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Alice Longbottom

"Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy."

0 · 981 views · located in Hogwarts

a character in “The Year The Sky Fell {Hogwarts}”, as played by Mac n Cheese

Description

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Full Name:
"A name for each grandmum --one dead and one permanently residing at Mungo's. Not to be grim or anything."
Alice Nora Longbottom

Nickname:
Al {Close Friends} Nory {Family Members}

Birthdate:
♓ February 28th ♓

Age:
Seventeen [17]

Ancestry:
Mixed

Parents:
"Yeah, my dad's the herbology professor so I have to do well. I love my parents to pieces, especially because they are such cornballs."
Neville Longbottom & Hannah Abbott

Pet:
A Toad Named Louie

Relationship Status:
"I've maybe got a small reputation for snogging in empty corridors. I'm just having a laugh."
Single

Height
5'7" [~1.7018m]



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Image House: Hufflepuff
"People don't mind us much, but really Hufflepuffs are some of the most wonderful friends to have, I think."

O.W.L's:
Herbology: O || Charms: A || DADA: A || Divination: D || Transfiguration: P || Potions: O || Care of Magical Creatures: E || Arithmancy: O || History of Magic: T || Astronomy: D || Ancient Runes: P
Quidditch: Al is one of the Hufflepuff Team's Chasers

Wand:
9 3/4" Alder Wood, Unicorn Hair Core
Broom: Cleansweep 11
"Celia gets the job done. What, you haven't named your broom?"

Skills:
Al always seems to be smile, and this is contagious. She's very good at cheering people up and making them feel eat ease. Maybe she just as 'one of those faces,' or maybe people just don't see her as a danger to them. She's also got a knack for finding lost things, it's kind of her sixth sense. And lost people, occasionally.
Patronus:
Jellyfish -- For the life of her Alice doesn't know why a jellyfish, but she does like the way it moves.
Boggart:
Al's boggart is without a doubt a dementor, and has been since she first heard of them as a child. As a person who makes such an effort to remain positive, and who finds meaning in laughter and the like, the idea of a creature draining her of all joy is enough to frighten away her usually omnipresent smile.


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Personality:
{ Energetic, Self-Deprecating, Warm, Loyal, Careless }
To those who know her, Al is the sort of person who always seems to be ready for the next moment, as though her entire body is a spring always at least a little bit compressed, filled with the potential to spring forward. This can be seen in little things about the young woman, such as the quickness of her walk [which is often times nearly a skip], and the way she begins to laugh at her own jokes before she has even told the punchline. That's the sort of thing which is classic of the girl, who is known for breaking into hysterical laughter that is so bizarre it is funny in itself. She has a contagious laugh, one of those ones with erratic squeaks and snorts when she is really dying, and it's indicative of the girl as a whole. Al has one of those energies which people are either pulled towards or find really, very annoying. If someone tells her to keep it down, the girl really will try her best, but usually to no avail as the attempt to suppress her laughter fills the girl to the brim and has her cracking up all over again. Whether it be a midnight kitchen raid or a 5am run, the girl is up for it. She's someone who must try everything once, twice to see if she likes it, and then once more to confirm. She can seem rather childish with her need to sample everything at times, but it's part of what makes her Al.

Unfortunately, another part of what makes the girl herself is a self deprecating sense of humor that can sometimes go much further than one might be inclined to think at first. When one first gets to know the girl, it's merely hinted at in little jabs she takes at her own intelligence, comments she makes reprimanding herself for mistakes, etc. But if one pays attention as they become closer to Al, they will find that this is peppered throughout her daily routine far more than is shown merely through comments. When she sees her failing grades in classes, which are more than she'd like to admit, or receives back a poor grade on an assignment she genuinely worked hard on, there is a sort of resignation in her expression. "I'm just a dolt. Why do I keep messing up? Why can't I get this to absorb through my thick head?" Just as her father struggled with insecurity during his early years at Hogwarts, so does Alice: but hers is such that it is hidden between an endless stream of corny jokes and smiles, deflecting conversation away from herself unless it is an insult. She rarely forgives herself, which is funny considering how readily she forgives others.

