Harry Potter had Hogwarts. You'll have something else.
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An American Magic Quest
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Author Notes & Character Creation
- Location
- US
The impetus behind this quest is quite simple. I love Harry Potter. The books and the universe created by J.K. Rolling will always be one of my favorites. That being said, something I've always felt to be lacking was her world building outside of the scope of the series. In general, what she came up with after the Deathly Hallows has been anywhere from okay to just plain awful. And nothing exemplifies this more (to me at least) than her world building of Magical America.
Wizarding Britain is charming, steeped in lore and mystery. It's engaging, unique and full of wonder. The American equivalent is just lazy, low effort and stale. Rolling more or less copy and pasted Magical Britain onto a shallow and clumsy understanding of America.
Look at the differences between the magical schools from the books and those created afterwards. Beauxbaton and Durmstrang, from what little we see of them, are bursting with character and life. They feel fully realized as Magical Schools, yet distinct from the one we know the best. Ilvermorny on the other hand, is just worse Hogwarts with an awkwardly applied coat of American wallpaper.
And don't get me started on Quodpot or No-Maj. She might as well hold up a sign that says all Americans are drooling idiots.
Regardless, the idea to actually develop and expand Magical America has been kicking around my head for a while and I feel that there's a lot of potential to explore here. So, I'm more or less taking everything J.K. Rolling put down about Wizarding America and throwing it out the window. Making it a blank slate and building it up into something that hopefully makes more sense.
So without further adieu, let's get started. First off is character creation. Or the start of it anyway. I've already done a fair amount of world building, but I can't get into the nitty gritty until I have the MC decided.
Note: I don't think I'd be able to write a female lead especially well (despite having a female twin) so there will only be male options to choose from.
So who is our lucky eleven year old going to be?
[ ] Bartholomew Branfield - Washington
[ ] Luca Osgood - New York
[ ] Grover Oldbarrow - Wyoming
[ ] River Morrow - Vermont
[ ] Nicholas Norrington - Maryland
[ ] Julius Fausten - Ontario
[ ] Warren Lanley - Connecticut
[ ] Royal Edgecombe - Kentucky
[ ] Benjamin Asher - Michigan
[ ] Finn Coeurdefee - Louisiana
If you think there's not a lot to work with, I know, it's purposeful. One of my goals in this quest is to try and make it have an air of mystery and wonder. Listing every single pro and con about each possible choice defeats that purpose. I want the reader to feel just a little bit like the MC, not quite knowing where their decisions will lead.
Building off that idea, you'll be in control of (able to vote on) the things that the character would have some agency in (likes, dislikes, traits, skills, strengths, weaknesses, and so on). On the other hand, the things outside of their control (name, where they live, wealth, status, and so on) will be already baked into the character. So you get their name and what state/province they're from to give just a hint of who they might be.
I'll leave the vote up for a while as I keep world building and desperately try to figure out the mechanics. Enjoy.
Wizarding Britain is charming, steeped in lore and mystery. It's engaging, unique and full of wonder. The American equivalent is just lazy, low effort and stale. Rolling more or less copy and pasted Magical Britain onto a shallow and clumsy understanding of America.
Look at the differences between the magical schools from the books and those created afterwards. Beauxbaton and Durmstrang, from what little we see of them, are bursting with character and life. They feel fully realized as Magical Schools, yet distinct from the one we know the best. Ilvermorny on the other hand, is just worse Hogwarts with an awkwardly applied coat of American wallpaper.
And don't get me started on Quodpot or No-Maj. She might as well hold up a sign that says all Americans are drooling idiots.
Regardless, the idea to actually develop and expand Magical America has been kicking around my head for a while and I feel that there's a lot of potential to explore here. So, I'm more or less taking everything J.K. Rolling put down about Wizarding America and throwing it out the window. Making it a blank slate and building it up into something that hopefully makes more sense.
So without further adieu, let's get started. First off is character creation. Or the start of it anyway. I've already done a fair amount of world building, but I can't get into the nitty gritty until I have the MC decided.
Note: I don't think I'd be able to write a female lead especially well (despite having a female twin) so there will only be male options to choose from.
So who is our lucky eleven year old going to be?
[ ] Bartholomew Branfield - Washington
[ ] Luca Osgood - New York
[ ] Grover Oldbarrow - Wyoming
[ ] River Morrow - Vermont
[ ] Nicholas Norrington - Maryland
[ ] Julius Fausten - Ontario
[ ] Warren Lanley - Connecticut
[ ] Royal Edgecombe - Kentucky
[ ] Benjamin Asher - Michigan
[ ] Finn Coeurdefee - Louisiana
If you think there's not a lot to work with, I know, it's purposeful. One of my goals in this quest is to try and make it have an air of mystery and wonder. Listing every single pro and con about each possible choice defeats that purpose. I want the reader to feel just a little bit like the MC, not quite knowing where their decisions will lead.
Building off that idea, you'll be in control of (able to vote on) the things that the character would have some agency in (likes, dislikes, traits, skills, strengths, weaknesses, and so on). On the other hand, the things outside of their control (name, where they live, wealth, status, and so on) will be already baked into the character. So you get their name and what state/province they're from to give just a hint of who they might be.
I'll leave the vote up for a while as I keep world building and desperately try to figure out the mechanics. Enjoy.
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A Story Begins 1.1
- Location
- US
[X] Finn Coeurdefee - Louisiana
If one were to take a stroll through the Garden District in the port city of New Orleans, they would find it unsurprisingly empty. It was the heart of summer after all, and summer in Louisiana is something to be endured at best - run away from when possible.
Besides the lack of pedestrians, one would take note of the usual for this particular locale: grand double gallery houses of many different hues, processions of southern oaks with long and elegant branches, surprisingly not as many gardens as one might guess from the name, and of course enough bars that you couldn't throw your hat without hitting one.
