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Malachi Erikson

0 · 282 views · located in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

a character in “The TriWizard Tournament”, originally authored by Armageddon, as played by RolePlayGateway


Malachi Erikson


Nicknames: Mal

Age: 17

Gender: Male

House: Durmstrang Institute

Height: 6'0"


Build: Slender

Hair Color: Brown

Eye Color: Blue

Appearance Description: Tall, slightly messy haired and bright blue eyed, Malachi is often considered handsome by most witches he comes across, not that he's ever thought about his appearance that much. His skin is quite fair at the moment, mostly because he doesn't get a whole lot of sun at Durmstrang, unfortunately. He also isn't the most muscular guy, more lanky than brawny, but that's just fine with him. He dresses in quite an ordinary fashion, when he isn't sporting the blood red uniform of Durmstrang. His clothing mostly consists of plain jeans, t-shirts, converses and probably his favorite article of clothing - hoodies, he has a lot of them, since Durmstrang is so cold (Unfortunately so cold that sometimes hoodies just won't do the trick, even layered). He'll usually be found with his wand stuck through his belt and his earbuds in, if he isn't afraid he'll have his MP3 player confiscated because he isn't 'listening'.

Wand: Ebony, dragon heartstring, fourteen inches , unyielding

Magical Skills:
Outstanding -

Exceeds Expectations -
Defense Against The Dark Arts

Acceptable -
History of Magic

Quidditch (He likes to play Chaser)
His hoodies
Beanie hats
His barn owl, Persephone.
Sour Candy
Bernie Bott's Every Flavor Beans (It's fun to watch people's faces when they eat them.)
Joke shops (He's determined to go to one while he's at Hogwarts)

The freezing weather at Durmstrang. It just about impossible to go outside sometimes.
His father's opinions about Muggleborns.
The reputation Durmstrang has.
People who take things too seriously.


Personality description: Malachi is an outgoing young wizard who likes to have a good time, whether he's playing quidditch in his spare time or trying to bring a little more life to the seemingly dreary castle of Durmstrang by having a good laugh, often buying products from local joke shops and setting them up upon unsuspecting classmates or staff members, which can occasionally get him into trouble which he's usually pretty good at talking himself out of, most of the time. He enjoys teasing his close friends, however he would never do so cruelly - he has a kind heart, however at first glance that can sometimes be hidden beneath his ample self-confidence, sarcastic sense of humor and flirtatious nature, however he always looks after his friends, only ever teasing them in good fun and he would never allow someone to genuinely insult his friends while he's standing there. As was said before, Malachi is quite a confident young man who loves to flirt whenever given the opportunity, which can give him a bit of a arrogant or cocky appearance which is...Only partly true, he says. He likes to show off, there's no denying that - he hardly ever passes up an opportunity to showcase his talents however he knows when he's been beat and will usually shake hands with whoever has managed to best him thanks to his laid back nature..

Admittedly, he's never prided himself on his amazing knack for studying. He's never been the type of guy you'd find in the library if he can help it. He has a few subjects he really likes, but as a whole he doesn't think of himself as being very scholarly at all.

History: Malachi is the son of Litha Morgan and Cal Erikson, born on a summer's eve in Norway. He has a half-sister, Griselda who is younger than him by a few years. Malachi has always been pressured to be an excellent student by Cal who had attended Durmstrang himself and is proud of the reputation he has there, however Malachi hardly cares and prefers to enjoy himself at school (Unless he's in History of Magic or Divination, in those cases he is asleep.) whenever possible.

Growing up, Malachi always told how lucky he was to be born a pureblood by Cal who has always prided himself on his heritage, however he never completely grasped the importance of this as a child. As he grew older and began asking questions, his mother (Who never shared Cal's point of view) explained to him that there was no true difference - that they were witches and wizards and it shouldn't matter if they were muggleborn, half-blood, or 'pureblooded' and that some wizards just like to think they're better than others. Malachi decided he liked his mother's way of thinking, much to his father's disappointment, especially when Malachi started making friends with half-bloods and muggleborns.

