Post by harryjamespotter on Jul 22, 2011 3:20:50 GMT -5
HARRY JAMES POTTER
[/font]IS GONNA BE TOTALLY AWESOME ![/color][/font]
define your meaning of war, to me it's what we do when we're bored-i feel the
heat coming off of the black top and it makes me want it more, because i'm hyped up
outta control, if it's a fight i'm ready to go, i wouldn't put my money on the other guy if you
know what i know that i know.
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OH, JUST GIVE THEM ALL B-'s AND BE DONE WITH IT!
NOW THAT'S EVIL. YEAH THANKS, I AM THE DARK LORD[/color][/font]
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AGE/DOB: 15, July 31st, 1980
YEAR: Fifth
HOUSE: Gryffindor
AFFILIATION: The Order of the Phoenix
SEXUALITY: Hetero[/SIZE]
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[/color][/font]GOYLE, WHO DO YOU THINK IS THE UGLIEST
GIRL IN SCHOOL? HMM... OH, BUCKBEAK, FOR SURE[/color][/font]
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EYE DETAILS: Green-the most prominent feature his mother gave him
HEIGHT/WEIGHT/BUILD: Short and thin, often accused by Molly Weasley of not eating enough--which, to be fair, he never does with the Dursleys. His frame is wrapped in lean muscle from years of playing as the Gryffindor team's Seeker
FACE: Pale, dotted with stubble. His eyes are more frequently graced with dark circles from lack of sleep as the threat from Voldemort's return to power grows greater.
STYLE: Muggle clothing--jeans and tshirt--the typical teenage ensemble.
FEELINGS: Stressed because of the Dark Lord's return and the change in time, but generally cheerful and goodnatured.
PLAYED BY: Daniel Radcliffe[/SIZE]
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[/color][/font]MAN, BACK WHEN I HAD A BODY, OOH. I HAD MAD GAME
WITH THE BITCHES. JUST ASK BELLATRIX LESTRANGE![/color][/font]
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-Quidditch
-His family--adoptive and actual
-Hogwarts
-Defense Against the Dark Arts
-Honeyduke's sweets
-Magic
-Hearing about his parents
-Butterbeer
-His Firebolt
-Hogwarts feasts
-Having a practical application for magic
-Quidditch Season
LOATHES:
-Draco Malfoy
-Death Eaters
-History of Magic and Potions (or more accurately, Snape's attitude)
-Liars
-Stuttering and fumbling in front of girls
-Voldemort
-Bullies
-Umbridge
-The Ministry in general for calling him and Dumbledore insane after Voldemort's return
-Having House Points removed from Gryffindor
-Homework
-Losing - especially when it's in Quidditch or to Slytherin in any way
-His father and his friends for how they acted in school
BOGGART: Dementors are his biggest fear because his fears, especially when he'd first encountered a Dementor, were so great that he was not even able to sustain consciousness around one.
DEMENTOR: Harry's worst memory? Well, it's said that children don't remember anything before they're three years of age, but somehow he manages to remember the night of his mother and father's murder when crossed by a Dementor, and it is his very worst memory.
PATRONUS: His patronus is a stag, and his best memories generally linger around the introduction of magic in his life--flying, casting, meeting his Godfather.
AMORENTIA:
-Spring air after a good rain
-Quidditch leathers and broom polish
-Cinnamon
VERITASERUM:
-He resents being the "Chosen One"
-He feels very bad for Snape
STRENGTHS:
-Very strong flyer
-Compassionate
-Brave
-Noble
-Friendly
WEAKNESSES:
-Stubborn
-Defiant
-Prone to be in the middle of trouble when it goes down
OVERVIEW: Anyone who knew Harry's parents before they died would all agree on one thing: the boy looked exactly like his father save for his mother's green eyes. He's shorter than most male students at five feet seven inches tall, with thin, sinewy muscles built only from playing Quidditch (he would otherwise be just a very skinny teen). His hair is a virtually untameable mess of raven feather locks that he keeps cut midway down his ears or shorter.
