A heavy frost has descended on the castle, looking more like snow has fallen than anything. Yet by midmorning, the frost has melted off leaving quite a muddy trek for anyone heading down to CoMC. The wind is dreadfully chilly so don't forget your house scarf if you're heading out anywhere farther than the castle. Even the lake is beginning to show tinges that winter is rapidly approaching.
Accepted Profile Example--StudentsWhat is your character's full name? Neville Longbottom Played by: jsarm9
Give a physical description of your character:
There is something about Neville Longbottom that is remarkably forgettable. He is an average 5’10” tall and lives constantly with the image of “that chubby boy” that he acquired in his childhood and adolescent years. He has recently thinned out a bit, but he still retains his soft appearance. Unlike other boys his age who have begun taking conscious measures to build up their musculature, Neville never exercises and has flabby, undefined muscles.
Like the rest of his body, Neville’s feminine face has a certain undefined quality about it. He has his mother’s unnaturally round face, which is filled out by high cheekbones and a softly curving jaw line. His forehead and short, dark eyebrows are covered by his rich brown hair, which his gran always cuts in an unflattering ‘bowl’ hairstyle. His long, thin nose is red a great deal of the time and he is constantly rubbing it, a nervous habit. He has a small, plump mouth, which rests in a solemn pout. His skin is clear and, even at sixteen, he presents a child-like aura of trust and simple understanding.
Describe his/her personality:
Neville has changed a lot as he has grown and matured throughout his years. He presents a nervous appearance to most people and almost always seems to be embarrassed about one thing or another. He blushes and stammers when put on the spot by his teachers and some unfriendly students. However, behind his nervous ticks, Neville manages to display a certain sort of bravery. He is a loyal friend, but will not allow himself to be taken advantage of. He will readily confront someone he feels is not doing what is “right”, and Neville has very strong convictions as to what “right” means.
Having suffered the effects of The Dark Lord’s power first-hand, Neville understands what his re-emergence means and stands strongly in the fight against him. He will not surrender his belief in the hope that Harry Potter afforded the wizarding world when he defeated The Dark Lord for the first time.
Neville is patient, and will work hard at a task for hours until he can perfect the desired result. He shows very strong tendencies towards herbology and is sometimes teased as being Professor Sprout’s favorite student. For the most part though, his other schoolwork does not come naturally and requires diligence on his part to get through. And he does get through it.
Inherently, Neville wants to help people. He goes out of his way to make younger students feel comfortable at school, especially because of the tumultuous things that have been happening lately. He is a protector, trying to shelter people from the hardships he has suffered.
Explain his/her history:
Seventeen years ago, at the end of July, a boy was born to two very powerful wizards who had three-times defied The Dark Lord. He was born in the quaint seaside town of Blackpool in England into a large group of excited, extended relations. Frank Longbottom and his wife Alice were the family favorites. They had gained high reputations as aurors in the wizarding world and were not only well-educated and sophisticated, but also friendly and genuinely likeable people. Everyone loved them; they loved their son too, by default.
However, the times were not so loving to him. The Dark Lord was, at the time of Neville’s birth, at the height of his powers. He was murdering with frenzy, and Frank and Alice were kept busy, fighting him and his followers. There was little time to be spent with their new infant. Then, on Halloween night, when Neville was a year old, the most extraordinary and unexpected event happened. The Dark Lord had been defeated! By a child; by a child just a few days younger than Neville. Most of the wizarding world rejoiced. Owls zoomed across Europe, wearing themselves out until they could barely fly anymore. People celebrated with firecrackers and shooting stars. Neville’s parents didn’t have the opportunity to celebrate yet. They believed, as did most of their fellow aurors, that although He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had lost his powers, he was still alive, and they set out to find him.
They tracked him far across Europe, while their coworkers tried to round up as many of the leaderless Death Eaters as they could. Of course, to capture all of them was impossible and a small group of The Dark Lord’s closest followers were tracking the Longbottoms. These crazed men and women wanted to find their Dark Lord. They were his most loyal. Eventually, they caught up with Frank and Alice – and they tried to extract from them the whereabouts of their ‘master.’ The cruciatus curse was placed upon them and it was under this most unbearable pain that Neville’s parents were tortured to insanity. Luckily, or unluckily, they were rescued. They were alive, but their minds barely contained traces of the remarkable people they once were.
