NPC Name: Élodie Dubois
Link: Here!
Year: Going to Second Year
Stats: 1st Year Stats: STA 6 / EVA 5/ STR 5 / WIS 8/ ARC 4/ ACC 7
New Stats (+5 for graduation): STA 6/ EVA 6/ STR 6/ WIS 9/ ARC 5/ ACC 8
Abilities:

1st Year Ability: Lovely Creature

Reducio

It was no secret that the young Dubois girl was pretty. Théo and Colette Dubois ensured their daughter looked perfect and flawless in whatever clothes or dress she wore. Her hair was always styled to perfection and her natural beauty was always enhanced with simple makeup. It was almost impossible to look away from her. As she grew up her parents also made sure she walked, talked, and did everything with elegance and excellence. Élodie was the picture-perfect image of a proper, young, pureblooded girl.

As the girl got older, she began to attend lavish pureblooded balls along with her parents and two older brothers. At each and every ball, as the Dubois family entered the room, eyes were drawn to Élodie. With her beauty and the air of grace around her, how could eyes not be drawn towards her? Boys wished that they could be with her. Girls wish they were her, jealous of all the attention Élodie received. And even the mothers in the room wished that their daughter could be more like her. Of course, Élodie played her part, smiling brightly and forcing herself to not be upset every time her parents tried to set her up with possible suitors at various balls.

Eventually, with the arrival of Célina, Élodie's youngest sibling, her parents paid more attention to the younger girl, attempting to make her just like her older sister. With the realization that her parents no longer watched her like a hawk, Élodie stopped trying to impress when she wasn't under the watchful eye of her parents. She had more freedom to do what she wanted (hence her secret love for quidditch). However, despite her efforts to shake away the multiple pairs of eyes that would follow her, she could never make it happen.

She was still in the spotlight, a reputation and a family name to uphold. Her beauty was still the first thing a person would notice as she walked into a room. When a boy approached her to tell her she was pretty, she fought the urge to roll her eyes. The compliment grew to be empty words. She knew she was pretty and she didn't care how many people pointed it out. Half the time, someone would only talk to her because she was pretty. And Élodie didn't like that.

She wanted real friends. Not fake ones who would only use her. She wanted someone to look past her beauty and get to know her as a person. She wanted someone who wanted her for her personality. Éldoie didn't want to be just another girl with a pretty face.

WC: 437

2nd Year Ability: Keen Eye

Reducio

Playing Quidditch with her brothers was one of Élodie's favorite things to do. Though of course, it had to be in secret. Théo and Colette Dubois thought no young lady should ever play something as improper as Quidditch. Except for Élodie, the fact that she's indulging in activities that her parents don't exactly approve of only, made it more exhilarating. Sneaking out of their estate to their tree-surrounded makeshift pitch with Éliott and André, the three brooms under Élodie's arms and the case that held the quaffle, two bludgers, and the snitch, carried between the two boys.

What she loved even more than sneaking out with her two older brothers, were the fun games they played with each other as they taught Élodie how to ride a broom and play the game that she fell in love with. The trio would play keep-away with the quaffle, compete on who could do the best broom tricks, who could hit the bludger the furthest before it came back, and her personal favorite, a competition of who could spot and catch the snitch first. However, Élodie's opinion might be slightly biased since she was spectacular at spotting the snitch and getting to it quickly. Her small stature helped her out with that.

Her eyes could always catch the golden glint of the snitch in her vision, immediately taking off in a speedy attempt to catch the small golden ball first. As she continued playing the game with her brothers, she only got better at spotting the snitch. She got so good at it that if she randomly took off flying quickly while playing the game, her two brothers would follow her path as fast as they could, truly believing that their younger sister had once again spotted the oh-so-familiar golden glint. Élodie would always laugh and tease the two for falling for her trick, ending their game once she'd actually gotten sight of the ball.

When Élodie finally admitted to her brothers that she wanted to try out for the Quidditch team at Beauxbatons, Éliott and André had been incredibly supportive. However, when she wondered what she should try out for, both boys stared at her like she had grown two heads, stating that Seeker was the perfect position for her and that she'd proven over and over that she had the eye for spotting the snitch. Of course, Élodie was unsure, and to prove their point, the trio played their game, Élodie coming out victorious as she always did.

WC: 417

Extracurricular: Still a Seeker
Content Changes: None
Trunk Coding: Updated Code Link Here

Approved Magdalena 29 June 2024

Approved - Magdalena 29 June 2024

[center][size=150][color=#400080]JAMIE CARVILLE[/color][/size][/center]
[center]❂━━━━━❂━━━━━❂━━━━━❂━━━━━❂━━━━━❂[/center]

[b][u]STATS[/u][/b]
sta • 7 | eva • 8 | str • 9 | wis • 5 | arc • 1 | acc • 10

[b][u]SPORTS[/u][/b]
BROOM RACER  | [i]no[/i]
QUIDDITCH PLAYER | [i]yes[/i]
DUELLIST | [i]no[/i]

[b][u]ABILITIES[/u][/b]

[u]Evasive manouvers[/u]
[reducio]Jamie strived to be the best at everything, this meant that when she set her mind to something she would do it until she got it right and perfect. One of the things she had set her mind to was becoming very nimble, she would do drills with her dad to try and improve her reflexes and she would try to practice everyday by having someone throw something at her and trying to dodge it. It began with her handing her mom and dad a small soft ball each, which she told them to throw at her. They did, and they continued to do so under her request until she could evade them without too much effort. That escalated to her asking them to throw them at her without prior warning.

This proved to be more tricky, and she would get pelted with soft balls all the time. But her parents, who encouraged her to strive for greatness and to not stop until she achieved her goals, encouraged her to keep going. Although she didn't necessarily need their encouragement as she was set on doing this, but it was always nice to hear them telling her to not give up.

After a while she was able to dodge about half of them, mostly because she could seen them coming from the corners of her eyes. The ones that were launched from behind her she never was quite able to dodge, if she did it was mostly by accident and she didn't even know she'd been a target until it whizzed passed her.

So she kept training, and after even more time any time she could spot something a ball coming towards her trying to hit her she could dodge it. It had even become a second nature, that she wouldn't even realise she'd dodge it until she moved out of the way to let the ball pass her by.

