowly they diminished.
“It’s late,” she nudged, hobbling down the stream opposite her sister. “And perhaps Uncle Lote can be harsh, but he means well!”
“He’s a very difficult man to read. Closed books become inane when curiosity burns out.”
They went on as they were in silence. Ipomoea fished through her compartments for a brass timepiece and held it with tight security, interjecting with a sudden heave of air. The numerals had mostly degraded over the years and the cheap silver bezel boasted a fair couple dents—memories of previous transformations that still held a grudge.
She clawed at the mouth of her knapsack and undid its leathers hastily, finnicking about elixirs and salves for the one that defined her possession. The House Hortensia brewed its own Wolfsbane; a community of pureblooded therians, certainly one or two had become well studied on this matter. A bulbous flask emerged, bleeding coils of smoke like an old beater engine, and she nervously worked at the cork.
Ipomoea tipped the flask’s rim to the crest of her bottom lip and, to her horror, only a drop of potion amounted.
“What’s the matter with you?” Emris questioned, arching a brow toward her.
The other girl dissolved quickly into a panic.
“H- How is it… empty?” Their branch had been accommodating some traffic this Decembre. Back up the stream, twenty bodies even were cotted around a fire. “I made sure to stock up at the rest, I- I know I did!” One face, she would be reminded of, was among them horribly disfigured. “...That’s where he went off to—” Nineteen was the count she made that previous night when they were filed along the pass like yews. “—But why?”
Some stranger had produced an iniquity on this night in hopes of seducing his rumours of lycanthropes. He was not so out of place as any of the other quiet, unremarkable shadows in a stage of lurk. He presented very idly, his camera joined to his hands, and like a fledgling caster attempted with great exertion on his part to rouse magic from the lens. To fulfill a paracosm that seemed to him an incontestable truth, he spent the last two days patiently. This violence would survive the dullen, monotonous shape of this slope of rock and the village below.
The girls happened across a projection of cliff where the trees broke and the stream veered left. Ipomoea jerked backwards, her face paling when the moon settled high above them.
“You haven’t long,” the rowan rasped. “Find Chorus, h- he’s coming here from abroad. Shouldn’t be far off now, I’d make a wager of. Not with the moon’s bearing.”
Emris ran over and held her steady over the cliff’s brink. “Your memory’s always been dodgy! You should’ve checked your potions earlier!”
She took a step back, then another.
It was unnatural the way her bones disagreed with her anatomy. The way her eyes were glass and seemed to hold the full moon in their gaze like a telescope. Wild crept along her visage and Emris, in his own extensive research of lycanthropy holed up in his room, was mistaken in several details to find that the wolf which thrust its snout to its celestial summoner and let howl some strident delivery bore little reference to his sister. It took stalk of Emris, not entirely present of mind or stature, its joints misconstrued in several places and lost on her the shape of a girl even in modest, and wore itself low to the Earth on four paw-hands. It was offended by his scent, which, although he had forgotten to mask himself, was still to his credit deeply resonant of loam and petrichor.
A shaggy beige coat spread like an infection long across her epidermis, its matted stolons filling the jut angles and sunken pits of reddened flesh to a complement so that outwardly, she appeared unmistakably like a regular wolf.
The air choked in a way that succeeded the seisms of Emris’s chest. The stall of limbs, the draw of nerves and the stay of blood, the flush of colour from every pore, every detail minute and major in conjunction tempting the beast forward.
This was the closest he’d ever been to a transformation, he realized. There’s a reason why his room had bolts, and why those bolts were fashioned on the outside. Padlocks made steel vines, a terminal meant to be interfaced with only by the patriarchs.
He fought back the crippling unease and set off deeper into the bosk at a run that defied his small frame. Snow fell like an Exodus of manna, 40 years worth in 40 seconds, and became increasingly heavy at his feet until again the fetters snapped shut.
"Find Chorus."
Behind him, leaves rustled and trees rifled with agitation. The route diffused, a grainy texture smeared the edges of his vision; His ears churned static noise over; Bitter pine reached his nose. He clutched at his moss-coloured gansey long as solstice which accommodated him like a dress, huffing uncontrollably.
Emris’s body twisted sharply on a root and he came down harshly upon a step of damp earth. He scuttled back on the balls of his elbows, trying to tame the image of his sister, rather than the girl. To conform it. Ipomoea, what was of her mutilation, snarled and lurched forward to impress on Emris its weight commensurate with an english mastiff of full age and a healthy appetite.
Its claws came long in diagonal across his chest. Like rose petals the flesh bloomed outwards, bearing crimson. Again she felt delicate, Emris. Her thoughts swam, and once she cast her line, killed the slack, and reeled up a haul. Her cambium grew up thick layers of hide so that she wouldn’t bleed, but she imagined she’d taste sweet if fruit sprout from her hair. There was something… profoundly human about that salty tang.
A growl from the wolf, a scream from the girl as reality dawned at midnight, an indistinct charm cast from a young man with matted obsidian hair flaked with paper stars, and she fell unconscious.
~
When Emris came to, oranges and purples were dripping from the foliage and a faint brine clung to the air. She rubbed phosphenes of sleep from her eyes and noticed blurrily the first whiskers of a mustache, the cactus pricks of a man recently sheared—Chorus, her very angular, rugged-looking brother, and an animagus who chanced on a wolf shape.
“You’re awake, and thank goodness too, I was getting oh-so lonely!~” he said with a hum. Emris felt her chest and winced preemptively upon finding the carves ever-present, only laced up with magic. She felt tears well, every nerve ache. Her body refused her commands. He noticed, it’s like every paper star on his head was an eye he could see from; angles to prove his delusions. “Ditany and powdered silver, a slog of charms, one or two draughts—”
“—Your voice owes hallow to these woods,” he began again. “It doesn’t have ears, yet miraculously it listens. Every breath you take, it respires with you, like a child that sees and does and is proud.”