At first, Malachi felt a little bad for letting his father down however the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he shouldn't and therefore doesn't care at all now if his father is disappointed in his choice of friends or how he does in school.

The thing that Malachi is looking forward to most now is the trip to the TriWizard Tournament at Hogwarts which he has been selected to go to, for he knows that even if he doesn't get to be the Durmstrang champion he should still at least be able to have a good time there.

So begins...

Malachi Erikson's Story

(technical difficulties, ignore this one. Sorry)

Vladimir found it rather symbolic that the two guest schools would arrive near simultaneously. Unconscious habit resulted in him pulling out a Muggle cigarette, they helped him think, and light it. Before he could truly begin to smoke, it was destroyed by a nearby professor. He should have expected something like that, but he was still annoyed at the prospect. The walk from the ship into the Great Hall was much longer than he would have liked. In fact, he had to put on a poker face to disguise the fact he was getting winded. It was at this point, the host school would get a show from its guests- his school and Beauxbaton.

The french students went first, and they chose a rather graceful ballet. But he couldn't help but note that one student in particular hid in Madam Maxime's sizable shadow. His own school went next, a more militaristic show went under way...but he found himself preferring the more delicate show of the ballet. He seated himself at the Slytherin table with his fellow students, one in particular was immediately next to him but for the life him...a name couldn't be associated to face. At this point the Hogwarts Headmistress began the speech for the Triwizard Tournament- something he entirely zoned out. He used this chance to glance around the hallway, in particular a couple students at each table stood out to him. Of most importance from what he could measure was the girl from Maxime's shadow, a Ravenclaw girl as tall as himself and two Hufflepuffs- a male and female. It was really more gut instinct than anything that caught his eye. A family teaching was- the powerful naturally command their environment as they see fit. The two Hufflepuffs naturally had all the attention of those nearby. The French girl and the Ravenclaw girl had caught his eye with how inconspicuous they were attempting to remain. He was unable to examine the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables before the speech ended.

"Guess it's time for us to set the standard," he clapped the crimson robe next to him as he stood up. For his family, reputation was highly important. The Triwizard Tournament demanded the best students, his own accidental reputation demanded utmost pride and utter control. This made him stride to the Goblet of Fire with deliberate ease, he dropped his name in on a sheet he had also prepared in advanced. This let him get himself together, catch his breath and provide a better atmosphere.

"Is there no one else prepared at this night," he loudly called out to the full hall. "Beauxbaton, you provided a most excellent dance...but is that all you learn at your school?" His gaze traced the full carpet of blue,ultimately falling onto the one from before. He pointed to the Gryffindor student, "I heard your house is prized for its courage...I'm not seeing it now."

He arbitrarily chose a random student from the Hufflepuff table, one too young to enter. "Surely your House has its own pride, or is the stereotype true?" He instantly rounded towards the tall girl from the Ravenclaw table, " Your house is claimed for its genius." Oddly enough, another girl caught his a bit closer to himself, "Could you think of a better validation of your methods than this very tournament...the ultimate test is right here." From here he looked to the Slytherin table...a rather young girl in particular- one just entering her teens.

"To your House I'd like to offer the thanks of my school for welcoming us to your table. In fact I'll thank everyone present for the Tournament. But Slytherin, your House is known for cunning, nobility and ambition. I simply ask this: prove it." He deliberately kept his tone challenging and defiant. He also stood his ground inside the Age Line, he'd be a poor sport to not welcome those he himself had just called out. He had to force himself from grabbing his throat, addressing the entire hall had been like swallowing a glass of needles with each syllable. Due to an issue from birth, his voice was naturally quiet and talking somewhat painful...this had been his equivalent to screaming his voice out. As he swallowed, hoping to lubricate his raw throat- a metallic taste filled his mouth.