Once she'd hit this point, she'd asked her parents to try launching other things at her, just to see if that went as well. They started throwing other soft stuff, but bigger or smaller to see if she could still dodge those. The bigger things she could see easier, but dodge harder due to the size. The smaller things on the other hand were easier to dodge but harder to see. But even those after a while became easier to see and easier to dodge.

Having been practising dodging for so long it had become second nature to her, and even now she had become a lot harder to hit than people might expect. [/reducio]

[u]Charmer[/u]
[reducio]A look here, a stare there, Jamie had noticed during her first year at Beauxbatons that it seemed like people where distracted by her as she walked through the school halls. She would use this to her full advantage though, sneaking past people as they would be too busy looking at her than to question why she was going the way she was going, being able to convince people to do something she wanted them to do. All things that worked to her advantage, and made her life ever so slightly easier at school. 

Thinking back on life before school she had started remembering times this had happened before as well. Convincing the tutor to teach her things that she wasn't supposed to be learning about yet, or having an acquaintance take the fall for something she did. She hadn't realised she did it at the time, but now that she was aware of this power, her charm, as one might call it, it made her want to perfect it, to make sure that she could be the best that she could be whatever that might take. 

So she started trying some things out, firstly seeing someone in the hallway she'd interacted with a few times and noticing that they were eating a few sweets. The perfect test subject. The bag was nearly empty signalling that they liked the sweets, and from the previous interaction Jamie knew that the person didn't share their food at all. So off she went, and she went to talk to them. Just regular small talk, with a bit of playfulness added in, and she noticed that immediately they seemed somewhat distracted during the conversation, maybe it was the jokes she threw in, or the way she said certain things that she knew they were interested in, but they were definitely less on guard than before. And before she knew it, she was walking away with a handful of the sweets they had been holding. Happily chomping away on them.  

Of course, one test wouldn't be enough, so she decided to test it during a Quidditch match. She talked to all of the opponents beforehand, being friendly and confident with them, her opponents gladly talking with her. Asking them what they liked and overal being quite charming. Which meant that during the match, when one of her opponents had the quaffle and was attempting to get to the goal to score, and she went after them getting right in their space and smiling, reciting something they'd said during the conversation prior to the match, a small smile spreading across her opponents face. Distracting them just enough for her to snatch the quaffle out of their hands and passing it to her teammate, leading to her team scoring. 

All in all, she had come to the conclusion that if she was confident, nice, charming and used the information others gave her to her advantage she could pretty much get anything she would need. Something would require more effort than others of course, but to be the best she would do that no questions asked. [/reducio]

PENDING - Marcus Iwasaki, July 1

Your charmer ability is approved, however I noticed a mistake was made in the stat allocation. You have 11 accuracy, which breaks the stat cap of 10 for second years. Apologies if this was approved beforehand, but we do need you to redistribute that 1 point elsewhere. Please add in a stat update to the above form and update the trunk code to get final approval here.

APPROVED - Marcus Iwasaki, July 1

NPC Name: Raphael Aveline
Link: Dun dun dun
Year: 6
Stats:
Old: Sta 8 ᚐ Eva 17 ᚐ Str 15 ᚐ Wis 5 ᚐ Arc 0 ᚐ Acc 18
New: Sta 8 - Eva 20 - Str 16 - Wis 5 - Arc 0 - Acc 20
(+6: +5 from Graduation + 1 duelling win)

Abilities: None yet

Extracurricular: Still sticking to racing

Content Changes: N/A

Trunk Coding:

Reducio

Code: Select all

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[size=150][COLOR=#9c7749]S[/COLOR][COLOR=#916f44]t[/COLOR][COLOR=#86663f]a[/COLOR][COLOR=#7b5e39]t[/COLOR][COLOR=#6f5534]s[/COLOR] [COLOR=#644d2f]&[/COLOR] [COLOR=#59442a]A[/COLOR][COLOR=#4e3c25]b[/COLOR][COLOR=#43331f]i[/COLOR][COLOR=#382b1a]l[/COLOR][COLOR=#2d2215]i[/COLOR][COLOR=#211a10]t[/COLOR][COLOR=#16110a]i[/COLOR][COLOR=#0b0905]e[/COLOR][COLOR=#000000]s[/COLOR][/size]

ꕤ

[b]Sta[/b] 8 [COLOR=#5e472c]ᚐ[/COLOR] [b]Eva[/b] 20 [COLOR=#5e472c]ᚐ[/COLOR] [b]Str[/b] 16 [COLOR=#5e472c]ᚐ[/COLOR] [b]Wis[/b] 5 [COLOR=#5e472c]ᚐ[/COLOR] [b]Arc[/b] 0 [COLOR=#5e472c]ᚐ[/COLOR] [b]Acc[/b] 20
[size=90][url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?f=16&t=15247&p=243862#p243862]×[/url] [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=371279#p371279]×[/url] [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=427470#p427470]×[/url] [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=463143#p463143]×[/url] [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=593834#p593834]×[/url] [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=681700#p681700]×[/url] [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=736641#p736641]×[/url] [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=784009#p784009]×[/url] [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=960694#p960694]×[/url][/size]

The Muggle Condition [COLOR=#5e472c]ᚐ[/COLOR] Fearless [COLOR=#5e472c]ᚐ[/COLOR] Evasive Maneuvers I + II
Obnoxiously Strong
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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][center]ꕤ[/center]Obnoxiously Strong [size=75][612 words][/size]
[reducio]There's always this one person around you that pushes you to do better, set your goals higher, work to be the best self you can be. Or at least, everyone should have a person like that.

Raphael never thought he'd need one. He'd been perfectly content pushing himself where it mattered, training by himself to be faster, more nimble, more accurate (while, of course, completely neglecting other school work). And then he'd met Cassie, her relentless enthusiasm and energy. At first, he'd mostly respected her as a fellow broomracer and football fan. They'd started playing together and training together, until one day, he'd turned to laugh at one of her jokes, and realised that they were probably friends. (Surprise?) In the last year, however, their relationship had turned into something even more... weird. 

