Post by Bridget Callighan on Nov 19, 2014 0:00:16 GMT -8
Name: Bridget Callighan
Age & Birthday: 27 / March 16th, 1975
Bloodline: Half- Blood
Personality: Bridget is very loud, outspoken, energetic, and friendly. She is known for her sarcasm and her habit of exaggerating things. She is very independent and headstrong and loves doing things her way. She has a fiery temper when in engaged, only matched by her loyalty and concern for her friends. She isn’t very organized and loves to do things at the last minute, but she always gets things done and is known as dependable for that reason. She loves to smile and make others smile and tends to try to be as entertaining as possible in classes. Bridget can also be a little biased towards people depending on how they act and what she sees of them though she tries really hard not to be.
Height: 5’6
Hair: Red
Eyes: Green
General Appearance: Bridget loves to dress in comfortable clothes and rarely chooses to dress in anything too flashy or too feminine. On a normal day, she prefers jeans and a tee shirt, but since she is teaching a plain set of work robes or a pants suit is usually what you find her in. On the quidditch field you will always find her in one of her old warm up uniforms from her days on the Irish qudditch team. Above all it is a rare opportunity for her to dress up. She hates dresses and skirts and low cut tops, anything too girly. That’s why she normally wears blues, greens, oranges, yellows, and reds. She almost always has a smile on her face and her hair pulled back in a ponytail.
Wand: Holly, 10 ½ inches, hippogriff feather and centaur’s tear
Pet: an owl named Gwen
Worst Class(es) were: Transfiguration, Divination, Astronomy, History of Magic, Arithmacy,
Best Class(es) were: Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, Charms, Flying, Defense against the Dark Arts, Herbology
Special Ability: -
Special Items: Quiddditch uniform from her days on the Irish Quidditch team, original firebolt model, firebolt mach 2 (the latest of the firebolt models)
Special Postion: -
Class Teaching: Flying and potions
Marital Status: Single
Children: -
History: Born in Ireland to a wizarding da, Bryce Callighan, and a muggle for a mum, Mary Callighan, Bridget was always known for her active behavior. Her grandmum was always laughing from the minute she was born because she could wiggle her way out of almost any grip and refused to stay still for more than five minutes. Grant you Bridget wasn’t fussy. She usually was smiling and gurgling rather than crying, but she loved to move around. She was healthy from the minute she was born and the only thing her parents had trouble with besides her constant movement was Bridget’s strange opposition to sleep and understandably her hate of waking up from her naps.
In the early years Bridget was always her da’s little girl, perhaps because of complications with her birth, and the fact that it was not safe for Mrs. Callighan to have another child. From the first day he found a quidditch uniform in a baby size and a mobile for her crib that were spelled to fly around a quidditch pitch and play games before her eyes. While her da always explained the game to her mum, Mary never really seemed to approve of the game and managed to role her eyes whenever Mr. Callighan took his young baby daughter out to a professional quidditch game or a practice. Bridget’s eyes always seemed brighter around the pitch and it was almost uncanny how at the young age she was always paying such careful attention to the events and movements of the game, almost as if she was studying them.
The love of movement and quiddich, much to her mother’s disapproval, never passed through her system as Mary once predicted. From the earliest that she could, in the muggle world, Bridget signed up for a girl’s football team and became the starting striker. Her skill in the muggle sport was only matched by her skill on a broom. Her father, of course, had taught her early how to ride and he was already sneaking off with her to protected areas to play catch with her using a small quaffle, eventually a regular sized one, having her keep, and hitting bludgers back and forth. Bridget however, much preferred throwing the quaffle to anything else.
While her father was molding Bridget into the perfect quidditch player, her mother was always trying to get her to act like a perfect lady. Bridget was signed up for ballet, and got kicked out two days later. At school she got good grades, but she always did better in sports and fights than she did in arts and making friends with the other girls. Much to her mother’s dismay, Bridget was always one of the guys and never really showed much interest in bows and frills. Needless to say that this continued until she got her letter from Hogwarts and was sent off with a pat on the back and a big smile from her father and a worried, overprotected, stern warning from her mother.
