WHICH MEMBER OF STAFF IS AN IDIOT WHO NEEDS A NAME CHANGE ON THEIR CHARACTER'S USERNAME? THIS WITCH.
Full Name: Orla Bridget McCrae.
Birthdate: 6th January, 1852.
Current Age: 40.
Gender: Female.
Occupation: Photographer at the Daily Prophet.
Reputation: Six at Admin discretion. Working woman with dubious history, but no one knows much about it in magical society.
Residence: A flat in London she claims to share with another widow.
Hogwarts House: Slytherin.
Wand: Rosewood, 12’, veela hair core, requires extreme precision.
Blood Status: Muggleborn.
Social Class: Working.
Appearance: Standing at an unusually tall 5'7 Orla benefits from a strong, slender body, thick dark hair and calculating eyes. She does not benefit from her nose, which she considers unfortunate, or the pallor that makes her look almost vampiric. She smiles seldom, dresses rather better than most women of her class - though her clothes do have a remarkable amount of pockets - and she uses her left hand for wand-casting.
Personality: Judgmental in an entirely hypocritical way. Surprisingly funny once you get to know her. Survivor. Morality vacuum. Highly observational. Likes knowing stuff.
Other: Along with being very skilled at confundus and summoning charms Orla also counts the French language (sort of), needlework (mostly unpicking) and close-up magic (the muggle kind) amongst her skills - she's great at parties.
Age: 32.
In-Character
Full Name: Orla Bridget McCrae.
Birthdate: 6th January, 1852.
Current Age: 40.
Gender: Female.
Occupation: Photographer at the Daily Prophet.
Reputation: Six at Admin discretion. Working woman with dubious history, but no one knows much about it in magical society.
Residence: A flat in London she claims to share with another widow.
Hogwarts House: Slytherin.
Wand: Rosewood, 12’, veela hair core, requires extreme precision.
Blood Status: Muggleborn.
Social Class: Working.
Appearance: Standing at an unusually tall 5'7 Orla benefits from a strong, slender body, thick dark hair and calculating eyes. She does not benefit from her nose, which she considers unfortunate, or the pallor that makes her look almost vampiric. She smiles seldom, dresses rather better than most women of her class - though her clothes do have a remarkable amount of pockets - and she uses her left hand for wand-casting.
History:
Does it really matter where you come from at the end of the day? A girl could be the oldest of six children born to a farmer in Halifax or the only daughter of a Presbyterian minister in Inveraray and there's as good a chance she'll end up in London eventually.
Alright, not every girl gets called on by a strange man when they're eleven - though, having lived in London a while now I can say that sadly, some do - but it's a rare child that's whisked off to a castle with their parent's suspicious looks on their backs. I was just such a child and the castle I called home for seven years was the stuff of fairytales.
The people were less idyllic. Most couldn't decide which they hated me more for: being born to parents who weren't their kind, or that in a castle full of strange people still stranger things happened around me. Namely that things went missing. Some pointed the finger but with God as my witness I don't know to this day where those things went. I wouldn't want their tat anyway.
My father felt much the same about me. Every time he saw me he was less welcoming and when I came home with a few NEWTs to my name he didn't let me through the door. I heard he dropped dead a few years later but I wouldn’t know anything about that - I never saw the man, or my mother, again after that.
There was work to be found, though it amounted to little more than skivvying and, with the education I had, it was well beneath me. Somehow I still couldn’t get on in the magical world - it’s hard on your own. Fortunately I remembered how to blend in with muggles and they were far happier to give me the sort of life that I expected, or at least they didn’t couldn’t stop me.
Gerald McCrae really did want to marry me, whatever his sisters might have said, and it was hardly my fault he came to rely on me so much. Obviously I was a fantastic wife. Up until when he cruelly divorced me, of course, though it was good of him to make me such a generous payment. Really softened the blow. And after so short a time too. Lovely man. I often wonder what happened to him and if he ever managed to get me out of his system. (Digestively, it was probably out of him in a day or two.)
After that I went to London and here I’ve remained. Over the years the odd pocket might have become empty when I’ve passed by a rich gentleman but for the first time in my life I also found a real, true passion: photography. Preserving images of people at their best and worst pays far more than I could ever have imagined. The magical world I’d avoided for a decade hadn’t changed much but fortunately I had a few more gold coins to my name than last time - dear Gerald - and Diagon Alley has plenty of things worth photographing.
The Prophet’s a good, solid workplace too. The reporters are a bit idealistic, the weather witch is too pretty for her own good, but it’s always useful to know what’s happening before everyone else. Really gives you an edge.
Personality: Judgmental in an entirely hypocritical way. Surprisingly funny once you get to know her. Survivor. Morality vacuum. Highly observational. Likes knowing stuff.
Other: Along with being very skilled at confundus and summoning charms Orla also counts the French language (sort of), needlework (mostly unpicking) and close-up magic (the muggle kind) amongst her skills - she's great at parties.
Out-of-Character
Name: Lauren.Age: 32.
