But I mostly go by Cat or Ece [e -JE], only my mum calls me Lovelet
I'm a girl
I'm 11 years old.
My birthday is November, 17th.
My dream job is a reporter, you get to hear everyone's business and get paid for it.
My blood status is half-blood? Mum, a muggle sorta of and I'm guessing my da is a wizard. Though my mother says that she's a squib. Whatever that is.
This is going to be my 1st year at Hogwarts.
The house I'm in is Gryffindor. Bah.
I'm interested in I don't know, lots of things... OH! You meant people. I'm interested in them too.
I'm currently with my mum. You mean relationship like, like a couple? WHAT DO YOU THINK!? Berk, I'm 11!
People say that, in a nutshell, I'm a bit sharp and not in the smart way. Which I think is just spite talking. My mum says I'm nosy, but I just like knowing things about my betters. Gossip has power, I've felt it and haven't liked it. Keeping tabs on it sometimes makes me sick, but it keeps me entertained most of the time. It's the frivolous things people do and say that make or break a person. As I said, my mum says I'm nosy. I'm not. I just like to know things, hear things, spread things, pick locks to get at things nothing wrong with that. You can experience things by reading them or you can do it by exploring, but few mix the two. I do though. I tend to think I'm a touch more clever than others, but then I ramble on and on it seems like I'm an airhead. I switch topics like I'm mad sometimes. I start talking about one thing end on a completely different point. Often within the same breath. Yet I think it one of the many specially things about me. Trust me, I know I'm special. I've got talents, loads of them. My mum doesn't know, that I knew that I was something extra special. I wasn't sure what, of course. But sometimes odd things would happen...I'll stop here.
My background story is to short to be interesting. I'm 11 after all. 10 and 1 years isn't much to talk about. I've got my Mum and no Da. Which is fine with me, but I know he's last name, Blanche. I looked it up, it means 'white' or 'blank'. I suppose it reflect he's place in my life. It's a big blank spot I got teased over. It was bad when I was first starting Primary surrounded by dim wits and berks. Now though it's not so bad. Plenty have learned that father's can leave you at anytime, especially for page 3 girls or if they are in the closet. Sometimes it's even worst than that and I don't be grudge them that fate. Mum assures me that my Da is out there somewhere and he didn't leave because he didn't want me. He even left me things, which I'll get at later...if I remember to get there. Know what I'll just tell you.
Mum use to keep the items in a locked box she stashed under her bed. She would pull it out when she thought I wouldn't notice, to look at what was inside. I think she misses him more than she lets on, but I don't ask. I won't ask about him. Partly cause I've looked in the box. I was 8 and I had settled into my room, flat quiet, going to work at the lock. I'd been teaching myself, ever since the event of my first picture day. Worst day of my life, 6 year old me sitting at my table minding my own business, when the stupidest git in my class come over with his gang. Most of it was just words, but the gumby blow a bubble and pops it in my hair! I wailed and screamed, the teachers decided to hold off the pictures till the next day. That night my mum clipped it short, my long wavy black hair, making me look like a boy. I cried so hard, I yelled that want the boy's face to be filled with pillocks and his hair to fall out. I went to school the next day to find that the boy face had filled with pillocks like rash and he's hair singed. I can't tell you how pleased I was, my Mum not so much. She told me later that day about the box and that "When the time was right" she'd open it and tell me. Since then I had decided that the time had been right the moment I'd seen the box.
In it is a key, 6 letters (3 from my mother 3 from my father), and a silver trinket. I think the trinkets was a gift, it looks expensive. As for the key, I know it's for a bank box and some other old junk. The Letters, well, I won't share those. The last one to be sent by my father's held the key and instructions of some sort, along with a promise to enroll me in school. If it had been for the owl a few months ago, I'd have no idea what school he was talking about.
I enjoy plenty of things. A warm bed, a nice cuppa, maybe good company or a book. Oh, better yet a nice bowl of blancmange or a box of Turkish Delights. Crackers are nice too, but you only get those for Christmas which is foolish really. Oh I do enjoy a good surprise like pasties with gooey centers or surprise trips to the beach or a the countryside. The mist, the dark cloudy skies and the threat of showers make those feel like there is something hidden or coming. I use to love pretending that there was a sea monster or a forest creature that dwell beyond my reach, that only I controlled. I had fun imagining that it was terrifying my enemies to death.
I despise snobby gits who look down at me, especially those that claim they just want to help. Like their good deeds aren't filled with self interest, I'd said it reeks with it. My mum says I'd hate politicians, I probably would. Everyone has an agenda, a plan or scheme; my mum made that clear to me. The trick is to figure it out and use it against them or for them. Most are innocent enough, but some. . .I'm not the best when it comes to saints either. They look down on me too, mostly cause I've got a pretty good sheet. They sit there being all noble and forever kind, not a toe out of line. It's so boring. I get bored just looking at them. Which is something I can't stand, being bored. I hope magic classes aren't boring. I want to control this talent of mine quickly and then do cool things with it like painting my nails. My mum says that I can't use magic like that and certain not out of school, which I say is bull! I'll get a wand, learn the rules, and then rules how to break them without truly breaking them. Since the Wizarding coppers, at least those who swing by my mum's shop don't seem the sort to go easy on a girl.
I'm afraid of... well, I normally don't share this, but this is all privy to no one of importance. Getting caught. I know, as a rule breaker it comes with the deal, but I hate my mum's face when she lectures me. Like I not only did I break her precious china, but then I told her it didn't matter. I know each of the items in her shop matter to her, they are like gems to others. I hate the disappointment and...shame on her face. She seems to age and tire with each report, she's my only family. I've no grandparents and my Da's off in Wonderland. She's the only one who'd miss me if something happened. But I can't help it that the world seems so slow! I need to go, learn, control, share... even if people don't want me learning or go anywhere near certain things. I'm afraid of disappointing her, worst of all I fear losing her. Death isn't as scary as losing another to it.
My strengths are...well, this is a mood changer. I don't know where to begin on this fine list. My cleverness, my intelligence or maybe my quick thinking. Perhaps it's my charm, not many admit it, but I do possess that (pretty sure I do). No! No! I've got the top... my memory. I won't tell you every minute of everyday of my life so far (there aren't many really...for 11 years), but I can memorize pretty much anything. From faces to papers, numbers to paragraphs in a book. . . my only weakness. . .
My flaws are remembering names. Not names of places, for some reason. Names of people. For some reason I can't name (ha), I am likely not to remember your name. I'll recall clothes and attitude, but names...It's so frustrating that I have to work harder to remember names. Even of historical people with their names thrown everywhere! It is the one thing I DESPISE ABOUT MYSELF! That and maybe my temper...
I look like me. Not sure you want a description, it's barely a high point of mine. I've got incredible good hair; full, black, glossy waves of hair. They rest near about my shoulders. I've a olive complexion, lighter my mum's with slimmer version of her nose and mouth (small blessing since I don't want it to look like a bee stung me. Looks okay on her though). I think my eyes are the most amazing part of me, a beautiful silvery grey. I think it explains my father's last name. I'm tall for my age, taller than most of the boys at school... about 1.32 meters.
My wand is brittle, about 14 and quarter inches made of pine wood with Unicorn tail at it's core.
My pet is a tawny owl named Sir Luckless after the chap in the Tales. He's got a terrible talent for landing in the poorest of places.
Oh yes, there's something else I need to tell you!
Since my father never truly married my mother, I don't truly get to use his last name, but since my parents decided that they were and lived like it. I use it...when I see fit.
~ ♥ Cara ɱк
~Utsuha