Faye was quite pleased with the show the two foreign schools gave and clapped along with the rest of the Great Hall. After their performances, Professor McGonagall gave a short introduction to the Triwizard Tournament. It seemed that no sooner had she stepped down from raised dais where the Goblet sat that a Durmstrang student had marched up, hastily putting his name in the Goblet. Another followed shortly after him and as the second boy stepped down, the first who was the taller of the two, made a rousing speech, though unnecessary.

After he had finished, a rather determined looking Beauxbatons girl who had asked for a piece of parchment from her walked up to the Goblet, placing her own name among the two from Durmstrang. Faye had wanted to enter and she was still a little miffed about what the taller Durmstrang had said about her house, but she was not a Gryffindor and lacked a significant amount of courage to be the first from her school to enter.

No sooner had she had these thoughts that Al, her good friend from Hufflepuff practically leapt from his seat among his admirers to prove himself. As he passed her table on his way to the dais, he gave a smile and a wink, knowing that she was going to go right after him. Never one to disappoint, she got up from her own seat after hastily scribbling her own name on a piece of parchment and silently made her to the Goblet where the she let the parchment slip from her hands into the flames. She didn't longer and quickly made her way back to her seat among the Ravenclaws.

Alistair was rather amused by the Durmstrang's speech. He had never seen the Gryffindors and Slytherins so put in their place, and it made him chuckle. Not a moment after the pretty girl from Beauxbatons had put her name in the Goblet, Al jumped up and practically strutted to the Goblet smiling and winking at Faye on the way. He'd show that Durmstrang that he wasn't just another stereotype.

Using the slip of paper that he had taken from Kaylee, who had been sitting beside him, he entered the Tournament feeling confident. He passed Faye on his way back to his table as she made her way towards the Goblet and wished her good luck. It was the Hufflepuff in him to wish his competition good luck. It most certainly wasn't because he had a crush on her that's spanned four years. At least that's what he told himself.

#, as written by Rann
Stupid. Why are they celebrating this stupid thing?

That's the driving question behind Olivia, sitting with the Slytheryns during the whole opening ceremony. The Tri-Wizard Tournament. This is the reason why Olivia tried so hard to be allowed to just not attend Hogwarts this year, but her parents had adamantly refused with a threat of the cruciatus curse. Not knowing if they were serious or not, Olivia decided not to risk it. There had to be a reason why they wanted her at Hogwarts so badly, but no matter how hard the girl twisted and turned her mind, she couldn't think of anything she could do that no one else could, unless all of a sudden paper summons are the new favorite weapon of the Death Eaters. The only real advantage she can think of is that she can operate easily within school grounds.

There's something planned. Unfortunately, Olivia has no idea exactly what's in store.

These stupid seventh-years, getting so riled up at the idea of competing. And don't forget all the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang prospects. Is there really a not a single person even slightly wary of anything?

"'Course, it'll be me who gets in." Bragged a Slytheryn seventh year. "I'll pay back those other houses... we won't be looked down upon any more!"

Olivia vaguely knows his name to be Tobias something or other. She doesn't really know his last name, nor is she all that interested. All she knows is that she really wants to challenge him to a duel and test out a new attack pattern for her conjured paper creatures, designed to penetrate shields and bypass spells in order to attack the victim's wand arm. She practiced it on a fifth year Gryffindor before the ceremony, and it worked well, but he was an idiot to not be battle-ready at all times, anyways. The Head Nurse has probably already fixed up his arm. While Tobias stood up to enter his name into the Goblet, to the cheers of the Slytheryn House, Olivia just sat with her head propped up on her elbows, rested on the table, rolling her eyes with annoyance.

Still, Olivia didn't mind Tobias something or other's goals. Ever since the whole Voldemort thing, the Slytheryn house has been looked down upon with suspicion and distrust. Sure, perhaps it was for good reasons, but nonetheless. It still hurt, each time, even a little bit, when they were ignored in favor for valiant Gryffindors, loyal Hufflepuffs, or genius Ravenclaws.

One by one, students were writing down their name to put into the goblet, and one by one, all Olivia could think of was that they were willingly volunteering to become a sheep to the slaughter.

I hope they don't expect me to kill anyone.