Post by mary on Feb 17, 2013 13:03:19 GMT
mary ava macdonald
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full name: Mary Ava Macdonald
age: Seventen
year: Seventh
birthday:November 1st, 1960
blood line:Muggleborn
occupation:Student
former / house: Gryffindor
"Mary Ava Macdonald, look at the state of your clothes young lady!"
You lived to make your mother's life miserable. No, actually, you didn't, but your mother would often make such a claim. Whenever you came home trailing mud, your clothes and hair in disarray, with a manic grin on your tiny face. It would take her hours to get all the stains of your skirts (which you loathed with a passion - they weren't the least bit practical) and shirts, and she would complain for hours afterwards about how ungrateful her daughter was, that she never cared for all the beautiful things her parents got her. Or, when you'd come home with some sort of animal or bug tucked under your jacket or inside a jar. Your mother would shriek and tell you get rid of the bloody thing, while your father laughed behind her and you made your best efforts to look like a puppy so she would let you keep them. It was how you got your two cats and dog. And you would have gotten so much more if they hadn't told you enough was enough.
two .
"See, it was magic! I knew I wasn't a freak!"
You were always able to do strange things. From that time the neighbors cat scratched you and it suddenly appeared on their roof, with no visible way to get there, to that time you changed your shirt's colour (and your mother stared at that shirt four the longest of times, swearing up and down it was pink the last time she had washed it), with many other occurrences in between. You, of course, were fascinated by this, and tried to make things happen willingly, with no such luck. Your parents, of course, deemed it as the product of an overly active imagination, and would smile when you tried to show them your "powers" and nothing happened. But you knew better. You knew there was something the matter with you. And for lack of a better word, you called yourself a freak.
The answers came much later, a little before you turned eleven, when a stern looking lady showed up at your doorstep and introduced herself as Prof. Minerva MacGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The explanation was a tad hard to believe, but of course it would. After all, it wasn't every day a complete stranger showed up at your door telling your parents you were a witch. You, of course, believe it, and couldn't be more happy. It had all been explained and you knew what you were. And what's more: there was a special place where people like you could be taught. Magic! You'd get to learn magic!
three .
"Bloody hell Macdonald, it's red!"
"It's just a simple hair dye potion"
The Sorting Hat had problems when it came to decide whether you'd do best in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. In the end though, it seemed the Gryffindor in you won the battle and you were placed within the Lion's House. And you're quite happy with that, cause your housemates are your second family, and you're sure this doesn't happen with other houses (even though it probably does). Yet, you proved to be an extremely bright and capable witch, and there was hardly any potion or spell you struggled with. And that was why you first tried to make an hair dye potion. And once it proved to work, it was quite hard to make you return to your previous and natural blonde color. You'd constantly shift between black and red, but you mostly stuck with red. There was something about being a read-head that made you happy.
four .
"So, are you trying out for the Quidditch team?"
"hmmm, I guess"
You never expected to make it into the Quidditch team. You had taken flight lessons on your first year, and had liked it well enough to force your parents to buy you a broom so you could ride around during summer break. And Quidditch. Well, you fell in love with a sport. It was somewhat ridiculous from a muggle point of view, but nevertheless it was oddly fascinating, and you found yourself loving the sport and doing your research, and forcing your friends to teach you some. But you never thought about joining the team. You were happy enough with just cheering for them. But they were lacking chasers, and opened tryouts. And you were somewhat coerced into trying out. But you weren't expecting to be that good. Or to make it. But you did. And Quidditch practice has become a regular thing in your routine since your fourth year.
five .
"Don't you turn your back on me you filthy mudblood."
There are those who don't like when muggleborns show signs of magic and are allowed into the school. You learnt this pretty much from the start. Muggleborns were often targeted by purebloods. And if it wasn't for mulciber, you would consider yourself one of the lucky ones. However, it seems he has something specific against you. You don't really know what it is that makes him so keen on making you miserable, and you don't recall ever having done something to him to ever piss him off, but the truth his, he can't stand the sight of you. And throughout most of your time at Hogwarts, you managed to put up with him quite nicely, by simply ignoring him. Yes, you dealt quite well with the verbal attacks, those are easy to ignore.
Spending a week in the hospital wing is a bit harder to ignore. Even today, the details of what happened that day are a bit hazy - or maybe you forced yourself to forget most of it - you still don't know what it was that actually made him attack you. But then again, people like him don't really seem to need reason for doing something do they? He did it for fun. You remember only two things. One, staring at the ground from the top of the Astronomy tower without having any control over your body, and the other is the pain - the intense, blinding pain, that made you wish you were dead while he laughed at your agony. The unbearable pain that caused your body to shut down. when you woke up, you were in the hospital wing, and it would take you a week before you were allowed to go back to classes. and by then, it seemed, everyone knew. And for a while, all you say were sympathetic looks, pity looks, and devious smirks. Your friends refused to leave your side for a while, not wanting you to be targeted again. Only when it seemed Mulciber was no longer an evident threat did they agree to leave you alone. Mulciber, however, never truly left you alone, no. Where would be the fun in that? He is that constant presence in your life. The shadow lurking everywhere you go. The constant reminder of what happened to you, and a warning of what can still happen. The nightmare you doubt you'll ever wake up from.
six .
"Miss Macdonald? Might I have a word?"
"Yes professor. Is everything alright?"
"Yes, yes, child. I just wanted to talk to you about your grades. You've improved a lot since last year, which is astonishing given that..."