"I feel ill. Don't set me down, please... everything hurts. Ha-" Emris tried her lips at the same melody Chorus was humming. What a pleasant morning this was.
Emris carried herself beside the stream’s narrow belt and descended from one level to the next upon its trace, and from the paltry sift of moonglare purples splayed out across the white foam. It brimmed from stone lip to shoal tray before edging into shapeless ebony where the trees became packed dense like sheep in their wools. Snow rationed, her face dimmed with condensation, and at her ankle it made fetters.
“We shouldn’t wander out so far,” Ipomoea insisted dully. She was a patchwork girl of two skins, warm tans meeting pasty ivories to burr and resemble the clustered blood-red pomes of a rowan. Her camouflage baked into her during the summer months when the heat was bad, and she was terribly insecure about it.
Emris frowned— “I’m not keeping you...”—and dismissed her with a flimsy wave like she was a dog.
Kernels of gold light still sowed the pass in meager strips and slowly they diminished.
“It’s late,” she nudged, hobbling down the stream opposite her sister. “And perhaps Uncle Lote can be harsh, but he means well!”
“He’s a very difficult man to read. Closed books become inane when curiosity burns out.”
They went on as they were in silence. Ipomoea fished through her compartments for a brass timepiece and held it with tight security, interjecting with a sudden heave of air. The numerals had mostly degraded over the years and the cheap silver bezel boasted a fair couple dents—memories of previous transformations that still held a grudge.
She clawed at the mouth of her knapsack and undid its leathers hastily, finnicking about elixirs and salves for the one that defined her possession. The House Hortensia brewed its own Wolfsbane; a community of pureblooded therians, certainly one or two had become well studied on this matter. A bulbous flask emerged, bleeding coils of smoke like an old beater engine, and she nervously worked at the cork.
Ipomoea tipped the flask’s rim to the crest of her bottom lip and, to her horror, only a drop of potion amounted.
“What’s the matter with you?” Emris questioned, arching a brow toward her.
The other girl dissolved quickly into a panic.
“H- How is it… empty?” Their branch had been accommodating some traffic this Decembre. Back up the stream, twenty bodies even were cotted around a fire. “I made sure to stock up at the rest, I- I know I did!” One face, she would be reminded of, was among them horribly disfigured. “...That’s where he went off to—” Nineteen was the count she made that previous night when they were filed along the pass like yews. “—But why?”
Some stranger had produced an iniquity on this night in hopes of seducing his rumours of lycanthropes. He was not so out of place as any of the other quiet, unremarkable shadows in a stage of lurk. He presented very idly, his camera joined to his hands, and like a fledgling caster attempted with great exertion on his part to rouse magic from the lens. To fulfill a paracosm that seemed to him an incontestable truth, he spent the last two days patiently. This violence would survive the dullen, monotonous shape of this slope of rock and the village below.
The girls happened across a projection of cliff where the trees broke and the stream veered left. Ipomoea jerked backwards, her face paling when the moon settled high above them.
“You haven’t long,” the rowan rasped. “Find Chorus, h- he’s coming here from abroad. Shouldn’t be far off now, I’d make a wager of. Not with the moon’s bearing.”
Emris ran over and held her steady over the cliff’s brink. “Your memory’s always been dodgy! You should’ve checked your potions earlier!”
She took a step back, then another.
It was unnatural the way her bones disagreed with her anatomy. The way her eyes were glass and seemed to hold the full moon in their gaze like a telescope. Wild crept along her visage and Emris, in his own extensive research of lycanthropy holed up in his room, was mistaken in several details to find that the wolf which thrust its snout to its celestial summoner and let howl some strident delivery bore little reference to his sister. It took stalk of Emris, not entirely present of mind or stature, its joints misconstrued in several places and lost on her the shape of a girl even in modest, and wore itself low to the Earth on four paw-hands. It was offended by his scent, which, although he had forgotten to mask himself, was still to his credit deeply resonant of loam and petrichor.
A shaggy beige coat spread like an infection long across her epidermis, its matted stolons filling the jut angles and sunken pits of reddened flesh to a complement so that outwardly, she appeared unmistakably like a regular wolf.
The air choked in a way that succeeded the seisms of Emris’s chest. The stall of limbs, the draw of nerves and the stay of blood, the flush of colour from every pore, every detail minute and major in conjunction tempting the beast forward.
This was the closest he’d ever been to a transformation, he realized. There’s a reason why his room had bolts, and why those bolts were fashioned on the outside. Padlocks made steel vines, a terminal meant to be interfaced with only by the patriarchs.
He fought back the crippling unease and set off deeper into the bosk at a run that defied his small frame. Snow fell like an Exodus of manna, 40 years worth in 40 seconds, and became increasingly heavy at his feet until again the fetters snapped shut.
"Find Chorus."
Behind him, leaves rustled and trees rifled with agitation. The route diffused, a grainy texture smeared the edges of his vision; His ears churned static noise over; Bitter pine reached his nose. He clutched at his moss-coloured gansey long as solstice which accommodated him like a dress, huffing uncontrollably.
Emris’s body twisted sharply on a root and he came down harshly upon a step of damp earth. He scuttled back on the balls of his elbows, trying to tame the image of his sister, rather than the girl. To conform it. Ipomoea, what was of her mutilation, snarled and lurched forward to impress on Emris its weight commensurate with an english mastiff of full age and a healthy appetite.