Al is, typically speaking, that friend. The one who will be ready with a stupid joke to break an awkward silence or a steaming cup of hot coco to make a friend feel better. A true Hufflepuff she puts her friends above all else, and is willing to drop everything in order to help a friend. She may not be the person one would go to for tutoring in most subjects [even the one's she's good at she has difficulty explaining], but if one needs nothing more than someone who is willing to listen and try and cheer them up, Al is that girl. She easily makes friends (with people who don't find her energy annoying), because she is quick to give people chances and open her arms. Of course, this also means she risks opening her arms to the wrong people, but Al is willing to take the chance. And when it comes to her inner circle of friends, she would do anything for them: loyalty comes before ambition, cleverness, and even bravery.

This doesn't necessarily mean she's the motherly type, though. At least not in respect to the idea of the motherly one in the group being the one who has things together, who remains stable. When it comes to herself, as previously touched upon, Al can be something of a mess. She is incredibly disorganized, both mentally and physically, and half the time seems to only have half a clue what she's doing. She dusts the mess with sunlight to make it seem as though it is simply eclectic, but the girl is far too careless for her own good. Perhaps this because she used to be that friend who constantly bit off more than they could chew. She wanted to do well in things, but time and time again found herself falling short no matter how hard she worked. She has those things she is good at, mostly science based, but everything else was a struggle for her. So now, she has resigned herself to take things as they come. She does not look to the future as she likely should, and tends to allow things to slip away when she ought to grasp them more firmly. It's hard to realize this, though, when she's making a joke about the thing as it floats away.



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Brief History:
Alice Nora Longbottom was born to two of the most loving parents someone could possibly ask for. Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott weren't particularly close during their time at Hogwarts, but sometime after the war they met back up and simply clicked, leading to a loving couple. When they had their first child, they named her for two women they lost to Voldemort: Alice Longbottom and Hannah's mother, Nora Abbott. Daughter of a Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, of course Alice was raised to cherish friends and to be willing to put herself on the line for others. Of course, many of her favorite memories are centered around playing in the greenhouse of Hogwarts as a child, or running up and down Diagon Alley with her friends while her mother shouted after her to "Please stop pestering the shopkeepers." She was a spirited young girl and continues to be one, the child who always had strange things to say with a pleased smile. Only two things could frighten away that smile: scary stories of dementors and death eaters, and visits to St Mungo's. The Longbottoms would go and visit Alice and Frank several times a year, and it was always something Al dreaded. Her father always had this sad look on her face, and even though her grandparents were never violent or anything along those lines, something about the emptiness in their eyes frightened her. To this day, Al dislikes visits to her grandparents, though she still keeps all of the wrappers she is given.

When she was eleven years old, Al was of course invited to attend Hogwarts, as all of her family before her had been. The little girl was bursting with excitement, for every year she had watched other children walk about Diagon Alley and prepare for the new school year. As her father is the herbology teacher, she had seen Hogwarts before, but of course that wasn't the same as being able to finally attend the school. The resolved to be the best young witch her family had seen yet-- unfortunately, however, the girl had difficulty focusing in classes her first year, and thus was not off to a good start. She began to work very hard, putting a lot of pressure on herself to do better, but in subjects such as ancient runes and history, she could never quite get it. Thus, the girl eventually gave up and resigned herself to doing poorly --not the sort of dedication one ought to see in a Hufflepuff.

And now, as she reaches her final year of schooling, Al has yet to decide what it is she wants to do with her life. She enjoys the more science based courses, herbology and potions, but still falters in many others. Her father is very accepting of this, having had his own difficulties as a child, but still encourages her to work harder. Instead, she focuses more on friends and being cheerful than on schoolwork, and she has no solid plans for her own life in the future, perhaps having always assumed she will just work at the Leaky Cauldron with her mum.

So begins...

