Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread:
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for:
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):Calming Presence
Your presence simply puts others at ease, if it is your carefree personality or the trust others have in you, the result is still the same. With you there, perhaps through your encouragement, your allies are able to better focus their spells and skills.
Effect: An aura of calm. Allies (defined at the START of an instance regardless of later betrayal) gain a 10% chance to auto-hit their chosen target. This does not stack.
Reducio
If there was an epitome of calming presence as a person it would be no other than Cirrus Hotae Nam, the very Hufflepuff boy who's soft gentle voice alone can calm even the most anxious of people. It's hard to explain it, but others find themselves suddenly untensed and a feeling of comfortability wash over them when in the boy's presence. As because it's Cirrus, the soft-spoken big-hearted boy who in everyone's eyes could never do any wrong, even if so he is quickly forgiven because... It's him, he couldn't have done it on purpose, and no one's perfect, right? It's hard to pinpoint what exactly makes Cirrus's aura so soothing to those around him, albeit friends, family, or even the common day stranger he interacts with at a grocery store. Many like to say he has this little bubble of positivity, peace, and awkwardness that's enough to put even the most weary minds at ease. Whether this can be contributed to the boy's hushed soft mellowed visuals, of gentle bright eyes of warm pooling honey, and mousy tousled hazelnut hair, or optimistic disposition that seems down for anything as long as it it makes the other smile. He is loyal, charismatic, kind, funny, and easy-going, which makes him come across as dependable and trustworthy to those around him. Also due to his rather slow and dense nature, he is often referred to as a himbo, because he is only book-smart, and is often willing to help others study even if he doesn't know them. His honesty and great listening skills make him a valuable companion, however, he suffers from a lack of decisiveness, which can make him hesitant and unsure in certain situations causing him to act recklessly but can be seen as fun to others. Additionally, Cirrus struggles with his awkwardness, clumsiness, and nerves, and he is genuinely an overall a pretty quiet kid as well. Cirrus typically comes across as friendly, down-to-earth, and approachable, and his awkwardness makes those who are shy feel better as he isn't a cool boy that tris to push them or pressure them, creating a sense of relatability. He is often described as wholesome, innocent, energetic, and has a carefree demeanor, a warm welcoming smile, and the personality of a toddler despite also being seen as responsible. Cirrus doesn't wear anything flashy or attention-seeking and often looks pretty well-put-together and easily blurs into the crowd. Even though he doesn't catch people's eyes immediately he has a quiet loyal strength and a relatively subtle boyish charm, perfectly excluding boy next-door vibes which can be seen as friendly and calming to most. Around Hogwarts he is often seen by Gekko Phillips's side, which often showcases his unwavering loyalty. Cirrus being a muggle enjoys many regular things his kid's age including video games, but also loves rolling around outside sometimes his usual elegant timid and mature demeanor to do childish out-of-pocket things. Like starting a snowball fight against a girl he doesn't know, sneaking out to Hogsmeade with Gekko, trying to catch random animals to keep as 'pets', or climbing something against his better judgement only to get stuck. Cirrus is a boy of no enemies, and n frankly no one can bring themselves to hate the golden boy who works he hardest and tries to make everyone as comfortable as possible, often becoming friends within at first meeting them. (565/200)
STATUS: Approved, Cassius, 28 April 2025
—cirrus nam
—Watermelon sugar high—
melor baskakova—
Ability Applications
Link to ency:
Name of ability you are applying for: Keeper's catch
Describe why this ability fits your character:
ReducioEvery since Andy was a child, he played a lot of different sports, and one of his favorite was soccer. Since he wasn't that good, he was always put into goal, and that is how he got every passionate about this position, and this is how it all started. Back in the day, the boy was only 9. It was game day for the PSC, or Perth Soccer Club. Overall, the team was not that good, with our only good player being injured, and he was our keeper. That ment only one thing: Andy was in goal. He was the back up keeper for the club, and even though he was horrible before this game, he was good now, and no one even knows yet. The game started as our rivals, Iverness Soccer Academy [ISA] got into there positions. The reason why the team was PSC's rival is because they got beat by them every time Andy's team played against them. Today though, everything will change. The game came down to the final minutes with the score being 0-0 and one of the opposing players got a open shot on the goal, that was deflected by Andy. He stretched out his body to it's limit, just like he practiced with his private coach. he was the reason Andy reached that kick, and made a amazing punt all the way to the opposing teams penalty box, and one of Andy's team mates scores a goal. Everyoen swarmed Andy, and this is the reason Andy tried out for the keeper position in Quidditch. But, this is not over yet. it took Andy a lot of hard work to become a good SOCCER keeper, but Andy never played keeper in QUIDDITCH. Even though Andy worked very hard to get to this point itself, he had to finish his job. He worked by himself every day, punting the ball into the hoops, or to one of the wooden dummies Andy set up. When the boy mastered that, he to blocking. In soccer the keeper defended only one goal. But here at Quidditch, we defended three hoops. It took Andy so much to master the art of blocking and being a keeper, but he was still not done improving. Never give up, and you will acheieve your goals. All of this was hard to get too, but this was what Andy worked for, this is why you don't quit. Never.
STATUS: Approved, Cassius, 29 April 2025
Andy Loggins, Ravenclaw
Ability Applications
Link to ency: https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?f=169&t=37738
Name of ability you are applying for: Sixth Sense
Describe why this ability fits your character:
Name of ability you are applying for: Sixth Sense
Describe why this ability fits your character:
Reducio
The alley behind Mikey’s flat had always been a little weird. Not scary, not haunted just off. The air back there felt heavier than the rest of the neighborhood. As a 10 year old kid, Mikey would sit on the back step and watch it for hours, like it was some kind of puzzle that hadn’t been solved yet.
