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[quote][center][img]/images/upload/b9zo35.webp[/img][/center]
[quote][center]Stamina: 10
Evasion: 11
Strength: 10
Wisdom: 8
Arcane Power: 9
Accuracy: 15
[revelio]Total: 63 Stat Points (7 from Duel Wins, 1 from Quidditch Win)
([url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=16330&start=40#p274734]1[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=1744&start=130#p294539]2[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=18463&start=30#p300076]3[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=19523&start=10#p3485703]4[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=421845#p421845]5[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=23482&p=576988#p576988]6[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=679635#p679635]7[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=764351#p764351]8[/url])[/revelio][/center][/quote]

[quote][center][b]Quidditch Player - Beater[/b][/center][/quote]

[quote][quote][center][b]Ability 1: The Muggle Condition[/b][/center] [reducio]
[b]Why does it fit my character?[/b]
Theo had no idea of magic before he was told of it and it had opened up a new world to him. He does not longer waste time on muggle abilities, which he can easily replace with magic, but he had to for eleven years. 
The young boy grew up in the muggle world, visited a muggle kinder garden and a muggle primary school. When he had still visited school, his only target had been to get to the best possible secondary school. And then magic got in between. But since he had never expected it, he acquired the skills that one just learns when one is young and spends a lot time with other boys. Not to mention simply loves to provoke others. And just can't resist to put a toe across the boarder, as soon as the consequences become acceptable.

Theo knows how to throw punches. He knows how to physically fight. He even learned how to do it secretly, after it got him and his parents in front of the principal a few times. 

Although he doesn't necessarily need those skills anymore, now that he learns many very interesting spells, he has noticed, that this seems to be exactly what all those purebloods are thinking. They didn't think it would be necessary to acquire certain skills that might be more important in the muggle world. Theo simply loves to get them by surprise through easy muggle tricks. 

Just before he went to Ilvermorny, he even took his time to learn simple muggle card trick to brag. It works perfectly and he is extremely proud of it. 
Through simple muggle games, Theo has made himself a name at Ilvermorny, used his bloodline for his own advantage. 
Sometimes he questions it. Sometimes he thinks that something might be wrong with him, as there are only very few muggleborns at Ilvermorny, secretly of course, Theodore Duncain has no insecurities. 

But in the end he is a creative and optimistic boy. He can see opportunities in almost every bad situation. Theo knows a lot about muggle technology as well and he just likes to show off the aditional knowledge he has. Of course he made sure to inform himself about the magical world before he started to  show his knowledge off, it would have been embarrassing if someone could have shut him off with one seemingly simple question about the wizarding world. No, Theodore Duncain, the muggleborn would not stop trying until his circumstances helped him go up in the 'hierarchy' of students.[/reducio][/quote]
[quote][center][b]Ability 2: Calming Presence[/b][/center][reducio][b]Why does it fit my character?[/b]
Theodore grew up, always carrying the responsibility one automatically carries being the oldest kid amongst a bunch of younger siblings. It was him, who was responsible for looking after the three others on their way to school, him, who made it his task to be there for his little sister, the only girl, as much as the two other boys, as hard as it was for a while. He always valued the bond he had with his siblings, and it was undeniable him, who convinced the three that they were invincible as long as they stuck together.

That dream image didn't quite work like he hoped it would. Theo's siblings would stick with him- but separately. Amongst themselves the twins and Anabelle were almost indifferent about one another. It was Theo then, who tried to be the counterpart for Anabelle, that the twins were for one another, and at the same time to be the cool older brother for the twins.
That on the other hand did work. Where other siblings might have tried to avoid there siblings in public, even pretended not to have one, out of puberty embarrassment, Theo was a cool older brother for them, who they went to when they had issues in school, with other children or were scared of something.

As the oldest, it was mostly him, who his parents asked for help or shared their worries with. Even after entering puberty, he was still the least troublesome of the siblings and took a great deal of stress off his parents' backs. The boy was pretty much carrying the whole family on his back, and while it might have stressed out other children, Theo was happy to make his family happy, or at least make things easier for them. While on the outside it looked like they were simply a family that could work perfectly well together, the family knew that it was Theo, who was keeping it together. It was visible when he was in school longer than his siblings were. When he came home, he would often walk in to his mother yelling at the twins, but it would most of the times stop immediately. At home it always seemed like Theo was radiating calmness. It was a place he knew, he felt safe at, a place where he always had things under control.

