Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Alex Thompson
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Prodigal Defense Against the Dark Arts Learner
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): WC: 528
"It is the quality of one's convictions that determines success, not the number of followers."
~Remus Lupin
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Prodigal Defense Against the Dark Arts Learner
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): WC: 528
Reducio
Alex's father was an Auror in the Head of Department of Magical Law and Enforcement. He grew up listening to stories narrated by his father of how he caught the dark wizards. One day, when Alex was 7, he asked his father, "Dad, if I want to be an Auror like you. What subjects do I have to focus on during my time in Hogwarts?" His father smiled, a proud smile. He said, "Alex, I suggest you focus on all the subjects dear. But, if you really wish to be an Auror, you need to be exceptional in Defense Against Dark Arts. Also, you require subjects like Charms, Potions and Transfiguration to become an Auror like me" Alex decided that he would become an Auror.
Alex bought a book related to the Defense Against Dark Arts and started to read and study it. He didn't have a wand to practice with, but he understood the various species present, how to defend himself in dangerous situations, and the possible ways he could defend himself. Alex's mom saw this passion in Alex and one day said to him, "Alex, sweetie, I love your passion. Grow a little more odd, and I will show you what the spells do myself. But promise me until you are 11, you won't perform any of the spells. " Alex promised her and went back to studying his book. He managed his time between playing with his friends and studying the book.
Soon, Alex's 10th birthday arrived. As Alex's mother promised, she showed him the disarming charm "Expelliarmus" by performing it on his father. A few days later, he heard his father saying, "I took some dark wizards to Azkaban today. The Dementors were about to attack a recruit. Poor boy, he got so scared that he couldn't conquer his Patronus. Fortunately, I was there to save him." Alex's ears prickled up. Dementors and Patronous, he had read those words in his books. He ran to his dad to ask, "You encountered Dementors?? How are they?? What do they do?? How did you cast a Patronus, Dad?? Can you show me?? Please?? Please?? Please??" Alex's dad gave in and said,"Ok!! Ok!! They are like hooded men who float in the air. They are dangerous. Very dangerous. They suck out all the happy moments. It's like he makes sure you only felt miserable rest of your whole life. They can be blocked by the Patronous charm. It's like all the positive moments in a spell. It's like this." Alex's dad pulled out his wand and said calmly,"Expecto Patronum" And suddenly a greyish blue light came out of Alex's dad's wand. It was like a hawk.
This incident cemented Alex's resolve to become an Auror. Alex studied harder and harder. By the time he bought the book of Defense Against the Dark Arts for his year, he knew about all the creatures in his curriculum. Like he knew the Imps were small and mischievous creatures that cause a lot of trouble, while Ghosts are spirits of dead wizards who were kind of afraid of death and everything else. He just wanted to use the spells now.
Alex bought a book related to the Defense Against Dark Arts and started to read and study it. He didn't have a wand to practice with, but he understood the various species present, how to defend himself in dangerous situations, and the possible ways he could defend himself. Alex's mom saw this passion in Alex and one day said to him, "Alex, sweetie, I love your passion. Grow a little more odd, and I will show you what the spells do myself. But promise me until you are 11, you won't perform any of the spells. " Alex promised her and went back to studying his book. He managed his time between playing with his friends and studying the book.
Soon, Alex's 10th birthday arrived. As Alex's mother promised, she showed him the disarming charm "Expelliarmus" by performing it on his father. A few days later, he heard his father saying, "I took some dark wizards to Azkaban today. The Dementors were about to attack a recruit. Poor boy, he got so scared that he couldn't conquer his Patronus. Fortunately, I was there to save him." Alex's ears prickled up. Dementors and Patronous, he had read those words in his books. He ran to his dad to ask, "You encountered Dementors?? How are they?? What do they do?? How did you cast a Patronus, Dad?? Can you show me?? Please?? Please?? Please??" Alex's dad gave in and said,"Ok!! Ok!! They are like hooded men who float in the air. They are dangerous. Very dangerous. They suck out all the happy moments. It's like he makes sure you only felt miserable rest of your whole life. They can be blocked by the Patronous charm. It's like all the positive moments in a spell. It's like this." Alex's dad pulled out his wand and said calmly,"Expecto Patronum" And suddenly a greyish blue light came out of Alex's dad's wand. It was like a hawk.
This incident cemented Alex's resolve to become an Auror. Alex studied harder and harder. By the time he bought the book of Defense Against the Dark Arts for his year, he knew about all the creatures in his curriculum. Like he knew the Imps were small and mischievous creatures that cause a lot of trouble, while Ghosts are spirits of dead wizards who were kind of afraid of death and everything else. He just wanted to use the spells now.
STATUS: Approved, Lawrence, 31st December
"It is the quality of one's convictions that determines success, not the number of followers."
~Remus Lupin
Ability Applications
Sixth Year Ability Application
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Boop
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Impartial
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
Thomas Baines no longer evaluated the world through the lens most did. Where others instinctively registered posture, expression, reputation, or aesthetic before anything else, the Ravenclaw has grown profoundly uninterested in all such considerations. This was not born of discipline or any sort of convoluted enlightenment. No, this was born purely of exhaustion. Somewhere between the end of his fourth year and the hollow trudge through his fifth, Thomas simply stopped caring how other people looked, how they presented themselves, or what impressions they tried to project. This was not a conscious decision; the effort required to parse appearances simply outweighed whatever value they might have once held. Appearances to Tom were no more than static cluttering an already unbearable existence.
At one point, the boy had been keenly aware of presentation; he understood the weight of a sharp uniform, the way presence alone could unsettle an opponent. He had one even curated his own image carefully, aware of how easily confidence and polish could influence perception. That awareness died alongside his ambition. As his disillusionment with the average human deepend, so too did his rejection of surface-level meaning. He stopped seeing people as alluring or impressive. Instead, to Thomas they were no more than obstacles, irritations, or irrelevancies. The polish others took such cre to maintain struck him as dishonest at best and insulting at worst. People were judged (if at all, given his apathy) solely by what they did, not what they appeared to be.
His emotional withdrawal fostered an innate distrust of outward signals. Thomas assumes beauty a distraction, posturing a lie. In his experience, appearance was too often used as a substitute for substance, a means of masking incompetence, cruelty, or intent. Attempts to sway him through charm or cultivated presence wash over him without purchase, water off a duck's back. He does not counter these efforts through any great willpower so much as through indifference. Tom cannot be affected by what he refuses to perceive as relevant. His own deteriorating appearance reinforces this detachment. The judgment of others means nothing to him, and in turn, he affords their appearances the same disregard. The world has proven itself shallow, unreliable, and ultimately disappointing; why should its surface trappings holy any authority over him?
This mindset has hardened into instinct. In moments of stress or confrontation, Tom's focus narrows--not fixating on expressions or physical presence. Instead, his attention locks onto the bare minimum required to endure the interaction. Thomas processes ations, words, and outcomes while filtering out aesthetic or performative elements entirely. Emotional manipulation through appearance fails because Thomas is not emotionally invested enough to be manipulated. Impartiality is not a shield for Tom so much as it is a vacancy where reaction ought to be. This impartial disposition is the natural consequence of his withdrawal from meaning itself. Appearances do not sway or unbalance him.
WC: 481/400
STATUS: Approved, Meiyu, 20th December
Evasive Maneuvers II // Wandmaker // Terrible Presence
STAMINA 7 // EVASION 21 // STRENGTH 1 // WISDOM 15 // ARCANE POWER 15 // ACCURACY 13
Hex: #1C4587
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: viewtopic.php?p=1451425#p1451425
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Perfectionist
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): WC 498
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Perfectionist
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): WC 498
Reducio
I have had a lot of time to myself, being raised in a house by a single mother. My life as a child was very quiet, so from an early age I began to read a lot of books and find activities to occupy my time. Martial arts, weight training, track and field sports were a way that I could be involved with other kids without having to actually be on a team, since I never did well on a team. Other kids didn't seem to have the same level of seriousness that I did; I guess I never really "played," but "performed." And I always wanted to perform as best as I could, that is why solo activities appealed to me.
At age six I became involved in martial arts. I began lessons in karate and tae-kwan-do and quickly developed and appreciation and understanding of the limits and capabilities of my body. I became obsessed with trying to be faster and more agile, always trying to push the limits of my abilities. I wanted to learn new techniques to improve my skill level. I would spend hours every day, practicing. Martial arts for me were not about how to harm, but how to better myself. Balance, awareness, speed and endurance were always my focus.
My physical well-being was not the only thing that I strove to improve. I spent much of my time reading books, mostly about history and science. The world around me is so fascinating, especially when you know there is magic. I love finding the line where science fails to explain things and how magic is the only answer. My uncles were always very keen to supply me with books about the magical world, and I would delve into them with vigor.
My uncles were also very keen to show me some of their skills as wizards. My uncle Chilwick is a proficient potion-maker, and I would sometimes watch him in his study brew potions. I could sit there silently and watch in awe as he would carefully add things to the cauldron or prepare some ingredient. He would carefully explain every step in detail; what he was doing, how he was doing it and why. I absorbed everything he did, and he would often quiz me to ensure that I retained it. I wasn't particularly interested in the potions being made, more in the process and how each step is important.
My uncle Brutus similarly loves to show off his wand-work in casting charms, jinxes, and other spells. Whenever we visited him, he would demonstrate some of the spells he used around his house. He would show me how important every gesture and enunciation of words were to proper spells. Attention to detail is vital in casting. I may not have been able to cast the spells, but I definitely had an appreciation of the little details that went into performing them properly.
I have had a lot of time to myself, being raised in a house by a single mother. My life as a child was very quiet, so from an early age I began to read a lot of books and find activities to occupy my time. Martial arts, weight training, track and field sports were a way that I could be involved with other kids without having to actually be on a team, since I never did well on a team. Other kids didn't seem to have the same level of seriousness that I did; I guess I never really "played," but "performed." And I always wanted to perform as best as I could, that is why solo activities appealed to me.
At age six I became involved in martial arts. I began lessons in karate and tae-kwan-do and quickly developed and appreciation and understanding of the limits and capabilities of my body. I became obsessed with trying to be faster and more agile, always trying to push the limits of my abilities. I wanted to learn new techniques to improve my skill level. I would spend hours every day, practicing. Martial arts for me were not about how to harm, but how to better myself. Balance, awareness, speed and endurance were always my focus.
My physical well-being was not the only thing that I strove to improve. I spent much of my time reading books, mostly about history and science. The world around me is so fascinating, especially when you know there is magic. I love finding the line where science fails to explain things and how magic is the only answer. My uncles were always very keen to supply me with books about the magical world, and I would delve into them with vigor.
My uncles were also very keen to show me some of their skills as wizards. My uncle Chilwick is a proficient potion-maker, and I would sometimes watch him in his study brew potions. I could sit there silently and watch in awe as he would carefully add things to the cauldron or prepare some ingredient. He would carefully explain every step in detail; what he was doing, how he was doing it and why. I absorbed everything he did, and he would often quiz me to ensure that I retained it. I wasn't particularly interested in the potions being made, more in the process and how each step is important.
My uncle Brutus similarly loves to show off his wand-work in casting charms, jinxes, and other spells. Whenever we visited him, he would demonstrate some of the spells he used around his house. He would show me how important every gesture and enunciation of words were to proper spells. Attention to detail is vital in casting. I may not have been able to cast the spells, but I definitely had an appreciation of the little details that went into performing them properly.
STATUS: Pending, Catalina, 22nd of December
-As per our site's lore magic and muggle technology do not mix well, with Jason's mother being muggle born and working at a bank I assume the family live as muggle, thus Jason's uncle cannot cast spells in their house, please clarify more in your application as to what the situation with magic is
STATUS: Approved, Catalina, 24th of December
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Here
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Comprehend languages (Mermish)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Janice Pyles
Stamina : 5 | Evasion : 6 | Strength : 4 | Wisdom : 7 | ArcPower : 7 | Accuracy : 6
...
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Comprehend languages (Mermish)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
I used to be a loner as a kid. I have never thought of having friends though. I've never got used to being with them anyway. I stayed home most of the time. I helped my mother with house works and sometimes listen to my father rambling about his job at the ministry of magic; he has really difficult tasks, he would say. But I liked it that way. On weekends, we usually went out fishing. There is a lake a kilometre away from home. It is close to us and far enough for muggles to never have heard of it-until now at least-which made it the perfect spot for a family of wizards who would like to spend some time alone.
I still remember one day of October, I was ten, we went fishing as we always do. And per usual, my mother would pack snack and swimsuits. But the difference was the weather. We never go out on rainy days, usually, but that time, I asked kindly and because mom told me I did a great job at home, she accepted my favour. I was really excited because I genuinely like the rainy season. Rainy days are my favourites.
We arrived at the lake and we got changed. Mom and I went further away into the lake as dad stayed where he thought he could get fishes, his favourite spot. The rain poured heavier as we swam and the water was cold, but I didn't want to go yet. Mom and dad took place under a tree and ate some sandwiches, watching over me. At some point, I held my breath and swam underwater. Looking up, it was truly wonderful.
