Age: 14
Race: Seer

A preface for the following description: Keiran ‘Kei’ Kith is Non-binary, and they go by they/him pronouns interchangeably. He won’t have discovered his gender identity yet until he settles amongst their peers, noticing the differences between him and other ‘boys’ and ‘girls’ their age. So initially, he’ll be going by he/him pronouns until he comes out to you. If that’s too difficult, referring to Kei with they/them pronouns is also correct. Oh- and Kei is pronounced ‘Key’, not ‘Kay’.

Family History:

Despite his roots tracing back to the west coast of Scotland, Kieran comes to Hogwarts from his Edwardian-style home in Leigh Woods, Bristol, where he was homeschooled and raised by his strict and authoritarian grandmother, Eilidh Murray.

Stern and overly critical, Eilidh retired from her work as a law enforcement worker for the Ministry of Magic to raise her daughter, Kieran’s mother, Isla. Curious about the Wizarding World and suffocated by Ellidh’s conservative nature, which limited her magical expression, Isla Murray ran away from home and eloped with her boyfriend, Ewan Kith, at the age of 18 after finishing her 7th year at Hogwarts with outstanding grades on her N.E.W.T.s Exams.

Isla’s free spirit refused to be institutionalised like her Mother’s was, instead running off to join a circus group called ‘Lumos’ with a few other friends she’d made in Hogwarts as an adept fortune teller. Months after she and Evan had parted ways, she gave birth to Keiran, the young boy spending his formative years nestled between cushions where he was hidden behind the curtains of Isla’s fortune-telling tent.

Despite her best efforts to keep him, Isla realised that the circus wasn’t the best place to keep her son, instead returning with her tail between her legs to Ellidh’s doorstep, leaving two-year-old Keiran in her care, much to her mother’s dissatisfaction.

Physical Appearance:

What might’ve been worse for Ellidh was how Keiran looked almost exactly like his mother, his baby blues shifting a honey brown as they grew older, thick dark hair pouring over his shoulders in waves, freckles speckling his skin.

Except for his poliosis, which he must’ve inherited from his father, causing the birthmarks that stretched along his skin and the white streaks in his hair, they were Isla’s spitting image. These are a result of genetic inheritance, not magic.

Though the child grew up with the dire need to conceal these features—with his hair kept in a beanie and his collar constantly adjusted —their grandmother never saw these traits as necessary to remove, and so they remain unchanged by any magical means.

With naturally broad shoulders and a stance that somewhat resembles a lamppost, Keiran stands at 4’8 at 11 - another trait he obtained from his father, Isla and Eilidh barely reaching 4’5.

Personality:

Homeschooled by his overly critical grandmother, who picked and prodded at anything within reach, Keiran grew to be fast on his feet and witty. There’s always a sharp, spry response at the tip of their tongue, and like their mother, is never the type to go down without a fight.

At least, he wouldn’t be if it weren’t for the fact that he always seemed to lack the momentum necessary to bite back, his words never seeming to move past the back of their teeth.

This reluctance may often be interpreted as pacifism, with Keiran coming across as timid - a person of few words. To him, it’s more of a quiet strength that he possesses, the ability to keep his plans and ideas close to his chest.

Practically living most of their life in their head, they look at the world through a lens of scepticism, cynical by nature. However, their inner critique has been and will always be hardest on himself.

Growing up isolated, with no one close to share his inner world with, Keiran developed a penchant for putting his thoughts on paper and has a terrible habit of keeping his shoulders hunched and his jaw wound, sometimes finding himself forgetting to breathe when he’s engrossed in what he’s working on.

Short stories, poetry, oodles and oodles of doodles- they knew how to keep themself busy as a child. Give Kei unlimited paper and inks, and he’ll be content for life.

First Instance Of Magic:

Ellidh Murray’s style of parenting was Authoritarian, to say the least. To her, it was a way of building character, of instilling discipline in young Kieran that she felt she’d failed to do in Isla. The child never spoke back, anyway; it- was easy. To tell him what he was doing wrong, to set him straight, on the right path.

But there had been one day. One day- where. He’d lashed out. Which was never like him- she couldn’t even quite remember what she’d said- what he’d said.

Just a vague mention from there of Keiran’s mother and then- all the books in the drawing room tumbling down upon them, a shout so loud it’d made both of their ears ring for minutes after.

He was only eight years old- sometimes she forgot. The child was so terrified when it happened that he ran upstairs and slept without dinner. An outburst like that never happened again, and Ellidh was sure to keep Isla’s name out of her mouth in the future.

