Koldovstoretz NPC
Name: Marcel Cvitković
PC Name: Charlotte Winfield
Year: 2nd year
Link to your Character Page: Here
Status: Half-Blood (Metamorphmagus)
Residence: Murmansk, Russia
Nationality: Croatian (PRP)
History:
A week before Marcel’s birth, his father disappeared. It had been a quiet day in that small emergency room, looking out over the expansive Adriatic Sea in Rovinj, but Klara Cvitković had summoned just enough courage to bring her son into the world, and with that last push it seemed all the hope was drained out of her and spread onto her one son.
Immediately after Marcel's birth, Klara fell into a deep depression. Barely able to take care of him, she was forced by her mother and father to move back in with them in Stari Grad. In a quaint family house just a small walk from the water, Marcel was quietly raised. His grandfather, a fisherman, spent early mornings out at sea, while his grandmother stayed home and kept the old house from falling apart. His mother was rarely home, often picking up various odd-jobs around town or hiding away at the bar until sunrise.
Early on, Marcel learned that there was very little he couldn't get away with. When he wanted to go out, he would go out. When he wanted to stay in, he stayed in. He could sleep when he wanted to, play when he wanted to, no matter the time of day. Oftentimes he would find himself stumbling down to the harbor and watching for fish, his nose just inches away from the cool surface.
He spent very little time engaging with the other children in town, though the island left very little space for solitude. Hidden in the shade of an olive tree, tucked behind the schoolhouse with a book, or, more often, encased in the comfort of his bed. Another thing he learned quite early was that his looks could be quite the weapon. Adults found him cute as a button. His female peers found him hopelessly attractive. Boys found him comically feminine. The older he got, the more comfortable he was using his beauty to get what he wanted.
At age 9, Marcel met his father. A lazy Saturday morning had been quickly derailed by a ferocious knock at the door, followed by a terse, emotional conversation between his grandmother and a strange man whose voice he didn’t recognize. Only a moment later, a man who looked strangely similar to him came marching in. The revelation that this strange man was actually his father, and had returned to connect the boy with his magical roots, sent Marcel’s life spiraling off-course.
There were exactly three days in-between the coming and the going, three days his father camped out at the hotel a few blocks down. He would come in the mornings to take Klara away, and they would walk the waterfront, chatting in low, angry voices. Marcel would watch from his bedroom window. It was the third day that Klara gave a tight nod and let her head fall in her hands. This was a relent. Giving her son away to his roots. And it had only taken her three days.
It was unclear to the boy, at least at first, that the few days he had spent packing and preparing to leave home would be his last ever seeing his mother and grandparents. It wasn’t until he was long off the island, interspersed with his father’s rich descriptions of distant fields and honor, that he discovered how wizards viewed nonmagi. This was when they came to Russia.
For one month, Marcel’s father worked tirelessly to educate his son on a small life’s worth of magical knowledge. He demonstrated elaborate spells Marcel had only dreamt of before, read him endless books on wizarding history. And still, Marcel rebelled. He would sneak away from lessons to lounge on the back deck, tuck the pages of old classics into his study books, do anything he could to remind his father of the betrayal he brought on by abandoning his family.
Despite nearly 10 years of living a nonmagi life, blissfully unaware of the wizarding world and his magical blood, Marcel was swept away by his father to attend Koldovstoretz.
After this day, Marcel developed a deep resentment for wizardry. He still attended Koldovstoretz per his father’s demand, but his commitment to a magical education was loose. He immediately gained a reputation for being notably lazy and uncaring, an unfamiliar experience for the boy who had once been so highly regarded by his peers.
First Magic:
At age 4, Marcel experienced his first encounter with magic. Klara had been convinced by her mother to take the small boy down to the beach for the evening, and she had promptly set up a towel on the sand and drifted off. Marcel, bored by his mother’s inactivity, wandered off into the water. The water stayed shallow for a ways, only reaching so far as his chin. Suddenly, though, he reached a drop-off, plummeting into the deep dark below. He clawed violently at the surface, unable to keep his little head above the water, when suddenly, a strong wind passed through. The current carried Marcel all the way back to the beach, before the water settled back as it was.