Back at home in Blackpool, the family mourned. Some loudly, and others not so loudly. Frank’s mother (Neville’s Gran) raised his only child. She had a stern countenance, but it was clear that she loved her grandson a great deal. She had perhaps been more affectionate with her son, her favorite person, but his son was a part of him – even if he seemed to be failing to live up to his father’s image.
Neville did not show a lot of signs of magic in his early years. In fact, the family speculated that he might be a squib. Although that thought pained his gran she never made any attempts to push the young boy into magic unnecessarily. If he was a squib, he was a squib, and while he certainly wasn’t his father, he was a good boy. Her brother Algie, however, had a different approach to the matter. He was constantly shoving Neville into dangerous situations, hoping that under the pressure of death, he would demonstrate some sort of magic. This frightened his sister very much. She was terrified of losing her son’s child, and scolded her younger brother constantly. Still, whenever he had the chance, Algie made attempts to provoke Neville into magic. And one day, he did, although it was unintentional. When Neville was eight, his uncle Algie dropped him right out of an upstairs window and just when he began to realize the seriousness of what he’d done, Neville bounced. He bounced! He bounced clear out of garden under the window and down the gravel-strewn road. The Longbottoms were thrilled! Not only had he not died, he did indeed possess magic. Perhaps he was his father’s son after all.
Any lingering doubts as to whether or not Neville had magical powers were dispelled when, in the summer before his eleventh birthday, Neville received his letter from Hogwarts. Once again, the family celebrated. He was even given a present of a toad by Uncle Algie. However, it was his gran’s present that he treasured. From one of the many musty trunks that lived in various corners of the Longbottom house, she extracted a small set of schoolbooks. They had been Neville’s father’s when he had attended Hogwarts. Some of them were on his own school list. Although neither of them showed any emotion over the books (they had been casually handed to him, and he had casually placed them in his room) Neville was pleasantly embarrassed by his grandmother’s gesture. It was when she did things like that, that he understood how much she loved him.
Summer soon ended and it was time for Neville to board the Hogwarts Express and begin his first year at the renowned school. He was more visibly scared that he had ever been. It was his first time leaving home; it was his first time leaving his grandmother. He spent most of the train ride near tears searching for his new toad, Trevor, who seemed to have no desire to stay with him.
At the school, when they were to finally begin the sorting, Neville was beyond just edgy and nervous. But when his name was called, he somehow managed to make his way towards the hat and get it over his head. Once it began to talk, he calmed down considerably. And it talked for an awfully long time. It talked first about his parents. They had been in Gryffindor. Then it talked about Neville himself, musing over his various qualities. Finally, it made the comparison that no one had made before. It told him that he was as brave as his father had been. Neville was sorted into Gryffindor.
The school term was a hard one for the eleven year old. He had a poor memory and both his spell and bookwork were fairly abysmal. However, he had a certain knack for Herbology and was able to produce magnificent results that no one seemed to notice. He didn’t make a lot of friends in his first year either, and was mercilessly teased by Draco Malfoy and his buddies. He got along with the boys in his year, and was somewhat chummy with Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasely, but he was not as closely associated with them as they were with each other. And perhaps it was this that gave him the ability to defy the three when, at the end of the year, they set to sneak out of the common room once again. He knew they shouldn’t. He knew they had been instructed not to leave. He made a brave stand for what he believed to be the right thing. And he then received a nasty shock. Hermione Granger put him into a body bind. He had no control over his body at all. It was a terrible paralysis. However, at the end of term feast, when Dumbledore publicly acknowledged Neville’s brave stand he had made against his friends, Neville understood the importance of his behavior and experience. He forgave Hermione.
The next year, Neville had high expectations for school. He was happy to be returning. It was a terrifying shock when it was found that the chamber of secrets had been opened. He listened carefully, with a scared mind, to the gossip that swept the school. Harry Potter was the main suspect, but, even while Harry’s supposed enemies were being petrified, Neville stood by him. It was Harry who had defeated The Dark Lord, and Neville would never believe that someone whose family had been destroyed as his had, would do anything that would put himself on that dark path. He displayed a quiet confidence as he stood up to accusing Slytherins with soft-spoken support for his housemate. At the end of the term, Harry Potter had once again saved the day, and Neville relieved and grateful. He felt that so long as Harry Potter was around, he was safe, and perhaps the wizarding world would have a chance.