Because most of his Muggle clothing, nay all of it, is a collection of oversized and overused hand-me-downs from his obese cousin, Dudley, Harry has always made an effort to rarely be seen outside of his school uniform at Hogwarts. When he does wear the Muggle clothing he has, they're the articles that Hermione had graciously charmed to the proper size for him (for he simply could not cast it without one side being shorter than the other). His glasses, save some proper magical repairs and tweaks, had never changed either. They were the same black rimmed spectacles he'd worn since his First Year at Hogwarts, and he's begun to wonder if he'll ever replace them.
Although sometimes shy and generally inept at relationships with girls, Harry Potter has always had the heart of a lion. He has always stood up for any student he saw being bullied in school, painfully familiar with what it's like to be bullied himself, and when people were in danger--even people he didn't know well or at all--he was always the first to come to their aid, even if that meant putting himself in harm's way as well. And, because of his result-driven manner, he often broke many, many rules to accomplish his goals, which quickly earned him the disapproval of his Professors.
When Harry isn't trying to unravel a mystery that could usually harm or kill people--usually himself--he is a fun loving person. Harry is always quick with jokes or jibes at his friends and eager to drop what he's doing, even homework, for quick pick up games of Quidditch or Wizard's Chess, despite his dreadfully poor skill in the latter. He absolutely despises his fame--being known by every Witch and Wizard in the world for his parents' brutal murdering and his attempted murder--and has always craved a simple, average life. Having near-death experiences nearly every year and a Dark Wizard at one's heels ever since they enroll in Hogwarts certainly would desire a life of less drama and fear.
When Harry was young and bullied on a daily basis, it never struck him that he could have friends--true friends. Not like the cronies that followed his cousin Dudley around or the fans he would once have among Wizards, but true friends he could count on no matter what, and who could always count on him in return. Because of this, Harry has always been grateful and gracious of every friend that he's had at Hogwarts and outside of its walls. Of course these qualities never stopped him from defying every rule or order he saw fit--not, of course, without reason. Well, some of the time. Most of the time his father's own disregard for authority and rules would shine through, and he'd come back to snarky professors and dark wizards alike with mischievous retorts and witty comments.
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[/color][/font]NOT EVERYONE INHERITED ENOUGH MONEY TO
BUY OUT NASA WHEN THEIR PARENTS DIED[/color][/font]
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FATHER: James Charlus Potter, deceased, Auror, Order, Gryffindor
SIBLINGS: NAME, AGE, AFFILIATION, HOUSE
OTHER IMPORTANT FIGURES:
Vernon Dursley, 39, Uncle, Sales
Petunia Dursley, 39, Aunt, Homemaker
Dudley Dursley, 15, Cousin, Student
Charlus Potter, deceased, grandfather
Dorea Black Potter, deceased, grandmother
WEALTH STATUS: Very well off--his parents left him a hefty fortune
BIRTHPLACE: Godric's Hollow
CURRENT RESIDENCE: technically he lives on Privet Drive, but he resides in 12 Grimmauld Place with the Order when not in school
OVERVIEW: Little of Harry's early childhood as a Wizard is known to him. What he knows are accounts from people--witches and wizards--who knew his family in its fledgling state. He was born July 31st, 1980 in his family home of Godric's Hollow. On the night of his parents' deaths, a year and three months later exactly, he was taken to a small Muggle suburb in Surrey and left on a doorstep. When the residents, his aunt and uncle, found him the next morning, there began a life of abuse and neglect. He was kept in a cupboard under the stairs right up until the Dursleys realized Dumbledore knew where he slept. On that same day he was given Dudley's second bedroom, much to the obese boy's dismay, although the other forms of abuse--the insults, the beatings, the poor diet all while being forced to cook for his family--never left while he was in their home. Which was why Hogwarts became not a second home to him, but his only home, a haven from the mistreatment at his family's hands.
However mistreated Harry was by Muggles, he never retained the sort of hatred for him that most young wizards in history had in his situation, which is perhaps the noblest of all things he's done. Harry always had remembered that, though the Dursleys were wretched people, there were many more Muggles besides them who were hardly as cruel--and were, in fact, as kind as the Weasleys. He did, however, often wish it had been a family like theirs that had raised him.