Things changed after he went to Ilvermorny. He exchanges owls with Ana, but although her vague responses never include any negative things, he is sure, that there is a lot of chaos at home. After he got used to the school, he went back to his rather calm self. At least when he is not provoked. If one doesn't know him, he can seem a little intimidating, as he likes to tease and joke around with people, but when it is serious, danger or simply the need to talk, he would not let anyone down. In one on one conversations, one would feel that calming presence particularly strong.
One thing, that his sister Anabelle said before he went to go to Ilvermorny, made him think for a long while.
[i]"Theo, you are the anchor of ship Duncain. We'll be drifting away for a while, without a doubt. But we'll get back on course. If there is no anchor, we have a steering wheel. If it gets serious, we can all navigate this ship."[/i][/reducio][/quote]
[quote][center][b]Ability 3: Blindvision[/b][/center][reducio][b]Why does it fit my character?[/b] Sometimes Theo himself cannot quite believe how sharp his own senses are, especially in the darkness. He is a person who enjoys colours, naturally he is more wary in the dark. Perhaps it has something to do with his family. The young boy is muggleborn and when he got his invitation to Ilvermorny, his dad sat at his bed and had a long talk with him. He had told Theodore that he always knew that his eldest son was different, that he always had a feeling that eventually something like this would happen. But in the first place he had warned Theo. Although Virgil Duncain had no knowledge of what would await Theo in the magical world, he had told him to be careful, to watch his back. For the muggle man, magic was a word that belonged into fairytales and stories, not into the real world- His Theodore was going to a place neither of them could imagine, a place that was separate from the world he knew. Maybe his father's words had made him be more careful.

Maybe it simply came with being an older brother. Steve and Elias are Theo's two younger twin brothers, and while he loves them, they have always given him a reason to watch his own back as well as theirs. It was quite possible that the two boys got the joy from playing little pranks from their older brother, Theodore learned very soon that it was a bad idea not to watch whatever he touched, ate or put on. Once they had collected some beetles and put them into his bed. Theo had hesitated to go to bed on that evening, all his senses telling him not to and so he found the insects und his blanket. 
After some years he had developed something like a sensor for dangers in the dark. Sometimes, although he probably only imagined it, he just almost smelled it, like a bad sent in the air. The hairs on his arms prickling for seemingly no reason. 

Theodore always got along with his younger Sister Anabelle very well, the two of them could as well be the same age, they would hardly be any closer. While the young boy enjoys every minute of his time in Ilvermorny, he promises his sister and himself every year to come back to her. That his father was right and things really tended to become dangerous in a way that... simply wasn't from this world was something he had especially noticed in Hogwarts. He didn't get into dangerous situation himself so far, but he had heard stories of murderous dolls, things he would prefer to stay in horror movies and not come to life. All that added to the slight paranoia he developed in the dark. Who was to say that the shadows wouldn't come to life?

It is not like the young Thunderbird could really see in the dark, while he was magical, he was certainly not Magic Mike. But since he had set foot into the magical world, his senses were sharp like they had never been before, he simply had a feeling. He didn't always need his eyes to know what was happening in front of him.
[/reducio][/quote]
[quote][center][b]Ability 4: Savior[/b][/center][reducio]If one thinks of Theodore Duncain, one could probably think of quite a few things. Starting with his seemingly always great mood, his love for adventures, his tolerance and patience, but not to forget, his desire to make sure that the people he cares about are fine. Being the oldest of four children, he had been taught to take care of them at a very young age already. It wasn't like Charlize and Virgil Duncain weren't the most loving parents imaginable, but with the little money the family had, both parents were working hard.

And while the Duncain parents were working to get six hungry mouths fed, it was often up to Theo to take care of the three youngest, make sure that they did their homework and keep them entertained after school so their parents could work in peace.
With his invitation to Ilvermorny, everything had changed. After the first mistrust in something so surreal, Theo's parents were actually really excited for their eldest son to take the chance he had been given and also successfully persuaded him to go after promising him repeatedly that they would be fine as well as his siblings.