One evening, right after the rain had stopped, Mikey sat with his chin on his knees and listened to the steady drip drip drip of water running off the rooftops. It was quiet. Too quiet. One of those silences where a pin drop could not only be heard but deafening.
Then he noticed it. A shape, just barely visible nestled between two garbage bins. It hadn’t been there five minutes ago. Most people would’ve missed it. He almost did. But something about it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t just the shape. It was the way the air shifted around it. Like the alley was holding its breath and running out of air.
He stood up slowly, heart starting to pound. It wasn’t fear exactly. It was certainty. Something was there. Watching. Waiting. Mikey picked up a rock and tossed it casually past the bins. The shape flinched. Just a tiny movement. But it was enough. "Oi," he called out, voice steady. "I see you."
A long pause followed. Then, the shape shifted again — not something supernatural or ghostly, but a man, dressed in black, face mostly hidden beneath a cap. Mikey didn’t move. "You live here?" the man finally asked. Mikey nodded. "Didn’t think anyone’d notice me," he muttered, before getting up and walking off quickly.
Mikey watched him go, the tension slowly draining from the air as the man disappeared down the street. Later that night, Mikey’s mother told him there’d been break-ins on the next block over.
He didn’t mention what he saw. It probably would have just scared her and Mikey didn't think he would be back after being seen. It wasn’t the first time he’d picked up on something others didn’t the strange way people glanced at his arms, the way animals paused near him for just a second too long. He was just good at noticing things. Tiny details. Patterns. And more than that, he could feel when something was wrong. Even before Hogwarts, Mikey knew he was different. More than just observant or noticing extra details. It was a whole feeling that could almost even be overwhelming at times.
One evening, right after the rain had stopped, Mikey sat with his chin on his knees and listened to the steady drip drip drip of water running off the rooftops. It was quiet. Too quiet. One of those silences where a pin drop could not only be heard but deafening.
Then he noticed it. A shape, just barely visible nestled between two garbage bins. It hadn’t been there five minutes ago. Most people would’ve missed it. He almost did. But something about it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t just the shape. It was the way the air shifted around it. Like the alley was holding its breath and running out of air.
He stood up slowly, heart starting to pound. It wasn’t fear exactly. It was certainty. Something was there. Watching. Waiting. Mikey picked up a rock and tossed it casually past the bins. The shape flinched. Just a tiny movement. But it was enough. "Oi," he called out, voice steady. "I see you."
A long pause followed. Then, the shape shifted again — not something supernatural or ghostly, but a man, dressed in black, face mostly hidden beneath a cap. Mikey didn’t move. "You live here?" the man finally asked. Mikey nodded. "Didn’t think anyone’d notice me," he muttered, before getting up and walking off quickly.
Mikey watched him go, the tension slowly draining from the air as the man disappeared down the street. Later that night, Mikey’s mother told him there’d been break-ins on the next block over.
He didn’t mention what he saw. It probably would have just scared her and Mikey didn't think he would be back after being seen. It wasn’t the first time he’d picked up on something others didn’t the strange way people glanced at his arms, the way animals paused near him for just a second too long. He was just good at noticing things. Tiny details. Patterns. And more than that, he could feel when something was wrong. Even before Hogwarts, Mikey knew he was different. More than just observant or noticing extra details. It was a whole feeling that could almost even be overwhelming at times.
STATUS: Approved, Cassius, 30 April 2025
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Maybe I am dark in the heart
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Cruciatus Curse
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
ReducioThe Cruciatus Curse had an unmatchable power and its ethic was often deemed to have a questionable character that required more than just what we see as magical ability, it demanded an emotional intensity and moral purity of intent possessed by few people. Akeem's transformation from trained Auror to hardened enforcer of justice sets the stage for his unconventional but effective use of this such merciless curse.
Akeem's transformation from professionally trained Auror to gritty justice enforcer leads the way into his unconventional but effective use of this such callous curse. Akeem started his working career as magical law enforcer at age 21, earning a place within the Auror Office with promises to maintain justice and safeguard the magical world against evil forces. He served eight tough years conducting combat operations that entailed high-risk investigations and field encounters that required rapid decisions and unparallellled discipline. It was under these trying circumstances—chasing dark witches and wizards through war-torn territories, rescuing victims of unlawful magical experimentation and coping with renegade practitioners of the Dark Arts—that Akeem not only honed his magical skills but was exposed to the darker aspects of wizardkind.
Unlike the majority that have been enticed by the seductive potential of the Cruciatus Curse, Akeem never went to it for cruelty or violence. His first use of the curse was in a covert operation where a renowned torturer, a retired dark operative, had abducted and was actually torturing innocents with cursed objects. At that time, negotiations had failed, defensive spells had been breached and time was running out for the victims. Having no other appropriate method to overcome the torturer, Akeem, with a righteous fury and the need to end the agony as quickly as possible, used the Cruciatus Curse.
This was a huge transition to his abilities and the discovery that in a state of heightened emotional clarity—based on justice and necessity—he could cast a spell that even most dare does not touch. In time, his application of the Cruciatus came to be rare and never without intense deliberation. He did not romanticize its impact nor recoil from the psychic burden it imposed and in mission reports afterward, he never once tried to justify or hide its deployment. Instead, he documented its application with integrity and responsibility
What sets Akeem apart is not only his ability to wield the curse but his mastery over the emotions required to invoke it incorruptibly. His strategic mindset has developed through years of high-risk field operations which allowed him to compartmentalize pain, anger, and fear—using them as tools rather than succumbing to them. He is not a sadist, but he is more of a soldier with tactician mastery and understands the grim realities of combat against dark forces.
