Full Name: Killian Aodhán Claxton
Nicknames: K, Claxton, Kill
Birthdate: November 7, 1875
Current Age: 17 years
Gender: Male
Occupation: Student and Chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team
Reputation: 10
Residence: Belfast, Ireland
Hogwarts House: Slytherin
Wand:  Blackthorn, 14", Unyielding, Dragon heartstring
Blood Status: Pure
Social Class: Upper


Family:

Father - Deamon Aodhán Claxton:
• Date of Birth: May 25, 1847
• Current Age: 46

Mother - Aisling Róisín Claxton:
• Date of Birth: December 8, 1845
• Current Age: 44

Twin brother - Aiden Aodhán Claxton:
• Date of Birth: November 7, 1875
• Date of Death: June 4, 1887

Younger Sister - Saoirse Róisín Claxton:
•Date of Birth: July 15, 1879
• Current Age: 14 (4th year at Hogwarts)
• Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Younger Sister  - Blair Róisín Claxton:
• Date of Birth: June 18, 1882
• Current Age: 11 (1st year at Hogwarts)
• Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Appearance:

Physique: Killian has an aloof presence that draws attention to him when he enters a room. He carries himself with a solid confidence blended with an easy-going demeanor. He is tall 6,1’ and well-built, yet lean. His hair is bronzed blonde, eyes a Slytherin-house green, and his ivory skin is covered in tattoos that have personal meaning to him.

Clothes: More often than not, Killian can be seen in expensive brands as instructed by his parents. His clothes are fashionable, but he wears it with a rebellious edge, reflecting his refusal to fully conform.

Other:
Wand hand: right.
Faceclaim: Thomas Davenport


History:

Part 1: The Burden of Legacy
"The Irish storm lashed at his ivory skin, yet Killian remained stoic, seemingly unfazed by the fury around him. His emerald eyes appeared bleak and lifeless, mirroring the battle inside. The irony was, he was not dead. He was still breathing, his heart still beating. 'Lucky,' they had called him. Lucky. What a load of shite. Killian wanted to be dead. If he could, he would trade places with Aiden in a heartbeat. It should have been him and not his brother."

Wealth, power, and towering expectations. Killian never asked for any of it. He never had to. Killian Claxton, a wizard born into a lineage synonymous with power, ambition, and dark magic, grew up in the shadow of his notorious family name in Belfast, Ireland. Being the eldest son of powerful wizards and witches like his parents meant that his life was etched in stone before he could even speak.

Growing up, Killian's days were filled with learning magic, practicing spells, and going on secret trips to hidden parts of the city where ominous cloaked figures gathered. They wore black robes, radiating an icy coolness that sent shivers down one's spine. When he and Aiden were just twelve, they were ordered to join one of these trips—a journey that would forever torment Killian. Aiden lost his life that night, and Killian could never let himself forget it. From that point on, Killian fought tirelessly to prove his worth, hoping that if he excelled in the magical arts and became the best, he could somehow make amends for the past.

Part 2: You are either on my side, by my side, or in my way

At 11, Killian started at Hogwarts and was sorted into Slytherin House, upholding family tradition. A quiet confidence and a steadfast demeanor set Killian apart from the very start—a blend of ambition and mystery that both intrigued and unsettled his peers.

Rumors circulated among students about his family's dark ties, hinting at forbidden arts. Most steered clear of confronting him, but there were always exceptions. In a Defense Against the Dark Arts class, a Gryffindor student dared to taunt him about his family, explicitly alluding to forbidden magical practices.

Without missing a beat, Killian calmly turned to face the Gryffindor student, his green eyes holding a quiet determination. Killian held his gaze, unaffected by his attempts to provoke him. With measured composure, he spoke, his words sharp and direct, cutting through the room. "Here's some advice, Patrick, free of charge: You poke a snake, eventually you get bitten. Best check your facts before challenging a Claxton. Or shall I enlighten the room about your 'family secrets'?"

Possibly ruled by a hero complex, Patrick drew a wand and without a second thought, tried to escalate the confrontation. The challenge was thrown, wand drawn, attempting a disarming spell. But Killian, swiftly countered, disarming the challenger within mere seconds. The duel had hardly begun before it concluded. A glint could be seen in his eyes reflecting a mixture of amusement and mild provocation. "A little too eager, mate. Keep practicing." Killian shifted his attention back to the lecture, leaving Patrick seething in the background.

Part 3: Playing with fire

By his fifth year at Hogwarts, doubt started creeping into his mind. His main focus had always been to meet his parents’ expectations, but over time, he got sidetracked by unexpected distractions. Quidditch games, hangouts with fellow Slytherins and girls started competing for his attention, even though it contradicted all he was raised to disregard.

