lawny's test thread.

[lawnchair crisis]

stealing is not nice.
please don't do it (:

[lawnchair crisis]

the boys.

14 and under


teens - early twenties


late twenties and over

[lawnchair crisis]

the girls.

14 and under


teens - early twenties


late twenties and over

[lawnchair crisis]

xoxoxo{ REDUCTO ! }
xoxo bartemius caspar crouch jr.
xo thirteen | third
xo pureblood
xo hufflepuff
xo yew, eleven and a half inches, manticore venom
xo pumped up kicks - foster the people
xo dakota goyo
xo none
xo lawnchair crisis

wнere aм ι? |
who aм I wιtн? |
wнat am ι tнιnĸιng? |


The minute Bartemius woke up he knew his father was gone already. It was something about the silence of the house. Not that the house wasn't silent all the time, but it was the quality about it that gave it away. It was a peaceful silence when he was gone, as opposed to tense as it was on the rare occasion he was home. He opened his eyes and looked toward the window, squinting against the light that apparently woken him up. He glanced at the door, now left ajar. His mother must have come in at some point earlier. He sighed, sitting up to look at the clock, immediately regretting it. He bolted off the bed and ran downstairs. "Why didn't you wake me up?" he hissed at his mother, who was sitting on the couch of the living room, staring out the window. "You needed more sleep. You had to be exhausted after last night. I told you father-" she began, but Barty was hearing none of it. "I'm going to miss the train," he complained. His mother smiled softly, obviously amused by his worry. "No you won't, love. Winky already set your clothes out and breakfast is on the table," she said.

Barty relaxed a little then. At least the woman had done something right. He rushed to the bathroom, where his clothes had been laid out by the house elf, his mother continuing to speak from the next room. "I told your father you needed to pack last night. I can't believe he kept you out here so late," she said, sounding annoyed. However, she'd done nothing about it last night of course. His father had people from work over- important people apparently. He wouldn't let Barty or his mother leave the party to pack until everyone had left. He insisted that Winky could do it. As if that stupid elf would remember everything he needed. Then he wouldn't let his mother help him, claiming he needed to talk to her. So Barty had been up until two in the morning packing his things. "Really?" asked Barty, sarcasm lacing his tone. "Because I can," added flatly as he buttoned his khaki pants. He threw on his shirt and strode back out. "He didn't even say goodbye."

His mother suddenly looked sympathetic and she stood, holding a hand out to him, trying to take his. "Oh sweetie, I'm sorry, he had to get going and we didn't want to wake-" she began, but he shoved her hand away. "I don't care. In fact I'm glad he's gone. It's bloody awkward saying goodbye to him," he said, walking toward the kitchen. His mother had made breakfast this morning instead of Winky. The two cooked completely different things, and today was French toast. His mother sat across from him as he ate, trying to coax him into talking. "You're mad at me," she said softly. Barty suddenly felt a bit guilty. He hadn't meant to make her feel like it was her fault. It wasn't. Well, maybe it was her fault for marrying him, but there was nothing to be done about that. "No. It's hardly your fault that he's never here- or that when he is he... never mind," he said, taking a long drink of orange juice. "I don't want to talk about it, okay?" His mother frowned, but stopped questioning him as he finished the last bite of toast. "Okay, can we go now?" he asked.

- - - - - - - - - - - - timeskip.

The station was crowded with muggles as always. Bartemius avoided them, not even wanting to bump into one of them. He was rushing through the surplus of people, his mum struggling to keep up. It wasn't until they reached the barrier to the platform that Barty stopped, let her catch up. He stared at her expectantly. Getting the hint she sighed. "Okay, okay," she said. Clearly he didn't want her with him on the platform, so she would be saying her goodbyes here. She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. "Be safe and write me, alright. I love you," she told him, giving him one good hug. He squeezed her back. "Love you too," he said very quietly. Once she released him he took his trolley and ran through the barrier, disappearing into the bricks.

It was the same as it was every year, bustling, claustrophobic, with the giant red engine filling the platform with smog. He dragged his things onto the train, wondering how he was going to find Evan. He could be anywhere on this damn train. Maybe he'd find someone else to sit with, though that was doubtful. Mollie was alright, but she tended to attract crowds and those people could get irritating. He sighed, making his way down the aisle and peering into compartments. No one really said anything to him, even the older students that he had to push past. In his first year, a fourth year tried to pick a fight with him over that, and he sent a tickling charm his way that left the boy vomiting and sore from laughing for days afterward. Needless to say he didn't really need to worry about it again. He passed a compartment of familiar faces. Mollie was with Regulus and Klaus. He rolled his eyes. Regulus was okay, sort of, but Klaus pissed him off. He waved to Mollie, but didn't stop to talk. So far, Evan was nowhere to be found.



