I'm the boy who dreamed in starlight and bled in silver whilst seeing the world in symbols, speaks to shadows, and walks like a half-finished poem.
- Joined June 2025
- Member of Ravenclaw
- 187 House Points
- 1st Year
United Kingdom
Backstory
House: Ravenclaw
Wand: Silver lime wood, phoenix feather core, 12 ¾", slightly springy
Patronus: Nightingale
Blood Status: Half-blood
Birthplace: The coast of Morveren Hollow, Cornwall
Familiar: A young threstal
I was born in a village on the cliffs of Cornwall, where the sea whispered ancient secrets and stars always seemed just a little closer. Raised in a quiet cottage filled with books, sea salt, and silence, I was the child of a Muggle artist and a magical historian.
From a young age, I was different. Not louder, not brighter — but deeper. While other children played Quidditch, I would wonder the cliffs with a notebook, collecting wild herbs and stories from the wind. I would speak to shadows like old friends and often laid beneath trees, dreaming of lives not yet lived.
At 8 years old, I lost my mother before my eyes as she attempted to shield me from a curse during an unexpected duel in Knockturn Alley. She had taken me there to find a rare herb, one she swore would help me sleep better. But something went wrong. She wasn’t a fighter, only a storyteller with gentle magic and fierce love — and she gave her life for mine.
Afterwards, my father tried his best. He didn’t understand magic the way she had, but he understood me. He would paint for hours beside me as I scribbled down dreams and potions. He kept our home warm with laughter, even when it was broken with grief. But one year later, the sea took him too in a storm.
A week after I saw a young Thestral with silver eyes and shadowed wings standing at the edge of the cliff, cloaked in mist. I named her Sora, meaning sky.
Magic came softly at first — frost blooming beneath my fingertips in grief, fireflies gathering when I sang, lost objects reappearing in my hands when others needed them most.
When my Hogwarts letter arrived I held it quietly, heart full, as though they had always known it would come.
The Sorting Hat barely touched my head before whispering, “Ah. A mind full of stars and stories. Ravenclaw.” But it paused. “And such loyalty, such heart… you’d do well in Hufflepuff, too"
