Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread : X
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for : Replacing Prodigal Transfiguration Learner with Spell Spread
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it) :
I was told I was dangerous. When I asked why, they said, "Because you don't need anyone." That's when I smiled.
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for : Replacing Prodigal Transfiguration Learner with Spell Spread
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it) :
Reducio
WC: 482
The future was barreling towards her.
That was just about the only thing Illowy could be certain that she knew was a fact. Everything else still felt so up in the air. She still had no firm ideas as to what she was going to do for the rest of her life, no inkling of what to do for her career, if she would retain any of her friends as they scattered to the wind to pursue their own dreams. What would become of the underclassmen she has to leave behind?
Her time left at Hogwarts was growing short, and the future ahead seemed so dauntingly close that it felt like a threat. She had yet to muster much excitement for all the possibilities her life could hold. It felt more paralyzing than anything else as long as she still struggled to find some semblance of direction.
Wherever she found herself though, whatever she chose to do, she knew she wanted to be ready for anything and everything. With her track record, she knew she wanted to be strong and terrifying. If her time spent at Hogwarts was anything to judge the world by, it was that danger potentially lurked around every corner; but unlike in the safety of her school, where Professors and Prefects were only a call away, the only person she was going to be able to depend on out in the big bad, world was going to be herself.
Was that not why she found herself still in the dueling training rooms, despite it having been so long since she was actually in a duel, trying to hone her focus and power to manage casting at two targets at the same time? Or was it because she had never been able to shake away the paranoia that had haunted her all these years? Was it the regret of not being able to do more? Of having been powerless to change the outcome, and being so weak that she couldn't protect herself, much less anyone else? Or maybe she was trying to prove something –though she wasn't sure she could name what she was trying to prove, or to whom.
Truthfully, she was about as sure of the why as she was sure about her plans for the future. She simply knew this innate need to grow her talents and skills felt safe and familiar in a time where her entire world was changing. The knowledge that she could always make herself stronger, that the only limitation was her own ambition and drive, it was self-sustaining every time she made the slightest iota of progress in whatever she was setting her mind to. If she had this next accomplishment, made herself that much stronger, maybe this would be the thing that allowed her to feel safe with herself, and by herself… before she becomes all she has out there.
The future was barreling towards her.
That was just about the only thing Illowy could be certain that she knew was a fact. Everything else still felt so up in the air. She still had no firm ideas as to what she was going to do for the rest of her life, no inkling of what to do for her career, if she would retain any of her friends as they scattered to the wind to pursue their own dreams. What would become of the underclassmen she has to leave behind?
Her time left at Hogwarts was growing short, and the future ahead seemed so dauntingly close that it felt like a threat. She had yet to muster much excitement for all the possibilities her life could hold. It felt more paralyzing than anything else as long as she still struggled to find some semblance of direction.
Wherever she found herself though, whatever she chose to do, she knew she wanted to be ready for anything and everything. With her track record, she knew she wanted to be strong and terrifying. If her time spent at Hogwarts was anything to judge the world by, it was that danger potentially lurked around every corner; but unlike in the safety of her school, where Professors and Prefects were only a call away, the only person she was going to be able to depend on out in the big bad, world was going to be herself.
Was that not why she found herself still in the dueling training rooms, despite it having been so long since she was actually in a duel, trying to hone her focus and power to manage casting at two targets at the same time? Or was it because she had never been able to shake away the paranoia that had haunted her all these years? Was it the regret of not being able to do more? Of having been powerless to change the outcome, and being so weak that she couldn't protect herself, much less anyone else? Or maybe she was trying to prove something –though she wasn't sure she could name what she was trying to prove, or to whom.
Truthfully, she was about as sure of the why as she was sure about her plans for the future. She simply knew this innate need to grow her talents and skills felt safe and familiar in a time where her entire world was changing. The knowledge that she could always make herself stronger, that the only limitation was her own ambition and drive, it was self-sustaining every time she made the slightest iota of progress in whatever she was setting her mind to. If she had this next accomplishment, made herself that much stronger, maybe this would be the thing that allowed her to feel safe with herself, and by herself… before she becomes all she has out there.
STATUS: Approved, Ruby, June 29
I was told I was dangerous. When I asked why, they said, "Because you don't need anyone." That's when I smiled.
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: X
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Advanced Casting
Replacing Prodigal DADA Learner
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
WC - 417/400
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Advanced Casting
Replacing Prodigal DADA Learner
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
WC - 417/400
Reducio
Hard-working was not typically a compliment one would give to Edwin Westbridge, and rightfully so. In spite of this, practical magic seemed to be almost second nature to the Gryffindor, rarely taking more than a couple of attempts to nail spells, and when he did cast, it seemed often that his attempts at the spell may have grander effects. Flinging target dummies to the ground, rather than simply back a few feet. A fire that seemed to naturally burn slightly longer than one may have expected. Wands he flung from his opponents grasp seem to fly further, ensuring they were not quickly found. Sparks summoned from his wands tip glew brighter than those around him.