Bridget quickly found her niche in Hogwarts with the quidditch team from Gryffindor, her own house, and by her second year was hanging out with them as their newest chaser. She was the young protégé of both Fred and George Weasly before their departure from the school, and afterwards became their replacement using every kind of prank you could think of, including abducting Mrs. Norris and flushing her down Moaning Myrtle’s toilet, fireworks in the teacher’s lounge, and releasing a group of pixies during graduation. While she became on of Filtch’s least favorite students, Bridget had her mind straight when it came to school. She got high scores in a good amount of her classes and those she didn’t get a good score in, she did rather decently. Her best class by far was flying skills, followed by potions, but nothing really jumped out for her in the working world, that is until she was recruited in her seventh year by the Irish quidditch team.
For quite sometime she played for the team, becoming close friends with most of them, especially the seeker, Casey Winslow. After he left the team to do one thing or another to be closer to his family, they got out of touch, it was hard to keep in touch with anyone outside the team really. She stayed on until the team fell into a bit of disrepair due to the rising popularity of the wizarding version of football. She left the team despite the fact that she didn’t have anything to do outside of it and eventually, thanks to the ‘wonderful’ insight and training of the ministry has been assigned to a teaching position in potions at Hogwarts. She doesn’t mind so much because Bridget always thought teaching would be a bit of fun and potions was her best subject by far, but she’s overwhelmed with all the lesson plans, as well as the fact that she needs to be a responsible disciplinarian for the first time in her life. For once her mother approves and her father disapproves, but that’s beyond the point.
Role-play Sample: (Morgana from New Time)
There it was: Azkaban wizarding prison, home to some of the most dangerous criminals of the magical world. That is precisely why the death eater party was there at the moment: to revive and rescue the old followers who had so loyally taken the fall for their lord after the last great battle that had taken place. Now, their loyalty was to be rewarded with forgiveness, safety, and freedom from the cold soulless walls of the prison cells where some of them had been since the first rising of the death eater. They had all been waiting for a breath of free air. They waited for air without the clammy cold of the dank damp prison cells and the hard stone walls and floors, a life without cold metal bars on their windows and hungry demetors sucking from them every defense they could put up against mental destruction once their physical strength had been taken by the foul desolate conditions.
No, tonight it was different. Tonight, they would gain their dream of freedom thanks to the new line of death eaters on the hill, loyal to Lord and family, here to break them all from their prison cell covered by the darkened blanket of the midnight sky.
The Demetors had departed due to their deal with the Dark Lord, heading to their own dark assignments, then to the feast of the muggle world as a reward for their pains on behalf of the Dark Lord’s command’s being so quickly and carefully fulfilled. One thing was for sure, such loyalty was not easy to come by, nor was it so enthusiastic to render service. The Demetor’s were hungry and if it meant serving the Darkness they would. It was merely who could offer their soulless bodies more to feast on, more bodies to kiss and keep forever. The Dark Lord out bid the ministry and in so doing had perfectly arranged tonight’s operations. Tonight their Lord’s generosity had purchased an open unarmed gait and no resistance to an outbreak of his followers, weakened and near death after so many years of waiting in the depths of Azkaban for their great triumphs on behalf of the dark lord.
As the last of the tall ghostly skeleton figures left, their shrouds trailing despair and sadness filled off into the distance Morgana smiled from beneath her intricately designed skeleton mask. Her entrancing features were hidden completely, but her grey green eyes could be seen sparkling with excitement and adrenaline as she followed their leader, Draco Malfoy, down the side of their hidden ledge to the open door of the prison, a snake like trail of dark servants behind them, all waiting to liberate their loyal breatheran, at least those who proved still to be alive after their purgatory in the ill favored prison.
There was mostly little sound on the way into the building, a slight whisper or whimper here and their, mostly from Petigrew, who immediately received a sharp kick in the chest from the pointed end of Morgana’s black leather book heel. She smirked as the man crumpled in pain to sink into a puddle on the ground of a Prison. ‘The sniveling rat deserved it if anything,’ she assured herself before walking behind Draco further into the building unlocking cell after cell to find only bodies as the rest of the group spread like the plague around the large blocks of cells.
Morgana followed behind Draco looking round and round the cold dark stone walls, feeling the despair and torture eeking from them like a cancerous disease. She could not see her beloved foster parent here. Not for as long as they had stayed. Not without a scar at least. Morgana would just have to hope that they were alright to some point at least. After ally, she could not help but feel for them above all else. They had given her everything she ever needed: a home, training, morals, encouragement…perfect foster parents who treated her as one of their own. Their only own for that matter as they had no other children.