Is your character a Quidditch player/Broomracer/Duelist? Quidditch (chaser)
Stats:
STAMINA: 7
EVASION: 10
STRENGTH: 5
WISDOM: 3
ARCANE POWER: 0
ACCURACY: 10
Special Race/Ability:
Metamorphmagus
If special race/ability, how did they join the school? Marcel was allowed in on the strict instruction that he would not use his abilities to mimic other students for nefarious gain. His father was able to make a case for him as well, claiming that Marcel was well-trained and would not cause any trouble. This was, of course, a fabrication, but accurate enough to allow Marcel proper entry.
PC Name: Charlotte Winfield
Year: 2nd year
Link to your Character Page: Here
Status: Half-Blood (Metamorphmagus)
Residence: Murmansk, Russia
Nationality: Croatian (PRP)
History:
A week before Marcel’s birth, his father disappeared. It had been a quiet day in that small emergency room, looking out over the expansive Adriatic Sea in Rovinj, but Klara Cvitković had summoned just enough courage to bring her son into the world, and with that last push it seemed all the hope was drained out of her and spread onto her one son.
Immediately after Marcel's birth, Klara fell into a deep depression. Barely able to take care of him, she was forced by her mother and father to move back in with them in Stari Grad. In a quaint family house just a small walk from the water, Marcel was quietly raised. His grandfather, a fisherman, spent early mornings out at sea, while his grandmother stayed home and kept the old house from falling apart. His mother was rarely home, often picking up various odd-jobs around town or hiding away at the bar until sunrise.
Early on, Marcel learned that there was very little he couldn't get away with. When he wanted to go out, he would go out. When he wanted to stay in, he stayed in. He could sleep when he wanted to, play when he wanted to, no matter the time of day. Oftentimes he would find himself stumbling down to the harbor and watching for fish, his nose just inches away from the cool surface.
He spent very little time engaging with the other children in town, though the island left very little space for solitude. Hidden in the shade of an olive tree, tucked behind the schoolhouse with a book, or, more often, encased in the comfort of his bed. Another thing he learned quite early was that his looks could be quite the weapon. Adults found him cute as a button. His female peers found him hopelessly attractive. Boys found him comically feminine. The older he got, the more comfortable he was using his beauty to get what he wanted.
At age 9, Marcel met his father. A lazy Saturday morning had been quickly derailed by a ferocious knock at the door, followed by a terse, emotional conversation between his grandmother and a strange man whose voice he didn’t recognize. Only a moment later, a man who looked strangely similar to him came marching in. The revelation that this strange man was actually his father, and had returned to connect the boy with his magical roots, sent Marcel’s life spiraling off-course.
There were exactly three days in-between the coming and the going, three days his father camped out at the hotel a few blocks down. He would come in the mornings to take Klara away, and they would walk the waterfront, chatting in low, angry voices. Marcel would watch from his bedroom window. It was the third day that Klara gave a tight nod and let her head fall in her hands. This was a relent. Giving her son away to his roots. And it had only taken her three days.
It was unclear to the boy, at least at first, that the few days he had spent packing and preparing to leave home would be his last ever seeing his mother and grandparents. It wasn’t until he was long off the island, interspersed with his father’s rich descriptions of distant fields and honor, that he discovered how wizards viewed nonmagi. This was when they came to Russia.
For one month, Marcel’s father worked tirelessly to educate his son on a small life’s worth of magical knowledge. He demonstrated elaborate spells Marcel had only dreamt of before, read him endless books on wizarding history. And still, Marcel rebelled. He would sneak away from lessons to lounge on the back deck, tuck the pages of old classics into his study books, do anything he could to remind his father of the betrayal he brought on by abandoning his family.
Despite nearly 10 years of living a nonmagi life, blissfully unaware of the wizarding world and his magical blood, Marcel was swept away by his father to attend Koldovstoretz.
After this day, Marcel developed a deep resentment for wizardry. He still attended Koldovstoretz per his father’s demand, but his commitment to a magical education was loose. He immediately gained a reputation for being notably lazy and uncaring, an unfamiliar experience for the boy who had once been so highly regarded by his peers.