The source of this additional power behind his spells wasn't entierly clear, especially given that it was coming from one who had seemingly so unmotivated by his studies. To many it may appear as if Edwin had a natural affinity for spell casting, a natural talent he was happy to ride, relying on that alone to pave his way through his classes. This assumption would hold merit, Edwin had plenty of talent for spell casting which he was more than aware of, and hardly displayed any humility of that fact.
However, that was not reflective of the whole truth. Whilst Edwin was an incredibly lazy student, rarely engaging in the theory side or anything non-practical, the Gryffindor held a genuine love for magic. The thrill he would receive from casting a spell successfully more than enough to spur the typically lazy Westbridge into something resembling hardwork. Outside of class hours, Edwin could often be found alone, stood opposite a training dummy, wand in hand. Any manner of spell would be slung at the dummy, Edwin astutely aware of any slight differences in his casting, watching for what would cause a greater effect. Many of the spells practiced were those he hoped to employ in his duels, wishing to find what he could use to ensure a quick end to any upcoming duel.
In truth, it was a combined natural affinity for spell casting paired with a genuine passion for the art of magic that has ensured that the Westbridges magic would have larger impacts than many of his peers, and made it appear as if his casting was advanced for his age. This hardwork, of course, was something that Edwin would not share with others, fearing that he may set higher expectations upon himself if others were aware that he actually cared.
Hard-working was not typically a compliment one would give to Edwin Westbridge, and rightfully so. In spite of this, practical magic seemed to be almost second nature to the Gryffindor, rarely taking more than a couple of attempts to nail spells, and when he did cast, it seemed often that his attempts at the spell may have grander effects. Flinging target dummies to the ground, rather than simply back a few feet. A fire that seemed to naturally burn slightly longer than one may have expected. Wands he flung from his opponents grasp seem to fly further, ensuring they were not quickly found. Sparks summoned from his wands tip glew brighter than those around him.
The source of this additional power behind his spells wasn't entierly clear, especially given that it was coming from one who had seemingly so unmotivated by his studies. To many it may appear as if Edwin had a natural affinity for spell casting, a natural talent he was happy to ride, relying on that alone to pave his way through his classes. This assumption would hold merit, Edwin had plenty of talent for spell casting which he was more than aware of, and hardly displayed any humility of that fact.
However, that was not reflective of the whole truth. Whilst Edwin was an incredibly lazy student, rarely engaging in the theory side or anything non-practical, the Gryffindor held a genuine love for magic. The thrill he would receive from casting a spell successfully more than enough to spur the typically lazy Westbridge into something resembling hardwork. Outside of class hours, Edwin could often be found alone, stood opposite a training dummy, wand in hand. Any manner of spell would be slung at the dummy, Edwin astutely aware of any slight differences in his casting, watching for what would cause a greater effect. Many of the spells practiced were those he hoped to employ in his duels, wishing to find what he could use to ensure a quick end to any upcoming duel.
In truth, it was a combined natural affinity for spell casting paired with a genuine passion for the art of magic that has ensured that the Westbridges magic would have larger impacts than many of his peers, and made it appear as if his casting was advanced for his age. This hardwork, of course, was something that Edwin would not share with others, fearing that he may set higher expectations upon himself if others were aware that he actually cared.
STATUS: Approved, Ruby, June 29
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: viewtopic.php?f=169&t=22077
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Statistically Relevant (+2 Accuracy) replacing Prodigal DaDa
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
NOTE: This application is to REMOVE Prodigal DaDa AND REPLACE it with Statistically Relevant as per this announcement: viewtopic.php?t=1733&start=780#p1247696
"He's a dweeby chocolate bar lip smacking nerd" - Evelynn Decipio
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Statistically Relevant (+2 Accuracy) replacing Prodigal DaDa
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
Note: The short story below is meant to show that Finnegan has rising early to get in extra practice, thereby accounting for the increase in skill, at the cost of neglecting his assignments and his friends.
---
The September air had that bite to it, the kind that made your cheeks sting and your breath fog up into little puffy clouds. Finn pulled his Gryffindor scarf tighter as he made his way down to the Quidditch pitch, sneakers squelching in the dewy grass. The castle loomed behind him, the twinkling windows indicating that some students had just barely woken up while he was already out there, in the morning light.
He hefted his broom over his shoulder and pushed any tempting thoughts of being in a warm and soft bed aside. Laying in bed wasn't how you became the greatest Quidditch player the school had ever seen. And this season, with the graduation of some of the other Quidditch stars, he had a real chance to shine which he wasn't about to let go to waste.
The pitch spread out before him, empty except for the morning mist that snaked around the base of the tall hoops. Finn had been coming out here every morning since term started a few weeks ago, practicing whenever his schedule allowed. Something had shifted over the summer, like a switch that hadn't been there before had been flicked on. His passes were sharper now, his aim deadly accurate. Maybe it was all those hours spent over the summer kicking a football around the local park, or maybe he'd just grown into himself a bit more. Either way, he had been managing goals from further and further out.
Finn kicked off from the ground, and immediately felt that familiar rush as the earth dropped away. Up here, everything made sense. The wind currents, the way his body needed to lean into turns, the precise angle required to thread a Quaffle through the hoops from a seemingly impossible approach; recently everything had just clicked into place.