It had started because Raphael had decided he needed to build up some muscle mass to be a better broomracer, and thus he had allocated half of his trunk for weight training equipment when he'd returned from summer break in 2022. (The trunk had been ridiculously heavy, and his poor non-magical father had been cursing non-stop while heaving it out of his car when he'd dropped Raphael off for the new school year.)

Cassie had, of course, quickly figured out what he was doing - the fact that he'd been using the nice weather to work out outside had possibly tipped her off - and, since she was almost-as or perhaps even-more serious about broomracing (depending on who you asked) as he was, had immediately decided to join, or rather, beat him, to both Raphael's bemusement and amusement. It was Cassie, so... he supposed he didn't mind her inserting herself into his workout sessions.

As things tended to go, it quickly turned into a mix between competition and ridiculous sort of game between them. They would compete on who could do more reps with weights, more squats, more push-ups, and then, of course, the most prestigious class of silly rivalries: Who could do more pull-ups in more absurd locations. The bar he'd brought to lock into doorframes was only the beginning, and to no one's surprise, it was Cassie who suggested taking things to the - as she put it - [i]next level[/i]. But then, Raphael certainly hadn't resisted the escalation of events, and couldn't deny that some of the competitive spirit he brought to football games and broomraces was starting to infect him here, too.

So they did pull-ups on their brooms, floating a not very dangerous but certainly not very prudent distance above ground. Cassie won that one, Raph's hand, slick with sweat, had slipped after a few, and he'd fallen two meters to the ground. They did pull-ups on doorframes, which was perhaps less dangerous, but also more difficult, as there was less grip to cling to. Raph had secured a win there, his finger strength proving superior. And, finally, they did pull-ups on the Quidditch hoops. Raph could later not recall with any certainty who had come up with that one, although he was inclined to blame Cassie. At least they'd come up with a safety net of sorts, that would save them from plummeting almost 10 meters to the ground if they fell. (Which, needless to say, they did.)

All of said competition did have one big advantage, however: The training definitely worked. The exercises became easier, so he adjusted the difficulty; he increased his pull-up capabilities from three to seven to nine. Weights got heavier, workouts got longer... and if he got into the habit of slightly flexing his newly acquired muscles whenever a pretty girl walked past, well, who could blame him?
[right][size=75]Mentions of Cassie Heather McGregor-Martin approved by @Lucia Fox.[/size][/right][/reducio]

APPROVED - Marcus Iwasaki, July 1

NPC Name: Katherine Felix
Link: here!
Year: 5th year
Stats: current: Stamina: 10 | Evasion: 12 | Strength: 13 | Wisdom: 4 | Arcane Power: 0 | Accuracy: 15
+5 accuracy, + 1 evasion (graduation, +1 from duel win (5 total extra))
new: Stamina: 10 | Evasion: 13 | Strength: 13 | Wisdom: 4 | Arcane Power: 0 | Accuracy: 20
Abilities: Rapid Reviver (466 words)

Reducio

In classes, Kit only ever paid enough attention to hear when the class would be dismissed, straightening up from her slouched boredom to pack the very few things she set out on her desk and taking off towards the outdoors. Quidditch and its adjacent activities were the only things the Beauxbatons student cared about, wishing to run about and feel the speed after spending the morning still and stuck in place. To feel that rush, to feel that drive, to share in that group effort and determination. She strided out, picked up her broom, and headed off to find her team or to the track that circled around the school.

Speed had never been an issue. Kit wasn't necessarily the fastest, but she could rush forward on her broom with little hesitation towards obstacles and dangers, just barely steering out of the way to not collide as sharp turns found the rewards of quaffle scores, blatches, or saved teammates. But it would be stamina, that continued strain, that would always find her. The waking up in the school's hospital, blinking awake as she learned of the newest injury that had sent her tumbling out of the sky. Kit would always laugh at the stories or applaud her teammates for their efforts, but there had always been a little annoyance at the back of her mind. How she couldn't just keep going- find that last little bit of strength.

She wasn't the only one. The now fifth year had taken on the role of saving people, keeping them in the game just a little longer. It was her own goals returned back to the others, a smile whenever she managed to bring someone back to their broom and watch them perfect their skills. But there were also times when Kit had to continue to let them fall, consciousness drifting long before they reached the ground. Surely they felt the same way that Kit did when she woke up, that pride in the team yet the edge of bitterness over their own accomplishments. Well, if Kit couldn't get that feeling, then at least she could try and give it to others. It would take a few tips from the nurses in the hospital plus many failed attempts, but eventually someone would fall from their broom with eyes already shuttered close and Kit would race over to catch them. Through some jostling, shaking, and determination- those eyes would blink open to see the back of Kit, a few strands of red hair whipping through the air as the rest struggled to stay within the semi-secured space buns. They'd hear a small laugh, before Kit guided them back to their broom- a gentle yet quick return to the conscious world. A chance to continue the fight even after the end.

Extracurricular: No change (still quidditch player)
Content Changes: N/A
Trunk Coding:

Reducio

Code: Select all

[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: 10 | Evasion: 13 | Strength: 13 | Wisdom: 4 | Arcane Power: 0 | Accuracy: 20

(+5 from duelling wins ([url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=13876&start=50#p222151]1[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=20756&start=30#p406326]2[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=889047#p889047]3[/url]) & quidditch wins ([url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=21955&start=80#p460013]1[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=775004#p775004]2[/url]))[/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]Savior (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]Evasive Maneuvers II (WC: 441 words)
[reducio]Kit was a little miffed by her summer quidditch performance. While she saved the seeker and scored one goal in a rather short game, that was the extent of her achievements when the intention had been to save three people and perhaps score a few more shots. How underwhelming. Still, it gave the Beauxbatons student a new goal and something to aim towards- she probably couldn't learn how to carry more people on her broom, but practicing how to ride precisely and efficiently while weaving through the pitch would certainly help. The French school didn't have much in the way of a training pitch, but they did have an impressive racing track and a hedge maze.

