Brady, Eoin - Third Year

[Eoin Brady]

Accepted! Welcome to Hogwarts: The New Ages

Full Character Name: Eoin Philip Brady
D.o.B./Age: 13 January 2015/12
Place of Residency: Londonderry, Northern Ireland, UK
Blood Status: Muggle-born


History:

Parent(s): Conaill Willem Brady (age: 52); Eilis McMahon (age: 50)
Sibling(s): Conaire James Brady (age: 19. Muggle, Oxford University-Merton College History and Modern Languages Candidate), Ewan Liam Brady (age: 16. Muggle, Garvagh High School, Garvagh, UK), Alan Brian Brady (age: 15. Wizard, Gryffindor House, Hogwarts)
Other(s): Caitlin O'Brien (age: 19. Muggle, Cambridge University-Peterhouse Arabic and Persian Studies Candidate) - Conaire's Girlfriend
Economic Status: Middle-Class (beneficiaries of the computer technology boom)

{and at least 3 Good Sized Paragraphs}

Eoin's life begins like most ordinary boys' lives do: in a hospital. However, unlike most ordinary boys' beginnings, Eoin's life began very quietly. His mum did not scream as she conceived him; his pop did not grimace at the bone-crushing strength of his wife's grip, because his wife did not grip his hand as if she were a giantess giving a hearty handshake. Also, unlike most ordinary boys, Eoin (pr. Owen) was born in the presence of his brothers (then aged 9, 6 and 5), and as his birth had interrupted a rather important sleep-over, he was brought into the world in the additional presence of a girl-friend of his oldest brother, Conaire (pr. Conor), called Caitlin (pr. like it looks), who promptly excused herself for lack of air and fainted in the corridor, which would be expected of an ordinary girl of 9. Since that moment, Caitlin appears to have been weaned off the idea of ever having children. But aside from this minor trauma, it was as silent a night as when the little baby of Bethlehem was born (minus the farm animals and the putrid shepherds).

Eoin's pop was a masterful storyteller and he frequently told magnificent bedtime stories to his sons, which Conaire eventually grew out of and, on the night of his sudden maturation, sat up in bed, precisely admitted to his pop, "This is all a load of bollocks," got out of bed and went down to the kitchen to suture his wounds in a slice (or two) of his mum's famous rum cake. Of course, Conaire didn't really believe in what he had said, he was just a boy of 11 with a grand imagination. What he really meant for that evening was to put meaning to the phrase "getting piss-drunk", and as the family discovered in the morning, he succeeded. In all, the Brady's knew that Conaire was going to be a handful, and perhaps it was their prayers that graced them with a very docile child in Eoin. His closest brother, Alan, was also his best mate in their growing years, and Alan's jokes and little farsical games taught Eoin what it meant to be joyful every day.

Eoin experienced a small brush with trauma the day Conaire decided to move out to College. Being only 8 years old at that time, he'd managed to master the very distressing task of refusing to cry on his first day of grammar school, particularly when his mum waved goodbye and drove off down the road. Around him, the world went to shambles with some little girls falling prostrate on the ground, faces red as the fires of Hell, making an equally hellish noise that only marginally sounded like a prolonged version of the word "Mummy". As soon as Eoin knew he could decipher this mumbo-jumbo, he knew that languages were going to be his life passion. Rather than succumbing to their apocolyptic state, he merely walked over to the picnic table, calmly pulled himself into a sitting position and promptly took out his juice box, because all this crying had made him horribly thirsty. He was ever the pragmatist. Therefore, Conaire's parting was met with a similar mindset, and it was only afterward, when he saw Alan getting upset, that Eoin allowed himself three tears. One down each cheek, and one for good luck down his nose. It was, actually, a relief to have sobbed so much. Eoin believed he knew exactly how those little girls had felt all those years ago. How ordinary! How drole!

