have you met HANNAH ABBOTT yet? SHE is aTWENTY year old CIS FEMALE HALF-BLOOD. they live in HOGSMEADE VILLAGE, but they’re originally from BALLYCASTLE, NORTHERN IRELAND. they are best known for being a BARMAID AT THE THREE BROOMSTICKS, and i hear they’re pretty CHARMING yet also SELF DEPRECATING at times.
hello everyone , my name is ri . i’ll be playing miss hannah abbott , i use she / her pronouns. i’m twenty one plus and an absolute sucker for aesthetics, so there’s that. feel free to message me with any questions you may have about hannah. under the cut you’ll find bits and pieces of her character !
name : hannah sophia abbott
age : twenty , born october 3rd.
former house : hufflepuff
current occupation : barmaid at the three broomsticks
affiliation / loyalty : order of the phoenix / dumbledore’s army
romantic / sexual orientation : bisexual / biromantic
patrounus : the hummingbird ––– THE HUMMINGBIRD IS A VERY CAREFREE PATRONUS, AND SHOWS A FREE SPIRIT. THESE ARE THOSE WHO WANT TO ENJOY EVERY ASPECT OF LIFE AND EMRACE IT TO IT’S FULL POTENTIAL. THEY ARE SOCIAL, BUT THEY ALSO NEED AN AMOUNT OF TIME ALONE TO TRY AND FIND THEIR OWN PATH. THEY ARE SENSITIVE AND INFLUENCED EASILY BY WHAT OTHERS SAY ABOUT THEM. THEY TRY TO ACT AS THOUGH THEY ARE INDEPENDENT, BUT THEY TAKE EVERY COMPLIMENT AND INSULT THEY RECIEVE WITH EXTREME CONSIDERATION. THEY WANT TO PLEASE EVERYONE. THE MOST COMMON HOUSE FOR A HUMMINGBIRD PATRONUS IS HUFFLEPUFF. THE MOST COMMON SIGNS ARE LIBRA AND CANCER. (x)
moral alignment : lawful good
BIOGRAPHY :
you are born into a soft world, there’s nothing but beauty for you to admire, for you to bloom beneath. your mother brings you up to be nothing short of whimsical, of someone who finds things to admire within the simplest of things. the winds, the flowers, the trees that surround you, they all carry something within them that draws you towards them. you’re a magical being, a bright young witch who finds herself comfortable within the confides of the hufflepuff common room. within the house known for loyalty, you find yourself thriving. there, you find, you’ve found a sense of belonging.
it isn’t long before you are followed by the shadows, before you give in to your darkest thoughts. a girl so beautiful, so kind. how could she ever think of herself worthy of anything more than the simplest of things? it’s because of this, because you were led to believe that there was nothing ethereal about the way you’d stumble your words in an anxious rage, or the way you’d crumble beneath the pressure of looming deadlines. you were bright, there’s no denying that. but the ghost of laughter as you struggled to articulate your words, as you sat at an empty table on the weekends your classmates wandered around hogsmeade struggling to find the words.
hannah suffers from anxiety. she’s never truly been comfortable in her skin and so she found being in hogwarts made it worse in the sense that she’d never really considered herself intelligent. she’s a very soft girl, someone who was easily influenced in her early years. so, when others began to laugh, began to shun her for her insecurities, she began to believe them. she wasn’t worthy of anything good, anything decent. she, a fragile girl who crumbled beneath the pressure that exams, essays, and classes caused her. she distanced herself from anything academic in her spare time if only to free her mind of its turmoil. it seemed foolish to some.
it generally causes her to fall into a spiral of self - loathing. while she may be appearing to be perfectly poised on the outside, sunshine spilling from her skin on even the darkest of days. inside, hannah finds her own thoughts about herself eating away at her flesh, heart decaying and left to rot in a pit of self deprecation.
she often says things that are taken in a joking manner. because, as people would point out, she was a blonde. an airhead. a girl who was pretty enough to get by in life. that’s what they told her, and so she began to believe it.
by the time you’re in your fourth year , hufflepuff finally receives the recognition it deserves. you support cedric, you surround yourself with him if only to soak in any confidence that he may exude. to you, he’s the perfect champion. to you, he’s being robbed of any glory no thanks to harry potter. you can’t blame him, as much as the rumours say he’d done it himself, and as much as you turn up your nose at the boy. it isn’t his fault, but the pressure of your peers eats away at you and in turn, your image suffers. you’re seen condoning a bullying in which you’ve only ever endured before. it pains you, yet you continue. it’s cedric’s death that shakes you all the most. he was your light, your hope, he represented everything that was worth being in the world. yet, he’d fallen as easily as anyone else.