At Hogwarts his life was considerably interesting. He practiced magic daily, flew on broomsticks, had friends, and even continued to thwart the Dark Lord who had attempted to murder him as an infant. He successfully kept Voldemort away from the Philosopher's Stone in his First Year and slayed a fully grown basilisk and prevented Voldemort's return through a memory of Tom Riddle in his Second. However, his luck in that regard did run out at the end of his Fourth Year when Voldemort, at the grave of his father, regained a form and rose to power once more.
Thankfully Dumbledore pulled together the remaining members of a resistance--The Order of the Phoenix--in response, using Harry's Godfather's own family home as its Headquarters. Sirius, still wanted for murder by the Ministry of Magic, had been happy to give Dumbledore that space and to invite Harry to stay there. In fact, the summer before his fifth year was spent removing curses and jinxes from household trinkets,shooing away everything from ghouls to pixies, and otherwise having a grand time with his friends and the Order. It was because of these things that Harry was able to return to Hogwarts that year with renewed hope.
However, he was still unable to return without baggage. Not only was he labeled insane by the Ministry and the Daily Prophet, a title that carried itself through the school, he had dreams now, vivid dreams from the eyes of Voldemort, and although he had been going to Occlumency courses with the Potions Master, they seemed to be doing little to help. Even worse for Harry's chances was the fact that Snape, after Harry had taken a dip in the pensieve on his desk and saw the memory it contained, had literally run him out of his office never to teach another Occlumency lesson again. Now Harry was absolutely on his own and still no better at the skill. [/SIZE]
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[/color][/font]IF YOU SWITCH ME DRAGONS I'LL GIVE YOU MY
GUSHERS! NO, NO, NO... I HAVE A FRUIT BY THE FOOT[/color][/font]
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AGE: 21
GENDER: Female
EXPERIENCE: Eight years
SECRET WORD: ADMIN EDIT
ANYTHING ELSE?: *waves*
RP SAMPLE: The rest of his form were already asleep, Crabbe and Goyle both snoring loudly, but Draco Malfoy was wide awake. Although it was already the middle of October, last year's events still weighed heavily on his mind. The Dark Lord's (forcible) invitation into his ranks had occurred barely more than a year prior, and even in that small amount of time the teenager weighed heavily on the teenager. His hair, usually something he worked on for twenty minutes alone, was parted and the bangs let to hang down either side of his head and even his eyes showed light circles from lack of sleep beneath them.
The rest of Hogwarts barely noticed the change in his hair, for he was always well groomed even without so much time devoted to his appearance, and though his tired and worn state was more apparent, his vicious sneers and the intimidating gazes of his two bodyguards quickly put to rest any mocking discourse regarding it. Draco's lip curled in a way that could only be achieved through generations of feelings of personal supremacy as he thought of it. They had no idea. No idea at all what they were laughing at--not even at the end when everything he tried and failed to do was picked up for him. He rolled up a sleeve on his school robes and looked over the Dark Mark burned into his skin with a look of disgust. It all seemed so perfect to him before. Now he wasn't even sure how he got into this mess--if he could have ever even avoided it.
The air around the Dark Lord was always so cold and so sinister. Most of his followers had never noticed it until things got ugly and the Lord's words became more than just that, but they did their best to hide their unease. Some still, like Bellatrix and Rodolphus, seemed to bask in it like a serpent in sunlight. Lucius was one of those Death Eaters who could no longer ignore the evil that gathered around their master more and more as he continued to dabble in Dark Arts and immortality.
He chanced a nervous glance towards his son, swathed in the same black Death Eater robes as him, through his mask. Fear. That was what he tasted. Lucius was one of the many who rejoiced with the rest of the world when Voldemort was first destroyed by Harry Potter. Those who had come under his leadership and watched as their master deteriorated into a more insane and violent creature finally had their way out. Their path to freedom was suddenly and finally opened. Then two years ago the Dark Lord -- and his Mark on them all -- returned. And now the worst had come to pass: Lucius hoped, prayed that continued loyalty and servitude to the Dark Lord would keep his family safe from his wrath. Now as he knelt before him, he was forced unwillingly to give his son to his master's will.