And to add to the chaos, there was a Gryffindor girl. Not even pure-blood, but somehow, she managed to chip away at his usually stoic façade. There was a spark, an attraction he couldn't deny—like a fierce Quidditch match, a jolt of adrenaline that made him feel alive whenever he saw her.

But, like a bucket of cold water on a blazing fire, their romance came to a quick end with his parents' disapproval. Killian had no choice but to break off whatever they had. It was the right thing to do, he kept telling himself, and yet he still could not help but look for her in the crowd when he walked the castle hallways.

Part 4: Time to make a choice

In his seventh and therefore final year at Hogwarts, Killian finds himself torn between his dreams and his family's expectations. Despite being a respected player on Slytherin's Quidditch team and receiving professional offers, he hesitates, fearing parental disapproval. Inside, the fire to fulfill his potential on the Quidditch pitch blazes, contrasting with the façade of compliance he puts forward. The guilt, the longing for his lost brother, and the suppressed anger simmer beneath the surface, threatening to spill over. Killian fights a daily war between being himself and not letting his family down.

Other:
- The Claxton name is of Irish origin, just like Killian himself. He was born and raised on a grand estate on the outskirts of Belfast, surrounded by vast lands colliding with the ocean. Household staff are always present in his family home, but the same can't be said for his parents.
- He is fluent in Irish and not so much else. You can clearly hear it in his accent.
- Hack: talk about dragons or Quidditch and you’ve got Killian's undivided attention.
- Secretly, Killian's dreams of playing for the Irish Quidditch team, but he would never admit to it, knowing his parents would disapprove
- Killian is very protective of his younger siblings at Hogwarts.
- Patronus: black wolf.


Sample Roleplay Post:
On a wet Sunday morning, the pitch was buzzing with activity before the break of day. The wind howled through the colorful stands, sending shivers through the already adrenalin filled bodies. Rain lashed down, a relentless assault, but it only seemed to fuel their determination, each droplet feeding into their competitive nature. Their green cloaks were drenched within minutes, clinging to their forms, but they barely took notice. Every individual on the field was completely focused, energized by the storm, treating this practice like the Quidditch Cup itself. The air crackled with the excitement of it, a charged atmosphere that blended with the scent of rain-soaked earth.

Despite their struggle to catch their breath in the turbulent weather, they still managed to maintain the usual banter while soaring through the brisk air. Killian appreciated this camaraderie. Perhaps it was the Irish in him, or maybe it was just a testament to his guarded character, but regardless, being provocative had always come naturally to him.
As Killian dodged another Bludger, the rush of adrenaline surged through his veins, sharpening his senses. The Quaffle plummeted through the air, and he swiftly darted after it, the rain stinging his eyes and blurring his vision.

Balancing on the edge of his broomstick, he caught the Quaffle just in time, the leather slippery from the rain. Some mates cheered for him, their voices cutting through the roar of the wind. However, among the cheers, only one comment got to him — a comment that would usually make him burst into laughter, but not at that moment. Quite the opposite. As his fingers closed tightly around the Quaffle, a fleeting memory flashed before his eyes: Aiden, with his big grin, flying beside him and bantering with him.

Killian’s usual mischievous demeanor turned bleak. Instead of taking the shot himself, he deliberately clenched his teeth, feeling his chest tighten as his brother's laughter echoed in his mind. Feck, he did not have time for this. Not here. Not now. The comment had sent him right back to the past, and instead of hearing the voice of his teammate, he heard the voice of Aiden. Only it couldn’t have been him. His brother had passed years ago.

It was ridiculous how the memories still crept into Killian’s mind. It happened less and less often, which explained why he was taken even more aback when it finally hit him. Killian felt his body freeze, and apparently, his odd behavior caught the attention of his team. Marcus, the Beater, shot him a perplexed glance before grinning. "Hey, Claxton! What’s going on – are you daydreaming about your secret crush again?”

The teasing comment forced Killian back to the present moment. For a second, he looked confused before regaining the mischievous glint in his emerald eyes. “Aye, yes, Marc. Dreaming of you, as always. The secret's out,” he shot back, his voice carrying a hint of sarcasm.

Laughter erupted among the team members, including Marcus. Everyone returned to the game, not giving the episode another thought aside from Emma, another Chaser, who was giving him a questionable look. “Are you alright, K?” she asked. Solely prompted by the question, Killian got an impulse to frown, but instead, he put on a confused expression, feigning ignorance. “Yeah, all good,” he said. Emma did not accept his response, making him crack a smirk. “Stop overthinking everything. It is Sunday morning... the sun isn't even up yet. Give me a break.”

Emma rolled her eyes. She wasn't easily fooled, but she chose to let it slide for now, her playful smile returning. "Whatever. As long as you're not lost during the actual match."
Killian nodded, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes for being let off the hook. Emma was a true pain in the ass, but the good kind—the kind you wanted in your corner. Both on the field and off the field.

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