He pulled the practice Quaffle out from under his arm and tossed it into the air, catching it neatly as he swooped past. The leather was cold and slightly damp, but his fingers found their grip automatically. Back home, he could juggle a football for hours without dropping it. This wasn't so different, just using his hands instead of his feet, oh and thirty feet up, moving at twice the speed.
He streaked toward the left goalpost, Quaffle tucked under his arm like a rugby ball. At the last second, he pulled up sharp and hurled it through the center hoop with a satisfying thunk. The ball ricocheted off the back of the goal and came sailing back toward him. Without thinking, he caught it one-handed, spun his broom in a tight barrel roll, and sent it flying through the right hoop.
Pity there wasn't a crowd to see.
No George with another flamboyant hat, no June, no Alma Stoll, and no Rebecca Lark.
He clenched his jaw at the memory of those people he'd once called friends while he retrieved the Quaffle for another run. Where were they now? Where had they gone? With a pang he thought of the Stephen King novel he'd read over the summer. Friends come in and out of your life like busboys in a restaurant, did you ever notice that?
Too fucking right.
With renewed determinatin he lined up for another shot, this time approaching from a wicked angle that would make most Chasers think twice. But then he wasn't most chasers, because most chasers were overeager first years who had never crashlanded and woken up in the hospital wing before. Being a good chaser didn't just require a fantastic aim, it required a particularly low sense of self-preservation too.
The Quaffle left his hand like it was magnetized to the goalpost, sailing through the hoop with room to spare. As he caught it on the rebound, Finn allowed himself a grin. Stuff his so-called friends. They were just people who got in the way, who had been keeping him down and telling him he ought to be doing his assignments instead of coming out here to perfect what he had always been good at.
Fourth year was going to be different. He could feel it in his bones, he could see it in accuracy of his throws, and he couldn't bloody wait for the new Quidditch season to get started.
Note: The short story below is meant to show that Finnegan has rising early to get in extra practice, thereby accounting for the increase in skill, at the cost of neglecting his assignments and his friends.
---
The September air had that bite to it, the kind that made your cheeks sting and your breath fog up into little puffy clouds. Finn pulled his Gryffindor scarf tighter as he made his way down to the Quidditch pitch, sneakers squelching in the dewy grass. The castle loomed behind him, the twinkling windows indicating that some students had just barely woken up while he was already out there, in the morning light.
He hefted his broom over his shoulder and pushed any tempting thoughts of being in a warm and soft bed aside. Laying in bed wasn't how you became the greatest Quidditch player the school had ever seen. And this season, with the graduation of some of the other Quidditch stars, he had a real chance to shine which he wasn't about to let go to waste.
The pitch spread out before him, empty except for the morning mist that snaked around the base of the tall hoops. Finn had been coming out here every morning since term started a few weeks ago, practicing whenever his schedule allowed. Something had shifted over the summer, like a switch that hadn't been there before had been flicked on. His passes were sharper now, his aim deadly accurate. Maybe it was all those hours spent over the summer kicking a football around the local park, or maybe he'd just grown into himself a bit more. Either way, he had been managing goals from further and further out.
Finn kicked off from the ground, and immediately felt that familiar rush as the earth dropped away. Up here, everything made sense. The wind currents, the way his body needed to lean into turns, the precise angle required to thread a Quaffle through the hoops from a seemingly impossible approach; recently everything had just clicked into place.
He pulled the practice Quaffle out from under his arm and tossed it into the air, catching it neatly as he swooped past. The leather was cold and slightly damp, but his fingers found their grip automatically. Back home, he could juggle a football for hours without dropping it. This wasn't so different, just using his hands instead of his feet, oh and thirty feet up, moving at twice the speed.
He streaked toward the left goalpost, Quaffle tucked under his arm like a rugby ball. At the last second, he pulled up sharp and hurled it through the center hoop with a satisfying thunk. The ball ricocheted off the back of the goal and came sailing back toward him. Without thinking, he caught it one-handed, spun his broom in a tight barrel roll, and sent it flying through the right hoop.
Pity there wasn't a crowd to see.
No George with another flamboyant hat, no June, no Alma Stoll, and no Rebecca Lark.
He clenched his jaw at the memory of those people he'd once called friends while he retrieved the Quaffle for another run. Where were they now? Where had they gone? With a pang he thought of the Stephen King novel he'd read over the summer. Friends come in and out of your life like busboys in a restaurant, did you ever notice that?
Too fucking right.
With renewed determinatin he lined up for another shot, this time approaching from a wicked angle that would make most Chasers think twice. But then he wasn't most chasers, because most chasers were overeager first years who had never crashlanded and woken up in the hospital wing before. Being a good chaser didn't just require a fantastic aim, it required a particularly low sense of self-preservation too.
The Quaffle left his hand like it was magnetized to the goalpost, sailing through the hoop with room to spare. As he caught it on the rebound, Finn allowed himself a grin. Stuff his so-called friends. They were just people who got in the way, who had been keeping him down and telling him he ought to be doing his assignments instead of coming out here to perfect what he had always been good at.
Fourth year was going to be different. He could feel it in his bones, he could see it in accuracy of his throws, and he couldn't bloody wait for the new Quidditch season to get started.