STATUS: Denied, Ruby, May 7
Crucio has the prerequisite of being an adult, and you already chose 5 stat points for your adult advancement log. You could apply for it next year.
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Here
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Components
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Components
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
Piper had always been a collector of sorts. It was, in a way, her mother’s fault. As soon as Piper could walk, her mother insisted she carry a little canvas bag with her. It would be full of various items like bits of string, bottle caps, bent paper clips, screws and the occasional marble that had somehow found its way into the collection. Wherever they went, Piper toddled along behind her mother, the bag bumping against her leg, asking the same question over and over again: “Why do I have to carry this?” Her mother always gave the same answer, half-playful, half-serious: “You never know when you’ll need something.”
At first, it didn’t make much sense to Piper. But over time, she began to understand - or at least believe - that there was always something good in being prepared. She began to look for little treasures of her own, digging through the garage to find unused screws, gears, and bits of wire. She’d sneak them upstairs, cradling them like gemstones, and hide them carefully under her bed or in shoeboxes tucked into her closet. It never felt like stealing—this was her house, after all. But still, she was secretive, instinctively protective of her growing collection.
When her mother died, Piper was only five. The world seemed to shrink and tilt off balance, and in the absence of her mother’s voice and steady presence, the collecting didn’t stop - it only grew. Now she wasn’t just picking things up from home, but from everywhere. Wandering the sidewalks of the neighborhood, she’d stoop to grab rusted bolts, keys without locks, shiny wrappers, the occasional button. Her hands and pockets were never empty for long.
The neighbors noticed, well of course they did. But instead of stopping her or scolding her, they quietly encouraged the habit. Mrs. Pennington from across the street began to leave old costume jewelry on her fence. Mr. Thompson, the retired carpenter, would drop a few oddly-shaped pieces of wood near her path. Even the kid next door once left a broken watch on the curb, pretending he hadn’t seen Piper scoop it up. In some quiet, unspoken way, the neighborhood took care of her - not with words, but with offerings of oddities and fragments.
Within a year, Piper’s room was filled. Drawers refused to close. Jars lined the windowsills. Her shelves sagged under the weight of everything she’d deemed worth saving. Then one afternoon, she sat cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by the day’s finds: a bent fork, a small glass bottle, a length of twine, and a small piece of leather. She picked each item up, turning it over in her fingers, thinking. And then she remembered - not just the collecting, but what came after. The noise. The building. The creativity that came when her mother would dump out the contents of their bags and say, “Let’s see what we can make.”
A tiny spark lit behind Piper’s eyes. She missed the mess. She missed the sound of metal hitting together and the snap when something fit just right. Most of all, she missed the joy of turning scraps into something new. And so, as she looked around her room filled with treasures and possibilities, Piper made the decision to start making things again.
Because collecting was never the end. It was only the beginning.
At first, it didn’t make much sense to Piper. But over time, she began to understand - or at least believe - that there was always something good in being prepared. She began to look for little treasures of her own, digging through the garage to find unused screws, gears, and bits of wire. She’d sneak them upstairs, cradling them like gemstones, and hide them carefully under her bed or in shoeboxes tucked into her closet. It never felt like stealing—this was her house, after all. But still, she was secretive, instinctively protective of her growing collection.
When her mother died, Piper was only five. The world seemed to shrink and tilt off balance, and in the absence of her mother’s voice and steady presence, the collecting didn’t stop - it only grew. Now she wasn’t just picking things up from home, but from everywhere. Wandering the sidewalks of the neighborhood, she’d stoop to grab rusted bolts, keys without locks, shiny wrappers, the occasional button. Her hands and pockets were never empty for long.
The neighbors noticed, well of course they did. But instead of stopping her or scolding her, they quietly encouraged the habit. Mrs. Pennington from across the street began to leave old costume jewelry on her fence. Mr. Thompson, the retired carpenter, would drop a few oddly-shaped pieces of wood near her path. Even the kid next door once left a broken watch on the curb, pretending he hadn’t seen Piper scoop it up. In some quiet, unspoken way, the neighborhood took care of her - not with words, but with offerings of oddities and fragments.
Within a year, Piper’s room was filled. Drawers refused to close. Jars lined the windowsills. Her shelves sagged under the weight of everything she’d deemed worth saving. Then one afternoon, she sat cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by the day’s finds: a bent fork, a small glass bottle, a length of twine, and a small piece of leather. She picked each item up, turning it over in her fingers, thinking. And then she remembered - not just the collecting, but what came after. The noise. The building. The creativity that came when her mother would dump out the contents of their bags and say, “Let’s see what we can make.”
A tiny spark lit behind Piper’s eyes. She missed the mess. She missed the sound of metal hitting together and the snap when something fit just right. Most of all, she missed the joy of turning scraps into something new. And so, as she looked around her room filled with treasures and possibilities, Piper made the decision to start making things again.
Because collecting was never the end. It was only the beginning.
Approved - Koko, 18 May 2025
| PC Piper Hart - Slytherin | |
Sta: x | Eva: x | Str: x | Wis: x | Arc: x | Acc: x |
Sta: x | Eva: x | Str: x | Wis: x | Arc: x | Acc: x |
Phoenix Zhang
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread:P. Harlow's Ency
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Perfectionist
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Perfectionist
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
Before Phoenix had ever uttered a single word of magic, she already knew what it was like to fail the silent tests that other individuals gave her — the ones that were not cued in marks, but in glances, tone, patience. She had not meant to come across as aloof. She had not meant to drive people away. But it still kept occurring. Her voice fell wrong. Her reticence went on for too long. So she abandoned all attempts at winning people over and started putting everything into the one thing that didn't ask her to get things right or smile on demand:
Getting things right.
