Ability Applications
Encyclopedia: link.
Ability: evasive maneuvers [y3 slot please]
Reducio404 words.
"A bulwark;" Alphonse had been dubbed this title aplenty over the course of his three years at Castelobruxo, Ilvermorny, and now Hogwarts. The thing about 'bulwarks' is that they're known to be inmobile and unyeilding, yet the eldest of the Toussaint brood would be the exception to such a rule.
The evolution behind the infamous and facetious teen's newfangled agility wasn't a skill he had been born with, but a necessity fine-tuned and cultivated over time—and not for the brightest of ideals.
Following his expulsion from Castelobruxo for initiating a brawl and a later beatdown in Haiti the following summer, Alphonse began to travel with a sharper wit with his surroundings as he no longer felt completely safe in his own hometown after being jumped by his girlfriend's older brothers on the beaches of Jacmel.
And so began his descent into cultivating an agility—at first, Alphonse focused on reflexes by using a rubber ball to catch one-handedly on the rebound at a rapid pace, then came the reckless practice with his closest mates on the island and holding his arms behind his back. Rather than focusing on delivering vicious blows and staying rooted to the ground—with his fists no longer in use—the Toussaint boy was challenged to not only judge his opponents for subtle twitches or sharp movements, but dodge to avoid getting swung at.
After his mother had forbidden him from further endangering himself for equal parts hysterics among friends and skill betterment, Alphonse replayed his experiences with his friends and enemies alike in his mind. Oftentimes as the boy practiced his one-handed catches with the ball in his room, the Haitian gauged what could have been performed better in addition to the hints presented within his opponent's body language that had gone unnoticed with his lack of keen eyes.
Refined reflexes could have saved the Toussaint boy from a world of hurt had Alphonse simply been more observant and mobile, and with this ideaology in mind, the boy shifted his focus from martial combat to aerial sports. As both a former Beater for the Wampus Quidditch team of Ilvermorny, his strength had always been his strongsuit and best asset—and yet, the Toussaint teen oftentimes found himself longing for the time he once served as a Chaser for Castelobruxo's team. With his newfangled sense of heightened awareness, Alphonse found himself successfully dodging rogue bludgers with more finesse than ever before.
STATUS: Approved, Fire Davies, October 10th
Remedy.
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Jack Burnett
Applying for: Seventh Year Ability
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Spell Spread
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):Reducio(Word count: 482)It was Jack's last year at Hogwarts and he had finally managed to get on the Slytherin Dueling Team, the Viridian Vipers, with Hanako Tone, his dormmate. He had been told by Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood several years back that they thought he would make a good duelist; presumably, Jack assumed, because he was skilled at Charms after teaching himself so many Charms spells and staying ahead of the class. Many dueling spells seemed to be those learned in Charms, so being ahead of his class and even his year by learning certain spells before any of his peers gave him a huge advantage in dueling.
Unfortunately, Jack hadn't been able to make the team from the waiting list until his very last year, so any advantage he had regarding learning spells ahead of his peers no longer really applied. Even if he had taught himself spells outside of the school's curriculum, he knew they probably wouldn't be allowed in official duels sanctioned by the school. However, that didn't mean he was completely without any other advantages that might have made him a strong duelist. Being an especially strong perfectionist meant his failures at spells were kept to a minimum, for example. And for advanced magic techniques Jack discovered that were used in dueling like Spell Spread, being able to avoid failed spells and backfires was especially beneficial.
Spell Spread, he had heard from Hanako Tone, was especially coveted as a mastered technique in dueling because not only could you attack one target, you could attack multiple. When duels were performed in pairs, attacking both opponents was ideal. So Jack, upon being admitted to the Viridian Vipers dueling team at last, decided to take up the challenge of teaching himself how to attack multiple targets with grander spells that had a greater effect range. He did enjoy showing off quite a bit, after all, especially when it involved demonstrating his intelligence. As a seventh year, too, he felt particularly inclined to show everyone his potential and exactly what he was capable of. Now that he had joined the Slytherin Dueling Team as one of its very few seventh years - the oldest and most experienced students in the school - he was not about to let them regret welcoming him onto the team.
Aside from Spell Spread being a fantastic way to show off his skills and wow others, Jack had discovered it was also extremely useful both in and out of duels. To be able to use not just one but any spell in so grand a fashion that he could affect multiple targets if he so chose sounded extremely appealing. Thus, as Jack tended to do once he set his mind to something, he doubled down and studied all he could about the technique until he had mastered it completely. He wasn't about to let any dueling partner of his down.
STATUS: Approved, Silas, October 11
PC: Jack Burnett | iNPC: Ginyami Midorimori
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: xName of Ability that you Are Applying for: Pefectionist I (year 1 slot)
Describe why this fits your character:
Reducio
It seemed almost stereotypical -- a girl like Ara developing a high standard for things. A crazy rich Asian kid having a few problems in the head wasn't an unpopular trope. She has always carried the weight of expectation on her shoulders—whether real or imagined. Ara cannot separate herself from that burden, nor does she wish to.
The first time Ara held her wand, the world felt… loud.
Every swish, every incantation around her in that crowded classroom cracked like thunder in her ears. Classmates shouted their spells as if volume alone could force the magic into shape. Sparks flew. Feathers burned. A chair exploded.
Ara stood in the middle of it all -- silent. Still. Watching.
She raised her wand, but she didn’t move it. Not yet.