As she and the leader of the swarm of servants neared the darkest, most cramped as least human of the prison cells she knew it was there where Lucius Malfoy was kept. Where else would they keep the man who killed in the ministry itself? A hated man who had managed to deceive all of the wizarding world with shows of wealth and power and thus covered his darkest and most dangerous secret. Morgana knew that who she was searching for would be close by to Lucius if they did indeed still lived, the hope was not to be kept for to long, with all the dead bodies she had bared witness to since their entry she had a cold detached fear in her heart of finding Bellatrix and Rudolphus LeStrange dead along side their brother - in – law, no matter how strong they were when they entered, after this time…they could be done for, despite how strong she had always perceived them as. After all, even if they physically survived the conditions, no one could survive the dementors.
Morgana took a deep breath as she opened another cold iron door, left un locked by the ghastly evil wardens of the jail. She could see two bodies, one on top of the other lying in the middle of the cold grey stone floor. A woman, with matted black hair growing just past her back, lying over a man, with open green eyes and long yellowed nails. Their faces were pale and unwell, if not the pallor of corpses. Their bodies, mangled and starved to the bare frames of skin hung skeletons lie broken on the dirt and mud covered cell floor. A head lifted, the woman’s head, and a pair of dulled lifeless grey eyes looked into Morgana’s tiredly, pleadingly. A heart caught in the younger woman’s throat as she ignored the overwhelming smells and grim on the prison floor to kneel besides her foster mother and prop her against her own shoulder, holding the broken woman as gently as she could. The woman’s darkened eyes, matted dirt filled hair, and grime colored complexion made her almost unrecognizable as the graceful elegant woman who had taken her in after her parents had been killed defending the Dark Lord. Bellatrix moaned in recognition as Morgana brought out her wand and raised her mask to start the healing process. She laid her aunt down gently and slowly helped her to finish a vial of potion or two to help with her pain and begin revival. Only after Bellatrix was taken care of did Morgana dare move to the body in the middle of the floor. The dark haired man was a shadow of the great Rudolphus LeStrange. His hair was greased and longer than she had ever seen it, he almost had a full beard as compared to the clean cut look of the man before his years in jail. Morgana swallowed down tears of anger as she propped her foster father’s head on her lap and checked for signs of life…
He was dead.
There was not a single beat or breath, and by the putrid stink of his body, he had been dead, soulless, for sometime now. Morgana could feel her hair turning bright red to match her wrath bellow the dark hood of her long cloak. Her tresses only darkened when hot salt tears raged down her cheeks as she clung to her uncle’s corpse crying in silent hatred and sadness. They would pay. They would all pay and her uncle would not be forgotten. Never….Alastor Moody would be I her hands when the dementor’s were summoned to give him a kiss in her uncle’s name. She would beg it of her Lord and Master.
A cough startled Morgana from her vengeful thoughts and she was quickly reminded of her duty to life. Morgana turned in the grime towards her aunt and held her as her coughing eased and her breathing resumed with more ease than before, her eyes brighter, still tortured and maddened with crazed delirium and anger at the death of her husband. The woman’s eyes locked with Morgana’s and she forced a sad smile onto her face as her foster mother’s hand reached up to brush her pale tear stained cheek. “Aunt..It’s me…Morgana. I’m here. It’s going to be alright. We’ve returned for you. I’ve come to take you out of here. You’re safe now. You’re with me.” Morgana stammered and cooed gently as she coaxed her once proud and elegant parent into the hall, holding her up so they could reach the sweet, untainted airs of freedom.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Draco helping his father and she looked back sadly for one minute at the closest thing to a father she had left lying dead on the ground. Another set of hot tears came to her eyes and this time she could not even angrily brush them away. She instead could only stare holding her aunt carefully. Morgana shook her head, angered by her weakness. She had survived the death of a parent once…she could do it again. Right now she had to save her remaining family member. With that in mind, Morgana slightly levitated her charge to relieve some of the weight and carried her, behind Lucius into the open night sky.
Other characters include:
Hogwarts the First Battle- Frank Longbottom, Tamora Bradley
Hogwarts- Serena Riley, Fleur Delacour
Last Battle- Serena Riley, Genevieve Aurelle
New Time- Serena Riley, Morgana Calloway
Era of the Marauders- Bellatrix Black
Password 1: N3TSP34K
Password 2: Expect
Password 3: Justice
Accepted!
