NPC Name: Cassie Heather McGregor-Martin
Link: viewtopic.php?f=314&t=16976#p269483
Year: Fourth
Stats:

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Stamina | 10
Evasion | 12 (increased from 11 due to duelling win)
Strength | 10
Wisdom | 7
Arcane Power | 4
Accuracy | 11
Total | 54
[50 (year 4) +3 (duelling wins 1, 2, 3) +1 (broom racing win)]

Abilities: no changes
Extracurricular: still a broom racer
Content Changes: n/a
Trunk Coding:

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[quote][table][tr][td][table][tr][td][quote][img]/images/upload/bdhw9t.webp[/img][/quote][/td][td][quote][img]/images/upload/6pa6vw.webp[/img][/quote][/td][/tr][tr][td][quote][img]/images/upload/0ujts7.webp[/img][/quote][/td][td][quote][img]/images/upload/3aj26s.webp[/img][/quote][/td][/tr][/table][/td][td][quote][img]/images/upload/bcb8rn.webp[/img][/quote][/td][/tr][/table][quote][center][size=90]Stamina | 10
Evasion | 12
Strength | 10
Wisdom | 7
Arcane Power | 4
Accuracy | 11
Total | 53 ([url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=463143#p463143]broom racing win[/url], 2 duelling wins - [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=218275#p218275]1[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=274730#p269223]2[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=562383#p562153]3[/url]) [/size][/center][/quote][table][tr][td][reducio][center][b]Year One: Sixth Sense[/b][/center][size=90]Cassie McGregor-Martin had always had a sort of sense for things.
This came in useful many times as a youngster - whether to run away when she heard an adult's soft footsteps about to catch her in some act of wrongdoing, or to realise at the last minute that a much-needed prop was absent from the stage during a play - and seemed to carry on into what she proudly named [I]'the years of double digits'[/I].
Perhaps the most prominent, revealing, and - dare I say it - [I]interesting[/I] of the times when Cassie seemed to notice something out of the ordinary was at school in Beauxbatons, at the age of twelve.
She was talking to one of her friends after both going home for the winter holidays - [I]les vacances d’hiver[/i], as it is in French - and the two had a perfectly normal conversation about what Cassie's holiday had been like. Cassie noticed that her friend did not share any details of her own weeks, but did not comment on it until she noticed that the other girl was not wearing a necklace which Cassie knew she never usually took off. It had been a family heirloom which the girl had been very proud of, and when Cassie questioned her over its absence her flash of insight was rewarded - her friend had fought with her parents over returning to school, and had been keeping it a secret. Without Cassie's [I]sixth sense[/I], it was unlikely the poor girl would ever have shared the burden of guilt she carried.
Cassie has never been particularly sure when it was that she started noticing things. An organiser by nature, she has been able to tell when something is missing ever since she was too young to remember - from the moment she cried for the teddy she didn't know had fallen out her cot at the tender age of one.
Though many might call the [I]'niggling feeling'[/I] in the back of Cassie's mind whenever she is sure something is wrong a [I]'nervous habit'[/I], or simply say that she is [I]'being overly anxious'[/I], Cassie is certain that she can trust the feeling to tell her when there is something out of place or even missing entirely.
She seems to be right as well - after all, her [I]'niggling feeling'[/I] - or, as some may call it, [I]sixth sense[/I] - has never failed her yet.[/size][/reducio][/td][td][reducio][center][b]Year Two: Fearless[/b][/center][size=90]Cassie Heather McGregor-Martin is, it may be said, [i]fearless[/i].
Of course, that is not really true - everyone has fears, and Cassie Heather would be the first to admit her own - but the young population of Paris seem to share a romantic streak, and bravery can often be mistranslated into fearlessness, whether as a result of jealousy, admiration, or even simple loyalty.
Cassie has always had those things she has been afraid of - desease, rejection and loneliness to name a few - but she also possesses the rare ability to contain these fears, and even face them head on if the need arises.
This courage is one of her biggest and most noticable personality traits, and enables her to do most of the things she enjoys, and a few that she does not. In fact, one of the first things you might notice upon meeting the only child of Pierre and Harriet is her outgoing personality: how she doesn't let the world stop her, no matter what. [i]People can do what they like[/i], Cassie often says, [i]but so can I[/i]. This rather Gryffindor like world view mostly stems from her courage - and apparent fearlessness - which enables her to do just about anything and everything, from walking up to a random stranger and complimenting them on their new hat, to climbing on a broom and flying a course she has never seen before at a hundred miles an hour.
Perhaps the most notable of times when she swallowed fear and gained the lable of 'fearless' was the first time she ever tried broomracing.
Cassie Heather had seen from the moment she got onto a broom that she had a knack for flying, even on the rusty school brooms she had to deal with until her parents finally decided she could buy one, but when suddenly faced with obsticals the likes of which she had never seen before, she knew she had to try. The race that ensued was perhaps the most dangerous she has ever taken part in, to this day. All the first years were desperate to prove their worth as a broom racer, and it was a test of not just her sportsmanship but her courage as well. There were plenty of times during that race when she had the opertunity to give up, but Cassie Heather McGregor-Martin just couldn't. The blood was up, and she had gained a sense of adventure that would compell her to take the craziest risks, the strangest dares, the most impossible trials. This sense of adventure, and thrill of taking risks, she would never loose.[/size][/reducio][/td][td][reducio][center][b]Year Three: The Muggle Condition[/b][/center][size=90]Cassie Heather McGregor-Martin was a muggle-born. Although it was hard to tell most people's blood statuses just from looking at them - unless they were haughty purebloods, it wasn't something people usually told others at first meeting - but it would only take a few conversations with Cassie for another to at least have the suspicion. Whether it was her constant grumbles about learning some 'stupid' spells ([b][color=#72267E]"When am I [I]ever[/I] going to need to turn a flowerpot into a bird in [I]real life[/I]?!"[/color][/b]), her undisguised amazement whenever she encountered something magical she'd never seen before ([b][color=#72267E]"Hold up! You mean [I]dragons[/I] actually [I]exist[/I]?!"[/color][/b]), or simply her confused expression when someone dropped a word she'd never heard before into a conversation ([b][color=#72267E]"Sorry, what? What's a [I]'bowtruckle'[/I]?"[/color][/b]), everyone would understand sooner or later. Cassie didn't mind. In fact, Cassie Heather was quite proud of her heritage. She was proud of her parents, and she liked being different. It was annoying, sometimes, sure - like when she had to pay extra attention to some lessons because she was missing information that wizarding-born children would have - but she was proud.

Cassie Heather had only been at Beauxbatons for a few weeks when an older student laughed at her failed (and quite pathetic, really) attempt at a charm, calling her a [I]'mudblood'[/I]. This word was new to her, and when Cassie enquired as to its meaning (with flushed cheeks, as she was sure from the tone that it wasn't anything good), she was told mockingly that it was [I]'a word to describe people like you, who don't deserve what they've been given'[/I]. This explanation did not bode well for Cassie, so she next asked one of her friends what the word meant. Needless to say, she received a fuller and more sympathetic definition this time. The next day, she decided that revenge was necessary. She took a Muggle pen, poked a hole in it with the sharp end of her (also Muggle) compass, and dropped it into the older student's bag. The ink leaked everywhere and covered all of his school books, completely drenching them with black. Although the student could never prove it, he knew it was Cassie, and never called her a 'mudblood' again.

After that incident, Cassie decided two things.

Firstly, that the word 'mudblood' would no longer be an insult to her. She would take it just as she would take any other meaningless comment on her appearance or possessions - with indifference and the knowledge that whoever spoke it was not worth her time. There were just three things which Cassie Heather McGregor-Martin could not stand being insulted about, and her blood status would not be one of them. She would stand strong, just as he parents always told her to.

