Welcome to Charming, where swirling petticoats, the language of flowers, and old-fashioned duels are only the beginning of what is lying underneath…
After a magical attempt on her life in 1877, Queen Victoria launched a crusade against magic that, while tidied up by the Ministry of Magic, saw the Wizarding community exiled to Hogsmeade, previously little more than a crossroad near the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the years that have passed since, Hogsmeade has suffered plagues, fires, and Victorian hypocrisy but is still standing firm.
Thethe year is now 1895. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
Complete a thread started and set every month for twelve consecutive months. Each thread must have at least ten posts, and at least three must be your own.
Did You Know?
Did you know? Jewelry of jet was the haute jewelry of the Victorian era. — Fallin
August 4th, 1889; Evening — Ross House, Bartonburg
At least the Thompsons’ governess had had the decency to look embarrassed. That—and the knowledge that it would not reflect well upon her husband—had been the only thing that had prevented Roslyn from tearing into the younger woman. Now removed from the situation, she could see that, while the foolish creature had no business minding the children of others, the real fault lay with Roslyn herself: clearly she had not taught her son better.
With limited time before his departure for Hogwarts, Ros knew she had to act swiftly to remedy this.
Their dinner was a shared affair, for Roslyn Ross did not see the purpose in dining alone when her husband was out doing whatever it was the Minister of Magic did. While this might normally have been a treat for both mother and son, thus far, the tension in the air far outweighed any conversation (which had been decidedly minimal as Ros worked to gather her words). A storm was brewing, but anyone not privy to the witch’s thoughts would not know precisely its cause.
“I went to the Thompsons’ this afternoon,” she began simply after their main course had been finished. “Mrs. Thompson was out, as you might know, but I did speak with the governess. I had, you see, thought to take you and the Thompson boy—” Merlin help her, she had forgotten his name! “—to Fudge & Son as a thank you for their having you for luncheon.”
That the boys were already in Diagon Alley without the watchful eye of the governess upon them had almost made Roslyn apoplectic. That the woman had not been able to pinpoint the precise location of Roslyn’s son had sent an icy chill through the witch’s veins, as though she might simultaneously explode and faint in the same moment.
— #PrettiesByMJ —
August 27, 2019 – 11:24 PM
Last modified: August 27, 2019 – 11:25 PM by Idris Ross.
Perhaps Idris should have known better than run to the Diagon Alley. Sure his mother educated him better than that, and he had gotten the whole talk of keeping himself safe, especially now that his father turned into a famous man on the Wizarding World. Yet he couldn't keep still when his friend told him a lot of their mates were at the area, looking for more playmates. It didn't take much convincing from his friends before they sneaked into a fireplace and used the floo powder.
To say the afternoon was fun was a misunderstanding. Fun didn't begin to cover it. In fact, he hadn't had that good a time in a full week, which was a lot as far as he was concerned. Not only did they play an amazing game of hide-and-seek and he met a fellow first-year, Idris and his mates bought a bunch of candies from the shops and a few new toys to bring to Hogwarts. There was also a moment one of their friends tried to use magic without a wand and they almost got yelled at by this awful-looking old man. They never ran so fast as after pranking him with a bat.
He did have a sense of dread upon getting home that his mother would hear about it. Idris tried his best to look as calm as a young man could possibly be, but the whole tension in the air did not lie; she knew, which made him swallow down hard as soon as they were face-to-face. He expected something else other than silence, but should have known better. Lately, she had tried to teach him how to put a formal face even more - maybe that was just her way to show him how it was done. Disappointing, not that he would say so.
Idris' stomach rumbled loudly before being called to dinner, the only minute he wished he hadn't gone in an adventure. He was certain mom wouldn't let him eat until they finished talking about it, and this time using the 'growing boy' kind would do nothing to help him. Bummer! He shook his head, preparing himself for the worst and sat close to her. She had a posture of absolute elegance while letting only a few lines on her face show, and he could sense his mouth going dry just from watching. Waiting. Hoping, really, because the food looked delicious and-
He knew better than to say anything, and not to stare. Her eyes seemed to burn him with that silent anger or... something. He was ashamed. So ashamed indeed his cheeks turned red, though he wouldn't have outright changed it. The time at the Diagon Alley was fun and if Idris were not to lie, he was scared at the prospect of being far away, locked inside a school, nowhere to go really. But could he tell her this?