Age & Birthday: 27 / March 16th, 1975
Bloodline: Half- Blood
Personality: Bridget is very loud, outspoken, energetic, and friendly. She is known for her sarcasm and her habit of exaggerating things. She is very independent and headstrong and loves doing things her way. She has a fiery temper when in engaged, only matched by her loyalty and concern for her friends. She isn’t very organized and loves to do things at the last minute, but she always gets things done and is known as dependable for that reason. She loves to smile and make others smile and tends to try to be as entertaining as possible in classes. Bridget can also be a little biased towards people depending on how they act and what she sees of them though she tries really hard not to be.
Height: 5’6
Hair: Red
Eyes: Green
General Appearance: Bridget loves to dress in comfortable clothes and rarely chooses to dress in anything too flashy or too feminine. On a normal day, she prefers jeans and a tee shirt, but since she is teaching a plain set of work robes or a pants suit is usually what you find her in. On the quidditch field you will always find her in one of her old warm up uniforms from her days on the Irish qudditch team. Above all it is a rare opportunity for her to dress up. She hates dresses and skirts and low cut tops, anything too girly. That’s why she normally wears blues, greens, oranges, yellows, and reds. She almost always has a smile on her face and her hair pulled back in a ponytail.
Wand: Holly, 10 ½ inches, hippogriff feather and centaur’s tear
Pet: an owl named Gwen
Worst Class(es) were: Transfiguration, Divination, Astronomy, History of Magic, Arithmacy,
Best Class(es) were: Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, Charms, Flying, Defense against the Dark Arts, Herbology
Special Ability: -
Special Items: Quiddditch uniform from her days on the Irish Quidditch team, original firebolt model, firebolt mach 2 (the latest of the firebolt models)
Special Postion: -
Class Teaching: Flying and potions
Marital Status: Single
Children: -
History: Born in Ireland to a wizarding da, Bryce Callighan, and a muggle for a mum, Mary Callighan, Bridget was always known for her active behavior. Her grandmum was always laughing from the minute she was born because she could wiggle her way out of almost any grip and refused to stay still for more than five minutes. Grant you Bridget wasn’t fussy. She usually was smiling and gurgling rather than crying, but she loved to move around. She was healthy from the minute she was born and the only thing her parents had trouble with besides her constant movement was Bridget’s strange opposition to sleep and understandably her hate of waking up from her naps.
In the early years Bridget was always her da’s little girl, perhaps because of complications with her birth, and the fact that it was not safe for Mrs. Callighan to have another child. From the first day he found a quidditch uniform in a baby size and a mobile for her crib that were spelled to fly around a quidditch pitch and play games before her eyes. While her da always explained the game to her mum, Mary never really seemed to approve of the game and managed to role her eyes whenever Mr. Callighan took his young baby daughter out to a professional quidditch game or a practice. Bridget’s eyes always seemed brighter around the pitch and it was almost uncanny how at the young age she was always paying such careful attention to the events and movements of the game, almost as if she was studying them.
The love of movement and quiddich, much to her mother’s disapproval, never passed through her system as Mary once predicted. From the earliest that she could, in the muggle world, Bridget signed up for a girl’s football team and became the starting striker. Her skill in the muggle sport was only matched by her skill on a broom. Her father, of course, had taught her early how to ride and he was already sneaking off with her to protected areas to play catch with her using a small quaffle, eventually a regular sized one, having her keep, and hitting bludgers back and forth. Bridget however, much preferred throwing the quaffle to anything else.
While her father was molding Bridget into the perfect quidditch player, her mother was always trying to get her to act like a perfect lady. Bridget was signed up for ballet, and got kicked out two days later. At school she got good grades, but she always did better in sports and fights than she did in arts and making friends with the other girls. Much to her mother’s dismay, Bridget was always one of the guys and never really showed much interest in bows and frills. Needless to say that this continued until she got her letter from Hogwarts and was sent off with a pat on the back and a big smile from her father and a worried, overprotected, stern warning from her mother.