It seemed as though things were becoming increasingly more dangerous with each passing year, but Neville’s gran sent him faithfully back to Hogwarts, amid the patrolling dementors. Sirius Black, a man who had murdered thirteen muggles in broad daylight had escaped from the inescapable prison. Neville was beyond terrified. Whenever in the presence of dementors (as on the train and at Hogsmeade) he felt the incredible loneliness of having not quite lost both his parents. Everything he did that year, he did out of a nervous fear. He forgot things even more than usual. He forgot his homework and could barely retain anything he was taught in class. He even forgot his passwords to the Gryffindor common room, and eventually had to scribble them down on a scrap of parchment in able to stop getting locked out every evening. He regretted this immensely. He had dropped the paper one afternoon, and it had been retrieved by none other than Sirius Black, who used it to enter the common room. He used the passwords Neville had had to write down out of his own stupidity to enter the third year’s boys’ dormitory to attack Harry Potter. An awful, sinking feeling of self-hate stayed with Neville throughout the rest of the year. Even at the end of the year, when Harry had made a bit of an attempt to explain that it wasn’t his fault, Neville couldn’t shake it.
In his fourth year, Neville was unable to exhibit the sort of excitement the other students were about the TriWizard Tournament. He still felt stupid and depressed. His enthusiasm for the choice of Harry Potter as school champion was no match for that depression. The year dragged on uneventfully. His grades were below average, and even in herbology, he wasn’t doing very well. He watched the TriWizard tasks with a certain detachment. Even the horrific events at the end of the year did little to bring him back into himself. Cedric’s death was just one more terror. Dumbledore’s short explanation. When he recounted the story back at home to his gran, she began a busy process of informing and convincing as many people as she could of The Dark Lord’s return. Neville was, for the most part, left out of this business. He spent a great deal of his summer time in the St. Mungo’s ward where his parents resided, staring into their empty eyes.
The following term, Neville’s gran had to force him to return to school. She was worried about his listlessness but could do little to help him at home. She felt the best thing to do would be to send him back into the protection of Dumbledore. It was much safer, too. The beginning of the year looked as if it would be much like the previous one. However, a call to action made by Harry Potter and Hermione Granger did something to Neville’s thinking. He began to care, and he began to feel as if he was contributing to the noblest fight he could be. He joined the secret Defense Against the Dark Arts club, “Dumbledore’s Army.” At first his spell work was extremely behind the others, but with his re-found determination, Neville began to improve - steadily. Soon enough, he could smash objects against walls with a flick of his wand, disarm his classmates, and produce a true patronus - silvery, shaggy dog (the same as his father’s had been). When Harry Potter needed desperately to get to the Ministry of Magic to save his godfather, Neville knew he would be a capable companion.
In the battle that ensued in the department of mysteries, Neville was given the opportunity to prove his abilities, and he did. He fought full-grown highly trained Death Eater’s and received only a bloody nose in the process. He bravely helped protect the more damaged of his friends, and showed no sign of fear. In the face of death, Neville had demonstrated, not only strong magical ability, but also the compassion and bravery of his parents. Neville Longbottom was indeed his father’s son.
What year? Sixth Which house would your character prefer? Gryffindor Why? Neville possesses a graceful sort of unassuming bravery. He supports his friends and his ideals through all sorts of adversary and at the sake of his own comfort. He is not afraid to sacrifice himself to a greater cause and will not be taken out without a fight (physical, or, more often, mental).
Give an example of your role-playing:
Neville stood over his cauldron, the heat from the bubbling substance making him sweat. He had, somehow, managed an O in the O.W.L.s last term in potions (he suspected it had something to do with the absence of Professor Snape) and since he planned on becoming a healer had signed up for his least favorite class. He regretted it now of course. Snape had already emptied his cauldron completely and given him no marks this year for minor mistakes, and Neville wondered what in the world had made him think he could do this.
He set the handle of the giant wooden ladle against the lip of his cauldron and wiped his forehead quickly. He felt sticky and tired from the stuffiness in the dungeons. Quickly, he grabbed his ladle again and resumed stirring. He couldn’t afford to be caught not doing exactly as he was supposed to. His grade was already slipping, despite his best efforts. A brief pause in the stirring couldn’t mess it up terribly, he thought to himself hopefully.