Yes, the people of New Orleans love their bars. Or is it that they love to drink and where better than a bar? Either way, it was a safe bet that these many establishments: sticky dive bars, overly loud sports bars, whiskey soaked cigar lounges, overpriced college bars, the occasional daiquiris bar and many more, were the host of myriad New Orleans residents (and not a few tourists) trying to escape the heat with a good drink or five.
Yes, a normal summer day in the city of New Orleans. That is, unless you knew where to look. Or more accurately, how.
For hidden in this neighborhood was a collection of buildings that didn't quite fit in with the rest of the aesthetic surrounding it. As if someone had taken the more absinthe soaked sensibilities of the city and let it bleed over, smearing and twisting the idea of what should be into what could be. Like someone had taken this neighborhood within a neighborhood and injected a little chaos, a little wonder and perhaps, a little magic.
For how else could one explain the way eyes seemed to slide off the overly colorful facades? How sparks of curiosity were all too quickly snuffed out as if they had never existed at all? How that man in the cabana shirt and flip flops could walk right on by as the stone centerpiece of a nearby fountain began to lazily fan itself in the heat?
So let's focus our attention, it will be hard to spot otherwise, and look to a particular bar in this most particular neighborhood. What bar and what neighborhood you ask? Well, let's take a gander and see if we can find out.
Gillygrove, proclaimed a proud wrought iron sign above the central square.
The Fairy Heart, mumbled a pair of stumbling wizards as they shuffled out of a large red door.
Ah, the Fairy Heart. Truly the jewel of this little magical community. A place to unwind after a hard days work. Or maybe wind yourself up in preparation for such. The Fairy Heart did not judge and catered to all manner of folk. Yes, a bar to be proud of for the wizards and witches of Gillygrove. Certainly better than whatever swill the fools in Riverpot could lay their hands on.
And it's here, through the still swinging red door that our story begins. With a small blonde boy sitting by himself in a corner of the bar. Tracing patterns on the wall as he nursed a Cinnamon Fizz, the drink snapping and sizzling around his straw.
Yet even such a wondrous drink couldn't wipe the sad light in his dark green eyes. For this child of five and a quarter years of age, was quite alone. Not literally, there was a giggling witch reading an upside down book in the next booth over. But in all the most important ways, Finn Marigold Coeurdefee was alone.
Indeed, the only person who took Mel Coeurdefee née Rose's death worse than her son was her husband, Miles Coeurdefee. And for better or worse, there were few places better suited to drink away one's pain than New Orleans. Especially when you owned a bar in nearly every Wizarding Community in the South. A state of affairs that was good for the family's coffers, but left the curly haired boy to his own devices as he sullenly drained the dregs of his Cinnamon Fizz.
But fear not for young Finn Coeurdefee, because believe it or not, he is soon to make his first friend.
[ ] A confused hawsey girl that somehow made her way past the wards.
[ ] A stray dog that prowled outside the bar begging for scraps.
[ ] A young wizard from out of state that wandered around as his father conducted business in Gillygrove.
[ ] A wizened old bartender covered in faded tattoos that tried to cheer up a sad child.
[ ] An older man with Mother's eyes that spoke with a New England accent.
If one were to take a stroll through the Garden District in the port city of New Orleans, they would find it unsurprisingly empty. It was the heart of summer after all, and summer in Louisiana is something to be endured at best - run away from when possible.
Besides the lack of pedestrians, one would take note of the usual for this particular locale: grand double gallery houses of many different hues, processions of southern oaks with long and elegant branches, surprisingly not as many gardens as one might guess from the name, and of course enough bars that you couldn't throw your hat without hitting one.
Yes, the people of New Orleans love their bars. Or is it that they love to drink and where better than a bar? Either way, it was a safe bet that these many establishments: sticky dive bars, overly loud sports bars, whiskey soaked cigar lounges, overpriced college bars, the occasional daiquiris bar and many more, were the host of myriad New Orleans residents (and not a few tourists) trying to escape the heat with a good drink or five.
Yes, a normal summer day in the city of New Orleans. That is, unless you knew where to look. Or more accurately, how.
For hidden in this neighborhood was a collection of buildings that didn't quite fit in with the rest of the aesthetic surrounding it. As if someone had taken the more absinthe soaked sensibilities of the city and let it bleed over, smearing and twisting the idea of what should be into what could be. Like someone had taken this neighborhood within a neighborhood and injected a little chaos, a little wonder and perhaps, a little magic.
For how else could one explain the way eyes seemed to slide off the overly colorful facades? How sparks of curiosity were all too quickly snuffed out as if they had never existed at all? How that man in the cabana shirt and flip flops could walk right on by as the stone centerpiece of a nearby fountain began to lazily fan itself in the heat?
So let's focus our attention, it will be hard to spot otherwise, and look to a particular bar in this most particular neighborhood. What bar and what neighborhood you ask? Well, let's take a gander and see if we can find out.
Gillygrove, proclaimed a proud wrought iron sign above the central square.
The Fairy Heart, mumbled a pair of stumbling wizards as they shuffled out of a large red door.
Ah, the Fairy Heart. Truly the jewel of this little magical community. A place to unwind after a hard days work. Or maybe wind yourself up in preparation for such. The Fairy Heart did not judge and catered to all manner of folk. Yes, a bar to be proud of for the wizards and witches of Gillygrove. Certainly better than whatever swill the fools in Riverpot could lay their hands on.
And it's here, through the still swinging red door that our story begins. With a small blonde boy sitting by himself in a corner of the bar. Tracing patterns on the wall as he nursed a Cinnamon Fizz, the drink snapping and sizzling around his straw.
Yet even such a wondrous drink couldn't wipe the sad light in his dark green eyes. For this child of five and a quarter years of age, was quite alone. Not literally, there was a giggling witch reading an upside down book in the next booth over. But in all the most important ways, Finn Marigold Coeurdefee was alone.