Alice Longbottom's Story

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alice Longbottom Character Portrait: Scorpius Malfoy
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For the past few years, Al has been seeing herself to the train station for the annual ride to Hogwarts. Her mother is often busy with business at the Leaky Cauldron, and of course once she was around fourteen there seemed less need to be escorted. However, as it is her last year at Hogwarts and this fact had been tearing up Mrs. Longbottom for the better part of the last week, the girl has today come accompanied by her mother. Her father is, of course, already at the castle preparing for the welcoming feast and sorting. This would be Neville Longbottom, the much loved herbology teacher at Hogwarts [and likely the reason that Al felt obligated to do well in herbology]. Not the sort of person, teenager or not, to begrudge her slightly emotional mother a hug, Alice has her arms wrapped around her mother, who is shorter than her by a few inches, smile visible over her mother's head.

"And don't forget to pay more attention in History of Magic this year! You know I love you, but that Troll still came as something of a shock," Hannah Abbott-Longbottom reminds her daughter, firmness creeping into her previously soft voice. Al sighs. "I know, I'm sorry mum," she responds, a mix of disappointment and resign in her own voice. Al has long since resigned herself to failing classes like Ancient Runes, Divination, and History of Magic. It is the more scientific classes that spark her fancy, the herbology, potion, and transfiguration courses. Still, it hasn't stopped her from beating herself up every time History of magic is brought up. What a dolt. There are first years who could probably do better in that class.

Alice pulls away from her mother's embrace and smiles at her, no trace of the negativity in her face. It often seems that her default is cheerful and warm, and Al needs nothing more than a quick reset, maybe a nap, to improve her mood once more. "I'll see you later mum, okay?" of all the students, Al has the least to worry about in regards to not seeing her parents. This is obvious in having a professor father, but even her mother will often apparate to Hogsmeade for the day for a family meal of some sorts. If there is one thing Alice has in spades, it is the support of her parents. Her father puts an especially large amount of effort into ensuring this is the case, perhaps due to the fact that he was never able to really know his own parents, Al's grandmother and grandfather. Mrs. Longbottom nods, "I'll probably come down to visit you and your dad pretty soon," her mother says, though Al's father returns to the Leaky Cauldron most every weekend. Al nods and waves before walking off and boarding the train. The first matter of business is finding a compartment. Al hadn't seen any of her friends through the thicks of students in their parents, and expects that at least some of them have boarded by now.

She only walks for a while, having boarded towards the middle back, before catching a whiff of smoke. There is no need to hazard a guess at the source of it: Al is already aware. As expected, she finds Scorpius smoking in the furthest back cabin. Al opens the door and leans in the opening, "Starting the new year the traditional way, then?" Scorpius is one of her childhood friends, one of the few who grew up wandering Diagon and Knockturn alley, and while they aren't as close as they once were --as close as young Al insisted they be, stubborn as hell-- the two are certainly still friends.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alice Longbottom Character Portrait: James Sirius Potter Character Portrait: Scorpius Malfoy
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Platform 9 3/4 : Hogwarts Express, September 1st
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    Five years he repeated in same routine with slight variations, although always present was the distraught expressions of his parents. Ginny and Harry Potter earned their delicate wrinkles through the tradition of rushing to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, and even as a seventh year James woke from his disturbed slumber hours before his family - pondering whether or not to ditch them regardless of the howler he'd be guaranteed to receive as consequence. Always he decided against it, later to regret it whilst listening to his mother's worrying disguised as a Quidditch lecture.

    "Do a barrel roll and punt a bludger into the snitch, if it breaks into a hundred tiny pieces there's no way for them to win - got it." Bastardizing her advice he slips from her constricting hold on his wrist and enchants her with a quick peck on the forehead - mothers love that kind of thing - succeeding to grab a hold of his luggage. "Now remember to behave or I'll ground you forevermore, but more so than that remember that I love you and will write diligently throughout the year. Now, off with ye'!" James rambled to the unamused audience, volume of his voice rising with every reverse footfall that put more distance between him and his family until he could finally steady himself on the train's railing. "Farewell, my beautiful family! I'll think of you fondly!" Singing a light lament to them he disappeared into one of the rear cars, breathing the familiar atmosphere of old wood and freshly baked pastries, staring into the charming light reflected off bits of dust.