THIRD YEAR HUFFLEPUFF
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - where in the song does it say we're nice?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

[lawnchair crisis]

xoxoxo{ EXPULSO ! }
xoxo evan alexander rosier
xo sixteen | sixth
xo pureblood
xo slytherin
xo padauk, twelve and a fourth inches, basilisk scale
xo iron - woodkid
xo jake abel
xo mongeurs de mort
xo lawnchair crisis

wнere aм ι? | Hogwarts Express - compartment
who aм I wιtн? | Lune {my dearest deer}
wнat am ι tнιnĸιng? | This train is so bloody loud.


Evan woke up to the sound of his mother's screeching voice as she stormed down the hallway toward his room. He groaned, pulling the covers all the way over his head in a pathetic attempt to muffle the sound. He heard the door swing open and winced. "Evan Alexander, you're going to be late if you don't get up right now," she shrieked, ripping the covers off his head. He grabbed the pillow in a last ditch effort to cover his ears, but she ripped that away as well. Their house elf, Tibby had already been upstairs several times, pathetically attempting to wake him before informing Mrs. Rosier that her son would not leave the bed. No doubt the poor guy suffered for that one. Ah well, wasn't his problem. "If it were up to me you wouldn't be going," she said in her nasally drawl. "I keep telling your father that we should send you to Durmstrang. It's horrible, making you go to school with those filthy mudbloods," she mused, before glancing down and realizing the Evan was curled up on his side, still trying to sleep. She rolled her eyes and ripped the rest of the covers off. "It's not my job to come up here and get you up. Stop acting like a child and get ready," she hissed, walking out and taking the covers, and the pillow with her.

Evan remained still for a long moment, staring at the wall. He wasn't particularly fond of school, but he definitely didn't want to stay home. He didn't want to go to Durmstrang either. It was entirely too cold up there. He didn't have to worry though. His father would never send him away from Hogwarts. He was too proud of his former school, the place where he first met his fellow Death Eaters, where he first met the Dark Lord, as they all called him. Evan had little interest in what his father did, but his father had plenty of interest in him. No son of Eoin Rosier was going to be a disappointment. So Evan joined a group the previous year, all of whom planned on becoming Death Eaters once they left. It was what was expected, after all, and he didn't really care one way or the other, as long as it didn't interfere with his own plans. He sighed heavily, getting up and wincing at the sound of his mother shouting up the stairs. "You better be dressed and down here in the next five minutes, or Merlin help me, Evan I will get your father here!" He grimaced and went to his closet.

In three minutes he was downstairs. Tibby had made breakfast. His mother could not cook to save her life, even with magic. He sometimes wondered if he could actually be the son of someone so unskilled with a wand. He ate quickly as his mother sat in a chair in the next room, reading the Daily Prophet. "How am I getting there?" Evan called finally. He heard her turn a page before replying. "We're apparating of course," she replied. He'd been afraid of that. The last thing he wanted was to get splinched on the way to the station. He frowned, finishing the last of his food and leaving the dishes for the elf to take care of. "Well let's go then. Better to get it over with," he said, standing.

- - - - - - - timeskip

Almost as soon as he and his mother reached the platform, she started the act. It was disgusting. Evan had to resist the urge to shove the woman away as she hugged him. He felt awkward in her arms, completely out of place. They never hugged unless it was in public, where everyone could see. Evan was not a touchy sort of person. It made him uncomfortable, and when she kissed him on the cheek he winced, pulling back. She glared, clearly annoyed that he wasn't playing along with the happily family act, but he didn't give a damn. He just wanted on the train and away from her. He grabbed his bags and turned away, ignoring her demands for him to come back and give her a proper goodbye. He didn't have to look back to know that her face was red and she was glancing around for any watching. Pathetic.