First Magic:
At age 4, Marcel experienced his first encounter with magic. Klara had been convinced by her mother to take the small boy down to the beach for the evening, and she had promptly set up a towel on the sand and drifted off. Marcel, bored by his mother’s inactivity, wandered off into the water. The water stayed shallow for a ways, only reaching so far as his chin. Suddenly, though, he reached a drop-off, plummeting into the deep dark below. He clawed violently at the surface, unable to keep his little head above the water, when suddenly, a strong wind passed through. The current carried Marcel all the way back to the beach, before the water settled back as it was.
Is your character a Quidditch player/Broomracer/Duelist? Quidditch (chaser)
Stats:
STAMINA: 7
EVASION: 10
STRENGTH: 5
WISDOM: 3
ARCANE POWER: 0
ACCURACY: 10
Special Race/Ability:
Metamorphmagus
Reducio
Marcel was never the same. Not by his eyes, his ears, not by the thrum of his beating heart. He was different in all ways, at all times, though no one seemed to notice. They weren’t looking close enough. But it was there, in his mind and, more often, on his face.
The root of Marcel’s peculiarity came long before he learned he was a wizard, though it manifested in ways that were not so clear to others. Perhaps one day he would arrive to class with dark auburn hair, and the next day it would shift to a warm caramel. It was nearly imperceptible, this change, and consistent enough that it could almost be passed off as a quirk in pigmentation. He was odd, after all. Odd people did odd things, looked odd.
Marcel did not remember much of his infancy, as typical for a growing boy, and his mother was adamant on keeping it that way. He would often pester her to share stories from his youth, before memories had begun forming from emotion. But his mother would shrug him away, telling him to leave it to his imagination. Marcel did not know why she kept this secret. Not until the changes became harder to ignore.
It was one trait in particular that had begun to go rogue. His eyes. At age 5 he had grown prone to nightmares, waking up with a scream in a pool of his own cold sweat. Some nights were worse than others. One night was the worst. He had awoken unable to move, tethered to his mattress, staring up at the moonlit ceiling. His chest felt weighed down by some unseen force, each breath caught short and stolen from his lungs. When he finally gained control of his limbs, he began to cry. His grandmother was the one who came.
She took him off to the bathroom, hushing him tiredly. Once they had made it down the hall and into the cramped restroom, she flicked on the light and began wetting a washcloth. That was when Marcel caught sight of his face in the mirror. His eyes.
They had flushed a violent shade of purple, pupils dilated despite the light. It had shocked him out of his fear, and as he brought up a hand to feel the soft skin below his eye, his natural color began bleeding back in. There was no explanation for it, aside from perhaps his own wild imagination. By the time his grandmother had begun gently patting his face with a cold washcloth, mumbling about the hour and his childish fears, his eyes were back to normal.
This was the first time Marcel had truly seen the depth of his innate quirk, but it was not the last.
When his father returned home, he was the first to understand. In Marcel’s anger at the revelation of his father’s absence, he had stormed off to his room. When he returned, his father had looked at him as though he were a stranger. Then, he had come close to the boy, pulled down at his cheek, and examined Marcel’s eye. It had turned dark red. All of it.
Klara began shouting her defense. It was the first time Marcel had ever heard of his infancy. She spoke of pink skin and yellow hair, oddities she had shielded from both her parents and Marcel’s father. Marcel was not quite human, not in the way he ought to be, and Klara had known. All those years, she had known.
The root of Marcel’s peculiarity came long before he learned he was a wizard, though it manifested in ways that were not so clear to others. Perhaps one day he would arrive to class with dark auburn hair, and the next day it would shift to a warm caramel. It was nearly imperceptible, this change, and consistent enough that it could almost be passed off as a quirk in pigmentation. He was odd, after all. Odd people did odd things, looked odd.