So Theo left and naturally found some friends at Ilvermorny soon. Having taken care of his younger siblings all his life, there was suddenly a gap to fill and just as naturally his new friend from Ilvermorny began to fill that gap. Theo became the kind of friend that would always try and cheer people up, but also protect them in more serious situations.

Perhaps that made it all the more ironic that he joined first one dangerous sport in which trees were literally out to kill the players and next one that involved metal balls that would attempt to knock kids off their brooms. His task was clear, keep those metal balls in check, but that did not at all mean that Theo didn't pick a different task for himself. While he liked Quidditch, attempting to injure people wasn't really his thing, so he tried very much to just protect his team and hit bludgers somewhere, where no one was who could get hurt.

And if there was the occasional player falling of their broom, well... Theo left his post without thinking about it twice. If the young Thunderbird could help it, none of his classmates would ever fall to hit the ground, in fact he had become pretty good at spotting and catching them before they hit the ground- yes, unfortunately that did include one or the other opponent. [/reducio][/quote]
[quote][center][b]Ability 5: Broken Broomshaft[/b][/center][reducio]Theo Duncain had never been a weak child, always wrestling and getting into all kinds of shenanigans with his younger brothers. When he was younger, his dad liked to use the empty field near their home to play sports with his children as well (football, baseball, batminton, anything really). With this influence, Theo had always been rather athletic and strong and was often asked to help with more difficult jobs around the house, until he eventually got to join the junior baseball team at his elementary school.

Of course, with the children on the team all being around 10-11, there wasn't much going on in terms of competition, but Theo learned a lot about techniques, how to correctly use a bat, how to effectively hit a ball and all kinds of useful lessons.
These lessons are a blessing to him today.

Theo has quite the history when it comes to sports, broom sports in particular. First he had joined the broom racing team and stayed on until his third year, when he finally quit. While the young man did enjoy a good challenge, he always had the feeling to be canon fodder as a young racer. The whole concept of the sport was rather merciless to younger students and Theo went to look for a different challenge. Preferable one that wouldn't land him in the hospital wing after every game.

So he had joined his school's Quidditch Team as a second string beater. A position he particularly enjoyed as he felt like he could bring some knowledge from his time in muggle school into it and maybe actually make a difference. Yes, during his first game he had not been on the winning side, but if he only looked at his own performance, he was rather content. It was certainly something he could work with!

And work with it he did. When other students could be found practicing spells, Theo was training his body, creating a visible difference over the duration of his fourth year. Regularly he could be found in some isolated area, doing push ups, sit ups or training hitting techniques with his beater's bat.

And one day, during training for which he usually used some normal balls, he hit one with full force, but didn't aim properly. The ball went a different way than intended and ended up hitting a chair next to a tree, smashing the whole thing against the trunk. With wide eyes Theo had run over to fix the chair magically, but the force of his hit had effectively turned the chair into a pile of broken boards.[/reducio][/quote][/quote][/quote]

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[center][img]/images/upload/oag1tx.webp[/img][/center]
[center][size=120][b]Stats:[/b][/size][/center][center]+7 to Stats from Quidditch wins: [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?f=40&t=8714&start=50#p149357]i[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=15344&start=180#p255616]ii[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?f=40&t=16400&p=269317#p269317]iii[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=19424&start=170#p373361]iv[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=23357&start=70#p522642]v[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=740216#p740216]vi[/url], [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=853518#p853518]vii[/url]
[b]Stamina:[/b] 10 · [b]Evasion:[/b] 10 · [b]Strength:[/b] 10 · [b]Arcane Power:[/b] 17 · [b]Accuracy:[/b] 10 · [b]Wisdom:[/b] 10[/center]
[center][size=120][b]Extracurricular:[/b][/size][/center][center]Duellist[/center]
[center][size=120][b]Abilities:[/b][/size][/center][center][b]Year 1:[/b] Fearless
[reducio]Cyrus was the type of boy who was full of chaos; the type of boy who would answer the "if someone jumped off a cliff, would you?" as "absolutely". Cy would do anything to prove himself, and he began running around Manhattan at the young age of seven. His parents didn't care, and he feared nothing. The world didn't scare him, so he did as he pleased.