He made his way onto the scarlet train, looking for a familiar face. There were only so many people he could tolerate for a whole train ride. Maybe Regulus. Barty. Where was that boy anyway? He'd known Barty Crouch Jr. for years, and the kid was always trailing him. Evan didn't mind because he knew when to shut up. He was a Hufflepuff, but Evan had to wonder if he was sorted into the wrong house. He was too bright and too tough to hang around badgers. Sure, his need for attention got irritating sometimes, but it wasn't anything that Evan couldn't handle, or ignore. He made his way down the aisle, shoving past anyone that didn't move out of his way. Most everyone skirted around him anyway. It took about five minutes before Evan, sick of plowing his way down the corridor, found a compartment he could tolerate. Lune Blackwood sat alone, reading. She was a Slytherin a year above him. She was someone he could respect, and she generally spent her time alone, much like him. He opened the door and leaned on the door frame. "Hey Lune, mind if I join you?" he asked. "I don't feel like searching the whole train for someplace quiet," he added.



SIXTH YEAR SLYTHERIN
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - this is usually the part where people start screaming.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


the facts:
- he is a very talented duellist.
- he is secretly very protective of Barty.
- he did not particularly want to join the mdm, but was pressured.
- like Barty, he dislikes his father, but he also dislikes his mother, who supports his father in everything.
- he can be incredibly manipulative when he wants to be.
- he wants power, and he'll do a lot to get it, but he does draw a line.
- he is aggressive when angered, but mostly he uses people to get what he wants.
- he is biting and sarcastic.
- he has no idea how to show his feelings and lashes out at as a result.

[lawnchair crisis]

xoxoxo{ RIDDIKULUS ! }
xoxo remus john lupin
xo sixteen | sixth
xo half-blood, werewolf
xo gryffindor
xo oak, eleven and three quarter inches, dragon heartstring
xo theme song
xo andrew garfield
xo prefect
xo lawnchair crisis

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

wнere aм ι? | hogwarts express - compartment
who aм I wιtн? | James {I AM TH3 LI0N QUINN} and Sirius {wast3d_20k_2_chang3_this}
wнat am ι tнιnĸιng? | Causing trouble already?


Remus chewed on his lip, willing his parents to move faster but not voicing his eagerness aloud. He was always like this on the first day of school. Well, since he befriended Sirius, James, and Peter, anyway. His first year he was terrified. What if someone discovered what he was? What would they do? Surely no one would accept a monster in the school. Well, there was Dumbledore, the one man willing to take a chance on him, but that was different, he was different. If word got out that he was a freak the owls would come in faster than ever before- demanding that he be removed from the castle. No parent would want him there. Of course he'd been wrong, and he'd never been more thrilled to be proven wrong in his life. He had friends that didn't just accept his condition and keep it a secret, but actually helped him get through it- they became animagi, just for him. His transformations were becoming more and more bearable, thanks to them. Hogwarts had become a second home- in fact, it was more of a home to him than this house was. He was free there, well, as free as he could be. He realized a long time ago that he'd never be free completely, not til they found a cure, if they ever found a cure.

He bit at his thumb nail and his leg was shaking up and down anxiously as he sat at the kitchen table. He was finished with breakfast, and to occupy himself he'd even done the dishes afterward. But now, with his bags ready and everything in order, he had nothing to keep his mind off of Hogwarts. He'd been the first awake, and he'd been ready to go for nearly an hour. His bags sat beside the fireplace, and he stared at them unblinkingly. "Mum!" he shouted finally. "Can we go please? It's just King's Cross, not a bloody fashion show," he pointed out, mumbling the last part. His mother huffed, making her way to the living room where Remus sat. "Oh for crying out loud, Remus darling, stop fidgeting. We'll get there when we get there," she said calmly. He stood, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry- it's just that I have a meeting on the train, remember?" he said, gesturing to the little red and gold badge pinned on his chest. She sighed softly, clearly not believing him. "Don't think I don't know you're eager to see those friends of yours. I'm not sure about the influence they have on you-" Remus sighed exasperatedly. "Mum, I'm fine. I'm prefect, I get perfect grades, what on earth do you think they're influencing?" he asked. She shook her head, getting her jacket on. "Your father told me that Black boy ran away from home-" "No he didn't. It's not like that mum. You don't know what his family is like." She gave him a disbelieving look, but didn't argue. "Just be careful, dear," she said. "John!" she called, craning her neck and shouting up the stairs. "Come on now, or he'll miss the train."