Indeed, the only person who took Mel Coeurdefee née Rose's death worse than her son was her husband, Miles Coeurdefee. And for better or worse, there were few places better suited to drink away one's pain than New Orleans. Especially when you owned a bar in nearly every Wizarding Community in the South. A state of affairs that was good for the family's coffers, but left the curly haired boy to his own devices as he sullenly drained the dregs of his Cinnamon Fizz.
But fear not for young Finn Coeurdefee, because believe it or not, he is soon to make his first friend.
[ ] A confused hawsey girl that somehow made her way past the wards.
[ ] A stray dog that prowled outside the bar begging for scraps.
[ ] A young wizard from out of state that wandered around as his father conducted business in Gillygrove.
[ ] A wizened old bartender covered in faded tattoos that tried to cheer up a sad child.
[ ] An older man with Mother's eyes that spoke with a New England accent.
So this kind of got away from me and turned into an excuse to indulge myself and have a bit of fun. I wanted to set the tone appropriately and here we are. Don't expect the same style in the future. It should settle into something less "whimsical narrator" going forward.
This, and the next few updates will be about fleshing out the MC. I spent a while rolling dice to lay the foundation of who Finn is. The rest will be up to you.
And as I mentioned, I won't be including the mechanical benefits and rewards of each choice. I feel it takes away some of the joy when you choose based on what will get you the most dice (or whatever) rather than what seems most interesting narratively.
Lastly, I definitely lucked out on the results of the last vote since I actually did live in New Orleans for a couple of years. I would have had to really pull some world building out of my ass for some of the other areas I'm not as familiar with.
This, and the next few updates will be about fleshing out the MC. I spent a while rolling dice to lay the foundation of who Finn is. The rest will be up to you.
And as I mentioned, I won't be including the mechanical benefits and rewards of each choice. I feel it takes away some of the joy when you choose based on what will get you the most dice (or whatever) rather than what seems most interesting narratively.
Lastly, I definitely lucked out on the results of the last vote since I actually did live in New Orleans for a couple of years. I would have had to really pull some world building out of my ass for some of the other areas I'm not as familiar with.
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A Story Begins 1.2
- Location
- US
[X] A confused hawsey girl that somehow made her way past the wards.
Finn Marigold Coeurdefee sat in his booth in the corner of the bar and started thinking. His little face scrunched up as he turned a thought over in his head. Over and over the thought went, flipping and twirling with the single-minded determination only a child could muster. Sometimes he would peer intently into the bottom of his now empty Cinnamon Fizz, not a fizzle or pop to be found. Other times Finn stared longingly at the dazzling array of bottles arrayed behind the bar. Some were big as a barrel, some small enough they had to be handled with tweezers. Some sent enchanting beams of light into the room, others were plain as can be. Some sat on their shelf without a peep while a few trouble makers had to be thoroughly strapped down for fear they might try and make a break for it.
He was eventually snapped out of his musings by two loud crashes and a yelp. The yelp sandwiched quite snugly between the two crashes. Finn turned his chubby cheeks towards the source of the noise, but was a tad too slow and only caught the tail-end of the commotion. However, the boy wasn't too upset about missing the surely spectacular scene. His attention was stuck to an ice cold bottle of Honeydew Cider that flew end over end through the air. It hit his table right side up before smoothly sliding down towards him, wobbling back and forth precariously until it righted with a clink.
One of the customers must have just finished a Petit Pari, thought Finn as he reached for the bottle, his lips tugging upward into his first smile all week. He popped the top off with a shrug. Their loss was his gain. Truly, the most interesting things happened whenever someone downed that curious gold and black drink. Finn had laughed until he nearly threw up when Mr. Laville had somehow slipped on twelve stray ice cubes in a row. Or when that old wizard with the pumpkin shaped mole on his head ended up winning the monthly trivia night despite accidentally entering his shopping list instead of his team's answers.
Yes, the drink that raised the Coeurdefee family from doing-quite-fine to absolutely-stupidly-rich as he once heard his father say it, was a curious thing indeed. And yet Finn was only five and a quarter years old. An age that tended to concern itself more with it's nearest source of sugar than familial finances. So with his thoughts finally able to arrive at an answer - why yes, a Honeydew Cider did sound better than another Cinnamon Fizz - Finn quickly made his way out the back door before someone came looking for their missing drink.
With a cool and sugary refreshment in hand, Finn was feeling a little bit better about the day. Not too much better, he was still very aware of the the void left by his mother. And his father's bender having taken him to Georgia (if the hand on his watch pointing to a peach was any indication) wasn't helping matters. But the lift was just enough to push him to brave the heat and wander around the cobbled paths of Gillygrove. At least he could explore a little while he moped.
It took all of three minutes before Finn decided that he much preferred to mope indoors where it was charmed to be nice and cool. He took a few steps towards Binding's Books and Brooms when a peculiar sight caught his attention. Finn blinked once, twice, three times before he made his way to a very confused looking girl around his age. Dressed in scuffed overalls, the girl had short brown hair matched with big brown eyes, a glazed look to them as she slowly turned in place.
Finn stared at the girl while she continued to spin around with lidded eyes, her head cocked slightly to the side. As he got closer, he realized that she was looking around, but not actually seeing anything, sort of like father when he hasn't had his coffee yet. Mustering his courage, Finn poked the girl in the shoulder. When all he got in return was an unfocused blink, Finn decided to poke her a few more times – just because. He really had nothing better to do and couldn't remember coming across anything like this before.