    Yet none of this particularly mattered - in fact it was particularly dull the seventh time - and his surroundings slipped from his attention, colors blending in the vortex that is tunnel vision. Guiding his luggage behind him (saved by charms that kept each case bigger on the inside) he crossed through the tiny corridor, corners of his mouth twitching upwards to greet those familiar to him, and those not so familiar, his heart taut with the craving of wanting something more and the subtle hum of woe of knowing this will be his final year studying at Hogwarts. They're to be crushed, the emotions broken by the present, and James continued on towards the back, deceivingly happy syllables of "How are you?" leaving his mouth without an intention of hearing any answers.

    It was like this; asphyxiated was he with the same scenery, for easily did he yearn to fly into new horizons, and he deviated only for a short list of those loved by him. Summer to him became a cruel spell of anxiety decorated with sporadic adventurous, later becoming lustrous memories.

    ( They were precious, but in those months there was family and friends he always saw, and in the first dawn of fall he vanished with crueler joy. )

    Maybe beyond here, where his fingers curled into the sliding door's indent, is where he'll find the sarcastic sorcerer. And it was so, his crooked smile arising when welcomed by air laced with tobacco and infamous chemicals. The aroma was warmth, controlling the weather of his head, always related amorphous white clouds with one person.

    "Is that a new spell?" Impish he interrupted the mantra with his shameless grim, entering the cabin as he normally would, had begun the semester just like this several times already. Step one - find Scorpius, step two - try to contain emotions, step three - fail. Proudly he carried with him simple chaos; he jostled Scoot from his slumber in the process of organizing his luggage, lost stray sheets stained with ink lyrics as they fell from above, and the owl murmured its discontent as the floor was patched by papers sick with jaundice.

    Ignoring the lost pages he fixed his jumper of maroon, and curious James looked to the infamous boy known for the bewilderment he left strangers with and a bloodline considered of debatable value (there were wizards that would scorn a Malfoy and those that would vouch for them, the others expressing various of neutrality), but in the case of James Potter he could fill notebooks with Scorpius Malfoy, his knowledge ranging from the hidden trait of sentimental and the comfort he could achieve when just beside his dear friend. Pondering the array of facts his eyes slowly redirect to the other presence in the train car, a the wiring in his brain short circuiting, embers flickering, ashes piling in his cranium.

    The seconds pile and the corners of his mouth are again contorted into an angular performance formally known as a grin. "I think I should have took my studies in divination with more moxie." The remark casually rolls off his tongue, the pupils that lingered on the blond's momentarily fixated on the infamous scoundrel known as 'Alice Longbottom'. Naturally the charade of nonchalance would persist, and thus logically he collapsed next to Scorpius, legs spread across the isolated room, briefly noting again that it's disappointing that there's not quite enough space to comfortably nap in one of these things. "Considering this recent omen, I can say with confidence that this year will be a fantastic tale of toil and trouble." His facial muscles relaxed enough for his expression to return to a less terrifying state, and pulled by the strings of distraction, he looked back over to his regular cynical companion.

    "So, Clever Boy," James began, nudging his 'best friend forever until the permanent void of damnation inevitably swallowed them whole - and maybe even then'. "tell me, how much did you miss me?" Yes, shameless was right. One could mistake him for a narcissist when he wore that visage of exuberance, but he couldn't resist asking despite the probability of a negative response because he, as one may see, couldn't live too long without Scorpius before becoming absolutely stir crazy - the disheveled hair could vouch for that, no doubt.



Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alice Longbottom Character Portrait: James Sirius Potter Character Portrait: Scorpius Malfoy
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When the compartment door opens to reveal Alice Longbottom, Scorpius barely looks up, but James Potter happens to be right behind her, his question much more disruptive than Alice's comment. Scorpius scoffs and bring his cigarette back to his lips, finally looking up at the intruders. He offers the girl a nod instead of looking at his best friend. “Is there any other way but traditional?”

He and Alice weren't really close anymore, but there was a certain bond knowing each other from childhood gave them, so Scorpius liked her company okay. James, however, was both his number one and the most annoying thing to ever wiggle it's way into his life.

He narrows his bright blue eyes as the door clatters shut, luggage bangs on railing, a particular horned owl sounds very displeased at being woken, and then the floor was covered in paper, each sheet making its own noise as it fell to the ground.

Why. Why was James always so noisy.

And why the hell did he find it so endearing?