By the time his aunt and uncle became prominent figures in his life, Cyrus was used to doing things by himself. He made breakfast without fear of burning himself on the pan, although he needn't make lunch or dinner - his parents always ordered things for him. While the boy might have lived a moderately sheltered life - what child of businesspeople didn't? - he was lonely, and there was always a bundle of energy manifesting inside the child's heart, waiting to be set loose.

After ending school one day Cy came across a group of kids. They weren't usual schoolboys; he could see that from a single glance. Their beat-up leather jackets stood out in stark contrast to his school blazer, and the fact that some of them didn't wear shoes let Cyrus know he'd ventured into the "wrong area of town". They surrounded a much smaller boy, one that wasn't in Cyrus' year; no, he was quite a bit younger. This kid was maybe nine, if that.

Cy wasn't deterred; he wanted that child out of the situation. "Hey, idiots!" yelled the blond, only glancing down to make sure his duck-print shoelaces were tied. A brazen grin decorated his expression as he charged forward, imagining he was a knight in medieval times and that the other boy was a lass, or lad now that he thought about it, in distress. "Make way for the king!" he shouted, his words echoing around the alley.

Now, any other child would have noticed how stupid the plan was. With Cyrus, however, there really was no plan. He did things on impulse, having no fear of the consequences that might arise from his actions. Putting one foot in front of the other, he charged at the other kids, shoving one of them as hard as he could.

He wasn't quite strong enough to knock the kid over, but he got the group's attention away from the young'un and onto himself. "Get out of the way!" he whisper-yelled to the smaller boy, and he was pleased to see the other kid running out of the corner of his eye as he felt a blow land on his arm.

Cy hadn't been strong enough to fight off the kids, but it had been your average schoolboy fight - everyone got hurt, to some extent. When Cyrus returned home, a triumphant grin on his face, his aunt shot him a questioning glance as he flopped down on the couch, exhausted, and shouted "No Regrets!"

Because really, he had no regrets. The feel of adrenaline in his veins had been amazing, and he would do it again. Cy wasn't a wimp. In fact, one might call him fearless.[/reducio]
[b]Year 2:[/b] Obnoxiously Strong
[reducio]Cyrus always possessed an unmistakable amount of energy. In fact, it was one of his defining traits. His feet would always tap the floor during his Muggle classes, and his hands would [i]always[/i] be moving.

He couldn’t help it. He just had too much energy.

Since he didn’t have very many friends (he was simply an unapproachable lad sometimes. It may have been his parents; he didn’t know), he didn’t have people who would listen to his endless chatter about who knows what. His parents were always far too busy to listen to his ramblings, so he sat quietly and allowed his appendages to move as much as they liked.

After a particularly embarrassing visit to his aunt’s where he had shattered a glass while dancing as he put up the dishes, Aunt Teresa had shown him an advertisement for child memberships at a fitness centre down the street.

At first, Cyrus hadn’t been at all interested. He was perfectly fit, and he saw this… [i]flyer[/i]... as an insult to his amazing physique. 

After thinking about it for a while, though, he asked his parents - who he had still lived with at the time - to sign him up. They obliged relatively quickly, probably glad to have to worry about him less, and he began to take classes.

He started out with swimming classes, but those didn’t really stick - Cyrus was already fast, and swimming didn’t really challenge him that much. The private lessons his parents had invested in made that certain.

He then went on to both weight lifting and kickboxing. He was interested in learning how to fight, both because his parents said it was something he should never learn and also because he was reminded of his favourite movie characters whenever he thought of it. Weights, though? He wanted to build up his muscles so that any fighting he learned would have an effect on whoever he used it against - not that he would attack anyone, of course.

As the years passed, Cyrus began to develop muscles, [i]real[/i] muscles. When he moved in with Aunt Teresa, he began to help around the house, and he easily surprised his aunt with how easily he could lift things. He got into fights more often, but usually to protect people [as mentioned in previous fearless app], and he changed from an annoying idiot who managed to [i]irritate[/i] bullies away to someone who could actually fend them off. He didn’t even have to punch them; he would flex his bicep and watch with a goofy grin as the spindly bully ran away from whatever younger kid they were bothering.