No one had had an issue with Alan "coming out of the broom closet" a year and a half before. Eoin's pop congratulated his son for finally finding his own faerie tale; Eoin's mum was delighted to introduce her son to their "strange" aunt (she talked to herself often) who was "quite like him now". When Eoin discovered his own magical abilities, the celebration was no less genuine. There were no more "strange" aunts or uncles to be introduced to, so mum felt somewhat indisposed, and pop had already been very congratulatory of Eoin for his minimal grammar school achievements (gold medal for the French language poetry recitation, gold medal (twice) for the Spanish language rhetoric debate, silver and gold medals for crafting an original story in a foreign language (Portuguese and Italian, respectively), and bronze medal for presenting the most coherent British Sign Language speech in his grammar school). So it seemed necessary to be more subdued in his congratulations with Eoin's "coming out". These didn't phase the young boy. It was when Alan came home from school and shared stories of things that had happened in the mystical, magical castle in the middle of the Scottish highlands that Eoin looked forward to most. They would stay up into the early hours of the morning laughing, listening and sharing stories of their two interconnected worlds. Alan cultivated in Eoin a deep desire to emerge into the world of magic as a masterful wizard.

And, receiving his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts was frankly the beginning of another grand adventure....

Personality Description: {at least 2 good sized paragraphs}

During his early years of childhood, Eoin enjoyed crafting weapons from broken tree branches. These were items he and Alan could use for play-time, but the true fun of it was putting the work into sharpening their dragonslaying swords, their wicked witch destroying knives and their vampire vanquishing wooden stakes. Being a persistent boy, Eoin had every vampire vanquishing stake blessed by their Anglican priest and vicar. Though not very keen on attending church himself, Eoin would go to appease his parents, who were rather devout, but he rarely set foot into the church without being verbally invited first. It was, after all, one thing to be a vampire vanquisher outside in the real world; it was entirely another when the oppressive forces of winged babies and sword-wielding winged holy-men glared down at him, fiercely, from the ceilings. He was quite okay with being an agent of darkness (and bats, as it were), an immortal "demon" creature who served only himself, when his adversaries were illogical faeries who fiercely served a man (maybe) they'd never seen or tried to draw pictures of. Heck, they barely managed to agree on what to call him (God, Yahweh, Elohim, Allah, Hey-You!)

His parents did have to force him into the wretched Hell called Sunday School. It was here that Eoin became convinced that demons were made, not born, because the teachers who tried to be blithe in tone while telling some of the most ridiculous pieces of government propoganda Eoin had ever heard never appeared pleased with themselves or their students, and they never made the attempt to smile, ever. Their stories, however, thrilled him. A midget Jew took a slingshot and killed a giant in one throw! A father heard voices in his head and took his son to be murdered, only to find a stray lamb wandering around, which he took for a miracle and slaughtered instead of his son! A pair of brothers working side-by-side, among whom one was so jealous that he took his scythe and slashed his brother to pieces. Then, when this God guy came round to collect their reapings, he could hear the voice of the dead brother crying up from the ground! Eoin, guiltily, re-enacted a few of these stories out in the real world, though he would never admit to it to anyone.

And there were some lessons he drew from the stories. He enjoyed the (albeit repetitive) biography of that man called Jesus who was so skillful a wizard that he could touch a sick or suffering person and instantly heal them! This sort of kind heroicism motivated Eoin to desire to live the same. So when the Republican government planted car bombs along the border of his country, Eoin was among the first children to go down and comfort the kids of victims there. He would help take them away from their real pain by altering these biographical stories about Jesus so that not only did they make sense but they were full of magic and in a world entirely magical as well!

Physical Description:
Height: 4'11"
Weight/Build: Skinny
Skin Tone: Caucasian
Hair Color and Style: Brown, short
Eye Color: Light Blue

{and at least 1 good sized paragraph}

Quite unlike Conaire and (flaky) Ewan, Eoin remained skinny through his growing years. He was a notably chubby baby, but his baby fat seemed to remain on him during his very early years, and when his frame began to stretch, the baby fat fell into places that had a fat deficit. So, he ended up looking rather normal for his age. Ewan, arguably the flakiest of their brothers, managed to bulk up in his early teen years, and he looked quite like a man well before Conaire did, so Eoin had the chance to guess at which body type he would adopt. He was secretly hopeful it would be Ewan's, but being practical, he was resigned to the idea that he'd be skinny for the majority of his days. He made up for it in other ways, like emphasizing the unique color combination of his eyes (grey and dark blue, mixed together to make a light, almost Pacific blue). All the Brady boys kept their hair short, and all but Conaire had dark brown (if not black (Ewan's)) hair. Alan's was becoming auburn with age, and Conaire's ordinarily blond head was beginning to darken somewhat. Eoin's stayed pretty much the same color, and he was okay with that. Some changes were unnecessary in his book.