Secondly, Cassie made up her mind to be as 'obviously muggleborn' as she could be. Her 'skill' with just about any spell or charm other than counter-spells was essentially non-existant (or, at least, that was how Cassie viewed it: a 'spell' only ever seemed to work for her when she did it accidentally) and she vowed to rely on her magical power as little as she could. After all, she'd managed it for this long, hadn't she? She signed up for broomracing and then quidditch, both of which were games of physical and mental prowess rather than magical. She used a pen instead of a quill whenever she could get away with it. Once, she even asked her parents to send her an old travel CD player so that she and her friends could take it apart and she could show them what a 'battery' was.

All this, just to be different. Cassie Heather sure had a long journey ahead of her if she was going to make her idea of 'different' acceptable in everyone else's eyes.[/size][/reducio][/td][/tr][/table]
[reducio][b]Year 4 - Impartial - 498 words[/b]

Whenever Cassie met people who went to a wizarding school other than Beauxbatons, she noticed that they all seemed to share the same misconceptions about her school. Beauxbatons was painted as a school for the elite, where every student was graceful, pretty, and polite. That wasn't true! Or was it? Because, as much as Cassie didn't want to admit it, there [I]were[/I] a lot of pretty people at Beauxbatons. Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe it was because of the reputation the school had accidentally built up. Maybe it was because Beauxbatons students were encouraged to take pride in their appearance and none of the other schools really cared that much.

Either way, Cassie enjoyed subverting people's expectations. She herself was entirely average in the looks department, and - just as she was told to do - took pride in that. Makeup was itchy so she never wore it. Skirts were impractical so she never wore them. In fact, Cassie's fashion sense only went as far as finding the funniest thing written on a t-shirt and wearing the same pair of jeans multiple days in a row.

It was probably because of this lack of care over her own looks that Cassie found it difficult to categorise other people's. Of course, there were some people who fell squarely into the categories of either [I]beautiful[/I] or [I]ugly[/I]. A vague standard of prettiness was something that everyone learnt as a child - it was engraved into you as you grew up that some people were pretty, and some people were not. But most people, in Cassie's experience, lay in between. And even for those who fit into their boxes, that didn't mean anything to Cassie. Why should a person's appearance change your perception of them, when it's what's on the inside that matters?

Love was another thing that Cassie found confusing. She had friends who crushed on celebrities, or on people who they'd seen in the corridor but never spoken to. Cassie, though, didn't understand how you could just look at someone and decide that they were 'hot', and see them as a possible romantic partner. It was all a bit silly. How did facial symmetry and a particular type of hair make a person desirable? Sometimes, Cassie would find herself stuck on the outside while her friends had conversations about the people they crushed on, or how hot the new kid was. She didn't entirely mind this - after all, she was clearly correct in not judging people by appearances - but sometimes ended up wondering why it happened. Was crushing as much of a big deal as some people made it out to be? Did your appearance really matter? What-

But then she would force herself to stop. There was no point going down a rabbit hole of trying to work out the reasons behind her classmates' actions. Maybe people could be pretty, but they were never attractive to Cassie. She was just impartial to all that nonsense.[/reducio][quote][center][size=90]Sport | Broom Racing[/size][/center][/quote][/quote]

Approved

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sick banner done by @Guinevere Russetwood

Pending - we will need an edit to your birthday. The date of birth for your character should be between Sept 1, 2010 and Aug 31, 2011. 10/11/2011 is too late, making you too young.
The height you listed is far too tall, even for a 'tall' child. The average height for an 11 year old child is 4 foot 8 inches. The 95th percentile is 5 feet tall. Being 5 foot 4 is massively over the expected height for even a 'tall' child.
We are going to need an explanation for why your foster parents immediately recognized your first instance of magic as being evidence that you are not a wizard considering the fact that you are a muggle born who was raised by a pair of muggle foster parents.

Approved - you have an encyclopedia post here.

Name: Camila Gutiérrez
School: Beauxbatons
Year: 1st
Status: Pureblood

Appearance: Fine featured with long blonde hair and clear hazel eyes, Camila could and has been described as ‘doll-like.’ She’s rather tall for a girl her age, with a slender frame and delicate hands that don’t seem to have seen much work.

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Personality: At odds with her sweet appearance, Camila tends to be somewhat histrionic. She’s clever enough to play a good girl with adults and the members of her family, but with her peers she is loud, brash, and arrogant. She will often belittle people at the drop of a hat, and she looks down her nose at near everyone.

Unlike most people her age, she is genuinely confident in herself. She enjoys challenges and has an uncanny ability to accept failure with aplomb. Uncaring of consequence - particularly since her parents dote on her regardless of what she does, plus she is essentially set for life with their pureblood fortune - she will purposefully get failing grades for most of the year. This ensures incredible pressure near the end of the year when she has to get near-perfect grades to pass. The more pressure she’s under, the more she thrives.

Due to certain events in her past, she romanticizes the ancient Muggle perception of ‘witches’ as old herbalist crones who live in stone hovels and curse towns who don’t treat them well. While she hasn’t much desire to curse anyone, she’s decided that in the future she’d like to become a master potioneer to take after the stereotype she enjoys. Though most people don’t see this side of her, she has a mischievous streak and likes to use harmless spells to cause confusion and chaos. With adults she puts on a tinkling, gentle laugh, but her expression of genuine mirth is a loud, un-girlish cackle.

History:

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It is said that there is a curse on the Gutiérrez family, though no one can pinpoint where it started or why. Still, if you trace the lineage of this Spanish Pureblood family back through the generations, a pattern begins to emerge. None of them were satisfied with what they had regardless of how great or how much it was, and hundreds of years plus a day ago the itch of wanting more that ran through them led them to ruin. Camila's many-greats-grandfather gambled their sizable fortune away in old Muggle parlors, and the disgust from other Purebloods at his having consorted with lesser beings destroyed the Gutiérrez's social foundation in one fell swoop.

Shunned by high society and destroyed financially, the next five generations lived harsh, destitute lives. Each patriarch grew progressively crueler and more desperate until the weight of those lives fell upon the shoulders of Camila's father, Julian. The itch of needing more was strong in his blood, but for once it brought about good tidings. Julian was far and away the shrewdest man the family had ever known, and the passed-down cruelty made him willing to step on anyone to further his goal of turning the Gutiérrez family around.

By the time he was in his mid-twenties, Julian had created a business and ruthlessly clawed his way to the top of his competitors, gaining him enough wealth to put the family back on track to being considered respectable. The next step was erasing the social stigma that still plagued his 'cursed' family, and for this he managed to set up an arranged marriage between himself and the daughter of another Pureblood family who were well-respected but in need of financial assistance.

Carmen Azarolla turned out to be a good fit for Julian, being nearly as ruthless as her husband and, while the pair didn't love each other, in the end they found something more crucial; they liked each other. They had three children out of necessity, deciding it was the correct number to have in case one or more of their children were failures.

Camila was the last of these children and the only girl of the family. She had two older brothers - Gabriel, who was eight years older than her, and Andrés, who was five years older. Despite being heavily involved in Julian's business and often busy, Camila's parents weren't overly bad. They loved their children after a fashion, and Julian saw in Camila that same thirst for more that was in him, which forged a bond between them that wasn't there with the other children. A fundamental understanding of sameness that no one else in the family shared. Julian taught the boys they needed to be tough and merciless, but he didn't see the need with Camila since he felt she would become that kind of person no matter what he taught her. Instead of strict lessons, he offered her whatever she wanted and gifted her anything she could desire on a whim.