I swam deeper, knowing I wouldn't be out of breath until long enough. Dad taught me ways to be under water even without magic when I was six. That's when I saw her. She took my hand but I didn't move just yet. It was cold and her grip was strong. I got lost inside her eyes. She was mesmerizing, beautiful and a thought occurred to me : since when are there mermaids in a lake? But I brushed it off when I felt my lungs were slowly giving up. I looked at her hand holding my wrist and I began to panic, swimming back up. I didn't move, though. I looked at her once again, and maybe she sensed the fear in me because she began to swim to the surface, bringing me up with her. And then she spoke. I didn't get it. But for some reason, I have never forgotten about it; the words she said lingered in me but I couldn't tell what they were.
I stumbled onto the muddy bank, gasping. The rain fell steadily, as if time hadn't moved at all. I looked at the water but she wasn't there anymore. I've never told my parent about this encounter because I didn't know how they would react; and I was growing curious. I had to see her again. But when we came back the weeks that followed, I haven't seen her again.
I haven't ever thought a mermaid would save me. What did I do to deserve that? And maybe if I speak her language, I could understand what she said. Maybe it's an open door for me to venture into her world and understand the real reason behind her kindness.
I still remember one day of October, I was ten, we went fishing as we always do. And per usual, my mother would pack snack and swimsuits. But the difference was the weather. We never go out on rainy days, usually, but that time, I asked kindly and because mom told me I did a great job at home, she accepted my favour. I was really excited because I genuinely like the rainy season. Rainy days are my favourites.
We arrived at the lake and we got changed. Mom and I went further away into the lake as dad stayed where he thought he could get fishes, his favourite spot. The rain poured heavier as we swam and the water was cold, but I didn't want to go yet. Mom and dad took place under a tree and ate some sandwiches, watching over me. At some point, I held my breath and swam underwater. Looking up, it was truly wonderful.
I swam deeper, knowing I wouldn't be out of breath until long enough. Dad taught me ways to be under water even without magic when I was six. That's when I saw her. She took my hand but I didn't move just yet. It was cold and her grip was strong. I got lost inside her eyes. She was mesmerizing, beautiful and a thought occurred to me : since when are there mermaids in a lake? But I brushed it off when I felt my lungs were slowly giving up. I looked at her hand holding my wrist and I began to panic, swimming back up. I didn't move, though. I looked at her once again, and maybe she sensed the fear in me because she began to swim to the surface, bringing me up with her. And then she spoke. I didn't get it. But for some reason, I have never forgotten about it; the words she said lingered in me but I couldn't tell what they were.
I stumbled onto the muddy bank, gasping. The rain fell steadily, as if time hadn't moved at all. I looked at the water but she wasn't there anymore. I've never told my parent about this encounter because I didn't know how they would react; and I was growing curious. I had to see her again. But when we came back the weeks that followed, I haven't seen her again.
I haven't ever thought a mermaid would save me. What did I do to deserve that? And maybe if I speak her language, I could understand what she said. Maybe it's an open door for me to venture into her world and understand the real reason behind her kindness.
WC : 569
STATUS: Pending, Catalina, 24th of December
-Please add in more details on how Janice is able to comprehend mermish, not just why she would want to learn more about it, this will be about how she was able to find information about it, hearing it from someone who knows or reading many books on the topic, things like that.
Follow-up Lear (Jan 18)
Please make the requested clarification on your app so we can approve your application. Your application is at risk for closure on Jan 24 if there is no edit.
STATUS: Closed, Elena, 30th of January
No edits have been made in 30 days.
Janice Pyles
Stamina : 5 | Evasion : 6 | Strength : 4 | Wisdom : 7 | ArcPower : 7 | Accuracy : 6
...
Ability Applications
Link: https://hogwarts.io/viewtopic.php?p=1454750#p1454750
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Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Healing Sage
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Describe why this fits your character:
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Healing Sage
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Describe why this fits your character:
Reducio
Denise was always very empathetic, growing up, especially after being made fun of since she was poor at wearing the same clothes, not showering often, and wearing worn out shoes. Her grandmother was always ill, so she always had a desire to help her grandmother get better. At primary school (before she got expelled), she first had Mrs. Higgins as her science teacher. Denise, who once hated science for how boring it was, fell in love with science, particularly Biology. She loved plants and even tried planting pumpkins through leftover pumpkin seeds her grandmother had and loved nurturing her small garden. One day, Mrs. Higgins spoke about how the local hospital needed help with having the sick children needing someone to play with and Denise was touched. She decided to volunteer to help kids at a nearby hospital and visited regularly, playing with the little kids so they don’t feel so lonely while they were ill, understanding it from her ill grandmother. Denise also helped with teh school garden, helping the dim petunias and lilies to grow into strong and beautiful flowers.
She was never very violent (well, maybe, except when she sets her bully’s clothes on fire through accidental magic) and after being expelled changed everything. Suddenly, all the kids in the hospital she used to play with saw her as violent and dangerous, and parents didn’t want Denise to play with their kids anymore. Denise decided to focus on her own center with her grandmother and realized that she had a knack for homemade remedies, cooking, and studied a bit of medicine and biology, even recognizing and understanding different medicines and why they work as they should (usually simple medicine like ibuprofen and different cough drops). One time, her grandmother got very sick and she was scared for her. Before deciding to get her medicine recommended by the doctor and hoping to see if it works, she cried and saw a glow around her grandmother that her grandmother didn’t notice. Suddenly, her grandmother was better. This happened a few more times, with her grandmother getting a stomach bug, a cold, and a flu and even when visiting Mrs. Higgins, who believed her to be innocent accidentally cured her broken bone, leaving Mrs. Higgins and her doctor are utterly confused and Denise stunned. Denise always wanted to continue to help her grandmother and everyone else from pain but could not place how it happened until a professor visited her home and explained the magical world.
She was never very violent (well, maybe, except when she sets her bully’s clothes on fire through accidental magic) and after being expelled changed everything. Suddenly, all the kids in the hospital she used to play with saw her as violent and dangerous, and parents didn’t want Denise to play with their kids anymore. Denise decided to focus on her own center with her grandmother and realized that she had a knack for homemade remedies, cooking, and studied a bit of medicine and biology, even recognizing and understanding different medicines and why they work as they should (usually simple medicine like ibuprofen and different cough drops). One time, her grandmother got very sick and she was scared for her. Before deciding to get her medicine recommended by the doctor and hoping to see if it works, she cried and saw a glow around her grandmother that her grandmother didn’t notice. Suddenly, her grandmother was better. This happened a few more times, with her grandmother getting a stomach bug, a cold, and a flu and even when visiting Mrs. Higgins, who believed her to be innocent accidentally cured her broken bone, leaving Mrs. Higgins and her doctor are utterly confused and Denise stunned. Denise always wanted to continue to help her grandmother and everyone else from pain but could not place how it happened until a professor visited her home and explained the magical world.
STATUS: Approved, Jake, 27th of December
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Here!
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Year 1 - Perfectionist I
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): WC: 442ReducioGrowing up, Akinyi had been overlooked. She simply wasn’t special, wasn’t interesting, was too… normal. So, surprise surprise, Akinyi worked her ass off as soon as she was recognized for the extraordinary power of magic. She could do magic? That was truly wild, something that she never would have even imagined in her young age. So her first year at Uagadou, Akinyi threw herself at every opportunity, every challenge, determined not only to conquer it, but to not fail.
Not failing sounds silly; isn’t that just succeeding? The problem with succeeding is that is masks the number of tries it took to achieve dreams, simply the end result. Not failing requires skill and precision. It requires not only accomplishing the goal, but also never quitting, never losing. That was the word Akinyi was determined to never hear ever again. She would never, ever lose again. Now that she had magic, the drive, and people that semi-liked her, she would never let herself lose again.
That was why the shine in her eye would brighten when others complimented her form, her memory. Those were things that had not come naturally to her, but things she’d practiced at relentlessly, in order to be as perfect as possible. Not quite without no mistakes—but those were ironed out immediately, under the careful and deliberate supervision of Akinyi’s own power. She was determined that upon returning home from this new magical school, she could speak to her mother with the confidence that she was perfect. Or at the very least, more perfect than not.
Before any class, she’d ask her seniors for their notes on the lessons. She’d spend every waking moment improving, ensuring that she would never be the boring or forgotten one ever again. Akinyi would make an impact, she just wasn’t sure how. As of her first year, she did all she could. Practicing incantations and wand movements until drowsiness, memorizing potions recipes, and studying theory in every class until it just came naturally to her. No matter how exhausted she was, Akinyi had the muscle movement nailed for so many basic charms, and she was muttering potions ingredients in her sleep. She wouldn’t let herself fail, even once, that year.
When she went home that summer, her mother would get stories of success, of hard work, and of her daughter’s strength. She was just as valuable as her brothers, working just as hard, and she was succeeding in ways they couldn’t.
That was why she accomplished so much in first year, got the highest grades possible. She’d become as close to perfect as possible. Or at least, closer than her brothers ever could.Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Year 2 - Perfectionist IISTATUS: Approved, Meiyu, January 1st.
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): WC: 423ReducioSecond year—the year that Akinyi was no longer the lowest, the youngest, the most inexperienced. She had one step up on the first years, meaning she could relax a little bit, right? Wrong. No, Akinyi remained far too focused on improving, getting better. She wouldn’t allow for imperfections, for mistakes. It simply wouldn’t do. So, she studied. She took notes during classes, rewrote the notes in her free time, and practiced, practiced, practiced.
Akinyi was incredibly determined to prove herself, after seeing the progress that many of her older classmates had made over the summer. Some bragged about tutors, others about summer sports. Akinyi had done none of that, simply returning home and spending time with her family. It hadn’t occurred to her that she may fall behind as a result; and that wouldn’t happen. Not on her watch.
This was why she continued to pour into her class work, constantly diligent. Whereas the former year she had nearly eliminated errors, this year she did. She would be flawless. She would learn languages when she could, in between the gaps. But otherwise, it was constant work at simply being as perfect as possible. It seemed that it had worked.
One night, she was working on what should be a simple potion recipe. The Black Fire Potion, one to render the drinker immune to fire. She was determined to accomplish the task, following the recipe to a T. She’d prepared the ingredients prior—the mint had been crushed into a paste, bursting mushrooms sliced, salamander blood measured, and wartcaps crushed. So she began the process. A teaspoon of the mint paste added, painstakingly added to the very last drop. The bursting mushrooms were next, before the stirring; 3 times, clockwise. Then, Akinyi waved her wand and waited.
Eyes remained on the caldron, for the entirety of the 10 minutes. As soon as the time was up, the heat went down and the salamander blood was added, before stirring counterclockwise, 8 times around. Then came the wartcap powder, just as the recipe dictated, and left it on low for another 20 seconds. She counted. It was then that she stirred the concoction 7 times, clockwise once more, before waving her wand and pouring into the prepared vials. It was complete, and it was perfection. Akinyi would show the successful brew to her Professor, eyes tired yet proud. She’d be able use this brew to not only prove her superior knowledge and attention to detail, but also the desire to being nothing less than the very best.Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Year 3 - Calming PresenceSTATUS: Approved, Meiyu, January 1st.
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): WC: 419ReducioFor much of Akinyi’s life, being the middle child meant being replaceable. The oldest was smart, the youngest was charismatic, and Akinyi was just…Akinyi. She would pat her older brother on the back when he didn’t get the very best grades, and try to make her younger brother smile when he felt like crying. It wasn’t until third year that Akinyi began to get better at consoling friends, at making others feel better. It hadn’t even been her intention to begin acting differently, simply to help her friend.
Her friend was crying, she’d just gotten an owl that her grandmother had passed, Akinyi wasn’t quite sure how to react, how to handle the tears. So she sat with her, rubbing her back and listening. It wasn’t anything large, no extravagant gift or loving speech given. Instead, she was simply a constant presence, there with her friend. She’d talk softly to her, telling her about her day. Akinyi went through their schedule for tomorrow, and guided her through breathing exercises. In for four, hold for two, out for four. Feel better? Throughout the month or so following that owl, Akinyi remained by her side, a steady and reliable companion. Eventually, simply being around Akinyi seemed to put the friend at ease. She cited it to her constant support during a tough time. Akinyi agreed, just happy to have been a help. She was pleased that they had made it through the worst of it, and that she’d played such a big part in the process of recovery.
Following that, Akinyi carried herself differently. Her posture was more upright, her tone of voice less rushed and stressed about assignments and more smooth, confident, and matter-a-fact. There was no doubt, no need to question her. She would think things through and recite the best option, became a reliable person and source of logic. Her charms were steady, her potions impeccable, and her attention focused on any issue at hand. Her simply being in the room with others seemed to make them feel more at ease, more comfortable. Perhaps it was the way she carried herself, her tone of voice, or her consistency with her academic abilities.
Soon, her opinions were regarded with respect, her presence in a room regarded with contentment. She was calming, a person who seemed to soothe strong reactions and emotions with logic and tranquility, a calm aura seeming to exude from her demeanor. Perhaps she wasn’t the most outspoken person, she encouraged success simply with her being there.Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Year 4 - Comprehend Languages (Veela)STATUS: Approved, Meiyu, January 1st.