She refused to stand too carefree, she refused to stop practicing till splinters of wood from her wand seeped into the skin of her hand. She wasn’t doing it for praise. She was doing it because imperfection made her skin crawl. A spell mispronounced, cast too early, too hastily -- it was all like a discordant note in a symphony that reverberated until it reached her heart. She stayed there, silent and still, watching the whole scene. Observed how sound tangled with movement, how one sloppy vowel could unravel everything.
For some people, mistakes were good things--they learned from them. Ara, however, called them fractures. She had had her share of fractures. Not only among the living but also in the planning process and even in those moments that seemed so reliable.
So she practiced. Not in a loud way. Not in a spectacular way like some of her roommates did. She stayed on after classes, much after she and everyone else had said their goodbyes and the halls were empty, to go through every single action repeatedly until it got ingrained in her body.
People flinched when spells backfired. Ara never let them.
She would rather take an extra breath, lose a second, than risk that jagged, humiliating sting of magical backlash. She would not let heresay syllables pick her out, and instead conversed softly and clearly. She never just did it. She did it with precision. Every single movement was like a stroke of a brush by a painter who is fully aware that one stray line can kill the whole canvas.
Because perfection isn’t about being flawless, she thought as she practiced alone by the lake one chilly evening, the reflection of her wandlight steady on the water’s surface. It’s about refusing to let carelessness decide your fate.
Others may find beauty in spontaneity. She finds beauty in mastery.
She raised her wand again. Another spell. Another breath.
Not rushed. Not reckless.
Perfect.
451 WORDS
STATUS: Approved, Silas, October 11Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Pefectionist II (year 4 slot)
Describe why this fits your character:
Reducio
Oh look at that, another spell gone wrong -- not hers, of course.
Fourth year had been… tolerable. The novelty of Hogwarts had long worn off, and so had the patience for people who still thought waving their wands harder would make their spells more effective. Ara had seen enough singed sleeves and melted cauldrons to know that enthusiasm was a poor substitute for control.
Control -- that was everything.
By now, Ara’s spells didn’t backfire. They didn’t even wobble. Her wand didn’t shake; her tone didn’t falter. She had spent three years sanding down every imperfection until her magic obeyed as naturally as breathing. But lately, that wasn’t enough.
Maybe it was arrogance. Or maybe it was hunger -- that quiet, gnawing need to not just do something right, but to do it beautifully.
Dueling wasn't the most "out there" kind of sport. It wasn't like Quidditch where athleticism was a good broom was quite enough for someone to sustain themselves. No. Being a duelist usually meant that you were chasing perfection -- to have perfect casting and aim. Ara learned that over the past 2 years.
The previous season went kind of shit -- mainly because they were matched up against way older years thanks to a certain bullyable senior citizen. She missed. So. Many. Times.
She wasn’t doing it to prove she was the best. Not to them, not to anyone. She did it because her mind demanded order in a world that constantly frayed at the edges. Because there was a satisfaction in knowing that when her wand moved, it moved exactly the way she wanted.
For her, dueling wasn’t about flash or pride or proving something. It was about precision -- the quiet, perfect kind that made everything else seem loud and clumsy. There was a strange satisfaction in watching spells meet mid-air, in knowing exactly where hers would land. She didn’t duel for the applause, or the glory, or even for the win. She did it because it was an art form -- and she refused to perform it sloppily.
You could tell who practiced discipline and who practiced luck. The ones who shouted incantations without breathing, the ones who flicked their wands like they were stirring soup -- they were the ones who ended up on the ground, wondering why their spells backfired. Ara had seen it too many times. She didn’t have to think twice before she found the flaw. Wrong timing. Misaligned stance. Breath too fast. Focus too wide.
Perfection wasn’t a goal anymore -- it was habit. She’d earned her scars in duels where she’d mispronounced charms, her hair half-scorched from spells gone wrong. Those moments had taught her what fear of failure really felt like. Not fear of losing -- fear of imperfection. Fear of losing the clean line between control and chaos.
474 WORDS
STATUS: Approved, Silas, October 11
| sta • 10 | eva • 9 | str • 7 SHOP wis • 9 | arc • 9 | acc • 10 |
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Natasha's Ency
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Prodigal Potions Learner
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Prodigal Potions Learner
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
A 2-year old Natasha had loved playing with her doll-sized kitchen from the moment she was gifted it. She would sit for hours to end, making pretend tea, cakes, and what not. As she grew older, she would always help her mother in baking cakes and cookies, though at age 5, admittedly, most of her 'help' was licking the bowl clean. When she was 8,she once instinctively added a few ingredients into her mother's soup, and received a scolding, but when the family tried it at dinner, they all fell in love with it and admitted it was better that the usual soup, and apologized to Natasha. Another time, when her mother was making apple pie, she had told her mother to " add only 2 tablespoons of cinnamon, it will taste better." Lo and Behold, she was right. Once when her mother couldn't find her recipe book, Natasha recited 3 recipes nearly word to word with the exact measurements, impressing everyone in the vicinity. Natasha loved mixing together ingredients and experimenting with new food items, and absolutely loved baking anything. She would bake almost every weekend at home, one week it would be cookies, the next it would be muffins, and then she'd make fresh homemade bread. They year before coming to Hogwarts, she had cooked dinner once every week, sometimes pasta, sometimes khichadi (An Indian dish), and many new things, and it always ended with the kitchen smelling heavenly. After getting her Hogwarts letter, she was extremely excited for DADA, but when she realized that there was a subject involving ingredients, mixing, and recipe's, she instantly made potions her new favorite subject. When they went to Diagon Alley for the first time, she fell in love with two shops- A small, cute bookstore, and the Apothecary. She had spent the better part of 2 hours in the apothecary, and only left because the smell was getting to her mother's head, and she insisted they leave. At the bookstore, half of all the books she bought were about potions, and she had vowed to ensure her cauldron was always squeaky clean. When she had seen the potions professor for the first time in the great hall for the welcoming feast, she had to admit it, she was slightly scared of him, and thought that perhaps she should focus more on DADA, but the second her first potions lesson started, she fell in love with the class, and she loved the professor's teaching style, even if it was a bit intimidating. When she received her first ever potions homework back, she was happy, but not all that surprised at the large O on top, A perfect score.