Just as he was getting bored of the poking, a gasp sounded out behind him. Fearing the worst, Finn rapidly hid the guilty digit, but luck was on his side. "Oh the poor dear," said Miss Binwald, a small lady prone to wearing rather oversized hats. "She must have gotten past the wards somehow." She turned to Finn then with a commiserating look on her face. "It happens every now and then you see. We're never quite sure how exactly it happens, but I suppose the how doesn't really matter." Miss Binwald readjusted her large hat before continuing. "No need to alert the authorities and make a whole thing of it; the hawsies always end up dazed as a dimweed. Only thing to do is lead them back out into the city proper. Most come to their senses soon enough, the time spent in Gillygrove no more than a faded summer dream." She finished with a wink.
Finn nodded. He thought he got the gist of things. It was okay to keep poking the girl since she wouldn't remember any of it. Maybe he could even put a funny hat on her. He was sure there was something suitably silly back at the house. Remembering himself, he turned to the older woman and assured her he would help the poor hawsey out.
A quick goodbye poke and Finn was off to the races, determined to get home and back quickly. He dodged around a roaming pack of black cats, high-fived the fountain centerpiece, hopped over an especially large crack in the sidewalk (he wouldn't make that mistake again), and sprinted down Widdens Avenue before he finally arrived home.
Home for Finn was a lot of things. None of them all too important to the boy at the moment. He had no time to dawdle.
"Dixie!" yelled Finn in what was most certainly not an inside voice, but it wasn't like his father was home to reprimand him. "I need–"
A large crack heralded the arrival of the family's House Elf with the most wondrous thing cradled in her small arms. Somehow she just knew (like she always did) exactly what Finn needed before he even had to ask.
"Oh Dixie," said Finn, a brilliant smile on his face. "It's perfect."
Indeed it was perfect, thought Finn as the hat settled into place on the girl's head. Yes, Dixie had truly out-done herself. He would have to ask where she found the thing later.
What kind of hat did he grace the confused hawsey girl with?
[ ] Write-in
There's no mechanic or hidden meaning to the choice. I just wanted to end the update and thought a silly hat vote was as good a place as any. Treat it as a bit of fluff character building.
Finn Marigold Coeurdefee sat in his booth in the corner of the bar and started thinking. His little face scrunched up as he turned a thought over in his head. Over and over the thought went, flipping and twirling with the single-minded determination only a child could muster. Sometimes he would peer intently into the bottom of his now empty Cinnamon Fizz, not a fizzle or pop to be found. Other times Finn stared longingly at the dazzling array of bottles arrayed behind the bar. Some were big as a barrel, some small enough they had to be handled with tweezers. Some sent enchanting beams of light into the room, others were plain as can be. Some sat on their shelf without a peep while a few trouble makers had to be thoroughly strapped down for fear they might try and make a break for it.
He was eventually snapped out of his musings by two loud crashes and a yelp. The yelp sandwiched quite snugly between the two crashes. Finn turned his chubby cheeks towards the source of the noise, but was a tad too slow and only caught the tail-end of the commotion. However, the boy wasn't too upset about missing the surely spectacular scene. His attention was stuck to an ice cold bottle of Honeydew Cider that flew end over end through the air. It hit his table right side up before smoothly sliding down towards him, wobbling back and forth precariously until it righted with a clink.
One of the customers must have just finished a Petit Pari, thought Finn as he reached for the bottle, his lips tugging upward into his first smile all week. He popped the top off with a shrug. Their loss was his gain. Truly, the most interesting things happened whenever someone downed that curious gold and black drink. Finn had laughed until he nearly threw up when Mr. Laville had somehow slipped on twelve stray ice cubes in a row. Or when that old wizard with the pumpkin shaped mole on his head ended up winning the monthly trivia night despite accidentally entering his shopping list instead of his team's answers.
Yes, the drink that raised the Coeurdefee family from doing-quite-fine to absolutely-stupidly-rich as he once heard his father say it, was a curious thing indeed. And yet Finn was only five and a quarter years old. An age that tended to concern itself more with it's nearest source of sugar than familial finances. So with his thoughts finally able to arrive at an answer - why yes, a Honeydew Cider did sound better than another Cinnamon Fizz - Finn quickly made his way out the back door before someone came looking for their missing drink.
With a cool and sugary refreshment in hand, Finn was feeling a little bit better about the day. Not too much better, he was still very aware of the the void left by his mother. And his father's bender having taken him to Georgia (if the hand on his watch pointing to a peach was any indication) wasn't helping matters. But the lift was just enough to push him to brave the heat and wander around the cobbled paths of Gillygrove. At least he could explore a little while he moped.
It took all of three minutes before Finn decided that he much preferred to mope indoors where it was charmed to be nice and cool. He took a few steps towards Binding's Books and Brooms when a peculiar sight caught his attention. Finn blinked once, twice, three times before he made his way to a very confused looking girl around his age. Dressed in scuffed overalls, the girl had short brown hair matched with big brown eyes, a glazed look to them as she slowly turned in place.
Finn stared at the girl while she continued to spin around with lidded eyes, her head cocked slightly to the side. As he got closer, he realized that she was looking around, but not actually seeing anything, sort of like father when he hasn't had his coffee yet. Mustering his courage, Finn poked the girl in the shoulder. When all he got in return was an unfocused blink, Finn decided to poke her a few more times – just because. He really had nothing better to do and couldn't remember coming across anything like this before.
Just as he was getting bored of the poking, a gasp sounded out behind him. Fearing the worst, Finn rapidly hid the guilty digit, but luck was on his side. "Oh the poor dear," said Miss Binwald, a small lady prone to wearing rather oversized hats. "She must have gotten past the wards somehow." She turned to Finn then with a commiserating look on her face. "It happens every now and then you see. We're never quite sure how exactly it happens, but I suppose the how doesn't really matter." Miss Binwald readjusted her large hat before continuing. "No need to alert the authorities and make a whole thing of it; the hawsies always end up dazed as a dimweed. Only thing to do is lead them back out into the city proper. Most come to their senses soon enough, the time spent in Gillygrove no more than a faded summer dream." She finished with a wink.