Cyrus was strong, but he was never [i]just[/i] strong. No, he was [i]obnoxiously[/i] strong.[/reducio]
[b]Year 3:[/b] Charmer
[reducio]Cyrus was always too much.

His parents sometimes thought it; he knew that. He didn’t mind, though. Often, he embraced it. After all, he was liked well enough, and ‘too much’ wasn’t always a bad thing.

He began to flaunt it - he would use his parents’ money to buy the most ridiculous things, such as his trademark duck-print garments or his designer jeans. He even bought a solid gold duck tie tack for his school uniform.

Things changed when he moved in with Aunt Teresa. She never thought he was too much, at least not openly. 

This meant Cyrus needed to try [i]harder[/i]. He wore the most flamboyant clothes; he cut his hair into a mullet. These things never fazed Aunt Teresa, but when he went to school with a green mullet and a clown nose that squeaked, no one could stop looking at him. He was eventually sent to the headmaster’s office because he was distracting students during a test.

He received a letter from Ilvermorny the following year.

The headmaster, Lazarus Plott, was a good example in Cyrus’s mind. A very extravagant man, his mannerisms encouraged Cyrus. Cyrus grew even [i]more[/i] dramatic, into even [i]more[/i] of a class clown, until he was certain everyone would notice him.

The thing was, Cyrus didn’t know when to stop. Not by a long shot.

He dumbed himself down sometimes, trying to make people gawk. It worked, sometimes. He adopted ducks as his trademark even more, wearing them no matter what. No one would be able to look at a duck without thinking of him, nor would they be able to look at him without thinking of ducks. 

He never felt the need to explain himself to anyone, although to a certain Thea Knott, he did try. ‘Regal,’ he had said about ducks, ‘strong.’ He had said they reminded him of himself, but was that true?

It was as true as he had wanted it to be, he supposed, because then maybe he could be seen as regal. He was strong. Right?

Maybe some people - Aunt Teresa - saw him as those things: elegant, regal and strong. Some others most certainly didn’t - namely his parents - but he had long since trained himself not to care. What others thought didn’t matter as long as they were thinking about him, as long as they were [i]noticing[/i] him, as long as he [i]meant[/i] something.

Cyrus was a [i]distraction[/i], and that, for now, was enough for him.[/reducio]
[b]Year 4:[/b] Impartial
[reducio]Cyrus’s Muggle teachers had always called him selfish, and for good reason. Cyrus simply didn’t care about others, or so it seemed. He was always flaunting his clothes, bragging about his wealth… Simply put, he seemed like a jerk.

Throughout the years, Cyrus had learned to only care about himself. He wasn’t necessarily self-centred - he was still [i]polite[/i] to others, after all - but he never complimented others’ appearances, never smiled without reason. One might have called him cunning had they not known that he never really had a plan in mind, that his ‘calculated’ smiles were really just his following social cues.

Because Cyrus wanted [i]himself[/i] to stand out, he tended not to notice when other people did, at least not unless they stood out more than he did, which was incredibly rare. Even the most brazen of people didn’t meet Cyrus’s standards. They had to be bold, flamboyant and witty, but they also had to possess a certain type of charm that wasn’t necessarily superficial in order to pique Cyrus’s interest - and even then, it was usually brief at best.

For example, the first person who had made Cyrus interested in them was none other than his Aunt Teresa. She was as unassuming as could be - petite, with lightly tanned skin and average features, but there was a certain kindness in her eyes that had interested him. Her nature was sweet, and she helped people without strings attached. Seeing a person so obviously good had interested Cyrus - she had not stood out. She was one with the crowd, but he was still interested in talking to her, in knowing more about her.