- - - - - timeskip

Floo powder was probably Remus's least favorite mode of transportation- but it had an advantage, they got there much quicker. He was still brushing the ash from himself when they walked through the barrier between platforms nine and ten. His mother and father trailed behind him, his father with an arm slung around her. They didn't really need to see him off- but he couldn't bring himself to tell them that. His parents had done more for him than anyone could imagine. They'd searched to the ends of the Earth for a cure, but came up empty handed. He was lucky, some parents might not be as accepting, or as determined. "Now you be careful, and write me, and stay out of trouble," his mother warned as they approached the scarlet train. He turned to her and she brushed a bit of ash from his shoulder. "Professor Dumbledore's been extremely kind, so don't cause him any problems," she added. It was the same speech every year, not that he needed it at all. He owed Dumbledore everything- he couldn't bear to let the man down. His mother pulled him down a bit and kissed his cheek, while his father watched, bemused. "We'll see you at Christmas, Remus," he said, clapping his son on the back. Remus nodded and pulled his bags onto the train.

His first order of business was to find James and Sirius, and maybe Peter- but he was typically late. Of course, he really did have to go and meet with the Head Boy and Girl, but he had a bit of time to kill beforehand and hopefully he could also find Lily first. He hauled his things down the aisle, peering into compartments for the rest of the gang, occasionally waving at a fellow Gryffindor. Melia Kingston teasingly shoved him into the wall with a "Welcome back, prefect." Ever since he'd gotten the position she called him that. He shoved in return and she wagged a finger at him. "Now now- don't abuse your power," she told him, before flashing him a wicked grin and disappearing into a compartment. He shook his head, smiling, and moved on. He finally found James and Sirius and pulled the door open just in time to hear James' last words. "I hope not. Merlin knows I'll get blamed for not keeping a better eye on you lot," he said, putting his bags away on the overhead shelf. "Plotting already? We haven't even reached the school," he said, taking a seat next to Sirius and leaning back. "Peter late as usual, I presume?" he asked. "And how's living under the same roof going? Quarreling like a married couple yet?" he added, grinning.


SIXTH YEAR GRYFFINDOR
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - there is no problem that cannot be solved by chocolate.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



-he never thought he would have friends that accepted him for what he was, so he is VERY protective and loyal to James, Sirius, Peter, and Lily.
- he doesn't like the more... cruel sides of James and Sirius when they come out, but he usually bites his tongue.
- he will sacrifice anything for his friends.
- he is very responsible unless it comes to J & S. He is terrified of losing them so he does whatever they want him to.
- he does not, however, ever bully along with them.
- he loves chocolate.
- he doesn't believe that anyone is safe with him and avoids relationships as a result.
- he is intelligent, level-headed, open-minded.
- he is very good at reading people.
- he is secretly in love with Lily, but no one is aware of it, and he rejects his own feelings for James' sake and because he thinks Lily deserves someone better.

[lawnchair crisis]

xoxoxo{ VULNERA SANENTUR ! }
xoxo roxana larissa kingston
xo seventeen | seventh
xo pureblood
xo ravenclaw
xo silver maple, twelve inches, occamy feather
xo
xo maggie grace
xo none
xo lawnchair crisis

wнere aм ι? |
who aм I wιtн? |
wнat am ι tнιnĸιng? |


the facts:
- she is incredibly bright, but terrible at reading people.
- as a result, she is somewhat easily manipulated.
- she is incredibly innocent, and somewhat of a prude.
- she has a weakness for someone that can make her laugh.
- she doesn't trust Melia, due to her father's influence.
- she is judgmental of others.
- she wants to be a healer and loves helping people.
- she enjoys danger, and is a bit of a thrill seeker.


SEVENTH YEAR RAVENCLAW
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - (insert witty phrase here.)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

[lawnchair crisis]

xoxoxo{ ALOHAMORA ! }
xoxo melia persephone kingston
xo sixteen | sixth
xo pureblood
xo gryffindor
xo teak, twelve inches, mermaid scale
xo monster - paramore
xo jennifer lawrence
xo keeper for the quidditch team
xo lawnchair crisis

wнere aм ι? |
who aм I wιtн? |
wнat am ι tнιnĸιng? |


This was the third night in a row. It was always the same. There stood Damon, eyes a freezing blue that matched her own, but somehow didn't. He held her in front of him, a wand to her throat, facing Melia. Her eyes were green- vibrant, alive, the color of the woods behind Kingston Manor. They might not be much longer. "Let her go, Damon," she hissed. He smirked. "Okay." His arms released her, and Roxana didn't move, aside from her lip twitching into a smirk. They both lifted their wands to Melia. "You picked the wrong side again, Mels," they said at once. Melia's eyes shot open, the rest of her body still paralyzed as her heart beat against her chest, trying to escape. She took a breath to steady it before realizing she wasn't alone.