Its claws came long in diagonal across his chest. Like rose petals the flesh bloomed outwards, bearing crimson. Again she felt delicate, Emris. Her thoughts swam, and once she cast her line, killed the slack, and reeled up a haul. Her cambium grew up thick layers of hide so that she wouldn’t bleed, but she imagined she’d taste sweet if fruit sprout from her hair. There was something… profoundly human about that salty tang.
A growl from the wolf, a scream from the girl as reality dawned at midnight, an indistinct charm cast from a young man with matted obsidian hair flaked with paper stars, and she fell unconscious.
~
When Emris came to, oranges and purples were dripping from the foliage and a faint brine clung to the air. She rubbed phosphenes of sleep from her eyes and noticed blurrily the first whiskers of a mustache, the cactus pricks of a man recently sheared—Chorus, her very angular, rugged-looking brother, and an animagus who chanced on a wolf shape.
“You’re awake, and thank goodness too, I was getting oh-so lonely!~” he said with a hum. Emris felt her chest and winced preemptively upon finding the carves ever-present, only laced up with magic. She felt tears well, every nerve ache. Her body refused her commands. He noticed, it’s like every paper star on his head was an eye he could see from; angles to prove his delusions. “Ditany and powdered silver, a slog of charms, one or two draughts—”
“—Your voice owes hallow to these woods,” he began again. “It doesn’t have ears, yet miraculously it listens. Every breath you take, it respires with you, like a child that sees and does and is proud.”
"I feel ill. Don't set me down, please... everything hurts. Ha-" Emris tried her lips at the same melody Chorus was humming. What a pleasant morning this was.
Character Backstory:
Reducio
The House Hortensia was a displaced assortment of manors comprising several Pureblood families that kept to themselves in the woods of a quiet mountain. Among them, Emris would come up with nine siblings from the branch Praxa Ailanthus. She spent the vast amount of her time with her lazy brother Buddy, who in his head of yellow hair he wore daffodils and for all of his whining and nagging slept the days into passing. They'd become the bane of any conversation, Hortensia. Every son and daughter would turn eventually, every father and mother, aunt and uncle, and although they'd been spoken into myth, the curse of lycanthropy spread like an infection, dissolving their slope of rock into a kennel without bars at the rise of the full moon. The patriarchs of the community were sticklers for ritual and lycanthropy, for centuries, transitioned into a sort of worship. Safety nets were cast, contingencies were designed, havens mapped, detention facilities erected from stone, and by the time Emris came around, an accident hadn't occurred in so far as anyone could summon the memories of. Like her siblings, she fashioned her own camouflage, dying her hair a dark green and braiding them into vines, matting leaves and sticks, splattering mud. She was self-taught in the art of swaying ever so gracefully in the breeze and appearing remarkably like a tree. Buddy could nest in a bush and deal with the aftermath of bugs, she'd mask her scent and go hunting herself. Her Hogwarts letter was met with terrible silence, then choice words that were thrown around and later regretted, and confusion, because in Hortensia's long history only one or two members had received a letter. People just knew their pack enjoyed its solitude, and usually, people were okay with that; leaving them to their devices meant confining one of the world's largest collections of werewolves to a single mountain.
FIOM:
Reducio
Emris was the youngest. They were brought up and raised to inherit a simple role. They failed to serve their role well, and rather unprompted, her uncle Lote reprimanded her for her outfit instead to pull attention from her mistake; it was embarrassing, if you knew his intention. He was pitying her. Uncle Lote's footfall aimed nearer, his large hand made the set of her shoulders, and in Emris's hurt, she accidentally willed magic into her surroundings and carved gouge marks into the sides of trees. The magic settled with a hum, she churned snow beneath her boots, and even though she only nicked the surface, Uncle Lote was even more severe in the face.
STATUS: Pending, Aiko, July 31
-Please remove the font size under 100 in your trunk
-We'll need more explanation on why only a few members of Emris' family received Hogwarts letters. As pure-bloods, as long as they lived in the UK, they would have attended Hogwarts.
Last edited by Emris Hortensia on 29 Jul 2026, 17:45, edited 1 time in total.
Index Registration
Character name: Amber Craft
School Year or Adult Level: 1st Year
Does any Profile Card info need changing? No
Link to the character page: Link
Character Statistics:
Stamina: 4
Evasion: 7
Strength: 1
Wisdom: 9
Arcane Power: 8
Accuracy: 6
Character Special Race/Talent: Human. No talent for now
Character Backstory:
First Instance of Magic:
School Year or Adult Level: 1st Year
Does any Profile Card info need changing? No
Link to the character page: Link
Character Statistics:
Stamina: 4
Evasion: 7
Strength: 1
Wisdom: 9
Arcane Power: 8
Accuracy: 6
Character Special Race/Talent: Human. No talent for now
Character Backstory:
Reducio
Amber lives in the little village of Oakham in a home made of honey coloured bricks since she was little. She lives with her parents: John Craft, her father, who is a Pure Blood wizard (and a proud Gryffindor!), and her mother, Margot Durand, a French Muggle. Her father is a journalist working for The Daily Prophet. Her mother is an art teacher in a Muggle middle school. Amber has an older sister, Victoria, who is 7 years older than her. Victoria looks more like her dad, with her straight black hair and icy blue eyes, whereas Amber looks like her mother, sharing her hair and eye colour, as well as her smile. The Crafts have a grey cat named Ash. The cat and Amber are close; they spend a lot of time together, Amber reading in her bed or on the living room sofa, Ash purring by her side. The family lives more of a Muggle-style life, as they are mostly surrounded by Muggles in the area and under the will of Margot. Since Victoria went to Hogwarts and practised magic, Margot hoped that Amber was not a witch, fearing to lose her connection with her daughter as the two were quite close. To her mother's deception, Amber is also a witch. Nonetheless, the young girl cares a lot about her Muggle side (contrary to Victoria) and wishes to keep the close connection she has with her mother. They all lived a quite calm life: Victoria going to Hogwarts and coming back for the holidays, Amber going to primary school, Margot working at her school, and John being away from time to time for his job. Amber and her mother spent a lot of time together after school, sometimes being the only ones at home. They would do some arts and crafts together, sharing the same sense of creativity. Amber always loved her father's story about Hogwarts. He would tell the numerous adventures he had in the castle and what it is to be part of Gryffindor. Amber viewed these bedtime stories as mirrors from the books she read, rather than her life. She has always been fascinated by magic, but thought it was more a thing made for people like her dad, or her sister. She always felt more like a Muggle than a witch (surely because of the closeness with her mother and perhaps her lack of self-confidence). When she received her acceptance letter, Amber felt a thrill of excitement, having the opportunity to be immersed in a world full of magic.