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): WC: 516ReducioIn her fourth year, Akinyi was doing her more or less usual trade. During free periods, she would meet with fellow students, and they would teach her languages in exchange for a wide variety of offerings, occasionally other language lessons, completed homework assignments, or sometimes help with a particular task. She would oblige, happy to learn the ins and outs of another language, often selecting various books to read on the subject as well, simply to speed along the learning process.
At some point, Akinyi managed to befriend a part-Veela. His mother had been a full-Veela, his father a wizard. He’d learned Veela from his mother, and had heard about Akinyi’s mission to learn what seemed to be every language she came across. So they made a trade. He would teach her Veela, both comprehension and speaking. In return, she would tutor him in the brewing of potions, without telling anyone. This arrangement had worked well, with Akinyi meeting him whenever possible during free periods, learning the basics of Veela and him the meticulousness required for excellence when it came to potions.
Akinyi progressed quickly, and him less so. She began instructing his movements at the cauldron in Veela, in order to practice and to ensure he understood the information quickly. That seemed to be working, despite her initial slip-ups and his confusion during those stray words or pauses as she grasped for the proper pronunciation. She would read any books available on the subject, and would stand in the mirror reciting the words, to make certain that her lips were curving in the proper shape and tongue hitting the roof of her mouth only when it was supposed to. Despite a few bumps in the road (who knew “mix” was so close to “scream”), Akinyi became somewhat proficient, able to communicate in simple sentences and get meaning across without scrambling for the proper words or grammatical structure.
Her biggest challenge was her counterparts lack of growth, meaning he was less open to teaching her while his grades maintained their same low number. Eventually, the boy quit on her, leaving Akinyi to discover the complexities on conjugation and past and future tenses on her own. Thankfully, he’d gone over many of these basics with her prior, and had some hand written notes from him on these difficulties. Any books on the Veela language became her best friend, and she studied for months during the school year, pushing aside friendly interactions and extra credit to pursue this language. Finally, over the summer following graduation onto the next year, she’d been paired up with a quill-pal, and was stoked to discover their Veela ancestry whilst they exchanged details about themselves.
Akinyi promptly began writing all her letters in Veela, and was pleased to receive minor feedback regarding her writing, with the happy news that many of her conjugations had been entirely correct. Overjoyed, upon their meeting in person, they corresponded in Veela nearly the entire time, with few mistakes on Akinyi’s part. Her constant studying and enthusiasm regarding the melodic language had paid off; she could speak Veela.Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Year 5 - CharmerSTATUS: Approved, Meiyu, January 1st.
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): WC: 424ReducioAkinyi had truly grown up. She had just turned 16, and something seemed… different. She stood up taller, carried herself with confidence, and laughed without thought of judgement. She was passionate, not necessarily loud, but certainly proud. Akinyi had become someone that she was proud of being. Her knowledge was vast, her eyes shining with happiness. She was comfortable with who she was, in her body, mind, and spirit. It was everything that so many teenagers struggled with, Akinyi included when she was slightly younger. But her fifth year was the year that she stopped worrying about judgements of others, and instead simply did.
As a fifth year, she had already made her decision to remain a general student, and it had been the right decision. While at Uagadou, she had never quite been the romantic, and instead focused on her studies and fun activities with friends. However, that didn’t mean Akinyi didn’t like to have a good time.
As she grew older, she had begun to pay much more attention to her appearance and mannerisms. She began dressing in ways that followed the fashion trends, selecting outfits prior to going to bed for the next day. She would pay attention to her skincare and hair products, saving up to select the best products for her appearance and growth. She would style her hair in the mirror, and begin to smile at herself, both to practice her smile and because she was genuinely happy with herself. She would smile at people in the halls, giggle behind her hand at something a classmate said, maybe touch their arm for a few seconds longer than necessary.
She would watch their gaze linger on her own for a few moments, smile in the way she practiced in the mirror. It felt great, to be distracting. She had attention, something she so rarely received while at home. Akinyi would banter back and forth with them, exchanging witty retorts rather than completing the class work in front of them. She would charm them, all the while reveling in the attention that it gave her. Was it healthy? No, perhaps not. But her carefully crafted appearance and demeanor were simply doing the work they were made for.
Akinyi had grown up with a single mom, a genius older brother, and a charming younger brother. Although she was now magical, that didn’t change that growing up, she just wasn’t…interesting. Finally grabbing attention, because of her looks and attitude, accomplished a little need in her that longed for the validation of others.Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Year 6 - Wandless MagicSTATUS: Approved, Meiyu, January 1st.
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): WC: 409ReducioOne of the things Uagadou was known for, by foreigners, was there supposed knack for wandless magic. There were rumors of them simply never learning how to cast with a wand, so that by the time they were capable casters, all they had to do was snap, or point whilst saying the incantation, and the spell would manifest, and the magic would work just as well as it would have with a wand.
Now, Akinyi hadn’t necessarily had experience with these rumors. She was a muggle-born, having come from a household in which her mother parented herself and her two brothers. She’d never had any interaction with magic until her first instance of magic, and later her dream message of admission into Uagadou. However, Akinyi wasn’t the kind of person to walk around, ignorant of the world around her. She had conversed with her professors, and with her fellow students. That’s where she heard about this tale of wandless magic. And she, of course, was intrigued. As Akinyi always did, she began with research. She asked questions of her professor of Kutumia Uchawi, who had taught the vast majority of her spellwork. She questioned how this was possible, how to even get to this level.
In response, she was offered the possibility to learn. Akinyi, of course, took this opportunity. She was already a consistently spectacular spellcaster — even if it wasn’t necessarily her best or favorite subject, she excelled at it. Which was why she was for the challenge. First she just practiced casting more often, being found with a wand firmly in hand casting at the dummies and targets that were at Uagadou. Soon she began attempting to cast with just a flick of the wrist, snapping, or another hand movement. This didn’t work.
Next, she tried drawing the wand movement in the air with her hand, experimenting to see if this would allow for the same spell to be casts. It worked. She had done it, she’d casted without her wand. She used this method again, and again, usually under the supervision her professor, occasionally without. Due to her solid foundation of spell-casting, the spells never backfired on her. She found that this casting was certainly more difficult—but nothing she couldn’t handle. Eventually building her way into a simple flick of her wrist paired with the proper incantation was working. Every single time, without fail.
She could cast nearly perfect spells—without the support of her wand.Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Year 7 - Nonverbal MagicSTATUS: Approved, Meiyu, January 1st.
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it): WC: 465ReducioThe extension of her successful wandless casting was of course to take everything a step further, and learn to cast without the incantations as well. At Uagadou, it was a hidden expectation that students with the proper potential learn to cast wandlessly. However, to do so without the proper incantation nor wand, was slightly more difficult. Akinyi refused to let that deter her.
Year seven. The final year at Uagadou, the year in which she was going to make her mark or go out trying. By “go out” she of course meant graduate—there was no way Akinyi would ever fail to graduate. Over her dead body. Naturally, Akinyi was already confident in her casting skills, she had some seriously sound foundations. So, she decided to jump into it. If she wanted it hard enough, it would work. Right? She asked her friend to cast fulgari and mimblewimble at her—and then she sat there attempting to cast. Was she trying to force the revelation? Yes, absolutely. Did it work? Also yes.
After being stuck for about 20 minutes without being able to cast even the counter-charm, Akinyi was tired. Maybe she really couldn’t do this, maybe it was impossible. Maybe she should just give up. Thankfully, Akinyi would never do that. If tying herself up and muting herself didn’t already show you just how crazy she could be, let me remind you: she is a seventh year, studying for her exams, and decided to use a free period to attempt to learn one of the more difficult spell-casting skills, without at all being interested in doing much spell casting once out of school.
Akinyi tried many strategies, none of which seemed to work very well. One of which was to say the incantation of the spell in her mind, while also imagining the shape of the wand movement. This failed. She also imagined the impact the spell would have, the feeling of her mouth being able to say proper words again. Unfortunately, nope. She tried to mouth the incantation, with failure. She tried flicking her wrist through the bonds while incoherent words came from her mouth. Surprise, surprise, this failed. Then, she tried what ended up succeeding, something this is rather ironic now that you consider her profession nowadays. She tried wanting.
There’s more to it than that, of course. One of the most important aspects of runes is the intention of the wix inscribing the runes—and this aspect was important for spell-casting as well. She did more than just want. She thought about why, she thought about the importance of this to her, the foundation of the spell. “Finite Incantatem.” Akinyi chanted mentally, focusing on the strength being the words, and the magic of her own mind. Mimblewimble disappeared, and soon after, fulgari did too.STATUS: Approved, Meiyu, January 1st.
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Ency
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Statistically Relevant (For Accuracy)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Iris Marlowe, Griffindor
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Statistically Relevant (For Accuracy)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
Reducio
Iris is brutal in her determination to prove herself, not through loud declarations or reckless displays, but through quiet, undeniable results. She was raised in a household defined by strict rules, rigid expectations, and an absolute intolerance for mistakes. There was no room for error, no space for excuses, and no patience for failure. From a young age, Iris learned that perfection was not optional—it was expected. As a result, she holds herself to impossibly high standards, often higher than anyone else would dare impose on her.
Much of her free time is spent honing her accuracy, both magically and physically. She is meticulous in her practice, repeating spells and movements until they are painfully precise. Iris does not aim merely to be competent; she strives to be frighteningly accurate. Every angle, every motion, every outcome is carefully considered and refined. While others may train broadly, she narrows her focus, believing that true power lies in control rather than excess.
This obsession with precision is aided by her natural emotional detachment. Even when she tries to be more expressive or involved, there is a distance she cannot entirely close. Rather than seeing this as a flaw, Iris has learned to use it as an advantage. Her lack of emotional reaction allows her to shut out distractions completely, zeroing in on her target with unwavering concentration. In moments of chaos, she remains steady, focused only on execution.
In her family, power was only respected if it was contained. Recklessness and chaos were treated as weakness, not bravery. You were expected to act with intent, to be decisive, and above all, to be right the first time. Iris internalized these lessons deeply. She learned to value restraint over spectacle and accuracy over speed, dedicating herself to mastering control in all its forms.
To many, Iris appears dull, distant, or even indifferent. She does little to correct this perception. Her quiet demeanor and apparent lack of urgency often lead others to underestimate her, a mistake she rarely makes herself. She never rushes her spells or her actions, because she has absolute confidence in her preparation. When Iris strikes—whether magically or on the Quidditch pitch—it is precise, deliberate, and devastating, leaving no doubt that every move was calculated long before it was made.
Much of her free time is spent honing her accuracy, both magically and physically. She is meticulous in her practice, repeating spells and movements until they are painfully precise. Iris does not aim merely to be competent; she strives to be frighteningly accurate. Every angle, every motion, every outcome is carefully considered and refined. While others may train broadly, she narrows her focus, believing that true power lies in control rather than excess.
This obsession with precision is aided by her natural emotional detachment. Even when she tries to be more expressive or involved, there is a distance she cannot entirely close. Rather than seeing this as a flaw, Iris has learned to use it as an advantage. Her lack of emotional reaction allows her to shut out distractions completely, zeroing in on her target with unwavering concentration. In moments of chaos, she remains steady, focused only on execution.
In her family, power was only respected if it was contained. Recklessness and chaos were treated as weakness, not bravery. You were expected to act with intent, to be decisive, and above all, to be right the first time. Iris internalized these lessons deeply. She learned to value restraint over spectacle and accuracy over speed, dedicating herself to mastering control in all its forms.
To many, Iris appears dull, distant, or even indifferent. She does little to correct this perception. Her quiet demeanor and apparent lack of urgency often lead others to underestimate her, a mistake she rarely makes herself. She never rushes her spells or her actions, because she has absolute confidence in her preparation. When Iris strikes—whether magically or on the Quidditch pitch—it is precise, deliberate, and devastating, leaving no doubt that every move was calculated long before it was made.
STATUS: Denied, Meiyu, January 1st.
Your ability application returns as 100% AI. Please re-write this in your own words.
Iris Marlowe, Griffindor
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: viewtopic.php?p=1454384#p1454384
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Statistically Relevant (For Accuracy)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
She has terrible habit one where she feels as though she always has to strive to prove herself. She is always wanting to go that extra mile to prove to her family and even dead relatives that she is worthy of her family name. This would be no exception. For her accuracy it would be no surprise to herself or anyone really that she would put in the extra time to go above and beyond what she's supposed to. She wants to go above and beyond what is expected for a first year. So she does just this. This just goes to show how committed she is to going above and beyond to prove herself.
Iris is the type to spend most of her time on something if she's determined enough. She would determined enough to spend more free time on this than on homework. She would get so good, so accurate that there would be no room for mistakes, or at least that would be her goal. She will stop at nothing to show this and prove it.
Her emotional detachment helps her to so utterly devote herself to the ability. She used to see this as a flaw, but over time is learning how to use it as a strength. She can use it to train longer than most. She isn't attached or feels fatigue as quickly due to simply not allowing herself to.