And so that was how the girl trained, spending additional time outside of her normal practice to bob and weave through the mountain tunnels and hoops, occasionally offering for other students to hit bludgers at her or throw things at her that she needed to catch- just to make things a little more complicated. While the new practice included many trips to the medic ward as she crashed into the sides of the rockface or got hit by a particularly bad bludger, these visits grew less frequent with time. From shakily flying through the course to bobing and weaving at high speeds, it was clear that the additional practice mixed with the usual sports routine had advanced her precision and technique. It came with the added benefit of being able to dodge bludgers a little easier as she didn't want to get hit along the way to save someone falling from the sky nor slow down in case they got too low to thr ground and Kit could no longer catch them.

Her focus improved her flying, but the student also realized that it helped in other situations. Getting precise movements on a broom meant proper balance and quick calculated moves and leans to get the right direction, easily translating to her own balance and quick moves on land. Moving at such speeds required quick glances and decisions, helping both when targeted by bludgers, spells, or pushy students in crowded halls. While a little different, the observation allowed her to find a new practice for this curious skill. Kit had little skill in dueling, but she could offer herself up to be a training target and learn a little from the other duelists who had to duck, spin, and roll away from spells on a daily basis. It did mean seeing the mediwizards again after she had just reduced her visits, but now the Beauxbatons student knew how to evade both in the sky and on land.[/reducio]Rapid Reviver (WC: 466 words)
[reducio]In classes, Kit only ever paid enough attention to hear when the class would be dismissed, straightening up from her slouched boredom to pack the very few things she set out on her desk and taking off towards the outdoors. Quidditch and its adjacent activities were the only things the Beauxbatons student cared about, wishing to run about and feel the speed after spending the morning still and stuck in place. To feel that rush, to feel that drive, to share in that group effort and determination. She strided out, picked up her broom, and headed off to find her team or to the track that circled around the school.

Speed had never been an issue. Kit wasn't necessarily the fastest, but she could rush forward on her broom with little hesitation towards obstacles and dangers, just barely steering out of the way to not collide as sharp turns found the rewards of quaffle scores, blatches, or saved teammates. But it would be stamina, that continued strain, that would always find her. The waking up in the school's hospital, blinking awake as she learned of the newest injury that had sent her tumbling out of the sky. Kit would always laugh at the stories or applaud her teammates for their efforts, but there had always been a little annoyance at the back of her mind. How she couldn't just keep going- find that last little bit of strength.

She wasn't the only one. The now fifth year had taken on the role of saving people, keeping them in the game just a little longer. It was her own goals returned back to the others, a smile whenever she managed to bring someone back to their broom and watch them perfect their skills. But there were also times when Kit had to continue to let them fall, consciousness drifting long before they reached the ground. Surely they felt the same way that Kit did when she woke up, that pride in the team yet the edge of bitterness over their own accomplishments. Well, if Kit couldn't get that feeling, then at least she could try and give it to others. It would take a few tips from the nurses in the hospital plus many failed attempts, but eventually someone would fall from their broom with eyes already shuttered close and Kit would race over to catch them. Through some jostling, shaking, and determination- those eyes would blink open to see the back of Kit, a few strands of red hair whipping through the air as the rest struggled to stay within the semi-secured space buns. They'd hear a small laugh, before Kit guided them back to their broom- a gentle yet quick return to the conscious world. A chance to continue the fight even after the end.[/reducio][/quote]

APPROVED - Marcus Iwasaki, July 1

PENDING - Marcus Iwasaki, July 1

Your character is a halfblood but it is not clear which parent is magical (or if both are). Please make this clarification in your backstory.

We need you to include what age your character experienced her first instance of magic.

Your character does not have any stats. We need you to allocate 35 stats across evasion, accuracy, stamina, arcane power, wisdom and strength. At least 1 point must be in stamina.

Approved July 2 (Lear)
Encyclopedia can be found here.

NPC Name: Phelan Emile
Link: here
Year: 2
Stats: Old- Stamina: 5
Evasion: 7
Strength: 5
Wisdom: 6
Arcane Power: 6
Accuracy: 6
Updated- Stamina: 6
Evasion: 7
Strength: 6
Wisdom: 7
Arcane Power: 7
Accuracy: 7
Abilities: Applying for terrible presence

Reducio

WC: 410/400
Phelan Emile couldn’t help but notice he was beginning to develop a sort of a reputation. He had always been a quiet boy, preferring to be by himself or with a few very close friends. When forced to socialize with children his age, he would smile, shyly, maybe introduce himself unprompted, but after that let others do the talking. But after his mother passed away when he was eight, he began to withdraw socially even more. He believed that no one could ever understand what he was going through, and eventually, that no one could understand him. He even thought this of his closest friends. His friends couldn’t always support him because they were all either homeschooled or didn’t go to the same school. Maybe he would have been able to get through the depression and feelings of isolation if not for the reactions he received from his peers, when he was teased when caught crying about his mother. He was also bullied at school because his peers considered him to be odd. He didn’t like sports, but preferred reading and collecting flowers during free time at school. He set up mental defenses and convinced himself he didn’t owe anything to anyone who didn’t care about him, and certainly not strangers.

His relationship with his father didn’t help. The man was very much like his son. Maybe it was for this reason that they didn’t often get along. Unfortunately for the boy, Severin Emile thought the best way to raise his son after his mother’s death was to practice ‘tough love’ . It came out too harsh for the grieving boy, and Phelan began to resent his father. He didn’t have a very good relationship with his father either, which may have been another source. Though Serverin was certainly not a blood purist, he thought it was important to raise his son like any wealthy pureblood, and Phelan often felt criticized by his father’s standards.

Whereas he used to be seen as just shy and maybe a little strange, by the time he got to Beauxbatons, people had begun to actually avoid him. There was something about the way he never said a word, maybe the way he carried himself, that he had begun to realize scared people. In addition, he was rather impulsive and couldn’t help himself from saying whatever came to him, even if it was rude. At this point, the boy didn’t care. It was a vicious cycle.