First Instance of Magic:
Reducio
A night in winter, Amber, who was 7 and a half, was reading her favourite fairy tale book on the floor of her bedroom. As she was reading, she felt something brush her leg; she didn’t register it as she was fully immersed in the story, and thought that it was her cat. But as she felt something brushing her arm as well, she looked and saw that grass and flowers sprouted from her bedroom floor. She got up immediately. At first, she was mesmerised, but as the plants continued growing, she took fright and fetched her father. As they came back into the room, the flowers and grass already started to disappear, as if time was going backwards and the plants were going into the floor until there was nothing.
STATUS: Approved, Aiko, July 31
Index Registration
Backstorycharacter name ; Jeong Minju
School year or adult level ; Year 1
Does profile card need any changing ? ;none
Link ; Link
Stats :
Stamina ; 6
Evasion; 6
Strength; 4
Wisdom ; 8
Arcane power ; 5
Accuracy; 6
Reducio
Minju was born into the Prestigious House of Jeong , an ancient noble family from South Korea , when she was just two years old her family relocated to London , England after her father , Jeong Min-jun ( Lord Alistair ) accepted a prominent position within the Department of International Magical Corporation . Growing up in a grand townhouse in Central London .
While her father navigated international Ministry politics , her mother Jeong Sun-her ( Lady Genevieve) , managed the household with absolute authority . Though her parents expect nothing short of perfection from minju and her older siblings, Dohyun and Seo-yeon , minju grew close to her sister Seo-yeon , who served as a quiet confidante, while watching her older brother Dohyun set a prestine example as the family heir . Because her family kept their circle tight , Minju rarely grew up with children her own age so hogwarts is the very first time Minju won’t be under a watchful eye of her mother though her siblings remain near by in the castle halls , her brother expecting to act like a lady and not disappointed the family line while she was hear . Her sister on the other hand was a little more calm , she’s the only child in ravenclaw but their parents didn’t disown or do anything due to the fact that she was extremely smart , so under the eyes she tried to stay a perfect lady everywhere she went. .
While her father navigated international Ministry politics , her mother Jeong Sun-her ( Lady Genevieve) , managed the household with absolute authority . Though her parents expect nothing short of perfection from minju and her older siblings, Dohyun and Seo-yeon , minju grew close to her sister Seo-yeon , who served as a quiet confidante, while watching her older brother Dohyun set a prestine example as the family heir . Because her family kept their circle tight , Minju rarely grew up with children her own age so hogwarts is the very first time Minju won’t be under a watchful eye of her mother though her siblings remain near by in the castle halls , her brother expecting to act like a lady and not disappointed the family line while she was hear . Her sister on the other hand was a little more calm , she’s the only child in ravenclaw but their parents didn’t disown or do anything due to the fact that she was extremely smart , so under the eyes she tried to stay a perfect lady everywhere she went. .
FIOM
Reducio
At 7 years old , during a strict etiquette tea at her family’s London, town house , Minju panicked after knocking over a priceless porcelain teacup , before it could shatter on the marble floor , the falling cup froze mid air and floated safely back onto the saucer without spilling a single drop.
STATUS: Pending, Aiko, July 31
-Your stats here add up to 30, and in your trunk add up to 32. Please make sure your post and trunk match, and as a human your stats should equal 35.
-Your backstory must be 220 words.
STATUS: Pending, Aiko, July 31
-Please make sure your stats add up to 35. They currently are 30.
Last edited by Minju Jeong on 4 Aug 2026, 00:44, edited 4 times in total.
Index Registration
Character name (First and last name): Beatrice Beaumont Bittencourt.
School Year or Adult Level: First Year.
Does any Profile Card info need changing? No.
Link to the character page: ★
Character Statistics:
Stamina - 5
Evasion - 6
Strength - 3
Wisdom - 8
Arcane Power - 7
Accuracy - 6
Character Special Race/Talent: N/A.
Character Backstory:
ReducioFirst Instance of Magic:Beatrice Beaumont Bittencourt was born in southern Brazil on 17ᵗʰ of November, 2014. She is an only child.
Her parents are Bianca Bittencourt and Benjamin Beaumont, a Brazilian linguist and a British historian, respectively. Her early childhood in southern Brazil had been peaceful, surrounded by rolling mountains, humid air, and the scent of pine trees. Her parents spoke a blend of Portuguese and English at home, and the family bookshelf was always full thanks to both of their professions. Her mother worked as a translator and language researcher, oftentimes from home, while her father taught British history at a local university.
