PRIVATE.

[___hey there ROVER]

if you ask me, fairy tales are traps.
even if you have high hopes - a pumpkin’s just a pumpkin.
but i think it’s too late, i’ve been feeling strange lately.
but i think it’s too late, i’ve been feeling strange lately...

[___hey there ROVER]

Introductions, I find, are always the most awkward part of every first conversation. But I will try to complete this as painlessly as I possibly can, as I can only imagine that you have far better things to do than to read about my boring life. My name is Icarus Dylan Royal. Apparently, from my quiet nature at birth, my parents thought of me as somewhat of a 'follower' - someone who was destined to be relatively ordinary. This, at least, was what I could derive from a stack of baby videos and a book of Greek mythos. My middle name is of similar meaning. But I don't fault them. In fact, I think it's a good thing. They've always let me lead a relatively independent lifestyle - my mother has, anyway.

You can call me Russ or Dylan or Dill. Whatever strikes your fancy, really. I'm rather indifferent when it comes to nicknames. That is, unless they're blatantly offensive. My sister, Mackenzie, for example, used to call me "Die." This had originally been an order which she would give me at the conclusion to our arguments, but after saying it so many times it gradually became more of a title. Luckily, this ended a few years ago, when we shared in a rather amicable discussion through the door to the closet I had locked her in.

Let's see. What's some other crap I can throw in? I'm just like any other fifteen-year-old boy, really. I was born on the fourth of September and so that would make me a virgo. Many people say it's a fitting astrological sign for me, but I don't know if I believe in any of that. And, also, I'm straight as a board when it comes to sexuality. Not that it's any of your business.

[___hey there ROVER]

ℓєт's dig α вiт dεερεя........................

▪ Just like any other human, there are things that I like:

To be honest, what I like more than anything is quiet. It keeps me cool, calm and collected. I grew up in a rather serious household, where the bubbliest of the five of us has always been my mother. So, I've never been much accustomed to a lot of noise. In fact, it tends to make me irritated - something I'll address below when we get to the quirks section. But I have real difficulty tuning things out. I guess you could say it's a weakness. The only type of real noise I'll tolerate without any irritation is probably rain. On the contrary, I find it quite soothing. I love to watch it shoot from the sky like an infinite number of rockets. I love to sit by a window and hear the echo of it as it drums on the rooftop or the patter of it as it hits the glass. I love to watch it slide down, vanquished, and play dead. And finally, I love to see it reincarnated and reborn, appearing later in the form of misty mornings or evening fogs.

Er, I've gotten carried away. What else is there? The Hogwarts Express is kind of nice. But what isn't there to like? The great green landscape, the gently rolling slopes and rocking cars, the way the cool glass fogs up beneath my breath. It's the perfect atmosphere for dozing or reading. I love informative books, you know. (I mean, given that I'm living in a fantasy world already, it would make sense that I'm not much interested in works of fiction.) Evolutionary biology, ancient history, and philosophy are some of my favorite subjects. Sometimes I like to ascend the stairs to the Owlery and visit Squib. He gets terribly bored up there, really. And he and I sit beneath the window, where the sun's shining through and it's warm and quiet, and we read together. Or, at least I read. Something like that. It's not strange for me to fall asleep there, either. I haven't gotten yelled at yet for it, so I can only assume that it's not against the rules. Not that that's of any real concern.

▪ And things that I don't:

Though a bit contradictory to the name of my owl, one of my least favorite terms in the world is mudblood. It's derogatory, offensive, and too often used in my opinion. I mean... you'd be hard pressed to find a pure blood with so much work ethic as any muggle or half-breed living in the real world. They have to constantly submit to manual labor to get anything done. There's no wave of a wand for them. And, anyway, on a more personal level, my sister is a so-called mudblood. She's had the worst of both worlds - made fun of for being strange in ordinary public schools because of unexplainable accidents and made fun of at Hogwarts this last year for her parentage - which, by the way, I share. My step-father, who I call my 'dad', sent Mackenzie a package with a whole lot of non-magic presents and several folks from Slytherin just walked all over her for it.

Speaking of Slytherins, my brother is another thing I don't particularly like. He's in his twenties now, long gone from Hogwarts, but he was one of those pure bloods that no half-breed or muggle could ever get along with. He was always so condescending while he was in school, even to our sister and her father. He's gotten better now, but I suspect that part of the reason is because he not at home anymore. Rather, he's off exploring the world and researching dragons. From time to time, he sends us all special reports and packs in a special gift for Mackenzie. But I suspect that his kindness is simply an act.