Iris has excessive pride in herself and this carries to casting spells and her accuracy on most things she does. Every time she strives for perfection so there is never room for error or for anyone to get in her way. She can and will get accurate casts or anything right the first time. She will also do this to prove herself to her family because above all else, even if she doesn't show it that's all she truly cares about.
And finally Iris does little to rush her spells or anything else she needs to be accurate for. She doesn't have a need to. She has found that when she goes that extra step to pronounce the words just a touch more correct or when she does that extra little flick of her wand to cast the correct spell it makes all the difference in her improved accuracy. She's learned the proper incantations for spells, the proper way to hold her wand to ensure accuracy and even how to stand when casting spells. That paired with her confidence makes for her incredible accuracy and she wouldn't have it any other way.
Iris Marlowe, Griffindor
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Statistically Relevant (For Accuracy)
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
She has terrible habit one where she feels as though she always has to strive to prove herself. She is always wanting to go that extra mile to prove to her family and even dead relatives that she is worthy of her family name. This would be no exception. For her accuracy it would be no surprise to herself or anyone really that she would put in the extra time to go above and beyond what she's supposed to. She wants to go above and beyond what is expected for a first year. So she does just this. This just goes to show how committed she is to going above and beyond to prove herself.
Iris is the type to spend most of her time on something if she's determined enough. She would determined enough to spend more free time on this than on homework. She would get so good, so accurate that there would be no room for mistakes, or at least that would be her goal. She will stop at nothing to show this and prove it.
Her emotional detachment helps her to so utterly devote herself to the ability. She used to see this as a flaw, but over time is learning how to use it as a strength. She can use it to train longer than most. She isn't attached or feels fatigue as quickly due to simply not allowing herself to.
Iris has excessive pride in herself and this carries to casting spells and her accuracy on most things she does. Every time she strives for perfection so there is never room for error or for anyone to get in her way. She can and will get accurate casts or anything right the first time. She will also do this to prove herself to her family because above all else, even if she doesn't show it that's all she truly cares about.
And finally Iris does little to rush her spells or anything else she needs to be accurate for. She doesn't have a need to. She has found that when she goes that extra step to pronounce the words just a touch more correct or when she does that extra little flick of her wand to cast the correct spell it makes all the difference in her improved accuracy. She's learned the proper incantations for spells, the proper way to hold her wand to ensure accuracy and even how to stand when casting spells. That paired with her confidence makes for her incredible accuracy and she wouldn't have it any other way.
Pending, 2nd of January 2026 - Oonagh
Your ability application falls short in words as it only has 379 words instead of the required 400. Furthermore the first paragraph is not usable as it breaks the fourth wall / not in role play format. As the instructions state you should write why the ability suits your character and not why you the player wants it. The talk about the statistical benefit of the ability is not suitable in this aspect.
Approved, 2nd of January, 2026 - Oonagh
Iris Marlowe, Griffindor
Ability Applications
Link to encyclopedia: Abracadabra.
Name of ability: Cat's Grace — year 1 ability.
Describe why this fits your character: 552/400
Describe why this fits your character: 534/400
Describe why this fits your character: 551/400
Describe why this fits your character: 524/400
Describe why this fits your character: 1605/400
Describe why this fits your character: 767/400
Describe why this fits your character: 770/400
Describe why this fits your character: 1082/400
Name of ability: Cat's Grace — year 1 ability.
Describe why this fits your character: 552/400
Reducio
Children should be seen and not heard.
It was a sentiment Kitty was more than familiar with. She was a pretty girl with pretty ambitions: win the pageant, score the solo, do well. The most talking that involved would be on stage, giving pretty answers; the most sound permitted being pretty music during rehearsal. Why waste breath on things un-pretty — on requests to leave early, on complaints about her dress, on all things considered whining? She learned quickly it would bring absolutely no results. Her parents would only scold and remind her that it was important to show herself, even if she was tired, that the dress was sparkly and would be sure to captivate the judges, and that crying made her face puff up.
So, Kitty learned. She was quiet, and soft, and so very, very pretty. The only things that anyone ever saw from her was what they would have wanted to see. Judges did not see the way her foot stomped and how she groaned at the fit of her dress — only how pretty it sparkled and how nicely it twirled. None of her tutors or classmates would ever see when her ankle twisted and how she scowled at any buckle in her knee. Only the routines she wanted them to; only the moments she picked.
It wasn’t anything nefarious, really. She didn’t want to be seen; therefore, she wouldn’t be. Only a childish sort of rebellion; the kind any kid Kitty’s age went through, especially one whose life was so publicized. It started small. She hid from her parents backstage until she could calm down and stop the whining she knew they hated. Really, she didn’t even mean it as mischief — it just seemed like the best option for everyone. She would be free to be upset, to tug at the tie and the scratchy tights. Her parents would be free from being upset at all.
So, she snuck off. Easy and light on her feet from the years of ballet, unseen by anyone. She slinked between equipment crates and stagehands moving crates. When she heard her parents get worried, she simply reappeared. A white lie about getting lost in all the chaos already prepared; something plain enough for no one to bother questioning her, especially when she was supposed to compete in only a few minutes. It just made everything easier. Kitty went on stage as if she had done nothing, looking perfectly pretty.
It helped with ballet, too, her new-found affinity for sneaking around. When faced with a combination she couldn’t quite get down, Kitty would find an opening and run off. Hide in the studio’s dark corners, far away from the barre and the mirrors and the scrutiny in her coach’s eyes. Perhaps she would have felt worse if that old woman didn’t get so mean about it all; besides, she’d be back quickly, and she was generally good enough that people tended to believe whatever excuse she’d pick that time. At home, Kitty would find herself sneaking cookies after dinner. She didn’t feel particularly guilty about that one, either, considering the meal plan of a ballerina.
Besides, it’s not like anyone ever noticed. Children should be seen and not heard; and Kitty, ever the overachiever, knew when to be neither.
It was a sentiment Kitty was more than familiar with. She was a pretty girl with pretty ambitions: win the pageant, score the solo, do well. The most talking that involved would be on stage, giving pretty answers; the most sound permitted being pretty music during rehearsal. Why waste breath on things un-pretty — on requests to leave early, on complaints about her dress, on all things considered whining? She learned quickly it would bring absolutely no results. Her parents would only scold and remind her that it was important to show herself, even if she was tired, that the dress was sparkly and would be sure to captivate the judges, and that crying made her face puff up.
So, Kitty learned. She was quiet, and soft, and so very, very pretty. The only things that anyone ever saw from her was what they would have wanted to see. Judges did not see the way her foot stomped and how she groaned at the fit of her dress — only how pretty it sparkled and how nicely it twirled. None of her tutors or classmates would ever see when her ankle twisted and how she scowled at any buckle in her knee. Only the routines she wanted them to; only the moments she picked.
It wasn’t anything nefarious, really. She didn’t want to be seen; therefore, she wouldn’t be. Only a childish sort of rebellion; the kind any kid Kitty’s age went through, especially one whose life was so publicized. It started small. She hid from her parents backstage until she could calm down and stop the whining she knew they hated. Really, she didn’t even mean it as mischief — it just seemed like the best option for everyone. She would be free to be upset, to tug at the tie and the scratchy tights. Her parents would be free from being upset at all.
So, she snuck off. Easy and light on her feet from the years of ballet, unseen by anyone. She slinked between equipment crates and stagehands moving crates. When she heard her parents get worried, she simply reappeared. A white lie about getting lost in all the chaos already prepared; something plain enough for no one to bother questioning her, especially when she was supposed to compete in only a few minutes. It just made everything easier. Kitty went on stage as if she had done nothing, looking perfectly pretty.
It helped with ballet, too, her new-found affinity for sneaking around. When faced with a combination she couldn’t quite get down, Kitty would find an opening and run off. Hide in the studio’s dark corners, far away from the barre and the mirrors and the scrutiny in her coach’s eyes. Perhaps she would have felt worse if that old woman didn’t get so mean about it all; besides, she’d be back quickly, and she was generally good enough that people tended to believe whatever excuse she’d pick that time. At home, Kitty would find herself sneaking cookies after dinner. She didn’t feel particularly guilty about that one, either, considering the meal plan of a ballerina.
Besides, it’s not like anyone ever noticed. Children should be seen and not heard; and Kitty, ever the overachiever, knew when to be neither.
Name of ability: Perfectionist — year 2 ability.STATUS: Approved -- Ophelia, 4 Jan
Describe why this fits your character: 534/400
Reducio
By the time Kitty was 12 and in her second year, one thing became abundantly clear: her parents did not know what she was talking about. Neither, did it seem, were they going to learn.
Kitty understood. It was all a shock to her, too; though she was far more excited than Henry and Mary Anne seemed. Still, she understood. Even she had trouble internalizing that magic was real. Half the time, she felt like she would wake up from some very nice dream, back on her 11th birthday all over again. Still, she had been pretty used to it considering the fact she, well, attended Ilvermorny. Her parents didn’t have the benefit of actually attending the classes. They never got to participate in the opening ceremony last year, they did not get to be picked by one of the four houses. They never got to see Quodpot in action, or take Transfiguration, or Charms, or any of these classes that she truly, deeply, loved—
So, Kitty resolved to help.
Her parents did not get to see how cool everything in Ilvermorny was, but Kitty was there! Kitty was there, so she would show them, in the best possible way that she could. She started writing letters; at least two a week, reporting on everything she saw. Still, there wouldn’t have been much reporting to do if she didn’t get out and see as much as possible… so she resolved to do that, too. Kitty threw herself into her extracurriculars. She loved Quodpot, she made friends, she did everything she could and detailed all of it in her letters, hoping for a response.
When her parents did not seem receptive, Kitty was… disappointed, sure, but undeterred. She switched tack, throwing herself into her studies instead. If there was something that she was sure would get her parents’ reaction, it would have to be this. She spent hours pouring over every spell mentioned, quickly learning the layout of the library over the course of only a week. She made detailed notes; made sure her letters were lengthy. Soon enough, her grades shot up. She had a report card any parent would be proud of. Her understanding of the spells deepened, too — though she wasn’t failing by any means before, all the extra work was paying off.
She was able to make theoretical and practical connections between all the different subjects. Instead of just learning to know spells, Kitty found herself with an understanding of magical theory deeper than her peers. The more she dove into it, the more everything made sense: etymology and wand movements forming an interwoven tapestry she felt stupid at not having seen before. She wasn’t an average, decent student anymore. She was good. Hardworking and determined, no longer allowing herself the luxury of mediocrity. She found herself enjoying the work, too. It was no longer a chore or simply a duty; though the newly high grades were nice, they weren’t the reason she was doing anymore. It was the start of a genuine interest in all things magical. The first spark of passion.
Kitty’s parents said they were glad she was having fun.
Kitty understood. It was all a shock to her, too; though she was far more excited than Henry and Mary Anne seemed. Still, she understood. Even she had trouble internalizing that magic was real. Half the time, she felt like she would wake up from some very nice dream, back on her 11th birthday all over again. Still, she had been pretty used to it considering the fact she, well, attended Ilvermorny. Her parents didn’t have the benefit of actually attending the classes. They never got to participate in the opening ceremony last year, they did not get to be picked by one of the four houses. They never got to see Quodpot in action, or take Transfiguration, or Charms, or any of these classes that she truly, deeply, loved—
So, Kitty resolved to help.
Her parents did not get to see how cool everything in Ilvermorny was, but Kitty was there! Kitty was there, so she would show them, in the best possible way that she could. She started writing letters; at least two a week, reporting on everything she saw. Still, there wouldn’t have been much reporting to do if she didn’t get out and see as much as possible… so she resolved to do that, too. Kitty threw herself into her extracurriculars. She loved Quodpot, she made friends, she did everything she could and detailed all of it in her letters, hoping for a response.
When her parents did not seem receptive, Kitty was… disappointed, sure, but undeterred. She switched tack, throwing herself into her studies instead. If there was something that she was sure would get her parents’ reaction, it would have to be this. She spent hours pouring over every spell mentioned, quickly learning the layout of the library over the course of only a week. She made detailed notes; made sure her letters were lengthy. Soon enough, her grades shot up. She had a report card any parent would be proud of. Her understanding of the spells deepened, too — though she wasn’t failing by any means before, all the extra work was paying off.
She was able to make theoretical and practical connections between all the different subjects. Instead of just learning to know spells, Kitty found herself with an understanding of magical theory deeper than her peers. The more she dove into it, the more everything made sense: etymology and wand movements forming an interwoven tapestry she felt stupid at not having seen before. She wasn’t an average, decent student anymore. She was good. Hardworking and determined, no longer allowing herself the luxury of mediocrity. She found herself enjoying the work, too. It was no longer a chore or simply a duty; though the newly high grades were nice, they weren’t the reason she was doing anymore. It was the start of a genuine interest in all things magical. The first spark of passion.
Kitty’s parents said they were glad she was having fun.