NOTE: This application is to REMOVE Prodigal DaDa AND REPLACE it with Statistically Relevant as per this announcement: viewtopic.php?t=1733&start=780#p1247696
STATUS: Approved - Koko, 30th June 2025
"He's a dweeby chocolate bar lip smacking nerd" - Evelynn Decipio
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: [x]
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Terrible Presence - replacing Prodigal DADA learner
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): 417 words
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Terrible Presence - replacing Prodigal DADA learner
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): 417 words
Reducio
There was just something… off about Anastasia. Some said that it was because of her father, the Vampire. And it was true, there were some unusual things due to the fact that she was a Dhampir — she couldn’t really go in the sun, she always looked sick, etc. But it didn’t explain everything. Her family was used to it, but new people she met always seemed a little awkward, feeling the coldness of her stance, the tired look in her eyes. She was grieving her father’s death, yes, but that also didn’t explain everything.
She loved being alone, she thrived in her solitude. An only child with two cousins. A homeschooled kid in a dark and cold manor. She liked the company of the stars and the midnight sky. Anastasia always made it clear when she didn’t want people to be around her, occasionally accepting a hug from family members.
And people didn’t usually like to be around her, thinking she was too silent, too closed-off, too much on the defensive, or not showing enough emotion. And she was okay with that, appreciating her own company to read, write and play piano. Some were worried about her year-long sick-looking face. Others didn’t care or thought it was weird, and stayed away.
To be honest, Anastasia was probably like this because of her education. Raised by her parents, only visited by her close family, she lever learned to socialise like most kids did. At six years old, she was fluent in three languages, but had never talked to anyone outside of her entourage. At ten years old, she wanted to see more than the Varney, the Campbell, or the Blackwood estates. At twelve years old, she didn’t want to talk to anyone, focusing on her classes to not spiral in her grief.
In social interactions, she’s often expressionless, with short and concise answers. Grey eyes clouded with fatigue, or sharp and telling you to — respectfully — fuck off. She doesn’t like to be around people. Maybe she simply doesn’t like people. Or maybe she just doesn’t know how to be around people, and Anastasia definitely doesn’t want to learn.
She loved psychology, seeing how one’s education affects their behaviour. And so, she knew there was something wrong with her. But she didn’t really care, preferring her own company to the one of strangers. She is a proud introvert, and antisocial. She isn’t afraid to show it, and she’s definitely not afraid of ending up alone.
She loved being alone, she thrived in her solitude. An only child with two cousins. A homeschooled kid in a dark and cold manor. She liked the company of the stars and the midnight sky. Anastasia always made it clear when she didn’t want people to be around her, occasionally accepting a hug from family members.
And people didn’t usually like to be around her, thinking she was too silent, too closed-off, too much on the defensive, or not showing enough emotion. And she was okay with that, appreciating her own company to read, write and play piano. Some were worried about her year-long sick-looking face. Others didn’t care or thought it was weird, and stayed away.
To be honest, Anastasia was probably like this because of her education. Raised by her parents, only visited by her close family, she lever learned to socialise like most kids did. At six years old, she was fluent in three languages, but had never talked to anyone outside of her entourage. At ten years old, she wanted to see more than the Varney, the Campbell, or the Blackwood estates. At twelve years old, she didn’t want to talk to anyone, focusing on her classes to not spiral in her grief.
In social interactions, she’s often expressionless, with short and concise answers. Grey eyes clouded with fatigue, or sharp and telling you to — respectfully — fuck off. She doesn’t like to be around people. Maybe she simply doesn’t like people. Or maybe she just doesn’t know how to be around people, and Anastasia definitely doesn’t want to learn.
She loved psychology, seeing how one’s education affects their behaviour. And so, she knew there was something wrong with her. But she didn’t really care, preferring her own company to the one of strangers. She is a proud introvert, and antisocial. She isn’t afraid to show it, and she’s definitely not afraid of ending up alone.
STATUS: Approved - Koko, 30th June 2025
| Anastasia Blackwood-Varney Mors irrumat omnia |
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: uwu
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Perfectionist, replacing Prodigal DADA.
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): 479/400
Coding to place within abilities。reducio:
#5F8575 | Moray Morcant
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Perfectionist, replacing Prodigal DADA.
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): 479/400
Reducio
Pyxis was not a fast learner. He failed at multiple aspects of schooling, and one of his biggest drawbacks was how much slower he took to grasp new concepts and information than his peers. This was a trait present from early youth, but in the muggle world, there was nothing a bit of money and nepotism couldn’t help with. Here in the wizarding world, Pyxis had no connections and thus, he was not able to feel comfortable sitting around and waiting for the good and easy things in life to fall in his lap.
So the lad tried to take school seriously for a while. He read ahead, especially if there was special interest in the topic, and stayed on top all of his assignments. And yet, if one would take a look as his examination results, they would assume that the snake had been doing no work at all to better his academic position. He continued to struggle at every avenue and could not find a study technique that worked for him. Don’t get him wrong, Pyxis tried them all. But none helped him escape the pits of Poors and Dreadfuls. Except in Flying. That was in the Troll territory of bad for him.