His arms were sore when he had finally finished stirring for the ordained eighteen and a quarter minutes. The potion in his cauldron was thick and a deep green color, almost black. Worriedly, he glanced at the book open on the desk near him. He was relieved to read that it was indeed supposed to look that way. He then grabbed at the dandelion roots he had chopped earlier in the class and dropped them into the brew. They were soon lost in the sweltering mess. He watched it cautiously. Nothing seemed to have changed, and he hoped that was the way it was supposed to be. He didn’t have time to turn the page and check the book. The class was almost over and Snape was making his rounds through the rows of students.
Hastily, Neville poured his potion into a small flask and corked it quickly. He was just in time, as Snape had just passed his desk and emptied his cauldron. With nervously measured steps, he filed behind the other students and set his flask on the professor’s desk. He couldn’t wait to get up and outside where the air would be clean and less suffocating. Edited by: leviOHsa at: 6/26/04 9:01 pm
What is your character's full name? Cliffton 'Cliff' Ferilwid Played By: WildfireFox
Give a physical description of your character:
Cliff has long dark brown hair, down past his shoulders, with the natural gift of Natural curl causing it to curl down at the ends. This however is usually tied back and bound into a Ponytail, giving his hair a pulled back look. His eyes are a light blue, and he's got a thin nose. As for his mouth, his teeth are a little buck, something that would be first noticed if you caught him smiling. His jaw is also somewhat thin, but not in a sick looking way.
He is eleven years old, as well as a bit lean. His ribs poke out of his skin, and are easily noticable, say, if you saw him without a shirt on. His body doesn't seem to have a lot of muscle, except for perhaps his abdominal area and his legs, caused from an riding his bicycle quite a bit to get from spot to spot. But his upper body is thin all together, and rather rawboned.
If he could, he'd wear colourful clothing all the time, but his parents only provided him sparcely with such clothing, rather keeping him with your average white shirt and the like.
Describe his/her personality:
Cliff is somewhat the shy type at first. He wouldn't exactly go out of his way to introduce himself to new people, rather he'd sit back waiting for them to be introduced to him. That's not to say that he'd never would introduce himself, if he saw someone just as shy as himself, then he might introduce himself, after a bit of time at least. However, once he makes a friend, he'll open up a bit more to that person, however he'd still be just as shy around anyone else. He's also a bit clingy towards his friends, a bit protective of them to a degree.
When it comes to authority, he'd always stick to the rules, unless someone convinced him otherwise, weither for fun or perhaps for something more serious. The same rule of thumb of friendship would apply to an authority figure, such as a teacher. If he found a authority figure that he got more attention, in the good way, he'd open a bit up, however, just for them and what friends he had in the classroom. Though, if he ever got caught doing something against a particular rule, he'd even shy from this person.
He often can be found daydreaming when caught in a boring situation, as if trying to escape in the easiest way he could. Whatever he daydreams, he keeps to himself, somewhat secretive in that minor aspect.Though when caught, he'd shy back up, ducking his head a bit trying to hide his embaressment.
Explain his/her history:
He was born unto Thomas, a Warehouse Manager, and Celes, a stay at home mother, both witches on March 5, 1985. Cliffton is the eldest of two children, him being older by Nine years compared to his younger brother, but for the most part he had to grow up without a sibling. Growing up by himself, he had only a few friends, most of which lived a distance away which made it difficult for him to see them except when his parents took him over to their place, or vice versa. He treasured the moments of being with his friends; it didn't happen too often. He had to spend most of time at home, having a careful eye placed upon him by his mother. They lived in town, as it was much easier for his father to get to work and come home. There was an abundance of money, though his parents always saved as much as they could, sometimes putting off a want or a need of the family for a few days... even weeks.
At a young age, his mother decided that Cliffton was to have long hair. Sure, every once in a while he'd get a trim, to look good for a special event, but those trims were few and far between. His father always wanted his hair to be kept short, but in a compromise Cliffton's hair was tied back for the most part, even when he slept. His parents prefered for him to do most of the chores you'd expect, doing the dishes, taking out the garbage and the like, though he never complained about doing it. He actually liked to do the dishes, he liked doing things that he's good at. It was something to do... he didn't care too much for reading, nor hanging out with too many adults. There however, was one exception.