Finn nodded. He thought he got the gist of things. It was okay to keep poking the girl since she wouldn't remember any of it. Maybe he could even put a funny hat on her. He was sure there was something suitably silly back at the house. Remembering himself, he turned to the older woman and assured her he would help the poor hawsey out.
A quick goodbye poke and Finn was off to the races, determined to get home and back quickly. He dodged around a roaming pack of black cats, high-fived the fountain centerpiece, hopped over an especially large crack in the sidewalk (he wouldn't make that mistake again), and sprinted down Widdens Avenue before he finally arrived home.
Home for Finn was a lot of things. None of them all too important to the boy at the moment. He had no time to dawdle.
"Dixie!" yelled Finn in what was most certainly not an inside voice, but it wasn't like his father was home to reprimand him. "I need–"
A large crack heralded the arrival of the family's House Elf with the most wondrous thing cradled in her small arms. Somehow she just knew (like she always did) exactly what Finn needed before he even had to ask.
"Oh Dixie," said Finn, a brilliant smile on his face. "It's perfect."
Indeed it was perfect, thought Finn as the hat settled into place on the girl's head. Yes, Dixie had truly out-done herself. He would have to ask where she found the thing later.
What kind of hat did he grace the confused hawsey girl with?
[ ] Write-in
There's no mechanic or hidden meaning to the choice. I just wanted to end the update and thought a silly hat vote was as good a place as any. Treat it as a bit of fluff character building.
So hawsey was what I came up with for an American muggle equivalent. Apparently it's an old nautical term that led to the modern word 'hazy'. It seemed fitting that the magical community would describe non magical folk as in a haze (so to speak). Also, I really liked how it sounded phonetically. A lot of my other ideas were definitely more on the goofy wizard lingo side of things and none of them quite fit.
So what do you think? Does it work? Or is it stupid and I should just call them muggles?
I do plan on having a few different ways to refer to them in this setting. Britain is small and insular enough to get away with one catch all phrase. I feel like America would end up with a few due to being so large as well as such a melting pot of cultures. Hawsey is (at the very least) what I'm going with for the South (maybe more).
So what do you think? Does it work? Or is it stupid and I should just call them muggles?
I do plan on having a few different ways to refer to them in this setting. Britain is small and insular enough to get away with one catch all phrase. I feel like America would end up with a few due to being so large as well as such a melting pot of cultures. Hawsey is (at the very least) what I'm going with for the South (maybe more).
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A Story Begins 1.3
- Location
- US
[X] The tallest stove-pipe hat he could find.
Satisfied that the girl looked suitably silly – the tall black hat was over twice as long as her head – he grabbed her hand in his and led her out of Gillygrove. Her first few steps were a bit halting and the hat nearly tipped off her head, but she soon settled into a slow shuffle, seemingly content to follow his lead.
As the two made their way through the streets, Finn took the time to study the hawsey girl. He'd spent most of his young life, as least as much as he could remember, in either Gillygrove or the other magical communities around the South (except for Riverpot of course, fingers crossed it would sink into the river sooner rather than later). Usually ones that had a Fairy Heart; his father would sometimes bring him along when he checked in on his different franchises. Which is to say that Finn had very little experience with hawsies and their world. The other side of the wards might as well be another world all-together for the young wizard.
And he was a wizard, make no mistake, his first use of accidental magic was quite hard to miss after all.
[ ] All the vegetables in the house kept disappearing. It took his mother two weeks to figure out what was happening.
[ ] The old piano in the living room started playing him a lullaby after he woke up from a bad nightmare.
[ ] He did... something to his father's coffee. No one's really sure what exactly, but it left his father awake for five days straight.
[ ] He started letting off small electric shocks every time the old witch down the street tried to pinch his cheeks.
[ ] He somehow found his birthday present. It was in an old shoe box, that was placed in a duffel bag, inside an even larger box, which was hidden under a pile of blankets, in a small closet in the corner of the attic.
[ ] He took a mid afternoon nap in the backyard. When he woke up the entire lawn was covered with sweet smelling flowers.
And so the young without-a-doubt wizard and his confounded, yet oddly dapper companion, edged past the Westwood, the ancient Southern Oak that marked the neighborhood's boundary to the west. It's long moss covered branches positively thrummed with the layers and layers of protective enchantments that had been added to it throughout the centuries. There was one at each of the cardinal points around Gillygrove and together they kept the community guarded and unnoticed from the rest of the city.
As he continued on, Finn turned and waved back at the old Westwood, one of it's longer branches politely waving back. The Old Oak was really quite the softy, all things told. Much better than the Southwood that always ruffled his hair, or Salem forbid the Eastwood. That gnarled piece of kindling always gave him a sharp smack to the back when he tried to wander past.
The two were a block and a half away from Gillygrove when the girl began to regain her bearings. Her eyes went from lidded and cloudy to something a bit more alive, if still confused. She wobbled back and forth and started to blink rapidly as if to clear away the cobwebs in her head. After a minute or so, the hawsey girl turned to Finn, who was still holding her hand, and opened her mouth.
"Buh?" Questioned the girl, obviously still not all there yet. She used her free hand to rub at her eyes and slowly looked around.
"Muh?" She tried once more.
"Muh," Finn agreed, letting go of her hand and patting the girl on the shoulder (careful not to knock the glorious cylindrical hat off her head). He wasn't sure what 'muh' meant, but he assumed that this was just how Hawsies were. Father did always say that the whole lot were crazier than a banshee in an outhouse. Well then, best to leave while he was ahead. With one last poke as a parting gift, Finn began to trace his way back to Gillygrove.
"Hey you!" Finn heard behind him, the exclamation stopping him in his tracks.
"Yeah?" He replied, turning back to the girl in the dirty overalls and stove-pipe hat. He was starting to sweat something fierce under the summer sun, his Honeydew Cider long finished. He was thinking he'd go for one last Cinnemon Fizz before returning home.
"What's your name?"