Name of ability: Calming Presence — year 3 ability.STATUS: Approved -- Ophelia, 4 Jan
Describe why this fits your character: 551/400
Reducio
Kitty had always been taught to be nice. It had always come easy, too. Ever since she was a kid, she was always a welcoming presence: warm and helpful, and in her own way, gentle. As a kid, she insisted on stopping to pick up every caterpillar found on a sidewalk. She welcomed the new girls in her ballet classes and her opponents during pageants — loudly, too. Sometimes a bit too loudly, perhaps, but always with the best of intentions.
When Kitty’s parents only grew quieter, all but silent, she was down. Discouraged. She had done her best, in class and out of it. Her letters brought with them post cards from Massachusetts and Every Flavor Beans. She agreed, like a nice girl and a good daughter would, to participate in pageants and events whenever they asked. She hated every second of being back home for summer, wanting to cry. Her day to day schedule was suddenly filled with things that felt foreign and unfamiliar. She knew they used to be second nature. Her muscle memory did its best; all it achieved was phantom pain. She felt an urge to protest when her ballet teacher told her to stop trying to go on pointe and to practice off of it for a while; still, she could not deny that she felt more at home in Ilvermorny than in South Carolina.
For two months, things felt quiet. The only sound was Tchaikovsky on loop; Kitty grew to hate The Nutcracker. After she got back to Ilvermorny, things were worse. Her parents’ letters only grew shorter and less frequent. It was then she decided — she hated this sudden silence, and if she had to be too loud to stop it? So be it.
Kitty got loud that year. Literally and figuratively.
It was a confusing year for her. She wasn’t sure if it was conscious or not, but there had to come a decision. Perhaps after her 14th birthday, perhaps a little earlier; she could not pinpoint it, but at some point, a motto grew in her head, guiding the rest of that year’s thoughts. If her parents were silent, she would not be. More importantly, she would not let anyone else experience the silence that plagued her. She spoke, loudly, and often, and sometimes without thought. Heated and brash and too much. She spoke to anyone and everyone. Whoever would listen, and sometimes to those who wouldn’t, too.
For a while, it didn’t really work out. Ever persistent, though, Kitty continued. She grew to be a familiar face that year to most people at Ilvermorny. She learned, through trial and error — mostly error — how to temper the warmth that poured from her. To keep herself open, to not only invite and start conversation but to create a space where it would flourish. It was easier than she thought. People seemed to find the indiscriminate openness with which she spoke welcoming; she talked about the good, the bad, the ugly. Acknowledged both her struggles and her achievements, and seemed infinitely ready to listen and lift others up. She talked until she ran out of stories to share. Then she asked questions, and then she listened. With intent. With a rare level of genuine care.
She got a lot of music recommendations that year.
When Kitty’s parents only grew quieter, all but silent, she was down. Discouraged. She had done her best, in class and out of it. Her letters brought with them post cards from Massachusetts and Every Flavor Beans. She agreed, like a nice girl and a good daughter would, to participate in pageants and events whenever they asked. She hated every second of being back home for summer, wanting to cry. Her day to day schedule was suddenly filled with things that felt foreign and unfamiliar. She knew they used to be second nature. Her muscle memory did its best; all it achieved was phantom pain. She felt an urge to protest when her ballet teacher told her to stop trying to go on pointe and to practice off of it for a while; still, she could not deny that she felt more at home in Ilvermorny than in South Carolina.
For two months, things felt quiet. The only sound was Tchaikovsky on loop; Kitty grew to hate The Nutcracker. After she got back to Ilvermorny, things were worse. Her parents’ letters only grew shorter and less frequent. It was then she decided — she hated this sudden silence, and if she had to be too loud to stop it? So be it.
Kitty got loud that year. Literally and figuratively.
It was a confusing year for her. She wasn’t sure if it was conscious or not, but there had to come a decision. Perhaps after her 14th birthday, perhaps a little earlier; she could not pinpoint it, but at some point, a motto grew in her head, guiding the rest of that year’s thoughts. If her parents were silent, she would not be. More importantly, she would not let anyone else experience the silence that plagued her. She spoke, loudly, and often, and sometimes without thought. Heated and brash and too much. She spoke to anyone and everyone. Whoever would listen, and sometimes to those who wouldn’t, too.
For a while, it didn’t really work out. Ever persistent, though, Kitty continued. She grew to be a familiar face that year to most people at Ilvermorny. She learned, through trial and error — mostly error — how to temper the warmth that poured from her. To keep herself open, to not only invite and start conversation but to create a space where it would flourish. It was easier than she thought. People seemed to find the indiscriminate openness with which she spoke welcoming; she talked about the good, the bad, the ugly. Acknowledged both her struggles and her achievements, and seemed infinitely ready to listen and lift others up. She talked until she ran out of stories to share. Then she asked questions, and then she listened. With intent. With a rare level of genuine care.
She got a lot of music recommendations that year.
Name of ability: Impartial — year 4 ability.STATUS: Approved -- Ophelia, 4 Jan
Describe why this fits your character: 524/400
Reducio
Prettiness, in all its lovely glory, had meant less and less to Kitty as time went on.
It used to be important. Very important. It was what she was taught to aspire towards; it was what she was taught to value. And for a while, she did. Kitty looked past personality conflicts and snide comments in favor of being nice to the pretty playmates her parents picked for her. She learned to pick pretty people out from the crowd. However subconsciously, it was something she used to judge people. The luster and style of someone's hair, the symmetry in their face, their posture and the grace in every smile — catalogued. Dutifully noted. Kitty never turned anyone away because they did not meet a certain standard, but it would have been a lie to say it played no part in how she saw someone.
She steered away from this mindset as she grew. Her third year was spent talking to people. A lot of people. It became useless and rather counter-productive to pay so much attention to people’s looks. Kitty turned her mind to what lay beyond the immediate first impressions: the way they spoke, the answers they gave when she asked questions. Loveliness, in all senses of the word, slowly faded to the wayside. She did not care for quiet platitudes and niceties; she similarly stopped caring about appearances.
It came to a head the summer of her fourth year. Kitty had, as was tradition by now, agreed to partake in a variety of events her parents had lined up for her. Though her distaste for them had grown over the past four years, she still felt obligated to show up; if not for her own, then for her parents’ sake. She had done a lot for that exact same reason already. What was another tea party, or social, or recital to add to the list?
A lot, it turned out. Being in Ilvermorny, having spent a good chunk of her tenure there as a social butterfly, Kitty had perspective that South Carolina hadn't even offered before. The people her parents wanted her to see were, by all accounts, pretty. Rich, with pretty houses, and pretty clothes, and pretty hair, and pretty voices, and pretty interests and pretty— everything. They were so, so pretty… and so, so boring.
Perhaps that was unfair to say, but those few months she spent back in Columbia put things into perspective for her. Whatever halo effect Kitty was under before was gone. She no longer found herself entertained by the same conversations, questions, and stories, just because they came from pretty people.
Kitty could still see all the things that made people pretty. She could categorize them just as she used to, but no longer did it impact how she viewed people. Instead, it led to her being far harder to sway. She grew less naive. Impartial. She saw past pink smoke and pocket mirrors and was left entirely unimpressed. Perhaps it took an embarrassing amount of time, but Katherine had learned not to judge a book by its cover, no matter how pretty.
It used to be important. Very important. It was what she was taught to aspire towards; it was what she was taught to value. And for a while, she did. Kitty looked past personality conflicts and snide comments in favor of being nice to the pretty playmates her parents picked for her. She learned to pick pretty people out from the crowd. However subconsciously, it was something she used to judge people. The luster and style of someone's hair, the symmetry in their face, their posture and the grace in every smile — catalogued. Dutifully noted. Kitty never turned anyone away because they did not meet a certain standard, but it would have been a lie to say it played no part in how she saw someone.
She steered away from this mindset as she grew. Her third year was spent talking to people. A lot of people. It became useless and rather counter-productive to pay so much attention to people’s looks. Kitty turned her mind to what lay beyond the immediate first impressions: the way they spoke, the answers they gave when she asked questions. Loveliness, in all senses of the word, slowly faded to the wayside. She did not care for quiet platitudes and niceties; she similarly stopped caring about appearances.
It came to a head the summer of her fourth year. Kitty had, as was tradition by now, agreed to partake in a variety of events her parents had lined up for her. Though her distaste for them had grown over the past four years, she still felt obligated to show up; if not for her own, then for her parents’ sake. She had done a lot for that exact same reason already. What was another tea party, or social, or recital to add to the list?
A lot, it turned out. Being in Ilvermorny, having spent a good chunk of her tenure there as a social butterfly, Kitty had perspective that South Carolina hadn't even offered before. The people her parents wanted her to see were, by all accounts, pretty. Rich, with pretty houses, and pretty clothes, and pretty hair, and pretty voices, and pretty interests and pretty— everything. They were so, so pretty… and so, so boring.
Perhaps that was unfair to say, but those few months she spent back in Columbia put things into perspective for her. Whatever halo effect Kitty was under before was gone. She no longer found herself entertained by the same conversations, questions, and stories, just because they came from pretty people.
Kitty could still see all the things that made people pretty. She could categorize them just as she used to, but no longer did it impact how she viewed people. Instead, it led to her being far harder to sway. She grew less naive. Impartial. She saw past pink smoke and pocket mirrors and was left entirely unimpressed. Perhaps it took an embarrassing amount of time, but Katherine had learned not to judge a book by its cover, no matter how pretty.
Name of ability: Fearless — year 5 ability.STATUS: Approved -- Ophelia, 4 Jan
Describe why this fits your character: 1605/400
Reducio
No child, including one in their mid-teens, should have to face the idea of their parents not loving them. Still, this was the prospect Kitty found herself with during the winter break of her fifth year at Ilvermorny.
Her last summer was hell. Worse than hell, really. For the first time in… well, fifteen years, Kitty dared refuse something they asked of her. She found herself tired by the pretense in all social interactions in South Carolina, despite having only noticed it last year, and she didn’t want to participate in it any further. She wasn’t trying to be flippant, or ungrateful, or any of the manner of things that her parents interpreted her refusal as being. She was just tired of all of it. Of the pageants she no longer liked, of rehearsals that made her feel like a toddler learning to walk again. So, when they asked — or rather, told her about the things they’d already lined up — Kitty said no.
She was met with disapproval. Cold at first, then hot; silent treatment followed by shouting matches. The house was silent that summer. No dreaded Tchaikovsky to fill the empty spaces left behind by the lack of stilted conversation. The only time things got loud was if they were arguing, and they always were. No discussion started by either Kitty or her parents was safe. Everything devolved into crying and screaming before any of them could realise. Disgrace, they had called her in one of the many arguments, the word branding itself into the walls of her mind.
She had never been more relieved to go back to Ilvermorny.
Her parents sent no letters for the beginning few months of her fifth year. Really, Kitty was glad they were muggles — she had seen her friends from wizarding families receive howlers, and that certainly did not seem pleasant. She didn’t enjoy the quiet, but it was better than the alternative. Instead, Kitty found herself becoming inoculated to it all. There had been a simmering anxiety that had accompanied her through all her years up until now. Every owl was tallied, as was every lack of response. She had spent months trying to balance her own happiness with the fear of disappointing her parents, and now that she knew that she had done so either way…
… there wasn’t much to fear anymore.
Kitty got more confident that year. She already had been confident plenty, but she shed the people-pleaser tendencies and grew bold. Unafraid of others and their opinions.
It came to a finale on her birthday — or, rather, the month after. They sent a letter. Something Kitty hadn't expected, considering their last conversation left her hoarse and in tears. It was simple. Plainest of well wishes. Not really an expression of regret, or an apology; not much beyond “hope you're having a happy birthday,” signed by only her mother, but it was enough to make Kitty consider it an olive branch. Some very vague attempt at reconciliation. So, a month and some change out, she decided to go home for the holidays. To try, one last time, to talk to her parents calmly. Have a nice Christmas together, free from pressure on either side.
The moment she sat down for dinner, her mother cleared her throat, and asked if Kitty would be participating in a pageant her and her father had arranged for her to compete in.
She sat there, at the dinner table, staring up at her parents. The room was quiet — cutlery scraped against porcelain, the dinner in front of her suddenly luke-warm; her stomach turned when she glanced at it, as if the golden duck on her plate had turned rotten with white peach fuzz in the span of the last few minutes. Perhaps if it really had, Kitty would have had an excuse to leave; instead, no amount of looking at her food would save her from her mother’s expectant stare.
Finally, Kitty lifted her head. “You can’t be serious.”
She watched her parents’ reactions with what felt uncomfortably like disinterest. She remembered caring — just a few months ago, she cared so much it felt like her chest would explode. She remembered screaming, and fighting, and begging them to understand just how exhausted South Carolina made her, and just how happy Ilvermorny did. Now, she only remembered that feeling, how it sat heavy in her chest, mixing with the thickness of the summer air til it felt like she couldn’t breathe. Now, Kitty felt her chest expand freely as she inhaled, trying to contain her emotions.
She had come back for winter break one last time. She knew she had the option of staying back at Ilvermorny, but it felt wrong. Their last conversation ended in a shouting match, and summer had been a string of migraines and arguments one after another — she didn’t want to be on bad terms with her parents. Kitty wanted to remain steadfast in the belief that they cared, that they were just… misguided. Confused. A little scared, just as she had been a few years back. That belief was being tested now.