For a few years, all was well. Except... as time went on, Gabriel didn't demonstrate any sign of magic. It stretched longer and longer, until even Andrés showed his first magic and the truth couldn't be denied. Gabriel was a Squib.

To his parents, one who came from a crumbling family and the other who came from a family just finally beginning to ascend after many generations, this was a horror of the highest magnitude. It couldn't be allowed to get out that one of their children would never be a wizard, especially with their views on Muggles. Gabriel - the kind older brother Camila loved who had been a model child before being declared magicless - was banished from the house to live with relatives all the way over in America. Andrés and Camila were forbidden from visiting him, communicating with him, or even mentioning him.

It left a strained silence in the household and a dark mark in Camila's mind. She had naturally been raised to believe Muggles were the bad ones, that they would discriminate against wizards and that they had stolen the Gutiérrez family fortune so many years ago because they were evil, but if that was so... then what was the treatment of Gabriel to be called? He wasn't a Muggle, and his being a part of the family wouldn't mean anything bad since he wouldn't discriminate against them.

Wizards were cruel. Wizards were the ones who discriminated. Conversely, reading history, Muggles... did the same. Which side was right? Were either of them? The only ones who seemed totally innocent were the 'witches' in Muggle stories who simply lived as they wished and were punished for it. When Camila brought that up with Andrés, he laughed her off, and between his dismissing her and their internal frustration about Gabriel being sent away, they began to fight.

Camila was proven Not A Squib when she got in a shouting match with Gabriel and he was suddenly muted, as if someone had pressed the mute button on a remote that controlled his volume. No matter how his mouth moved, for minutes no sound came out. When it finally did and he told their parents, Julian and Carmen only cared that their daughter was a witch; they were overjoyed to hear it.

It was the final straw in Camila and Gabriel's relationship, that spoiling of their parents' youngest daughter and further strictness towards their 'oldest son' since they were determined Andrés had to be perfect to make up for his brother. From that point forward, the remaining siblings became incredibly frosty towards each other and haven't gotten along since.

Camila, for all her cleverness, had too many conflicts in her family relationships and so had issues making friends. Her boisterous arrogance didn't help, and by the time she got the acceptance letter to Beauxbatons she was eleven years old and hadn't had a single friend in her life. This was fine; she needed no one. She would become the solitary crone in a cabin in her stories.

Now she attends magic school, and has no plans to change to accommodate anyone. She does poorly in school on purpose for the pressure, only keeping her grades up in Potions class since that is what she wants to do in the future. Nonetheless, her parents - and her father in particular - spoil her no matter what kind of grades she has.

Broom Racer: No
Quidditch Player: No
Duelist: Yes
Stats:

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Stamina - 5
Evasion - 5
Strength - 0
Wisdom - 10
Arc Power - 10
Accuracy - 5

Ability:
Lovely Creature

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Though she wants to be like the witches in the stories she loves, the one thing Camila doesn't like about them is how they're always portrayed as ugly, warty old women. There is something that makes her singularly uncomfortable about the process of aging; the grooves it carves into people's faces, the liver spots it puts on their hands, the rheumy, glazed look of their eyes. She has to hold back waves of revulsion when old women or men clutch her hands to shake, feeling like they want to somehow steal her youth so they can look as they did when they were young.

To combat this, she spends painstaking hours on her appearance. She has her father order tinctures and creams to keep her skin soft and supple, and to reduce any chance that she'll ever develop wrinkles. It's completely illogical and most certainly impossible, but she does it nonetheless. She works hard to ensure there is nary a blemish or discoloration anywhere on her person.

Not that she needs to be concerned about her appearance. Her mother is an absolutely stunning woman, so much so that it makes her father proud to take Carmen out and see the jealous stares he earns. Camila inherited many of her features, from the small nose to the dimples to the long, shining blonde hair. At her age, most of the people at the Pureblood parties fawn over how adorable she is and how pretty she'll grow up to be. Ever since she was young, she knew this and used it to her advantage - a pout here would get her a free candy at the shop, and crocodile tears there would let her leave a particularly boring situation.

Still, there is one thing she inherited from her father. Her eyes are a light hazel, almost gold in the sunlight, and when she narrows them a person would be hard pressed to think of her as soft. That sharp contrast between 'pretty little thing' and 'discerning young woman' elevates her from someone you'd simply glance at to someone your head would follow. She is distractingly lovely, but anyone who sees that gaze and knows Julian Gutiérrez wouldn't want much to do with her.

Recently she's started experimenting with cosmetics, which help enhance her features even more. Sometimes she'll lay it on too thick and look odd, but her mother - a woman who for years weaponized her beauty since her family didn't have much else - is teaching her a subtler touch. Once she masters it and matures into a woman, she'll undoubtedly have just as much success as her mother with using her looks as a weapon.

WC: 443

Approved Encyclopedia applied. [Link]

NPC Name: Raphael Aveline
Link: link to NPC page
Year: Four
Stats: +1 Sta from PC duel win (x): Sta 7 -> 8 ᚐ Eva 15 ᚐ Str 12 ᚐ Wis 5 ᚐ Arc 0 ᚐ Acc 15
Trunk Coding:

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[b]Sta[/b] 8 [COLOR=#5e472c]ᚐ[/COLOR] [b]Eva[/b] 15 [COLOR=#5e472c]ᚐ[/COLOR] [b]Str[/b] 12 [COLOR=#5e472c]ᚐ[/COLOR] [b]Wis[/b] 5 [COLOR=#5e472c]ᚐ[/COLOR] [b]Arc[/b] 0 [COLOR=#5e472c]ᚐ[/COLOR] [b]Acc[/b] 15
[size=90][url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?f=16&t=15247&p=243862#p243862]x[/url] [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=371279#p371279]x[/url] [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=427470#p427470]x[/url] [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=463143#p463143]x[/url] [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=593834#p593834]x[/url][/size]

The Muggle Condition [COLOR=#5e472c]ᚐ[/COLOR] Fearless [COLOR=#5e472c]ᚐ[/COLOR] Evasive Maneuvers I + II
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Broomracer[/center]


The Muggle Condition [size=75][412 words][/size]
[reducio]Growing up, Raphael hadn't cared about many things. 

School was boring, it was hard to focus on learning dry things from books while locked into a room with twenty-five other kids and a bunch of stale air. More often than not, his gaze strayed from the numbers on the page in front of him to the window and the blue sky beyond. If only they'd let him [i]move[/i].

People were boring, with their endless drama and demands, asking of him things he didn't want to do, hadn't cared to do. The squabbling of other kids over whose pen this was, who got to sit next to who, who was invited to which birthday. Raphael usually didn't want to go. They were boring.

What he did care about, though, were sports. Any kind of sports was good - PE classes at his school saw him excelling in athletics, although he preferred ball sports - but from the moment his father took him to a local club's match, Raphael's true love proved to be football [size=75](the British football, not the American kind)[/size]. The football field was where you could see his usually impassive expression change for one of excitement, where you would see him passionately chase after a ball - where he felt like himself. There were evenings spent on goal practice alone, satisfaction rushing through him when he managed to aim the ball in the exact corner he wanted, a smile on his face that was rarely seen. The football field was where Raphael was most at home.

It was where his father would find him at 8 pm when the sun went down and he'd missed supper, and where he would have gone in the mornings if not for that pesky thing called school. (He'd tried. His father hadn't been pleased.) An avid fan of Liverpool F.C, Raphael was already dreaming of his career as a professional player... until that invitation to [i]l'Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons[/i] came and threw a wrench into his plans. No football there, no sir, just more time spent sitting in classrooms, trying to do things he wasn't good at, the magic he was supposed to learn failing more often than it should and not powerful even when it obeyed.