Some assistance came in the form of an off-hand comment he’d heard in the duelling club, between rounds of decimating metal dummies. Repetition, at least when it came to spell work, was key. Pyxis took the note. Instead of overwhelming his brain with new knowledge, he decided to elevate what he already knew. Hours turned into months of practicing his first year repertoire over and over again, and each time he stepped up to to the training pistes, something was always better - a tweak in the pronunciation of the incantation, a sharper flick as he became more comfortable with the wand movements, better concentration, clearer visualization. He always thought he was someone who thrived on new experiences rather than repeating an activity, but the success of this method pushed him to go back into his first year books and start from scratch with every spell he knew to ensure that they were just right.
This eventually bled into how Pyxis aimed to expand his repertoire. In duels, he would only attempt spells that he was sure his magic could produce. Despite them being more powerful, the lad would put the upper level spells to the side and rely on his trusty Knockback Jinx to get him through a duel. It wasn’t flashy, and it wasn’t going to win him any popularity contests, but he would rather play it safe than have an Incendio Duo set him on fire because he tried casting it without perfecting it first. And one day, he'd get a hand of those spells, but he'd have to drill them until he could do them in his sleep before that.
So the lad tried to take school seriously for a while. He read ahead, especially if there was special interest in the topic, and stayed on top all of his assignments. And yet, if one would take a look as his examination results, they would assume that the snake had been doing no work at all to better his academic position. He continued to struggle at every avenue and could not find a study technique that worked for him. Don’t get him wrong, Pyxis tried them all. But none helped him escape the pits of Poors and Dreadfuls. Except in Flying. That was in the Troll territory of bad for him.
Some assistance came in the form of an off-hand comment he’d heard in the duelling club, between rounds of decimating metal dummies. Repetition, at least when it came to spell work, was key. Pyxis took the note. Instead of overwhelming his brain with new knowledge, he decided to elevate what he already knew. Hours turned into months of practicing his first year repertoire over and over again, and each time he stepped up to to the training pistes, something was always better - a tweak in the pronunciation of the incantation, a sharper flick as he became more comfortable with the wand movements, better concentration, clearer visualization. He always thought he was someone who thrived on new experiences rather than repeating an activity, but the success of this method pushed him to go back into his first year books and start from scratch with every spell he knew to ensure that they were just right.
This eventually bled into how Pyxis aimed to expand his repertoire. In duels, he would only attempt spells that he was sure his magic could produce. Despite them being more powerful, the lad would put the upper level spells to the side and rely on his trusty Knockback Jinx to get him through a duel. It wasn’t flashy, and it wasn’t going to win him any popularity contests, but he would rather play it safe than have an Incendio Duo set him on fire because he tried casting it without perfecting it first. And one day, he'd get a hand of those spells, but he'd have to drill them until he could do them in his sleep before that.
Coding to place within abilities。reducio:
Reducio
Code: Select all
[right][b]current。[/b][/right][url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=1298277#p1298277]Perfectionist[/url]
[url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=1201478#p1201478]Statistically Relevant (+2 Arcane Power)[/url][right][b]former。[/b][/right][s][url=https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=744766#p744766]Prodigal DADA Learner[/url][/s]STATUS: Approved, Ruby, July 1
STA: 10 | EVA: 7 | STR: 3 | WIS: 12 | ARC: 10 | ACC: 9 |
Perfectionist | Stat Relevant | Spell Spread |
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: (Have you heard) Dealla Prince is now an adult
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Apparition
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
ReducioDestination. Determination. Deliberation.
Dee repeated the three words in her head, eyes closed, mentally going through all the motions necessary for Apparition - except for the actual Apparition itself. She'd thrown herself into the Apparition classes offered at Hogwarts during the last few months with a certain amount of enthusiasm, glad for the distraction they provided - and also enchanted by the idea of being able to pop up wherever she wanted at any time she so desired. (If there was also the added motivation of a long-distance relationship, and the fact that Dee had stared at maps showing the distance between Whitehaven and a certain city on the Swedish coast for long enough to convince herself she should be able to make that jump, well, we're not going to talk about that.) While she was aware enough of the risks, had listened to the repeated warnings by the instructor about the dangers of Apparition and why many adults preferred the broom or floopowder, there hadn't been a spell yet that the former Ravenclaw duelling captain hadn't been able to master, and this wasn't going to be the first.
The classes had been frustrating at first, since, as opposed to most spells, there weren't a simple wand movement and incantation she could follow. Spinning in place, trying to appear somewhere else with little to no substantive advice on how to perform this feat of magic had felt silly, pointless even. Her progress had become rapid only after her first, miserable, semi-successful attempt, once she'd finally experienced what was asked of her. If anyone asked her now to describe how to best learn how to apparate, she'd shrug helplessly and give them the same insufficient instructions she'd received herself: Visualise your destination, move with deliberation, and essentially shove yourself out of and into existence through pure determination. That was all there was to it, and all the advice she could give.