"Finn," he replied after a second. "You?"
"Annabelle, but I'll hit you if you call me that. Anna's fine though."
The wizard and the hawsey looked at each other for a moment. The latter tilting her head in thought before breaking the silence.
"You wanna go sneak onto the streetcar with me?" The girl asked, her thumbs tucked under her shoulder straps.
Finn scratched his head as he considered the offer. "I thought all cars were street cars?" He questioned as he squinted at the girl. "You got other kinds?"
The girl, no – Anna, grabbed his arm and shot him a smile like an overpowered lumos. She began to drag him after her, their previous roles reversed.
"Come on, I'll show you."
Satisfied that the girl looked suitably silly – the tall black hat was over twice as long as her head – he grabbed her hand in his and led her out of Gillygrove. Her first few steps were a bit halting and the hat nearly tipped off her head, but she soon settled into a slow shuffle, seemingly content to follow his lead.
As the two made their way through the streets, Finn took the time to study the hawsey girl. He'd spent most of his young life, as least as much as he could remember, in either Gillygrove or the other magical communities around the South (except for Riverpot of course, fingers crossed it would sink into the river sooner rather than later). Usually ones that had a Fairy Heart; his father would sometimes bring him along when he checked in on his different franchises. Which is to say that Finn had very little experience with hawsies and their world. The other side of the wards might as well be another world all-together for the young wizard.
And he was a wizard, make no mistake, his first use of accidental magic was quite hard to miss after all.
[ ] All the vegetables in the house kept disappearing. It took his mother two weeks to figure out what was happening.
[ ] The old piano in the living room started playing him a lullaby after he woke up from a bad nightmare.
[ ] He did... something to his father's coffee. No one's really sure what exactly, but it left his father awake for five days straight.
[ ] He started letting off small electric shocks every time the old witch down the street tried to pinch his cheeks.
[ ] He somehow found his birthday present. It was in an old shoe box, that was placed in a duffel bag, inside an even larger box, which was hidden under a pile of blankets, in a small closet in the corner of the attic.
[ ] He took a mid afternoon nap in the backyard. When he woke up the entire lawn was covered with sweet smelling flowers.
And so the young without-a-doubt wizard and his confounded, yet oddly dapper companion, edged past the Westwood, the ancient Southern Oak that marked the neighborhood's boundary to the west. It's long moss covered branches positively thrummed with the layers and layers of protective enchantments that had been added to it throughout the centuries. There was one at each of the cardinal points around Gillygrove and together they kept the community guarded and unnoticed from the rest of the city.
As he continued on, Finn turned and waved back at the old Westwood, one of it's longer branches politely waving back. The Old Oak was really quite the softy, all things told. Much better than the Southwood that always ruffled his hair, or Salem forbid the Eastwood. That gnarled piece of kindling always gave him a sharp smack to the back when he tried to wander past.
The two were a block and a half away from Gillygrove when the girl began to regain her bearings. Her eyes went from lidded and cloudy to something a bit more alive, if still confused. She wobbled back and forth and started to blink rapidly as if to clear away the cobwebs in her head. After a minute or so, the hawsey girl turned to Finn, who was still holding her hand, and opened her mouth.
"Buh?" Questioned the girl, obviously still not all there yet. She used her free hand to rub at her eyes and slowly looked around.
"Muh?" She tried once more.
"Muh," Finn agreed, letting go of her hand and patting the girl on the shoulder (careful not to knock the glorious cylindrical hat off her head). He wasn't sure what 'muh' meant, but he assumed that this was just how Hawsies were. Father did always say that the whole lot were crazier than a banshee in an outhouse. Well then, best to leave while he was ahead. With one last poke as a parting gift, Finn began to trace his way back to Gillygrove.
"Hey you!" Finn heard behind him, the exclamation stopping him in his tracks.
"Yeah?" He replied, turning back to the girl in the dirty overalls and stove-pipe hat. He was starting to sweat something fierce under the summer sun, his Honeydew Cider long finished. He was thinking he'd go for one last Cinnemon Fizz before returning home.
"What's your name?"
"Finn," he replied after a second. "You?"
"Annabelle, but I'll hit you if you call me that. Anna's fine though."
The wizard and the hawsey looked at each other for a moment. The latter tilting her head in thought before breaking the silence.
"You wanna go sneak onto the streetcar with me?" The girl asked, her thumbs tucked under her shoulder straps.
Finn scratched his head as he considered the offer. "I thought all cars were street cars?" He questioned as he squinted at the girl. "You got other kinds?"
The girl, no – Anna, grabbed his arm and shot him a smile like an overpowered lumos. She began to drag him after her, their previous roles reversed.
"Come on, I'll show you."
Body +1
Brief Mechanics Explanation:
There will be five main attributes. Body, Mind, Sense, Presence and Resolve. They go from 1-10 with 1 being a literal child and 10 being peak human (or wizard in this case). Finn, as a child, starts off with 1 in each category.
Why did he gain +1 to Body?
Well, each of the 'friend' options would have raised a different attribute. The 'hawsey girl' option raised body since Finn is going to be dragged along as the two of them explore New Orleans and do hawsey things. Remember, wizards and witches are kind of really lazy since magic does all the work for them. Anna is going to put him through the ringer, so to speak.
Brief Mechanics Explanation:
There will be five main attributes. Body, Mind, Sense, Presence and Resolve. They go from 1-10 with 1 being a literal child and 10 being peak human (or wizard in this case). Finn, as a child, starts off with 1 in each category.
Why did he gain +1 to Body?
Well, each of the 'friend' options would have raised a different attribute. The 'hawsey girl' option raised body since Finn is going to be dragged along as the two of them explore New Orleans and do hawsey things. Remember, wizards and witches are kind of really lazy since magic does all the work for them. Anna is going to put him through the ringer, so to speak.