~More on Keiran~

As any child living in the magical world would, Keiran Kith comes from a somewhat convoluted background. The Murrays, from his mother's side, have carried the Seer gene for centuries, allowing them to see into the future and interpret signs and omens. The oldest Seer in their family traces back to Cameron Murray, a naming seer who once resided on the Isle of Skye.

His descendants scattered from their homes across the Scottish border in the late 1500s as they sought an escape from the uproar of witch trials throughout the region. They even settled as far south as Bristol, with Elidih's great-something grandparents building her home in an abandoned patch of land in Leigh Woods in the late 1800s.

The Murray Manor still stands as tall as ever today, a testament to the family's resilience. Every child reared under its roof is raised to be sharp, quick-witted and cunning- all the skills they attributed to their bloodline's survival throughout the Dark Ages. Whilst not every Murray may have necessarily turned out a seer, it was a family tradition to ingrain and hone their ability to fine-tune their intuition, go with their gut, and see the world for exactly what it is—a cesspit.

Elidih and Isla were no exception. Elidih moulded Isla in her image with a refined sense of cynicism: she’d become an embodiment of deception and contrarianism, a force of nature. It was a wonder how Elidih hadn't seen it backfiring from a mile away, her daughter landing herself in Slytherin before the sorting hat could so much as settle atop her wild mane of hair.

Grades were never the problem; bless her, but that mouth. If the prim Brits of the south hadn't seen a Scottish woman with a temper go off before, they sure did then; Isla wandering after every whim and wish within her grasp, clasping it with both hands lest her impulses and her ambitions consume her from within before they came to fruition.

One such ambition was Ewan Kith, the pretty Ravenclaw boy with mild manners in her Divination class. He was a mystery—a puzzle. A quiet kid who knew too much not to be helpful, she set her sights on him and only him. Ewan himself was a seer, much to her interest, and the two bonded over betting whose foresight was more accurate.

Little is known about the exact origins of the Kith family; their elusive and enigmatic nature is a testament to their skilful dedication to their craft. Secrecy. Characterised by their speckled skin and blanched hair, the Kiths have always been known to deal in secrets, to be brokers of the future, and keepers of the unknown. If you wanted to dig up old bones or new prophecies, they were the people to go to.

For young Ewan, however, watching Isla ramble was just for the simple joy of listening—he even found her spontaneous rants entertaining. The boy had gotten used to his sixth sense, which accounts for most surprises in life, but she was unpredictable. Whether it was tassology or chiromancy, they sat side by side, debating, teasing, and bonding over their shared sense of intuition, their connection growing stronger with each shared moment - and the rest was history.

But the spell had to break eventually.

Elidih was left to tidy up Isla's mess, taking Keiran in after they realised they had bitten more off than they could chew. Running off to join the circus, of all places, what were they thinking?

Alas, the wain had become Elidih’s burden to bear, and what was done was- well. Done. Whatever became of her daughter or ex-husband, she’d be sure to get it right with young Keiran, clasping his frail hands in hers when he arrived at her doorstep, cold, shivering, and confused. She’d raise him to be more intelligent, wiser, more- cautious. By any means necessary, she would not allow her grandchild what Isla did: unadulterated freedom.

From that fateful night onward, Keiran became Elidih's passion project. His mornings rose with the sun, his days meticulously scheduled, and his nights monitored to ensure that lights were out by eight—

No detail went unnoticed. For a time, total silence had befallen the estate, with whatever free time Kei would scrap together spent doodling and dawdling. Elidih never batted a lash at his hobbies; she supposed every child needed a pass-time. It kept him quiet. Occupied.

The only peculiar thing about his drawing was how mundane it was. Boring, even. She’d bought the boy a set of crayons for his fifth birthday, which he’d decidedly left untouched apart from the blacks and greys. He’d draw the rain, even when the sun was shining- the sun, even when the downpour outside gave way to pelts of hail and thunder. It was odd. Keiran was an odd, bizarre child.

Still, she didn’t bother to question it.

Until one day, she’d laid eyes on a drawing of a man behind the door, and before she could comment, a brisk knock made itself known from outside.

“Staring is rude, child.” she sighed, shutting the door. “It’s just a lost muggle. Come on, tea time.”

Odd. Odd. Keiran.

UwU

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TRUNK
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sta 5• eva 5• str 5• wis 10 • arc 10 • acc 5

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Seer
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The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men
Gang aft agley

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CODE BY DRAVEN MIRADOR