You'll hear more about that later.

I don't like sweets, either, you know. And if I eat them, I have to have a full glass of milk or water at hand to cancel out the sugar. Most of the time, if I receive them as part of some gift, I share them with my friends and be done with it - though this doesn't always go over so well with the giver. Once a girl who I thought was merely my friend gave me Valentine's Day chocolates. I was thankful and accepted them, but couldn't bare to eat them. She later found out that I'd simply handed them at lunch to some guys when one of them went over and thanked her for it. We never spoke again. You know, I don't even remember her name.

Let's see... Herbology is probably my least favorite subject. Though it's useful in Potions, which is a class I don't much mind, the room is always irritatingly noisy. The teacher, Zusman, doesn't help much either. She has a reputation throughout the school for being particularly boisterous. Her jokes, coupled with some foreign struggling, screeching plant life, make my life a little less worth living. This is the class I'm known to skip most often.

And everything else in the world, really. It's strange - I probably appear as a Grinch of a person. One must remember, however, that you can't judge a book by its cover.

▪ Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer.

[ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 ]


I'd like to think that I'm a fellow of at least about average looks. I won't dare be full of myself, but I'm not self-conscious, either. My face, framed with chestnut-colored hair and rather thick eyebrows, has a somewhat feminine shape and a beige complexion. I don't have any freckles and never have, though I secretly wanted them as a child. My bangs are irritatingly long and often side-swept. The length falls just below my ears. Sometimes I push it behind them to get it out of the way. My mouth is full, my nose long, and my eyes... well, they're ordinary. Their color is some sort of hazel, I guess. Folks often tell me, from the shape of them, that I look tired or aggravated.

But then again, I probably am.

I wear glasses over the wretched things from time to time, but I prefer my contact lenses because they're harder to misplace. My poor eyesight is somewhat of a recent phenomenon, actually, and so it's taking some getting used to. This is something I suppose my sister will exploit once we return to school, as she's been having loads of fun hiding everything I need in order to see and watching me bump around my room as though it's dark. Haha, Mackenzie. Very funny.

My body, on the other hand, isn't anything to write home about, I don't think. I stand at about six feet tall and I'm rather slim. The doctor last claimed that my weight was something around 135 pounds. This, my mother says, is a travesty. And she often sends me bread and cakes (which I hate) in reply to the letters to my step-father.

I generally wear rather formal attire. I'm a big fan of suits or dress pants, vests, and ties with a crisp button-down. I don't really even mind polos. And military jackets aren't so bad either. Some folks claim I'm gay because of my interest in fashion, but I'd like to say I'm just well-informed.

I'm getting bored talking about this, though. So let's move on to something else.

▪ Now, let's get a look at that heart:

Quote:

Rumor has it that Icarus is well-read and intelligent. By putting him in Ravenclaw, the Sorting Hat seems to confirm that this much is true. But if he weren't so damn lazy, it would be probably be far more obvious to the rest of the school. As previously written, he has been known to slip away from or altogether skip his classes. He procrastinates and delays his assignments until the last minute before they're due. And yet, he pours over books in his leisure with great interest and dedication.

Some of this is the fact that Icarus is just plain undisciplined. He can get caught in what he does or doesn't enjoy and, at times, selfishly and unthinkingly do simply what he wants at that time without considering the possible consequences. Some of this may also be due to the fact that Icarus is, in addition, a rather impatient fellow. If he perceives the class isn't going quickly enough, he loses all interest and it's difficult for the teacher to regain it again. When this happens (which is rare), he isn't loud-mouthed and disruptive to the class, but can be an eyesore during lessons that require active participation, from which he hangs back and does his own thing. And this can certainly be considered one of his many weaknesses, which can be read about below.

Beyond class - in every day life - Icarus is impatient with both friends and family. For example, he dislikes waiting past a meeting time. He also hates explaining himself or his actions and is quickly irritated by ridiculous or attention-gathering behavior. He has a reputation for being both critical and judgmental, but my thoughts are that he's really just brutally honest. And though most of what has been written about Icarus seems negative, this teenage boy is actually very kind at heart.