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A Story Begins 1.4
- Location
- US
[X] He took a mid afternoon nap in the backyard. When he woke up the entire lawn was covered with sweet smelling flowers.
Finn lay in the thick green grass, a few stalks sneaking past his clothes to tickle his skin. Above, the sun's rays lay on him like a warm blanket. Between the ground and sky, he felt wrapped in a cocoon made of hugs, content to laze away the time. Wind passed through the trees and the birds sung their little songs. Now and then, Finn lazily whistled back.
At the sound of some indeterminate rustling, noticeable enough to catch his wandering attention, Finn cracked open an eye and smiled at the sight before him. Flowers of every which color surrounded his prone body; radiating outward in sweet bursts of spring. He took a deep and breath and let the fragrance fill his head.
It reminded him of his mom. Grassy and sweet with an exotic floral tinge. He missed her.
Wait... Why would her miss her? She's right here, isn't she?
A gentle hand made of petals stroked his cheek in confirmation and began to idly play with his hair. Finn snuggled into the touch and release a deep sigh. He wished he could stay like this forever.
Maybe it was that thought. Maybe it was just bad timing. But all too soon the loving contact ceased. Finn blinked drowsily and turned his head to the side.
His breath caught in his throat.
It started at her fingers. Petal by petal, the hand broke apart, the greedy wind stealing them away – away from him. He could only blink dumbly as her hand, then arm, scattered, leaving nothing in it's wake but a flickering memory. Her form dissolving before his very eyes.
Finn yelled. He pleaded. He cried. But he knew that there was no halting this scene. Slowly but surely it played out, until even the gentle curls of her hair, curls just like his, flew away from his outstretched hand. His mom was gone. Colorful petals scattered to the four winds in a tableau that many might call beautiful. Not Finn. No, not at all.
Tears tracked his cheeks as he felt his heart squeeze and stomach flip. And if the wind whistled somewhat sadly in response or a stray petal wiped away a tear – he never noticed.
Finn stared up at the ceiling of his room, the covers and sheets of his bed tossed haphazardly around his form. He really hated that dream. The sense of loss it left in his chest was no way to start the day. He hated the way that... something... Yes, he hated something. He knew that. But what was it again? It was – It was slipping away despite his best efforts. Or maybe not his best efforts, if he were being honest with himself. After all, why try and hold onto something that made his heart ache? Whatever it was.
He ran a hand through his hair and looked to his window. The sun was just setting the sky aflame.
Blueberry Pancakes sounded nice this morning. He could use something sweet.
An hour later, Finn was leaning back in his chair in the dining room, rubbing his stomach in utter content. "Dixie," he half groaned out, maple syrup still smeared over his chin. "The pancakes. So good."
"Dixie is happy that young master is happy. But Dixie thinks maybe young master needs healthy food to grow big and strong."
Finn glanced over to the House Elf. Her big grey eyes stared straight at his own and he quickly looked away. The boy knew he would buckle if he got caught in her wide-eyed, pleading look. Instead he watched her large ears twitch and flutter around, the appendages sticking up like a startled rabbit. Taking a deep breath, Finn spoke in his most authoritative voice.
"Dixie, no."
A pop sounded out in the room as his mostly cleared plate disappeared, replaced by a small bowl of oatmeal, dried fruit and nuts. The House Elf took a step towards him, her gold and black uniform standing out ominously in the mid morning light.
"Dixie..." Finn warned, a little fear creeping into his young voice. Before he could continue, a mug of yogurt popped into existence, the horrid white goop topped with what looked like a layer of small black seeds. Likely from some wretched man eating plant from the swamps, if Finn had to guess.
He tried to scoot away from the table in preparation to make a break for it, but the chair locked in place at some unseen signal. The Elf made her way towards him, her footsteps light on the wooden floor.
"Dixie, yes." Her tone was gentle, yet somehow booked no argument. Grey eyes stared into green and with a shaking hand, Finn picked up a spoon.
By the time he had cleared the small bowl and mug of their contents, or at least enough to satisfy the House Elf, Finn wasn't in the greatest of moods. He certainly didn't feel healthier after forcing down all that mush. Not that he would say so to Dixie. She was part of the family and that meant something to the blonde little boy. In this case, it meant he thanked her politely, if a bit grudgingly, for the food and let her know he would be out and about with Anna for the rest of the day.
At least he hoped so. It was certainly wasn't easy for the two to meet up together. He had none of those tele-things Anna kept trying to explain and she definitely didn't have any messenger birds, two-way mirrors or anything of the like. It was so frustrating. To make matters worse, she was gone from morning till afternoon most days. Apparently hawsey kids start going to school when they're five years old! He shivered despite the warm sun on his back.
And it wasn't as if he could just invite her over to play, he thought as he threaded his way through the city streets, the smell of fresh bread leaking through the doorway of a nearby bakery. She'd go all but cross eyed like the first time they met; Gillygrove wasn't exactly made for hawsies after all. To be fair, wizards and witches didn't really do so well in hawsey society either. He was learning though. Why just a few weeks ago, Anna had shown him her favorite past time. She even started teaching him a bit.
[ ] How to swipe candy from the market without being caught.
[ ] How to throw a punch. Apparently he hit like a girl and that had to change.
[ ] How to sneak into the movie theater for free.
[ ] Write-in
Finn lay in the thick green grass, a few stalks sneaking past his clothes to tickle his skin. Above, the sun's rays lay on him like a warm blanket. Between the ground and sky, he felt wrapped in a cocoon made of hugs, content to laze away the time. Wind passed through the trees and the birds sung their little songs. Now and then, Finn lazily whistled back.
At the sound of some indeterminate rustling, noticeable enough to catch his wandering attention, Finn cracked open an eye and smiled at the sight before him. Flowers of every which color surrounded his prone body; radiating outward in sweet bursts of spring. He took a deep and breath and let the fragrance fill his head.