She opened her eyes when her name was called, and a few minutes later nodded her understanding of the location she was supposed to apparate to. Closed her eyes, and visualised the corner in Hogsmeade, where a second examiner would await her. Channeled her determination, turned with deliberation, and ceased to exist for just one, two uncomfortable seconds, before she blinked at the sun that had not been shining down on her just moments ago, about a kilometre and a half southeast of where she was now. After a moment it took her eyes to adjust, she examined first her body, then her surroundings - in one piece, exactly where she'd meant to go. Her eyes found a smiling face in front of her, a hand held out for her to shake. "Congratulations, Ms Prince. You passed."
456 words.
STATUS: Approved - Jessamine, 1 July 2025
"One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar."
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Bee
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Nonverbal Magic
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Nonverbal Magic
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
Through everything that she had gone through over the past two years, losing her Nan, being evicted from her home, residing with her muggle grandparents and hiding a central part of her character, Bea had felt the loss of magic. Of herself. So when the time had come that her Ma had left her father and taken her two daughters back to Scotland and the magical world, Bea vowed that she wouldn't be that weak again. She'd collect knowledge and skill enough that she would never have to worry about losing her magic. So she decided halfway through her fourth year that she'd gain the skill of nonverbal magic.
It had been a slow process, mainly beginning after the Easter break in her fourth year. Beatrice would choose some homework, mainly charms, that she had been practicing. It had only left the girl frustrated and angry. There was no progress at all. The feather wouldn't move. Her wand wouldn't light. She needed that incantation to go along with the wand movement.
That changed during the Summer between fourth and fifth year. She'd been invited to visit and stay with Nurse Sabo, no, Dusana. Just Dusana Sabo. Being a long forgotten relative, this connection had opened doors to things Beatrice didn't even know about. Books on spells, potions, herbs. Beasts that would scare you in the night. Dusana had a vast collection, and Beatrice used the time before she went to Summer Camp to attain it. But what Beatrice wanted more than all of this, was to perfect her nonverbal casting. She would mention it one day over breakfast to Dusana, and the older woman had nodded along. Although the witch herself wasn't practiced or skilled in nonverbal casting, she would help Beatrice practice.
They started off small, much like Beatrice had all of those weeks ago in her dormitory. With simple spells like lifting a feather with Wingardium Leviosa or lighting her wand with Lumos. It was a trialling experience, without much improvement at first. Dusana was always there though, to give encouragement. She always said that nothing happened overnight, especially not something as strong as nonverbal casting. After weeks of practice, Bea felt a little despair. She was never going to get it. But one sunny, warm afternoon in the potions room, with Dusana and Agata in the background bent over a cauldron it happened. Beatrice had been concentrating hard, thinking of the way she wanted her wand to light up, how she saw the light in her mind's eye. She'd flicked her wand, just as she had a million times. And viola. A light bloomed from the tip of her wand! She exclaimed, her concentration broken, and the light had gone out before Dusana and Agata could get a real good look. Doing the spell again, the light bloomed once more. From there it had been easy, the nonverbal component of casting becoming much simpler every time she tried it with a new spell.
496/400
It had been a slow process, mainly beginning after the Easter break in her fourth year. Beatrice would choose some homework, mainly charms, that she had been practicing. It had only left the girl frustrated and angry. There was no progress at all. The feather wouldn't move. Her wand wouldn't light. She needed that incantation to go along with the wand movement.
That changed during the Summer between fourth and fifth year. She'd been invited to visit and stay with Nurse Sabo, no, Dusana. Just Dusana Sabo. Being a long forgotten relative, this connection had opened doors to things Beatrice didn't even know about. Books on spells, potions, herbs. Beasts that would scare you in the night. Dusana had a vast collection, and Beatrice used the time before she went to Summer Camp to attain it. But what Beatrice wanted more than all of this, was to perfect her nonverbal casting. She would mention it one day over breakfast to Dusana, and the older woman had nodded along. Although the witch herself wasn't practiced or skilled in nonverbal casting, she would help Beatrice practice.
They started off small, much like Beatrice had all of those weeks ago in her dormitory. With simple spells like lifting a feather with Wingardium Leviosa or lighting her wand with Lumos. It was a trialling experience, without much improvement at first. Dusana was always there though, to give encouragement. She always said that nothing happened overnight, especially not something as strong as nonverbal casting. After weeks of practice, Bea felt a little despair. She was never going to get it. But one sunny, warm afternoon in the potions room, with Dusana and Agata in the background bent over a cauldron it happened. Beatrice had been concentrating hard, thinking of the way she wanted her wand to light up, how she saw the light in her mind's eye. She'd flicked her wand, just as she had a million times. And viola. A light bloomed from the tip of her wand! She exclaimed, her concentration broken, and the light had gone out before Dusana and Agata could get a real good look. Doing the spell again, the light bloomed once more. From there it had been easy, the nonverbal component of casting becoming much simpler every time she tried it with a new spell.