"Damon... what are you doing here?" she asked. Her brother stood in the doorway. She had no idea how long he'd been there. "Came to see my baby sisters off," he said. She sat up, looking him over. He didn't seem any different than he was the last time she'd seen him, but he looked a bit tired. "Oh," she said quietly, looking down at the bed. He sighed, pushing himself off of the door frame that he'd been leaning on. "Can you please stop looking at me like that? I am still your brother, you know," he pointed out. "I'd expect this from Rox, not you," he added. He sounded so much like their father it stung. "Sorry," she muttered, standing up. "You know she hates me now. She thinks I'm making it all up because I'm jealous," she added, looking up at him. He sighed. He couldn't talk his way out of that one. Melia knew he was responsible. "Look I had to say something, I can't have her blabbing to father," he said. "You better not either," he added. "I won't. I just wish you would stop all together," she said, striding past him. He frowned but didn't reply.

Melia went downstairs, where Roxana was already at the breakfast table. She very deliberately ignored her sister's entrance, but stood up as Damon walked in after her, rushing over to give him a hug. "You're up late Mel," said her father, looking up from his copy of the Daily Prophet. She shrugged. "Trouble sleeping," she said. He looked concerned for a moment before Melia quickly lied. "Too excited for the feast," she said. The rest of the morning was spent getting ready in almost complete silence. Her parents were the only ones talking, and both seemed completely unaware of the tension that had settled among their three children. Melia went back upstairs to change and grab her bags, but before she could make her way back down with them, Damon stood in front of her door again, this time blocking her way out. "You're really so mad at me? We're family, Mels," he said. She sighed. "I'm disappointed in you," she clarified. "Funny I could say the same about you," he replied. Once upon a time, he thought Melia might join as well, once she graduated. He tried to talk her in to seeking out the Mangeurs de Mort and joining up with them, unfortunately for him he had been very wrong. Melia might not have been the innocent that Roxana was, but she was no Death Eater either.

Melia pushed her way past him and they both made their way back downstairs. She hadn't told their parents. She'd sworn to him that she wouldn't and she was too afraid of what their father might do if he knew. They remained blissfully unaware of the civil war in their own family. "Damon's taking you two to the station. We'll see you at Christmas alright," said their father, giving each of the girls a kiss on the forehead. "Be safe, okay?" he warned them. Their mother gave each of them a hug, telling them to write this year. Melia scoffed. "Yeah sure, just like the last five years mum," she replied, making her father smile. She inherited his mouth, her mother liked to say. They finished their goodbyes and the three of them headed out.

- - - - - - - - - timeskip.

Once they were on the platform, Roxana gave Damon a hug and a kiss on the cheek before running off to find her friends aboard the train. Melia looked up at Damon and sighed, giving him a kiss on the cheek as well. "Promise me, if nothing else, be careful..." she whispered. He smirked, laying on his usual cocky charm. "C'mon Mels, when have I done otherwise?" he teased. She smiled softly and gave him a hug before heading toward the train she paused before getting on, looking back at her brother one more time. She waved at him and climbed aboard. There were plenty of familiar faces there already, including Remus Lupin, the Gryffindor prefect in her year. She smirked, shoving him lightly. "Welcome back, prefect," she said. She almost never used his name since he got the position. He shoved her back and lifted a finger, wagging it warning. "Now now- don't abuse your power," she told him. She flashed him a mischievous grin. She ducked into a nearby empty compartment, shoving all her things into the overhead, except the cage holding her owl, Phineas. She set that down carefully on the seat beside her.

Sighing she sat down. Normally she would ride with Roxana,but the girl would barely speak to her right now, thanks to Damon. She leaned back, closing her eyes. She hadn't lied about having trouble sleeping. She only slept about an hour and a half in total. She just kept waking up all the time. With a yawn she let herself stretch out comfortably on the seat. Maybe she could nap through the train ride.