Likes: {at least List 3}

• Jokes
  
• Rewards
  
• Competition
  

Dislikes: {at least List 3}

• Snobbery
  
• Muggle-bashing
  
• Self-proclaimed Heroes
  

Special Talents: {at least 1 good sized paragraph. Doesn't have to be magical talent}

Eoin's vivid imagination, a trait he shared with his oldest brother, afforded him the chance to be a sooth-sayer. Some years after his birth, a destructive political group calling themselves the "Real IRA" re-emerged in the counties of Tyrone and Monaghan (both to the south of Eoin's home city of Londonderry). Their methods of merging their nation and Eoin's included shedding massive quantities of blood along the border. When Eoin was old enough to understand the impracticality, immorality and idiocy of this method, he began insisting on visiting orphanages in the hardest hit areas so that he could be a story teller to the orphans living in them. For hours each weekend, Eoin and his audiences could escape the frightening realities they lived in and venture off into worlds of magic and beauty and evil powers, yes, but one's they could defeat with the deepest magic of all: love.

RP Example: {MUST be written in 3rd person past tense. At least 2 good sized paragraphs}

It was worse than Christmas, this night. First, it was the last night of the school year, and that meant that tomorrow, Eoin would have to restock his store of explanations why he had his nose stuck in a book rather than being out playing with the other kids. He couldn't bring himself to play with them for a few reasons, but they all boiled down to the terrible truth: he had no respect for his compatriots. They were the impractical lot who had thrown themselves all over the ground on their very first day of school, screaming and thrashing as if it would bring their parents back to them. Second, it was ridiculously hot! Even with his bedroom window open, Eoin couldn't bear to have any stitch of clothing or bedsheet on him. It had to be upwards of 30 C, even at a quarter to midnight! Sure, it was better than the daytime, when it was near 40 C, but not much. 10 degrees less was a large numerical difference, but it all felt the same. And third, because tomorrow, Alan would be home. Tomorrow, they would climb into the old Volkswagen Cooper and chug across Northern Ireland to Belfast/Larne where, hopefully, Alan's ferry would be approaching them from Glasgow. It wasn't that Alan was coming home that made the night unbearable, it was the hightened state of anticipation that meant Eoin could not sleep.

When last Alan had written to him, he'd spoken of this magnificent thing called Kwid-itch. It was a sport competition played on brooms above an ovular football pitch. There were hoops like bubble-blowers or the eyes of sewing needles that a keeper guarded from these things called chasers who attempted to toss a thingy called a Quoi-full past the keeper through one of the hoops. That was how they scored, apparently. The most important of the players was someone called a sicker, and the sicker was sicked after a thing called a snitch. This snitch could fly, and it was golden, and apparently it was very difficult to see. Eoin couldn't imagine this in his head, the letter had been so rich with details, but the idea of a golden ball flying in the air, trying to avoid being caught tickled his imagination. I'll catch it if no one else can, he whispered into the shadows. I'll be the hero if no one else is fit for the task. After all, how hard could that be? It's GOLDEN! Gold can't possibly camoflage with the colours of the sky... he chuckled, rolling over and making a vain attempt at rest.

How You Found Us (Optional):

• Caitlin O'Brien - Peterhouse, Arabic and Persian Studies Curriculum and Faculty of Asian and Middle Eastern Studies
  
• Ewan Liam Brady - Garvagh High School (Wikipedia page)
  
• Conaire James Brady - Merton College: Faculty of History and Modern Languages