Wade MacKenna

Name: Wade Christopher MacKenna
Nicknames: MacKenna
Date of Birth: 3rd July, 2005
Age: 16
Blood Status: Muggleborn
Hometown: Clacton, Essex, England
Current Home: Clacton, Essex, England
Nationality: British
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Wand: 13 3/4", dragon heartstring, red oak


Hair Color: Dirty blond
Hair Style: Messy
Eye Color: Blue
Body Type: Athletic
Height: 5'10"
Other Distinguishing Features: Frowny face
Clothing Style: plaid / gingham, etc shirts, faded jumpers, baggy jeans, loose-fitting clothing. he hates anything tight or restrictive.


Where were you when the battle commenced on March 19, 2021? At Hogwarts
If you were in Hogsmeade, were you taken captive? No
How were your friends and family affected by it? He lost one of his close friends, Andy.



Sirens!

You take one step out your front door.

A line of garages is on the other side of the street. Half of them are caved in at the bottom and around the sides, and the council have made an attempt to conceal several layers of graffiti - a tagger called 'Muse', mostly; but the real credit goes to the guy who fashioned a four foot red devil with intricate detail. To your left, the police are parked outside next door's overgrown garden. There's a woman - pregnant - smoking - her flabby arms are flapping about in a series of exaggerated gestures, as she tries to give the 'talk' to the officer in an accent where all the vowels are mixed up.

There's a siren in the distance. An ominous bang. On the right side of you - the other neighbours - they're having their daily stretch of their vocal chords by swearing at one another. The fence around your front garden is like chicken wire. You caught your thumb on it when you were three, and when you were seven you knocked out your front teeth careening over it. You're wearing yesterday's clothes but changed your underwear. Nothing else is clean. There is a grass stain on the knee of your jeans, and a tear in the elbow of your jumper.

A kid rides past on his BMX. He says something about your face. You suggest where he should go, and what he should do when he gets there.

Your Mum comes out of the front door, just as you're getting your bike, and asks you to tidy up your crap. That she's not doing it again. You ignore her, and she mutters to herself the same thing she does every day: that you shouldn't be in her house, and she should have had an abortion. You ignore her.

At that age, you were angry and had too much energy. That meant you were destroying a lot of things that made the loudest noise. The louder, the better. Glass was your personal favourite. It's just that you knew the road paved out for you: school, leave at sixteen, get a crappy job, knock up a girl.

It would take some kind of miracle to get you out of that pre-assigned fate...

Magic!

There was no point trying to explain things to your Mum. She thought 'The Wizard of Oz' was too peculiar, let alone the idea that an entire community of magical people existed in secret. When the representative from Hogwarts came to your humble abode, Mum answered with the chain still on and asked if they were "bluddy sellin' samfink" and if they weren't, she wasn't interested "pikeys stealin' muh manny". Eventually the chain just rolled back and allowed him entry on its own.

She didn't want to talk to the wizard. You spoke to him a lot more. Eventually, when he was practically pushed out from the house after extending his welcome, Mum tells you that it was good you're going away. That you can take all your shit with you, and leave her to 'ave a fakin' life'; because all her children were preventing her from doing so.

You journeyed to London by yourself. Some took pity on you, others complained about the amount of space you was taking up with your luggage on the Underground, and others just rammed into you. But you got there - eventually - and mimicked some weirdly-dressed people falling through a pillar that divided platforms nine and ten.

Similarly to Primary School, some students at Hogwarts gave you a hard time. Muggles judged you for your shitty house, and clothes, and family. Wizards judged you for your shitty house, and clothes, and family. It wasn't exactly different.

Rebirth!

You take one step out your dorm room.

There's no sirens, no wailing drunkard on a three-day bender, no woman who calls herself your Mother cracking the whip. Others would say this was a blessing; but it takes a while for you to get used to. Silent nights are sleepless ones: ones where you beg for the screech of neighbours or smashing of glass; or the local arsonist to petrol bomb a parked up estate car.

So apart from the lack of council estate harmonics you had to get used to classes. For one - most kids in the classroom actually wanted to learn. Sure; there was the occasional passing of notes or under-desk spells: but no one was actively setting fire to their desks using a zippo or fashioning a shank from a toothbrush. None of your classmates had served time in Youth Detention Centres, or had parents addicted to drugs. It was kind of... refreshing.

The more you wanted to fit into Hogwarts and learn magic, the more you realised you didn't belong back home. Still, there was always room for a bit of casual mayhem.