“That’s all you care about? Really?”
“It was just a question. There’s no need to be so… flippant, Katherine,” Henry sighed, putting his fork and knife down. He seemed tired already, pinching the bridge of his nose. Usually, this would be where Kitty backed down — perhaps out of some misguided fear she would exhaust her father further. Not this time. She felt no obligation to protect his feelings, her displeasure with their request evident on her face as she refused to break eye contact. “Your mother and I are just trying to connect—”
“No, you’re not,” Kitty cut him off, blinking. There wasn’t much more to say, but judging by her parents’ dumb-founded look, they would have liked her to elaborate. She shrugged her shoulders, leaning back in her seat. She didn’t feel the tension, the low-grade dread that had accompanied every interaction with her parents for the past four years. “Your first words to me, after months,” she pointed out, incredulous chuckle falling past her lips, “are about a fucking pageant.”
“Language!” Mary Anne reprimanded, also putting her knife and fork down now, manicured hands clenching around the cutlery. The look on her face suggested something between both anger and exasperation. Kitty felt no more discomfort with the idea of upsetting her so — just distaste, acrid and bitter on her tongue. “You love pageants.”
“No, I don’t,”” Kitty said, eyes flicking between her mother and her father. A mix of confusion and, once again, that unfamiliar boredom, swelled. The idea of facing her parents had caused her such distress over the years. To suddenly have it gone, replaced only with a mild distaste was odd, though not unpleasant. She looked at Henry, at the father who she knew wished for a daughter far different from the one he got, and no longer saw the boogeyman from the cold, impersonal letters. Just a balding little man slowly turning red while trying to pick at the duck on his plate. “I told you that already. A bunch of times, actually, what, five months ago?”
“You’re missing the point,” the tone of her father’s huff was stern. Probably intended as a warning, but no longer one Kitty intended to heed. She could only sit there: dumbfounded, but no longer afraid. In some way, she was free of the childish idea that if she did enough, tried hard enough, her parents would understand. Mostly, she was just confused though. Did they forget their behavior? What they made clear she was to them? To this family as a whole?
“Piss off,” Kitty managed to utter, a quiet chuckle falling past her lips as she stared at her father with wide eyes.
She heard her mother’s tone rise as anger mounted. “You quit bein’ ugly right this second, Katherine, or so help me—”
“Eat shit,” Kitty said, meeting Mary Anne’s eyes. She reveled in the silence that followed, no longer bothering to suppress her chuckling at her father almost choking his food down. She glanced between her parents with distaste, debating, for a moment, whether to try and temper their anger. To quit while she was ahead. “It'd probably taste better than this anyway,” she said instead, pushing her plate away and standing up.
She spent the rest of that holiday break blasting music up in her room. Perhaps it was protest; perhaps it was just meant to get on their nerves. Either way, Kitty found she didn't care much. There was a strange lightness to her. She was free of the low-grade dread that had weighed her shoulders down for the past four years — longer, really.
Upon her return to Ilvermorny, Kitty found she was cut off from her parents’ financial support while away from home. It hadn't been much, really, compared to what they once used to spend on dressed and leotards, but it was official now. Her textbooks for next year were purchased second-hand. She was alone — out on her own. A few months ago, the idea of it would have terrified her to her core; now, Kitty had realised that she had been on her own for a long, long time.
The reality no child should face had hit her like a truck, and yet it left her standing, unbroken. Confronting her biggest fear, their disappointment, shifted something she couldn't quite pinpoint. Still, no longer did her boggart twist into the disappointed scowls of Henry and Mary Anne Townsend — and no longer did any challenge seem to Kitty particularly scary.
Her last summer was hell. Worse than hell, really. For the first time in… well, fifteen years, Kitty dared refuse something they asked of her. She found herself tired by the pretense in all social interactions in South Carolina, despite having only noticed it last year, and she didn’t want to participate in it any further. She wasn’t trying to be flippant, or ungrateful, or any of the manner of things that her parents interpreted her refusal as being. She was just tired of all of it. Of the pageants she no longer liked, of rehearsals that made her feel like a toddler learning to walk again. So, when they asked — or rather, told her about the things they’d already lined up — Kitty said no.
She was met with disapproval. Cold at first, then hot; silent treatment followed by shouting matches. The house was silent that summer. No dreaded Tchaikovsky to fill the empty spaces left behind by the lack of stilted conversation. The only time things got loud was if they were arguing, and they always were. No discussion started by either Kitty or her parents was safe. Everything devolved into crying and screaming before any of them could realise. Disgrace, they had called her in one of the many arguments, the word branding itself into the walls of her mind.
She had never been more relieved to go back to Ilvermorny.
Her parents sent no letters for the beginning few months of her fifth year. Really, Kitty was glad they were muggles — she had seen her friends from wizarding families receive howlers, and that certainly did not seem pleasant. She didn’t enjoy the quiet, but it was better than the alternative. Instead, Kitty found herself becoming inoculated to it all. There had been a simmering anxiety that had accompanied her through all her years up until now. Every owl was tallied, as was every lack of response. She had spent months trying to balance her own happiness with the fear of disappointing her parents, and now that she knew that she had done so either way…
… there wasn’t much to fear anymore.
Kitty got more confident that year. She already had been confident plenty, but she shed the people-pleaser tendencies and grew bold. Unafraid of others and their opinions.
It came to a finale on her birthday — or, rather, the month after. They sent a letter. Something Kitty hadn't expected, considering their last conversation left her hoarse and in tears. It was simple. Plainest of well wishes. Not really an expression of regret, or an apology; not much beyond “hope you're having a happy birthday,” signed by only her mother, but it was enough to make Kitty consider it an olive branch. Some very vague attempt at reconciliation. So, a month and some change out, she decided to go home for the holidays. To try, one last time, to talk to her parents calmly. Have a nice Christmas together, free from pressure on either side.
The moment she sat down for dinner, her mother cleared her throat, and asked if Kitty would be participating in a pageant her and her father had arranged for her to compete in.
She sat there, at the dinner table, staring up at her parents. The room was quiet — cutlery scraped against porcelain, the dinner in front of her suddenly luke-warm; her stomach turned when she glanced at it, as if the golden duck on her plate had turned rotten with white peach fuzz in the span of the last few minutes. Perhaps if it really had, Kitty would have had an excuse to leave; instead, no amount of looking at her food would save her from her mother’s expectant stare.
Finally, Kitty lifted her head. “You can’t be serious.”
She watched her parents’ reactions with what felt uncomfortably like disinterest. She remembered caring — just a few months ago, she cared so much it felt like her chest would explode. She remembered screaming, and fighting, and begging them to understand just how exhausted South Carolina made her, and just how happy Ilvermorny did. Now, she only remembered that feeling, how it sat heavy in her chest, mixing with the thickness of the summer air til it felt like she couldn’t breathe. Now, Kitty felt her chest expand freely as she inhaled, trying to contain her emotions.
She had come back for winter break one last time. She knew she had the option of staying back at Ilvermorny, but it felt wrong. Their last conversation ended in a shouting match, and summer had been a string of migraines and arguments one after another — she didn’t want to be on bad terms with her parents. Kitty wanted to remain steadfast in the belief that they cared, that they were just… misguided. Confused. A little scared, just as she had been a few years back. That belief was being tested now.
“That’s all you care about? Really?”
“It was just a question. There’s no need to be so… flippant, Katherine,” Henry sighed, putting his fork and knife down. He seemed tired already, pinching the bridge of his nose. Usually, this would be where Kitty backed down — perhaps out of some misguided fear she would exhaust her father further. Not this time. She felt no obligation to protect his feelings, her displeasure with their request evident on her face as she refused to break eye contact. “Your mother and I are just trying to connect—”
“No, you’re not,” Kitty cut him off, blinking. There wasn’t much more to say, but judging by her parents’ dumb-founded look, they would have liked her to elaborate. She shrugged her shoulders, leaning back in her seat. She didn’t feel the tension, the low-grade dread that had accompanied every interaction with her parents for the past four years. “Your first words to me, after months,” she pointed out, incredulous chuckle falling past her lips, “are about a fucking pageant.”
“Language!” Mary Anne reprimanded, also putting her knife and fork down now, manicured hands clenching around the cutlery. The look on her face suggested something between both anger and exasperation. Kitty felt no more discomfort with the idea of upsetting her so — just distaste, acrid and bitter on her tongue. “You love pageants.”
“No, I don’t,”” Kitty said, eyes flicking between her mother and her father. A mix of confusion and, once again, that unfamiliar boredom, swelled. The idea of facing her parents had caused her such distress over the years. To suddenly have it gone, replaced only with a mild distaste was odd, though not unpleasant. She looked at Henry, at the father who she knew wished for a daughter far different from the one he got, and no longer saw the boogeyman from the cold, impersonal letters. Just a balding little man slowly turning red while trying to pick at the duck on his plate. “I told you that already. A bunch of times, actually, what, five months ago?”
“You’re missing the point,” the tone of her father’s huff was stern. Probably intended as a warning, but no longer one Kitty intended to heed. She could only sit there: dumbfounded, but no longer afraid. In some way, she was free of the childish idea that if she did enough, tried hard enough, her parents would understand. Mostly, she was just confused though. Did they forget their behavior? What they made clear she was to them? To this family as a whole?
“Piss off,” Kitty managed to utter, a quiet chuckle falling past her lips as she stared at her father with wide eyes.
She heard her mother’s tone rise as anger mounted. “You quit bein’ ugly right this second, Katherine, or so help me—”
“Eat shit,” Kitty said, meeting Mary Anne’s eyes. She reveled in the silence that followed, no longer bothering to suppress her chuckling at her father almost choking his food down. She glanced between her parents with distaste, debating, for a moment, whether to try and temper their anger. To quit while she was ahead. “It'd probably taste better than this anyway,” she said instead, pushing her plate away and standing up.
She spent the rest of that holiday break blasting music up in her room. Perhaps it was protest; perhaps it was just meant to get on their nerves. Either way, Kitty found she didn't care much. There was a strange lightness to her. She was free of the low-grade dread that had weighed her shoulders down for the past four years — longer, really.
Upon her return to Ilvermorny, Kitty found she was cut off from her parents’ financial support while away from home. It hadn't been much, really, compared to what they once used to spend on dressed and leotards, but it was official now. Her textbooks for next year were purchased second-hand. She was alone — out on her own. A few months ago, the idea of it would have terrified her to her core; now, Kitty had realised that she had been on her own for a long, long time.
The reality no child should face had hit her like a truck, and yet it left her standing, unbroken. Confronting her biggest fear, their disappointment, shifted something she couldn't quite pinpoint. Still, no longer did her boggart twist into the disappointed scowls of Henry and Mary Anne Townsend — and no longer did any challenge seem to Kitty particularly scary.
Name of ability: Nonverbal magic — year 6 ability.STATUS: Approved -- Ophelia, 4 Jan
Describe why this fits your character: 767/400
Reducio
Kitty considered getting emancipated that year.
She spent the summer between her fifth and sixth officially back home, in Columbia. Unofficially, she spent it as far away from that house as possible, seeking something to do. Sometimes she just walked around — loitered, listening to something or other loud in her headphones — other times, she actually found something to do. She joined a band with some remaining muggle friends for a bit.
Kitty was cut off from her parents. Though they didn't neglect her, they didn't speak to her unless she initiated conversation; something Kitty found it increasingly easy not to do. Days stretched. Between rehearsals in someone's garage and long walks downtown, she had a lot of time to think. The idea of legal emancipation was suggested to her once, half-jokingly by a friend whose dad was a lawyer — and she entertained it, though only for a moment.
Her friend had no way of knowing about Ilvermorny. About the wand that sat deep in Kitty's bag; about the fact she'd be graduating soon enough, sooner than the rest of her bandmates would. She would be free without a long legal process. Free to do magic, to do work as a witch, to…
… well, do what, exactly?
Kitty found her answer not too long after the teary goodbyes at the tail end of August, soon after her return to Ilvermorny for her sixth year. With careers on her mind, she quickly came upon cursebreaking. Something full of thrills, adventure. Something that, if she played her cards right, would get her to a program out in Europe. Maybe in London, close to Gringott’s, maybe closer to somewhere with dragon hoards to reclaim— whatever. Kitty didn't care, so long as it was far.
Unfortunately for her, upon a very quick assessment, it seemed she had none of the right cards to play. Kitty was a good student, sure; better than most of her peers. She maintained that position easily thanks to the perfectionist nature she fostered early on, and never quite grew out of… but she didn't need good. She didn't need better. She needed the very best. Something that would make her stand out.
Nonverbal magic seemed the obvious choice. Kitty had known of it and the possibility for a few years now. It seemed a pipe dream when she was a first year; now, though, that she was older, she decided it would be the perfect thing to know for the career of her dreams. Cursebreaking could be perilous, after all, from all she’d read — never know when it’s best to keep your voice down. Fuelled by new aspirations and the will to prove herself above her peers, she began to practice.