A month after his seventh birthday, a new neighbour moved in next to them. He was an old man, however he seemed to act like a kid. Since Cliffton was almost the only child on his street at the time, he took a quick liking to the old man. He'd spend as much time as he could over at the house, looking at the magical and non magical gizmos alike stored abundantly within the man's walls. It was his escape from his excitement lacking world in his home. Although every time he came over, the man would always ask him the same questions, like how was his parents, he didn't mind talking at all. He was absolutely grateful that he had someone new to hang around with. However, after nearly a year and a half later, his time with his neighbour was cut short. The old man complained that his left hand felt funny... and told Cliff to go fetch his mother. After he told this news to his mom, he was sent to bed much earlier than any night before. The next day, he came downstairs and asked what happened the day before, and he was told that the neighbour had to move away. He didn't exactly understand why... those wonderful gizmos were still in the house. Though saddened... he went back to times back in the house.
It was almost a blessing what came soon after the incident. Three months later, his mother gave birth to a little girl named Elizabeth. As soon as she came around, Cliffton had something more to do at home. Though he didn't do a lot of the 'Baby' stuff, he kept a watchful eye on her. Sure, for the first few months it got a bit tedius, but when he got bored he'd go up to his room and be by himself.
But once more Cliffton had recieved another escape from his house life. Around the time of his eleventh birthday an owl came by. Sure, the owl came by quite a lot, however he never got any messages for himself, until this day. It was an invitation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It seemed that he'd finally be on a journey of his own, away from his home... and his parents.
What year? First year. Which house would your character prefer? Hufflepuff Why? Cliff doesn't have the independance of most others, and is usually shy, rather than being brave. He doesn't really scheme to do things, rather waiting for things to come up in his life. He'd do anything for a friend, as best as he could at least, but would be most hesitant to bring forward a want to a friend. He would prefer to do almost everything with a friend, lacking the resolve to do some things by himself.
Give an example of your role-playing:
It was a long day for Cliff, his work load around the house seemed so much larger than any day before, which was expected with an additional person in the house. He had to sweep all of downstairs, a task most unwelcome to him in particular, but rather expected. He hadn't swept the floors in a week, and after he completed the task there was a noticable improvement. Not only did he have to do that, he had to mop the kitchen, wash the dishes, prepare some food to be cooked, and dust the living room. But with all that behind him now, he sat rather calmly upon his bed, his legs dangling over the side, while he looked out the window which overlooked the family's meager backyard.
"I can't believe I got it all done..." he said after he breathed out a long sigh. "At least I won't have to do much for the next few days."
Cliffton pulled his feet up onto the bed beside him, then put an arm around one of the knees and held it against his chest. His gaze continued to be of that outside... looking over the fence on the far side of the yard, slightly covered in chalk from him playing two days before. The rain had wiped most of the colour away, leaving waves of colour lining near the bottom of the fence giving it a bit of a tye-dye look. He rather much liked the way it looked, it was somewhat like art... if the artist's best canvas was an ugly gray wooden fence, faided by the years.
It wasn't long after his thoughts of the colour began to make him bored. And so he laid back against the light orange bed spread that covered the top of his bed, starring up at the ceiling. Although he was looking at thsi new spot, he knew exactly what was there. A black ceiling with little gold stars painted about on it. Sure, the position of the stars changed every night, and were never like the constalations in the actual sky, but even this could only hold his facination for mere moments. Every day seemed to blur together, how repeatitive it all was.
That was when he heard a slight tapping at his window. Cliff then sat up and looked over... and what other did he see than a owl holding a letter in it's beak. It wasn't adressed to the family... but to him.
This is for Lia Your preferred name: (What can we call you?) Anne How long have you been affiliated with ezBoard? two years How long have you role-played? one year How long have you Harry Potter role-played? one year Code: HANA RR
~About Your Character~
What is your character's full name? Toast Aberdeen Character's age? 17
Give a detailed physical description of your character:
Toast is no pin-up. He has no chiseled features, rock-hard abs, or alluring mystique. In fact, the only way the poor boy ever gets ogled over is by horrid aunts declaring, “look how much you’ve grown!”. And they’re right, of course – the summer before his sixth year, Toast went from being a pretty skinny guy at 5’10” to being a downright beanpole at 6’3”. The growth spurt that was on perpetual holiday finally opened for business in a three-month span, firmly shoving Toast into a gangly, awkward frame. Currently, he measures in at 6’4” and only 145 pounds, a boy-waif. But due to a penchant for terribly manly things (chopping wood, laying bricks, other activities requiring no shirt and very short shorts, and of course Quidditch) and a beyond large appetite (compensated for by one of those miraculously resilient metabolisms that only boys seem to be blessed with) he doesn’t exactly crack any ribs sneezing. But other than very nicely defined calves, Toast has a very thin, boyish figure.