APPROVED - Marcus Iwasaki, July 1

NPC Name: Enzo Delcroix
Link: link to NPC page
Year: 5th
Stats: N/A
Abilities: N/A
Extracurricular: Duellist
Content Changes: N/A
Trunk Coding:

Code: Select all

[quote][quote][b][center][img]/images/upload/8wsivt.webp[/img][/center][/b][/quote]

[quote][center][b][i]STATS[/i][/b][/center][center][color=#ada17b]──────────────────────[/color][/center][center]Stamina • 5 [color=#ada17b]|[/color] Evasion • 8 [color=#ada17b]|[/color] Strength • 5 [color=#ada17b]|[/color] Wisdom • 16 [color=#ada17b]|[/color] Arcane Power • 14 [color=#ada17b]|[/color] Accuracy • 11[/center][center][i]duellist[/i][/center][/quote]
[center][b][i] year i. [/i][/b] [/center][center][color=#ada17b]────────────────────────────────[/color][/center][center][i]terrible presence [/i]⇩[/center][reducio]Enzo’s bored looking facial expressions and short tempered attitude is something that is quite noticeable once he enters a room. His mother always scolded him for acting the way he did, but he couldn’t help it; it was impossible for him to put on a fake smile or act like he was happy and excited when being talked to by others. “Be more friendly, be more social” these words that his mother told him were played in his head like a record, over and over and over again. But the only reason she asked this of him was so her idiotic friends would compliment her on what a nice son she has. So did he care? Not in the slightest. All it did was anger him to no end. Why does he have to change who he is? If she didn’t like who he was she should have raised him better. At least that is what he thought. How did she expect him to be a peppy enthusiastic boy who prances around eagerly all the time? She was the one who sheltered him from the whole world because he's 'a weak little boy wouldn’t be able to survive in such a cruel society'. Although he never spoke back or talked out of turn to his elders, he always had a whirlwind of unpleasant comments rushing through his brain. When he did get the chance to meet other kids, most of the time they did not talk to him voluntarily, since they seemed kind of weary of him, like he’d bite their head off or something. In all honesty, he wasn’t a cruel or a particularly mean kid, I guess you could say he just had something that was off about him. One thing that was clear to everyone who met the family was that Enzo had an uncanny resemblance to his father. Although his father wasn't around much, when he was Enzo found himself looking up to him. He wasn't the best role model in the slightest but he was Enzo's father after all.
So not only from looks, he resembled his father, but also because he had started to gain a lot of similar qualities to him. His father had an odd effect on people as well, but in his case, it was much stronger and more evident. It was obvious that the people he would talk to get easily intimidated by his presence and become rather uneasy. Enzo wanted to be able to do the same thing since he knew he could use it to his advantage. He knew if he had that edge to him he could effortlessly get people to leave him alone and was pretty much oblivious to that fact that he already somewhat was.
[/reducio][center][b][i] year ii. [/i][/b] [/center][center][color=#ada17b]────────────────────────────────[/color][/center][center][i]comprehend languages (parseltongue) [/i]⇩[/center][reducio]Growing up in the Delcroix household would have been truly unbearable if Enzo had not taught himself to stop wallowing in his own pity and try to find a few small things that interested him and gave him something to do.
Whereas a more typical kid may have found it boring, even the things like discovering how there was a world of knowledge tucked away upstairs gave him a rare feeling of excitement.
In fact, after that particular discovery, he spent most of his free time in the attic, entertaining himself by scavenging through rows upon rows of the dusty forgotten books up there, and it eventually happened to grow to be his favourite and most treasured pastimes.

One day when he had escaped the clutches of his tutor earlier than usual, he snuck upstairs and picking up where he left off, continued rummaging through and investigating a couple more boxes of books when one specifically caught his eye, but he couldn’t put a finger on what exactly had stood out to him. Perhaps it was how its spine was slightly peeling off from being quite obviously well-loved, or how its delicate pages were just yearning to be turned, but nonetheless, whatever it was he wanted it. So, he proceeded to stash it away in the inside of his sweater for later when he would go back to his room and be able to properly examine it.

Later that night, before he went to sleep, he pulled the book out to look at it again as planned. Unfortunately, the title was somewhat faded so all he could make out from it was the word “languages” but, his original inclination to read the book, had surprisingly still had not wavered. When he finally opened the book and began to read, he was in an instant swallowed by its contents, and consumed with fascination.
The book was filled with all sorts of details on magical languages and even had the basics for learning some of them. However, after skimming through it and everything it spoke about, the section in regards to Parseltongue was the most captivating to him by far.
So, then suddenly devoted to understanding more about Parseltongue, all the nights following that day had been spent secretly learning and memorizing each page from front to back, as well as attempting to mutter to himself the sounds of simple words. Though he did struggle with that aspect quite a bit, he still did his best to guess the annunciations.

The day he knew that he was actually making progress was when his mother had taken him out for a short visit to the zoo. After all that time of trying to learn parseltongue, he really wanted to test out what he had learnt and see if he was advancing properly. So day after day he had pleaded with his parents to take him to the zoo and reasoned with them that it would be beneficial to his studies. Not knowing that he had an ulterior motive, they finally agreed. The moment they got there he instantly rushed over to where the snakes were kept and went as close to the glass as possible to see if he could hear them. To his great delight he had made out some words here and there and that definitely helped motivate him to continue learning for he knew he was on the right track.

As time went on there was ultimately nothing new left to read in that book, so it practically became a mission of his to find more books on the matter and find out as much information as possible. And in the end, he unexpectedly succeeded, to the point where he was actually pretty confident in his ability to grasp the essentials of parseltongue.
While never getting the chance to meet a real Parselmouth to practice with, alongside not telling anyone of his developing skill, all that was left to him was what the books enclosed, which stopped him from ever being able to speak fluently.
But on the upside, it was not that bothersome to him for he frankly impressed himself with figuring out how to just understand. 

Funnily enough though, even after all he knew, he fancied the process so much that he was not intending to stop searching for more knowledge anytime soon.
[/reducio][center][b][i] year iii. [/i][/b] [/center][center][color=#ada17b]────────────────────────────────[/color][/center][center][i]fearless[/i] ⇩[/center][reducio]Enzo, quite frankly, was just too unbothered to be afraid. Fear was not really a concept to him, for you usually had to care to feel such an emotion. Most commonly it would be triggered and brought forth by the sensation of intimidation or by feeling threatened in situations that are not under your control, neither of which Enzo felt he was truly ever at risk of. Even in the case that he was, Enzo was the type of person to sarcastically laugh in the face of danger. In his mind he saw it as why add an unnecessary emotion to a situation out of your hands, that will cause nothing but more distress and more uneasiness.