At the age of five, her father accepted a research position at a British academic institute, prompting the family to move to Bath, Somerset, where they settled closer to his new workplace. Although the move was exciting for her parents, Beatrice found the transition more difficult than expected. Everything around her seemed subtly unfamiliar - the weather, the streets, the customs, and even the way children interacted with one another at school. Beatrice was shy and had trouble making friends at her new school, often waiting for someone else to speak to her first. Although fluent in English, she often felt as though she were just slightly out of place. Her parents were loving and did their best to comfort her, but the feeling still lingered.
Academically, her performance was always steady and average. She didn't stand out as exceptionally gifted, but she never fell behind either, although her anxiety sometimes kept her from speaking up or asking questions when she needed help.Reducio[Where]: Bath, Somerset, England.
[When]: Age 10.
Beatrice had been fiddling with a loose baby tooth for days, too nervous to pull it out, but too distracted to leave it alone until it fell on its own. That night, after brushing her teeth, she stood at the sink, staring at her reflection. Frustrated, she bit her lip and shut her eyes tightly. And then, without warning, the tooth popped out, not falling, but briefly floating in front of her, before softly landing on the edge of the sink.
STATUS: Pending, Aiko, July 31
-Your DOB as a first year must be between 1 September 2014 and 31 August 2015. Please advise if you’d like me to update just your year of birth, or if you’d like to change the day and month as well.
-We need an age at which your first instance of magic took place. This must be between the ages of 3 and 10.
Index Registration
Character name (First and last name): Aurora Scarlett
School Year or Adult Level: First Year
Does any Profile Card info need changing?: No
Link to the character page: Pop!
Character Statistics:
ReducioSTAMINA: 6
EVASION: 5
STRENGTH:4
WISDOM:7
ARCANE POWER:7
ACCURACY: 6
Character Special Race/Talent: N/A
Character Backstory:ReducioScarlett was born on a beautiful sunny day in London, New York. Her mother said it was a very beautiful day and that she would grow up to be incredibly lucky and successful. Her father, Aurora Felíx Dylan, is of British and French descent, and her mother, Wang Hua Yue Xue ( Vương Hoa Tuyết Nguyệt - 风花雪月 ), is of Chinese and Korean descent. Her dad was Slytherin, and her mom was Ravenclaw. Both of Scarlett's parents are tall and well-built, so she inherited all the good qualities from them. She has her father's high nose and fair skin, and her mother's fluffy brown hair and big, round eyes. She can't really remember much about her childhood, she only know that her childhood is not very bad thanks to her parents' love and affection. Scarlett also had a younger sister named Aurora Liliana.
The Dylan’s ( or Aurora, but people usually called its the Dylan ) Mansion is located in London, England. It has a big garden behind, which was used for growing plants as planting is one of SScarlett grew up in a seemingly harmonious family, where her parents deeply loved both her and her sister. Whatever Scarlett had, her sister had as well, and the same was true in return.
Even so, her younger sister was often more adored by others because of her angelic face and bright, constant smile. Scarlett, although also beautiful, was often perceived differently. She was introverted, quiet, and rarely spoke or socialized, which caused some people around her to view her unfavorably. They believed her reserved nature was unsuitable for a family known for its beauty and talent, especially since her parents were both famous and well-respected figures in society, and they feared her silence might bring bad luck.
When Scarlett’s sister was one year old, an argument broke out between them over a teddy bear, resulting in a small scratch on the baby’s face. At the time, their parents were away, and the servants, alarmed and afraid of being reprimanded, scolded Scarlett harshly. They accused her of damaging her sister’s angelic face and, when Scarlett was on the verge of tears, mocked her for looking even uglier when she cried. Although their anger stemmed from worry and fear, those cruel words left a lasting mark on Scarlett. From that moment on, she began to believe that she was useless and only brought trouble to others.
As a result, Scarlett trained herself to communicate carefully, forcing herself to smile so she would not be disliked. She adjusted her behavior constantly to avoid criticism and made a firm decision never to cry or complain about her feelings, fearing that doing so would make her a burden. Even when her parents asked whether she had anything she wished to confide in them, she insisted that she was fine, convinced that speaking up would only cause annoyance or reprimand.
There were times when the weight of unspoken emotions and life’s pressures became overwhelming. During those moments, Scarlett would retreat to a secluded corner of her mother’s garden—a place she had discovered on her own. In the quiet of the garden, she felt calm and at ease, as though all her worries faded away. She often listened to her mother tell stories about magic and dreamed of one day attending Hogwarts, the school her parents had attended in their youth.
As Scarlett grew older, her mother began teaching her foreign languages and mathematics, even though they were considered Muggle subjects, but Scarlett's mother believing them to be both useful and fascinating. Mrs. Yue Xue was popular for being interesting in Muggle's subject and invention. Noticing Scarlett’s strong aptitude for mathematics, she also introduced her to science. In recent years, her parents had become increasingly busy: her father frequently traveled for work, while her mother attended book signings and social events. However, at the end of August, they both returned home to help Scarlett enroll at Hogwarts, marking the beginning of a new chapter in her life.
First Instance of Magic:ReducioWhen Scarlett was two years old, her mother took her for a walk in the park near their house. Her mother sat alone on a park bench reading, while Scarlett played in the children’s playground. As she happily played in the sand, a leaf fell and lightly hit her. Curious and delighted, she turned around and examined the leaf, carefully tracing its veins. Suddenly, the leaf floated in the air, seemingly guided by her small hand. Bewildered yet excited, Scarlett waved her hand playfully, watching as the leaf moved in different directions.
Last edited by Aurora Scarlett on 4 Aug 2026, 03:14, edited 3 times in total.