SIXTH YEAR GRYFFINDOR
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - are you questioning my badassness?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

[lawnchair crisis]

xoxALBUS PERCIVAL WULFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE
xoxseventeen | graduated
xoxHogwarts (Gryffindor)
xoxivy, twelve and one third inches, dragon heartstring
xoxhalf-blood
xoxhomosexual
xoxno light, no light - florence + the machine
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxotttoby regbo
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxottlawnchair crisis


xoxARIANA HONORIA DUMBLEDORE
xoxfourteen | n/a
xoxn/a
xoxn/a
xoxhalf-blood
xoxheterosexual?
xoxwhere is my mind? - yoav ft. emily browning
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxotttaylor swift
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxottlawnchair crisis



xoxABERFORTH CHARLES SAMUEL WINSTON DUMBLEDORE
xoxfifteen | sixth
xoxHogwarts (Hufflepuff)
xoxmahogany, eleven inches, augury feather
xoxhalf-blood
xoxheterosexual
xoxthis will make you love again - blue stahli (IAMX cover)
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxott logan lerman
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxottlawnchair crisis

[lawnchair crisis]

xxxxx❛Chris┊
xx▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ ▃▃▃▃▃
xxx*(Tell me I'm an angel, take this to my grave. Tell me I'm a bad man, kick me like a stray.

xxxxxxxxx♦the name on my birth certificate is; Christian Matthias Hawthorne
xxxxxxxxx♦as you can tell, i'm a; guy
xxxxxxxxx♦ i'm not that old...; fifteen
xxxxxxxxx♦ which means i'm a; fifth year
xxxxxxxxx♦ i find myself staring at; uh, everyone, I guess...
xxxxxxxxx♦ people say i'm; distant, quiet, mysterious
xxxxxxxxx♦ i guess that's why i'm in; slytherin
xxxxxxxxx♦ people say i look just like; callan mcauliffe
xxxxxxxxx♦ lawnchair crisis

I really hate talking about myself, but if you insist. My parents were both pureblood wizards, so it might seem obvious that I was sorted into Slytherin, but that's kind of complicated. I'm not into all that elitist bull. I used to live in America, I went to a school there called Elysium Academy for three years. It was great, I had a big group of friends, even if I wasn't super close to most of them. I was sort of the class clown, the adventurous one who liked breaking the rules but never seemed to get into trouble for it. But in my third year something happened that changed everything. I'd rather not get into the details, but I was bitten by a werewolf. Everyone found out. After that a lot of my friends turned on me, and no parent wanted me at school with their kids, so I had to leave. Hogwarts was the only school that would take me. I came here last year, but I don't exactly have friends even after all this time. I avoid people as much as possible, and if people start to talk to me I usually snap and walk away. I don't really enjoy pushing everyone away, but it's better than repeating what I went through at Elysium. In short, if you try to approach me, I'll probably tell you to f*ck off. However, I do like people-watching, so I know a lot about my classmates.

xxxxx❛Jay┊
xx▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ ▃▃▃▃▃
xxx*(I can figure out the point of anything, but not as quickly as I can mess up my life...

xxxxxxxxx♦the name on my birth certificate is; Jayden Melia Hayes
xxxxxxxxx♦as you can tell, i'm a; girl
xxxxxxxxx♦ i'm not that old...; sixteen
xxxxxxxxx♦ which means i'm a; sixth year
xxxxxxxxx♦ i find myself staring at; men
xxxxxxxxx♦ people say i'm; intelligent, extroverted, sarcastic
xxxxxxxxx♦ i guess that's why i'm in; ravenclaw
xxxxxxxxx♦ people say i look just like; alexia fast
xxxxxxxxx♦ lawnchair crisis

So you wanna know my story? Where to start... well, my mum's a muggle, and my dad was a wizard, well is, I guess. I don't know much about him. He bolted when I was little, disappeared off the face of the planet. I don't know if he's alive or not, or where he went, but it was a long time ago so don't go feeling sorry for me about it. The point is that I grew up in the muggle world. In fact, my mum didn't tell me I was a witch and told me nothing about dad. When I got my letter it explained an awful lot of weird things that seemed to happen around me. It was neat when I found out though, it was like a whole new connection to my dad I didn't know I had. My mum wasn't pleased. She and I don't really get along, which I hate but I'm too stubborn to admit. Anyway, I was always a pretty smart kid I guess. I pick up things easily, and I absorb information without even really trying. Magic worked pretty much the same way for me. I just naturally learned without a problem. It was certainly a lot more fun than school though. I absolutely love magic. More? Well I've been told I can be a bit of a blunt, sarcastic know-it-all, but I'm usually pretty easy to get along with. I like meeting new people and doing new things, and I can be sort of stubborn and hot-headed. Oh and I have a cat named Sherlock. Is that enough?