At home, this translated into finishing workdays early, organizing books by topic and color of spine, rewriting entire essays because her handwriting looked like "sloppy." Nobody required her to be perfect — nobody needed to. The stress was internal. Mistakes made her crawl out of her skin. Narrow escapes haunted her. If she couldn't be tremendous at something, she wasn't worth it. Period.
When she got to Hogwarts, the feeling intensified. Everything was new. Loud. Disorderly. Her classmates befriended each other with a glance, spoke a language that made no sense. But magic — magic had rules. It had discipline. It could be learned.
So she did.
She worked late at night copying until they were equal. She repeated simple wand work over and over until her wrist glided like a machine. Even if she nailed the incantation, if the spell didn't land just as she envisioned it, she started over. Again. And again. Students around her were celebrating subpar results. Phoenix didn't look up until it was perfect.
It didn't matter if no one else could see it. It didn't matter if no one would ever appreciate her efforts. In her mind, if it wasn't flawless, it didn't matter.
It had never been as much about success. It had been about dominance. Neatness. Her own personal rebellion in a world that most of the time appeared to be ahead of her socially. If she couldn't be comprehensible, then at least she could be exceptional.
Several of the students started to avoid working on group projects with her — she was too much, too hyper. Others smirked that she thought she was better than the rest. Phoenix didn't pipe up. Let them imagine.
She wasn't attempting to one-up anyone else.
She was simply trying to prove to herself, rather than anyone else, that she could.
Getting things right.
At home, this translated into finishing workdays early, organizing books by topic and color of spine, rewriting entire essays because her handwriting looked like "sloppy." Nobody required her to be perfect — nobody needed to. The stress was internal. Mistakes made her crawl out of her skin. Narrow escapes haunted her. If she couldn't be tremendous at something, she wasn't worth it. Period.
When she got to Hogwarts, the feeling intensified. Everything was new. Loud. Disorderly. Her classmates befriended each other with a glance, spoke a language that made no sense. But magic — magic had rules. It had discipline. It could be learned.
So she did.
She worked late at night copying until they were equal. She repeated simple wand work over and over until her wrist glided like a machine. Even if she nailed the incantation, if the spell didn't land just as she envisioned it, she started over. Again. And again. Students around her were celebrating subpar results. Phoenix didn't look up until it was perfect.
It didn't matter if no one else could see it. It didn't matter if no one would ever appreciate her efforts. In her mind, if it wasn't flawless, it didn't matter.
It had never been as much about success. It had been about dominance. Neatness. Her own personal rebellion in a world that most of the time appeared to be ahead of her socially. If she couldn't be comprehensible, then at least she could be exceptional.
Several of the students started to avoid working on group projects with her — she was too much, too hyper. Others smirked that she thought she was better than the rest. Phoenix didn't pipe up. Let them imagine.
She wasn't attempting to one-up anyone else.
She was simply trying to prove to herself, rather than anyone else, that she could.
Approved - Koko, 18 May 2025
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: aye
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Poison Resistance (Year 2)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Word Count: 414
“This is the dialectic—there is a very short distance between high art and trash, and trash that contains an element of craziness is by this very quality nearer to art.” - Douglas Sirk
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Poison Resistance (Year 2)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Word Count: 414
Reducio
For years, Ruckus has been tinkering with potions. He is completely self-taught from books and from trial and error. And it's the trials and the errors that have gotten him here. Ever since his first pepperup potion, brewed at age eight, he's always made a point to try his creations first before allowing others to drink them. Thankfully, the pepperup potion was a half-decent brew: it did nothing to him, but it gave his sister some quick cold relief.
But due to his educational gaps and haphazard brewing methods, other potions haven't gone so swimmingly. After a particularly nasty injury (there was broomstick, a mad postman, an argument over Scottish independence, and a precocious five-year-old—it's a long story), Ruckus attempted to brew a Blood Replenishing Potion but instead stumbled upon Blood Root Poison. After a few nights in St. Mungo's and an earful from stern healer, Ruckus was back to brewing with an even stronger immune system.
He, of course, didn't listen to the healer, and he kept experimenting with potions. Along with his strict exercise regime, if anything he felt healthier after accidentally drinking a poison here or there.
In his late twenties, during a game of pick-up Quidditch, the opposing seeker threw a dose of Noxious Cloud Poison at Ruckus's face while he attempted to catch the snitch. Ruckus always made for a better keeper or beater, but he had been wiping the floor the with this seeker, out-maneuvering him at every turn. It was no wonder that the man resorted to cheating—and he thought his potioneering skills were better than his flying. And maybe they were, but Ruckus didn't have time to notice; he spotted the fluttering glint of gold through the thick cloud of poison and had enough wits to still win the game for his team.
In a grief-stricken stupor, Ruckus attempted to brew the Forgetfulness Potion after a great calamity on his fortieth birthday. Stumbling around his Dublin bar, he chose cherries instead of mistletoe berries, switched moonseed for valerian, and Hellebore syrup instead of lethe water, and then drank the entire concoction in one gulp. Turns out he had made Garish Pink Poison, and he spent the next week fighting through a severe delirium where he was a fancy pirate sailing his gold ship (his pirate's hat was a trash can and his ship was a broken bar stool). But with the dose he gave himself, he should have been garishly inclined for at least two-and-a-half weeks.