Index Registration
Character name (First and last name): Atlas Woodrow
School Year or Adult Level: Year one
Does any Profile Card info need changing? No
Link to the character page: Here
Character Statistics:
STAMINA: 8
EVASION: 2
STRENGTH: 4
WISDOM: 6
ARCRANE POWER: 9
ACCURACY: 6
Character Special Race/Talent: None
Character Backstory:
ReducioBorn to Lola and Matthew Woodrow in the small village of Wingham, England, Atlas' very existence was the last straw for his parents' already strained marriage. The boy was hardly four when they divorced and Matthew Woodrow was never to be seen again. Unknown to any muggle but Lola Woodrow, her husband was a wizard; a secret she guarded with hostility, especially to the young and curious Atlas. Mrs. Woodrow deeply resented the wizarding world, believing it was not only the ultimate cause to her estranged relationship with Mr. Woodrow, but bearing magic was simply evil. The absolute last thing she needed was for her only child to be a part of this monstrous community as well. It didn't help that Atlas was quite like his father, even before he began to show signs of magic. Something about his eyes, his curiosity for the world around him, his smile- even the way he walked! Lola wouldn't say she hated the young boy, yet whatever fragment of love she had left for him was buried under her harsh demeanor. Atlas learned to stay quiet and keep to himself. However, for a boy like him, he often didn't, much to the dismay of his mother. He preferred his Grandparents, whom he began to see less and less as he aged, but they were kind enough and tolerated his questions.
Other children usually didn't mind Atlas' chattery mouth and occasional witty remarks. In fact, they found him rather charming and he was quite popular amongst them, much to his surprise. His teachers, however, were a much different story- after all, no teacher likes to deal with a student that just won't shut up.
WC: 280
First Instance of Magic:
ReducioHe must have been about eight years old, getting upset that his mother wouldn't let him have his favorite dessert, the chocolate trifle, for his awful table manners at the dinner table. So, like an immature eight-year-old, he threw a fat tantrum instead of helping mom with the dishes. Unexpectedly, a glass cup resting on the table a few feet away from him shattered. His mother was livid for more reasons than a shattered cup, but sent Atlas to his room without saying anything.
This Autumn in New York
Transforms the slums into Mayfair
Index Registration
Character name (First and last name): Owen Lochridge
School Year or Adult Level: First Year
Does any Profile Card info need changing? yes, please change residence from Cork, Ireland Cushendun, Northern Ireland
Link to the character page:
Character Statistics: (total = 30)
stamina 4
evasion 6
strength 0
wisdom 10
arcane power 0
accuracy 10
Character Special Race/Talent:
Note: My registration date shows 1 Jul 2026 and my first instance of validation was 4 Jul 2026, however, that was during testing of the broken sorting hat ceremony. Owen wasn't formally sorted into Hufflepuff and validated until 7 Jul 2026, so I should be within the 30 day limit to apply for a special race.
School Year or Adult Level: First Year
Does any Profile Card info need changing? yes, please change residence from Cork, Ireland Cushendun, Northern Ireland
Link to the character page:
Character Statistics: (total = 30)
stamina 4
evasion 6
strength 0
wisdom 10
arcane power 0
accuracy 10
Character Special Race/Talent:
seer Reducio
True to her visions, the primary Lochridge branch met downfall as the Witch Trials of the 16th century took hold. Although little was to be feared by muggle accusations and "executions" given the multitudinous means of escaping capture or a truly final fate, there were those pureblood and wizarding families with ambitions of grandeur who cunningly weaponized the trials against their kin. Occasionally masquerading as muggles, such antagonists would quite unexpectedly implement magical fire in place of mundane fire with the addition of anti-apparition charms and other tactics to entrap and eliminate competitors. Such was the fate of the Lochridges of Scotland.
While Ireland experienced some Witch Trials, it was not nearly as prevalent as was the case across the narrow sea. The Ulster Lochridges easily avoided the same grewsome end, instead taking the opportunity to subjugate the locals through subtle use of magic to ease illness, aid construction of settlements, support harvests, and generally improve the means and quality of life of all those who accepted them. There were those who had their suspicions, but as the use of magic was to the benefit of all, it was rarely questioned openly. In the end, it allowed the Lochridges to rise in power, wealth and local influence. And although they did experience their share of trials and tribulations such as with the impact of the Irish Rebellion of 1641, the War of the Three Kingdoms that concluded in the 1650s, and the Williamite War in the late 17th century, they were consistently forewarned and well-prepared to maneuver these hostile circumstances.
Needless-to-say, the Seer's gift wasn't just respected amongst the Ulster Lochridges, it was revered. Within a single generation, it was quietly considered the key to the lineage's past, current, and future success. Marriages and alliances began to center themselves around this ability, each subsequent generation seeking to maintain such intangible knowledge by discriminately selecting matrimonial pairings with others with proven or latent Seer talent. Such efforts generally turned outfavourably, the recessive trait manifesting in at least one child per generation, the generally accepted idea being that the Seeing individual would take on an advisory role for the family. This sometimes functioned as intended; other times, ambition and personal agendas would drive the Seer to undermine the patriarch's efforts, or seize control of the family for themself.
Over time, two disparate philosophies emerged within the Lochridge line: one that held the Seer ability in high regard; the other, reviling it. Depending on the patriarch of a given era, they would either strive to purify the trait, or prune it, fearing contest. Eventually, over the centuries, it seemed as though the latter perspective had won out, the silent intrafamilial war gradually fading from living memory. Complacency settled into place. But the trait lived on, subservient and silent, masked beneath consecutive pairings with more dominant traits. At least until 2014.