It was torture at first. She started with Lumos, a spell she thought would come easily. Kitty was used to music, to noise, to sounds — the sound of her own talking included. To suddenly be plunged into silence, to keep herself from instinctually speaking to light the tip of her wand up, all of it felt wrong. Unfamiliar in the worst way possible. It took her weeks to get it to reliably work with just being quiet. She was peeved. She had to commit herself to it entirely — every free moment, every opportunity she had, she was practicing. Whenever she had a few moments to spare, she spent them staring at her wand intently, concentrating on the spell at hand, trying to get herself as quiet as possible.
Kitty’s first successful non-verbal spell happened during the winter break of her sixth year, which she, for the first time ever, spent at Ilvermorny. During a colder evening, chatting with friends over food, she wanted to levitate some more drinks over towards them from the table. It slowed things down significantly — considering the multiple tries a simple Wingardium Leviosa took as she tried mouthing the words without letting a single sound out… but it finally worked. Though they echoed in her head, calm and clear, no words actually slipped past her lips. A fresh bottle levitated itself over. Wobbly, but there — and before Kitty could quite process that she had finally, finally done it, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her in a congratulatory hug. This, of course, broke her concentration, and sent the bottle crashing down, but neither Kitty nor the rest of the friend group cared, sharing in the excitement of the achievement.
Her first fully nonverbal spell had remained a cherished memory for a while after that. A reminder of family found, not born. The rest came easier after that.
She spent the summer between her fifth and sixth officially back home, in Columbia. Unofficially, she spent it as far away from that house as possible, seeking something to do. Sometimes she just walked around — loitered, listening to something or other loud in her headphones — other times, she actually found something to do. She joined a band with some remaining muggle friends for a bit.
Kitty was cut off from her parents. Though they didn't neglect her, they didn't speak to her unless she initiated conversation; something Kitty found it increasingly easy not to do. Days stretched. Between rehearsals in someone's garage and long walks downtown, she had a lot of time to think. The idea of legal emancipation was suggested to her once, half-jokingly by a friend whose dad was a lawyer — and she entertained it, though only for a moment.
Her friend had no way of knowing about Ilvermorny. About the wand that sat deep in Kitty's bag; about the fact she'd be graduating soon enough, sooner than the rest of her bandmates would. She would be free without a long legal process. Free to do magic, to do work as a witch, to…
… well, do what, exactly?
Kitty found her answer not too long after the teary goodbyes at the tail end of August, soon after her return to Ilvermorny for her sixth year. With careers on her mind, she quickly came upon cursebreaking. Something full of thrills, adventure. Something that, if she played her cards right, would get her to a program out in Europe. Maybe in London, close to Gringott’s, maybe closer to somewhere with dragon hoards to reclaim— whatever. Kitty didn't care, so long as it was far.
Unfortunately for her, upon a very quick assessment, it seemed she had none of the right cards to play. Kitty was a good student, sure; better than most of her peers. She maintained that position easily thanks to the perfectionist nature she fostered early on, and never quite grew out of… but she didn't need good. She didn't need better. She needed the very best. Something that would make her stand out.
Nonverbal magic seemed the obvious choice. Kitty had known of it and the possibility for a few years now. It seemed a pipe dream when she was a first year; now, though, that she was older, she decided it would be the perfect thing to know for the career of her dreams. Cursebreaking could be perilous, after all, from all she’d read — never know when it’s best to keep your voice down. Fuelled by new aspirations and the will to prove herself above her peers, she began to practice.
It was torture at first. She started with Lumos, a spell she thought would come easily. Kitty was used to music, to noise, to sounds — the sound of her own talking included. To suddenly be plunged into silence, to keep herself from instinctually speaking to light the tip of her wand up, all of it felt wrong. Unfamiliar in the worst way possible. It took her weeks to get it to reliably work with just being quiet. She was peeved. She had to commit herself to it entirely — every free moment, every opportunity she had, she was practicing. Whenever she had a few moments to spare, she spent them staring at her wand intently, concentrating on the spell at hand, trying to get herself as quiet as possible.
Kitty’s first successful non-verbal spell happened during the winter break of her sixth year, which she, for the first time ever, spent at Ilvermorny. During a colder evening, chatting with friends over food, she wanted to levitate some more drinks over towards them from the table. It slowed things down significantly — considering the multiple tries a simple Wingardium Leviosa took as she tried mouthing the words without letting a single sound out… but it finally worked. Though they echoed in her head, calm and clear, no words actually slipped past her lips. A fresh bottle levitated itself over. Wobbly, but there — and before Kitty could quite process that she had finally, finally done it, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her in a congratulatory hug. This, of course, broke her concentration, and sent the bottle crashing down, but neither Kitty nor the rest of the friend group cared, sharing in the excitement of the achievement.
Her first fully nonverbal spell had remained a cherished memory for a while after that. A reminder of family found, not born. The rest came easier after that.
Name of ability: Occlumency — year 7 ability.STATUS: Approved -- Ophelia, 4 Jan
Describe why this fits your character: 770/400
Reducio
For years, Kitty would have called herself — not entirely incorrectly — as proud. As she reached her seventh year at Ilvermorny, though, she was coming to the conclusion that she was simply tired.
Though Kitty herself had long since rid herself of the fear of others’ opinions of her, she was still keenly aware of their preconceived notions of her. She was a vaguely pretty looking girl — and even if she didn't care for the superficiality of it any longer, she couldn't stop everyone else from having that lead first impressions. She smiled a lot. She talked a lot. She did her best to remain kind and optimistic and a little too loud, and that seemed to give a lot of people the idea of her being naive. Stupid, even.
People saw the bright colors of her clothes and assumed stupid; people heard her laugh freely and assumed naive. Kitty hated it. She fought for her personality — it was not a natural lack of skepticism or inexperience with the harsher sides of the people around her. It was warmth curated despite, despite, despite. Despite her parents, despite her own instincts, despite all that had touched her.
Kitty was fine with people’s first impressions of her being less-than-stellar. What Kitty was not fine with, however, was people refusing to acknowledge what sat past the bright facade. Her skills, her genuine warmth, her intelligence. People close to her, no less. She had fought to remain vulnerable. Pried her ribcage open just to ensure she would remain so. In return, Kitty only felt boxed in, classified, and dismissed: a specimen reduced to the base of her appearance and reactions. Perhaps there was some pride to it. Mostly, she just felt tired. Beaten down in a way she hadn’t been in a long time.
She was excited to learn wandless magic in her seventh year at Ilvermorny. It would pair well with nonverbal magic, after all, and she would have been happy not to need her wand anymore. The bone deep exhaustion that had settled in her limbs, however, led her down a different path — maybe a misguided one, but nevertheless an attempt at reclaiming some of that vulnerability that had allowed people to feel the right to assess her so easily and simply.
Occlumency.
A way to cut oneself off from anyone who wished to pry. A way to lock the depth of one’s mind away, under lock and key. Unreachable unless given permission. In any other circumstance it might have spelled something that went against Kitty’s general attempts to be open. That year, however, after the emotional turmoil she had been experiencing socially, it just felt safe. A measure of control over what people got to see, not dissimilar to her sneaking around when she was a kid. Only the routines she wanted them to; only the moments she picked.
It was a good thing to know, too. The swap from wandless magic did not destroy any plans. Her scholarship was pretty much decided already, only made official during the spring semester — and occlumency certainly wasn’t an ability any admissions officer would scoff at.
Kitty was lucky enough to find a legilimens she trusted to help along with her training of the ability. An Ilvermorny professor who she happened to have enjoyed the classes of for the last seven years. Books and accounts and studies could only take her so far, after all, and she feared she would have quit quite quickly had it been someone she knew less. The process was gruelling, after all — exactly what she wanted to avoid, again and again, until she could effectively parry any and all attempts. Increasingly personal memories dug up for someone foreign to see. Pageants. The feeling of not fitting in her leotard anymore the older she grew. Every fight she had with her parents; every fight she had with her friends. When that didn’t hurt enough: the moment her father spat out that she was a disgrace.
Had Kitty been any less resilient, she would have given up. It hurt. It was meant to. She had long had a history now, however, of doing things despite any and all opposition, and she persevered. Learned how to systematically lock every door, disallow entry or viewing of any and all memories and thoughts. Progressing, steadily, from the ones that made something sting lightly beneath her ribs to the ones that made her cry and hyperventilate.
Kitty remained warm after she learned. She still wanted to be open, after all. Kind; caring, despite. It was simply that now, she held the keys.
Though Kitty herself had long since rid herself of the fear of others’ opinions of her, she was still keenly aware of their preconceived notions of her. She was a vaguely pretty looking girl — and even if she didn't care for the superficiality of it any longer, she couldn't stop everyone else from having that lead first impressions. She smiled a lot. She talked a lot. She did her best to remain kind and optimistic and a little too loud, and that seemed to give a lot of people the idea of her being naive. Stupid, even.
People saw the bright colors of her clothes and assumed stupid; people heard her laugh freely and assumed naive. Kitty hated it. She fought for her personality — it was not a natural lack of skepticism or inexperience with the harsher sides of the people around her. It was warmth curated despite, despite, despite. Despite her parents, despite her own instincts, despite all that had touched her.
Kitty was fine with people’s first impressions of her being less-than-stellar. What Kitty was not fine with, however, was people refusing to acknowledge what sat past the bright facade. Her skills, her genuine warmth, her intelligence. People close to her, no less. She had fought to remain vulnerable. Pried her ribcage open just to ensure she would remain so. In return, Kitty only felt boxed in, classified, and dismissed: a specimen reduced to the base of her appearance and reactions. Perhaps there was some pride to it. Mostly, she just felt tired. Beaten down in a way she hadn’t been in a long time.
She was excited to learn wandless magic in her seventh year at Ilvermorny. It would pair well with nonverbal magic, after all, and she would have been happy not to need her wand anymore. The bone deep exhaustion that had settled in her limbs, however, led her down a different path — maybe a misguided one, but nevertheless an attempt at reclaiming some of that vulnerability that had allowed people to feel the right to assess her so easily and simply.
Occlumency.
A way to cut oneself off from anyone who wished to pry. A way to lock the depth of one’s mind away, under lock and key. Unreachable unless given permission. In any other circumstance it might have spelled something that went against Kitty’s general attempts to be open. That year, however, after the emotional turmoil she had been experiencing socially, it just felt safe. A measure of control over what people got to see, not dissimilar to her sneaking around when she was a kid. Only the routines she wanted them to; only the moments she picked.
It was a good thing to know, too. The swap from wandless magic did not destroy any plans. Her scholarship was pretty much decided already, only made official during the spring semester — and occlumency certainly wasn’t an ability any admissions officer would scoff at.
Kitty was lucky enough to find a legilimens she trusted to help along with her training of the ability. An Ilvermorny professor who she happened to have enjoyed the classes of for the last seven years. Books and accounts and studies could only take her so far, after all, and she feared she would have quit quite quickly had it been someone she knew less. The process was gruelling, after all — exactly what she wanted to avoid, again and again, until she could effectively parry any and all attempts. Increasingly personal memories dug up for someone foreign to see. Pageants. The feeling of not fitting in her leotard anymore the older she grew. Every fight she had with her parents; every fight she had with her friends. When that didn’t hurt enough: the moment her father spat out that she was a disgrace.
Had Kitty been any less resilient, she would have given up. It hurt. It was meant to. She had long had a history now, however, of doing things despite any and all opposition, and she persevered. Learned how to systematically lock every door, disallow entry or viewing of any and all memories and thoughts. Progressing, steadily, from the ones that made something sting lightly beneath her ribs to the ones that made her cry and hyperventilate.
Kitty remained warm after she learned. She still wanted to be open, after all. Kind; caring, despite. It was simply that now, she held the keys.
Name of ability: Wandmaker — adult I ability.STATUS: Approved -- Ophelia, 4 Jan
Describe why this fits your character: 1082/400
Reducio
33.8 cm, whippy, maple wood and thestral tail hair.
ACQUISITION; custom made. — 436 words.
After the accident at her job in early 2025, Kitty needed a new start. The decision had been made, and not by, but for her. The job she had aspired towards and loved for years was no longer something she could return to, the travel she grew accustomed to was no longer possible — neither of these would be, at least for a while, until she properly recovered. And her wand, the one she had for fourteen years, mayhaw wood and phoenix father, was broken.
Something within her wand changed. It took concentrated effort to cast even a simple spell, and Kitty could feel that whatever bond she had fostered over the years was different. Perhaps not gone altogether, but severed in an irreparable way. It was only getting worse, charms that used to be second nature suddenly taking multiple tries to work, and only ever producing weaker versions of what they used to be. After much deliberation (and a spell backfiring when she was trying to make tea, causing her kettle to melt), she made the tough decision to put her old wand to rest, and get a new one.
After graduating from Ilvermorny, Kitty attended the prestigious Universita Bianchi di Firenze. She made a great many friends there; people from a variety of different courses, talented young witches and wizards seeking to improve themselves in a manner of subjects. She went to one of them, a woman named Cerise, to get her new wand, knowing that if there was anyone she trusted with the task, it would be her.
