Pen.
As Pen stood on the platform of King's Cross Station, her trunk by her side and Plum the owl, perched on top, she couldn't help but feel conflicted. The excitement of returning to Hogwarts for her seventh and final year was very much clear, but it was mingling with the apprehension of what...
Ophelia.
At King’s Cross, the usual collection of parting families swirled around the seventeen year old. She edged toward Platform 9 ¾, her father and sister flanking her, the clamor of the station a distant buzz against their more intimate farewell.
Her father enveloped her in an embrace, his...
Pen.
It was an unexpected turn of events to say the least. The thief got away but Pen had memorized that pathetic little face and would for the end of her days. If there was one thing she was great for, it was holding a grudge.
Sure, it was nice that the team had realized what had went on but...
Ophelia.
Arriving at the designated address led to a new task for Ophelia and her companions: returning Harold, the owl whose name they had learned along the way, to the post office. She had to admit, she was a little sad their journey was coming to an end. She had been enjoying the...
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Callum...
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Callum...
Pen.
Briar's participation in Maurice's magic act, a peculiar bit of muggle sleight of hand was an unexpected twist to the evening. Pen watched, barely containing her amusement, as Briar acted as a good sport, played along with Maurice's disappearing and reappearing ball trick. Despite Briar's...
Ophelia.
As Ophelia watched Vijay engage with Professors Allegro and Shafiq, her focus was momentarily divided. Her admiration for Vijay's skillful care of the small owl, coupled with a sense of pride in his proficiency with healing spells, filled her with relief. The anxiety that had initially...
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Pen.
The air in the Leaky Cauldron was unpleasant with the mingled scents of various brews and the damp wood that had absorbed countless spells and conversations over the years. For Pen however, it was more so the sea of bodies that packed the room tighter than a tin of sardines that really...
Ophelia.
In the quiet comfort of her bedroom, Ophelia stood before a thin black rimmed mirror, her reflection gazing back at her with a sense of contentment. She looked just the same as last year; a normal frizzy haired seventeen year old girl. What caught her eye and drew a warm smile was not...
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"Penelope Wayworth, but just call me Pen."
/*Who is she?*/
Penelope
BASICS INFO IN A CUTE CRIMINAL PROFILE SUMMARY HERE
Slightly unhinged. Short.
Terrible at her studies.
Nicotine addicted.
Wanna be friends...