496/400
STATUS: Approved, Ruby, July 2
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread:Ency
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Evasive Manouevers
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
It didn't seem very fair to Ruth Fairchild that the kids of Ellesmere Heights would loiter around the bookstores of her neighbourhood, kicking at gravel and picking their noses. They don't even set a bloody foot into them! It was a troubling question that mulled her for quite a while. She didn't mind the occasional Bathwick Academy student passing by--having attended the school, she knew of the bookworms that roamed those halls. Ellesmere, on the other hand...no, they were filled with gangs and troublemakers. It wasn't the fact that they were blocking the entrance to the shop but the mere audacity that they'd ridicule and get nasty at her when she stepped out. Actually, they got nasty at almost any Bathwick Academy kid seen to be stepping out of the shop with books in their hands. Ruth had once asked the shopkeeper why she hadn't shooed them away, and the old lady had merely gave the girl a wiry smile and mumbled something along the lines of "They're just being kids."
Ruth stood across the street watching them, her hands clutched around an empty book bag. Nothing much had really changed since she had gone to Hogwarts, huh. She shook her head to herself, then walked across the street and headed for the door with her head held high. Ruth had dealt with worse than a bunch of losers. She had been to Hogwarts, a very much alive and breathing school. Ruth had escaped the wrath of ink spilling peeves and slipped onto the staircases just as they began to creak. Hell, she had even become a broom racer, someone who faced obstacles to manouever around all the time. And yet, there was that slight trickle of nervousness that poked at her chest, making her lips go dry. Ruth took in a shuddering breath and walked on.
The gang didn't seem to recognise her at her, and neither did she. There were a whole new wave of kids, the old ones long gone and presumably graduated. It was only then did Ruth realise how long it had been since she had come to this bookstore. Much to her relief, they glanced at her with little to no recognition, having not seen her on the neighbouring school grounds. Using this opportunity she averted her gaze and slipped into the shop, the sound of jazz dulled against the pounding of her heart. She had barely paid attention to what she had bought, and as she stepped out, only had her thoughts on scampering home.
It was at this unfortunate moment that Ruth caught a glimpse of a wild tuft of blonde hair and those piercing pale green eyes. Bollocks. He was still here.
Ruth made to turn her head away and walk, but his gaze lifted up to meet hers, and the familiarity was not lost on him. That sickly sneer slipped onto his face and he stepped closer, the gang parting slightly, momentarily confused by his reaction.
"Well well, haven't seen you in a long bit have we?" He began, and Ruth was partially surprised to hear the husk in his voice. It had been a while. Ruth replied with nothing and turned away, only to be blocked by the others. Really?
She sighed, then turned to address him with a cold stare. He laughed, "Speechless now, are ya? You used to yap like a darn pup once." He was telling the others this, and the look on their faces made him straighten his back to look taller. He regarded her bag with an amused look on his face. "Well then, let's see what you've got there." So swiftly he made for a measured grab, fingers splayed out and ready to grip and snatch.
But Ruth dodged away, stepping to the side in a split moment that caught him losing his balance, almost sending himself spiraling towards the lamp post. He tensed with surprise and a murmur trickled around them. "I can't believe you're still doing this. Grow up," she told him, slinging her bag on her back. Then she cockily waved a hand to bid him farewell.
He gritted his teeth and lunged for her again, and she side stepped once more, unable to stop the wide smile on her face. "Too slow," she blurted out. Oh gosh, really? She shouldn't have said that. The look on his face said everything. Time to run.
In a flurry of movement, Ruth turned and slipped past the wave of grasping hands, running as quick as she could. She wasn't really the fastest runner, and the scampering of boy howls and laughter were getting closer. He was in the lead, having been the oldest boy in the gang. The distance between the two of them was narrowing down.
Ruth spotted a narrow alleyway just then, to her left. She could also hear him, soon to be breathing down her neck. "Gotcha!" He cried as his hands brushed her sleeve just before she dodged into the alleyway, squeezing herself through it. Oh goodness. If she hadn't been able to evade, it might have been a lot worse.
STATUS: Approved, Ruby, July 2
ALMOST EVERYTHING 𝐓he sun rises for everyone, not just those who chase it. |
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread : here!
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for : Obnoxiously Strong
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it) :Reducio[620/400]Ever since Oliver could remember, he had been strong, stronger then the rest. Stronger then his elder brother who had just recently graduated. It was being proved now more so, Oliver standing outside of Aaron's door, arms crossed. Watching as his brother struggled to move a box full of memorabilia. Ignoring that sting in his heart, Oliver walked in and almost pushed Aaron off the box. "Move, let me." He grumbled under his breath. Picking up the box with ease. From the corner of his eyes, Oliver watched Aaron pick up a much lighter box, the word 'clothing' sprawled on the side in his messy handwriting.
He rolled his eyes and started moving through the house, carrying the box to storage, there wasn't much room where Aaron was moving to, his new place. It wasn't far from the house, just further into the main streets of Hogsmeade. Closer to his job, bartending at some tavern. A 'transitional job' he called it, until he could weasel his way into the ministry. Oliver set the box he was carrying down on one of the few tables in a spare room they didn't use. So it had been dubbed storage for the time being, like one would use a basement.
Oliver stood there for a second, and didn't even blink as Aaron ruffled his hair, or spoke to him in that tone. One only Aaron could use and not piss the younger Armani off. "damn Ollie, you didn't even break a sweat." He scoffed and pushed off the table with a huff. Of course he hadn't, that wasn't even close to the heaviest thing he'd had to lift on Aaron's behalf. Oliver didn't look at him as he pushed past his shoulder. Stopping only when Aaron push his hand on his own, spinning him around to look him in the eyes. Oliver could see how his brows were furrowed. "Hey, is something going on? Your not as snarky as you normally are? You can talk to me."