The visit was simple. Kitty had fortunately been cleared to walk again, months of physical therapy doing their job, though she still leaned on a cane. She arrived at Cerise’s workshop and was immediately greeted with laughter, jokes about how she looked like an old woman now. The tone was set, and it felt… comfortable. More like a catch up than anything — Kitty and Cerise had been friends. Telling Cerise about… well, everything, had come easy. Comfortable. Like being back on a late night train to Vienna together, before Kitty had even started her apprenticeship. Hours flew by quickly, and she missed Cerise the moment she was back in her London flat.
The second visit came a few weeks later, after Cerise sent Kitty an owl telling her simply “it’s done,” cryptic as always. Kitty readily made her way over to the workshop again, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty curling somewhere beneath her heart. Cerise presented her with Kitty’s new wand there — a smile on her face, a pretty case to go along with it.
CORE; thestral tail hair. — 240/50
Kitty hadn’t feared death for a while now.
Subconsciously, she hadn’t feared much of anything for nearly a decade now. Consciously, this is a rather recent development, one that came after witnessing her curse-breaking partner’s death during the hag attack. Her own mortality hadn’t been at the forefront of her mind, too busy and wrapped up in her new life to focus on a vague, future death— and suddenly, she had to confront it head on, hold it, feel it. She witnessed the fragility of life firsthand, felt that of a friend fade away and leave her fingers with the phantom of warmth — and even months after that, remains aware there was nothing to be done.
Kitty doesn’t fear death, because fear implies, to her, some level of fascination. Of interest and care. A sort of reverence that she refuses to perform. Death can be tragic, death can hurt, and it can be heart-breaking: and in all of it, it is banal. Simple. It insists, pressures, looms over everyone and pretends itself untouchable. Kitty had been too close in her brush against death to believe in that myth. She had seen it in action and known it was only a backfired spell, a misstep away. Her friend died and she survived by pure, dumb luck; she will die by the same unintelligent, ugly kind of chance. Death remains an inevitability she has no reason to bow to before its time.
WOOD; maple. — 200/50
Kitty loved to travel, never one to stay in the same place for too long. She could have said that for the majority of her teens — loving the annual journey from South Carolina to New York, always eager to attend inter-school events — but it really set in after graduation, when she attended the Università Bianchi di Firenze. She lived in the student housing in Florence there, and took to Europe like a fish to water. She made it her goal to visit every single European country within her three years spent at the university, and though she didn’t achieve it, she came decently close. She loved just about every country she had the chance to visit — from big cities to local small towns and villages, and she loved the process of traveling as well. Her weekends were spent with friends at train stations or trying to fit themselves into too small compartments, and she loved every second of it all, delays and detours included. She would be lying if she said her pick of Hogwarts as her next post wasn't influenced by its location in Scotland, which she had only visited in passing during inter-school visits before.
LENGTH; 33.8 cm. — 93/50 words.
Kitty had been a showy person for the vast majority of her life. When she got her first wand, it was quite literal — ballet recitals and beauty pageants, she was used to being on stage. It wasn’t something she particularly adored, then, and though her original wand was on the longer-ish side of average, it still reflected her own feelings of coming short of who she was expected to be. As she’s grown up, though, those feelings no longer defined her — her confidence shines through. She’s unapologetic, bright, and perhaps a little much.
FLEXIBILITY; whippy. — 113/50 words.
Kitty had been flexible all her life. Throughout her years, she had learned to adapt to any curve balls life threw her way. When she was a kid and her schedule was decided by her parents, changes could happen at the drop of a hat, and she quickly learned how to be comfortable with them. As a young adult, she was rather free spirited, always easy-going and ready to go with the flow of wherever train delays took her. Her adaptability also served her well during her time as a curse-breaker, a high stress job that needed her to be able to make quick decisions and adjust to a situation as it developed.
ACQUISITION; custom made. — 436 words.
After the accident at her job in early 2025, Kitty needed a new start. The decision had been made, and not by, but for her. The job she had aspired towards and loved for years was no longer something she could return to, the travel she grew accustomed to was no longer possible — neither of these would be, at least for a while, until she properly recovered. And her wand, the one she had for fourteen years, mayhaw wood and phoenix father, was broken.
Something within her wand changed. It took concentrated effort to cast even a simple spell, and Kitty could feel that whatever bond she had fostered over the years was different. Perhaps not gone altogether, but severed in an irreparable way. It was only getting worse, charms that used to be second nature suddenly taking multiple tries to work, and only ever producing weaker versions of what they used to be. After much deliberation (and a spell backfiring when she was trying to make tea, causing her kettle to melt), she made the tough decision to put her old wand to rest, and get a new one.
After graduating from Ilvermorny, Kitty attended the prestigious Universita Bianchi di Firenze. She made a great many friends there; people from a variety of different courses, talented young witches and wizards seeking to improve themselves in a manner of subjects. She went to one of them, a woman named Cerise, to get her new wand, knowing that if there was anyone she trusted with the task, it would be her.
The visit was simple. Kitty had fortunately been cleared to walk again, months of physical therapy doing their job, though she still leaned on a cane. She arrived at Cerise’s workshop and was immediately greeted with laughter, jokes about how she looked like an old woman now. The tone was set, and it felt… comfortable. More like a catch up than anything — Kitty and Cerise had been friends. Telling Cerise about… well, everything, had come easy. Comfortable. Like being back on a late night train to Vienna together, before Kitty had even started her apprenticeship. Hours flew by quickly, and she missed Cerise the moment she was back in her London flat.
The second visit came a few weeks later, after Cerise sent Kitty an owl telling her simply “it’s done,” cryptic as always. Kitty readily made her way over to the workshop again, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty curling somewhere beneath her heart. Cerise presented her with Kitty’s new wand there — a smile on her face, a pretty case to go along with it.
CORE; thestral tail hair. — 240/50
Kitty hadn’t feared death for a while now.
Subconsciously, she hadn’t feared much of anything for nearly a decade now. Consciously, this is a rather recent development, one that came after witnessing her curse-breaking partner’s death during the hag attack. Her own mortality hadn’t been at the forefront of her mind, too busy and wrapped up in her new life to focus on a vague, future death— and suddenly, she had to confront it head on, hold it, feel it. She witnessed the fragility of life firsthand, felt that of a friend fade away and leave her fingers with the phantom of warmth — and even months after that, remains aware there was nothing to be done.
Kitty doesn’t fear death, because fear implies, to her, some level of fascination. Of interest and care. A sort of reverence that she refuses to perform. Death can be tragic, death can hurt, and it can be heart-breaking: and in all of it, it is banal. Simple. It insists, pressures, looms over everyone and pretends itself untouchable. Kitty had been too close in her brush against death to believe in that myth. She had seen it in action and known it was only a backfired spell, a misstep away. Her friend died and she survived by pure, dumb luck; she will die by the same unintelligent, ugly kind of chance. Death remains an inevitability she has no reason to bow to before its time.
WOOD; maple. — 200/50
Kitty loved to travel, never one to stay in the same place for too long. She could have said that for the majority of her teens — loving the annual journey from South Carolina to New York, always eager to attend inter-school events — but it really set in after graduation, when she attended the Università Bianchi di Firenze. She lived in the student housing in Florence there, and took to Europe like a fish to water. She made it her goal to visit every single European country within her three years spent at the university, and though she didn’t achieve it, she came decently close. She loved just about every country she had the chance to visit — from big cities to local small towns and villages, and she loved the process of traveling as well. Her weekends were spent with friends at train stations or trying to fit themselves into too small compartments, and she loved every second of it all, delays and detours included. She would be lying if she said her pick of Hogwarts as her next post wasn't influenced by its location in Scotland, which she had only visited in passing during inter-school visits before.
LENGTH; 33.8 cm. — 93/50 words.
Kitty had been a showy person for the vast majority of her life. When she got her first wand, it was quite literal — ballet recitals and beauty pageants, she was used to being on stage. It wasn’t something she particularly adored, then, and though her original wand was on the longer-ish side of average, it still reflected her own feelings of coming short of who she was expected to be. As she’s grown up, though, those feelings no longer defined her — her confidence shines through. She’s unapologetic, bright, and perhaps a little much.
FLEXIBILITY; whippy. — 113/50 words.
Kitty had been flexible all her life. Throughout her years, she had learned to adapt to any curve balls life threw her way. When she was a kid and her schedule was decided by her parents, changes could happen at the drop of a hat, and she quickly learned how to be comfortable with them. As a young adult, she was rather free spirited, always easy-going and ready to go with the flow of wherever train delays took her. Her adaptability also served her well during her time as a curse-breaker, a high stress job that needed her to be able to make quick decisions and adjust to a situation as it developed.
STATUS: Approved -- Ophelia, 4 Jan
Ability Applications
Link to your encyclopedia thread: Ency here!
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Charmer
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
This fits Jada because she’s an only child and is a little bit spoiled and used to getting her way. Entering Hogwarts, she has learned that she cannot choose the way everything goes but still takes advantage of the small opportunities that there are. Having this ability would enable her to get her way without always having the best or strongest reason to. I believe it would also make her fit the Slytherin characteristics better as she can stop people getting in the way of her goals and use it to stand out in a crowd instead of blending painfully into the background.
Not only this, Jada has also developed a desire for outside validation from peers and older personas. Since her personality failed to be remarkable in any way, she turned to other strategies. She began to look more closely at people’s body language and the psychological aspects of being noticed. By watching how others talked to each other, reacted to comments or jokes, she was able to refine her own skills in the matter. She learned more about social cues and dynamics, when was someone uncomfortable, bored or annoyed, and how to react accordingly.
Following the lead of older students at her previous school, she has learned how to use her looks to her advantage, especially considering her chocolate coloured skin and striking green eyes, a feature rare enough on its own let alone in the UK. Her looks can make her stand out anywhere but can also startle people when first meeting her, making them have to look twice. Her usually quiet personality contrasts this greatly, leading her to disappear once the initial jolt has passed. Her inadequacy with cosmetics is made up for her agility when manipulating her hair which, she believes, is just as important when creating the 'perfect' look.
Jada buries her emotions, often hiding it when she feels upset or sad so as not to make herself seem weak in front of other students or teachers. She often relies on using her charm or humor to distract from what she actually feels or thinks. If a grade or outcome is disappointing, a joke about it or a comment can help draw away any unnecessary attention. In a way she hides from her own emotions, scared of what might happen if she were to let it all wash over her, if it becomes too much to bear. Obviously, this isn’t healthy and leads her to, sometimes, make rash decisions without having thought them through.
Jada Blake - Hogwarts Beauxbâtons - Kira Orlova
Sta 8│Eva 7│Str 3│ Sta 5│Eva 2│Str 8│
Wis 7│ArcP 6│Acc 4 Wis 7│ArcP 2│Acc 6
Name of Ability that you Are Applying for: Charmer
Describe why this fits your character (not why you the player want it):
This fits Jada because she’s an only child and is a little bit spoiled and used to getting her way. Entering Hogwarts, she has learned that she cannot choose the way everything goes but still takes advantage of the small opportunities that there are. Having this ability would enable her to get her way without always having the best or strongest reason to. I believe it would also make her fit the Slytherin characteristics better as she can stop people getting in the way of her goals and use it to stand out in a crowd instead of blending painfully into the background.
Not only this, Jada has also developed a desire for outside validation from peers and older personas. Since her personality failed to be remarkable in any way, she turned to other strategies. She began to look more closely at people’s body language and the psychological aspects of being noticed. By watching how others talked to each other, reacted to comments or jokes, she was able to refine her own skills in the matter. She learned more about social cues and dynamics, when was someone uncomfortable, bored or annoyed, and how to react accordingly.
Following the lead of older students at her previous school, she has learned how to use her looks to her advantage, especially considering her chocolate coloured skin and striking green eyes, a feature rare enough on its own let alone in the UK. Her looks can make her stand out anywhere but can also startle people when first meeting her, making them have to look twice. Her usually quiet personality contrasts this greatly, leading her to disappear once the initial jolt has passed. Her inadequacy with cosmetics is made up for her agility when manipulating her hair which, she believes, is just as important when creating the 'perfect' look.
Jada buries her emotions, often hiding it when she feels upset or sad so as not to make herself seem weak in front of other students or teachers. She often relies on using her charm or humor to distract from what she actually feels or thinks. If a grade or outcome is disappointing, a joke about it or a comment can help draw away any unnecessary attention. In a way she hides from her own emotions, scared of what might happen if she were to let it all wash over her, if it becomes too much to bear. Obviously, this isn’t healthy and leads her to, sometimes, make rash decisions without having thought them through.
STATUS: Pending -- Ophelia, 12 Jan
We require 400 words for an ability application, and yours is currently 87 words.
STATUS: Approved, Jake - January 19
Last edited by Jada Blake on 16 Jan 2026, 09:38, edited 1 time in total.
Jada Blake - Hogwarts Beauxbâtons - Kira Orlova
Sta 8│Eva 7│Str 3│ Sta 5│Eva 2│Str 8│
Wis 7│ArcP 6│Acc 4 Wis 7│ArcP 2│Acc 6