But due to his educational gaps and haphazard brewing methods, other potions haven't gone so swimmingly. After a particularly nasty injury (there was broomstick, a mad postman, an argument over Scottish independence, and a precocious five-year-old—it's a long story), Ruckus attempted to brew a Blood Replenishing Potion but instead stumbled upon Blood Root Poison. After a few nights in St. Mungo's and an earful from stern healer, Ruckus was back to brewing with an even stronger immune system.
He, of course, didn't listen to the healer, and he kept experimenting with potions. Along with his strict exercise regime, if anything he felt healthier after accidentally drinking a poison here or there.
In his late twenties, during a game of pick-up Quidditch, the opposing seeker threw a dose of Noxious Cloud Poison at Ruckus's face while he attempted to catch the snitch. Ruckus always made for a better keeper or beater, but he had been wiping the floor the with this seeker, out-maneuvering him at every turn. It was no wonder that the man resorted to cheating—and he thought his potioneering skills were better than his flying. And maybe they were, but Ruckus didn't have time to notice; he spotted the fluttering glint of gold through the thick cloud of poison and had enough wits to still win the game for his team.
In a grief-stricken stupor, Ruckus attempted to brew the Forgetfulness Potion after a great calamity on his fortieth birthday. Stumbling around his Dublin bar, he chose cherries instead of mistletoe berries, switched moonseed for valerian, and Hellebore syrup instead of lethe water, and then drank the entire concoction in one gulp. Turns out he had made Garish Pink Poison, and he spent the next week fighting through a severe delirium where he was a fancy pirate sailing his gold ship (his pirate's hat was a trash can and his ship was a broken bar stool). But with the dose he gave himself, he should have been garishly inclined for at least two-and-a-half weeks.
Approved, Octavius Baird - 5/18/2025
“This is the dialectic—there is a very short distance between high art and trash, and trash that contains an element of craziness is by this very quality nearer to art.” - Douglas Sirk
also Della Barfield | Quentin Gagné
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Perfection.
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for:
Y5 Ability: Wandless Magic
Seven Minutes is all I can spare to grade your HW.
[ sta ] 10 [ eva ] 15 [ str ] 01 [ wis ] 20 [ arc ] 10 [ acc ] 14
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for:
Y5 Ability: Wandless Magic
Reducio
Y6 Ability: Restricted PotionsAt the age of fifteen, Samuel no longer saw magic as a subject to be studied. He regarded it as an extension of himself, one that demanded not passion but restraint from him. While others his age were still refining wandwork, pitifully trying to perfect their flourishes and dramatic incantations, Samuel had already begun to transcend the wand itself. Able to perform magic, even without a wand was not a talent he had discovered by accident, nor one he flaunted in duels or classroom demonstrations. It was a calculated evolution of control. A logical conclusion he had arrived in a world where dependence was always considered a liability by his parents.
Most wizards had grown way too accustomed to their wands. Clutching them with the desperation of a drowning man grasping at a lifeline. Samuel found this reliance on wands, distasteful. The very notion that a length of wood could be the boundary between power and helplessness struck him as weakness. He needed to be more than that, to be what humans used to be. Their magic flowing freely without a conduit to maintain them. And so he became more.
Wandless casting for Samuel did not come in the form of uncontrolled bursts of flames or flares. There were no spectacles, no explosions and no uncontrolled surges of magic. When he attempted wandless magic, it was quiet, purposeful and as clinical as a surgery. He would speak the incantation, sharply, clearly and with confidence. His hand never flailing, never theatrical in their movement. He would snap, twitch, flick or sometimes nothing at all. And the magic, his magic would respond. Not with uncontrolled eagerness but obedience.
His own tutor during summer vacation noticed the change in his abilities. Though he said nothing, Professor Vector made a passing comment to his mother, "It is highly unusual to see such focus in a child at this age, much rarer for it to be channeled without a wand." he said no more and left it at that. One of his other tutors remarked it as "a fascinating trick" and never came back for a class again. His parents weren't sure if the tutor was impressed or unsettled.
The truth was, Samuel had trained long hours for it. Quietly, relentlessly, alone. He experimented with all that came to his mind. Gesture efficiency, mapping the minimum muscle contraction one would require to trigger magical compliance. He unsuccessfully attempted to rewrite spell structures. A feeble attempt at identifying which incantations tolerated non wand focus and which proved resistant to it. When his dormmates were asleep, he would stand in the dark, practicing Disarming Charms with nothing but whispered Latin and a flick of two fingers. He did not consider it rebellious. He considered it necessary for his own goals.
The thought of what happens when a wand it taken haunted him. What happens when your enemy snaps your wand in half. Samuel continued to have these question for himself, not out of fear but preparation. His past had already taught him one lesson. Brutal clarity, control can be taken unless it is internalized.
He was aware of his humanity, he wasn't invincible. The physical gestures still bound him. He was not immune to magical restriction like silencing charms or paralysis. But wandless magic made him less reliant, and for Samuel Reinhard Sauber. That meant less vulnerability.
Most wizards had grown way too accustomed to their wands. Clutching them with the desperation of a drowning man grasping at a lifeline. Samuel found this reliance on wands, distasteful. The very notion that a length of wood could be the boundary between power and helplessness struck him as weakness. He needed to be more than that, to be what humans used to be. Their magic flowing freely without a conduit to maintain them. And so he became more.