[lawnchair crisis]

wнere aм ι? | The great hall - slytherin table
who aм I wιtн? | no one
wнat am ι tнιnĸιng? | three more years... can't I just be donw?


For a blissful second, Christian imagined waking up in his bed back home near Chicago, ready to make his way to Elysium Academy for his fourth year of school. The past two years never happened, it was all some nightmare, some vision of another person's life. When he opened his eyes he was in his parents house outside London, laying in bed as the sunlight crept in. A heavy, pained sigh escaped his lips as the memory of everything that happened in the past two years weighed down on him, and he was reminded that he was still living the nightmare. There would be no waking from it. The door creaked softly and Christian sat up as his mother came in. "Oh good, you're up," she said with a smile. "Your father left for work, so I'll be apparating with you," she told him. Christian didn't reply as he pushed the covers away. Anything he had to say had been said a hundred times before. No matter what his mother told him, Chris knew his father wanted little to do with him. After all, he'd been the reason they had to move, the reason his father had to leave his job, his home where he grew up, his entire country. His mother never complained, never seemed bothered by the change, but his father blamed him, and he knew it. He knew if he said so his mother would only argue. It didn't matter anyway, he was lucky that his father had done so much for him, even if it was resentfully. Still, he could have at least said goodbye. "Your bags are downstairs, and I made breakfast," she added, turning to leave. "You have about half an hour."

That was more time than Christian really needed. He never put much stock in his appearance. What was the point? He had no intention of making any friends at Hogwarts. He would make his way through the next three years completely invisible and graduate. Then he'd get the hell out of there and go back to America. He hopped in the shower for a good five minutes and threw on an old set of clothes. He'd just have to change on the train anyway. When he got downstairs a plate was waiting for him at the dining table, piled mostly with bacon and sausage and a little bit of egg. His mother sat across from it, eyes on him over a copy of the Daily Prophet. He sighed, picking at it until he'd eaten roughly half of it. She always cooked too much. When he was finished she asked if he was ready to go and he nodded. "Yeah, I guess," he replied, and she frowned, no doubt remembering his years at Elysium when he was the first one awake and impatiently waited for her to cook breakfast so they could get going. Everything had changed since then. He got up from the table and grabbed his bags, silently waiting for her.

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The station was crowded as always, with wizards and muggles alike, and his mother said her goodbyes on the platform. She smiled weakly, fixing his hair, which hadn't needed it. "Try to relax and make some friends this year, yeah?" she asked. "You need to have some fun," she told him. "Don't let it rule you." In an effort to make her stop looking so pathetic, Chris smiled softly. "I'll try," he lied. She misunderstood, and he didn't blame her for that. His parents thought he didn't want friends because of what he was, like he was afraid he'd hurt someone. On the contrary, he was afraid of being the one to get hurt. He didn't need history repeating itself. He hadn't hurt anyone at Elysium, but they'd all attacked him. Humans were awful when they met something different, even if it was harmless. It was better to avoid them altogether than to lie and play the role of one, only to suffer when they realized the truth. And the closer he got to anyone, the more likely it was that they would realize it. He hugged his mother halfheartedly and boarded the train, finding an empty compartment.

The train ride was peacefully dull. The train was much too crowded to get a compartment to himself, so Christian sat through it with two quiet second year Slytherins, both of whom spent the ride reading and munching on snacks from the trolley in near silence. Meanwhile, Christian spent it with his notebook and a pencil. He never used quills unless he had to. Schools in America weren't so... outdated like Hogwarts. Quills and parchment? Archaic and completely inconvenient in Chris's opinion. It was so much more of a pain. He was writing to distract himself, which is how it had started. He'd first started writing last year, to fight off boredom and the rather depressing thoughts he'd been having. Then it just became something he enjoyed doing, something that helped him escape and gave him some measure of purpose, even if no one read any of it. It was just something to help him stay sane.