Nobody knew that Amelia Blackwell possessed the dormant gene. There had been no known seer in her branch of the Blackwell family for centuries. Upon marriage into the Lochridge family, the age-old conflict would have an opportunity to rise anew. The first-born son to Cainnach and Amelia Lochridge was a stoic sort, proud and diligent with his studies. He does not possess the gift. Their second, however, the young Owen who is soon to embark upon his journey through Hogwarts was fated to receive the ability, though neither they, nor he, are any the wiser. It would still be some years before his first vision manifests, and several more still before his hair begins to pale to a wizened ivory.
But that isn't to say there aren't signs, subtle thought they may be. Shifting to avoid a jinx from his brother just before it's cast... Opening the front door just as the knocker echoes through the manor... Sneaking back into bed just before his parents check in on him at night... Pulling off feats of dexterity and skill that he has no right being able to do... Owen calls it luck. His brother calls it uncanny. But it's not like he can help it. Every now and then, the second son just gets this feeling—a hunch that something is about to happen, or an urge to take action. And for whatever reason, that intuition has seemed to serve him well more often than not, so he has learned to trust his instinct and act on his impulses.
A perfect recipe for the beginning of this new chapter...
Character Backstory: word count: 890 / 500
The gift of prophecy in the Lochridge family harkens back several centuries to the time they first settled in Northern Ireland. It was a witch by the name of Ailsa who foretold of a great shadow that—lest they take heed—would befall the Highlands and blot out the Lochridge name. With her humble roots and questionable bloodline, many in the family thought her opportunistic, that her visions were mere fiction meant to enrapture the Lochridge heir and selfishly secure a place of comfort. Given that, the heir apparent at the time dismissed her and her warnings. His younger brother, however, did not. Taking the warnings to heart and finding himself helplessly captivated by her enigmatic presence, if not by her homely appearance, the second son took her to wed and fled Scotland for the northeastern shores of what came to be known as Ulster, Ireland.True to her visions, the primary Lochridge branch met downfall as the Witch Trials of the 16th century took hold. Although little was to be feared by muggle accusations and "executions" given the multitudinous means of escaping capture or a truly final fate, there were those pureblood and wizarding families with ambitions of grandeur who cunningly weaponized the trials against their kin. Occasionally masquerading as muggles, such antagonists would quite unexpectedly implement magical fire in place of mundane fire with the addition of anti-apparition charms and other tactics to entrap and eliminate competitors. Such was the fate of the Lochridges of Scotland.
While Ireland experienced some Witch Trials, it was not nearly as prevalent as was the case across the narrow sea. The Ulster Lochridges easily avoided the same grewsome end, instead taking the opportunity to subjugate the locals through subtle use of magic to ease illness, aid construction of settlements, support harvests, and generally improve the means and quality of life of all those who accepted them. There were those who had their suspicions, but as the use of magic was to the benefit of all, it was rarely questioned openly. In the end, it allowed the Lochridges to rise in power, wealth and local influence. And although they did experience their share of trials and tribulations such as with the impact of the Irish Rebellion of 1641, the War of the Three Kingdoms that concluded in the 1650s, and the Williamite War in the late 17th century, they were consistently forewarned and well-prepared to maneuver these hostile circumstances.
Needless-to-say, the Seer's gift wasn't just respected amongst the Ulster Lochridges, it was revered. Within a single generation, it was quietly considered the key to the lineage's past, current, and future success. Marriages and alliances began to center themselves around this ability, each subsequent generation seeking to maintain such intangible knowledge by discriminately selecting matrimonial pairings with others with proven or latent Seer talent. Such efforts generally turned outfavourably, the recessive trait manifesting in at least one child per generation, the generally accepted idea being that the Seeing individual would take on an advisory role for the family. This sometimes functioned as intended; other times, ambition and personal agendas would drive the Seer to undermine the patriarch's efforts, or seize control of the family for themself.
Over time, two disparate philosophies emerged within the Lochridge line: one that held the Seer ability in high regard; the other, reviling it. Depending on the patriarch of a given era, they would either strive to purify the trait, or prune it, fearing contest. Eventually, over the centuries, it seemed as though the latter perspective had won out, the silent intrafamilial war gradually fading from living memory. Complacency settled into place. But the trait lived on, subservient and silent, masked beneath consecutive pairings with more dominant traits. At least until 2014.
Nobody knew that Amelia Blackwell possessed the dormant gene. There had been no known seer in her branch of the Blackwell family for centuries. Upon marriage into the Lochridge family, the age-old conflict would have an opportunity to rise anew. The first-born son to Cainnach and Amelia Lochridge was a stoic sort, proud and diligent with his studies. He does not possess the gift. Their second, however, the young Owen who is soon to embark upon his journey through Hogwarts was fated to receive the ability, though neither they, nor he, are any the wiser. It would still be some years before his first vision manifests, and several more still before his hair begins to pale to a wizened ivory.
But that isn't to say there aren't signs, subtle thought they may be. Shifting to avoid a jinx from his brother just before it's cast... Opening the front door just as the knocker echoes through the manor... Sneaking back into bed just before his parents check in on him at night... Pulling off feats of dexterity and skill that he has no right being able to do... Owen calls it luck. His brother calls it uncanny. But it's not like he can help it. Every now and then, the second son just gets this feeling—a hunch that something is about to happen, or an urge to take action. And for whatever reason, that intuition has seemed to serve him well more often than not, so he has learned to trust his instinct and act on his impulses.
A perfect recipe for the beginning of this new chapter...
Reducio
While not neglected, as a certain standard must be maintained for all the Lochridge children, neither does he experience much oversight. In a way, that has led to a rather easy upbringing. Independence and a thirst for adventure thrived, filling that emotional distance, and Owen found that he could quite easily get away with many an action in a way that his older brother could not. There is no expectation, no pressure. He is free to pursue his interests and recess, to let his mind wander between fiction and reality. On the other hand, there is no expectation. The shadow of his brother's accomplishments looms ever darker, threatening to drown Owen's existence as forgettable. While he may not yet recognize it, the seeds of jealousy and insecurity have been sown by his parent's preferential treatment and attention towards his elder brother.