Enzo always thought it to be a weak and a sorry excuse for an attempt of displaying some type of bravado, quite like the way a peacock will spread and show off its tail feathers, when others used intimidation to instil fear in those opposing them. It was a dramatic performance with nothing of substance to back it up. Same went for the people who would yell or scream when in arguments, throwing around empty words as a means to prove a point. It was just silly, and Enzo could see them for what they truly were. In the harshest and most straightforward terms terrified and insecure themselves.

When it came to fear in a more physical sense however, Enzo was still not fazed. If tossed into a high stakes environment such as a broom race or something of that sort, while some people's anxiety or anticipation may be brewing and stirring negative thoughts within them like a bubbly hot cauldron, he rather preferred to upcycle it and use the very same adrenaline and channel it into doing his absolute best. Fear was a large obstacle and would try its very hardest to stop people from reaching their highest potential, but Enzo would not be a victim of it no matter what.

It was likely a trait he received from both his parents, for there was no doubt in his mind that however tough and stoic they were, when he looked at his mother and father he saw two incredibly bold and unwavering people, who shied away from nothing and no one. He deeply admired that quality, because carrying yourself with such an air of confidence and poise left little to no room for anyone to ever question you. Enzo could appreciate that, hence it was something he always wanted for himself too.
[/reducio][center][b][i] year iv. [/i][/b] [/center][center][color=#ada17b]────────────────────────────────[/color][/center][center][i]perfectionist[/i] ⇩[/center][reducio]Perhaps it was the judgemental eyes of his parents, or the many hours of gruelling tutoring sessions, or even an arrogant strive to always be the best. Frankly in truth it might even be an amalgamation of all. But nevertheless, Enzo wanted to not just be good but excel greatly at everything and anything he picked up. He had no patience nor tolerance for mistakes. Mistakes were a waste of time, time that could have been spent bettering himself in something else. 

On the one hand it was indeed a rather big flaw. It influenced his character in such a way where Enzo rarely would accept when he was in the wrong, and would do much to avoid ever finding himself in such scenarios. He was extremely headstrong and once he had made up his mind, it would take far too much to convince him otherwise. 

However on the other hand, there was always positivity to be found if you looked close enough. Underneath all the facade of desperately needing things to go the way he wanted, Enzo’s meticulousness was also able to push him for the better. It gave him the skills of being detail oriented, thorough and precise, enabling him to succeed exceptionally in areas of his choosing. 

Take his studies for example. Outside of school, all on his very own, from just rereading and memorizing word for word a few dusty old books he found hidden away in his attic, he was able to grasp the fundamentals of parseltongue without any help or verbal assistance from anyone. Enzo had been so fascinated and determined to learn the language of snakes, that he spent every free second he had perfecting and revising the knowledge that was accessible to him. Consuming his mind wholly, he did not rest properly until he had done so. 

Not to mention, it surely was an asset when it came to school. Especially since he was growing older now and the workload was ever increasing, it was a motivator both good and bad, that pushes him no matter how bored or uninterested he was feeling, to sit down and practice practice practice, until he was confident he would reach or surpass his own expectations. 

The feeling of knowing that you could have done something better, studied a little harder, revised a bit longer, was a torment like no other. It was the one true enemy and ultimate nemsis of perfectionism, and Enzo was constantly seeking to slay it for good.
[/reducio][center][b][i] year v. [/i][/b] [/center][center][color=#ada17b]────────────────────────────────[/color][/center][center][i]non-verbal magic [/i]⇩[/center][reducio]If anyone, Enzo was the last person who would ever shy away from intense concentration and discipline. He loved a challenge, as a matter of fact he yearned for it, because why would you ever want to stay just mediocre. A challenge meant you had a goal and something to work towards, an opportunity to be better. Without that he would feel lost, without a way or a sense of direction, like he was blindfolded and dropped into the middle of the deep sea with no land for miles in any direction.

Magic was certainly a fickle thing, it did not particularly like to be controlled, you were more like its conduit than its master and Enzo did well to recognize that early on. He was always driven to achieve great lengths with its practice and as such would immediately jump on every opportunity he had to exercise the skills he was learning at school.

As his fifth year drew closer and he was obviously becoming very confident and comfortable with his current range of abilities, he decided it was time to begin his deep dive into how he could push himself to the next level. 

It was certainly quite the undertaking for regular casting already took a lot of attentiveness and focus, but Enzo was determined to master the art of spell casting without uttering a word or even a sound aloud. It was a feat he loved witnessing because it appeared so effortless but in truth it was a pure display of mental strength.

So, he began practicing right away. He would search for a quiet place, where even a pin drop could be heard, so that he would be able to be fully immersed in complete silence with nothing but the sound of his own thoughts, in order to obtain absolute focus. He would close his eyes and inhale deeply before first envisioning the incantation of the spell that he wanted to cast, and then would clearly enunciate the sounds in his mind as if he was reading it audibly for the very first time. However, patience was the key.

He repeated this process a countless amount of times with different spells, clinging on to the elation of seeing his wand flicker briefly with a silent recitation of “lumos”, or an object twitch following his distinct thought of the word “accio”, until he was able to perform each spell just as he would have with his voice.
[/reducio][/quote]

APPROVED - Marcus Iwasaki, July 1

Is your character a Broom Racer? NO.
Is your character a Quidditch Player? YES.
Is your character a Duelist? NO.

stamina 15 | evasion 6 | strength 15 | wisdom 4 | arcane power 6 | accuracy 12
(+7 from Broom Racing wins ([url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=366396#p366396]x[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=21902&start=60#p461388]x[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=23370&start=90#p572413]x[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=25373&start=90#p696791]x[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=27288&start=60#p751928]x[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=29699&start=60#p863345]x[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=956698#p956698]x[/url]); +1 from Quidditch win ([url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=28321&start=80#p775004]x[/url]))

[u]Abilities: [/u]
Calming Presence [442 words]

[reducio]In his neighborhood in Saint Cloud, Quentin was an obvious target for bullies. His dad spoke funny and didn't seem to know much about Parisian culture. Some eviler bullies would even mention his dead mom. To make it worse, Quentin seemed to take after his dad, sometimes copying his dad's Cajun accent or talking with too much emotion. To make it even worse, Quentin's grandmother often took him to plays and ballets, and once even enrolled him in ballet (which he, unfortunately, excelled at and enjoyed). He was just too silly not to make fun of.