Marcel did not remember much of his infancy, as typical for a growing boy, and his mother was adamant on keeping it that way. He would often pester her to share stories from his youth, before memories had begun forming from emotion. But his mother would shrug him away, telling him to leave it to his imagination. Marcel did not know why she kept this secret. Not until the changes became harder to ignore.
It was one trait in particular that had begun to go rogue. His eyes. At age 5 he had grown prone to nightmares, waking up with a scream in a pool of his own cold sweat. Some nights were worse than others. One night was the worst. He had awoken unable to move, tethered to his mattress, staring up at the moonlit ceiling. His chest felt weighed down by some unseen force, each breath caught short and stolen from his lungs. When he finally gained control of his limbs, he began to cry. His grandmother was the one who came.
She took him off to the bathroom, hushing him tiredly. Once they had made it down the hall and into the cramped restroom, she flicked on the light and began wetting a washcloth. That was when Marcel caught sight of his face in the mirror. His eyes.
They had flushed a violent shade of purple, pupils dilated despite the light. It had shocked him out of his fear, and as he brought up a hand to feel the soft skin below his eye, his natural color began bleeding back in. There was no explanation for it, aside from perhaps his own wild imagination. By the time his grandmother had begun gently patting his face with a cold washcloth, mumbling about the hour and his childish fears, his eyes were back to normal.
This was the first time Marcel had truly seen the depth of his innate quirk, but it was not the last.
When his father returned home, he was the first to understand. In Marcel’s anger at the revelation of his father’s absence, he had stormed off to his room. When he returned, his father had looked at him as though he were a stranger. Then, he had come close to the boy, pulled down at his cheek, and examined Marcel’s eye. It had turned dark red. All of it.
Klara began shouting her defense. It was the first time Marcel had ever heard of his infancy. She spoke of pink skin and yellow hair, oddities she had shielded from both her parents and Marcel’s father. Marcel was not quite human, not in the way he ought to be, and Klara had known. All those years, she had known.
If special race/ability, how did they join the school? Marcel was allowed in on the strict instruction that he would not use his abilities to mimic other students for nefarious gain. His father was able to make a case for him as well, claiming that Marcel was well-trained and would not cause any trouble. This was, of course, a fabrication, but accurate enough to allow Marcel proper entry.
STATUS: Pending, Santiago, 28/5/26
Reasons for pending:
-Please remove colors from trunk.
- Metamorphmagus is an ability and won't affect blood-status.
- You may want to clarify the custody/legal situation here, since the father taking him to Russia can read as abduction without additional context.
STATUS: Pending, Santiago, 28/5/26
Reasons for pending:
- Make sure the edits are reflected in his ency as well.
STATUS: Approved, Santiago, 28/5/26
| ✦"You better start walking. Love takes miles."✦ STA 8 │ EVA 8 │ STR 6 │ WIS 6 │ ARC 6 │ ACC 7 |
Koldovstoretz NPC
Name: Ilya Voronov
PC Name: Mamori Anezaki
Year: 2nd
Link to your Character Page: [clickety click]
Status: Pureblood
Residence: Veliky Novgorod, Russian Federation
Nationality: Russian
History:
First Magic:
Is your character a Quidditch player/Broomracer/Duelist? Yes, Quidditch (Chaser)
Stats: STA - 10 EVA - 10 STR - 0 WIS - 10 ARC - 0 ACC - 10
Special Race/Ability: N/A
If special race/ability, how did they join the school? N/A
PC Name: Mamori Anezaki
Year: 2nd
Link to your Character Page: [clickety click]
Status: Pureblood
Residence: Veliky Novgorod, Russian Federation
Nationality: Russian
History:
Reducio
Based in Veliky Novgorod, the Voronov family has maintained its status and its pure bloodline for eight centuries. Ilya Konstantinovich Voronov is the fourthborn of the current patriarch. In a family of this size, parental attention is a finite resource that has never once been distributed evenly in the history of human parenting; our unfortunate boy Ilya had not only lost the birth-order lottery, but had done so while being unremarkably average. He had none of his eldest brother's authority, none of his second sister's charisma, and none of his third brother's raw talent; whatever remained of his parents' regard had also been thoroughly absorbed by his youngest brother, who was coddled by every member of the household down to the house-elves.
