Post by dashiell jameson peakes on May 10, 2012 19:48:06 GMT
| [atrb= border, 0, true][cs=2][bg=080808] MINISTRY OF MAGIC DOCUMENT | |
| [bg=252525] [/style] | [bg=252525][style=overflow: auto; width: 300px; height: 300px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; padding-right: 5px; padding-left: 5px; color: #909090; line-height: 100%; background: #252525; ] FULL NAME: Dashiell Jameson Peakes. GENDER: Male. DATE OF BIRTH: April 22. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Abraxas-Sexual. CURRENT RESIDENCE: Hogwarts; Rural Norfolk. CURRENT OCCUPATION: Student; muggle general store cashier. HOGWARTS HOUSE: Gryffindor, 5th Year. BLOOD STATUS: Mixed; Halfblood? WAND: Cedar wood, 10½ inches, springy, hippogriff feather core. PERSONALITY: "I'm just. That's pretty much me in a nutshell. Don't get the wrong idea, though. I'm not Hufflepuff material. I won't work hard and whine when something isn't fair. I loudly exclaim when things aren't fair (unless it gives our Quidditch team an advantage over another!) and will not back down until I get my chance. This doesn't always settle well with some of the Professors, and I've gotten two detentions in the last three years, as a result of my strong sense of justice. I hate the idea that someone should not get their just desserts, and find teacher favouritism to be lecherous. I'm not really too well-liked by any of the teachers as a result. Being highly opinionated is a strength, in my eyes. Some of my other strengths include my protective spells — really, try to break one! — and also my wicked beater skills. No one can hide from the bludgers I whack around. However, I'm not the best on a broom. I mean, I can stay on and do all the basic maneuvers, but I prefer to stay in one place and just aim for all those Chasers zooming around. I'm not a Seeker for a reason. More importantly, I am terrible in classrooms. I guess that Goldstein would say I just do not try hard enough and am lazy, but in my second year I did actually try really hard, and struggled for a passing grade. It's not that I'm dumb. I read a bit more than some kids. I just don't care to memorize facts. I'm better off knowing how to handle an irate Slytherin than knowing how many bezoar's stones to drop into that potion we made last week. I'm entirely street smarts, with some word-smarts thrown in for flavour. The only class I seem to do well in is Defense Against the Dark Arts. It's easy and interesting. Most of the other classes seem to struggle for even one of those. It's obvious that I hate transfigurations class, then. All that dainty wand-waving and phrasing is so... delicate and frustrating. I also hate the damned staircases in the castle. Half of the time, they're going in a direction opposite from where I need to go. So I get stuck waiting until they move back for me. Been late to a few classes that way. So, I might have had Alyssa's essay in my hand at the time, but I was simply returning it. Not copying it at all. Returning it. I cannot stand alcohol, as I discovered last year. I feel like such a bore, after finding that out. I'm probably doomed to have six cats and dress them all like famous witches and wizards. Lastly, I hate people who make that shushing sound. It's not a quiet noise at all, and will only make me talk louder. Now as for some things I do like... Cheesecake. I would marry a tortoise if it offered me a cheesecake as a dowry. I thoroughly enjoy smacking people in the heads with bludgers. I mean, it's their faults if they're not paying attention, you know. It's also my job- and one I've been fulfilling since the third year! I love that feeling of air rushing through hair when you're flying, and the thrill you get when you sudden drop a hundred feet. Another thing I love, and I know it is weird, is the smell of rubber, like on tires. I like history. Not the class, blegh, but the topic. I'm not interested in the dates or the specifics, but history is just one awesome story, you know? It's like an adventure no one has really told yet, and.... now you probably think I'm a geek. I'm not, I just like talking to the ghosts when I'm bored. They find me too loud and silly, though and often act too haughty. I guess I would be haughty too, if I were dead. I fear death, I guess. Maybe everyone does. I am not so much afraid of being dead as much as I am of the process of dying. It's never a comfortable process. I don't handle pain well. It's why I tried out for beater. I am on the other end. I also fear leaving Hogwarts. I've made great friends in