The only flamboyant person whose name Cyrus could easily remember was Headmaster Plott, AKA his role model. From afar, Cyrus watched in awe as the man made spectacles, and he hoped that one day he could do the same, that one day he would be powerful enough to. Once he surpassed Headmaster Plott’s abilities, something told him he would no longer feel the same level of awe. He [i]was[/i] pretty sure, however, that he would remember Headmaster Plott’s name, and not just because it was a name he heard daily as he roamed the halls of Ilvermorny. No, a role model was someone special, someone to be remembered.

He often remembered no one else.

He did remember Thea Knott, but she, like his Aunt Teresa, did not stick out in a crowd. She was shy and quiet, and that intrigued him. He was not distracted by pretty girls or pretty boys; he did not often raise his eyebrows at amateur wannabes of class clownery. He did not care what they were doing because their attempts at flamboyance could never match his own.

He really was quite impartial to those sorts of things.[/reducio]
[b]Year 5:[/b] Poison Resistance
[reducio]Cyrus has never been known for his intellect. In fact, to some, he is known for his [i]lack[/i] of brains. He does not make up for his lack of book smarts by any common sense. So far, he has managed to get by due to sheer brawn and laughter, but the day was bound to come when he would no longer be able to joke his way out of a nasty situation.

The summer before his fifth year, multiple instances challenged his ability to stay alive.

The first: cleaning.

Cyrus’s aunt made him get a summer job in order to gain a ‘work ethic’, whatever that was. Cyrus personally didn’t think he needed a job─after all, his parents and aunt were filthy rich. Nonetheless, his aunt deemed work ‘good for him’, so he looked at open positions. One was a janitorial position at a hotel, and he decided he might as well apply. He did not expect to be hired, but two weeks later, he received an email telling him he’d gotten the job.

Although Cyrus was trained on what every chemical did, he had never been the smartest. He had never had the greatest memory. He soon forgot which unlabelled bottle had what, so he tried to stick to the labelled bottles. However, when a sink didn’t clean itself fast enough, Cyrus glanced down at his cart full of soaps. He thought about every bottle and noted that vinegar could disinfect counters and bleach could whiten them, so if he mixed them together, the sink would be disinfected and whitened. His supervisors would be so proud!

He put the stopper in the sink and mixed the chemicals. His gloves were on, so he assumed there would be no problem. However, soon after he began to mix the chemicals, he started coughing and found it increasingly difficult to breathe. He stumbled around the bathroom for a bit, wheezing, before he remembered he had a phone (perks of being a no-maj born!) and quickly dialled his boss’s number as he fumbled his way out of the bathroom.

His boss dialled 911, and Cyrus didn’t remember much after that. He woke up in the hospital and was informed that his very not clever mixture had created chlorine gas, which was toxic to breathe in. The hotel had needed the gas removed from the floor he’d been on, and Cyrus’s clothes were no longer any good. His hospital gown wasn’t nearly as cool as his duck-themed T-shirt. 

He was promptly fired from his job after that ordeal.

The second test of Cyrus’s will to live? Driving.

Since Cyrus had been sixteen for a while, his aunt decided it was high time he learned how to drive. His aunt took him up to Lake Placid, where she had a vacation home, and began to teach him how cars worked. One day, she was visiting some of her friends, and Cyrus thought it would be nice of him to bring the car to pick her up. He was pretty sure he had done everything right─the car was on, the mirrors were all in the right places, his seatbelt was on… But the car wouldn’t move. The garage door was still shut because he didn’t know where his aunt put the garage door opener. 

He began to panic, looking through the glove box and the other compartments before realising that he had no idea at all where the opener was. And when he pressed the gas, the car still wouldn’t move.

Once again, he remembered he had his phone, and he called his aunt to ask, but his vision wavered, and he passed out. 

Luckily, his aunt had gotten the garage door open, and she had called 911. He woke up at Adirondack Medical Center with an oxygen mask over his face. The doctors informed him that he had given himself carbon monoxide poisoning, and his aunt tiredly told him he had forgotten to take off the parking brake. The garage door opener had been on the kitchen counter this entire time. 

Cyrus was okay, though, if not a bit shaken up by the entire ordeal. His body didn’t feel as weak as he had expected it to. In fact, a few weeks later, he swallowed mouthwash─completely by accident, he would tell his aunt, since he had genuinely forgotten that Listerine was not meant to be swallowed. She had stared at him in complete and utter exasperation before asking if she should call the Poison Control hotline. Cyrus thought about it, and although he knew he was probably making a mistake, he shook his head. He had swallowed a fair amount of mouthwash, but he felt fine.