Word Count: 447 words
Word Count: 447 words
STATUS: Approved, Fire Davies, October 12th
Ability Applications
STATISTICALLY RELEVANT (+2 WIS)
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Apparate
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Statistically Relevant
Describe why this fits your character:
ReducioAt 5 years old Evpraksiya was made to understand that she was different from others.WC; 799/400
Nadezhda had sat her down in the drawing room, the echoes of French architecture decorating the walls in ostentatious gold as mismatched green looks stared into the ones of the framed oil painting scrutinizing her. Then, it seemed to find her lacking, lacking what, she couldn’t tell you. It prickled at Evpraksiya, though Nadezhda’s gentle hand on her head brought her attention back to the women before the girl could become querulous.
“What you begin with is no matter,” She’d said, combing Evprakisya’s cascading hair into a neat bun, “But we aren’t normal people, and we can’t afford to be simple. So you’ll work twice as hard to get half as far and it’ll all be worth it in the end.”
She pulled back, smiling at her handiwork, doll-like and silent.
“You won’t let me down, won’t you?”
Now, at 12 years of age, The Vinogradova sat at her usual table near the tall dusty windows where the sunlight poured in from, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air and her own hair in a way she knew turned the champagne blond gold.
From where she sat, the Vinogradova could observe almost the entire study hall. A group of Ravenclaws debating over a Transfiguration theorem near a precariously leaning stack of dusty tomes. Two Hufflepuffs exchanging whispered jokes over a shared book to her left. She marked a note beside one of their names: laughs before glancing over to confirm shared amusement—seeks affirmation before confidence(?). She drummed her fingers against the desk, tapping out Chopin's Aeolian Harp absentmindedly as she considered. That sounded right, the pattern was sound.
Her quill hovered above the filled page. It was a massive chart, across its columns ran words like ‘gesture, phrasing, pause length, subject deflection’. Each row bore the initials of her classmates, for the people she wasn’t familiar with, it was substituted with Hufflepuff-1 (H-1) or Ravenclaw-4 (R-4) instead. Was there something she missed…? Evprakisya glanced over at the duo of Hufflepuffs again to see them both immersed in the book, whispering to each other things she couldn’t make out from here.
Her attention shifted as an acquaintance from Elena's little bookclub entered the room, a Gryffindor, older, walking with a sort of unshakable ease—was that habit or confidence? Did it make a difference in appearance? Mismatched green eyes followed his gait and the slight tightening of his jaw when a Hufflepuff didn’t move aside quick enough. She’d once seen Armani make the same twitch once when he thought a half-blood had slighted him. Pride masked as composure was what Evpraksiya noted down.
“Still working?” he asked when he noticed her, glancing down at her parchment with faint amusement.
“Always,” she replied smoothly, sliding her notes slightly out of view and pulling a sheepish smile to the corner of her lips. “Understanding makes people easier to help.”
It was a harmless lie, and one she told so often that it sounded true, even to herself. He smiled, accepted it, and left her in peace.
As he turned away, Evpraksiya’s smile didn’t waver but she tilted her head, letting her mind replay the interaction—his tone, her response, his reaction— she turned her words over in head. Perhaps she smiled too quickly? He seemed to respond well enough; there were no signs he’d noticed her deceit. But perhaps he was simply indulging her? Oh dear—she should have pretended to be startled, shouldn’t she? She was missing something, always a beat off.
Some perhaps would call Evpraksiya's practice neurotic, but she simply labelled it as the pursuit of wisdom and wondered idly if she should have been placed in Ravenclaw instead.
After all, what was wisdom, if not calculation?
Intuition, empathy, call it what you will, but at the end of the day it was *clarity*. Wisdom lay in noticing the twitch in a jaw before anger for it, catching the flicker of insecurity in a laugh before envy took root in their lungs. It was the flash of recognition in Sacramento eyes when someone lied to her face. If knowledge was knowing the truth then wisdom was understanding which ones were safe to utter aloud.
Everyone, she thought, interpreted the world through a different lens. She had just spent her childhood polishing her own until it shone. Perhaps one day she would understand the little idiosyncrasies that others navigated by instinct. But until that day came, the Slytherin would remain, in the hush of the library, beneath the glow of filtered light, Sacramento eyes gazing out across the room.