"I see. So... are you still considering it?" Idris asked hopeful, trying his best to smile at her as if this was no big deal, though it was barely a real smile and he still looked quite ashamed by it.
The look she gave her son said very plainly that she was not done and he had best remain quiet until she was. Though many things about motherhood had not come naturally to Roslyn, The Look certainly had.
“I was quite startled,” she continued, ignoring Idris’ question altogether, “to learn that she had let you boys go off on your own. I mean, really—good help truly is hard to find!”
She was getting off track. Roslyn cleared her throat.
“I was, frankly, floored, however, that you had chosen to take advantage of her foolish leniency. It is not behaviour I would have expected to see in a child I raised.”
She punctuated this with a small nod, indicating she had finished—for now.
For a second, Idris did not know what to say. He understood his mom's concern, to a certain point. All adults talked about how the world slowly turned into a terrible place, and there had been terrible events at theirs, some of it he was proud that his father was now entailed to take care of. But... he couldn't help but pay better attention to the beauty of it. To moments like today, in which he had fun and it was free and easy and good. Couldn't she see the same? He had come home unharmed, all his friends had. They all took care of each other. It hadn't been so foolish given they remained at a safer space, where there were too many people for something bad to happen. Right?
"You see, mom, I-" Idris took a deep breath, wondering what he could say then. He looked at the table instead of directly in her eyes, too ashamed just then to raise his head. He could put the blame on his friend, say he had been convinced, but this would be dishonest. She hadn't raised him as a liar, and he wouldn't be this bad a son. But he could bring his own point of view to the table, quite literally. "didn't know having fun was such an awful thing." Wherever he had found courage to look at her then, he wasn't sure.
"This is the last month I will be home. Is it so terrible that I wanted to spend a day with my friends? Sure, we could have handled it better, but we both knew my friend's governess would have said no without thinking." To him, it made no sense why that lady was so abrupt at denying them such things. Safety wasn't so much an issue as being trapped inside a house, no matter how big, looking for freedom instead. At least he managed to keep his tone very much the same, aside from a slight raise of voice at the end, disbelief in-between the phrases.
Her last hopes that Idris had already learned his lesson were dashed swiftly upon the rocks of reality like a ship buffetted by a storm. She sighed inwardly, not daring to do so aloud, to show weakness. Roslyn had little doubt that her son knew she loved him—and little doubt that he counted on that affection when choosing to transgress. She would not let maternal fondness prevent her from being an effective parent.
"There is spending time with one's friends," she remarked sternly, expression stony, "and there is risking one's own well-being. The former is desirable indeed, and to be encouraged if it does not conflict with your responsibilities."
He had been lucky so far that his parents had shielded him from the weight of those responsibilities. Ros was now resolved that that should not be the case moving forward.
"The latter is, at best, foolish, and, by God, I did not raise a foolish son."
— #PrettiesByMJ —
September 1, 2019 – 2:07 PM
Last modified: September 1, 2019 – 2:07 PM by Idris Ross.
It was a difficult line to walk, that of shame mixed with defending one’s view. He couldn’t tell which was stronger inside him, because although he would have never wanted to displease his mother so much, he couldn’t help the awful dread at thoughts of how trapped he might feel inside a boarding school. Worse was that he still didn’t see what was this awful about spending a day with his friends - sure, it might have been dangerous, but the truth is they would have never managed to go if they hadn’t run from the governess, so what other option was left on the table? None! Yet he could tell his mother didn’t understand, and tried not to sigh heavily - as he’d seen his father do - while waiting for her to continue.