At least they had other sports, and all that time spent ducking between two opponent players trying to steal the ball from him, or burying the ball into the net, paid off there, too. Still... it wasn't the same.
[/reducio][center]ꕤ[/center]Fearless [size=75][403 words][/size]
[reducio]Growing up, Raphael hadn't cared about many things. 

He hadn't had to. Born into a storybook family - father, mother, him, and a little sister five years later. Wealthy enough to not lack anything he might want, talented enough to slip through the first few years of school without getting into trouble for his lack of investment. Life had been easy, free of worries, things that broke were easily replaced. For the first few years of his life, Raphael had been as carefree as a butterfly, chasing after things that were colourful and interesting, never worrying about falling for he could fly.

It didn't hold though, few things as happy do. After his mother left when he was a boy, something changed. What had been simple [i]carelessness[/i] grew into something more. Where things hadn't fazed him before, now they didn't interest him. Unconcern turned into apathy. You might expect that his mother leaving when he was young, but not so young as not to realise the implications, might have left Raphael with a fear of separation, a constant worry that his father, his sister, his friends would leave, too. That things that broke would be gone for good. For Raphael, it did the opposite.

It had taken a while for his father to notice, longer than it should have, perhaps, but when he did, he grew concerned. He could not remember the last time Raphael had come to him with something that excited him, worried him, much less frightened him. This was an eight year old boy who didn't fear the dark or needles at the doctor, did not flinch from dogs, stared down a fifty metre drop without blinking. He got rid of spiders by himself, mostly because his sister asked him to, was not intimidated by teachers, and showed no sense of self-preservation when facing fire. It was worrying for more reasons than one.

People often use the word "fearlessness" to describe "bravery", but in truth, the two are very different. Fear is something natural, something healthy, often, that keeps us alive. Warns us to stay away from things that might hurt us. Bravery is conquering those fears when they are unwarranted, or when there is a reason that defies self-preservation. Fearlessness, on the other hand, means that there was no fear to begin with, and it is not usually something that should be pursued. 

Raphael was not brave. Raphael was fearless.[/reducio][center]ꕤ[/center]Evasive Maneuvers [size=75][437 words][/size]
[reducio]Growing up, Raphael hadn't cared about many things. 

Sports and his sister, those ranked at the top. His friends and father were somewhere up there, too. That was mostly it. So when Raphael had started attending Beauxbatons, three of those four things had suddenly been out of reach. Not completely, of course. He could send his family letters, and could have asked them to deliver messages to his friends, too, although he could not explain why he had suddenly left to attend a fancy boarding school. Or where that school was, or what it was called. Really, most of his friendships didn't hold for very long after that.

He still kind of kept up with his favourite sports teams via a radio that was somehow enchanted to function around magic, and could thankfully be set to receive Muggle radio channels as well. As for playing, Raphael threw himself into the sports that Beauxbatons had to offer. Duelling relied too much on magic, and not enough on physical activity, but broom sports, those were fun. (Not as good as football, but who could ask for that?)

And so, rather than spending his free time on football fields, Raphael started spending his free time on brooms. Dodging bludgers. Dodging obstacles. Dodging other players trying to crash into him. Dodging spells aimed at him. Dodging magical beasts that were added to the broom racing courses because apparently, in the magical world, no sport was complete without the very high risk of serious injury. Not that football players did not get injured frequently, but at least the rules tried to prevent rather than encourage this.

There was a learning curve to it, of course. You didn't just sit on a broom for the first time and magically have perfect control. Well, unless you were Harry Potter, maybe. But Raphael did have a knack for sports, and the determination to make up for his lack of experience. More of the latter than the former, if you asked him.

He supposed you couldn't really spend that much time playing wizard sports without at some point developing reflexes that were borderline supernatural. It was hard to explain, really, what set off his instincts. The whistling of a ball coming closer at a speed that threatened to break bones, the odd draft of air, the sounds of a mumbled incantation, sometimes just the feeling of hair standing up at the back of his neck, an inexplicable sensation telling him that [i]something[/i] was coming, and Raphael moved to evade, in a swerve or a loop, dropping a few feet or rising up to dodge what was coming.[/reducio][center]ꕤ[/center]Evasive Maneuvers II [size=75][439 words][/size]
[reducio]Three years after Raphael had started attending the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, he still felt kind of bitter about it. More than bitter... cheated, that was probably the right word. Forced into a world where he constantly felt out of place, worse than he had before.

He had never been good at making friends, and with the loss of all his known relationships, his approach had changed more towards… actively avoiding. It had not seemed worth putting in the energy, the thought was exhausting. Hence, more than ever, Raph had started spending his time focused on sports. Broom racing, Quidditch, those thankfully did not require magic, and soon enough Raphael spent more of his waking time on a broom than on solid ground. Last summer, for lack of alternatives, he had picked up running as a sport he could do both at home and at school, and it had quickly turned into a habit. 

That had come with an unexpected side-effect of social relationships… kind of sneaking up on him. He would not call them friends, exactly, more slightly less annoying acquaintances, maybe. That he enjoyed doing sports with, and did not mind hanging out with generally. But no, definitely not friends. 

After all, he obviously only spent time with them because there was a tangible benefit. It was hard to play football by himself, and only dodging trees by himself, without competition, and without unexpected attacks coming from the side, got too easy after a while. Clearly, training himself to dodge incoming balls quicker, more effortlessly, more instinctively, was the only reason he kept asking Cassie to play with him, and that during one of their many morning runs, he had finally also asked Ye-jun if he was interested in playing some football every now and then. 

It was not wrong, of course. Training with Cassie, playing with Ye-jun, it sharpened his reflexes. More than once, a small smile snuck onto Raph’s face when Cassie exclaimed in surprise after he had shifted his broom to the right just enough to escape an incoming projectile that he could not possibly have seen coming. It even evolved into a game of Cassie randomly throwing things at him, trying to catch him off-guard… with a surprisingly low quota of success. The intended effect was definitely there. Yet, if he was honest, the more time passed, the more the (very effective) training became an excuse, to see Cassie, to hang out with Ye-jun. 

Well. No matter the reasons, excuses or not, by the end of his third year at Beauxbatons, Raphael had uncanny dodging abilities… and possibly even a friend or two.

[right][size=75]Mentions of Lee Ye-jun and Cassie Heather McGregor-Martin approved by @Eun-ji Lee Hunt and @Lucia Fox.[/size][/right][/reducio]

Approved Mags 18/03/23

Pending - Your birthday should be 2010, as you would have been 11 at the start of September 2022. Please amend this

Approved - this is a link to the encyclopedia entry [Link]

NPC Name: Ye-jun Lee
Link: link to ENCY
Year: Four
Stats: +1 Acc from DUEL WIN
Old Stats: Sta 9 * Eva 9 * Str 10 * Wis 9 * Arc 7 * Acc 8
New Stats: Sta 9 * Eva 9 * Str 10 * Wis 9 * Arc 7 * Acc 9

Approved - Mags, 18/03

NPC Name: Maximilien de Fostoncy
Link: here
Year: fourth
Stats Changes: +1 to strength from duelling win
New Stats: sta 7 · eva 11 · wis 13 · str 3+1=4 · arc 7 · acc 11
Trunk Coding:

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[quote][quote][center][size=150][b][i]- TRUNK -[/i][/b][/size][/center][/quote]
[quote][center][size=115][b]| stats |[/b][/size]
[b]sta[/b] 7 · [b]eva[/b] 11 · [b]wis[/b] 13 · [b]str[/b] 4 · [b]arc[/b] 7 · [b]acc[/b] 11
[size=95][i]+3 from [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?f=40&t=13594&hilit=&start=50#p215087]quidditch win[/url] & [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=463143#p463143]broom racing win[/url] & [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=594611#p594611]duelling win[/url][/i][/size][/center][/quote]
[quote][center][size=115][b]| abilities |[/b][/size][/center][color=transparent]—[/color][b]year 1.[/b] lovely creature
[reducio][size=95]At the time Maximilien was born, he was considered handsome. It was not really a surprise, though, since his parents were all extremely good looking. Mélanie Janvaque was one of the most gorgeous girls in class in her school days, and Vincent de Fostoncy was secretly had a crush on by many students. Honestly speaking, no one in the family wasn’t good looking — from Louis to Maximilien.

