Hailey Scott

Age: 15
Birthdate: September 29
Blood Purity: Muggleborn

House: Slytherin
Occupation: Student
Wand Type: Blackthorn, dragon heartstring, 9 inches, unyielding

She sees magic as just another way to have fun; she is neither overly fond or weary of it. There are spells she finds useful, such as crucio (although it’s forbidden). Mostly, she prefers the good old fashioned way.

TW: All kinds; torture, abuse, murder, a SHIT-TONNE of gore, sexual abuse, attempted rape, etc. Seriously. It’s bad. Don’t read unless you’re absolutely certain you can tolerate torture, gore, and a psychopath.

Hailey’s childhood was not the most pleasant. In fact, raised in a circus in the muggle world, she was abused daily by her parents and made to be an acrobat. Born with congenital analgesia, the rare inability to feel pain, Hailey was often made to do stunts that others couldn’t or wouldn’t do, stretching her to her physical limit and then have her patched up by the circus doctor when she did cross it and break a bone (or bones). She was the main attraction, performing death-defying stunts and seemingly unaffected by tumbles or falls -- and, in many ways, she was.

Instead of inflicting pain as punishment, whenever she disobeyed, her parents would lock her in a cage barely large enough for a dog, making her hunch over on her knees for hours on end. Alternatively, they would tie her to a tree and leave her in the cold overnight. Once, they put a hood over her head, tied her to a bed naked, and covered her in poison ivy. The itch nearly drove her mad, and she never tried to steal more food than she was allocated ever again.

As such, Hailey was never quite right in the head, a combination of both nurture and nature. For nine years, she suffered. When she was nine, she met a boy passing through town; he wasn’t a carney, but he would visit circuses around the country and help out. He was eighteen, and treated her better than anyone else had; he would tell her she was beautiful, bring her flowers or sweets, and even helped her tie her hair. One night, a few weeks after they met, she confided in him her years of abuse.

He was shocked, telling her that he couldn’t imagine how anyone could hurt someone so beautiful and precious like her. “Meet me in my caravan tonight,” he told her. “We’ll run away together!”

And so, captivated by this boy, Hailey did just that. As soon as she stepped into his caravan, he shut and locked the door behind her, pulled her towards him, and forced off her dress. Not knowing how to react, Hailey stood there in shock as he groped her. Finally, as he unbuckled his pants, something inside her snapped. She may have been a young girl, but she was by no means defenseless. Her years of performing meant she knew exactly how to get out of tight situations. And so, contorting her body, she removed herself from his grip.

Literally bending over backwards, she grabbed his discarded belt, flipped herself so she was behind him, looped it around his neck, and pulled. She waited. From experience, she knew that if she wanted him to die, she’d have to keep pressure after he passed out -- but that was not what Hailey had in mind. Instead, she waited until he stopped struggling and was out cold before releasing the pressure.

Quickly, she grabbed the rope she saw lying on his bed and tied his hands together, and that to his bed; he wasn’t going anywhere. Then, she turned her attention to the room. In one of his drawers, she found what she was looking for -- a blade she’d seen him use before, on a wood carving. Taking it, she smiled to herself and set to work.

The boy awoke to a cup of cold water splashed across his face, immense pain, and a grinning Hailey. “You tried to rape me,” she said, and in her voice was nothing but curiosity. “I don’t like people who try and hurt me.”

He opened his mouth to protest and, in one swift motion, she shoved his severed penis into his mouth.

“You said you were going to help me,” she accused, almost mocking in her behaviour; she bent over and patted him on his cheek. “You lied. I don’t like liars.” Taking the knife from her pocket, she pressed it to his neck, tilting her head at his muffled protest. “I never understood pain,” she went on, removing it and watching him slump in relief. “I don’t feel any. I’ve always wondered what it was like.” Almost reverently, she pressed the blade against the flesh on his forearm and drew a long line. His muffled screams filled her ears, and she frowned.

“Don’t scream,” she said, almost childishly. “You’ll stop my fun.” She stood, moving to grab something, and then tied a gag around his mouth, watching with a tilted head as he gagged on his dick being shoved deeper into his throat. “What was I saying?” she asked. Then, suddenly, she pushed the knife into his stomach. “Oh, right. Pain. You feel it, right? What is it like?” But the boy was beyond reply, screaming into his gag and pulling on his ties.

Hailey leaned back and watched as the blood pooled around him. Waited until he stopped struggling. Then, experimentally, stabbed him in another location; he didn’t move. She frowned. “Too soon,” she muttered to herself. Next time she’d know that if she pushed the knife into that place, the person only took two minutes to die. Stepping back, she surveyed the area with a frown. She’d be suspected for sure, if she left him like that. But what to do? His trailer was in a remote part, so she had that going for her.

And then it hit her. No body, no evidence. And there was one surefire way of getting rid of important things. Stepping outside, she quickly built a fire; she knew how. She was often asked to build the bonfire in the middle of the circus. As soon as it was big enough, she nodded her approval and went back into the caravan. Dragging the body out, she pulled him towards the fire pit and pushed him onto it. The smell was… not what she expected and she wrinkled her nose, but she waited there until there was nothing left of him but ashes. Then, she kicked some sand over it, decreasing its size, went into the caravan, cleaned up the blood, tossed the towels and sheet into the fire, looted the place, and left, locking the door behind her.

That was the last time anyone ever saw Hailey -- or the boy, whose name was eventually forgotten by all. He was just another face passing through, just another life gone by that nobody would miss.

Hailey ran that night, ran like she'd never run, and by the time anyone knew to look for her, she was far gone. Hitchhiking wasn't an option, not at her age. Instead, she walked across lands, stopping only when tired to take short naps. She knew exactly where she was headed: another circus. They were enemies of the one her parents worked at, and there were often fights; it was also, she knew, the last place they would look for her. She found it a week later, stumbling into the tent during practise, half dead from starvation and exhaustion, body tired and about to give up. They would recognise her, of course. She was the star of the previous circus.

“Ran away,” she managed to get out. “Don't let them find me, please. They hurt me.” It wasn't technically true; she didn't feel pain, after all. But hurt her they did, in places other than physical pain. And then, letting out a sigh, she collapsed.

She woke up two days later in a warm bed. One of the women had taken her in and looked after her. From then on, her life got increasingly better; while they didn't love her, they didn't chase her out or abuse her. Instead, they asked if she wanted to work, and when they found she did, they allowed her to become one of their gymnasts.

It was here that she met Jerome, son of one of the women there -- the ticket booth sales lady. They hit it off, Hailey for the first time free to be herself. She, however, hid her true self under smiles and fake joy. In truth, she was reliving her first murder each night before bed, regrets running through her mind; she had let him off too early, killed him too soon. If she had a chance to redo it, she'd make him suffer more. Hours, not mere minutes. Nobody in this campsite deserved to be killed, though (none had hurt her or anything) and so she satisfied herself with only the thoughts of it.

She discovered she was magical the following year; having been stifled by her parents, she'd been in danger of becoming an obscurus, until she'd set herself free. When she found out Jerome, too, was magical, she was thrilled. Not only was he her best friend, she had known somehow he was like her -- or perhaps, she was like him.

Attending Hogwarts, she was almost immediately sorted into Slytherin, with the hat very briefly considering Ravenclaw; none of the other houses had been even considered. It was here Hailey thrived. Her cunning mindset was not just approved but praised, and her ability to contort her body into places hard to get was admired.


[[OOC: Please note that I do not condone any of the above. Violence is never the answer, ever.]]