She shuts up, not wanting to finish that though, though you know very well what she wants to say. That it's amazing that someone who got attacked in the beginning of the year managed to achieve and maintain such high grades. You pretend you didn't notice her slip up. How could you not have good grades? Lately, all you seem to do is study. It's one of the few things you can do and not have people hovering. Also, studying actually keeps your mind off of what happened. So, you do it, and before you know it, your grades are improving, and people are amazed. You could care less.
"what i wanted to ask you child is, have you thought about your future?"
Of course you have. You dread your future, especially if there's a chance of Mulciber being in it. But of course she doesn't mean it that way, so you know that's not the answer you should give. So, you nod some and she stares at you expectantly. you swallow some.
"St. Mungo's" And the word is barely a whisper leaving your mouth.
"Come again?"
"St. Mungo's professor. I would like to become an Healer"
"Oh, that's wonderful news, child! You certainly have the grades and the potential for that"
It's funny to think how some great things can come from some terrible, terrible things. If it wasn't for the attack, you would never have to spend so much time in the hospital wing, and as such, you'd never get attracted to the healing career. Even though you'd always found it interesting, you never had considered it as a career until the attack. So, you could say, Mulciber is the reason for your choice, or you'd say that if he ruled every minute of your life. And he doesn't, you refuse to let him. No, this choice was made for yourself and yourself alone. You did this for yourself and you're going to become the best damn healer the world has ever seen. no matter what.
seven .
"Hogwarts isn't safe anymore. Not for people like me anyway"
Albus Dumbledore is dead. Lord Voldemort rules. Hogwarts is no longer safe for those who aren't of pure blood. And while there are some of you who managed to keep their blood status a secret, you aren't one of them. Cause Mulciber knows. And everyone knows. And you fear for your life.
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alias: Fran
gender: I be a girl
rp sample:
For something that was supposed to be off-limits to students, and a secret, it seemed that half the school knew about the kitchen’s location and the other half knew how to get in. So, it was likely that one would always end up running into someone else there, most likely a fellow insomniac or someone who was really hungry. It seemed that the kitchen was more or less neutral ground, when it came to house rivalries. Most people just went there for the food, and happily kept to themselves, preferring to enjoy the meal rather than getting into fights. Of course that there was the odd Slytherin that had to go and make everyone else leave, but then again, Slytherins always seemed to be the exception to everything didn’t they?
And so, Mary wasn’t at all surprised when she heard the door open, followed by the chatter of the house elves at the newcomer, so she didn’t even bother to look up from her book, instead taking another sip and ignoring the commotion around her. She wasn’t at all interested in who it might be, and if it happened to be someone she knew, she had no doubt she’d be approached sooner or later. So, she might as well enjoy her book while it didn’t happen. If it were to happen. The elves, it seemed, had scattered off, probably to do whatever it was that had been requested of them this time. And for a moment those were the only noises she could hear.
That was, of course, until someone dropped something right next to her with a loud clank.
The female slammed her book shut abruptly, positive that her heart had just stopped for a few seconds and turned to look at whomever it was, already trying to come up with a brilliant yet incredibly ridiculous excuse as to why she was there in the first place when she noticed who it was. Letting out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, Mary let her head drop to the table, forehead coming in contact with the book she had brought with her. “Would you fancy to kill your dear dear friend, James? Cause I believe you just gave me a tiny heart attack.” she commented darkly before sitting up straight again to grin at her friend. “This hot chocolate happens to be a speciality, the only polite thing to do is ask for some. I don't want to offend them... And I said please and thank you, so it hardly counts as coercing. Not that those guys would need any of it.” she added, nodding to where the house elves were busy doing whatever it was they were doing... was that a pumpkin?
Mary returned her attention to her friend, frowning slightly. "Speaking of which. Aren't you the almighty Head Boy now? Shouldn't you be doing some almighty Head Boy things? You know... away from the kitchens?" she wasn't telling him to go away, she was merely curious as to why he was there. She was pretty sure he should be out patrolling the hallways or something of the sort.
[/blockquote]And so, Mary wasn’t at all surprised when she heard the door open, followed by the chatter of the house elves at the newcomer, so she didn’t even bother to look up from her book, instead taking another sip and ignoring the commotion around her. She wasn’t at all interested in who it might be, and if it happened to be someone she knew, she had no doubt she’d be approached sooner or later. So, she might as well enjoy her book while it didn’t happen. If it were to happen. The elves, it seemed, had scattered off, probably to do whatever it was that had been requested of them this time. And for a moment those were the only noises she could hear.
That was, of course, until someone dropped something right next to her with a loud clank.
The female slammed her book shut abruptly, positive that her heart had just stopped for a few seconds and turned to look at whomever it was, already trying to come up with a brilliant yet incredibly ridiculous excuse as to why she was there in the first place when she noticed who it was. Letting out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, Mary let her head drop to the table, forehead coming in contact with the book she had brought with her. “Would you fancy to kill your dear dear friend, James? Cause I believe you just gave me a tiny heart attack.” she commented darkly before sitting up straight again to grin at her friend. “This hot chocolate happens to be a speciality, the only polite thing to do is ask for some. I don't want to offend them... And I said please and thank you, so it hardly counts as coercing. Not that those guys would need any of it.” she added, nodding to where the house elves were busy doing whatever it was they were doing... was that a pumpkin?
Mary returned her attention to her friend, frowning slightly. "Speaking of which. Aren't you the almighty Head Boy now? Shouldn't you be doing some almighty Head Boy things? You know... away from the kitchens?" she wasn't telling him to go away, she was merely curious as to why he was there. She was pretty sure he should be out patrolling the hallways or something of the sort.