As if to add insult to injury, Toast has that darn Irish blood in him. Naturally fair skinned and freckly, with auburn tresses. Although as he’s grown, the majority of his freckles have receded to his arms and legs, and don’t make much of an appearance on his face unless he’s been doing some serious sunning. Just when one would think that, genetically, he’d already gotten enough of a bad hand. But due to Toast not caring at all what he looks like, he just goes with it. His reddish-brown hair is very thick and naturally curly, though the curls are usually weighed down because he never combs his hair. Not ever. Even a finger-once-through is usually too much of a hassle. He has borderline thick eyebrows, with plenty of strays, but would never consider taming them in the least. His dark brown eyelashes are very thick and long, the kind most girls would kill for – but just like the ability to eat loads and not gain a pound, usually only the male species get to be blessed with the eyelashes that need no mascara. And those envy-inducing lashes get to be in close contact with his beautiful large dark brown eyes. He didn’t get shorted entirely in the gene pool, evidently. Other than that, his nose is standard, his lips a bit on the thin and chapped side, his teeth straight and decently white, but not so much that he would be mistaken for anything other than a British citizen.
As one would figure, Toast is not exactly fashion conscious. It even took him a fair amount of pleading from his mother before he would buy new Hogwarts uniform attire, even after the inseam of his slacks were clearly four or five inches too short. He didn’t look too bad in that whole cropped-pant idea the girls were always going on about, he figured. In fact, playing around with the feminine has always made Toast giggle. Besides the uniforms and wizard wear he has to wear, he loves wearing t-shirts over less-than-matching pants. Instead of jeans, old threadbare slacks, mechanic’s coveralls with the top part unzipped and hanging from his hips, anything else. Just never the expected. And those t-shirts usually sport the humorous, and owing to his skinny frame, often are girl’s shirts, always bought from secondhand thrift stores. Other than serving as a necessity for keeping him not naked, Toast also looks to his clothes for some amusement. But not so camp that he accessorizes to boot. Except for an experiment in self ear piercing (funny enough, followed his first and only experiment with drunken partying), he never wears any jewelry, and sports an oddly slanted scar in his left earlobe rather than any earrings. Other than that, the only distinguishing feature Toast has is a funny shaped freckle next to his navel that looks exactly like a heart – when he’s bored, which is pretty often, he’ll trace around it and give himself a temporary tattoo. Even if it’s not exactly what graces glossy magazines, Toast’s outward appearance matches what’s within – a unique, sunny dispositioned, light hearted young man.
Toast, unwittingly, is one of those people who never fails to surprise – it’s just nearly impossible to get him pegged. He just seems to have a very odd blend of wit, vulnerability, common sense, and buoyancy. He has a very conventional, logical way of looking at the world and how everything has to work, but doesn’t seem to get depressed about it. He is also blessed with a sense of humor, and is often cracking jokes, even in class. He doesn’t take classes all that seriously – he’s not necessarily a smart guy, and has never let that get to him, but he doesn’t try to live up to his potential, limited though it might be.
Toast has a deeper side to him, certainly. His family is extremely important to him – he’s very protective of both his mother and younger sister (who will enter Hogwarts the year after he leaves) and bonds well with his father. He really does find a lot of what has been happening in the world utterly saddening, but finds putting on a happy face a little easier to do than mope constantly about it. But he certainly has his breaking points. More than anything, he really doesn’t appreciate being made fun of. His masculinity and accent seems to be the big button pushers – calling him feminine or mocking his rather thick Scottish accent and use of slang can get him going in a second. But rather than throwing fits, he just gets mopey and bitter. He’s never really had a burst of rage or any physical demonstration of anger, that’s not how he operates.
Toast’s biggest strength and weakness is his passiveness. It’s a very good asset in coming to diplomatic conclusions, and keeps him out of trouble most of the time. But when there is a major conflict, it can make it so he gets stepped over easily and opens him up to get hurt. And Toast gets hurt easily, he’s rather sensitive. Anything of a personal nature (either regarding him or someone close to him) will cut too deeply. His loyalties are also very strong, which too can be damaging – having his trust broken can be devastating.
But it’s important not to stress just his sensitivity. Although he has no use for schoolwork, and usually just lets it slight, he works very hard on anything he enjoys. As said earlier, he likes to work with his hands and get into real physical work, not the mental sort – he just doesn’t like operating mentally or emotionally, finds actual action more useful. Assisting in the actual construction of the latest family restaurant was a lot of fun, and he is also an avid Quidditch fan and hopeful player, and is a rather competent Beater. Being outdoors and in the elements is one of his more favorite places to be.