Successfully inherited his mother’s eye color and hair color, the boy was fairly good looking. He had good the straight nose of the de Fostoncy family, and thin, pink lips. His eyelashes were long, and were of brown color. His mother regarded him as a doll when he was sleeping. Actually, even if the boy’s awake, he was like a gorgeous statue.

When walking on the streets in Lyon, Maximilien was looked attentively by many strangers. They stopped when he and his father passed by, and pointed at them secretly. Sometimes the boy’s ears would catch a few words like “handsome” “good looking” “lovely”. He was young at that time, and did not really take these things seriously. However his father was glad. Glad that someone had praised his son.

Attending fancy balls played a large part in the family. Louis de Fostoncy, the current count, especially loved these kinds of activities. Taking the beautiful Madame de Fostoncy, the handsome Chevalier de Fostoncy, and the young de Fostoncy heir was just extremely agreeable, since whenever and wherever the family of four showed up, they would earn applause and praises. People admired the wealthy family, but especially, envied their beauty. They dragged the young heir near them, and examined him carefully, hoping to point some flaws on his face out. However, they failed. Maximilien was too lovely to find out a flaw. If you had to point something out, you might say that he’s a bit chubby — but he was still a good looking child. The old ladies especially loved this pretty boy. They talked with him for hours, even if the boy got bored. 

By the time he was eleven, Maximilien had became even more handsome. He had mostly grew his chubby cheeks out, became taller, athletic built, and was always dressed in elegant dark colored clothes. The boy was still admired and envied by many others, and the future count of the de Fostoncy family was highly estimated. 

Without a doubt, Maximilien de Fostoncy was always a lovely creature.

WC | 405[/size][/reducio][color=transparent]—[/color][b]year 2.[/b] perfectionist
[reducio][size=95]Growing up, Maximilien had always been a perfectionist. Being stubborn, he wanted everything to be the best — which he would not regret afterwards.

From the age of four, his grandfather forced him to stay inside the house and study spells and potions for the whole morning. His father was his mentor — and to his surprise, Maximilien did everything extremely well. One day Monsieur le Chevalier taught him a difficult potion, and within hours, Maximilien could revise the recipe correctly. Vincent was surprised. But what he did not know is, after he had gave the book to the young Maximilien and left, the boy copied the recipe for seven times. It was really long, but he still did it.

Upon the time he was accepted into Beauxbatons, Maximilien was hard working student. He loved Charms and Potions, as well as Defense Against the Dark Arts. Most of his classmates had seen this boy working alone late at night in his dormitory, and many of them had seen him practicing spells in an empty classroom. The library was nearly Maximilien’s second home — he did not have many friends, so he visited there a lot during weekends. 

The boy wanted everything to be perfect. He studied hard, did physical exercises everyday, and kept a healthy diet. He was proud and stubborn, so it helped him to be perfect. Day by day, he continued to study in the library and his dorm. And as a result, he improved day by day.

He received seven Os in his examination. His grandfather and father was really glad, but they still lacked knowledge of how hard Maximilien had worked. Most things were perfect — and that’s exactly what Maximilien wanted to see. He was overjoyed to see his academic results, and the boy decided that he would even study harder afterwards. He wanted himself to be the best, though he had never spoken it out loud.

When it’s the summer before his second year, Maximilien spent tons of time reading in the library in the de Fodtoncy Estate. While his grandfather was busy showing off at friends’ houses, his father busy running the wine estate, and his mother busy visiting her own maiden family, Maximilien read, and learnt. He had briefly met his cousins for two days, and all they saw was the boy was reading whenever and wherever. Maximilien loved it, and decided to do everything well. 

His knowledge of spells and potions were extending every moment. It’s no surprise that he had already became a perfectionist — because, Maximilien de Fostoncy was just born as one.

WC | 424[/size][/reducio][color=transparent]—[/color][b]year 3.[/b] spell spread[reducio][size=95]Summer. Summer was always agreeable for Maxi, and especially this one. Monsieur le Comte had accepted the Duke Springhall’s invitation for him staying over for July, and thus Maximilien arrived at the Springhall Heights as soon as his schoolyear ended in Beauxbatons. The Duke welcomed him warmly, and he soon won the old wizard’s favour - who agreed to give him some lessons on duelling.

We would skip the part of how Maxi won this special favour, as even the boy himself was quite ignorant of the reason. Maybe it was because of his fine etiquette, compared to Edmund and Lindsey - or it was simply because that the Duke desperately wished to teach some young wizards the art of combating magic. Maxi knew that Edmund was nowhere near the title of a duellist, and Lindsey was on her house Quidditch team, and the Duke wasn’t very into that - somehow he regarded duelling as “the only sport that’s worth participating”.

But anyways, everything started within a week he arrived. Maximilien began to visit the Duke’s personal studio daily at 10 o’clock in the morning, and showed up as the very last one for tea. Finding his interests in the ancient English books about duelling, Maxi was more than happy to expand his knowledge. He was a perfectionist and wished perfection in everything, after all. Practicing always came after simple reading. It would be countless times every day, when Maxi raised up his wand and uttered the incantation out. The Duke would watch over every single spell he casted at the dummies (the Duke Springhall [i]did[/i] have one or two in his studio), and offered him some help. And then he would teach the young Frenchman some strategies and tactics, the latter found [i]everything[/i] fascinating, including the stern looking old wizard himself.

But no. None of these were as fascinating - as grand as what happened the other day, when he was about to leave in a few days. It was just like every other morning in York, cloudy and a little bit rainy. Facing two dummies and having the old wizard closely watching, Maxi raised his wand up. [color=#586d9d][b]“Flipendo!”[/b][/color] he uttered in perfect English, which made the Duke’s knitted brows smoothed. As what both the old and the young had expected, one line of blue light flashed out directly from the point of Maximilien’s wand. It was [i]perfect[/i]. Not the strongest version nor the most powerful one, but already ideal enough for a thirteen-year-old. Seeing the would almost certainly hit the dummy on the left, the Duke was about to say something, when -

It was all of a sudden, and it was unbelievable. But it was [i]true[/i]. As true as he was named Maximilien René Pascal Jacques Vincent Louis de Fostoncy. The spell split in two and targeted both of the dummies. Both were knocked over, and Maximilien stood there with surprise, wand still raised up in the air. The Duke was just as silent as the boy was, sitting there motionlessly.

[color=#5c5c5c][b]“Nice work, young man.”[/b][/color] the old wizard finally started, nodding approvingly. [color=#5c5c5c][b]“Few wizards can achieve that…only those who are truly talented…”[/b][/color] Lowering his wand and stepping forward to right the knocked-over dummies, Maxi smiled at the old wizard. [color=#586d9d][b]“Thank you, Monsieur le Duc.”[/b][/color] he said softly, while slowly raising his wand up again at the dummies.

