Seraphiel Love Fletcher

SERAPHIELi ♥i LOVE i♥ iFLETCHER
That's the thing with anger // It begs to stick around // So it can fleece
you of your beauty // And leave you spent with nowt to offer

BASIC INFORMATION​

Full Name:
Seraphiel Love Fletcher

Name Etymology:
Seraphiel is a Hebrew name meaning 'Prince of the High Angelic Order'. His middle name, Love, was inherited from his mother. The surname Fletcher is an occupational name for an arrowsmith.

Nicknames:
Sera, Demon

Date of Birth:
5th February 2046

Birthplace:
New Alresford, Hampshire, England

Area of Residence:
New Alresford, Hampshire, England

Heritage:
Scottish, Irish

Accent:
RP English

Blood Status:
Mixed Blood

EDUCATION & EMPLOYMENT
​

Primary Education:
Public school in New Alresford

Secondary Education:
Hogwarts New Zealand

House:
Hufflepuff

Favourite Subject:
TBC

Least Favourite Subject:
TBC

Extracurricular Clubs:
None yet

Achievements:
None yet

Final OWL Grades:

Final NEWT Grades:

Employment Status:
Unemployed

Job:
Unemployed

HEALTH
​

Health
Seraphiel is in good health.

Allergies
Seraphiel has no allergies that he is aware of.

Eyesight
20/20

Sexual Orientation
Too young to care

And I armed myself with a grin // Cause I was always
the joker // Buried in their humour

HISTORY​

Seraphiel was born in Hampshire, England, the first and only child of Gabriel Fletcher and Lexy Martinez. He grew up modestly, both of his parents working long hours just to maintain their small flat in New Alresford, and spent a considerable amount of his early childhood at the nearby day nursery. Though he could be unintentionally boisterous, he had no trouble introducing himself and making friends. He had his mother's boldness and his father's charm; clearly, he was destined for popularity.

Primary school presented Seraphiel with his first real challenges. He soon discovered he was not as academically gifted as his peers - a fact he sought to minimise by becoming the class jokester instead. But the more popular he became with his peers, the less popular he became with his father, who had had much higher hopes for his only son. Embarrassed by his criticism and expressions of disapproval, Seraphiel grew increasingly desperate to please him. He attended the local library in secret after school to read maths and science books. He handed all of his homework in on time, and some of it could almost have been called good. But though his mother recognised his achievements and praised him kindly for them, it seemed he could do nothing to win back his father's affection.

During this time, the atmosphere at home grew increasingly tense. His father began to bicker regularly with his mother over trivial matters. Following these arguments, his father would often disappear, sometimes for days at a time. Seraphiel escaped when he could by spending time with his school friends in town, or in the nearby woods, though this was often only a marginal improvement upon staying at home. His friends were reckless, thrill-seeking, and immature. While they wanted to trespass and steal, Seraphiel wanted to build forts and play pretend. He had to adapt. Being selfish and stupid with his friends was better than having no friends at all - for they would surely abandon him if he challenged their behaviour.

Then, shockingly, when Sera was eight years old, his father was killed in an accident at work. Seraphiel knew he ought to have been sad, and a part of him was, but his relief was stronger. No more arguments. No more wondering if his father was ever coming home. No more stressing about his schoolwork. At last, he could relax.

By the age of nine, Seraphiel had discovered Dungeons & Dragons and digested the entirety of the base rulebook. He convinced his friends to join his first campaign, carefully constructed to appeal to each of them individually, so that they might instead trespass and steal in his fantasy world, and never get into any real trouble. For the most part, he was successful, and everybody was happy.

Two years passed uneventfully, until at last Seraphiel received his Hogwarts acceptance letter. He was going to New Zealand. The distance didn't worry him too much - he knew that contact with friends and family would be limited to handwritten letters even in Scotland - but saying goodbye to his mother was harder than he had anticipated. She had always been there for him. When he had a moral quandary, she was there to point him right. When he struggled with his homework, she was there to explain the answer in five different ways. But he wasn't a child any more, not in his own mind; it was about time he learned to manage without her. He only hoped that he would make her proud.