Full Name: Polly Edith Thomas
Nicknames: Polly
Birthdate: May 8, 1883
Current Age:11 Years
Gender: Female
Occupation: Scullery maid
Reputation: 10, because she’s a kid so she doesn’t have much of a reputation yet.
Residence: irvingly
Hogwarts House: Unknown
Wand: None yet
Blood Status: Muggleborn
Social Class: Working
Family: Unknown
Appearance: Polly is a small, delicate little girl. Slender and somewhat stunted, she stands at just four feet. She has long dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. While Polly is left handed, she’s been taught to use her right hand so thoroughly that she is now mainly right handed. She dresses simply in plain dresses in subdued colors.
History:

TW: brief references to child abuse, ableism

Polly never knew her mother or her father, though she supposed she must have them. After all, everyone did. But Polly never knew hers. The more unkind children at the orphanage said that she didn’t have parents at all, that she was a fairy changeling, and the poor human family whose baby got snatched had dumped her with the sisters in hopes of getting their real child back. Polly tried not to believe them, but sometimes she wondered.

After all, even the kind children found her odd. She couldn’t do lots of things the other children could. She didn’t look at people when they spoke to her. She didn’t speak til she was four, and even after that, she struggled. She whined and threw fits if the sisters made her touch: sticky, or gritty, or rough, things, or wear: dresses with high collars, or made from wool, or garments too big or too shoes too small, or eat: lumpy or plain foods—mashed potatoes, overcooked carrots, meat with fat or drippings or gristle, watery, tepid porridge, unseasoned fish, plain bread, bland stews.

The nuns said she was spoiled, and they knew exactly how to deal with spoiled children. Corporal punishment was the accepted method, and all the children feared the sisters’ discipline. Polly, whose challenges were thought to be brought on by an inherently bad character, was the frequent recipient of the nuns’ correction, beginning when she was still in dispersed and proved difficult to tend to or settle or leave unattended.

When Polly was three years old, her magic manifested for the first time. Sister Mary was spanking her with the dreaded wooden spoon after she’d thrown another fit over breakfast, when all at once the spoon sailed out of the woman’s hand and struck the wall, where it cracked in half. Sister Mary, believing the girl possessed, simply grabbed another spoon, determined now to beat both the devil and the willfulness from the girl. This spoon did not break, and Polly threw no more fits, and so she considered her tasks successful.

Over the years, Polly’s magic continued to show itself—and continued to get her into trouble—but the occurrences were small. A broken dish here a missing sweet that somehow turned up in Polly’s pocket there, and all easily blamed on carelessness or outright bad behavior. When Polly did try to protest her innocence, she just got a mouthful of soap and yet another spanking for telling lies, so after a while, she let the sisters think what they wanted.

When she was nine, Polly was deemed suitable for work, and she left the orphanage to go work as a scullery maid in a grand house. Here, too, disaster seemed to follow her. She set the drapes on the housekeeper’s room on fire. Then, she dropped the fine china when it wasn’t even in her hands. The final straw came when she somehow upended a bucket full of water over the cook’s head, when she was in the next room. That did it, and Polly was out on her ear the next morning.

For the next year, she struggled to find work. Though she was hired readily enough, eventually either the accidents, or news of them—or both—caught up with her, and she’d be sacked once more. At last, the Ministry of Magic got wind of a ‘cursed servant girl’ and intervened. They found her lodgings and a family willing to take her in Irvingly, and there she’s been ever since.

Personality:

Polly is, above all else, timid. She stammers when spoken to, twists her fingers together and picks at loose threads when she answers, and flinches at the slightest touch. She cannot bring herself to look anyone in the eyes, and, if forced to, will appear visibly uncomfortable. When in crowds, she retreats into silence, or monosyllabic answers if she’s compelled to speak.

Once she’s comfortable, or with someone she knows, a different side of her comes out. She will smile, she might even laugh, and if she’s really relaxed, she will chatter about her interests, especially stories and music. This more whimsical side is precarious, though, and she will retreat, emotionally or sometimes physically, at the first hint that she’s upset her conversation partner.

Polly also has a deep need to be seen as good, and this manifests in some pretty unhealthy ways. She is compliant to a fault, saying yes to any request she doesn’t consider bad—she wouldn’t hurt someone unless they hurt her or someone she cared about first— only to wish she’d said no later. She is also quite gullible and very trusting, believing the best of people even when she shouldn’t, and forgiving them even after she should stop. She is polite to everyone, and will say sir or ma’am on reflex.

Sheltered and naive, Polly is illiterate and knows little of the wider world, or events current or historical. She is profoundly superstitious, and believes in ghosts, fairies, the evil eye, etc. She is trusting to a fault as well, and will believe what she’s told without a second thought, unless immediate contradictory evidence appears.

Other: Polly is meant to be autistic, and also has global developmental delays, expressive language delays, and visual and auditory processing disorders.

Sample Roleplay Post: Polly hummed to herself as she worked. She liked it when Mrs. Evens asked her to scrub the hallway floor. It kept most of the boardinghouse guests from trying to talk to her, and that was nice, nice, nice. Polly did not mean to be unfriendly, but making mouthwords was dreadfully hard when she did it for people she knew, never mind when they were perfect strangers, and grownups besides. No, being left to do her chores in peace was far better.

Besides, it gave her a chance to get to know Trinket, Mrs. Evens’ house elf, better, and that was also nice, nice, nice. Polly liked Trinket. She never stared or giggled when Polly struggled to do up her shoelaces or button her coat, and she never shouted or scolded when Polly dropped a dish or broke a glass. Trinket was Polly’s first and best friend, and she didn’t care one fig if that made her peculiar.

Mrs. Evens didn't shout or scold, either, come to that, though Polly kept expecting she would. One day, the kind woman would run out of patience, and Polly would be sent away, just like always happened. She knew that she was right. It was just a matter of time.

All at once, a sound made her look up. Polly rocked back onto her heels, ducking her head to hide her scowl. Oh bother. Just when she thought she wouldn’t have to talk to anybody. Peering up at the person, she said, “Yes? M-may I, may I help you?”

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