He utilized his left days in the Springhall Heights to practice and get tutorials from the Duke - who helped him to learn to control his split spell. Maximilien knew that a grander spell meant a higher chance of failure. So he had to practice hard, like what a true perfectionist would do. Day by day his skills improved. And although backfiring still happened occasionally, he was far more better than what he had done the very first day he when discovered his skill. 

When he packed his things to leave for the Hogwarts Summer Camp on July 31st, it was raining outside. James Kingsleigh, the Duke’s clerk, offered to take him to the York train station, where he could set off for London. Maxi accepted this gratefully, and the two walked together silently in the rain, luggage in hand. James regretted not taking his wand with him, as they would only be able to conjure one umbrella using Maxi’s wand - instead of two, and Maxi shook his head. [color=#586d9d][b]“I believe it’s alright, Mister Kingsleigh.”[/b][/color] he smiled, while reaching for his wand. [color=#586d9d][b]“Pluvia Velo.”[/b][/color] 

James watched the the young French boy conjuring two umbrellas and passing one to him in surprise. However, he remarked nothing. Just a simple, grateful nod, and the two continued their walk in the rain with two umbrellas. No one was going to get wet. The skill was useful - thought Maxi. Indeed.

WC | 798[/size][/reducio][color=transparent]—[/color][b]year 4.[/b] perfectionist II[reducio][size=95]What was exactly [i]obsession[/i]? Maxi was longing to know the answer. He’d looked for it in his grandfather’s library, polled a few classmates for their opinions, and pondered it while wandering through his family’s wine estate. That was, until someone told him that he was prone to obsessions. It was certainly a helpful clue, now all he had to do was look through his hobbies and things that piqued his interest to figure out the answer. 

Lovely ladies? No, that wasn’t supposed to be an obsession. Flowers? Erm, he didn’t do much gardening to be honest. Spellcasting? Perhaps, he’d been practicing diligently and eager to know more about the art of combating magic, but he had already left the duelling team. In terms of extracurricular activities, earlier that year, he had switched from the Beauxbatons duelling team to broom racing. At the beginning he thought it was nothing than a mere impulse, only because racing sounded like the perfect combination of broom and spells, both of which he didn't want to miss. His grandfather was entirely supportive (how honourable for his grandson to be recognised on the track, and just think of the renown and scholarship!), as was his father, though the latter was slightly concerned that his son wouldn't be as dedicated to spellcasting as he had been previously. Maxi reassured Vincent that this would not happen, and he devoted himself into training without wasting any time. He started small, riding and avoiding obstacles and attacks. Day by day he got better, learning from experienced teammates and actively engaging in team practices. And he was certainly achieving things - he could target opponents moving fast on brooms as if they were on their feet, and he could as well ride through the wind and remain unmoved. Maybe that’s just what obsession was.

Oh, and there’s writing. Maxi did not forget about his little interest of writing, whether it was a poem, a fantasy, or a novella. People could dismiss this pastime as whimsical, especially when they come across the nymphs and nightingales written on the parchment, but Maxi adored them. It played a significant part in his life, and he made sure that he could write at least two poems and a short fable every week, no matter how busy he was. When he returned home for summer, Maxi secretly presented his mother his latest work as a gift without letting his grandfather or father know (they wouldn't approve of him writing this because it's “useless”, he knew it). A story about a well-educated young lady who overcame all hurdles with tenacity and pursued her dream career as an artist, despite her family’s opposition. When Mélanie read it, she couldn’t help but shed tears because the protagonist resembled her a lot but ended up realising her drea, unlike her. Impressive, she told her son tenderly, you really have a knack for this, my dearest little Maximilien, and I love it so much. Maxi smiled upon his mother’s comment, feeling that everything was worth it. Nobody knew how hard he had worked on the novella - how many times had he revised it? Seven? Eight? And at least two times were thorough amendments. When he was finally satisfied with his work, he transcribed the whole story in neat handwriting on fresh parchments, which took another three days to finalise. Indeed, he sure had some talent in this and writing the story did offer him much joy, but the effort paid also played a big part in making the whole thing perfect. Maxi never regretted it taking up his free time though, he knew perfecting the present for his mother was all he really wanted. Was that, by any chance, some kind of obsession?

He thought about many things, things that had, no matter briefly or chronically, once occupied his mind. After days meditating on the subject, Maxi thought he could now answer it. To strive for perfection. Maybe that’s what [i]obsession[/i] really meant.

WC | 663[/size][/reducio][/quote]
[quote][center][size=115][b]| extracurricular |[/b][/size]
broom racer[/center][/quote][/quote]

Approved

NPC Name: Katherine Felix
Link: here!
Year: Third
Stats: +1 Accuracy (Should have +3 from duelling wins (1, 2) & quidditch win)
New Stats: Sta 9 | Eva 10 | Str 11 | Wis 4 | Arc 0 | Acc 14
Abilities: N/A
Extracurricular: Quidditch Player
Content Changes: N/A
Trunk Coding: (It's the same as before, only increased the accuracy)

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[quote][b]Is your character a Broom Racer?[/b] No
[b]Is your character a Quidditch Player?[/b] Yes
[b]Is your character a Duelist?[/b] No[/quote]
[quote][b]Stats:[/b] Stamina: 9 | Evasion: 10 | Strength: 11 | Wisdom: 4 | Arcane Power: 0 | Accuracy: 14[/quote]
[quote][b]Abilities:[/b] Evasive Maneuvers (WC: 481 words)
[reducio]"C'mon! Let's play!" Messy red hair bounced up and down with the girl, trying to get the two others to join. Isabelle nodded, a smile spreading across her face as both the girls turned towards Helen. The young woman glanced between the two, before letting out a soft sigh with a smile. "Alright, but just one round. Go on, you two, hide." Kit chirped in excitement, quickly dashing off. It wasn't often that she could get the two to play hide and go seek. They preferred to stick with the original, apparently.

Light footsteps would be heard, trailing around different locations to not give Helen any clues. But eventually she would stop, hiding behind a couch. It certainly wasn't the best hiding spot, but it would have to do. Wherever Isabelle might've hidden was a question for later. Now to wait.

It wouldn't take long, before Kit would find herself glancing around, trying to find where Helen had gone. She had peeked up too much, red hair rather visible against the colorless background. The young girl realized this a moment later, keeping her position for a few moments longer while Helen came towards her. She'd wait for the last minute, before quickly bouncing back out of reach. Kit decided to test her fate a little more, allowing for one more chance. A few moments of waiting, before another quick dodge out of the way, laughing from the adrenaline. It was a fun little game for the young girl, but she'd dash away, trying to find the next hiding spot. Blue-green eyes would glance around the next corridor, running in before she realized that Isabelle was standing in the middle of the walkway.

"Did you get tagged?" The younger girl would ask, bouncing on her feet slightly. Her sister would say nothing, but began to close the gap between them. A hand would whip out to try and tap the redhead, but she had side-skipped, barely getting out of the way. "You did!" she gasped, a grin widening. She would pause for a moment, before running before Isabelle or Helen could tag her in her surprise. Having two on one posed an interesting challenge, as they directed her towards a dead end. Kit didn't notice until she was almost against the wall, keeping out of both of their reaches. But in a dead end, there was only so much ducking and weaving one could do until they got tagged. Fingers would barely graze her arm, and the girl would stop, quickly turning around to face the others.

"Well that wasn't fair," she pouted, a little out of breath. Helen shook her head, huffed laughter escaping her. "No, Kitkat dear, there was nothing fair about what you were doing. We needed our own tactics to win." Isabelle would nod, offering her sister an impressed smile. "I think we'll just stick to regular hide-and-seek."[/reducio]Catch (WC: 459 words)
[reducio] Quidditch was a fun sport. Dangerous and way more competitive than she had realized. There had been talk back at home, but the importance of quidditch never really set in until Kit was trying out to join the team. Sports had never been about winning, but rather being a group to spend time with and get to know. Still, it was important that she in some way aided the team. The height of play was scary enough, not to mention adding bludgers into the mix.