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Once the train reached it's destination, Chris shared a carriage with a few obnoxious Hufflepuffs, glad that they ignored his presence as much as he ignored theirs. Now he sat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, most of his housemates giving him a wide berth, avoiding the freak that never talked to anyone, but it was better to be seen as a freak for being unsociable than for being inhuman. He'd already been at Hogwarts for a year, but he didn't know anyone. Well, he knew plenty about them. That's the thing about not talking to people, you end up just listening, watching. He knew quite a bit about his classmates, even though he'd never spoken to most of them. The ones that he had spoken to were either interested in figuring him out, like he was some puzzle, or in pointing out how much of a loser he was, as if he cared. He stabbed his fork into a carrot on his plate, watching the events unfolding in the Great Hall. School hadn't even started and the drama was already beginning. He sighed, munching on his food as those who'd been fighting disbanded. Well, that was short lived. He sipped his pumpkin juice silently.



FIFTH YEAR SLYTHERIN
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{{ ooc:// ick ick ick. This sucks so bad... }}

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wнere aм ι? |
who aм I wιtн? |
wнat am ι tнιnĸιng? |






SIXTH YEAR RAVENCLAW
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Aberforth couldn't be more grateful that school was over with. Of course, it could be over with for good if Al would just let him drop out. But no, instead his older brother had gone on and on about 'the importance of education'. He just couldn't understand that not everyone was cut out to be a genius like him. Aberforth was fine with his life the way it was. He didn't need to graduate, to get out of Godric's Hollow like Albus wanted to. There was only one thing in his life that Aberforth found worth anything, and that was his sister. He sat with Ariana on the floor of the living room, a chess board between them. Al was upstairs, reading of course, probably fooling around with new spells. He couldn't be bothered with his family or this mediocre life anymore. Ab recalled how upset his big brother had been when he had to return to Godric's Hollow to take care of them. He couldn't entirely blame him, but he'd rather Albus did just leave, sometimes. He could take care of Ariana himself and Albus could go on his stupid trip with Elphias Doge. It was obvious that was what he wanted. It wasn't that Al didn't care about them. He did,or he wouldn't insist that Ab finish school. It was just that he wanted to do something more with his life, while Aberforth had no such desire. He was perfectly content taking care of Ariana,for the rest of his life, if he had to. What was the shame in that?

While Ab was lost in thought, Ari made her move. "Check," she said, smiling proudly. Aberforth looked at the board, blinking. Often he let his little sister win. She was smart, brilliant really, and if it weren't for the attack she suffered when she was younger, she could have given Albus a run for his money as the brightest wizard Hogwarts had seen. But since the attack she was always distracted and jumpy, her moods were like a rollercoaster and she could be completely incoherent sometimes. He smiled and made another move, deliberately giving her the opportunity to check the king, but before she could, there was a knock on the door.

Ariana jumped, gazing at the door with wide eyes as if she wasn't quite sure what she had heard. Aberforth put his hand against her cheek and made her look at him. "It's okay. I'm right here. I'd never let anything happen to you, you know that," he told her in a soothing voice. She nodded, seeming to calm down. She was like that a lot, paranoid, prone to panicking at the littlest things. Ab had always been the one that could calm her down. Lately she'd been less prone to her usual rages. He knew she realized what happened to their mother, or at least that she was gone and not coming back, sometimes she seemed confused, as if she felt there was something missing, and then she would cry. Aberforth blamed himself for that. If he'd been there to calm her- well, he was never leaving her again. He was determined that he wouldn't let history repeat itself. Aberforth smiled and stood up, heading to the door. It was rare that anyone came over, so he had no clue who it could be. When he answered the door he scowled almost instantly. Gellert Grindelwald. There was something about the guy Ab couldn't stand. He couldn't quite pinpoint it, something about the arrogant way he seemed to hold himself, and the ever-present sour look on his face.

He didn't have the first clue what the boy was doing here. "What is it?" he asked, leaning lazily against the doorframe. Anyone that knew Aberforth would be surprised at how he acted toward his little sister. Most of the time he was a sarcastic, cynical, and altogether rude boy with no regard for authority or manners at all. That was the side shining through now. He heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Clearly Albus had heard the door. He smiled at Ariana as he reached the bottom of the stairs and then looked to the door, glancing between his brother and Gellert. "Don't be rude, Ab," he warned. Aberforth shrugged, moving so that Albus could talk to the boy. "Hello Gellert," he said with a smile. Ab rolled his eyes, going back into the living room. Ever since they met Grindelwald, Al seemed fascinated by him. He'd gone on and on about finally meeting someone that could understand him in Godric's Hollow, something Ab tried not to take offensively.


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