A soft sigh escaped her lips as she dipped her quill into the inkpot once more. The page patiently waited as Evpraksiya began anew.EVPRAKSIYA VINOGRADOVASTATUS: Approved, Fire Davies, October 12th
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❝The devil's voice is sweet to hear❞ | xxx STA 7 │ EVA 10 │ STR 0 │ WIS 8 │ ARC 5 │ ACC 10 LOVELY CREATURE |
Ability Applications
link to your encyclopedia thread: harlan's ency
name of ability that you are applying for: evasive maneuvers (y ii) | (wc: 402)
describe why this fits your character:Reduciowhat started as a brilliant display of tenacity and ambition ended in wounded pride, body, and spirit. an ejection at the end of your first year laid the foundation of this newfound agility and desire to move without being seen. it's a filthy habit, to pay attention to all of your surroundings but staying nimble often felt like the difference between social life and death when it came to hogwarts.
it's disgusting at how the ending of a whirlwind first year fluttering of emotions and puppy love made you feel the need to stay light on your feet.
the entire second year of homeschooling had you deciding to learn and focus on staying light on your feet. you focus on watching dueling matches, various quidditch games, and keep yourself light with the help of your grandfather's weekly practice where he would sling bludgers, spells, or other improvised objects to keep you ready for when the time came for you to rejoin the public wizarding school systems (hogwarts, or otherwise).
you borrow your grandfather's broomstick and spend some time in the skies of German morning and evenings to help clear your head. Your grandmother says the alone time will be nice, you spend all of your days together with them two and these spare moments to just be and exist help in your grieving of the life that you thought you were going to live and focusing on how to continue forward.
the more time you spend with your grandparents, the more your ability to move quietly and remain evasive develops more and more. it's in your grandfather's heavy steps as he barges himself to the restroom and you slip through the small spaces within the home to avoid collision, the way your nana's spells may backfire and you're quick enough to dip under the table, and how your wizard sense flares when things feel like they're about to go awry and how you've become accustomed to helping your grandparent's to avoid any potions or charms going awry.
you can't help that this is now a budding component of your personality. it started with the trauma of a first year whirlwind romance, it added onto itself more by being with your grandparents, and now your gaze is consistent and subconsciously looking to keep yourself safe, prepared, and ready for a world aiming to swallow you whole because you won't be caught slacking twice.
STATUS: Approved, Anthonie, 14/10/25
Last edited by Anthonie Engelbrecht on 14 Oct 2025, 00:40, edited 1 time in total.
Reason: Approval
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: viewtopic.php?f=169&t=41443
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Nonverbal (Ability 5)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Link to your encyclopedia thread: viewtopic.php?f=169&t=41443
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Wandless (Ability 6)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Link to Encylopedia: viewtopic.php?f=169&t=41443
Name of Ability: Prodigal Charms
Why this fits your character:
You've gotta break some eggs to make an omlette, something something.
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Nonverbal (Ability 5)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
Elmo was still in school like a normal dork. His back and shoulders ached from constantly being slammed into the walls just to feed the malicious joy that his bullies enjoyed and embraced. One morning, as it had happened multiple times in the past, but one morning he felt he needed to take action. To figure out the best way to handle a situation, without needing to even speak. To save his own life in the case he might be drowning. He got dragged into the bathroom and shoved into a stall, his head forced into the porcelain toilet bowl and held under.
Every time Elmo would catch a break, he would try to cast a spell, but before ever finishing the incantation, he was shoved back into the water. He had enough of this. He needed to take action. Reporting bullies was such a dumb thing to do, because if they found out that you ratted them out, your life was guaranteed to be worse.
So, while he stayed in his dorm room casting spells at night, just for practice, he began focusing on not speaking at all. With that, it meant that he was going to be mute. He was going to put in effort to try and cast spells without even needing to say the incantation. It would be horrible to have to go on with his life like it is now if he ran the risk of being unable to defend himself.
Elmo figured the spell he’d practice with would be the eyeglass repairing charm. It was not his pair of glasses, but rather the boy that stayed in the bed on his right side. The incantation was Oculus Reparo, but again, this was not really something he needed to utilize. Not if he was going to train himself to cast spells without a voice.
To use his brain.
He cracked the frame, hearing a loud snap, and smiled softly. Elmo placed the broken eyeglasses on the bed and pulled out his wand. The wand movement was quite simple, it was just a tap on the frame. In his mind he said the incantation, but not verbally. As he tapped the glasses as he would normally, he concentrated and focused and tried to ensure that the spell’s effect was to take place exactly how he visualized.
And the glasses fixed themselves. It was almost as if he didn’t break the frame. Elmo wanted to try again with another spell, this one being the sneezing hex.
Again, it wasn’t spoken verbally, but the sneezing hex (steleus) was directed towards the boy of whom the glasses belonged to. He made the wand movement of a downward swipe with a flick towards the boy and concentrated hard. And the glorious sound of sneezing began.
He could definitely use this to outsmart his bullies, right? Well, the next problem was to be able to cast without a wand, could this be something he could do?
Every time Elmo would catch a break, he would try to cast a spell, but before ever finishing the incantation, he was shoved back into the water. He had enough of this. He needed to take action. Reporting bullies was such a dumb thing to do, because if they found out that you ratted them out, your life was guaranteed to be worse.
So, while he stayed in his dorm room casting spells at night, just for practice, he began focusing on not speaking at all. With that, it meant that he was going to be mute. He was going to put in effort to try and cast spells without even needing to say the incantation. It would be horrible to have to go on with his life like it is now if he ran the risk of being unable to defend himself.
Elmo figured the spell he’d practice with would be the eyeglass repairing charm. It was not his pair of glasses, but rather the boy that stayed in the bed on his right side. The incantation was Oculus Reparo, but again, this was not really something he needed to utilize. Not if he was going to train himself to cast spells without a voice.