Toast has a few bad habits and quirks. He can’t sit up straight in class, almost always slouches. His hair, rarely cut, always falls in his eyes and he’s constantly pushing it out of his way or scratching his poor scalp under all the weight of his coif. When nervous, Toast always starts chewing on his nails. And during meals, he always wolfs down an obscene amount in a ridiculously short amount of time and then talks – never eats leisurely. Oh, and owing to his parents, Toast is a hardcore vegetarian and can’t eat any meat. Really, he can’t – meat is now impossible for him to digest, and if he accidentally eats a bit or has some meat-based broth, he spends the next few hours vomiting up a storm.
Give the names of all members of your character's immediate family:
Saul Aberdeen, father (41)
Veruca Aberdeen, mother (40)
Nicolette Aberdeen, sister (10)
Explain his/her history:
Saul Aberdeen and Veruca Bagley were both from Scottish wizarding families, Saul growing up in Glasgow, Veruca in a small town in the country. Saul’s father and mother were business owners, supplying textiles for different wizardwear shops in Great Britain. It wasn’t very glamorous work, like owning one of the boutiques themselves, but it paid bills sufficiently and had enough left over for Saul, their only child, to attend Hogwarts. Veruca, on the other hand, was part of a large and rowdy clan, with four brothers and two sisters, herself somewhere in the middle of it all. Her parents were in fact farmers, preferring a more Muggle way of life, rustic and busy. Money was extremely tight, with six children to feed and educate. But off to Hogwarts Veruca went, a year after Saul’s arrival.
Saul was sorted into Ravenclaw, owing to his keen mind and already blooming business savvy. Veruca, on the other hand, was a Gryffindor, with her bull-headedness and willingness to try anything at least once. Their personalities were destined for a future clash, but it never exactly happened. The two barely ever saw each other, owing to different houses and years, let alone socialized. Veruca didn’t abide much by Ravenclaws, thought they were a little bit too stuffy. So, in that fashion, Saul left Hogwarts after his seventh year without so much as a conversation with his future wife, and returned to Glasgow to live with his parents while he considered his future – he hadn’t figured out much.
But after a few months of helping his folks with their business, it finally hit Saul. Of course, he wanted to open up his own venture, he had for years, but it was something different. He wanted to open a restaurant. So right away, he picked up a part time job as a busboy at a local Muggle dive, and went to culinary school. By the time his aspirations were taking form, Veruca too had returned to Scotland, and was in fact living in Glasgow with friends. One night at a pub, she recognized Saul and the two briefly reminisced, and remained in contact, and soon after began dating. Four years went by, Saul’s restaurant launched, and he and Veruca were living together, her working on the advertising and design, having quite the knack for it. And, she had influenced the menu – Scottish vegetarian cuisine, after her own convictions about animal rights. The opening caused a small buzz, but received only meager business at first, since most hardcore restaurant goers weren’t into anything new or cutting-edge. But armed with a small staff and good bookkeeping skills, Saul wasn’t doing so bad for himself.
Fittingly, Toast was an “oops” baby. The unexpected pregnancy threw Saul and Veruca through a loop, but the two had a small wedding before Veruca was showing and remained in the same small flat they had been sharing for some time. When Toast was born, however, nothing seemed to fit. The flat was too small, there wasn’t enough money or time to fit into a day. It took some time, and a hefty loan, before they purchased a small house and were back on their feet. Now, about the name – although the couple was certainly a little odd, especially with Veruca’s earth loving tendencies, no one really expected such a name to result. But in light of their hope of future success, they named their son in tribute – as in a toast to their future, not to butter and eat. Saul had some misgivings about naming a child that, but Veruca was so insistent – after all, she had a unique name, and she loved it – that he allowed it.
Toast was a good kid. A bit on the hyper, destructive side, but not anything terrible. The only thing that seemed to be off was that he showed absolutely no signs of magical ability. At Veruca’s insistence, he attended a Muggle primary school to get his basic education, and surprisingly, he persisted to be completely mundane. When Toast got upset, he got sulky, he didn’t make anything move or blow up. By the time Toast was nearly seven, Saul had an idea to try and cultivate a wizard side out of the boy, but again they were thrown off course – Veruca was pregnant, again. She certainly had inopportune timing, again. But now, the restaurant was well equipped with both regulars and trendsetters, so things were less stressful than the first pregnancy. The guest room was easily transformed into a nursery, and Nicolette was born. She was quite lovely, and everyone in the family was taken with her, and the next few years were busy ones.