As a sort of self-protective measure, it has meant that Owen has always preferred the company of his younger sister. Of course, that could also have been due to how close they were in age. Born a year and a half after him, Laoise took quickly to Owen. The two of them spent many years playing and painting and reading together. They kept out of the way of their busy parents and prodigy brother, and kept each other company. Kept. Past tense. A number of years had passed since Laoise's passing, but there were days when Owen awoke half-expecting her to still be there. But Laoise was no longer with them. Yet he could never quite get rid of a strange nagging feeling, and the dreams he continues to have of her seem so real...
First Instance of Magic:word count: 447 / 220
Owen was a second son born to Cainnech and Amelia (née Blackwell) Lochridge on a cold December morning in 2014. Widely known for their family business of the production of Lochridge Lager, the Lochridge family sits comfortably in the lower upper-class bracket of Pureblood society. As such, Owen has enjoyed the benefits and privileges of this status; he has never wanted for anything, and has enjoyed many opportunities for private tutelage for early childhood education and hobbies. That said, he has not really demonstrated any particular knack for anything. Anrai, the first-born son and three years Owen's senior, is the jewel of the family. Tall, clever, and dedicated to his studies, he is everything a family could want in an heir. Moreover, he seems keen to learn about the family business with the intent to eventually take over as the patriarch in some distant future, and so their parents are content to pour the great majority of their attention and time upon him. In doing so, Owen is often left to the side. While not neglected, as a certain standard must be maintained for all the Lochridge children, neither does he experience much oversight. In a way, that has led to a rather easy upbringing. Independence and a thirst for adventure thrived, filling that emotional distance, and Owen found that he could quite easily get away with many an action in a way that his older brother could not. There is no expectation, no pressure. He is free to pursue his interests and recess, to let his mind wander between fiction and reality. On the other hand, there is no expectation. The shadow of his brother's accomplishments looms ever darker, threatening to drown Owen's existence as forgettable. While he may not yet recognize it, the seeds of jealousy and insecurity have been sown by his parent's preferential treatment and attention towards his elder brother.
As a sort of self-protective measure, it has meant that Owen has always preferred the company of his younger sister. Of course, that could also have been due to how close they were in age. Born a year and a half after him, Laoise took quickly to Owen. The two of them spent many years playing and painting and reading together. They kept out of the way of their busy parents and prodigy brother, and kept each other company. Kept. Past tense. A number of years had passed since Laoise's passing, but there were days when Owen awoke half-expecting her to still be there. But Laoise was no longer with them. Yet he could never quite get rid of a strange nagging feeling, and the dreams he continues to have of her seem so real...
* * *
ooc note: Laoise is alive, the plan being for her to be my iNPC next year. The plot is in conjunction with the family of @Marshal Mozor's new iNPC. We're still working out the specific details, but the general plan involves an illness (e.g. contracting ectomplasmic lock after playing around in a nearby abandoned ruin) that would gradually progress and eventually result in Laoise's death. To spare her, their mother takes her to the Blackwell estate nearby, imploring her kin's wife—a known vampire—in desperation to turn her daughter in order to save her. Given the local mistrust of vampires and their ilk, as well as her husband's specific disdain, this would have been kept hidden. Instead, Laoise, now a dhampir, would be sent to stay with more accepting extended family out East. Reducio
Owen's magic manifested at quite a young age. It was on his third birthday, in fact, that Owen was enjoying a bath in preparation for later festivities. He'd always been rather fond of water. Whether it was racing around in the rain, splashing in puddles, or swimming in the sea, it mattered not; he would enjoy the moment to its fullest. So whenever bath time presented, it came as no surprise that he enjoyed that too.
Under normal circumstances, he was permitted to play until his skin prickled with gooseflesh and the water went cold. On this occasion, however, he was rushed through the process to prepare for the party. Well, that didn't sit well with him at all. The waterworks that started when his mother attempted to pull him from the tub got quickly out of hand. The more she tried, the greater his distress. And oddly, the more difficult it became. As though rising to a call for aid, the bubbles in the tub seemed to multiply and grow in size.
Soon enough, the bubbles spilled over the tub as Owen thrashed and squirmed, rolling across the floor. Yes... rolling. Upon contact with a surface, they did not pop. And soon enough, they piled up, pressing up against his mother and himself, filling the tub and then the bathroom entirely, and ultimately pushing both a very exasperated mother and a now laughing and astonished Owen all the way out into the hall.
Under normal circumstances, he was permitted to play until his skin prickled with gooseflesh and the water went cold. On this occasion, however, he was rushed through the process to prepare for the party. Well, that didn't sit well with him at all. The waterworks that started when his mother attempted to pull him from the tub got quickly out of hand. The more she tried, the greater his distress. And oddly, the more difficult it became. As though rising to a call for aid, the bubbles in the tub seemed to multiply and grow in size.
Soon enough, the bubbles spilled over the tub as Owen thrashed and squirmed, rolling across the floor. Yes... rolling. Upon contact with a surface, they did not pop. And soon enough, they piled up, pressing up against his mother and himself, filling the tub and then the bathroom entirely, and ultimately pushing both a very exasperated mother and a now laughing and astonished Owen all the way out into the hall.
Note: My registration date shows 1 Jul 2026 and my first instance of validation was 4 Jul 2026, however, that was during testing of the broken sorting hat ceremony. Owen wasn't formally sorted into Hufflepuff and validated until 7 Jul 2026, so I should be within the 30 day limit to apply for a special race.