Maybe, he thought, the poison caused by the chlorine gas and the carbon monoxide had hardened his body against the future clumsiness that would almost certainly come someday.[/reducio]
[b]Year 6:[/b] Spell Spread
[reducio]Cyrus had always had a bit of a dramatic flair. This was exemplified by his choice in clothes (duck-themed everything, often thousands of dollars worth) and his style of speech. However, Cyrus wanted to channel this into his magic as well.

He was not the best spellcaster. Even simple spells, like [i]Lumos[/i], tended to give him grief. But Cyrus wasn’t popular amongst his peers, and he wanted to defend himself if stolen rude glances and muttered [i]’Mudblood’[/i]s turned to something more serious. 

Thus, Cyrus practised. He practised more than he thought he was able to, finally becoming familiar with the feeling of his wand in his hand. He read book after book until he thought maybe he could feel his brain cells multiplying─or perhaps that was just him being tired because it was three in the morning. He studied spell movements until his [i]Lumos[/i] was perfect most of the time. He practised evasive footwork, and sometimes he wished he had more friends who could throw things at him so he could evade even better.

His movements became precise, no longer a jumble of jittery motion but instead a dance-like agglomeration of knowledge. Cyrus was an actor, and his spellbooks made up his stage. He found himself imagining he was a conductor, waving his wand in precise movements to command an army of musicians, and that was when the thought came to him: he could [i]be[/i] an army.

Cyrus’s studies multiplied. Instead of learning about [i]how[/i] spells were performed, he learned about [i]why[/i] they were performed the way they were. Magic was an art, he realised, a type of performance not unlike singing or acting. And actors could play multiple parts. He read about spell theory and how one could focus one’s magic into a single spell, how spells would differ in their outcome depending on the person and their preferred style of casting despite ultimately being the same spell doing the same thing. 

He also thought a lot. He thought about what one of the old Hogwarts professors had [url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?t=8092#p123749]once told him[/url]: ‘Making more questions is a good thing, not a bad thing.’

He had lots of questions about magic. Where did it all come from? His parents didn’t have magic, and he wasn’t blood related to his aunt, so why did he? His uncle, also a no-Maj, was dead now, so he couldn’t ask his uncle about what coincidence might have made him have magic.

It didn’t matter now. He knew he had magic, and he hadn’t embraced it as much as he wished he had in retrospect. Cyrus began to attend classes in earnest, to write down notes on even the most arbitrary of things. He would be a proper wizard. 


Gradually, his spells grew stronger. He learned how to channel his emotions into his spellcasting, yet keep them in check so he remained in control. He poured his grief over his uncle’s death, his repressed anger at his parents and his appreciation for his aunt into his spellcasting. 

And then there was the real test. Cyrus had set up two dummies to practise on, and so far, his spells had only been able to hit one. His accuracy was fairly decent, and his spells packed a punch. But his ability to cast spells was never consistent. Cyrus hoped that after all of his studies, this might be better, so he thought long and hard and decided on a spell he’d known for a long time─flipendo.

Cyrus held out his wand and focused. He imagined his uncle alive and well, smiling and telling him he was proud. He imagined his aunt nodding at how he had grown. He imagined his parents happy with his existence, willing to look away from their work. He imagined his spell, fuelled by his heart, knocking both of the dummies over.

Then he waved his wand and said the word. [i][b]’Flipendo.’[/b][/i]

It took a moment, as if his magic were hesitating, and Cyrus thought for a second that all of his studying had been for nothing. But he watched with wide eyes, willing to have patience, and he heard a satisfying [i]plonk[/i] as the dummies fell to the ground.[/reducio]
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[center]✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥
[size=200] ◈ NATE'S TRUNK ◈[/size]
[i]"Good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment."[/i][/center]

[right]STATISTICS
sta • 7 | eva • 6 | str • 9 | wis • 6 | arc • 3 | acc • 9 [/right]