At first, Quentin was unsure how to deal with the bullies. He often didn't understand what they were trying to make of fun, and his questioning of their remarks led them to make fun of him even harder. He was often referred to as the "pauvre americain" (poor American), even though he had never been to his father's home. At age seven, the bullying was at its peak, and Quentin asked his father for advice. Eloi told his son that bullies want to make you feel bad because they feel bad about themselves, and the whole process makes them feel better. But if you don't feel bad, and you let the bullies know that, they can't get their satisfaction. Eloi gave Quentin the English expression, "kill 'em with kindness."

Quentin excelled at kindness. He laughed at every insult, sincerely thanking his bullies for their kind words. The worse the bully, the more unexpected kind acts Quentin would do for them. One time, a boy named Marcel dunked his head in the toilet. As Quentin came up for air, he whooped and asked Marcel if they could go again—Marcel was confused by the other boy's sincerity. Even more perplexing, Quentin then began to explain to Marcel the concept of a water park—Marcel tried to explain that he had been to one before but Quentin didn't seem to be listening. Quentin explained that a swirly was a poor imitation of the real thing. He offered to take Marcel to a nearby water park; Eloi had bought an extra ticket. Marcel was confused but accepted, and enjoyed a perfectly wonderful day with Quentin and Eloi. He no longer could bring himself to dunk anyone's head in a toilet.

He has a way of detecting exactly what someone would need to make them feel better—the playground tormenters became his friends. Everyone feels at ease around Quentin. He wears his feelings and motives on his sleeve—and they're never too complicated. People are able to trust his intentions, and he never seems to falter in his calm demeanor in a difficult situation.[/reducio]

Muggle Condition: [429 words]
[reducio]While Quentin's grandmother tried to instill in him all the principles that make a good high-class wizard, Quentin's muggle father kept him grounded. At his father's house, Quentin has access to the muggle internet, and his father spends a lot of their quality time teaching Quentin about his home in Louisiana. One of Quentin's dreams is to visit the U.S. and see the gaters and catfish and New Orleans history that his father loves to talk to him about. It didn't help his grandmother's cause that he went to a muggle primary school before Beauxbatons, where he was about to further his muggle tendencies. While he introduced French kids to his hodge-podge knowledge of U.S. culture, they introduced him to memes, video games, TikTok, and YouTube. He was fully immersed in muggle culture, and while being a wizard sounded super cool, it didn't feel tangible or immediate to Quentin. 

When he did enter the hallowed halls of Beauxbatons, his grandmother's tutelage did help so that the wizarding world didn't completely gobsmack him, but he still held onto his muggle culture. He taught other students about the internet, even though they couldn't use it. He shared stories about his father's Cajun past, which felt magical with his animated storytelling. So, of course, he made fast friends with other muggle-borns and half-bloods who wanted to straddle both worlds. 

Quentin's biggest hobby is none other than watching American wrestling. His father took him through all the historical matches, the backlog of games from his father's childhood, and now they watch the newest editions together. They practiced the moves together painstakingly until Quentin felt he could pin his own father. Going to boarding school made this all difficult: Quentin's father would send him owls with play-by-plays of the moves used in each match. It was difficult to read his father's chicken scratch, but Quentin still practiced the moves with anyone in the dorms who would participate. His friends loved it—though Quentin would always win because of his years of practice and size.

After his first year at Beauxbatons, Quentin's grandmother thought the allure of the magical world would cut this silly muggle obsession and wrestling habit out, but it only made it worse. To her horror, Quentin spent much of his summer vacation contemplating how to combine brooms and wrestling or wands and wrestling or magical creatures and wrestling. He found his muggle-born friends online, and they share their own brand wizarding memes in the group chat. Quentin doesn't understand the division between the magical and muggle worlds. For him, both belong together.[/reducio]

Fearless: [406 words]
[reducio]
Many great heroes have been described as fearless—usually because they are recklessly courageous or nobly righteous in the face of certain death. Quentin Gagné is neither. Quentin is just too dim to see the danger coming or to reflect on it later. He is fearless in the sense that he lacks the ability to evaluate which situations should be feared. 

It might stem from the fact that one of his favorite pastimes is watching American professional wrestling. In this "sport," the injuries are staged and rarely stay for long. In Quentin's naive world, everything works out in the end, and the good guys always win the belt eventually. It's shaped his outlook on life. When he became a beater for Beauxbaton's quidditch team, he saw the bludgers bloodying players, some in the hospital wing for weeks, others falling from the sky and crumpling on the ground, but he was never deterred. Instead, he saw the failures as a sign that those players had upset the universe in some way—they were the "bad guys" (at least for that day)—and so they lost the battle. Quentin sees himself as the main character of a great epic. Sure there might be a few missteps here and there, growing pains for a budding hero, but he'll make it to the last round victorious.

This all isn't something that he would ever utter out loud, not even to himself. His fearlessness and confidence stem from the subconscious. Ignorance is fearless bliss. Quentin will be the first one to volunteer to test a new and dangerous physical activity. He is always thinking about how to combine professional wrestling and quidditch or how magic could be a physical sport. But he is also a kind person, and he would never shy away from helping someone in danger. People may taunt or threaten him, but these comments are easily shooed away. 