Bridget quickly found her niche in Hogwarts with the quidditch team from Gryffindor, her own house, and by her second year was hanging out with them as their newest chaser. She was the young protégé of both Fred and George Weasly before their departure from the school, and afterwards became their replacement using every kind of prank you could think of, including abducting Mrs. Norris and flushing her down Moaning Myrtle’s toilet, fireworks in the teacher’s lounge, and releasing a group of pixies during graduation. While she became on of Filtch’s least favorite students, Bridget had her mind straight when it came to school. She got high scores in a good amount of her classes and those she didn’t get a good score in, she did rather decently. Her best class by far was flying skills, followed by potions, but nothing really jumped out for her in the working world, that is until she was recruited in her seventh year by the Irish quidditch team.
For quite sometime she played for the team, becoming close friends with most of them, especially the seeker, Casey Winslow. After he left the team to do one thing or another to be closer to his family, they got out of touch, it was hard to keep in touch with anyone outside the team really. She stayed on until the team fell into a bit of disrepair due to the rising popularity of the wizarding version of football. She left the team despite the fact that she didn’t have anything to do outside of it and eventually, thanks to the ‘wonderful’ insight and training of the ministry has been assigned to a teaching position in potions at Hogwarts. She doesn’t mind so much because Bridget always thought teaching would be a bit of fun and potions was her best subject by far, but she’s overwhelmed with all the lesson plans, as well as the fact that she needs to be a responsible disciplinarian for the first time in her life. For once her mother approves and her father disapproves, but that’s beyond the point.
Role-play Sample: (Morgana from New Time)
There it was: Azkaban wizarding prison, home to some of the most dangerous criminals of the magical world. That is precisely why the death eater party was there at the moment: to revive and rescue the old followers who had so loyally taken the fall for their lord after the last great battle that had taken place. Now, their loyalty was to be rewarded with forgiveness, safety, and freedom from the cold soulless walls of the prison cells where some of them had been since the first rising of the death eater. They had all been waiting for a breath of free air. They waited for air without the clammy cold of the dank damp prison cells and the hard stone walls and floors, a life without cold metal bars on their windows and hungry demetors sucking from them every defense they could put up against mental destruction once their physical strength had been taken by the foul desolate conditions.
No, tonight it was different. Tonight, they would gain their dream of freedom thanks to the new line of death eaters on the hill, loyal to Lord and family, here to break them all from their prison cell covered by the darkened blanket of the midnight sky.
The Demetors had departed due to their deal with the Dark Lord, heading to their own dark assignments, then to the feast of the muggle world as a reward for their pains on behalf of the Dark Lord’s command’s being so quickly and carefully fulfilled. One thing was for sure, such loyalty was not easy to come by, nor was it so enthusiastic to render service. The Demetor’s were hungry and if it meant serving the Darkness they would. It was merely who could offer their soulless bodies more to feast on, more bodies to kiss and keep forever. The Dark Lord out bid the ministry and in so doing had perfectly arranged tonight’s operations. Tonight their Lord’s generosity had purchased an open unarmed gait and no resistance to an outbreak of his followers, weakened and near death after so many years of waiting in the depths of Azkaban for their great triumphs on behalf of the dark lord.
As the last of the tall ghostly skeleton figures left, their shrouds trailing despair and sadness filled off into the distance Morgana smiled from beneath her intricately designed skeleton mask. Her entrancing features were hidden completely, but her grey green eyes could be seen sparkling with excitement and adrenaline as she followed their leader, Draco Malfoy, down the side of their hidden ledge to the open door of the prison, a snake like trail of dark servants behind them, all waiting to liberate their loyal breatheran, at least those who proved still to be alive after their purgatory in the ill favored prison.
There was mostly little sound on the way into the building, a slight whisper or whimper here and their, mostly from Petigrew, who immediately received a sharp kick in the chest from the pointed end of Morgana’s black leather book heel. She smirked as the man crumpled in pain to sink into a puddle on the ground of a Prison. ‘The sniveling rat deserved it if anything,’ she assured herself before walking behind Draco further into the building unlocking cell after cell to find only bodies as the rest of the group spread like the plague around the large blocks of cells.
Morgana followed behind Draco looking round and round the cold dark stone walls, feeling the despair and torture eeking from them like a cancerous disease. She could not see her beloved foster parent here. Not for as long as they had stayed. Not without a scar at least. Morgana would just have to hope that they were alright to some point at least. After ally, she could not help but feel for them above all else. They had given her everything she ever needed: a home, training, morals, encouragement…perfect foster parents who treated her as one of their own. Their only own for that matter as they had no other children.