Her last words made him shiver, shame still there but disappointment hitting him this time. It was at the thought he had worried mom, made her feel he might not be safe. He understood not caring about safety for itself was bad, but the feeling that his mom spent who knows how many minutes worried about him was what made him feel worse.
"I’m not foolish, mom." He lowered his head again, staring at the table for the purpose of this. Instead of harsh or rude, his tone was softer than it had been previously, almost shaky. It was the second time he couldn’t look at her. "I didn’t go anywhere you and father wouldn’t want me to go, and we entered enough stores there were people who knew of our presence." The last one made perfect sense to himself, though it wasn’t so mataure.
"But Abe and I had nothing to do inside his house and- right, we did, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t the same, alright? It’s not the same as going to the Diagon Alley and seeing our friends or- you know, everything we won’t be able to do because of a stupid school." He shook his head at the last two words, hating the lump on his throat. Worse was lingering tears threatening to fall, though he was determined not to let it. Boys didn’t cry, much like his father never did. "I’m sorry I’m scared. I’m sorry you didn’t raise your son to be foolish, but this was one of my last chance to have fun before… that… so I took it!" He inhaled as much air to his lungs as he could, it helped with the need to cry too.
"If you think that Hogwarts is merely some 'stupid school', I am very happy to keep you home under Miss Darrow's tutelage rather than send you away come September."
The offer rang heavy in the air, a weighty warning.
"Though with all your friends pursuing their studies, I daresay it will seem an unattractive offer."
"I…" Idris sensed the weight of his mother’s words before it could take his breath away, cheeks flushed with shame. He was ready to agree with mom, until he heard her last words of keeping him away from his friends. "Maybe I do! Can’t you never be wrong? Hogwarts will keep me away from you! Away from dad. And here will keep me away from friends. Why is this even a choice?” He raised his chin then, but before she could say anything else, his feet hit the ground with a rather loud sound for a boy his age, and he stormed away.
Roslyn bit back a laugh. She was, after all, supposed to be stern, grave right now. Ros knew that she certainly could be wrong, but the longer she could use logic to thwart her son, she thought, the better.
"You behaved recklessly and dishonestly," Ros voiced. "You were dishonest to do something which you knew you were not allowed, and so must be punished—your uncle had asked if he might purchase you a broom for this school year, but I shall tell him he must wait instead until you return for your summer holidays."
It sounded, Ros thought, worse than it was—the loss of what one never had was not so great as the loss of something more tangible. Still, for a young boy, she thought it would do the trick.
"You were reckless in placing yourself in a situation where you might find yourself in danger," she continued. "Regardless of your feelings on the matter, your father is the Minister of Magic. While I wish the world were safe and wonderful, it is not, and the fact of the matter is that you are both an example and a target so long as your father remains in his office. I have always thought you to be wise in spite of your age, Idris, until this incident, and so I believe you can understand the gravity of this."
Worse so than receiving a punishment, it was knowing one's good reason behind it. Idris could have complained as much as he wanted, deep down he knew mom was right. He'd always looked up to her, and most of what he knew he learned through watching both his parents, and figuring out, ever so slowly, how they saw their world. Which is why it hurt so much more seeing her stern and disappointed. The knowledge he'd have no broom, however, was almost soul crushing - now there would be no quidditch, no joining his other mates who might try for it even as first years.
"You're right." Idris sighed, knowing there was no use talking back at her, or even begging for her to change her mind. At least if he was going to do something as terrible as leaving home, he could start acting more like somebody who had the right mind - and age - to do it. "I'm sorry, mom. I understand, and... it wasn't my intention to make you worry." He turned his back then, leaving for his bedroom. There would be time to think about it, his own actions and its consequences. For now, he'd allow his feelings to linger on the sorrow.
"I do appreciate the apology, Idris," Roslyn replied, expression and tone both softening slightly. It wasn't, however, enough. The gravity of the situation simply demanded more from him.
"You have, however, rather dented the trust that I—and indeed your father—have placed in you. To that end," she concluded with a nod, "you shall be on a very short leash until the time comes for you to depart for school."