For all practical purposes, Ilya was the superfluous one. Лишний человек.
Nobody could legally sue the Voronovs for child neglect, as Ilya had been very well taken care of materially — he had a massive bedroom, private tutors, and a butler who would procure him anything if Ilya harassed him enough times. But he had grown up entirely within this world and had no frame of reference outside of it, so the idea that he was privileged never quite registered. What he did notice eventually was whether he registered at all... the answer was mostly "no".
If he threw a tantrum for attention, it was ignored; if he stayed quiet, it was a relief to a busy household. Any practical need or inconvenience was so efficiently absorbed by the servants that it never needed to travel up to his parents’ ears. Even at the family dinner table when the children were expected to recount the day's accomplishments, his contributions never measured up to those of his siblings, thus earning him no praise. Ilya quickly realized that competing with his siblings for attention was simply pointless, so he gave up and withdrew into the background, ending in a state of learned helplessness, asking for nothing and offering nothing.
As for Koldovstoretz over Durmstrang... his older siblings all went to the latter so he'd rather not.
For all practical purposes, Ilya was the superfluous one. Лишний человек.
Nobody could legally sue the Voronovs for child neglect, as Ilya had been very well taken care of materially — he had a massive bedroom, private tutors, and a butler who would procure him anything if Ilya harassed him enough times. But he had grown up entirely within this world and had no frame of reference outside of it, so the idea that he was privileged never quite registered. What he did notice eventually was whether he registered at all... the answer was mostly "no".
If he threw a tantrum for attention, it was ignored; if he stayed quiet, it was a relief to a busy household. Any practical need or inconvenience was so efficiently absorbed by the servants that it never needed to travel up to his parents’ ears. Even at the family dinner table when the children were expected to recount the day's accomplishments, his contributions never measured up to those of his siblings, thus earning him no praise. Ilya quickly realized that competing with his siblings for attention was simply pointless, so he gave up and withdrew into the background, ending in a state of learned helplessness, asking for nothing and offering nothing.
As for Koldovstoretz over Durmstrang... his older siblings all went to the latter so he'd rather not.
First Magic:
Reducio
At nine years old, Ilya's first instance of accidental magic went entirely unnoticed. He had been sitting alone in an unused room feeling uncomfortably warm when a rusted window, stuck for years, simply slid open. When he mentioned it to his parents, they agreed it was likely magic and quickly changed the subject. Ilya went back to the room, and the window stayed open.
Is your character a Quidditch player/Broomracer/Duelist? Yes, Quidditch (Chaser)
Stats: STA - 10 EVA - 10 STR - 0 WIS - 10 ARC - 0 ACC - 10
Special Race/Ability: N/A
If special race/ability, how did they join the school? N/A
STATUS: Pending, Hadrian, 15 June
Please include Ilya's basic information in his ency. While I understand that some of this information is already included in the title, it should also be listed within the post itself.
Please include his full name, school, and current school year.
STATUS: Approved, Hadrian, 15 June
| iNPC: Ilya Voronov |
|
#D2445E |
Koldovstoretz NPC
Name: Kaiming Zhang
PC Name: Amethyst Castillo
Year: First
Link to your Character Page: beep!
Status: Halfblood
Residence: Beijing, China
Nationality: Chinese
History:
First Magic:
Is your character a Quidditch player/Broomracer/Duelist? Yes, Quidditch player [Keeper]
Stats: Sta - 8 Eva - 8 Str - 3 Wis - 6 Arc - 2 Acc - 8
Special Race/Ability: N/A
If special race/ability, how did they join the school? N/A
PC Name: Amethyst Castillo
Year: First
Link to your Character Page: beep!
Status: Halfblood
Residence: Beijing, China
Nationality: Chinese
History:
Reducio
Zhang Kaiming was born to Zhuo Xin Kē and Zhang Jiā ān on a rather pleasant evening of
30 January 2015, at 9:12 pm.
His parents came from vastly different backgrounds. His mother was a muggle, while his father belongs
to the Zhang family, a prestigious pure-blood wizarding lineage based in Europe. Jiā ān spent his childhood in the grand Zhang mansion and later attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he was sorted into Gryffindor, following a long-standing family tradition.