"Lucius," he heard his master's voice, cold like ice, directed towards him.
"Yes Master," he replied, bowing lower still.
"You are fearful. I can smell your disloyalty from here," he spat, daring the man to even consider arguing. "Do you not want your son to become powerful? To serve his master just as you have and prevail through the end of this war?"
"M-my Lord, of course I do," Lucius replied quickly and masking his fear, feeling those red eyes boring into him. There was a long pause in which Lucius feared he would be punished with a lazy cast of the Cruciatas Curse, but it never came. Instead...
"Draco."
"Yes, Master," came the shaky reply from Lucius' left. He had not yet learned what it was like to be in the Dark Lord's presence, though in all fairness it was never something Lucius meant for his son to learn.
"Present your arm," Voldemort ordered coolly, and the boy silently and swiftly obeyed, holding a pale forearm to his father's master. Voldemort lay on long, pale finger on the boy's skin, and it was only through years of trained and practiced poise that the boy didn't shudder at his touch.
"Do you swear," he began, either not noticing or ignoring any discomfort from the boy, "completely fealty and loyalty to me until death? To follow every command without question or die like a traitor?" he asked quietly, though none of his words were missed.
"Yes, my Lord," he replied, knowing no other reply would keep him or his family alive. Draco knelt in strained silence waiting for a reply.
Finally, "I believe you."
Pain was the first thing Draco knew as the Mark was burned into his skin. Then, as the Dark Lord's hand moved from his arm, he got a chance to look at the mark that he would now and forever bear. He quickly kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes as he knew was customary--and not in the least bit optional--and withdrew to his original place by his father, still on his knee although he felt his head swimming in pain and shock.
"That is all," Voldemort finally said. "I will contact you further, Draco, on your first mission as one of my own," he continued before dismissing them. "Do not disappoint me."
True to his word the Dark Lord did send word of his first mission. To restore the Vanishing Cabinet within Hogwarts and to murder Albus Dumbledore. Two hefty tasks for any wizard to complete, let alone an underage boy, but he did not refuse his Master's will. No, he could not refuse it. And since then his entire year was spent sleeplessly, trying to restore the Cabinet, praying that it be restored in time. Somehow it was, and in the end even his Head of House and now fellow Death Eater Severus Snape killed Dumbledore for him. Draco often wondered if the professor had also somehow helped him with the Vanishing Cabinet--sneaking in when Draco wasn't there and fixing it. He was the Head of Slytherin House after all, and it was a more than plausible explanation. Still, though he found himself out of hot water there, Potter and his little pets were still missing and that was a problem. One Draco feared his Master would decide to make his problem, one that he may not have Snape to save him on.
He lifted his hands to his head and massaged his temples and ran and hand through his hair. That was too much to think about right now. He had enough on his plate still dealing with his near failure for the Dark Lord last year. He didn't need to think about more impossible missions already. Still, there was no way he was going to sleep now, and he wasn't going to sit around and listen to his classmates snore.
With a heavy sigh he rolled his sleeve back down and pulled the curtains away from his bed, stepping out into the darkened dormitory. He moved quietly through the dimly lit Common Room, their fire nearly extinguished, and left through the false wall into the main area of the dungeons, walking silently up to the main hall. Perhaps some fresh night air would calm his nerves enough to allow him to sleep. As a Prefect, he wasn't even concerned about the curfew. So when he saw a figure walking towards the castle from the Forbidden Forest, he watched only with curiousity. That was until he saw who it was.
"Baby Weasel," he drawled, smirking as she drew near enough to hear him. Fresh air, harassing a Weasely... both were just as good for making him feel much better. "What's got you walking around late at night, little Weasel? Forget where your Common Room is, or did they finally kick you out for bringing down the Quidditch Team?" he asked. He wasn't a fantastic Seeker himself, but he was worlds better than Weasley, and he planned to shove that in her face at every opportunity.[/SIZE]
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[/color][/font]HUFFLEPUFFS ARE PARTICULARLY GOOD
FINDERS! WHAT THE HELL IS A HUFFLEPUFF?[/color][/font]
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