One of the practices, they practiced catching in a more controlled and safe environment so that teammates might be able to help each other better when the real game came around. It was strange to have a new weight on the broom. There was some struggle with maneuverability and keeping the other person on at the same time. But still, it sounded like the perfect way to help out. Maybe even prevent some of the more serious injuries that could occur when one fell down from such a distance.

Practices remained the same, but Kit spent more time figuring out what best to use as a substitute for an additional person on the broom. Backpacks stuffed with books worked well, trying to move around easily enough without the bag toppling over and free falling down to the ground. It was strange to have less space on the broom, but the girl adjusted, challenging herself to have more room on the back of the broom. But having two people on a broom was just one step. The other was catching.

This was more challenging to practice, generally required someone else to help out. One way was by tossing the previously used backpack down to be caught. The distances were small at first- a light toss between the two, but the distance and height increased as Kit grew more confident with this skill. This didn’t mean that the backpack stayed intact, however, books pressing their edges into the fabric until it ripped. No new scratches or tears had been seen in a while, though, significant improvement from the start of her outside practices. 

The second way was carrying someone. This almost always drew laughs the first few times as Kit struggled to figure out how best to get a person onto the back of her broom. For what sounded like the simple part, the second year found it rather complicated, making sure to put padding down before ever trying to pick up her friend. While the quidditch player had yet to use this new skill in a game, she was positive it would be useful at some point. Plus, it was another way for her to help out from a distance. Or on the same broom.[/reducio]Calming Presence (WC: 447 words)
[reducio]"Kit, you know you shouldn't do something like that." It was back in elementary school, after Kit had jumped off of the top of the play structure as a dare. She hadn't gotten hurt, but a teacher had spotted and told her parents about it. And so now she sat, listening to them scold again and thinking about other things. More important things in her opinion. "Isabelle wouldn't do such a thing." Katherine agreed with that, of course. Isabelle wouldn't do such a thing- but she didn't expect herself to be her older sister. So all she did was wait- and nothing else happened. She was let off and went back to playing around in the house. So why worry about expectations if all her parents would do was talk about it? Isabelle was already the better sibling, so why should Kit compete?

And with that, Katherine was generally a relaxed person- a care free person living a care free life. Sure, there was school and some stresses that came with it, but the witch didn't care about grades so long as it was passing. Plus, she had quite a few resources from her older sister and from her grandparents via owls. Her parents weren't pleased with low grades, but as Kit had never felt like the favorite of her parents, she learned to shrug it off like the other times her parents talked about disappointments. And since nothing was done asides from voicing disappointment, shrugging it off was easy. There was little punishment in Kit's world and so she could continue to be care free.

Instead, her focuses could be entirely on the activities she enjoyed- quidditch, music, and art. Everything else could remain at a passing as the second year spent most of her time working on what made her happy. The school-fun balance didn't shift much since first year, and yet it was enough to start something big. Her enjoyment in her activities and how she spent her time made her happier. And her happiness boosted confidence, conversations, and her care free nature. It created new friends and helped her find more activities that interested her, clubs that sounded really cool or muggle sports that she had never heard of before.

Her own contentment and happiness with her life changed how she held herself as she became a third year, no longer a new student yet not a role model either. This feeling and presence of her own calmness and relaxed nature could be felt by others around her- smiles to strangers, positive outlooks, and encouragement became more commonplace as she realized how it affected others, happy to spread her carefree nature to others.[/reducio][/quote]

Approved -- I added the wins with links as they need to be included in your trunk post moving forward. I added them for you, but moving forward please make sure to include it in your code.

NPC Name: Madhup Hexum
Link: viewtopic.php?t=16989
Year: Fifth Year
Stats: STA: 8 | EVA: 13 | STR: 12 | WIS: 3 | ARC: 3 | ACC: 15
+5 Stat Points from sports wins: X X X X X
Extracurricular: Quidditch player
Content Changes: +1 stam: duel win
Trunk Coding:

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Madhup Hexum - Durmstrang - Fifth Year - Half-Blood

Name: Madhup Hexum
School: Durmstrang
Year: Fifth
Extracurricular: Quidditch
Position: Chaser
Broom: Silver Arrow (+3 all stats)

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(Art commissioned from Lunad1viner @ Deviantart)

Appearance: At 5'1", Madhup is small yet durable, a lithe wizard more prone to feats of agility than strength. His chin-length hair is black, fluffy, often unkempt, always on the shaggy side. With sandy tan skin, eyes an odd blend of olive green and iron, he has a warm color palette often unbalanced by bold attire. The teen likes to be seen, proud of his flashy red uniform and fond of shiny accessories. More often than not, his expression is smug. (References)

Personality: Madhup spent his first few months at Durmstrang trying to convince others that his name translated to "Tiger". It was not long before the actual meaning was discovered: honeybee. Refusing to let his ego be bruised, the boy ran with the truth, boasting that his small size was compensated by a fierce sting. He was a showboat, a proud and cocky imp, letting criticism roll off of his back like water. Unfortunately, he reacted this way to all criticism, even the constructive sort, such as remarks from professors concerning poor grades. Some perceived him as loudmouthed and fun-seeking. Others know "Napoleon Syndrome" when they see it.

History:
Madhup swaggers about as if he is the prince of Durmstrang, but the truth of his origins could not be humbler. Unknowingly born a half-blood, he was raised by his father in India, a downtrodden muggle of a man. His primary profession was construction, though he was an independent laborer without the security of a company to uphold him. From a young age, Madhup followed his father to work, aiding with small tasks such as sweeping an area or digging for foundations, ditches, and pipe trenches. He was raised blissfully ignorant of the fact that his mother was a witch, for his father claimed to be "too pained" to speak of her in any capacity. He would take her true fate to his grave.

Poverty in India is tragically commonplace, but the life of an orphan is especially dire. Madhup spent months dodging the shoddy infrastructure of orphanages, instead running with a pack of other homeless children, living on dark and dangerous streets. They narrowly evaded those who would make leashed thieves of them, surviving on scraps often stolen from the market. He could not explain the occasional oddity that occurred around him, such as an angry merchant's switch falling flaccid when he tried to strike Madhup for pinching a sweet. These mysteries were forcibly overlooked until he was approached by a witch on his ninth birthday.

Naturally, it was difficult for a street child to believe he belonged to a world of magic. Yet the "tricks" this witchy woman showed him were too elaborate to be unreal, too fantastical, too tantalizing. As soon as Madhup was told this power could be his, he complied. Unable to rear children of her own, the Scandinavian witch, Thekla Hexum, took a particular interest in magical orphans. Madhup was legally adopted alongside a young witch from Italy (Leira) and an even younger wizard from Sweden (Felix). The three developed a healthy kind of competition. Felix was driven to become a healer, Leira strove to be a dangerous duellist, whereas Madhup endeavored to be "the greatest at all things", more often boasting about how he would surpass them rather than actually studying. Thekla secured his enrollment at Durmstrang, where the boy shows a keen interest in the dark arts above all. He does not discuss it, but Madhup is actively seeking the identity and whereabouts of his purportedly deceased mother.

