SMITH, Elderflower

NAME:
ELDERFLOWER SMITH
"Yeah, so my mother and father named me after a goddamned flower. Just call me Elle."

AGE:
SEVENTEEN
" And going on nineteen if it weren't for my size."

YEAR:
SEVENTH
"Thank the wizard Lord Almighty, how long did it take to finally get here?"

BLOOD:
HALF
"I don't give a crap if you're a pure blood and I'm a half blood, I can still beat your arse at any hexes and jinxes if I wished."

HOUSE:
GRYFFINDOR
"Yeah, so I kinda like to be a hero, so sue me"

PATRONUS:
EAGLE
"I'd like to say it's because I have a good eye, but really I think it's because I have a free spirit."

WAND:
ELDERFLOWER PETALS AND VANILLA
"Really, are you kidding me? Because it wasn't enough to be named after the damn flower."

QUIDDITCH POSITION:
PROTESTER
"Please, me and quidditch is like marmite and nutella."

BIOGRAPHY:
Elderflower Smith was born and bred in London, in one of the richest and well known places around the world: Park Lane. Her parents owned a luxurious house right in the middle, next to the designer boutique and over priced and over booked restaurant, La Belci Dulce. Her mother was a muggle and her father a wizard. She was around the age of three when she noticed that her father sometimes didn't have to get up from where he sat to pick up the remote control. By five, he would be making dinner, burn it and it would miraculously be on her plate an hour later, steaming hot and perfectly cooked, and she could see no signs that it had come out of a box. By nine she got enough courage to venture into her parents room, looking around in her father's side of the big, walk in closet.

"A key turned in the front door and I could hear my father's footsteps, his labored breath. He had let me in a secret when i was eight: everyday he ran home from work. Be it in his work clothes or jogging clothes, he said it made all the stress of a days work go away. I always tried to run a mile everyday after he told me that. He never did tell me where he worked. I could sense, rather than hear him coming up the stairs; he had always been a little light on his feet. My father was a young man, him and my mother having been only 18 when i was born; making them both 27 by this point.

I heard him sigh when he got into the room, and I thanked my lucky stars that i had managed to get everything in order before i delved into his closet. looking around him and mother's room, I had found nothing. Absolutely nothing. there was nothing to suggest that my father was a...well, what is a nine year old supposed to think? I thought my father was a superhero and i was trying to find his cape and secret identity eye-thing. What? Don't look at me like that, to this day I still don't know what the heck that eye thing is bloody called. Anyways, normally my father would come upstairs, dump his stuff then come and try to find me; but oh no. no, no, no. This was the day he chose to change his clothes first. I shuffled to the end of the closet, and crouched down waiting for him to pick a pair of pants and go. It could have been minutes, it could of been hours. but finally, he chose some grey slacks, and was walking back out again, when i stupidly decided to stand up from my crouched position. Forgetting entirely that the only reason I had crouched down was because there was a shelf above my head. Well, I seemed to remember when it collided with my head and got unhinged.

Look, i never said i was graceful, kay? Well, the noise stopped my father short, but what stopped me short was a shoe-box falling off the damned shelf...along with the shelf itself. A stick. that's what got my attention, a freakin' twig. It had fallen out of the shoe box, ugly baby blue in colour, the colour of innocence, and deceit. By this time, my father had totally forgotten that he needed to change from his work clothes. There was a funny expression on his face, kind of like fear mixed with relief mixed with worrisomeness mixed with anxiety. I never did figure out how his head didn't explode with all the sudden pressure. "What's this?" I remember asking, picking up the twig-like thing. "It's a twig...just something form the park." my father replied. Okay, so I was nine years old and I thought I knew everything, bear that in mind. "Dad, don't baby me. What is it?" Although, thinking about it, I probably looked and sounded like a baby, I've never been that tall, and my voice hadn't exactly deepened much. My dad seemed to take a large breath, and I braced myself for the worst, a torture stick...a phone...a spy's phone...something to inflict pain with because he was working in mi6. Yeah, fat chance. What I got was a whole lot different, I mean seriously, I shouldn't even have bothered to brace myself. "It's a wand, Elderflower."”

PERSONALITY:
"I like to think I'm a nice person, I mean, I've never intentionally hurt someone, and if I've hexed you, it's only because you made me do it. Everyone knows I have kind of a competitive streak, and plus, that whole overreaction thing. Just ask my best friend, Cam, he knows all about the overreaction thing, mainly because he's such an actor himself. Now where was I? Oh yeah. Me.

But really? I'm a nice girl. I like almost everyone and the only people who really bug me are a couple of the jerks and a few hot head Slytherins. Who really, just need to cool and sit down long enough to see that there is no fight with their names on it. Umm, I like jewelery: yeah, not so much to wear it, but as a welcome back to Hogwarts gift for everyone else. They seem to like the stuff they sell in Selfridges jewelery department so what the hey."

APPEARANCE:
ELISHA CUTHBERT!
"Too be brutally honest, I like wearing dresses, accept, I kinda went of them for a while, for the main reason of Cam hanging me by my toes in our Common Room 4th year, giving everyone a great few of my underwear. Yeah. Safe to say I wore jeans and long trousseurs to bed for at least 2 months afterwards. I like shorts, tank tops...anything that's allows air really. But I'm not sporty. Don't ever assume I'm sporty."