It reminded him of his mom. Grassy and sweet with an exotic floral tinge. He missed her.
Wait... Why would her miss her? She's right here, isn't she?
A gentle hand made of petals stroked his cheek in confirmation and began to idly play with his hair. Finn snuggled into the touch and release a deep sigh. He wished he could stay like this forever.
Maybe it was that thought. Maybe it was just bad timing. But all too soon the loving contact ceased. Finn blinked drowsily and turned his head to the side.
His breath caught in his throat.
It started at her fingers. Petal by petal, the hand broke apart, the greedy wind stealing them away – away from him. He could only blink dumbly as her hand, then arm, scattered, leaving nothing in it's wake but a flickering memory. Her form dissolving before his very eyes.
Finn yelled. He pleaded. He cried. But he knew that there was no halting this scene. Slowly but surely it played out, until even the gentle curls of her hair, curls just like his, flew away from his outstretched hand. His mom was gone. Colorful petals scattered to the four winds in a tableau that many might call beautiful. Not Finn. No, not at all.
Tears tracked his cheeks as he felt his heart squeeze and stomach flip. And if the wind whistled somewhat sadly in response or a stray petal wiped away a tear – he never noticed.
+1 to the Green Arts
Finn stared up at the ceiling of his room, the covers and sheets of his bed tossed haphazardly around his form. He really hated that dream. The sense of loss it left in his chest was no way to start the day. He hated the way that... something... Yes, he hated something. He knew that. But what was it again? It was – It was slipping away despite his best efforts. Or maybe not his best efforts, if he were being honest with himself. After all, why try and hold onto something that made his heart ache? Whatever it was.
He ran a hand through his hair and looked to his window. The sun was just setting the sky aflame.
Blueberry Pancakes sounded nice this morning. He could use something sweet.
An hour later, Finn was leaning back in his chair in the dining room, rubbing his stomach in utter content. "Dixie," he half groaned out, maple syrup still smeared over his chin. "The pancakes. So good."
"Dixie is happy that young master is happy. But Dixie thinks maybe young master needs healthy food to grow big and strong."
Finn glanced over to the House Elf. Her big grey eyes stared straight at his own and he quickly looked away. The boy knew he would buckle if he got caught in her wide-eyed, pleading look. Instead he watched her large ears twitch and flutter around, the appendages sticking up like a startled rabbit. Taking a deep breath, Finn spoke in his most authoritative voice.
"Dixie, no."
A pop sounded out in the room as his mostly cleared plate disappeared, replaced by a small bowl of oatmeal, dried fruit and nuts. The House Elf took a step towards him, her gold and black uniform standing out ominously in the mid morning light.
"Dixie..." Finn warned, a little fear creeping into his young voice. Before he could continue, a mug of yogurt popped into existence, the horrid white goop topped with what looked like a layer of small black seeds. Likely from some wretched man eating plant from the swamps, if Finn had to guess.
He tried to scoot away from the table in preparation to make a break for it, but the chair locked in place at some unseen signal. The Elf made her way towards him, her footsteps light on the wooden floor.
"Dixie, yes." Her tone was gentle, yet somehow booked no argument. Grey eyes stared into green and with a shaking hand, Finn picked up a spoon.
By the time he had cleared the small bowl and mug of their contents, or at least enough to satisfy the House Elf, Finn wasn't in the greatest of moods. He certainly didn't feel healthier after forcing down all that mush. Not that he would say so to Dixie. She was part of the family and that meant something to the blonde little boy. In this case, it meant he thanked her politely, if a bit grudgingly, for the food and let her know he would be out and about with Anna for the rest of the day.
At least he hoped so. It was certainly wasn't easy for the two to meet up together. He had none of those tele-things Anna kept trying to explain and she definitely didn't have any messenger birds, two-way mirrors or anything of the like. It was so frustrating. To make matters worse, she was gone from morning till afternoon most days. Apparently hawsey kids start going to school when they're five years old! He shivered despite the warm sun on his back.
And it wasn't as if he could just invite her over to play, he thought as he threaded his way through the city streets, the smell of fresh bread leaking through the doorway of a nearby bakery. She'd go all but cross eyed like the first time they met; Gillygrove wasn't exactly made for hawsies after all. To be fair, wizards and witches didn't really do so well in hawsey society either. He was learning though. Why just a few weeks ago, Anna had shown him her favorite past time. She even started teaching him a bit.
[ ] How to swipe candy from the market without being caught.
[ ] How to throw a punch. Apparently he hit like a girl and that had to change.
[ ] How to sneak into the movie theater for free.
[ ] Write-in
So the Green Arts are one of the curriculum changes I'm putting in place for my take on the American Wizarding School. Think of it like Herbology, but expanded to all nature related magic, not just taking care of magical plants.
Each of the options for Finn's first accidental magic would have given him a +1 in one of his eventual core classes in school (except for Magical History since there's no actual magic involved).
Each of the options for Finn's first accidental magic would have given him a +1 in one of his eventual core classes in school (except for Magical History since there's no actual magic involved).
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Character Sheet
- Location
- US
Name: Finn Marigold Coeurdefee
Age: 6
Home: Gillygrove, New Orleans, LA
Attributes:
Body - 2/10
Mind - 1/10
Sense - 1/10
Presence - 1/10
Will - 1/10
Class Skills:
Charms - 1/10
Transfiguration - 1/10
Potions - 1/10
Defense - 1/10
Psychometry - 1/10
The Green Arts - 2/10
Magical History - 1/10
Age: 6
Home: Gillygrove, New Orleans, LA
Attributes:
Body - 2/10
Mind - 1/10
Sense - 1/10
Presence - 1/10
Will - 1/10
Class Skills:
Charms - 1/10
Transfiguration - 1/10
Potions - 1/10
Defense - 1/10
Psychometry - 1/10
The Green Arts - 2/10
Magical History - 1/10
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