Truth be told, the Sorting Hat almost placed him in Hufflepuff. Icarus exhibited almost every trait - except for his impatience and lack of work ethic. He's a loyal guy, though. If you can stand him long enough to crack his outer shell, you have a friend for life. He'll defend you until the end. He won't hesitate to fight for what he believes in, even if it means getting a few scratches in the process.

▪ Gazing into the pensieve, this is what I see:

When I was born, it was to a family that was already in the process of splitting up. My father, though he had named me, left almost the full nine months before I came into the world. My mother, it appears, was unfazed by his disappearance. They had long been having trouble. From what my brother has said, Julius was like a black hole, a singularity. His negativity was a vacuum force. He expected the entire household to revolve around him. For a long time, it appears that it did. It was easy to get sucked in. He was both intelligent and manipulative - a deadly combination. And the most appealing thing for him about having children was the act of passing on his genes. He lacked any real interest in raising them himself.

There were also darker rumors that I had overheard in the presence of my maternal grandparents. There was talk that he was, as a child, fascinated with He Who Must Not Be Named. He had a very well-developed parsel-tongue, something my brother evidently inherited, and was accepted into Slytherin without question upon his entrance into Hogwarts. His parents also died rather suddenly in his sixth or seventh year. This is not to suggest that he's now involved in some world-dominating plot, of course. Or even that he was involved in their deaths. But there is some certainty, or at least some suspicion, that this was a turning point in Julius life. And after that he began practicing the Dark Arts.

Any negativity my father had left behind was easily canceled out by the return of my mother's bubbly personality. For the year on our own, she raised myself and my brother quite well. Everyone I've spoken to has described us both as overall 'happy' and 'ordinary' children. (Ordinary, of course, being taken positively in this situation.) But I think that my mother was secretly very lonely and the burden of raising two young kids on her own was difficult. She wasn't actively looking for love, but she wouldn't have minded if she found it.

And she did.

While on an errand from work outside of Diagon Alley to gather some books by muggle authors, she bumped into a man on the street and found her paperwork swept up by the wind. (At least, this is how the story has been told to me.) The man stopped and was quite apologetic, helping her gather every last form and file, and when the deed was done, he offered to take her for coffee to make up for the mishap. This was my step-father. He has later admitted that it was love at first sight. They were married some six months later.

From then on, I addressed the newcomer, Aaron, as 'dad'. After all, I didn't know any better. He was around from the time that I was a baby. James was not so supportive of the relationship. With an attitude so characteristic of our father, he instantaneously looked down on Aaron as a muggle, destined to bear mud-blood children into the family. He protested the union even more furiously after he found out our mother was pregnant.

Now, on the topic of Aaron being a muggle and all of the rest of us being magic-folk, my step-father readily accepted this fact. He was extraordinarily fascinated once it was proven to him that we did have special abilities, even a bit jealous. He spent weekends hauled up in his study, surrounded by books on the history of Wizardry and sometimes watching the pictures they included for hours on end as the subjects moved in cycles, performing tricks or perhaps simply performing mundane acts like picking at their ears while standing in place. He was positively thrilled at the possibility of his own child possessing some magical inclination.

This child, Mackenzie, was born when I was three. James, our brother, was... ten, I believe. She'll tell you more about that later and so I'll make my description of it short. I didn't care about her birth. My mother said I reacted to her presence by not reacting. Every day with her was just like every other day before. James, on the other hand, played mean tricks on her, to which I became accustomed to thwarting later in our lives together. Early on, he seemed intent on either causing misery to our mother or being rid of Mackenzie once and for all. There were several times when she had to be pulled in crying from outside in the middle of the night, where my brother had left her (albeit not realizing the full consequences of his actions). His admittance into Hogwarts not too long afterward came as a relief to the household.

My parents decided, for some reason or another, that when I was of age to attend primary school, they would send me to one for muggles. My mother now claims that it was to instill good values and to show me that things don't come for everyone at the wave of a wand. And I agree that she had a valid point. It wasn't until I was eight or nine that I started to not be able to control my magical outbursts. Those first three years of education are ones that I look back on with rather fond memories. (I sometimes still see my muggle friends in the summer months, but everyone thinks I simply attend a normal boarding school off in some remote part of England.)

