ICN: I think of Lorc as being very much like Luna in personality but slightly more like Rolf in looks, although the boys are almost identical anyway. I also see him as something along the lines of agender. I don't think he'd care about pronouns though.
HAIR: blond.
EYES: hazel.
WAND: pine, unicorn hair, thirteen inches.
Lorcan Scamander rocked back on his heels as he tilted his head back, trying to shake away the soft, straggling locks of hair in his eyes so that he could peer up at the ceiling. Unaware that he was shaking his hair into the face of the person behind him, he was quite surprised to be poked sharply in the arm and to have a voice hiss in his ear.
"Lorcan! Quit it."
Turning, he smiled vaguely at his twin brother Lysander, who looked almost the same as him but for his grey eyes, less narrow face, a mole on his jaw and a scowl.
"Sorry, Lyse. Say, do you think this ceiling's always been here? It's very-"
"Ssshhh!" whispered Lysander, for Lorcan had not troubled to keep his voice down and everyone within fifteen feet was shooting the Scamander brothers annoyed looks. Lorcan raised his eyebrows at his brother, mouthed an apology and turned back to look up at the ceiling again, amusing himself by finding pictures in the grey clouds scudding across the deep purple sky. His mother had done that with him as a child and they had spent hours gazing at the heavens, telling one another stories from what they saw there. Lysander had joined in too, of course, but he had always gotten twitchy after a while-
"Lorcan, move!"
Lorcan looked back down and saw a space before him. There were only around five children in front of him now. He stepped slowly forward to close up the gap and heard Lysander's voice in his ear again.
"Stop staring at the ceiling and pay attention, alright?"
Tearing his eyes reluctantly from the sky above, Lorcan looked around the Great Hall instead, trying to place the people he had met from visits to his parents' friends in England. The Scamanders had spent all of the boys' childhood travelling Europe and occasionally venturing into Russia, but always returning to the UK at least once every year to visit their grandfather. During those visits they had usually stopped by at the Potters' in London for a reunion dinner and both Lorcan and Lysander had become familiar, if not overly friendly, with the Potter siblings. Just a week previously they had attended a large gathering at a charming place called The Burrow, where several of the school-aged people there had assured the boys that they need only ask for help settling into Hogwarts, although none of them were close in age to Lorcan or Lysander.
Lorcan was saved from trying to spot familiar faces in the crowd, however, by Lysander's low voice in his ear again:
"Lorc, look. That Lily girl is waving at us. Remember her? Hufflepuff table, red hair, her Mum is our Mum's old school friend."
Lorcan looked in the direction his brother was staring and sure enough, a pretty girl with her gleaming, fiery hair up in a neat ponytail was waggling her fingers at them, beaming, a shiny Prefect badge on her robes.
"Oh, yes, Lily Potter. She was nice. She's a fifth-year, I think. You know, I believe she said for us to sit with her on the train," Lorcan said happily, waving back with his whole arm in the air.
"What?" hissed Lysander. "Lorcan, you mooncalf, we didn't have to sit with those Slytherins at all! I asked you if you thought we should move and you said no! Why didn't you say we had an invitation to another compartment? We almost got hexed after you said that thing about the Nargles!"
Lorcan blinked at his brother, slightly taken aback by his anger.
"Sorry," he said eventually. "I forgot. And I was only trying to help, with the Nargles. He had a serious infestation of them and it was impairing his intelligence, anyone could see that…"
"Or maybe he was just a stupid troll," snapped Lysander. "Not to mention a fourth-year with great big fists-"
"Excuse me," came a pompous voice from behind them. "You're holding up the line again."
Lysander gave Lorcan a furious look and steered him into the free space in front of them. There were only three people before them now.
"I've told you before," Lysander whispered. "You need to have your wits about you now, otherwise you'll get in trouble. Not to mention you need to pay attention in class. Just try to think, Lorc."
Lorcan shot his brother a frown and turned silently back to the rest of the Hall. He knew Lysander meant well but the two of them had always been so different that it was hard to have a conversation with his brother that didn't end in an argument. Lorcan was his mother's son through and through, untroubled by the grievances of daily life and secure in himself and his own ideas. Lysander, however, let things bother him far too much. Lorcan would be fine in school, he knew it. He was smart, despite his dreamy demeanour, and far less susceptible to self-doubt than poor Lyse.
He was snapped out of his ruminations by his name being called. Stepping forward and avoiding the poke in the ribs from his brother, Lorcan drifted up to the stool, giving Professor Vector a smile and a nod as he seated himself. The Hat was settled on his head and Lorcan grinned at his tense-looking brother as it bellowed:
"RAVENCLAW!"