To use his brain.
He cracked the frame, hearing a loud snap, and smiled softly. Elmo placed the broken eyeglasses on the bed and pulled out his wand. The wand movement was quite simple, it was just a tap on the frame. In his mind he said the incantation, but not verbally. As he tapped the glasses as he would normally, he concentrated and focused and tried to ensure that the spell’s effect was to take place exactly how he visualized.
And the glasses fixed themselves. It was almost as if he didn’t break the frame. Elmo wanted to try again with another spell, this one being the sneezing hex.
Again, it wasn’t spoken verbally, but the sneezing hex (steleus) was directed towards the boy of whom the glasses belonged to. He made the wand movement of a downward swipe with a flick towards the boy and concentrated hard. And the glorious sound of sneezing began.
He could definitely use this to outsmart his bullies, right? Well, the next problem was to be able to cast without a wand, could this be something he could do?
Link to your encyclopedia thread: viewtopic.php?f=169&t=41443
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Wandless (Ability 6)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
AN: This application is written as if the Nonverbal App was approved.
He had his wand taken away and thrown out the window. God these stupid people! Did they not have a life to live? Why did he have to go so many flights down the stairs, out the courtyard and around the large building just to get his wand, then to reverse his tracks so he could make it to class on time? He hated them.
He wanted them terminated. Nothing could be worse than these maggot infested gremlins.
When class was over, he made his way to the abandoned lavatory and locked himself into a stall. He just needed to do what he did last time, given that he was able to cast a spell without speaking, he could maybe put in some effort into casting without a wand!
Okay, sure, he was going to try. He put his wand in his back pocket and used his pointer finger on the right hand as if his hand were the wand. He was going to try casting the bubble producing charm. If it went right, well. He concentrated as hard as he possibly could, trying to ensure that he could envision what was to come out. A deep breath, and he spoke the incantation. “Bullarum Immortalem.” He pointed towards the stall door and again, another cooling breath as he continued pointing and finally, out of the tip of his pointer finger, out came bubbles that just bounced off of the stall door and rose to the ceiling, several of them streaming out like a barrage of tennis balls from a tennis ball machine.
It worked.
He would try again, do a different spell. But he would wait for someone to walk into the abandoned lavatory, which admittedly, took nearly thirty minutes, but when they walked in, he snapped his finger and concentrated on the victim to say the incantation, “Essesella.” He pictured the victim turning into a cushioned chair matching their plain t-shirt that they were wearing. As a result, a red armchair, which matched the color of their shirt, took their place. It looked so odd in the bathroom, an armchair being surrounded by toilets that may be busted and by passerbys leering and laughing.
Elmo being one of the passerbys as he walked out of the bathroom feeling like he had learned how to cast without even needing a wand!
He had his wand taken away and thrown out the window. God these stupid people! Did they not have a life to live? Why did he have to go so many flights down the stairs, out the courtyard and around the large building just to get his wand, then to reverse his tracks so he could make it to class on time? He hated them.
He wanted them terminated. Nothing could be worse than these maggot infested gremlins.
When class was over, he made his way to the abandoned lavatory and locked himself into a stall. He just needed to do what he did last time, given that he was able to cast a spell without speaking, he could maybe put in some effort into casting without a wand!
Okay, sure, he was going to try. He put his wand in his back pocket and used his pointer finger on the right hand as if his hand were the wand. He was going to try casting the bubble producing charm. If it went right, well. He concentrated as hard as he possibly could, trying to ensure that he could envision what was to come out. A deep breath, and he spoke the incantation. “Bullarum Immortalem.” He pointed towards the stall door and again, another cooling breath as he continued pointing and finally, out of the tip of his pointer finger, out came bubbles that just bounced off of the stall door and rose to the ceiling, several of them streaming out like a barrage of tennis balls from a tennis ball machine.
It worked.
He would try again, do a different spell. But he would wait for someone to walk into the abandoned lavatory, which admittedly, took nearly thirty minutes, but when they walked in, he snapped his finger and concentrated on the victim to say the incantation, “Essesella.” He pictured the victim turning into a cushioned chair matching their plain t-shirt that they were wearing. As a result, a red armchair, which matched the color of their shirt, took their place. It looked so odd in the bathroom, an armchair being surrounded by toilets that may be busted and by passerbys leering and laughing.
Elmo being one of the passerbys as he walked out of the bathroom feeling like he had learned how to cast without even needing a wand!
Link to Encylopedia: viewtopic.php?f=169&t=41443
Name of Ability: Prodigal Charms
Why this fits your character:
Reducio
As Elmo was grieving his own mother’s death, which took place that previous year, he was now having to spend his final year at Hogwarts finding something to do, something to bide his time. Sure, he was never really great at Charms when he did the homework, the practices and all. He would constantly flop but granted his ability to perform the spells, have only improved with spending years practicing them and utilizing them. But he can’t say he spent as much time on Charms as he did History of Magic.
He needed to study. The NEWTs were right around the corner, and if he wanted a job outside of being a poser that cleaned toilets at Hogwarts, he would need to have a passing grade, to improve his knowledge in the general work of charms.
In the library, he grabbed a few books, especially the ones that were noted in his supply list, for Charms and cracked them open to read and read and read. He even annotated in the books, but the librarian did not need to know.