Scorpius watches James fall into the seat next to him, sprawl out and take up all the room like he was prone to doing...either physically or with his personality. The blonde shook his head, dejectedly, fingers clenching over the results in his hands. Scorpius didn't even want to talk about his Divination scores. Or any of the others, for that fact. The paper in his hand was literally stupidity in a handful of letters. The only reason why he was even allowed to move onto Sixth year was because McGonagall took pity on him and weighted his practical scores over his written ones.

He lets the paper fall to the floor, getting lost somewhere in the myriad of what was likely song lyrics that James had dispensed when he'd entered the room. “I didn't miss you at all, idiot. It's quiet without you around. Clean.” Scorpius Malfoy, among other things, may be a really horrid liar, but that was his own business.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alice Longbottom Character Portrait: Lysander Scamander Character Portrait: James Sirius Potter Character Portrait: Scorpius Malfoy
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Lysander could barely suppress the urge to part his lips and let out what was to most likely be an outstanding yawn, the thought itself prompting him to raise his palms and scrub vigorously at his drooping eyelids. It took every fibre of his being not to simply sink into the crimson cushions that lay beneath him which, at the time, didn't seem unlike a soft, airy cloud. Be as it may, the day itself was still young and stillness of the steam-powered vehicle, coupled with its deafening hoots and screeches, signified that it was not even yet eleven o'clock- the assigned time in which the train begins to make its way to Hogwarts.

The young wizard had no one else to blame but himself for his current state of drowsiness and it wasn't uncommon for him to be in such a state; he's always up during all hours of the night doing something or other that kept him from resting. During this particular instance, he had stumbled upon his grandfather's, Xenophilius Lovegood, recordings of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. There wasn't much to read, per say, but there was much to analyse about the creature. The elusive magical creature most likely hailed from Sweden , but was never found (even by his mother, who searched the globe for the improbable creature for years.)

Lysander and Lorcan had been fortunate enough to snag an empty compartment while others were distracted by fellow friends and classmates they had not seen for quite a time. Lysander knew how difficult it could be to find a compartment that was either not completely full or would, at the very least, accept you once the students were in their respective places and the train was off and moving. The twins made that mistake second year; they had a rather unpleasant ride with a domineering fourth year Slytherin and two very snippy Ravenclaws, one of which sweated profusely. By their sixth year, well, they valued the peace that came with picking one's own space.

Despite his letharigic state of being, there was a familiar buzz of excitement that coursed through the young wizard's veins. It happened every time that he found himself back in the Hogwarts Express once again, the very sight of the sleek ebony and crimson vehicle left him breathless and exhilorated. Even at the moment Lysander was breathing in the earthy scent of the train's interior like he couldn't get enough of it and the compartments, to which some may argue are constricting and stifling, were welcoming, warm, and cozy. It was his favorite place to be. Well, second favorite to Hogwarts, of course. “I’m off to find Briggs.” Lorcan grinned that signature boyish grin of his, the one that always made Lysander want to smile back at him, no matter what mood he was in. Briggs was Lorcan’s fellow Gryffindor and good friend to boot. Lysander liked Briggs- he was a rather plump fellow and smelled of sugar plums and pumpkin spice, but he was kind and accommodating. “I’ll be back before you can say Dashing Dugbogs. Make sure Tolstoy stays out of trouble!”

Tolstoy was, if anything, an unattractive creature; he was an ugly shade of arboraceous brown, his back legs were too short for his large, lumpy body, and his eyes were bulging and cockeyed. Yet, his twin had to have found him oddly charming, for he was the one that picked out the unfortunate toad during their visit at The Magical Menagerie when they were only eleven. Lysander had to admit, Tolstoy grew on him as well throughout his years with his brother.

Tolstoy sat adjacent to Lysander, staring at him expectantly with his crooked eyes and croaking meekly. “He may cause quite some trouble, Lorcan.” He replied as earnestly as he could. It had Lorcan chuckling and patting his twin’s shoulder before vanishing.

As Lysander now found himself alone, he raked a hand through his blonde curls and pulled out a book. He might as well do some reading. He’d have a quick catnap later on the way to Hogwarts and feel rested by the time they got there.