A fortunate business trip in China made him cross paths with Xin Kē, whom he fell in love with immediately. Though she did not return his feelings at first, Jiā ān pursued her tirelessly until she eventually confessed that she too was in love.
Marriage was not delayed, and 2 years later they were blessed by a healthy baby boy.
From a very young age, Kaiming showed an unusual fascination with computers and technology,
perhaps inheriting from his mother, who works as an R&D engineer at Huawei. However, this was something that displeased his paternal grandparents. Concerned that their grandson was neglecting his magical heritage, they proposed taking him to England so he could become more immersed in the wizarding world.
Before his parents could consider the proposal, Kaiming erupted into a tantrum upon hearing it. His refusal was so fierce and unwavering that the plan had to be abandoned. It became clear he had no intention of leaving China behind.
The half-blood thus grew up attending an international school, becoming fluent in Mandarin and reasonably proficient in English. While he remained far more interested in the Muggle world than
magic, he loved hearing bits and pieces of the wizarding world from his father, who often spoke fondly
of his adventures at Hogwarts.
30 January 2015, at 9:12 pm.
His parents came from vastly different backgrounds. His mother was a muggle, while his father belongs
to the Zhang family, a prestigious pure-blood wizarding lineage based in Europe. Jiā ān spent his childhood in the grand Zhang mansion and later attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he was sorted into Gryffindor, following a long-standing family tradition.
A fortunate business trip in China made him cross paths with Xin Kē, whom he fell in love with immediately. Though she did not return his feelings at first, Jiā ān pursued her tirelessly until she eventually confessed that she too was in love.
Marriage was not delayed, and 2 years later they were blessed by a healthy baby boy.
From a very young age, Kaiming showed an unusual fascination with computers and technology,
perhaps inheriting from his mother, who works as an R&D engineer at Huawei. However, this was something that displeased his paternal grandparents. Concerned that their grandson was neglecting his magical heritage, they proposed taking him to England so he could become more immersed in the wizarding world.
Before his parents could consider the proposal, Kaiming erupted into a tantrum upon hearing it. His refusal was so fierce and unwavering that the plan had to be abandoned. It became clear he had no intention of leaving China behind.
The half-blood thus grew up attending an international school, becoming fluent in Mandarin and reasonably proficient in English. While he remained far more interested in the Muggle world than
magic, he loved hearing bits and pieces of the wizarding world from his father, who often spoke fondly
of his adventures at Hogwarts.
First Magic:
Reducio
A 5-year-old Kaiming, on a visit to his maternal grandparents, finds a relatively taller tree that bore colourful fruits. Several attempts are thus made to climb the tree, all fruitless. His small, chubby hands were unable to grip the bark of the tree properly. Mysteriously the tree toppled over on its own, and a young Kaiming ran around it to collect its fruits. His parents would later find him, all covered in dirt and his small arms filled with fruits. The boy would then point out the tree innocently, insisting the 'tree lay down on its own, for it was tired'. His father would then suspect his son's accidental magic had made its first appearance, and his mother would hug him, grateful that he was safe.
Is your character a Quidditch player/Broomracer/Duelist? Yes, Quidditch player [Keeper]
Stats: Sta - 8 Eva - 8 Str - 3 Wis - 6 Arc - 2 Acc - 8
Special Race/Ability: N/A
If special race/ability, how did they join the school? N/A
STATUS: Pending, Arkady, 28 JUNE 26
- Looking good! Please just remove the transparent coloured text from your trunk
- Also to clarify, as graduation is happening at the end of June and your character's birthday is in January 2015, this would put him in the NEXT group of first years. He will not be validated as a first year and then graduate into a second year. If that's ok with you, don't worry about editing his birthday or anything, just making sure.
EDITS: required edits done, Amethyst
1) Trunk edits are done! I removed the transparent coloured text!
2) I also intend to make Kaiming a first year in the session of 2026-27, so I am fine with it!