When the outbursts became difficult to hide, my mother decided to have me home-schooled for the remaining two years until it became possible for me to attend Hogwarts. I entered with relatively the same personality as I have now. I was lazy and largely apathetic about common subjects, but fiercely loyal to my principles. The Sorting Hat originally considered placing me into Hufflepuff. My thirst for knowledge, however, was too strong, it claimed. And I wasn't at all patient enough to be put amongst them.

The rest is history, really. I made very few lasting friendships. I had little to no interest in maintaining them as they should be. I'm not very approachable. There was a girl I mentioned above who gave me Valentine's chocolate. But I've had just about as much interest in relationships as friendships. They're all troublesome things - not worth the time or the effort. I've also gained a bit of a reputation for easy to provoke into a fight if prodded in just the right way.

My brother has seemingly softened a bit to the idea of having a muggle and half-breed in the family. He sends us packages from dragon country with presents inside for Mackenzie. But I still have difficulty trusting him. My mother worries that he's come into contact with our real father. This makes me wonder if his kindness isn't simply an act. My brother and my father, from what I hear, are undoubtedly of the same breed. I was only lucky to have escaped his influence.

Mackenzie entered Hogwarts about a year ago this September. Like me, she's made few friends. She has a bit of a snobbish air about her and her words can be biting. I suppose it's front years of being subject to mockery. She was considered strange in elementary school and has here, thus far, been the plaything of the more elitist purebloods. I still spend some time defending her, which she bitterly resents.

And that's my life thus far.

▪ Yeah, I've got a scar or two:

In a fight with my brother when we were both younger, I got a serious knock on my head when I tripped into the corner of my living room table. It bled a lot, as head wounds often do, and left me with a moon-shaped scar just above my eye. But it's faded now and hardly worth mentioning, really.

▪ Don't forget the inside:

I often run my hands through my hair when I'm getting frustrated enough to explode. There isn't any real proper explanation for this - it isn't at all soothing and I can't, for the life of me, figure out where I picked it up. I also can't stand when people touch my face and often, instinctively, I brush my fingers over the same spot just after, as if it cleanses the area of any foreign contaminants.

▪ Certain things just make me weak in the knees:

One is my boggart, which I encountered in my third year. More can be read about that below.

Another weakness is my own laziness and procrastination when coupled with my big-headedness in regards to my intelligence (the one thing I have real confidence in). I've been known to fail a test or two because I thought I could make it with what I already knew.

And the third and final weakness is my willingness to become involved in physical squabbles, which ultimately lead to unwanted consequences. I was once the reason for my house losing enough points to put us in last place, when we were originally in first because I gave a guy a black eye and a bloody nose over some nasty comment he made to a girl in our class. I was shunned for a good week as a result. But I don't regret it one bit, really.

Huh. Maybe that's another weakness: I don't regret anything.

[___hey there ROVER]

нoмε is ωнεяε тнε нεαят is........................

...and my home is Ravenclaw, where I'm a fifth year.

My blood, by the way, is as pure as pure can be. Here's how:

Quote:

Father. Julius Astor Royal, unknown. Pureblood.

Mother. Lynn Eloise (Royal) Alvey, 48. Pureblood. Lynn is a sweet, bubbly woman, much like her husband. She's incredibly attentive to her children, but rather clueless. She grew up with incredible wealth, and though she was well-educated, common sense was something no one taught her. She is forgetful, clumsy, and a bit eccentric. Icarus doesn't think twice about reprimanding her for this. He is most often quoted as referring to her as his "troublesome mother."

Brother. James Connell Royal, 22. Pureblood. Icarus and James have a poor relationship. James possesses more Slytherin qualities, being intelligent, sly, cunning, and a whole other slew of darker traits. Though he has always been kind and supportive of his family, Icarus feels a deep uneasiness in his presence. They haven't met up in quite a while, seeing as James left on some sort of overseas expedition shortly after his time at Hogwarts. Lynn, their mother, has admitted some relief at this. Whenever she looks at the boy, she thinks of her previous husband and his more negative disposition.

Step-father. Aaron Dyson Alvey, 54. Muggle. Aaron works at a bank near one of the many entrances to Diagon Alley. He is fascinated with magic, much like Ron's father was fascinated with Muggle artifacts, and spends a lot of his spare time reading up on the history of the various wizards and warlocks of the world. His only biological child, Mackenzie, had wanted to take up studying at a human public school, but when the opportunity arose for her to attend Hogwarts, her father wouldn't have it any other way. Aaron and Icarus have a relatively good relationship, never minding that they're always referred to as 'father and son'. Icarus often indulges Aaron with owl messages, equipped with moving pictures, on whatever activities are going on at Hogwarts.