Wandless casting for Samuel did not come in the form of uncontrolled bursts of flames or flares. There were no spectacles, no explosions and no uncontrolled surges of magic. When he attempted wandless magic, it was quiet, purposeful and as clinical as a surgery. He would speak the incantation, sharply, clearly and with confidence. His hand never flailing, never theatrical in their movement. He would snap, twitch, flick or sometimes nothing at all. And the magic, his magic would respond. Not with uncontrolled eagerness but obedience.
His own tutor during summer vacation noticed the change in his abilities. Though he said nothing, Professor Vector made a passing comment to his mother, "It is highly unusual to see such focus in a child at this age, much rarer for it to be channeled without a wand." he said no more and left it at that. One of his other tutors remarked it as "a fascinating trick" and never came back for a class again. His parents weren't sure if the tutor was impressed or unsettled.
The truth was, Samuel had trained long hours for it. Quietly, relentlessly, alone. He experimented with all that came to his mind. Gesture efficiency, mapping the minimum muscle contraction one would require to trigger magical compliance. He unsuccessfully attempted to rewrite spell structures. A feeble attempt at identifying which incantations tolerated non wand focus and which proved resistant to it. When his dormmates were asleep, he would stand in the dark, practicing Disarming Charms with nothing but whispered Latin and a flick of two fingers. He did not consider it rebellious. He considered it necessary for his own goals.
The thought of what happens when a wand it taken haunted him. What happens when your enemy snaps your wand in half. Samuel continued to have these question for himself, not out of fear but preparation. His past had already taught him one lesson. Brutal clarity, control can be taken unless it is internalized.
He was aware of his humanity, he wasn't invincible. The physical gestures still bound him. He was not immune to magical restriction like silencing charms or paralysis. But wandless magic made him less reliant, and for Samuel Reinhard Sauber. That meant less vulnerability.
Reducio
Y7 Ability: Non-VerbalBy sixteen, Samuel Reinhard Sauber had long outpaced the rigid framework of the Hogwarts curriculum. While others were content to brew what was prescribed to them. Samuel found such things almost offensively mundane against his existence. These were safe, sanctioned, blunted tools designed for those who needed guardrails. Sam had never needed them.
His academic record was spotless for it's entirety. More than that. it was surgically clean. Every essay was delivered with precision. In every practical, each potion was brewed to the exact letter of the text, and when situation demanded it. Way, beyond it. He never sought praise from those older than him. He considered praise, a distraction, but it founds it's way towards him nonetheless. "He reads like someone twice his age." "He frightens me a little."
It was only natural progression that sooner or later Samuel gained access to the Restricted Section of library by his sixth year. A place which he had already heard about from seniors before stepping foot inside. However, unlike most students who gained entry out of curiosity or a misplaced sense of mystery, Samuel had stepped inside with purpose. His interest in the Restricted Section did not in proving himself. It was about gaining information that which was denied to the average minds. Knowledge kept secret not because it was dangerous, but because it required discipline to be used correctly. And discipline, that was something Samuel possessed in abundance.
By sixteen, he was already experimenting with potions that had been redacted in standard textbooks. Methods that required triple-purified essence of some creature under a very specific moon phase; Some of these recipes were centuries old. Some were incomplete. None of them scared the experimentalist in him.
He approached these as he did all things, with cold logic and a calculated detachment. His dormitory as well as his parent's residence became a place of silence and alchemical precision for Samuel. Notebooks filled with coded annotations. Diagrams of potion layers, reactions, their timelines, counteragent variants and whatnot. He brewed not to impress, but to understand.
The Restricted Potions were not forbidden because they were thought to be evil, they were instead forbidden because the average student lacked the rigor or the intelligence to handle them. Samuel was not your average student.
At this age, Samuel Reinhard Sauber had realized that true power came not from casting spells or brewing, rather. It came from knowing the things others feared to know and to be holding that knowledge in silence was power itself.
His academic record was spotless for it's entirety. More than that. it was surgically clean. Every essay was delivered with precision. In every practical, each potion was brewed to the exact letter of the text, and when situation demanded it. Way, beyond it. He never sought praise from those older than him. He considered praise, a distraction, but it founds it's way towards him nonetheless. "He reads like someone twice his age." "He frightens me a little."
It was only natural progression that sooner or later Samuel gained access to the Restricted Section of library by his sixth year. A place which he had already heard about from seniors before stepping foot inside. However, unlike most students who gained entry out of curiosity or a misplaced sense of mystery, Samuel had stepped inside with purpose. His interest in the Restricted Section did not in proving himself. It was about gaining information that which was denied to the average minds. Knowledge kept secret not because it was dangerous, but because it required discipline to be used correctly. And discipline, that was something Samuel possessed in abundance.
By sixteen, he was already experimenting with potions that had been redacted in standard textbooks. Methods that required triple-purified essence of some creature under a very specific moon phase; Some of these recipes were centuries old. Some were incomplete. None of them scared the experimentalist in him.
He approached these as he did all things, with cold logic and a calculated detachment. His dormitory as well as his parent's residence became a place of silence and alchemical precision for Samuel. Notebooks filled with coded annotations. Diagrams of potion layers, reactions, their timelines, counteragent variants and whatnot. He brewed not to impress, but to understand.
The Restricted Potions were not forbidden because they were thought to be evil, they were instead forbidden because the average student lacked the rigor or the intelligence to handle them. Samuel was not your average student.
At this age, Samuel Reinhard Sauber had realized that true power came not from casting spells or brewing, rather. It came from knowing the things others feared to know and to be holding that knowledge in silence was power itself.