By the time Toast was eleven, Saul and Veruca had decided that their son was certainly a Squib, and they reluctantly resigned themselves to the fact. He was enrolled into a Muggle school for the next year, and the parents had decided amongst themselves not to mention the fact that it would have been his first Hogwarts year, if he had the abilities. No use in making him feel bad, of course, he already felt somewhat of a dunce. But then, surprisingly, a Hogwarts letter came for him, and relief was tangible. He might not have showed it, but Toast was still a wizard, somewhere deep down. They cancelled his registration for the other school and got him all ready to go.
Besides it being a school, Toast liked Hogwarts from the start. Everything was new and interesting, and big enough to get constantly lost in, qualities which he loved. And most of the people weren’t half bad, either. Since he had shown absolutely no aptitude for most of his studies before arrival, his first year was a natural struggle, before he realized his strengths, in about his third year. Things had always taken quite awhile to sink in, so it didn’t seem that disastrous to the chronic optimist. After the commencement of his second year, it was clear that the famous Harry Potter’s arrival marked a definite change in the school. Though he was sometimes one of the last to hear about the events Potter got himself involved in, he still found it rather shocking, amazing, and distressing.
The last two years were the roughest for Toast. Cedric Diggory’s death was certainly a rough blow. Toast had never before lost someone that he considered a friend, even if it wasn’t a close friend. Cedric also represented something that the Hufflepuffs usually didn’t have – a handsome, enigmatic athlete who created a buzz throughout the school – and he had died, supposedly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. And then to top that tragedy off, his sixth year was a disaster, with Dolores Umbridge as reigning dictator of Hogwarts school. When the Weasley Twins made their triumphant exit, Toast too entertained ideas of leaving the school. But there wasn’t much to come home to anymore.
The restaurant had indeed flourished in Glasgow, and the summer before his sixth year his parents decided to make a second attempt in London. Though for a time there was a lot of travel back and forth, Saul ended up renting out a flat above the restaurant and moved in – by himself. The marriage was under a significant amount of strain with work getting Saul’s better interests, and Veruca remaining at home with Nicolette, home schooling her. Toast lived with his father for a time, since the two had more in common, but found it difficult to assimilate to life in a new city and moved back to Glasgow midway through the summer, taking trains every so often to visit his father. It was the same routine for this past summer, and some emotional strain is evident in Toast as he entered his seventh year, as the restaurant opening seemed to also be the commencement of a trial separation.
Wand Type: 13” cedar, unicorn tail hair core Blood Type: a mutt – family tree full of both wizards and Muggles
Student's Year: 7th Which house would your character prefer? Hufflepuff Why? Toast is a unique guy, and although he lacks some of the more prominent qualities of typical Hufflepuffs (you know, that whole “unafraid of toil” bit as it comes to school) he makes up for it in his loyalty and off-beat sweet personality. Although oftentimes wary to let someone in as a true friend, he actually does take his position seriously and makes sure those he cares about are taken care of.
Give an example of your role-playing:
It was a Saturday, and Toast woke up promptly at his usual time, two in the afternoon. He had stayed up exceptionally late playing Exploding Snap and giggling his little head off. But it wasn’t his usual body clock waking him up, it was something else entirely. Marigold, the family owl, must have gotten tired of swooping around at breakfast, waiting for the addressee to show, and instead went to his bed.
“’Lo, Mari,” Toast grumbled, his voice raspy from all the sleep. “Got anything for me?”
The owl hooted its reply, which almost seemed disgruntled, if a barn owl could manage that. Marigold landed abruptly on one of the bedposts, dropping the small package on the mattress.
“Sweets!” Toast cried happily, enjoying the little waver that his voice achieved, still in its sleepy stupor. Indeed, his mum had sent along a miniature carrot cake with her special recipe icing, which was the best thing Toast had probably ever tasted. But along with it was a note, which he looked at with some dread. Probably something depressing that would make him feel all guilty for not being at home with all of them. Right as he was about to tear open the envelope, one of his fellow classmates bounded in, and Toast gratefully abandoned his bed, forgetting all about the dismal arrival of post as he headed off to the kitchens to see if he could nick some food.
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