Half-sister. Mackenzie Fae Alvey, 12. Half-breed. Icarus and Mackenzie have, secretly, a very good relationship. Mackenzie is cold or jokes meanly to her brother at times, but is often caught doing motherly duties for him such as correcting his hair, wiping crumbs from his face, or sneaking into his room to bring him the glasses he's forgotten. Icarus often refers to her as his "troublesome sister", likening her to their mother, but it's obvious that he doesn't feel truly feel that way. After meeting up with her, he can often be seen turning away with a smile. He reprimands her for her stubbornness, snootiness, and lack of 'cuteness' and cruelly jokes that, with her intelligence and wit, she'll never find a good boyfriend.


My wand is vinewood, 7½ inches long, and with a core of merfolk hair. Its strengths are in healing and sleeping spells. And it's flexible.

My pet is a barn owl named Squib. Being as it's such an offensive term, my sister and I have always found it funny. (Seriously... every year someone complains.) Squib, of course, doesn't mind. Names are a non-issue. He's happy with the just the simpler things in life: attention, fresh mice, and the occasional pat on the head. If there's one thing I'm tired of, though, it's rescuing him from all of the ridiculous (and often perilous) situations he gets himself into due to his own insatiable curiosity. Enough is enough, already.

My own defense against the dark arts is my patronus. Spindling out of my wand in a glow of white, silver, and blue-gray, it takes the form of a snow leopard - long, lean, and battle ready. This can, evidently, be used to combat my boggart, my worst fear. I had never seen or heard of anything like a boggart until I started at Hogwarts. But my first sight of it was a terribly upsetting experience, as you might hear from others. I kind of hate mentioning it, really. I mean, after I learned my patronus, I started skipping classes when I knew a boggart was going to make his appearance.

What emerged from the trunk for me was a man representative of my real father, someone whom I've never seen the face of and know only by his name. He was, quite naturally, entirely featureless. But the menacing air he gave off was unbelievable. I couldn't even lift my wand to ward him off. Though other people had the same experience, it probably stands out as one of the most frightening - and embarrassing - moments in my life.

If I were to look into the Mirror of Erised, I would most likely see a blurry image staring back at me. There is no one thing that I want. Actually, quite honestly, I don't even know if I want anything at all.

But there are things that I'm talented in:

Charms, for example, is my strongest class, though it isn't my favorite. True to Ollivander's description of my wand, healing and sleeping spells are my expertise. I can easily land good grades without even hardly attending. I shouldn't get full of myself, however. Maybe the teacher just likes me?

UNDER CONSTRUCTION

I'm from a different class altogether:

Potions
Herbology
Defense Against the Dark Arts
Transfiguration
History of Magic
Astronomy
Charms
Care of Magical Creatures
Muggle Studies

[___hey there ROVER]

ғяiεиd oя ғoε...?........................

[ ∞ ]

Nothing can tear our love apart!

[ ♥ ]

I'm crushin'.

[ ☺ ]

We're good friends, right?

[ √ ]

You're okay in my book!

[ ✖ ]

I don't like it. Not one bit!

[ ☺ ] Icarus Dylan Royal
I call him nickname.
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bleebloobloobloodeedledeebleebloobloobloodeedledee
bleebloobloobloodeedledeebleebloobloobloodeedledee

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[ [color=symbolcolor]symbol[/color] ] [b]full name[/b]
I call him [i]nickname[/i].
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[___hey there ROVER]

Gяүғғiиdoя........................

[ ☺ ] Mackenzie Fae Alvey
I call her Mackenzie.
So, this is my sister. She's a Gryffindor and in her second year at Hogwarts. If you want to check out more about our relationship, just look up. It's grouped in with the rest of my troublesome family. My own personal take on Mackenzie, something onlookers may not recognize straight away, is that she's a good girl. And though sometimes she does rather mischievous things, she doesn't generally mean anything by them. If she found out that she caused any real harm, I think it would downright kill her. She and I never talk about personal things, really, but can read each other like a book anyway. I empathize with her and she empathizes with me. And rest assured we'll always tell one another the truth if asked - even if it's quite brutal. I'd never admit it, but I'm pretty lucky, I think, to have someone like her around.