[left]ABILITIES
year one • keeper's catch
» » [i]gives him an advantage in blocking the hoops in quidditch[/i]
[reducio]Nate had always had good reflexes. Whether it was catching a ball before it hit a window, or dodging out of the way of a falling tree, he would almost always succeed.
When he was six, his mother bought him a bouncy ball. It was a small, rubber one, about the size of a grape. He absolutely adored it. Nate would bring it everywhere, bouncing it as he went. There were more near misses than could be counted on an abacus. The ball almost hit windows, cars, animals, very expensive shop items and people. But Nate stopped it every time, just before it hit. He was fixated on that ball, watching it's every movement.
After a while, as many children do, he got a little bored of the ball. It was too small. This was around the time he met his friends. They saw his skill with the ball and immediately showed him to the captain of the school's soccer team. He would have gotten in as keeper too, if he hadn't been so young.
His friends began training with him until he was old enough. By then, he had improved even more and although footballs were much faster and heavier than rubber ones, he could still catch them very well.
Soon the time came for his first game. He was terrified, although he downplayed it. His stomach hurt, his arms were trembling and he thought he might be sick. But before he could say anything, the game had begun.
The team they were against were known for making aggressive shots on goal. They had terrorised most of the small league which they were in. However, they had never met Nate.
Every time a shot was even near the goal, Nate was there, passing it back to his team. With each failed attempt, they grew even more frustrated until it came to the final minute of the match. The score was nil - nil. The opposing team took possession of the ball, the striker running forwards as fast as they could, past the midfield, past the defenders and to the goal, where they passed the ball before Nate could even react. It sailed in a perfect arc, right into the back of the net. Nate was devastated. He had lost them the match.
Just when he had abandoned all hope however, the referee called it out. The ball was offside.
Nate and his teammates hugged and cheered, having won the match![/reducio]
year two • sixth sense
» » [i]makes him more aware of people and details[/i]
[reducio]Nate had always been shy. He never understood how others could just walk up to someone and start a conversation - how did they know what to say? Making friends was hard - every conversation he had he would second-guess himself, trying to see whether he was saying the right thing. He never knew what people were thinking. When he asked him mum, she seemed surprised that he found it hard to tell what someone was thinking or feeling from their facial expressions.

It wasn't just that. Nate disliked eye contact. It scared him, the way that others analysed his face. People would look at him and he'd look away - instead looking at anything he could find. He became perceptive, noticing the creases on shirts, the scuffs on shoes. Anything was better than faces.

He would notice things, things others didn't. The way his mothers' hands shook when she told him she'd lost her job. The ring that used to be on her finger that disappeared when he was six. That was the day she told him about his father. But recently there had been something else. 

Nate had returned home for the Christmas holidays of 2023. His mum had been happier then ever, helping him put up all the decorations and even some ivy they'd found in the park. The next day, she was wearing her best clothes, excited for whatever was coming. That's when Nate realised. She'd found someone.

His theory was correct. She introduced them at a cafe, clearly unsure how Nate would react. Nate didn't mind too much - Paul seemed nice. He was an artist and he immediately realised Nate's love of art. He made Marie happy, and that was all Nate could want. Paul and Nate quickly bonded, and Nate agreed that Paul could stay. 

However, when Nate returned for Christmas the next year, something was off. Nate didn't know what it was or why he knew it was different - he just had a feeling. 

His mum was happier than ever, but also more tired. Paul had taken up residence in their house permanently, which Nate didn't mind, but he was spending a lot of time with Nate's mum, leaving Nate annoyed and lonely. Eventually, Nate had had enough. He sat them down one evening and asked what was going on.

"We're having a baby! We didn't want to tell you until I'd had a proper check-up, but now you know!"

Nate was surprised but also relieved. He'd worried that the feeling was something bad, but a new brother or sister was something he could get on board with. He was glad that his family was all alright, and about to get bigger![/reducio]
year three • xxx
» » [i]---[/i]
year four • xxx
» » [i]---[/i]
year five • xxx
» » [i]---[/i]
year six • xxx
» »[i]---[/i]
year seven • xxx
» » [i]---[/i]
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[center]Quidditch Second-String Keeper
✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥[center]
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