Damn him, Damn him for leaving. Even within walking distance. He shrugged, pushing emotions down like he always seamed to do. "I just don't see why you have to move." There he said it. Sure he spat it out with as much venom as a snake. Really fitting. Oliver crossed his arms, muscles flexing. He had said it. They were there moving Aaron's crap to a room no one thought off, while he was moving to a house away from his family. And why? Shouldn't Oliver be happy? After all Oliver then got to move into Aaron's room, larger then his current one.
Then, before Aaron could answer he turned on his heal, and almost ran out of the room. Holding back tears, he wouldn't. Not again. Wouldn't cry in front of someone. Oliver went back up to Aarons room, and stubbornly lifted the bare mattress off Aarons bed, his old bed. In his old room. And pushed it into the hall. "Ollie, come on. Let me help." Aaron said, knowing mattresses had some weight to them. He just kept pushing though, leaving it in the hall.
He didn't need help, not from Aaron. Not from any one, he was strong enough to lift it himself, he pushed his way to his room. Ignoring Aaron. Screw him for leaving Oliver alone. He lifted his mattress, the bed still having been made, pillows falling to the floor as he dragged that one out to. Pausing only to wipe at his eyes and nothing else. Nothing could stop him not even 'heavy' things, That weighed nothing to him compared to the weight of knowing that his older brother, his best friend, was growing up and leaving him behind.
STATUS: Approved - Jessamine, 2 July
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⊹ 𝖮𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖠𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂 ₊˚⊹ by one act, I have ruined everything |
Alan Dolus ~ Staff Sunday Crestmont ~ 𝗂𝖭𝖯𝖢 |
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Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Here!
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Evasive Maneuvers
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
WC: 404
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Evasive Maneuvers
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
WC: 404
Reducio
Ever since she was young, Alyss always found a fun time in exploring the outdoors, whether she was accompanied by her mother, father, both, or friends, she found people who would go for treks with her, scouting out the wild area surrounding Stornoway. She would fight others with swords made from long branches, as they constructed stories involving knights and dragons, requiring the magical sword(stick) to conquer all. While this wasn’t much different over the summer away from Hogwarts, Alyss found any scratches she gained though her sword fighting to be wounds she didn’t want to have, particularly after a certain day in which another girl, Alyss’ age, scratched Alyss with the stick, leaving a small gash on her hand.
Alyss didn't think much of it. After all, it was a simple scrape, and so she continued on as if nothing happened, not telling her parents who knew healing spells and instead acting normally. At some point, Alyss realized that usually cuts like that were healed by now, that they usually didn’t hurt every time she curled her hand into a fist. Finally, she told her parents. After a quick look over and a few sighs, they put some muggle paste on the wound and wrapped it up using muggle bandages, telling her that it would have to heal normally, to teach her a lesson about telling the adults in her life when she was hurt.
Of course, this is not what Alyss learned from the incident. Instead, she learned not to get hit by the sticks, and that if she was ever in harms way? Don’t let the weapon touch you. For the rest of the month, Alyss would convince slightly confused children to play swords with her, only for her to grab the shortest branch in sight as her weapon. Why? Because she wanted to practice not getting hit. At first, there were quite a few scratches. These were wrapped up in the muggle bandages that were in her bathroom before Alyss kept on going, determined to learn. And sooner rather than later, Alyss was winning their play fights, holding her twig in the air victoriously after her opponent lost their stick to a bush. She had figured out how to not get hit, a skill her parents perhaps didn’t anticipate teaching her. But if you ask Alyss? They deserved just as much credit as she did for her developed evasive maneuvers.
Alyss didn't think much of it. After all, it was a simple scrape, and so she continued on as if nothing happened, not telling her parents who knew healing spells and instead acting normally. At some point, Alyss realized that usually cuts like that were healed by now, that they usually didn’t hurt every time she curled her hand into a fist. Finally, she told her parents. After a quick look over and a few sighs, they put some muggle paste on the wound and wrapped it up using muggle bandages, telling her that it would have to heal normally, to teach her a lesson about telling the adults in her life when she was hurt.
Of course, this is not what Alyss learned from the incident. Instead, she learned not to get hit by the sticks, and that if she was ever in harms way? Don’t let the weapon touch you. For the rest of the month, Alyss would convince slightly confused children to play swords with her, only for her to grab the shortest branch in sight as her weapon. Why? Because she wanted to practice not getting hit. At first, there were quite a few scratches. These were wrapped up in the muggle bandages that were in her bathroom before Alyss kept on going, determined to learn. And sooner rather than later, Alyss was winning their play fights, holding her twig in the air victoriously after her opponent lost their stick to a bush. She had figured out how to not get hit, a skill her parents perhaps didn’t anticipate teaching her. But if you ask Alyss? They deserved just as much credit as she did for her developed evasive maneuvers.
STATUS: Approved - Jessamine, 2 July