Reducio
By the age of Seventeen, Sam no longer needed his words or his wand in order to command the arcane. His voice, as sharp and precise as it had been was now a mere option and not a necessity in his life. The world of magic, which for others meant dependency on incantations and gestures, had finally bent beneath his will to a more intimate plane of existence. A more silent, invisible and internal one. Where most needed to speak in order to be heard by their magic. Samuel only needed a whisper within, and his spells would obey.
This wasn't achieved through talent. It wasn't the mark of a maestro or a gifted savant or some lucky accident in bloodlines. It was the culmination of relentless, isolated study of his own. Years spent pushing past the barriers where most failed. Suffering through the frustrating silence between thought and effect. Others would give up when their first non-verbal spell fizzled. Samuel however dissected and examined every failure of his with surgical precision. He did not rely on feelings. He constructed a theory of intent so refined within him that eventually the silence became an instrument for his control.
His first nonverbal success was nothing more than a simple Levitation Charm. One performed in the dead of night. Just his thoughts; sharp, focused, and cold. His quill had risen in the air, not wavered. Risen. By the age of seventeen, Samuel no longer questioned whether he could do it. He only questioned how efficiently he could repeat it.
Combined with his already honed wandless control, the result was something that bordered on terrifying. Others would fear being bound, gagged or disarmed. Samuel, however, no longer possessed such weakness. All he needed was his voice. He no longer required his wand or his voice. As long as he remained conscious, he remained dangerous.
Samuel never abused this talent. He didn't cast on classmates for sports, never showed off. Power, as he understood it was degraded when made into a spectacle. And more importantly, true power was most effective when it's limits remained unknown to others. There was no satisfaction for Samuel in being feared for flashy spells. But to be underestimated, and to then quietly prove them wrong when it mattered. That was what mattered. That was what Samuel saw as precision, as Control.
At seventeen, Samuel Reinhard Sauber was beginning to embody the idea of magic he had aspired to be since childhood. Quiet, invisible, always awake. No more a boy with a wand.
He was now a weapon with a mind.
This wasn't achieved through talent. It wasn't the mark of a maestro or a gifted savant or some lucky accident in bloodlines. It was the culmination of relentless, isolated study of his own. Years spent pushing past the barriers where most failed. Suffering through the frustrating silence between thought and effect. Others would give up when their first non-verbal spell fizzled. Samuel however dissected and examined every failure of his with surgical precision. He did not rely on feelings. He constructed a theory of intent so refined within him that eventually the silence became an instrument for his control.
His first nonverbal success was nothing more than a simple Levitation Charm. One performed in the dead of night. Just his thoughts; sharp, focused, and cold. His quill had risen in the air, not wavered. Risen. By the age of seventeen, Samuel no longer questioned whether he could do it. He only questioned how efficiently he could repeat it.
Combined with his already honed wandless control, the result was something that bordered on terrifying. Others would fear being bound, gagged or disarmed. Samuel, however, no longer possessed such weakness. All he needed was his voice. He no longer required his wand or his voice. As long as he remained conscious, he remained dangerous.
Samuel never abused this talent. He didn't cast on classmates for sports, never showed off. Power, as he understood it was degraded when made into a spectacle. And more importantly, true power was most effective when it's limits remained unknown to others. There was no satisfaction for Samuel in being feared for flashy spells. But to be underestimated, and to then quietly prove them wrong when it mattered. That was what mattered. That was what Samuel saw as precision, as Control.
At seventeen, Samuel Reinhard Sauber was beginning to embody the idea of magic he had aspired to be since childhood. Quiet, invisible, always awake. No more a boy with a wand.
He was now a weapon with a mind.
Approved, Octavius Baird (5/19/2025)
Seven Minutes is all I can spare to grade your HW.
[ sta ] 10 [ eva ] 15 [ str ] 01 [ wis ] 20 [ arc ] 10 [ acc ] 14
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Christina Rose | Gryffindor | First year
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for:
's grace
Describe why this fits your character:
'If the map says "here be dragons", that's exactly where I want to go'
sta ◦ 10 | eva ◦ 9 | str ◦ 2 | wis ◦ 5 | arc ◦ 7 | acc ◦ 7
𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒂 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for:
's graceDescribe why this fits your character:
Reducio
[Words: 428]From a young age, Christina has been an adventurous spirit. She used to run miles with her sister, through the forest that was near her home. Her parents never liked it, obviously: two young girls, running around a forest, all by themselves. However, whenever they could, the two mischievous siblings snuck out to hang out in the forest.
The first few times the girls had snuck out, when Christina was almost ten years old, they were quickly caught. Christina vividly remembered one hot summer's day that they tried to leave through an open window in the bathroom. Her little sister quickly managed to squeeze her way through, ending up on the roof. She tried to follow, but didn't get very far. After pushing one leg through, following it up with her upper body, she looked down. That was her first mistake. Christina remembered that she was visibly shaking. She had forgotten about her fear of heights, and was reminded of it too late. However, Christina also made a second mistake. Instead of pushing through her fear, she started screaming. She quickly heard footsteps running up the stairs, and before she knew it, her parents had gotten her out of the window, which she was halfway through climbing.
After this one failed adventure, the two girls tried again, and again to sneak out. Through trial and error, they got good at it. So good, in fact, that they could even walk right past their parents without being noticed by them. Another time they snuck out, which is just before Christina got their Hogwarts letter, was the most successful yet. By then, their parents were used to them sneaking out, which is why they were always very watchful over them. However, the two girls had a plan. Christina turned on the television, and pretended to make something in the kitchen, 'listening to the television on the background'. While her parents seemed distracted, Christina and her sister snuck right past them, through the front door. All the while, Christina kept her eyes on them. However, she was confident they wouldn't get caught.