He read up on Reverte, which was the incantation to a spell that would reverse the position of an object. He also read up on the history of Wingardium Leviosa, just in case the dreaded NEWTs would come up with a hairbrained assassination attempt to get him to recall and fail. He needed to remember all the little details, so he wouldn’t be kicked to the curb!
He continued reading and reading and reading. He grabbed parchment and took notes, he also drew some of the wand movements for the spells. He was warned that he might need to perform the spells! Oh gosh, the trauma from doing that if he failed? No can do. He wrote down the exact pronunciations to the spells, their exact incantation, their effects and even small bits on their histories in quick two pointed bullet points.
To further his notes, he also added little subnotes about things that would even be considered known to increase the difficulty of certain spells, like the vanishing spell!
He felt that he had everything, and so he put the books back and took off carrying the parchment in his hands as he tried to repeat the notes to memory in a cycle, all the way to the next class, all the way to his dormitory, and soon enough, he noticed that his grades have improved from an Acceptable to an Outstanding, this must mean that he would pass the NEWT that was coming up.. correct? He could only hope.
He needed to study. The NEWTs were right around the corner, and if he wanted a job outside of being a poser that cleaned toilets at Hogwarts, he would need to have a passing grade, to improve his knowledge in the general work of charms.
In the library, he grabbed a few books, especially the ones that were noted in his supply list, for Charms and cracked them open to read and read and read. He even annotated in the books, but the librarian did not need to know.
He read up on Reverte, which was the incantation to a spell that would reverse the position of an object. He also read up on the history of Wingardium Leviosa, just in case the dreaded NEWTs would come up with a hairbrained assassination attempt to get him to recall and fail. He needed to remember all the little details, so he wouldn’t be kicked to the curb!
He continued reading and reading and reading. He grabbed parchment and took notes, he also drew some of the wand movements for the spells. He was warned that he might need to perform the spells! Oh gosh, the trauma from doing that if he failed? No can do. He wrote down the exact pronunciations to the spells, their exact incantation, their effects and even small bits on their histories in quick two pointed bullet points.
To further his notes, he also added little subnotes about things that would even be considered known to increase the difficulty of certain spells, like the vanishing spell!
He felt that he had everything, and so he put the books back and took off carrying the parchment in his hands as he tried to repeat the notes to memory in a cycle, all the way to the next class, all the way to his dormitory, and soon enough, he noticed that his grades have improved from an Acceptable to an Outstanding, this must mean that he would pass the NEWT that was coming up.. correct? He could only hope.
STATUS: Approved x3, Jake, October 14, 2025
You've gotta break some eggs to make an omlette, something something.
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Zion Davis
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: The Martial Artist
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: The Martial Artist
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
"Again," Thomas Davis said as his son fell down on his knees.
"How does this make sense?" the ten year old Zion groaned, as he got back on his feet. "If you don't want me fighting people, why you teaching me how to fight?"
Thomas Davis adjusted his boxing gloves as he straightened his shoulders, "Just because YOU don't fight, don't mean the fight will not come to you. We got crazy people, stupid people, not-sober people. Shit, maybe one day one of your homeboys might want to fight you. I'm not having my son be no victim when I have the ability to teach the skills of a fighter. Now guard up."
Zion rolled his eyes and gave a light sigh, his body language clearly showing he did not want to be there.
Thomas noticed the boys reluctance as he then spoke up in a calm but powerful voice. "You sure you're not going to regret it when your loved ones are in danger? If you choose to stop now, then you choose to take away the ability to protect them when they need you. Your mother. Your friends. Your lover. Your future kids. Hell, you wouldn't even be able to stop a kid from getting kidnapped right in of you. Would you leave them defenseless because you didn't want some discipline?"
A fire lit under Zion's eyes as the boy's boxing gloves came back up in the air guarding his head.
Thomas gave his son a proud smile.
Father and son touched gloves once more as the sparring match continued.
Thomas Davis grew up in a rough neighborhood in Detroit. As the eldest child of eight, with no father, he took it upon himself to be the man of the house and protect his family. He had learned the value of being a strong protective man, and he wanted his son to adopt those values.
Although at times, he didn't see eye-to-eye with his father, Zion was thankful for him. It was because of him he was able to stand his ground against bullies, never feared anyone, and was confident in his ability to defend himself.
He grew to enjoy martial arts. Next to the bench in his muggle home, he had a sandbag to practice boxing combos on. Even after Thomas stopped training him, Zion continued to hone his skills.
Of course, his mother's voice never left his head: "If I ever find out you a bully, Imma bully yo ass out my house."
417
"How does this make sense?" the ten year old Zion groaned, as he got back on his feet. "If you don't want me fighting people, why you teaching me how to fight?"
Thomas Davis adjusted his boxing gloves as he straightened his shoulders, "Just because YOU don't fight, don't mean the fight will not come to you. We got crazy people, stupid people, not-sober people. Shit, maybe one day one of your homeboys might want to fight you. I'm not having my son be no victim when I have the ability to teach the skills of a fighter. Now guard up."
Zion rolled his eyes and gave a light sigh, his body language clearly showing he did not want to be there.
Thomas noticed the boys reluctance as he then spoke up in a calm but powerful voice. "You sure you're not going to regret it when your loved ones are in danger? If you choose to stop now, then you choose to take away the ability to protect them when they need you. Your mother. Your friends. Your lover. Your future kids. Hell, you wouldn't even be able to stop a kid from getting kidnapped right in of you. Would you leave them defenseless because you didn't want some discipline?"