[___hey there ROVER]

Slүтнεяiи........................

Slytherins here.

[___hey there ROVER]

яαvεиclαω........................

[ ☺ ] Jie Jiao
I call him Jie.
Under construction.

[___hey there ROVER]

<-- your image here please! No bigger than 400x400 please ^^

┏━━━━━━━━━┓
Gwyneth ☢ Farrah ☢ Cadwallader
┗━━━━━━━━━┛

- - { The [Files] Say . . .

I'm nineteen years old, but really it doesn't count so much nowadays. I was born on what most people considered to be the ninth of June. Just like everyone else, I was born on the oil rig, but though lonely sometimes, at least I have my number one. I know we have to leave soon, and (whichever fits) I support the idea. What else is there to say? I love old slice-of-life type novels, early morning jogs, and the unexpected and I hate wimps, finks, and being touched - but in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter. The only thing that does is that I can help the mission with my talent of good marksmanship and my all-out determination to survive.

- - { But the [Real] Me says . . .

bio/personality in about three paragraphs ^^ Include what you feel necessary, that might not have been covered by the previous paragraph, and/or you feel need to be elaborated on ^^ post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post

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- - { All that's [Left] to Say . . .

Pretty Crayon Color postingcolor
The Puppetmaster username

[___hey there ROVER]

| Horatio Marius Lupei| The Raw Instinct |

| | [Gender]
Male

| | [Age]
Nineteen

| | [Appearance]
Horatio is a young man of at least average looks, fuel on the fire of his overly-confident attitude. His face, framed with straight, medium-length, chestnut-colored hair and rather thick eyebrows, is gifted (from the perspective of some) with a feminine shape, in certain lighting giving him an almost angelic appearance. His complexion is an even beige, without freckles or any other obvious blemishes, though there is a surgical incision behind his left ear from a failed attempt at gaining his father's attention as a child. His eyes are hazel - nothing too extraordinary. There is no evil light glinting behind them that betrays his thoughts. His mouth is full and his nose long and bumpless. On the latter glasses are sometimes perched for distance, though he's a regular user of contact lenses because of their obvious convenience.

His body is average. Its appearance shows no sign of rigorous work-out routines nor, conversely, the early college career accumulation of ill-placed flab. Standing at six feet tall, he is, in fact, rather underweight for his height - only coming in at around 140 pounds. He is partial to formal attire and doesn't mind wearing suits and dress pants or vests with ties and crisp button-downs. But on the average day one would find him in a simple pull-over hoodie, a t-shirt, and some crappy, ripped up jeans.

| | [Personality]
To nearly everyone, Horatio comes across as charming. Though not very good at cracking jokes himself, he's the first to smile or laugh at the punchline of one told by someone else. He is both quiet and polite, favoring listening over speaking. And manners are always on his mind. He eats, sleeps, and breathes his education - consistently in the company of small-time politicians, forever seeming to hang on their every word, taking notes with his mind. To start his career off on the right foot, he's even participated in several neighborhood charities on his family's behalf - after all, they have the money and relative community recognition. And, though it isn't many, folks who know him say he's "a nice boy. Smart, kind, receptive - the works." In the future, they postulate, he might be what they're looking for.

Now, Horatio wouldn't be a villain if he didn't have some obvious faults. Perhaps his interest in politics set you to anticipating the following, as no one has a particularly kind view of politicians.



In addition, almost as if possessed by some alternate personality, his actions toward the experiments are surprisingly cold and condescending. He

| | [History]
((Describe your characters background, and events in their life thus far))

| | [Connection]
((Put your character's connection to the experiments here))

| | [Username]
((You username goes here.))

[___hey there ROVER]

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmistress: ELIZABETH LOOTER
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. Chf. Witch, Surpreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)





Dear [ username ],



We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 4th. We await your owl by no later than August 20th.



Yours Sincerely,

Deputy Headmistress

[August 19th is the due date of your profile. No worries, though; it's a week from now and I'm pretty lenient. ;3]

[___hey there ROVER]

His name is Gabriel Valentine Dittmar and he figures himself a giant amongst men. Now, his middle name is often mispronounced, which is a little mistake, but a big annoyance for him. So let me give you a helpful hint to staying on his good side: it's VALEN-TEEN not VALEN-TINE. Never ever pronounce it otherwise.

[___hey there ROVER]