Thinking back on it, Christina wondered why she never asked her parents to come with them on their adventures. If she had, she'd never had to sneak around like that. Perhaps Christina liked the thrill of sneaking around, escaping situations and monitoring people without them noticing it. However, she did learn one thing, and that is being sneaky. Moving around with a cat-like grace, not being noticed by others. Which was actually quite a feat, considering her loud personality.
STATUS: Approved, Ruby, May 30
'If the map says "here be dragons", that's exactly where I want to go'
sta ◦ 10 | eva ◦ 9 | str ◦ 2 | wis ◦ 5 | arc ◦ 7 | acc ◦ 7
𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒂 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: UwU
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Ability I/Yr 1 | Wandmaker
Describe why this fits your character:
Wood: Blackthorn Wood | 156/50
How he got the wand | WC: 293
"Living my life to the fullest." | Student Account - Raizel Voltrouz
STA: 10| EVA: 15| STR: 13| WIS: 12| ARC: 5| ACC: 15
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Ability I/Yr 1 | Wandmaker
Describe why this fits your character:
Wood: Blackthorn Wood | 156/50
Reducio
Wandcore: Thunderbird Tail Feather | 106/50For an aspiring Auror, Oziel's methods were kind of weird or so people say. When one aspires to be an Auror, they would be honing their spell casting, their magic powers but that wasn't the case for Oziel. While sure, the boy had shown interest in magic and he does have a talent for it if he puts his mind into it, he leans more on letting his fists do the talking for him. A wand for such a person was tricky to find but lucky for him, his father knows just the right one. Blackthorn wood, known for its preferences for physical fighters. It was the perfect wood for Oziel. Aside from that, a wand such as this bonds well with its owner when they face danger together and knowing Oziel's and his courageous yet reckless antics, his path will be full of it. Lucky for him though, this wand shall be his forever companion.
Reducio
Length: 12.7 inches/32.26 cm | 107/50Of course, finding the right core was just as tricky as finding the right wood. With Oziel getting rejected by almost every wand he tried, the choices had gotten smaller. It was surprising that the boy continued to pursue the right wand for him with a positive outlook. Persistent, stubborn… doesn't know how to quit. Those traits of his was what led to the Thunderbird Tail Feather. A core that's drawn to the fighting spirit of someone, something that Oziel has plenty of. So when the time for him to test the wand that he had gotten from his father, it accepted him with open arms.
Reducio
Flexibility: Unyielding | 68/50With a charming smile on his face despite rugged look and sometimes a face full of bruises from his roughhousing with other kids, most people knew how friendly he is when not in the middle of prank or a fight. Always on the go and full of energy, Oziel never fails to make everything an adventure which ends up with him getting into troubles from other people. He is loud and confident in his skills but knows when to embrace humility. With a personality like that, his father figured it'd be best to give him a wand with a length that slightly leans to the longest.
Reducio
An Unyielding wand for a stubborn person who fights for what he believes is right. Combat-driven in most situations, not afraid of using his fists to do the talking for most of the time. Has enough confidence in his own strength that is usually mistaken for arrogance but that is what helps him in getting through the obstacles presented to him, not one to give up that easily.
How he got the wand | WC: 293
Reducio
Total WC: 730/400
His first year was coming in close yet every wand he tried just… wasn't right. At most, they refuse to work with him, his explosive personality clashing with the ideal owner of each wand. While disappointed from the recent rejections that wanda had given him, Oziel was determined to find the right one for him, something that he would call a partner for life until he draws his last breath. At that time, his father decided that if none of the wands around them would accept him, then he would just make it himself.
Oziel watched as his father worked through his wand, accompanying him in his search for the right wood. Blackthorn Wood is what he went for, recalling how it had to survive through hardship to bear its sweetest fruit. He knows that Oziel would thrive beyond the hardships that he may come across in the future, seen with how positive he remained after his numerous tries in getting the perfect wand. Thunderbird Tail Feather for the power it symbolizes, the stubbornness and the indomitable fighting spirit. A wand that's slightly longer (32.26 cm) for his confident, outgoing and loud personality that's enough to announce his arrival and then the unyielding flexibility for his unyielding determination. The moment young Oziel set his eyes on the wand when it was finished, he could feel it, telling that this wand was perfect.
A single touch at first and then a firm hold. It didn't fight him when he gave it a wave, it didn't let loose a magical energy out of protest for being held by the wrong owner. It remained silent, accepting. This person that was holding it was the one destined for it for it was made just for him.
Oziel watched as his father worked through his wand, accompanying him in his search for the right wood. Blackthorn Wood is what he went for, recalling how it had to survive through hardship to bear its sweetest fruit. He knows that Oziel would thrive beyond the hardships that he may come across in the future, seen with how positive he remained after his numerous tries in getting the perfect wand. Thunderbird Tail Feather for the power it symbolizes, the stubbornness and the indomitable fighting spirit. A wand that's slightly longer (32.26 cm) for his confident, outgoing and loud personality that's enough to announce his arrival and then the unyielding flexibility for his unyielding determination. The moment young Oziel set his eyes on the wand when it was finished, he could feel it, telling that this wand was perfect.
A single touch at first and then a firm hold. It didn't fight him when he gave it a wave, it didn't let loose a magical energy out of protest for being held by the wrong owner. It remained silent, accepting. This person that was holding it was the one destined for it for it was made just for him.
STATUS: Approved, Ruby, May 30
"Living my life to the fullest." | Student Account - Raizel Voltrouz
STA: 10| EVA: 15| STR: 13| WIS: 12| ARC: 5| ACC: 15