Quentin's fearlessness also makes coming to Hogwarts so exciting. That school always seems to have [i]something[/i] happening. Many of his closest friends don't share the same fearlessness, and so they don't usually come to Hogwarts events. But the school's sense of lawlessness and chaos is just a new challenge for Quentin to overcome. Attacks on dances, Forbidden Forest shenanigans, the Hexiwizard Tournament—all of it means that Quentin might finally be able to prove himself. He hopes to have his own death-defying tale to share one day, and it may just happen in Britain. 
[/reducio]

Lovely Creature: [404 words]
[reducio]
Quentin has always been tall and brawny—even as a baby. But he's also always seemed boyish: pudgy cheeks, the goofy smile, a falsetto voice, and his limbs scrambling under him like a young fawn. That was until puberty hit him like a truck. At some point at the end of his third year at Beauxbatons, seemingly overnight according to his French friends, his transformation began: fat fell from his face revealing a sharp-edged jawline, his voice dropped significantly (with a few cracks here or there), and finally his limbs seemed to fit him—now he had an air of athleticism rather than a goofy gait. He also shot up to a healthy five foot eight. 

Looking in the mirror, Quentin didn't quite recognize himself. The goofy smile was still there, though—at least that kept him grounded. He always thought he looked like his dad, like a ruffian from the Louisiana Bayou. But now he saw a different resemblance—one refined and beautiful. He looked like his mother. According to his father, she was all Parisian elegance and kindness rolled into one stellar package. Quentin had seen pictures of her and he agreed. But it was a different matter entirely to see her in the mirror, looking through his eyes. 

So, not out of narcissism, but out of respect for his dear mother, Quentin began to take better care of his appearance. He shaves his growing stubble so it shadows his bone structure in the right ways. He learned how to comb his hair so it falls in the right directions—like he woke up like that rather than spending thirty minutes with a bottle of hair gel. He lets his grandmother recommend clothes and robes that suit him and fit in with the latest fashions—he even began to learn about the brands and tailors and appreciate them in his own way. He now thinks more carefully about the ways in which he works out—too much playing beater on the quidditch team can cause large arms but little legs without a purposeful routine. Heck, he even finally flosses every night. 

How other people see him didn't factor too much into his decisions; caring for his health became a part of Quentin's self-care. However, people do see him! He turns heads when he walks into class and he has more than a few admirers. But this hasn't gone to his head—he still wears his goofy smile above all else.
[/reducio]

APPROVED - Marcus Iwasaki, July 1

NPC Name: Ye-jun Lee
Link: HERE
Year: 6th
Stats:
OLD Stats: Sta 10, Eva 11, Str 13, Wis 10, Arc 7, Acc 11 +7 from duel wins
NEW Stats: Sta 10, Eva 12, Str 16, Wis 10, Arc 7, Acc 12 +7 from duel wins
Proof Graduation to 6th year

Abilities: Fearless

Reducio

Ever since his first violent incident from last summer, Ye-jun had been practising martial arts as per his father wishes. It was tough, especially in the beginning when he was just trying to catch up with the other guys at the gym. He was going there even in the past and tried some of the fighting techniques whenever he felt like it but never to this extent and so his opponents used to always go easy on him before. That was no longer the case.

Once the rumours reached them and they understood the reason for his sudden interest, the fighters started taking his lessons seriously. They knew him for years now so to many, he was like their little brother. If he had serious anger issues, they intended to fix it…which of course meant some tough love. In all honesty, Ye-jun wouldn’t call himself a scaredy-cat but he was definitely cautious. Even though he grew to be strong, the bullying from his childhood left many mental scars and he always preferred to fight only when absolutely necessary and when it was to protect someone weaker. He was by no means eager to join any ongoing fights that were not his business. If he could, avoiding angry people and flying fists would have been his first choice every single time.

“Ye-jun my man, you can’t keep going with defence all the time. Of course, we don’t want you to be overly aggressive but I doubt defending and always stepping back is helping to get the accumulated anger out.” At last, it appeared his personal trainer had enough. The Beauxbatons student cringed in embarrassment. He could hear the others chuckle and even though none of them were being mean, it still wasn’t a pleasant moment. “Well…to be honest, you guys are extremely intimidating. Most of you are professional martial artists. Is it really weird that my hardwired instinct is to step back?” There was no reason to lie. Surely, they would understand his point of view. They were all good men and he knew they just wanted to help him. The man sighed. “Alright, I get that. However, may it be here or out there in the world, you will meet plenty of scary people. You are fast learner and your technique is good…whether it’s defence or attacking...” The wizard listened to his trainer’s words and looked around to see the others nodding along. He had to admit it was an encouraging sight. “…but if you get scared every time you meet someone more intimidating than you, all that skill goes out of the window. You can’t win by defending. Eventually, you’ll get tired and lose.” It was Ye-jun’s turn to nod. Even without hearing those words, he already knew that.

Before he could even say anything, the man in front of him clapped as if everybody weren’t paying attention already. “Alright guys! Our young guy has a new goal. The skills are good but he needs to get rid of his fear. You all take turns to spare with him whenever you have time and don’t worry about his pretty little face. He can handle it.” Great. Now they were getting excited…if the cheers were anything to go by. “And you…” The trainer pointed at his face. “…you know what to do. Now forget about the body and focus on your mind. Everybody is only as scary as you imagine them to be. Practice to stand your ground, get used to the intimidating sights and situations. By the time you return to school, I want you to fight any of them with utmost confidence. I want you to think that no one in this world is scary unless you let them be.” It was a passionate speech and Ye-jun honestly couldn’t help but nod again, feeling strangely determined. No matter how difficult it seemed, he was not a quitter so he would at least try.

And try he did. Ever since that day, he spent most of his summer in the gym and focused on his new goal. It was a hard work and some days were better than others. There were huge guys and even some past criminal offenders. They weren’t posing any danger to him now and they were here for the same reason he was but that didn’t mean they weren’t scary. Still, Ye-jun didn’t give up. Just like he was told, he let his muscle memory take over the actual sparring and focused on training his mind. It took a long time but eventually he figured it out. He was skilful enough to beat even the bigger opponents and the pain seemed to lessen the more he got hit. Human body could get used to all kind of things and bruises and cuts always healed so why should he be scared? He could protect himself now. He was confident he could. No matter who or what came his way. He was someone that could fight well and if fists and kicks weren’t enough, he was also armed with magic. Yeah…there was nothing to be scared of. He lived many years in fear, he was done with that.
WC: 861

Extracurricular: NONE
Trunk Coding: You can just the coding leave it as it is. No aesthetic changes necessary.

STATUS: Approved, Linda Ramirez, 3 October