our little group. I cannot imagine having to leave them to go off in my own direction. I haven't even thought too much about what I'll do after I leave Hogwarts." BACKGROUND: "You've probably met my older brother. He's a Ravenclaw student, about... yay-high? Huh, well maybe not. I suppose I am louder than he is. Can't blame him though. Those Ravenclaw fellows tend to stick to themselves. He's simple. Brilliant. Logical. You know, the stereotype. My parents were both Gryffindor students, just like my grandparents. I suppose it's a sort of tradition. They didn't seem too upset when my brother was sorted into Ravenclaw though. Maybe a bite confused. My mother's name's Eleanor and she absolutely hates her name. Friends shorten it to El, which she says is cuter. I don't really care, one way or another. She's a bit plain, despite being a Gryffindor. I think that the sorting hat put her in there simply for the sake of tradition. She works at Diagon Alley at The Three Broomsticks. Not entirely proud of herself, but it means free food there for me. Can't complain about that! My father's working for the International Magical Trading Standards Body, although I haven't the slightest clue what the hell that means. He deals a lot with numbers, and seems to be so absorbed in his work that he'd forget to eat if it weren't for my mother. His name is Trent. His name's not nearly as old-spirited as 'Eleanor', although they are both middle-aged anyway. Once upon a time, they were young and energetic. Then they had two children, mum grew squat, and dad grew tired. It was almost as if a spell was cast upon them. They gave up their hopes and dreams, in the risky gamble that they'd enjoy their children just as much. Having been dealt a weak hand, they still work themselves tired. I think they're still trying to prove to each other that they made the right decision. They're entirely dependent upon each other. Well, they probably didn't know what to do with me. There are stories of how quiet and calm my brother was, and they complain about how I cried all the time in infancy... How I'd colour on the walls... How I would snatch their wands when they'd placed them somewhere unsafe. I think I sound hilarious, but maybe that's just me. I grew up alongside the Muggles, actually. Well, not directly along them, but there wasn't any barriers there to stop me should I have wanted to roll around with one in the mud. I was just as excited as any other kid when I got my Hogwarts acceptance letter, although I never doubted for a moment that I would get it. It was when I had traveled to Diagon Alley with my mother and older brother to shop for school supplies — dad had to work again, see — that I ran into another young wizard. He certainly wasn't shy, and we sparked a conversation like it was fire, and we flint and steel. Mum had to practically tear me away from the conversation, as we got to showing each other our wands (not like that, you pervert). It seemed to be fate that we would be in the same house, for we met again at the Station, and it was an unsaid decision to sit in the same train car. Here we spoke of ourselves and others, like children excited to watch a film. After we were both sorted into the same house, the rest was just cozy history. We met Davies and his friend Longbottom, and they joined our dynamic duo to create a fearsome foursome. Later, we'd gain an unlikely new friend in a Ravenclaw student. I like to think of him as the voice of reason, although maybe none of us should be referred to as reasonable. In my third year at Hogwarts, I decided to try out for the Quidditch team. My grandfather had been a beater (on Harry Potter's team, no less!), and so I felt it was in my blood to try out for the same position. Luckily I'd been practicing. I wasn't yet fantastic; I hadn't ridden a broom in two years. Still, I barely out-played an underskilled fourth-year and gained a spot. The following year I would heckle Abraxas to join the team. The only thing whatever would make Quidditch better would be having a close friend to share in the sweaty horseplay. This year, I am afraid that I am not prepared at all for my O.W.L.s. Normally I wouldn't be so worried, but they're step one to finding yourself in a dead-end job in The Three Broomsticks. Maybe I can sidle up to Abraxas and ask him to coach me through study sessions, late at night!" |
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DASHIELL PEAKES | FIFTEEN | GRYFFINDOR | LIAM PAYNE | RODERICH
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