A fire lit under Zion's eyes as the boy's boxing gloves came back up in the air guarding his head.
Thomas gave his son a proud smile.
Father and son touched gloves once more as the sparring match continued.
Thomas Davis grew up in a rough neighborhood in Detroit. As the eldest child of eight, with no father, he took it upon himself to be the man of the house and protect his family. He had learned the value of being a strong protective man, and he wanted his son to adopt those values.
Although at times, he didn't see eye-to-eye with his father, Zion was thankful for him. It was because of him he was able to stand his ground against bullies, never feared anyone, and was confident in his ability to defend himself.
He grew to enjoy martial arts. Next to the bench in his muggle home, he had a sandbag to practice boxing combos on. Even after Thomas stopped training him, Zion continued to hone his skills.
Of course, his mother's voice never left his head: "If I ever find out you a bully, Imma bully yo ass out my house."
417
STATUS: Approved, Catalina, 19th of October
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread:
My Ency
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for:
Prodigal Flying Learner
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
WC - 628
Your potential is a fire waiting to ignite; fan it with purpose and watch your world light up.
- Sienna
My Ency
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for:
Prodigal Flying Learner
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
Her first time on a broom riding, Sienna showed a natural grace and instinctiveness that amazed the people around her. It was not the deliberate preciseness of an expert who had studied techniques or learned from a flight manual — it was something untamed, more old.
Every part of the sky appeared to be calling out to her. Perhaps she was the one who was bending the air to the wind’s liking, or maybe the wind was the one that was bending to her; no one can tell which was the case. With simple and moderate movements, the broom complemented her like it was a part of her body.
It was like she was getting the changes before the wind shifted and that she was understanding the air as a new language that only she and the sky spoke. A small wave of air brushing the tips of her fingers told her more than words could. Others were struggling to keep their balance, but Sienna was just leaning on the air and trusting it to catch her, and it always happened. The winds that were hitting and blowing against her friends turned into her colleagues, providing the lift to go up further and the energy to spin around into glowing circular movements.
Behind such scenes, the teachers share glances that the eyes can only catch. They have been in the situation before with different faculty members, fearless students that were taking their brooms just a little too far, and Sienna was totally different. In her flight, she did not have a struggle and no fighting between her and gravity.
She was barely born, and it was as if she and the sky had already established a very dark but still effective talk. While she was rising higher than the others, her coat flap tracing a comet's tail was observed by her peers in complete disbelief. Some of them were murmuring their astonishment while others were in envy. The girl herself made no signs of that. She was experiencing the thrill of movement and lost to it, making her out of reach. The sun was playing with her hair, and for that brief period of time, she reminded everyone of the sun that was about to come up — bright, strong, and untouchable.
She brought the broom and dived lowering swiftly. The air was going by her quickly, and she felt the wind ripping her cheeks. Everything around her was becoming pixelated with the combination of the earth, clouds, and horizon melding into one infinite stretch of color and feeling. She almost crashed on the ground, but instead, with power, she pushed upwards, grazing the grass. The ripple following her caused the audience to get a big gasp. Sienna’s response was not with defiance but with joy. It was the sound of an individual who had discovered her true place.
Her landing was so light that her boots hardly moved the dust. Basically, the instructor walks to her slowly, with amazement and doubt, his eyes big. “By what means did you achieve that?” he asks with a shaky voice of reverence.
Sienna is not saying anything but only gives a befitting smile, takes the hair strand off her face, and instead of giving the answer, she gives the credit. “Not me,” she replied, “The wind did.”
Only then do they all realize the truth — Sienna was not one keeping the skies under control. Instead, she was the one paying attention to them. While others saw flight as a challenge to overcome, she considered it a talk, an exchange of trust. The sky was one of the many things that she was able to count on, and the other way round, she didn’t want to break that promise ever.
Every part of the sky appeared to be calling out to her. Perhaps she was the one who was bending the air to the wind’s liking, or maybe the wind was the one that was bending to her; no one can tell which was the case. With simple and moderate movements, the broom complemented her like it was a part of her body.
It was like she was getting the changes before the wind shifted and that she was understanding the air as a new language that only she and the sky spoke. A small wave of air brushing the tips of her fingers told her more than words could. Others were struggling to keep their balance, but Sienna was just leaning on the air and trusting it to catch her, and it always happened. The winds that were hitting and blowing against her friends turned into her colleagues, providing the lift to go up further and the energy to spin around into glowing circular movements.
Behind such scenes, the teachers share glances that the eyes can only catch. They have been in the situation before with different faculty members, fearless students that were taking their brooms just a little too far, and Sienna was totally different. In her flight, she did not have a struggle and no fighting between her and gravity.
She was barely born, and it was as if she and the sky had already established a very dark but still effective talk. While she was rising higher than the others, her coat flap tracing a comet's tail was observed by her peers in complete disbelief. Some of them were murmuring their astonishment while others were in envy. The girl herself made no signs of that. She was experiencing the thrill of movement and lost to it, making her out of reach. The sun was playing with her hair, and for that brief period of time, she reminded everyone of the sun that was about to come up — bright, strong, and untouchable.
She brought the broom and dived lowering swiftly. The air was going by her quickly, and she felt the wind ripping her cheeks. Everything around her was becoming pixelated with the combination of the earth, clouds, and horizon melding into one infinite stretch of color and feeling. She almost crashed on the ground, but instead, with power, she pushed upwards, grazing the grass. The ripple following her caused the audience to get a big gasp. Sienna’s response was not with defiance but with joy. It was the sound of an individual who had discovered her true place.