Stats (55 total per sports wins: X X X X X)
STA: 9 | EVA: 13 | STR: 12 | WIS: 3 | ARC: 3 | ACC: 15

Foulplay: 25% chance that fouls will go unnoticed

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(WC: 428)
The survival of a street child is highly dependent upon cleverness. In order to thrive, it was imperative that Madhup have a silver tongue, nimble fingers, and a keen sense of situational awareness. When an unsuspecting stranger was dining outdoors, he learned how to deftly scoop their meal away when they were not looking. When slithering through a dense crowd, he could carefully pluck a wallet from any unguarded pocket. He grasped the importance of maintaining a calm expression, relaxed pace, and- if caught- a clueless tone with which he could feign absolute innocence. Dancing one's way out of a tricky situation was a talent he had honed. While most sensible sorts would interpret this as a negative trait, the boy was perfectly proud of this skill, and he would continue to practice it even after he was adopted. His new lifestyle meant matters of trickery were no longer necessary for getting through the day, but he was keen on using whatever means he could to ensure he got his way.

Madhup was never the most academic student, though he knew his access to extracurricular activities relied heavily upon his grades. He learned how different professors operated, how to speedily scan another student's papers for answers, when it was safe to chance a glance. When pulling pranks, a frequent "pastime", he knew how to scope an area, how to exit the scene of the crime, how to seem perfectly clueless when a culprit was sought. Madhup was as multifaceted as they come: a charming prankster to some, a greasy weasel to others, with motives ever unclear. If he could get away with it in the classroom, in a friendly game, or in the Quidditch stadium, cheating was practically always an option. Whatever a person's opinion of him may be, after his first year at Durmstrang, it was commonly known that one was better off not playing him at cards- or any other game- when a bet was involved. Perhaps if he put half as much effort into school studies as he did studying people, he would not have needed to cheat. But trickery had practically become a hobby of his. If one put so much effort into acquiring something, even if the method involved foul play, hadn't they essentially earned it in their own way?

Whether or not he took a risk was less based in whether it was a "necessary act". He did not often wonder if his pranks and antics were right or wrong: he worried about whether or not he could get away with them.

Interception: Automatic chance to Intercept a passed quaffle

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(WC): 431
Never knowing his witch mother, losing his muggle father at an early age, Madhup's formative years were spent in blissful ignorance of magic as a whole. The boy was not raised watching anyone depend upon the convenience of magic, nor was he under the impression that he would one day posses such a power. In his world, strength, speed, and cunning were the traits which assured he could survive and thrive. There was no arcane crutch to look forward to. So, carrying on as if he himself were a muggle, Madhup focused on honing himself physically. He would need a swift foot and strong situational awareness to get away with much of his mischief. But life was not all a mere matter of duration. Madhup was a lover of fun, he knew well the importance of play and was ever a lover of games. Fiercely competitive in all he did, the boy strove to be the best in all feats. One of his favorite games was Maaram Pitti, a sort of "no rules dodgeball". Everyone attempted to hit anyone with a ball, though there was no catching involved, only dodging and throwing with all of one's might. There was also tennis, which was slightly more of a novelty, as one needed to find a court and rackets rather than just a ball. But when they could get their hands on something flat for striking, the courts were easy enough to track down as they grew in popularity, some made with chalk lines and ratty repurposed fishing nets. While Madhup was not the strongest nor most strategic of his fellow wildlings, he compensated with swiftness and precision. Whether striking a birdy, throwing a ball through a hoop, dashing marbles together, or smashing a ball in the face of a friend, he had a keen eye when it came to accuracy. He could snatch a ball away from an opponent just as readily as he could grab a bit of food being tossed between mongers, both nimble and equally unafraid of the discomfort that could come with catching something at an awkward angle. It was a small price to pay for capturing whatever it was he wanted. Even after his adoption by Madame Hexum, when magic became a regular routine in his daily life, he would never give up his games. He seemed to know just how to sneak up on an opponent, waiting for that ideal moment when they were so sure their target was in their sights and reach, only for Madhup to burst between them when he was least expected.

Fearless: Immunity to fear effects such as terrible presence

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WC: 482

Courage had been a mask for most of Madhup's life.
Fake it 'til you make it was not the exact wording of his mantra, though the intent was more or less identical. It was his belief that he must show the world that he was brave, that he was cunning and capable of anything it may throw his way. If he was going to survive as an orphan, he could not allow the world to see his helplessness. If he was going to earn the respect of his Durmstrang peers, they could never know his struggle to comprehend their classes. If the Quidditch team was going to have confidence in him, he had to pretend to hold absolute confidence in himself. Bravery was an external thing, an expression, a trait worn like any other accessory. At least, that was how he had been led to regard it. Everything changed when the need to truly be brave reared its head: at long last, in his fourth year, he was to be shifted from a third-string player (practically the lowest on the roster, yet to see actual action) to an initial entry Chaser.

The news should have made him happy. That was not to say he wasn't glad at all; on the contrary, it was cause for celebration. But his foster mother knew better. The achievement did not inspire his usual breed of boasting, nor did the topic become his key contribution to all conversations like most of his fixations. What's wrong? The first time she'd asked, the standard Nothing was answered. The second time, more dismissive. The third instance, irritation. It was the fourth that cracked him. Madhup was afraid. What if he played poorly? They would all know he really was just a braggart, unable to uphold his words, incapable of living up to this vast persona he tried to paint of himself. He was already among the least accomplished casters in his grade. What if he couldn't do this right, either?

Tears had fallen, a factor which made him feel all the weaker, more exposed for what he really was. Years of insecurity and fear flowed freely at last. There was a catharsis in it, but more so in the talk to follow. Hadn't he survived being an orphan? Had he not finished three years of intense magic school already? Was he not being made a main Chaser? Even though he had been afraid deep down, felt he was faking it all along, he had still accomplished each of these things. It was alright to be afraid. This didn't mean that fearlessness was a mask, more that his kind of courage had been a crutch. He was ready to heal without it now, to walk with that certainty on the inside instead. Already he had survived so much, and if he'd done it before, he could do it time and again.

Calming Presence: Allies gain a 10% chance to auto-hit their chosen target

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WC: 406"Calm" was not a word often ascribed to Madhup Hexum. Bold, rambunctious, cocky, loud- these terms better encompassed the spectrum of bodacious narcissism often expressed by the wily wizard. In spite of himself however, when it came time to bolster his peers, Madhup had- with time and no shortage of personality development- learned to have a positive influence on those around him. He was not necessarily soothing, at least, not outright. He did not have a sweet melodic voice or gentle mannerisms to settle his allies. Rather, he had managed to weaponize his nonchalance, to project his own coping mechanisms. Jitters before a game were given shrugs and sly smiles. "I want to win, too," he would drawl, "but in the end, it is still just another a game. We win no matter what by not backing down." He had often been known for jeering at enemies, and shouting boisterously to his companions, but recent years had brought about this alternate approach. Calm, cool, collected... at least, when he needed to be. Madhup had learned to recognize that clench of anxiety in others, the doubt, the fear. He would not let it consume them, just as he had refused to let it control him. The lines he offered to others were often lines he said to himself. You have done this a hundred times before. It is easy. You remember exactly what to do. This time is no different. Snark and bravado had always come easily, but genuine confidence had been hard-earned through trial and perseverance. If there was one thing he had learned along the way, it was that he wanted others to feel the same way he did, to realize their true potential. He might have been something of a cheater in the past, sure... on quizzes, and in games, when he thought he could get away with foulplay. Yet he was also a compassionate teammate. That self-centric attitude was dwindling with age as he gained an understanding of empathy, particularly when he started to see younger years that reminded him a great deal of himself. Fiery, frightened upstarts who thought they had to bark louder than the person alongside them to be noticed, to earn their place in the grand scheme of Durmstrange. While he still was a rather rubbish spellcaster, Madhup was starting to realize his strengths, and to help those around him realize theirs. You want to succeed? Stick with me.