voldemort returns, and your depression hits a high point. you find yourself yearning for any sort of power, anything that doesn’t make you feel so god damn fragile. you find it in dumbledore’s army. you stand behind harry, for he’s felt pain more than you could ever imagine. you fight and you listen and you learn. you find that there’s something worth value in being good at herbology, at being able to brew a potion better than half your class. yet, you keep these things to yourself. you’ve got a role to play, the insecure girl who finds comfort in hearing that she’s kind, who finds glory in knowing that she’s seen as beautiful. your blonde hair grows longer, it’s loose curls against your slightly freckled porcelain skin and when you cast your first patronus, locks of light blonde fly through the room and you swear you’ve never felt more powerful.
sixth year is a blur. you board the train, you go to the feast, but your only real memory of that year is the loss of your mother. the news that she’s been murdered, found dead alone within your home in ireland. it was a cruel twist of fate. and your usual calm and composed self finds a breaking point. screaming into the void, ripping sheets and drapes and ruining the dormitory that took you away from the one person in the world you loved most. you leave, tell yourself you’ll never return to the place that had never learned how to appreciate you anyways. you’re alone, orphaned, living in a small coastal home. you spend your nights curled up, a sorrow filled song bird, humming aimlessly into the night as your mothers room remains untouched. professor sprout offers her condolences, offers you a place to stay within your old dorm for holidays, asks you if you’d like to return. you decline, you ignore. your life is filled with silence, it’s filled with darkness. the world loses its beauty, and you in turn lose your hope.
you return, and to no surprise, you have to retake your sixth year. people snicker. and you hold your head high because your mother had never taught you to be a coward. you face the world with a new outlook. something stronger brews beneath you. when neville approaches you about dumbledore’s army, you’re quick to swear fealty to whatever it is he’d concocting. you spend your nights comforting the children who meet the carrows in darkened halls and over crowded classrooms.
hannah was heavily involved with dumbledore’s army throughout her (second) sixth year. she found herself spending more time in the room of requirement than in her own dormitory, hiding out and acting as nothing short of a maternal figure towards cowering children. the beauty faded, but her soft exterior remained. in place of her insides is now something likened to steel.
she stands by neville, stands behind harry, and takes part in the battle of hogwarts. walks away with nothing but scrapes and bruises
your heart breaks, and you cannot help but recoil into a silent solitude. your seventh year goes by in a blur, and the castle still smells of death to you. it’s that year that you find yourself becoming closer with madame rosmerta, and she sparks something inside you. perhaps it was like bringing a corpse back to life, to see hannah smile. so it doesn’t come to any surprise that after you graduate, a year later than you’d hoped to, you begin working for her at the three broomsticks. she finds you a nice flat in hogsmeade and helps you pack up the childhood home in which you shared with your mother. there’s a photo, particularly beautiful in its nature, of her on your vanity. she walks with you everyday, you swear she’s by your side. perhaps you never got to mourn properly.
there’s nothing more comfortable than the three broomsticks. hogsmeade is out of the way of london enough that you don’t come into contact with many from your school years. it’s sad, but you like it that way. they’d see nothing in you now that they didn’t back then. perhaps even say that this life was a life they’d always envisioned for you. for, you’ve wasted your talents, but you don’t need them to tell you that. loyalty first, happiness second. it’s what you tell yourself when rosmerta tells you she needs you more oft than not. you’re happy to be alone, it’s safer this way. you see susan as much as you need to, and daphne pops in to make sure you’re alright. goes out of her way to cook you meals to make sure you’re eating. it’s something you’re not used to anymore. someone putting your needs ahead of theirs.
hannah lives a quiet life. she’s slightly ashamed of her lost potential. given in to the idea that she herself failed. it’s this that drives her to become a healer later on in life, that drives her to take night courses and begin her studies when she garners enough confidence to be okay with being studious once more.
she paints. sunflowers, oceans, anything that brings a splash of colour into her life. she doodles on her skin, on napkins, on parchment. always artistic.
she believes in the good in people. it’s this reason alone that hannah doesn’t believe in the persecution of any of her fellow students. that they should be on the end of a wicked witch hunt so to speak. she believes in second chances, and that people are only as good as their circumstances.
hannah’s mother was a pureblood who fell in love with a muggleborn man who’d left her upon finding out she was pregnant. it’s the reason hannah carries the abbott name. her father’s identity has never been important to her.
her mother was her hero, a renowned cursebreaker and a wonderfully brave woman. hannah was in constant awe of the artifacts her mother would bring home, and the plethora of stories she’d provided her with.
her boggart is failure. lmao it’s ironic because she feels it everyday.
she’s got an orange tabby cat named des ; short for desdemona.
she’s gifted in herbology and potions, always has been. once again, hannah is very self deprecating and it was this trait that people found easy to pick at. the more they’d told her she was daft, the more she began to believe it. it’s a big trigger to her anxiety.
she’s a soft and i love her to death and i’ll fight anyone for her. facts are facts.
she’s scarred from the war, depressed and anxious. but she smiles through it because she’s got no other choice. other people lost brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers. her happiness has always come second. she doesn’t believe she’s got the right to grieve, to properly mourn. and so she bottles it inside and helps others.