As she and the leader of the swarm of servants neared the darkest, most cramped as least human of the prison cells she knew it was there where Lucius Malfoy was kept. Where else would they keep the man who killed in the ministry itself? A hated man who had managed to deceive all of the wizarding world with shows of wealth and power and thus covered his darkest and most dangerous secret. Morgana knew that who she was searching for would be close by to Lucius if they did indeed still lived, the hope was not to be kept for to long, with all the dead bodies she had bared witness to since their entry she had a cold detached fear in her heart of finding Bellatrix and Rudolphus LeStrange dead along side their brother - in – law, no matter how strong they were when they entered, after this time…they could be done for, despite how strong she had always perceived them as. After all, even if they physically survived the conditions, no one could survive the dementors.
Morgana took a deep breath as she opened another cold iron door, left un locked by the ghastly evil wardens of the jail. She could see two bodies, one on top of the other lying in the middle of the cold grey stone floor. A woman, with matted black hair growing just past her back, lying over a man, with open green eyes and long yellowed nails. Their faces were pale and unwell, if not the pallor of corpses. Their bodies, mangled and starved to the bare frames of skin hung skeletons lie broken on the dirt and mud covered cell floor. A head lifted, the woman’s head, and a pair of dulled lifeless grey eyes looked into Morgana’s tiredly, pleadingly. A heart caught in the younger woman’s throat as she ignored the overwhelming smells and grim on the prison floor to kneel besides her foster mother and prop her against her own shoulder, holding the broken woman as gently as she could. The woman’s darkened eyes, matted dirt filled hair, and grime colored complexion made her almost unrecognizable as the graceful elegant woman who had taken her in after her parents had been killed defending the Dark Lord. Bellatrix moaned in recognition as Morgana brought out her wand and raised her mask to start the healing process. She laid her aunt down gently and slowly helped her to finish a vial of potion or two to help with her pain and begin revival. Only after Bellatrix was taken care of did Morgana dare move to the body in the middle of the floor. The dark haired man was a shadow of the great Rudolphus LeStrange. His hair was greased and longer than she had ever seen it, he almost had a full beard as compared to the clean cut look of the man before his years in jail. Morgana swallowed down tears of anger as she propped her foster father’s head on her lap and checked for signs of life…
He was dead.
There was not a single beat or breath, and by the putrid stink of his body, he had been dead, soulless, for sometime now. Morgana could feel her hair turning bright red to match her wrath bellow the dark hood of her long cloak. Her tresses only darkened when hot salt tears raged down her cheeks as she clung to her uncle’s corpse crying in silent hatred and sadness. They would pay. They would all pay and her uncle would not be forgotten. Never….Alastor Moody would be I her hands when the dementor’s were summoned to give him a kiss in her uncle’s name. She would beg it of her Lord and Master.
A cough startled Morgana from her vengeful thoughts and she was quickly reminded of her duty to life. Morgana turned in the grime towards her aunt and held her as her coughing eased and her breathing resumed with more ease than before, her eyes brighter, still tortured and maddened with crazed delirium and anger at the death of her husband. The woman’s eyes locked with Morgana’s and she forced a sad smile onto her face as her foster mother’s hand reached up to brush her pale tear stained cheek. “Aunt..It’s me…Morgana. I’m here. It’s going to be alright. We’ve returned for you. I’ve come to take you out of here. You’re safe now. You’re with me.” Morgana stammered and cooed gently as she coaxed her once proud and elegant parent into the hall, holding her up so they could reach the sweet, untainted airs of freedom.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Draco helping his father and she looked back sadly for one minute at the closest thing to a father she had left lying dead on the ground. Another set of hot tears came to her eyes and this time she could not even angrily brush them away. She instead could only stare holding her aunt carefully. Morgana shook her head, angered by her weakness. She had survived the death of a parent once…she could do it again. Right now she had to save her remaining family member. With that in mind, Morgana slightly levitated her charge to relieve some of the weight and carried her, behind Lucius into the open night sky.
Other characters include:
Hogwarts the First Battle- Frank Longbottom, Tamora Bradley
Hogwarts- Serena Riley, Fleur Delacour
Last Battle- Serena Riley, Genevieve Aurelle
New Time- Serena Riley, Morgana Calloway
Era of the Marauders- Bellatrix Black
Password 1: N3TSP34K
Password 2: Expect
Password 3: Justice
Accepted!