Her landing was so light that her boots hardly moved the dust. Basically, the instructor walks to her slowly, with amazement and doubt, his eyes big. “By what means did you achieve that?” he asks with a shaky voice of reverence.
Sienna is not saying anything but only gives a befitting smile, takes the hair strand off her face, and instead of giving the answer, she gives the credit. “Not me,” she replied, “The wind did.”
Only then do they all realize the truth — Sienna was not one keeping the skies under control. Instead, she was the one paying attention to them. While others saw flight as a challenge to overcome, she considered it a talk, an exchange of trust. The sky was one of the many things that she was able to count on, and the other way round, she didn’t want to break that promise ever.
WC - 628
STATUS: Approved, Catalina, 19th of October
Your potential is a fire waiting to ignite; fan it with purpose and watch your world light up.
- Sienna
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Aisling's Ency!
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Non-Human Enthusiast {First Year Slot}
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Non-Human Enthusiast {First Year Slot}
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
It was late in the evening when Aisling was studying in the Library. Most of her peers had already turned in for the night. After all, it was almost curfew. That being said, Aisling couldn't have cared less. Right now, she was on a roll. And she had just finished reviewing her notes from her Herbology class. That was virtually it when it came to what she originally planned to study for the evening. Just as she was closing her textbook, she saw something that caught her eye: a book nook a bit further back that seemed hidden away. Aisling closed her book and went to investigate.
When she came closer to the nook, Aisling looked around. There wasn't any sign that noted that the area was restricted. And despite it being tucked away, it was well-lit. She shrugged. Looks like it's okay to get closer, she thought. Aisling crept into the nook. The first thing her eyes landed on was what looked to be a textbook on werewolves. This piqued her interest. Aisling had known a bit about some of the magical creatures, and most of it was in passing. After all, she was only a First Year, and First Years couldn't take the Care for Magical Creatures course, much to her chagrin. Aisling took out the textbook, eager to see what information the book had on such a foreboding, yet misunderstood, creature.
Aisling opened the textbook when she sat back down and flipped through it. She stopped on a chapter titled, "The Wild History of Werewolves" and began to read:
The first recorded case of lycanthropy was documented sometime during the medieval era. Tapestries from that time, which were discovered in the 1890s, depict a woman being attacked by a werewolf and chronicling her transformation into one. It is believed that the victim was of wizard descent, as the first Muggle to be transformed into a werewolf occurred in the summer of 1985. That summer, a Muggle girl named Scarlett Sparks was out with her friend, who was a witch. Because of Scarlett's interest in the ferocious beast, the girls decided to follow it. When the werewolf was alerted to their presence, it reacted by attacking her, though surprisingly spared her friend. At the time, the Muggle girl was declared dead from the attack. It wasn't until the next year that it was discovered that Scarlett had not succumbed to her injuries, but rather, she had evolved from the attack into a werewolf.
Reading that passage alone blew Aisling's mind. For the wizarding world and the Muggle world to be so incredibly different, she thought, I would've never guessed that they had some links. After she read through that chapter, she was curious about the history of some of the other magical creatures. How did dhampirs compare to full-on vampires? What kind of lives did goblins lead, if they even had similar ways of life at all? What exactly were veelas? Aisling was determined to read all that she could from this nook and hopefully, she would be able to answer those questions.
Word count: 515/400
When she came closer to the nook, Aisling looked around. There wasn't any sign that noted that the area was restricted. And despite it being tucked away, it was well-lit. She shrugged. Looks like it's okay to get closer, she thought. Aisling crept into the nook. The first thing her eyes landed on was what looked to be a textbook on werewolves. This piqued her interest. Aisling had known a bit about some of the magical creatures, and most of it was in passing. After all, she was only a First Year, and First Years couldn't take the Care for Magical Creatures course, much to her chagrin. Aisling took out the textbook, eager to see what information the book had on such a foreboding, yet misunderstood, creature.
Aisling opened the textbook when she sat back down and flipped through it. She stopped on a chapter titled, "The Wild History of Werewolves" and began to read:
The first recorded case of lycanthropy was documented sometime during the medieval era. Tapestries from that time, which were discovered in the 1890s, depict a woman being attacked by a werewolf and chronicling her transformation into one. It is believed that the victim was of wizard descent, as the first Muggle to be transformed into a werewolf occurred in the summer of 1985. That summer, a Muggle girl named Scarlett Sparks was out with her friend, who was a witch. Because of Scarlett's interest in the ferocious beast, the girls decided to follow it. When the werewolf was alerted to their presence, it reacted by attacking her, though surprisingly spared her friend. At the time, the Muggle girl was declared dead from the attack. It wasn't until the next year that it was discovered that Scarlett had not succumbed to her injuries, but rather, she had evolved from the attack into a werewolf.
Reading that passage alone blew Aisling's mind. For the wizarding world and the Muggle world to be so incredibly different, she thought, I would've never guessed that they had some links. After she read through that chapter, she was curious about the history of some of the other magical creatures. How did dhampirs compare to full-on vampires? What kind of lives did goblins lead, if they even had similar ways of life at all? What exactly were veelas? Aisling was determined to read all that she could from this nook and hopefully, she would be able to answer those questions.
Word count: 515/400
STATUS: Approved, Fire Davies, October 19th